Event The Fall Ball (Masquerade)

As Maximilien de Fostoncy | owl for interactions

English | French | Outfit

Interacting with Elise Laurent (@Scarlett Aden)

Taking a deep breath, Maximilien glanced around. He was overall fascinated by Hogwarts and England, but maybe it just didn’t feel alright. His hand was still in Elise’s, but for that, it felt fabulous. Dark grey gaze fell on the beautiful French blonde. Sighing, he couldn’t help looking at her — looking at his goddess.

Suddenly he saw something. A doll, and a girl to be exact. What were they doing? He didn’t know, and suddenly he lost sight of them. (OOC note: Maxi had succeeded in spotting Meenauh some rounds ago, so I would say that he lost sight bc he didn’t attempt a search in the past few rounds) Shaking his head lightly, he moved his gaze on to the people in the ballroom.

Apparently they were intriguing. Fun enough to entertain himself. Mostly Maxi was alone by the pond of the de Fostoncy manor, lost in his thoughts, so solitude for now didn’t really distract him. He wouldn’t mind sitting there alone, and observing everyone from a distance. But the young Frenchman had decided not to leave his goddess’s side tonight. If Elise was a princess, he would be her knight. At least for tonight.

But still, he was bored. Just a bit, he would swear to Merlin. And suddenly the boy felt a bit insecure. He gently drew his hand from Elise, and reached his wand in his pocket. “We’d be okay.” He whispered to her. “Trust me.” he winked, then smiled gently.

And he turned his attention to the ballroom again, trying to look for anything suspicious. Maxi had decided, if he was needed by someone, he’d be there immediately. Although would anyone actually need him? He wasn’t sure. But of course, Elise came first in everything. He should be protecting her tonight.

-or forever. Still, Maxi didn’t know.

Action: Looking out for anything suspicious
Stats: Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 8 | Strength: 2 | Wisdom: 8 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 8
Abilities: Lovely Creature | Perfectionist

[1][2][3][4]

Not Exactly the target he would be expecting in this moment, especially not after the first Triumphant battle against the Giant. However, the who or why was far less important than the fact that it was happening at all. @Erin Ryan Could have said they were targeting a professor over cheese cake and he would go along with it. He was committed at this point

Kyle looked towards @Selim Faust and offered a shrug and a simple "Cheers mate" before he closed his right hand into a fist, cocked back and threw his own punch towards the boy whom he had never met before. At the very least, as a wand had been drawn he could justify this as preventing an escalation of the situation. After all, what kind of violent reprobate casts spells in a large crowded ballroom? Was that justification shoddy at best and paper thin? Yes.

Successful or not in the combined attack Kyle noticed Erin's hand reach out blindly for him, searching. A smile came to the rough and tumble irish boy's face as he would push his arm to meet her hand so she could grab onto him. "If there is anyone here who could use a good ass kicking, Theres a snake. Blonde boy on the dueling team, Some stupid Viking wanna be name that starts with an E...Erik. Been wanting to kick his teeth in since last year. Long as you dont mind fighting a house mate, That's who I'd target if they're even here"

Action: Punching Selim with Erin (Sorry Selim)

Stamina: 10|Evasion: 4|Strength: 15|Wisdom: 2|ArcPower: 5|Accuracy: 5

Obnoxiously Strong: +10% strength

Mod Posts
First | Second | Third | Fourth | Fifth | Sixth | Seventh | Eighth | Ninth | Tenth

While the music was chilling out, the fight for the doll was heating up. Certainly, the doll was immobile and caught, but there were vastly different ideas about what to do with it. @Xailah Alptraum was the one with the doll in her hand, but where would the doll be once the dust settled?

Initiative
Selim 1d100 [62], Maya id100 [51], Xailah 1d100 [7], Meenauh 1d100 [56],
Erin [70], Thomas [76], Kyle [80]
Kyle > Thomas > Erin > Selim > Meenauh > Maya > Xailah
Effect:
Because Selim is going before Meenauh and Maya, Xailah is now dodging.

The timing was essential, but it would still come down to accuracy. Was @Selim Faust's wand as disobedient as he thought, would the ball finally be set ablaze? Would @Kyle DeRook or @Erin Ryan stop him, would @Thomas Lestrange stop Erin?

And what a fight it was. As the doll was frozen in the clutches of its beloved, old rivalries flared, and a Hogwarts tradition continued despite @Maya Galim's best efforts to contain it immediately. If only she had been slightly quicker...

