Event The Fall Ball (Masquerade)

Open to Interactions; Currently With his Twin & Hanzo
Mentioning: @Rafael D'Spacito as Hanzo

The movement of people has always intrigued me; the way that is easily ebbs and flows, almost like water swirling in the dark depths of an endless sea. It always changes, forming eddies in the current of subconscious thought. It’s almost predictable, it’s almost too easy to read people at times. In a sense, everyone wears a mask, even if it is not an outward one, and an especially good watcher can see the differences and changes that each person expresses... especially if they are going through a lot of change themselves.

My brother is changing. This last summer he was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. Paranoid Schizophrenia, specifically. His mind plays tricks on him when he doesn’t realize it. He’s taken to drawing a lot. A good hobby, I’ll not lie, but the things he draws... so fantastical and strange. Sometimes I worry if he even knows that I’m here. I just don’t want him to get himself hurt. I’d never forgive myself if this condition leads to his demise.

He’s prancing around me, bobbing with the energy of his young, seven year old self. I’m hardly an inch taller than him now, and we’ve been the same height for a while. It’s... odd, really, having my twin looking up at me instead of I at him. Still, I take the growth in stride. Changes will only increase the older we get. Already, I know that I will mature in a rather... unpleasant manner. My studies of human anatomy has left me well prepared for the challenge. Emotions and physical changes are to be expected, and I am ready for the worst.

And the worst seemed to come sooner than expected. A pair of hands tightly clasped my shoulders, a weight making itself apparent on my back. An attack already?! Perhaps Piérre had been better prepared than I had initially thought! ”Agh!?” I shout, my hands quickly snaking o the hands on my shoulders. I need to grab them and throw my opponent off...

Reducio

Romeo vs. Hanzo

Romeo Grabs! (Accuracy): d20 (18) + 10 = 28
Hanzo Evades! (Evasion): d20 (8) + 10 = 18

Romeo Successfully Grapples Hanzo!

Can Romeo Manipulate Hanzo’s Weight Without Use of ‘Martial Artist’?

Romeo Makes a Strength Check! (Strength): d20 (8) + (10 + 1) = 19
Hanzo Contests! (Strength): d20 (18) + 3 = 21

Romeo is unable to flip Hanzo!

Conditions—
Hanzo & Romeo are Grappled

With lightning speed, I snatch the hands, forcing my own surprisingly strong ones as far under the opponent’s as possible. With a strain, I try to buck the force off, but, like any good bronco rider, the opponent stays firm. It is not until I hear the gentle whisper of my good friend’s voice that I growl with pleasant and slightly aggrieved surprise. Leave it to Hanzo to make our encounter a prank. Well, he got me good alright. Almost as impish as my brother, wouldn’t you know?

”HANZO, WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN?!” I bust up laughing halfway through my expression of anger. God, I can’t be mad at him. He always means well. And God knows he’ll be lording this over me back at Durmstrang, beating me at a contest of strength. “What in the world possessed you to do that?!” He’s been working in his English. I’m proud of him. The language barrier between us had been painful, a difficulty that both of us had to overcome, with me learning Russian and he bettering his understanding of English. We’ve both made huge strides, and accomplishment in and of itself. “Well, I’m glad that you were at least able to make it to the party... even if you arrival was a little... unorthodox.”

I swing back and forth, his weight on my shoulders. Even with him being older than me, I can easily carry him, and by proxy, comfortably piggyback him. Piérre is looking between us back and forth, his hands helplessly upraised. He had been just as surprised as I had been with my friend’s sudden arrival, but at seeing me relax, he relaxes as well. He claps his hands, asking me who my friend is. “Ah, this is Hanzo, the little devil. He was one of the Durmstrang chasers. He’s the one I’ve been telling you so much about. Hanzo, this is my twin, Piérre. He’s a second year Gryffindor here, you know.” I had added that last statement while looking back at him and lifting an eyebrow. Perhaps that would be enough warning for him to drop the Potter being a murderer bit... I know how sensitive my sibling is about that trial firsthand, after all.

