Blocking the Doors Finished

Shortly after arrival, Thomas planted himself near the entrance in search for Maria. That is until his eyes fell upon a scrutinizing gaze from a maskless girl positioned against the wall opposite of the ballroom’s entrance. By the way she surveyed the entrees, she was searching for something. A date perhaps, though her attire did not resemble the typical celebratory baller. Her intensity only helped form the boy’s presumption: she operated as entrance security. Though lacking the standard size of a bouncer.

What resistance did she offer against this endless cycle? Forces that extend from the wood line to the lake, embedded in the most exclusive chambers within these castle walls. Whether indoor, or outdoor, the student body would not be left to revel in safety. But here we are to try...try, and try again. Until we are left crawling to our bitter end. What was coming for us this time?

Thomas huffed, opting to approach the girl. Warding off the chance her human face was in fact a mask, like a twisted Lecter enthusiast. As he closed in, her skin seemed firmly attached--a relief. He stopped a few feet from her side, casting one last glance before planting his back against the wall. The boy’s head remained forward when he spoke. “If you knew what you were looking for, you would stop looking.”

One person ejected from the crowd, no other than Thomas Lestrange, Prefect of Slytherin. When you're looking for villains, who else but a person with a surname built from the world 'evil' could voluntarily join your presence?

Interacting with @Thomas Lestrange

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lestrange," she replied to the attempted badass introduction, "You are not looking bad tonight." She was keeping her eyes on him as he was moving towards the place of setting himself as another wallflower, but she returned to gazing at the crowd as she realised he was joining her. Among seventeen thousand possible scenarios (okay, maybe a few less) of how to proceed with apparently a villainous conversation, she chose the dumbest one as she thought. But he was distracting her (intentionally?) and she had to keep the watch.

She grinned as she found it: "I appreciate your care, but I shall not fear anymore as you've decided to accompany me in my little errand," was the next phrase, carefully tossed around in her brain before releasing.

Thomas Lestrange was on the list. He was a suspect. Despite having nothing direct against him, he had some evidence on him worth investigating. Since Flash mentioned him, she was keeping an eye on this second-year. After his 'vacation' he returned renewed and was appointed to different positions, including the prefect body. Infiltration instead of invasion.

"Any burden you'd like to shake off your chest, Thomas?" she calmly asked using two fingers to tap him on the chest covered with a beautiful suit.

Trying, intending, these are words for the weak willed. Thomas among them, locked under this illusion that he was in control. Negligence can only temporarily dismiss fear of our reality. Foolishly under the impression running from the twisted trio would be a clean escape. He was only enhancing the vicious shape of his demons.

The others were catching up. Perhaps Thomas did not earn his position fairly as he thought, merely placed as prefect so Jenny could keep her tabs. It appeared there was a keen sense of familiarity when this Gryffindor prefect addressed him. Meenauh Silma--Meenie would do. Yes, Thomas knew who she was. Though reading the name in one’s head and saying it aloud were two different things. Besides, the boy was preoccupied with her afternoon greeting this evening. Perhaps the choco brownies were already hitting.

Thomas side eyed the brunette before turning his frame subtly in her direction, a middle ground between the girl he addressed and the ball entrees. “And you are looking quite ordinary.” An observation, not an insult. On the contrary, he respected her disinterest in adhering to the night’s standards. Not like the many extravagant gowns or flashy suits. Her indifference inspired a line of questioning with Thomas he would mull over later, why did I feel the need to dress up?

The girl spoke with a smile, confirming her role-- an errand. Whether of her own accord, or assigned, she did not clarify. On cue, @Hjørdis Jensen passed the pair with a cordial nod. Thomas icy blues narrowed with a soft smile, nodding in return as she passed through the doors. “There's one to watch out for.” His lips curled up into a smirk, nodding towards the Head of Slytherin as she passed into the ballroom.



Meenauh tapped against his chest, a clear departure from cordial formalities. The mask did its first service of the evening, perhaps hiding the boy’s shifting concerned eyes. The girl caught him off guard, displaying no respect for the bush. He stood motionless for several moments, pressing his lips together and straightening his posture. He turned his frame squarely towards her now, lifting his left hand simultaneous with an upward tilt of his head to remove the mask. With the mask in hand, he let it sway down by his side.