There was another chance that he could have been stopped-- Erin's professional hook looked like pure perfection, maybe even as good as the one Kyle had landed. Yet somehow even that did not land on the slippery snake with the full weight behind it. Even though the aim was true, Selim had found a way to move that softened the blow significantly. Thomas had tried to stop Erin before she could swing, being the quickest to draw his wand, but as with the last ball, he would find it a challenge to actually target the blonde blur. Now, there was thousands of bright green lights glistening around the group the fight. Anyone can now freely notice the doll fight taking place.

There was another part of these magical green sparks that some astute DADA students might remember-- it reveals secrets hidden behind dark magic. As it so happened, Thomas was illuminating quite the interesting group of students. Anyone standing behind Erin would barely see something under her long, flaxen hair. Something about her back... as it was covered, this would take further inspection, or moving her hair aside, to understand. What was suddenly clear however was her swollen joints, and skeletal structure that seemed skewed or perhaps warped. The only other obvious change, if one was paying attention, was how Vladimir's hands under the green light were black as pitch.

There were more subtle changes as well, an investigation amidst all the action would perhaps reveal some tantalizing clues about the strange students. The sparks only last briefly (one round) however, so the window is closing.

Instead, Selim's wand burst with beautiful flame, though the graceful cat was nearly as slippery as he was. She was keenly aware of when it was appropriate to be light on her feet. She saved herself and the doll from a fiery fate, but the curtains nearby were not so lucky. They drank the magical flame like they had been anxiously awaiting the opportunity. FIRE!!!


@Meenauh Silmataurea successfully cast and aimed her spell at Selim, but his ninja-like reflexes were hard to predict. He didn't move like a normal 12-year-old moved. He was always on the look-out for danger, and seemed to know exactly where it was coming from. Things weren't about to get better for her any time soon. Maya's spell created a beautiful arc of water that glistened in the candlelight, soaking Selim's dashing outfit to the bone. Now he was wet and nearly unconscious, but he had started a fire as he intended.

As it turned out, the doll was still in Xailah's hand 1d3 for duration [3] = 2 rounds and its frozen form seemed to be ever so slightly softening. Only a short while before it was once again a free agent. She had apologized to it... wasn't every word out of her mouth like a message from heaven? A honeyed edict from the lips of his pure, dark maiden. It would be sure to do whatever it took to deserve such a humble goddess, it would tear the world into a million pieces if the two of them could fit on the final fragment.

Above, a short flight to get some fresh air was going horribly wrong. It wasn't @Piérre Marchonné's fault, of course, @Marion Davenport chose to fall on purpose. Piérre was a keen enough observer to note something was wrong before the ear-piercing scream of a girl plummeting to her death, but was there anything he could do?


His noticed the unweaving hands, her cold body slipping away from an embrace on his back. Swiftly, he moved to grab her, but her rose-smelling, oily hand slipped through his fingers. She screamed as she fell, in full sight of everyone gathered, aimed at an unfortunate prefect. @Vladimir Athanatos's date Madeline Nakamura (@Aaron Jones) was not just standing idly by. Having been watching the chaos unfold, she was prepared to take action when a young girl began to fall.

Marion fell on Meenauh, but both of them had been rescued from the crash of the train wreck. Marion was far too light to cause significant damage to Meenauh, and the subsequent fall onto the ground felt like jumping into a soft bed. Seeing as Marion was particularly fragile, the collision with her classmate was still painful, just not nearly as painful as the death plummet she was expecting.

As Marion entered the sparkling green lights from above, nearly every inch of her exposed skin was black. All around her body, spottily reaching up to her face, the darkness consumed her previously pale flesh. That wasn't normal.

Just because a fight with an evil doll was happening and a fire was starting, that didn't mean there wasn't time for more broken hearts churning out some broken noses. @Rafael D'Spacito had entered beast mode, but his target wasn't Vladimir as he had thought, but the unassuming first year @Jackson Valentine who dared to dance with a girl he liked.

Rafael punches Jackson
Rafael's aim: 1d20 [5] + 8 = 13 (failure)
Jackson's evasion: 1d20 [6] + 12 = 18 (success)

He didn't hit him though. It seemed this youth was more exceptional at dodging than nearly anyone his age. It paid off, though it was doubtful that the confrontation would end here.

Alexei Petrov (@Anastasia Beckett) and Maximilien de Fostoncy (@Lindsey Springhall) would both easily see the doll fight at this point. No amount of distraction was going to stop them from hearing Marion's scream or seeing the growing fire. There was more to see, however.