Greeting Hanzo & Giving him a Piggyback Ride

Mod Note: Piérre has brought his Moontrimmer, Luciana
When and if Romeo shares the broom with Piérre, he chooses to place his +3s to Wisdom (+10) and Accuracy (+13)
He will also possess a 10% Auto-dodge rate

Statistics and Abilities
Stamina 7 | Strength 10 | Evasion 7
Wisdom 7 | Accuracy 10 | ArcPower 0

Obnoxiously Strong: +10% to any Strength Checks
Perfectionist: -1 Critical Failure Chance

Outfit:

Reducio

Mask


Outfit

Open to Interactions; Currently With his Twin & Hanzo!
Mentioning: @Rafael D'Spacito

Piérre was innocently oblivious to how his presence was somewhat distracting his twin. Romeo had always been a little bit in his own head, and Piérre had grown to accept this as a typical behavior of his brother, learning to be energetic and push through any stoic swings that his brother seemed to express. As such, he did not notice when a strange figure leapt onto his brother’s shoulders until it was too late. ”ROMEO, LOOK_” As Romeo began to shout and buck at the foe, Piérre slipped the broom from his shoulder, rebuking the adjective ’damn’ with a firm, loud “NO CURSING!”, as he prepared to mount and get help or perhaps ram the enemy off of his beloved brother...

But when Romeo began to laugh as a response of surprise and joy, Piérre loosened his nerves, letting out a snicker of uncertainty himself. Romeo was... okay with being attacked? “Wha- What’s going on? You know something I don’t?” He jested lightly, swinging the broom over his shoulder casually again. Perhaps it had only been in fun and games, for Romeo was swaying back and forth with his assailant on his back. Piérre could see now that the jokester had donned the clothes of a Gryffindor student, and with the large black spectacle mask and the jagged lightning bolt scar, he didn’t need to guess to realize who the person was dressed as. They had gone in cosplay, just as he had!

When Romeo finally introduced them, Piérre grinned ear to ear, causing his drawn-on mustache to stretch along with his smile. “Hiya Hanzo! Romeo’s said a lot of cool things about ya! You’re a duelist right? That’s so cool!” Here came the rambling... “I wanted to stay in Quidditch because Rafa is the captain, and he’s so awesome and I’m a Keeper on the team! I wanted to be a Seeker, but Eevee beat me to it, and y’know, that’s okay, because she’s an awesome player too! Out debut is gonna be later in the month, you gonna watch it?” Piérre hummed as he bounced on the tips of his toes. Tipping his head, Piérre made an other observation, squinting at the allegedly foreign student. “Y’know, the longer I look at you, the more and more you look like Rafa... I feel like we’ve met before!”

It was a sort of aura, really. A gut feeling that perhaps Piérre knew Hanzo far better than the foreigner realized. It was as if they had already been friends for a year, or perhaps... I had been friends with him for a year?

Regardless, it was good for Piérre to finally meet Romeo’s friends. Hanzo seemed nice enough, and it looked like the usually introverted Romeo had found his crowd. Glancing around, Piérre noticed the endless sea of swishing dresses, dapper attires and gaudy masks. He was a part of his crowd. These jokers and fools and entertainers were his people, his family. God, if only this night could last forever...

Energetically Greeting Hanzo

Mod Note: Piérre has brought his Moontrimmer, Luciana
He chooses to place his +3s to Evasion (+13) and Stamina (6)
He also possesses a 10% Auto-dodge rate

Statistics and Abilities
Stamina 6 | Strength 3 | Evasion 13
Wisdom 10 | Accuracy 10 | ArcPower 5

Keen Eye: 25% Chance to Spot something Important
Calming Presence: 10% Auto-hit Rate. Allies: Unchosen

I'm too lazy to actually do art in an hour's time, and I'm working on the costume still, so have this image reference of Piérre's badass Mister L cosplay...

Reducio

♞♞♞

Interactions: (open)@Lana Monet| Enzo Delcroix @Akari Kato| @Breana Oliveire Mentions: @Nico Shymane| @Quinn Healy

Jay couldn't help but to roll their eyes as they heard his sarcastic mumble, this guy obviously didn't like them- and they didn't like him. Then Mr French Boy put his hand into hers, it was a gesture that threw Jay off, thoughts of Lily Gray filled their mind, no, stop. They then looked as Monet as she made her choice, "Ah, well I guess that makes sense,"they said, slightly disappointing, though their expression was hard to tell with the mask on. Jay ought to find another dance partner, the next song started and they quite liked it, it was a slow one too.