Face now bare and exposed, Thomas issued a deadpan stare that went on long enough to be a blend of discomforting and awkward. The message was clear. I have nothing to hide. Past Meenauh and down the corridor, Thomas would notice his date emerging. Impeccable timing, a proper excuse to avoid further cross examination. Forcing a smile, he nodded towards his date. “I’m afraid my assistance will be short lived.”

The boy returned his mask atop his face, offering a few final parting words. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He would remain across her a few moments to allow a response before joining Maria Dee to enter the ballroom.

Thomas has left the thread

The crowd was unending and potentially unstoppable. It happens with the crowds. Crowds could overthrow governments if they'd wish. But the crowd itself doesn't believe it's capable. That is why authority often controls the crowds. With mere words. No one would check. A handful would, but they can be silenced. They can disappear in a blink of the eye. Be it a student, or a professor. Who was actually governing the school to allow all the evil to soak into the walls?

In the unstoppable whirlwind of incoming students and adults, Meenauh was still distracted by the Slytherin boy, despite not giving it away under a mask of concentration. The heavy crowd and constant loss of energy due to another person to sustain a conversation with lead to a grave miss of the most spectacular person arriving — Lazarus Plott. She did expect him to appear, considering all the schools invited and his appearance at the Broom Race. What she'd lose, Xailah would find. The ball was her area at the moment.

Interacting with @Thomas Lestrange

She let the comment about her appearance without a remark first, but before Thomas spoke again, she edited her silence briefly: "When everyone around you wears a mask, then a person without one is not ordinary anymore, don't you think?"

The head of Slytherin passed them by with a nod, which could potentially mean either a simple greeting or a confirmation that everyone was doing their job right. Meenauh nodded back in a greeting manner. If the goddess would think it was unusual that a girl was standing just outside the ball without the proper attire, she would interact to see whether everything was okay. And what would the fact that she just nodded and let it go mean?

The mutual nods were finished with Thomas' comment, which more or less surprised Meenauh. She trusted the Head of Slytherin. They had moments of sincerity and she was sort of attached to her and viewed her as a responsible adult, unlike several others she couldn't trust just because they had some authority. Thomas' comment would remain unanswered and would fade away in the noise of the crowd.

The chest trick worked. Somehow. Maybe not in a way she planned, if she planned it. The mask could hide the face, but it couldn't hide the body. The language of the body displayed unease and unpreparedness. Meenauh held her breath — there was a boiling point somewhere and she may have just started the engine, she may have touched a piece of evidence. She was looking at him at the corner of her eye. The straightened figure would lose the mask and would look at Meenauh. A bold move. In the middle of the stare duration, Meenauh would turn her face towards him for the first time and looked him in the eyes. Was it a sincere move? Or was it a threat? If someone comes to you with a phrase like his, that someone clearly knows what's happening. Thomas wasn't a clueless person. Maybe he was the most clueful one. The stare was kept long enough for Meenauh to start weaker. It was an attack.

Luckily for both, Thomas' date seemed to be approaching as the stare moved behind Meenauh and the mask was put back on with a farewell. A dagger-in-the-back farewell. Such words could be selected by people who were completely confident that both of them would not see each other again. She would return her face back to the crowd as soon as the eye contact was broken to give herself time and come up with a proper farewell, which was not building up. She touched something dangerous again, something that was a part of something bigger.

"Keep a good eye on your date, Mr. Lestrange," she would answer dryly as his date was approaching and she would watch for a while both of them departing through the doors.

Open for occasional interactions with people arriving at the ball after this post

The swarm of masqued people starter to thin out and Meenauh was mostly watching for anything suspicious in general. A brief meeting with Thomas set her mood off a bit. An injection of anxiety in her blood made her heart beat faster, almost deafening. This was the feeling one could feel after meeting with someone or something dangerous and then avoiding the vile consequences. She was pondering for a while whether Thomas really knew someone was coming or he just played a really bad boy.

The supposed danger could be anywhere and it could wait for everyone to get in before striking (like the previous time based off what Xailah told her). The meditation of constant routine of watching and sort of counting people concentrated her mind, which saved her from the upcoming act of assault.

Something of enormous strength, but still incredibly small tried to flip her over. With the ground suddenly being not perpendicular to her stance, she gathered all her agility to jump and keep her upward position. Tiny hands again. No falling like the previous time. She failed even to exclaim anything because of the suddenness of the unpleasant happening. Just cursing in her mind, filling with simmering horror.

Drawing her wand in a dexterous motion, she looked around for the only thing she was there for this whole time.

Leaving this thread and entering the ballroom.