Alexei looks for something suspicious DC 10, DC 20 1d20 [2] + 4 = 6 (failure)

Maximilien looks for something suspicious DC 10, DC 20 1d20 [14] + 8 = 22 (success)

Alexei would not see the other fight taking place, nor much of anything besides the obvious. Too many girls around. Maximilien however would see Rafael's fight, as well as something odd where the green light show was taking place... there was something that wasn't right... some shadows were missing.

Actions this round
@Santario Martin left the ball.

[font=Monotype Corsiva]For your consideration[/font]

• There is normally a mod post every Friday, but seeing as it will be Christmas Day, I am going to instead extend the mod to two weeks, meaning the next mod will be on January 1st. Happy holidays!
• There are two parties going on simultaneously, the Masquerade in the Ballroom and the Costume Party in the Rehearsal Room. Both are on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, so travelling between the two does not take much time. For ease of moderation, please clearly denote when you are going from one to the other. During moderation, this takes a full action.
• Your characters are no longer able to join the ongoing Hunt. People who have already joined the Hunt can still travel between all three locations, but each movement will still take a full action unless otherwise stated.
• Because changing parties is considered an action, this means you can switch once a week, though that also means you won't be able to take another action until the next mod.
• Actions besides changing parties are any attempt to do something to someone else such as attack, investigate, cast any spell, or generally anything that has a chance to fail depending on your stats. Minor interactions that are agreed upon between two players are free to take as much as you like. If you're unsure whether your intended plan involves an action, you can feel free to message me for clarification. Please do not roll your own actions even if they are minor.

"One mask is broken, but it is much harder to break the ones beneath the skin. "

Speaking to: @Maya Galim, @Erin Ryan & @Xailah Alptraum

Selim glared in anger at his wand, he had missed.

Oh, the spell had been cast, but his aim had been thrown off by his mask. Instead of fire consuming that stupid doll, it beautifully lit up the room, dancing dangerously as it consumed the curtains.

He could see figures inside the flames, twirling and contorting as their faces yawned at him, mocking him, haunting him.

A punch came from one side, a random male attacking him and failing, as many others except Erin had. He was truly living up to his house's mascot. A twisting snake, bending and moving each which way to near-unnatural degrees to evade attackers, before striking back with the accuracy of a hawk and the venom of a scorpion.

He heard laughter from one of the phantoms as it drifted over the crowd like a dementor, diving toward him like a wraith, face contorting into something cursed. His heart clenched as he watched with open eyes, but it disappeared before it's spindly figures reached him. All that was in it's place was curling smoke.

He shook his head, this wasn't the time, wasn't the time to slip from reality. He cast a look at Vladimir, eyes apologetic, but in that time that pest Erin Ryan moved.

Perhaps, if Selim had the time, he'd admire the girl's fighting ability, but he didn't.

The hook came right under his guard. His honed instincts were screeching at him, and he moved again, but not fast enough. There's only so much a twelve-year-old can do in a chaotic situation like this.

The fist smashed into his mask, and like bone, it shattered.

Shards of hard plastic pierced his skin, blood spraying around him in a deceptively beautiful arc. One just missed his eye, digging into the cheek and hitting the bone and muscle beneath. He almost lost an eye from that move, because of a girl's petty 'revenge'.

Pain arched through him as he instinctively rolled with the move, ivory bone falling beneath where he had stood. Blood stained his vision, and the eye where the hit had landed below was blurred, not just because of the scarlet running down his pale face. No, his contact lens had fallen out, revealing one amber eye.

A few spells fired at him, and he dodged them instinctively, nausea rolling in his stomach as his world spun disjointedly. The 's companion had shot a spell at him, and failed again. Perhaps that would be infuriating to the other upperclassmen, but he didn't care. His mind fished up a random piece of knowledge, the prefect list, the Gryffindor prefect. He forgot her name, but he could recognize the eyes now, the hair, the distinct feline aura she gave off with one look.

So not only had the upperclassmen been breaking the rules and attacking a fellow student unprompted with magic, but she was also a prefect, they're supposed to help protect the student body.

Disappointment and anger flared once more, his bloodlust, which had taken over without him noticing, flared. His logic was barely controlling it.

"We're injured and bleeding. We're nearly-unconscious. We cannot fight without risking our lives.:

Karma turned against him once more, interrupting, as he was doused with water. Blood was washed away, and the water dripped off him, forming a rust-tinted puddle on the ground. It actually soothed his stinging wounds slightly, he supposed now they had less of a chance to catch infection now. He looked toward who had cast the spell, a professor.