The fancy green haired Zorro looked at the girl in the oversized trench-coat, Do me a favor and don't die of boredom with this guy,"they smiled, they had said it barely loudly enough for him to hear. "Save me the second dance,"and with that, they gave Enzo Delcroix a grim glare and walked off to find a potential dance partner.

In fact, they wanted to find the girl from the last masquerade, oh silly me... looking for a girl that probably doesn't remember me... they thought hopelessly. As they walked around they saw a lot of amazing outfits, in fact, they saw a certain red-haired girl in a really beautiful dress, she was standing next to a half giant and another girl, his height was quite astounding... Jays mind was then filled with dumb thoughts about them getting a piggy back ride from someone that tall. They blushed as they saw the red haired girl more closely, she was very pretty. Jay sure had an odd attraction towards red-heads....

They looked at other possible dance partners, at this point they were a bit bored, they were in fact, quite interested in the girl who was wearing a nice suit. Jay likes suits- and capes. Trying their best to summon up their courage they approached the little group. Their pale face became slightly reddish,
"I um- hi, I'm Jay Victoria and well, I thought you looked quite dashing and I-I was wondering if you'd do me the pleasure of having this dance with you?"they asked the brunnete in the teal suit, their eyes then adverted to the eight foot tall guy for a second. He looked quite intimidating yet very kind...

Alexander’s mask concealed more than those of his peers, but Aida knew the boy well enough by his gait alone. As his other mannerisms began to emerge, Aida’s identification was doubly confirmed.

Observations about Alexander:
[d20 : 14+10+2 (sixth sense)] = 26

Though the shadow of the Guy Fawkes mask over his eyes made it more difficult to follow his gaze, based on the angle of his face it seemed the boy himself had not located Aida as she hid beneath the invisibility cloak. Observing the duelist brooch pinned to the lapel of his single-breasted waistcoat, Aida grew lost in thought about the duels they were to have tomorrow and so failed to glean any more information about the boy. He should dress like this more often, she thought, flicking her violet eyes back over the crowd. Seems more practical for duelling anyway.

Aida's distraction was quickly overtaken by a voice in her mind that rolled like thunder:

“Do not disappoint me.”

Drawing in a long, quiet breath, Aida clenched her fist. Steeling herself for her task, Aida knew she would have one chance to get this right, and one chance to make a clean exit. Behind the undulating crowd of dancers, Aida watched the openings come and go for the ideal escape path that would not result in bumping into people. The flowing mass of people was rhythmic but still chaotic. However, there was no stopping now. Aida could tolerate no cowardice when it came to following the will of the White General. She would have to count on an opening being there when she needed it. Then, Alexander happened to turn his head in Aida’s direction and she knew the time had come. Inhaling swiftly, Aida lifted the badger skull up to hers as she stared invisibly into Alexander's eyes. The little white skull’s foramen magnum met Aida’s lips and as she blew long and shrill, a horrifying scream-like sound came rattling out through the skull’s airways onto the ballroom floor (like this). Again and again Aida blew into the death whistle, shaping its sound with her hand as it cried a terrible nerve-wracking wail. Then, turning swiftly, Aida strode towards the exit as quickly as she could while being light on her feet. The soft leather soles of her boots were traditionally for deer stalking, but now they would provide a silent footfall for Aida as she tried to escape without notice beneath the invisibility cloak. The only question was if the crowd would swell at just the right moment.

Mention: @Alexander Varellion
Tracker: 1

Action: Trying to spook the crowd and escape
Abilities: Blindvision ✵ Sixth Sense

Stamina 3 ✵ Evasion 6 ✵ Strength 1 ✵ Wisdom 10 ✵ Arcane Power 10 ✵ Accuracy 10

Aida's diabolical instrument:

Reducio

As she was glancing around the room, Nell spot a girl in a elegant red dress. It was a little much for her age (which Nell assumed to be 11), wasn't it? Nell didn't want to be one to judge, though. She hadn't recognized anyone at the ball yet, not even her date seeing as they met over owl. Her date. Goodness gracious, she had almost forgot. Nell had a vague description of the Andre, but she wouldn't be able to tell who he is out of the crowd. Then she spotted him. He was chatting with some girls from Nell's year (she assumed). She didn't pay much attention to the situation. Now the that she knew exactly what her date looked like, she felt slightly relieved. However, she didn't have many friends here. Nell made her way over to the girl in the red dress that she had noticed a short time ago. Definitely a first year, she thought to herself. No, Nell can't be making assumptions like that. Nell introduced herself to the girl with a smile. "Nell Zoldak, second year," she said with a soft smile. The girl looked mature for an 11 year old, but it all depends on the personality, right? That's what her mother had always said. Don't judge a book by it's cover. Nell had followed that saying most of her life, but she was always so quick to judge no matter how much she tried to stop herself. "And you are?" she asked.

Action: Spotting her date talking with others and deciding to make small talk with another student.
Statistics: STA: 6 EVA: 8 STR: 5 WIS: 9 AP: 5 ACC: 7
Health: 800/800
Abilities: Sixth Sense | Prodigal Charms Learner

Benjamin stood in the ballroom, lost. He tried to spot his date. her name was what, Marie? Margaret? Molly? May. That was it, May Moonstar. Ben knew what she looked like, but she didn't even know if she was here, and he assumed she didn't know either. The second year waltzed around the room when he heard his name being called from behind. He whipped around to see May right behind him. A grin spread across his face as he returned the greeting to his date. "Hey May!" he said in the same excited voice as may had. Ben found it was best to match the energy of whoever he was talking to, and it was usually token to him being outgoing. It was good to see her again. They had met over the summer, but it felt like so long ago. Time flies, doesn't it? May looked utterly fabulous. Her hair was awesome, her dress was awesome, and her mask was awesome. "How have you been?" he asked with a sincere tone. He was attempting to make small talk, something the outgoing boy was actually struggling with for once. There's a first for everything, isn't there? Ben smiled at May. it was going to be a great night.

Action: Meeting with his date and chatting.
Statistics: STA - 9 | EVA - 8 | STR - 5 | WIS - 5 | AP - 6 | ACC - 7
Health: 800/800
Abilities: Calming Presence | Charmer

────────────────── ♛ ──────────────────

Interacting With: @Willow Anderson as Everett Brooks, @Aurelia Roberts
Mentioning: @Lydia Cooper
-Closed to Interactions-
Hex Color: #800000

─────────────────── • ───────────────────

Outfit
Hair
Mask

"You know, red isn't just a Gryffindor color. It's an Ilvermorny color too. But, if it wins me ten points then consider that the case."

The Gryffindor Captain, in utter betrayal of his composed charm, couldn’t help the impish smile that tugged at the ends of his lips, the Quidditch reference striking a humorous chord throughout his immediate thoughts as his eyes settled once more on the second year standing across from himself. Rett’s sarcastic wit, of no surprise to anyone, had always resembled that of clever, cunning individual, his very aura, in the eyes of the young man, not unlike that of a Slytherin student – an aura that scared Rafael almost as much as it enticed him. In fact, in many ways, Rett represented everything the young Gryffindor really feared – to say that he knew what was on the mind of the other would be a blatant lie, one surely told in the hopes of defending his own mentality from what he could only identify as his haunting insecurity. He had, in essence, invited a wildcard to the dance, his summer flame a fire that licked about in the wind with no known path or direction. None that the Captain could identify, anyways. And it went without saying that Rafael liked playing with fire, loved it, even – but would it burn him this time? I would hope not, he thought idly as he fiddled with the wand holstered to his left. That would spoil the good fun.