His annoyed expression eased into one of understanding. He accepted his drenched form as a minor, temporary punishment for setting this event aflame, if unintentionally.

Half the mask had been broken, the other remained stuck to his face, eye still blue in it's deep-set socket. He was wet, but his wounds still sluggishly bled red. He didn't dare take out the shards of his mask, or else his bleeding would quicken. Then he was distracted by a flash of green and he peered at the lime-lit scene before him.

Vlad's hands were black, and the girl who had fallen was completely black as she entered the eerie light.

Erin Ryan looked like a skeletal puppet. Selim observed here with narrowed, odd-colored eyes, the whole scene bringing up thoughts of the spiders' curse from last year, and how the Scarecrow looked before he himself hand ended the scarred, suffering boy.

His eyes glinted in the fire with new knowledge, but he was quickly brought to reality as his pain spiked. He let out a hiss, one hand reaching up to his injured face and coming away stained red. He swore, standing unsteadily as he swayed on the spot, vision blurring, depth perception skewed wildly.

He glared at Erin in all her skeletal, swollen glory. A thought darted across his mind as he spoke to her in a strained, low voice. "What happened to you, Ryan? Make a deal with the Devil? I wonder if the reward was worth the obvious cost."

His voice was hissing, cruel. He knew this was tied to magic, dark magic, as the green spark spell was from DADA. He didn't have time to analyze it though, he was too busy bleeding out.

With a disjointed motion, he stood up straight in all his blood-stained, twelve-year-old majesty, and turned to his previous intended target. "If you want to live up to your 'Prefect' title, dear upperclassmen, then you should throw that cursed doll in the fire before it injures someone you're supposed to be protecting." His voice was accusatory, obviously stating that if the girl couldn't do this one simple things, she wasn't living up to her title.

With that he dipped his head in Vlad's direction, and darted over to the professor who had decided to actually take care of her charges. He hid behind her, clutching the mangled half of his face.

He felt dizzy.

"I'm sorry, professor, I didn't intend to catch everything on fire. It was the only thing I could think of doing against that doll in the moment, especially since it wanted to stab me."

He actually sounded apologetic, as his rather pitiful wet figure swayed in place. "Before you send me off to detention can you keep me from being attacked by the blond, I'd rather not be knocked out in this chaos."

His breath came a bit rapid as his newly-twisted depth perception opened the door to his mind's horrors. Shadowy figures shrouded real people as the flames grew, beings dancing inside it, haunting whispers cluttering his mind once more as pain dully throbbed through him. He shivered silently, more from the things he saw and heard then actually being drenched in water. A pity, he had liked this attire, but honestly, what was he to expect from this school? He should have backup outfits for his backup outfits.

The whispers grew louder, making his headache burst into a full-blown migraine. It hurt to talk, ivory was scraping against bone, and his amber eye was clenched shut against the stinging blood leaking into it.

His jaw was clicking and stinging every time he moved. "I think... my jaw is broken...." He coughed, blood leaking into his mouth from his cheek, dribbling down into his throat. Wincing and clutching his head, nails digging into skin, he muttered profanity in Japanese under his breath and sunk to the floor. "I think... I'm just going to sit here. It's too loud, and everything hurts..." He hissed, but kept speaking, slipping into Japanese in his sluggishness. "I haven't had it this bad... since Otou-sama trained me in summer... probably why I'm not knocked out right now."

He leaned against the professor, lacking the ability t hold himself upright even while he sat. He was going to get some scars on his face now, it seems. Guess he and the Fox no longer matched.

It was odd, how he felt safer around the professor. Usually he stayed far away from adults, for valid reasons, obviously. Maybe he was too clouded in his thinking to feel the same, deep-rooted fear he usually did when interacting with the adults of the school.

He watched the fight through half-lidded eyes, speaking no longer as he observed reality mix with his nightmares in a haunting scene. Idly, under his breath, he hummed a haunted tune. Had he been in this professor's class? He forgot... actually he felt like he was forgetting a lot of things in that moment.

His eyes drifted to the ground as he watch his blood drip to the ground below in a sticky fashion, plopping down wetly in a familiar manner. His mind darted back to his time in that dungeon, trapped, afraid, alone, in pain. He remembered watching red drip to the ground as pieces of him were taken and broken into smaller shards of himself, until he forgot who he really was.

Now he had glued the pieces back together, but it came out warped, different from before. Not all of them fit, so they floated as their own entity, inside his head. They were like masks, but weren't truly fake. They were him, just a different him.

He didn't dwell on it as his hands loosely clutched his skull, pain no where near comparable to That Day, scraping against his spine like knives. He was tired, he had done all he could for the Eagle he had chosen to ally himself to. Now it was someone else's turn.

He was, after all, only twelve.

Sometimes it was hard for him to remember that.

The scene would devolve into chaos. Erin continuing with her petty rivalries, a simple plan. To hurt what Jack cared for since that was certainly not her. Yes, it was jealousy and spite. She had hardly realized the slow change within her, how the crones held their end of this Faustian deal. This bubbling animosity drove her rather than an abstract want, indeed she felt it and that was a terrible change. It was all she felt, the shame and the resentment, the loneliness and the rage. Selim would suffer for it.

She would hit him with the sum of her strength, her weight behind her dominant hand as her knuckles hit the Slytherin's mask. A *crack* could be heard as the brittle covering was shattered. Erin was not a trained fighter, more a brute with a pretty face. On a positive note, the blood on her knuckles was red, a mixture of both @Selim Faust's and her own.

Somehow the spindly youth was still standing, he did not look like he was capable of enduring a stiff breeze, much less the Slytherin's interminabidable wrath. @Kyle DeRook joined in the fray, unfussed by the fact that this dance was more a brawl than a romantic interlude. Unruffled by the fact that she was targeting an ex, well an ex's 'boyfriend' as she called him. He missed, as Erin almost did. They would finish him she thought but mitigating circumstances caused a changed course.

“Ryan, you’ve become quite predictable.”

A flash of green sparks by none other than the circuitous @Thomas LeStrange. She blinked, not blinded by the verdant light, her body was bathed in the revealing illumination. She staggered back, unharmed but cognizant of what could be seen. Her stomach felt like it had been filled with lead weights; her head pounded between her temples and her eyes scanned the source. Her lip curled in disgust. Predictable, she scoffed. "You're good for nothing but --" she snapped, never finishing the sentence. She was agitated but more than that, she had something to hide.

Her hand would search for Kyle hand and grasp it tightly as she attempted to back away. "Have fun mopping up the mess, Prefect." Another puppet for the death witches, the giants and the crones. She was not going to give him anything else to take when she had so little.

For but a moment, the truth would be apparent. The part Veela's beauty was only skin deep. Beneath the tanned skin and powerful muscle was a twisted and pained carriage. Swollen joints and bones that are twisted and bent. There was a change at her very core, beneath the care and refinement of her physical weapon were undermined by something terrible and dark from deep within. She needed to run before the truth could be seen.

"What happened to you, Ryan? Make a deal with the Devil? I wonder if the reward was worth the obvious cost."

"Not in the least," she hissed in reply. She was leaving, breaking away from this fray. Before the right question was asked. Before the actual, dire truth was seen. "And none of your damned business, Fangs." They were not friends or colleagues or whatever it was that Jack and him considered one another to be, even if the claim reeked of utter bullshit like most things either said. Her stubbornness and power of will were greater than the flimsy bonds between any of them.

An excuse to leave would not be hard to come up with. A victory lap, they felled the giant and this sickly Asian was on his last leg. The ballroom was on fire, thanks to Faust. A public health threat of a greater degree than her fists. Then there was the jumper on the broom she saw out of the corner of her eye that she barely paid heed to. She was an irrelevant to her. Someone that did not matter, dead or alive... well or not.

"Let's go," Erin announced. It was not an order, despite the power in her voice. She just would not say it like it actually was, a plea. Please leave. She -had- to leave and she did not want be -seen- walking away. A tug. A pull. If he did not follow, her hand would attempt to slip out of his if she ever held his.

It would be only then that he would see it, no reason to look at her when they were side by side. Too close to see, missing the forest one could say for the trees. He was the only one close enough to see when she turned his back to him. Her long, thick blonde tresses hid the marks, well most of them despite the emerald glow of LeStrange's wand. The sway of her flaxen tresses would reveal the truth for but a moment but could be easily misinterpreted. She was strong, her bare shoulders knew the weight of physical and emotional burden. Perhaps it was merely muscles that rippled ever so slightly, in an unnatural manner. A trick of the light. Imagination. The scars, those were real. Kyle knew about scars, about marks that changed the canvas of flesh permanently. He bore one on his face, not that she ever asked where from. Perhaps she should have, then she would know that she should be running from more than Thomas' night light trick.