Before he could give his little predicament any more thought, however, the red-clad devil himself would act, his hand coming to rest on the Captain’s cheek as he leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Such an action was certainly warranted, the Gryffindor supposed, but even such a revelation could do nothing to dissipate the sense of surprise that was now beginning to gather about in the chest of the young man – to be completely honest, Rafael wasn’t sure what he felt. They’re not hers, was the first thought that had stricken his consciousness, the idea not unlike a spark of light illuminating a dark, voluminous cavern. They’re not hers, Rafael. This is wrong. With such a revelation, came a sense of guilt, one whose origins were directed towards the girl he had invited to the Spring Ball earlier in the year. What would Lydia think of you right now? Rafael didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that he and Rett were most definitely love interests. And love interests have rights, he thought defensively. Dammit, he liked Rett – he liked him a lot. And with that, the Captain’s train of thought promptly changed tracks, the shadows soon drifting away, only to be replaced with a sense of happiness, pride even. Elation. Rett was kissing him, again – and while he would absolutely love to admit that he was enlightening the other, there was something purely satisfying about the others lips that… well, perhaps Rett was enlightening him. The Captain’s past feelings for the American, they no longer mattered – Rett, he realized with awe, had seemingly stolen the shattered pieces of the Gryffindor’s heart, and was beginning to sow them together again. How did Rafael feel about that? Great, he thought idly to himself, the smile on his face only growing as his date pulled away from him. He wouldn’t give any more thought to Lydia, then, not right now. No more distractions. It was time to enjoy the evening.

God, he was way too young for all this.

Chuckling gently in an expression of the elation he inwardly felt, the Captain would shake his head in near disbelief, shutting his eyes tightly as if he were deep in thought – “Of course,” he finally answered the question of his date, finally dismissing the sense of discombobulation from his consciousness as his voice sounded gently throughout the air. “You know how hellishly boring these last few weeks have been?” It was, of course, an indirect complement towards Rett’s entertaining nature. Then, in an attempt to acknowledge the scenery the two found themselves in, “You know, it’s about damned time we had a proper dance. We are going to dance, yeah?” His words were soft, charming even, his eyes glancing down at the other’s trim chest as he wryly messed about with the lapels of his red suit. Much to the chagrin of the Captain, however, such a thought seemed to violently rip apart the thoughts of tranquility and tweenage romance surfacing about his mind – the damned ball. His eyes would widen in the very slightest, dark chocolate pupils glancing through the entrance way as to find something of suspicion. This was their night, dammit! And while the chances of things spiraling out of control were rather low, Rafael couldn’t be oblivious. I’ll keep an eye out, then, he idly thought as he offered a naturally charming smile to his date. And stay out of trouble, for once. Not everything is a damned murder plot.

It would be then, that he would finally notice the one he had been previously seeking – Aurelia Roberts, the Gryffindor Team’s second-string seeker, and more recently, quite the charming acquaintance to the young Captain. She, admittedly, looked quite lovely in her golden gown, her visage not unlike that of a goddess’s in the way that it stood out, flamboyant enough in nature to surely attract the eyes of many of those attending the ball. Rafael, of course, had grown a bit more refined in his sense of self-control, especially when it came to visually favorable individuals, but be that as it may, he was still a man of impulses. She looked good. No, great. However, he would let no such thoughts come between him and his date – a kindly look appearing on his facial features, the Captain would friendly extended his hand for shaking. “Aurelia,” he acknowledged her happily with a short nod, though he would be lying if he were to admit that the words didn’t carry a certain distaste in his mouth. Not even the lovely visage of Aurelia Roberts would be able to block out the memories of unpleasant interactions with the former monster hunter. Of course, there was no room for such thoughts tonight – he would dismiss them with a curt shudder, instead focusing on the company he shared. “I’m glad you arrived safely. You look lovely.” An objective statement – he would communicate this to Rett the most subtle way he could, taking the other’s hand and squeezing it, as if saying ‘Don’t worry. She’s got nothing on you’. Then, with such a statement aside, “Are we ready to join the festivities, then?” He would gently nod towards the door, where his eyes would wander again in search for anything suspicious. “We’d better hurry on, before all the good tables are taken ~”

─────────Stats & Action─────────

STAM | 10 EVA | 4 STR | 9

WIS | 8 ARC | 2 ACC | 8

────────────────────────────── Interception | When a Quaffle is being passed, users with this ability automatically get a chance to Intercept the quaffle. This does not replace their normal action for the round. This puts the quaffle in your and by extension your teams' possession. Also, if the Quaffle is dropped for any reason, you would automatically (without it taking up an action) attempt another Quafflegrab. At present there would be no mid-round way to drop a quaffle due to the order of operations, however there will be certain effects in future patches that can cause this effect. ──────────────────────────────

Action • Looking [Through the Entrance] For Anything of Suspicion

Dress

A compliment flittered through the air, a cool yet somehow icy tone. She did not know @Santario Martin well enough to recognize her by voice alone but she sounded vaguely familiar. She stiffened once she realized that she was addressed, but like Passover the dark and terrifying would pass her by. "Thank you, I love your hair" she replied in a quiet voice as she watched the girl walk away. A true statement, she was pretty. A natural sort of pretty, she paled in comparison. Her bare face had not seen the light of day in years, as for Santario, her features were merely enhanced by a bit of color. It was enviable.

She let the girl walk away unaccosted. If she was there to make small chat, she would have. She would not latch onto the first stranger to say a kind word even if she was a bit lonesome. She had a task to complete. She would scan the ballroom for a standout. She would see it in Hanzo (@Rafael D'Spacito) and @Piérre Marchonné. The teetering duo, almost but still not as tall as @Quinn Healy. She recognized the carrier, not the foolish boy on his shoulders. He was a Gryffindor Quidditch player.

She chewed on her bottom lip lightly in thought before she made her way towards the bumbling duo. She would stop in front of Piérre, well a bit to the side to protect herself from injury. Her hands cupped over her mouth so that her voice could carry over the chatter of her fellow ball-goer she would try to get his attention. "Are you that Gryffindor Quidditch player?"

If he stopped. If he addressed her, she would open her clutch and pull out a small bottle of oil and drop two large drops onto the palms of her hands and then rub them together. The scent of rose faint, she would attempt to shake Piérre's hand.

Mentions: Quinn Healy and Hanzo (iNPC)
Interacts with: Santario Martin and Piérre Marchonné

Action: Shake Piérre Marchonné's hand

Suit

Vladimir would recognize that scent, innocence and purity. That light, ethereal aroma that cut through the hormones and angst. He would take a long deep breathe and feel himself salivate. Yes, that was her. His eyes would close, remove the distractions. He lacked the uncanny, inhuman olfactory sense of the lycantropes that are allowed to run untethered throughout the school grounds. A liability most certainly, but who was he to speak out against his alleged 'betters.'

He would catch his first glimpse of the girl from behind. Her long dark hair and her tanned skin. Taller than he had expected, conventionally pretty. Vladimir was a lot of things, but Veela was not among them. His grace and façade were purposefully, consciously refined. "You," he took in another almost longing breath. "Must be... Madeleine Nakamura," he announced with a sly seeming grin. He folded his left arm behind his back and bowed forward with a grace that seemed to belong in a different time. The formality of it all.

"I am Vladimir Athanatos," he claimed as he extended his right hand. "I look forward to learning all there is to know about you... Tu as de beaux yeux," [You have beautiful eyes] he announced but his enunciation was atrocious. A charming laugh would escape his lips as he amended his statement with an apology, "I might have asked one of your classmates for a phrase." He lied. Confidence was attractive but also intimidating.

"That reminds me," he added. An exhibition of sleight of hand, he would wave his hands in front of him. Expose the confined of his sleeves, tug slightly at his jacket and then reach behind her head. She would feel his fingers slightly comb through her hair. Her very thick, seemingly impossible to tame tresses. The hint of a snag, not enough to hurt. Just a light, potentially accidental pull as his watchband caught a single strand.

For those watching the display they would see his hand disappear into his sleeve. Indeed the trick was certainly up his sleeve despite advertising otherwise. Out would emerge a corsage or snakeroot and sainfoin. "Muggle magic," he claimed. From her vantage point, smoother than it would be for witnesses but they were here for a different show entirely. "I did not know what you would be wearing," he spoke a rare truth. He would relinquish the corsage if she accepted the small token.

"Would you like to dance."

Interacts with: Maddie (@Aaron Jones)

Action: Poorly speak French and perform muggle magic.

The fact that Erin was a part Veela was a secret. Erin claimed to any who asked that she was a pureblood. Her father, a pureblood. Her mother, a Scandinavian mystery she never cared to learn more about. She was not even certain who her father claimed her mother was for the part Veela and her brother both to maintain this charade. She just knew enough to perpetuate it. That the blood of muggles was poisoned and as far as she was concerned, her claim was not even a lie. Some might consider it delusional to carry the claim with the honest belief that as far as she was concerned, her mother was a magical creature and therefore magical. Not a drop of muggle.

She never bothered to learn (@Kyle DeRook) Rook's blood status, once he got to know her he would lie and he would leave. Just like the last and the one before. She simply shouted for him, hardly the delicate flower the other girl's portrayed themselves to be. The epitome of femininity - weakness and fragility. She resented them for their frailty, for their willingness to depend on those that would ultimately fail them. Rook would hear her shrill scree and bulldoze his way over to her. She would see the displaced students before she saw the cursed youth, not that she knew he had a secret more terrifying than Parselmouth or sociopathy.

She would not expect the greeting, a punch to the shoulder. Any delusion of romance pushed away, not that she was searching for emotional companionship. She would settle for a like-minded creature to alleviate the loneliness. Pretty less the skull head she wore as a mask to hide her features, Rook looked like he (stealing this phrase from last year because it still applies) stole his attire from a dumpster behind Hot Topic.

She would look at the door, a large pair of wooden doors. They opened inward as all doors did in great spaces such as this. She could barricade the door with a hair of chairs but suitable force might knock the chair from its holding state. She could move a table. Heavy, study, enduring. That would block ingress as long as the doors stood. The others could easily move the furniture out of the way, well those with the physical might. Wizards, in truth they were a waste of skin. Squandering their days doing Merlin knows what, they were weak. They were dead. The ones that remained, cattle awaiting their slaughter. The rest, butchers hidden among the herd.

"Rook," she remembered his name. Yes, he was worth the effort to recall his preferred name. "I am going to kick Healy's ass," that being the highest thing she could reach on the behemoth. "You might want to get the girls away from him," she suggested. Erin recognized both of the girls near Quinn -- @Nico Shymane used to spend time with @Alexander Cloverfield. Friends was a strong word for him, however he did prefer to spend time with her for erm... probably kissy reasons than he did with her. Now he was gone, she had not seen him, like so many others, in a very... very long time. Then there was @Rosie Parker, the midget giant as confirmed by @Max Avery and @Eris Fawley. If they were destroyed, so be it. Both were in league with evil. "I need to get him before he kills someone else." In her warped, paranoid mind she had come to believe that balls were disasters. That the chaos was used as a tool for the part giant's evil to go unseen. That when people disappear, that it happened here.

Without further adieu she would grab an unoccupied chair and carry it across the dancefloor. She was not looking for a seat, she was looking for a ladder. Unless she was somehow stopped by Rook [Kyle DeRook] (auto-success) or someone else (she will hit them with the chair if they tried), she would stop in front of Quinn Healy and drop the chair. Then hop on the chair. Then with a jump still, as he was still too tall for her to comfortably reach, she would attempt to deck the part giant without warning.

Mentions: Rosie, alexander, Max, Eris and Nico
Interacts With: Kyle and Quinn. Also a random chair.

Action: Attempt to punch Quinn.

Stats
Stamina: 8
Evasion: 10
Strength: 15
Wisdom: 3
Arcane Power: 3
Accuracy: 7

Abilities:
Part Veela:
Alluring 10% chance that an attack against her will target an unintended target.
Scream: N/a
Fearless: Immune to fear effects.
Evasive Maneuvers: 10% auto dodge.

Action: Entering Dance, seeking Kyle

Lamik's mouth went dry as he wondered to himself how he would explain his recognition of her. How had he known it was her? Was it maybe because the author didn't realize that she had dyed her hair? No, that can't be it. "Well..." the Gryffindor said, his mouth left slightly open as he thought. "All I had to do was look for the prettiest girl in the room." Later that night, assuming that all of the inevitable horrors that would come to pass during the ball didn't come to pass, Lamik would yell at himself for using what he considered an extremely cheesy and stupid line. He didn't know what to do during a first date, nor did he have any idea how forward one should be. Hopefully, it wasn't too much.

Looking around the ballroom the boy couldn't help but wonder how things could go wrong. What if the ceiling collapsed? What if the food was poisoned? What if one of the students was really just someone evil in disguise, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike? There were so many things that could go horribly wrong, so many possibilities that he couldn't even imagine, so many spells that could be used against him and his peers that he wasn't even aware existed.