Action: Attempts to Leave with or without Kyle.

@Selim Faust @Erin Ryan

No matter how much anyone tried, tradition was tradition. Her water spell could not counteract the fire blast that was aimed in her direction towards the doll. Luckily, the child who was near the doll was not harmed. They had dodged the blast ever so quickly.

Thank G-d, Maya thought to herself. It was one thing to have an entire ballroom up in flames, but another when a child is ablaze, especially with a professor as witness.

The fire was quickly rapidly. It was eating away at anything it could get its hands onto. This was an utter defeat. Why couldn't it be just one year without Hogwarts going up in flames? A flood would have been a nice change of scenery. Maya tore off her mask, believing that she was unable to counteract the fire blast because her mask prevented her from focusing. She tossed the mask behind her, away from the fire.

"I'm sorry, professor, I didn't intend to catch everything on fire. It was the only thing I could think of doing against that doll in the moment, especially since it wanted to stab me."

Maya looked at the child angrily with no words. This was to be more than an apology. If anyone else had gotten hurt, it would be have been on her as she was unsure if there were any other faculty that were in the ballroom other than Lazarus Plott, who was, most likely, thinking of himself.

"Before you send me off to detention can you keep me from being attacked by the blond, I'd rather not be knocked out in this chaos."

Blond-haired girl? she thought to herself and while she looked to the side, she saw a fourth year Slytherin girl with blonde hair walk up and knock the living crap out him. Maya quickly walked up to the Slytherin boy who had made his way to the ground, his jaw pooling with blood, and knelt down beside him to see if he was alright.

She looked up to see that the girl who punched him was making a run for it. "HEY," Maya called out for the girl, but it seemed that she had made a run for it. It wouldn't be difficult to find the teenage scum who nearly knocked out the boy on the ground.

Still angry at his decision to burn down the ballroom, removed the anger from her voice. "You'll be okay. Just relax and stay here. Don't do anything," she comforted him. She would handle his consequence later once everything else around them had settled down.

Maya stood back up and focused her mind on what needed to be dealt with: the fires in the ballroom. Grabbing her wand, she pointed it towards the largest area of fire. She did the same spell as she tried last time.

"Aqua Eructo!" she shouted, and Maya blast water out of her wand on top of the fire as well as in areas that were near the fire to damp them to slow down the fire's power.

ACTION: Cast Aqua Eructo on the fire to extinguish the fire, and in areas around the fire to lessen the fire's pace.

She would relinquish her grip and she would fall. She would scream, it was instinct despite the fact that she knowingly let go. Despite the fact that she knew what would happen, that did nothing to ameliorate the fear. Not the fear of death, that was impending and she retained an intense faith in Vladimir.

The fall happened quickly, in the blink of the eye should would fall. Everything seemed to move slower for her. There was something about panic and terror that slows time, gives one more time to react, to correct course. However, in her case it was a cruelty because it merely protracted her terror and anticipation.

She would hit the ground with an unceremonious THUMP. The ground was spongy, she bounced a bit but her form was limp. A flash of green would overtake her. It looked as if her blood vessels were injected with black ink. Even the fine capillaries were darkened. Of course, when the green sparks relented she would appear 'normal.' Well as normal as a pretty girl who took a terrible fall could look. She was quite fragile, it was rather apparent as one would look down at her crumbled form. She was not bleeding, she was simply broken.

A foot turned the wrong way. A forearm that was not straight. Landings were rarely kind and hers, despite the cushioned landing. She was not moving.

Rendered unconscious from the fall. Nothing really to say here.

Interacting with: @Erin Ryan
Mentions: @Illowy Magnard

As His date spoke of her desire to leave and turned to walk away his eyes caught something on her back. Scars. In a world of magical fixes nobody wore scars unless it was caused by some curse, or cursed being. Like the bite he hid, or the scar he carried on his face from his own claws. Kyle knew what scars meant, and in this moment he felt a kinship with Erin.

Her anger and her violence probably stemmed from the same place his did. Cursed by some dark creature and having her body twisted and manipulated in ways she couldn't control. Could she be a werewolf herself? It was possible. after all, Kyle always went out of his way to hide from and avoid the others wolves. separating himself and, against sound judgement, chaining himself in the basement to spend his transformations locked away in seclusion like the monster he was. refusing to revel in his beast hood like so many others did. As if it was a life ruining curse.

Kyle felt Erin's hand start to slip from his but then he gripped, to get a solid grip on her. To let her know he was there. "I'm with you Starling" he said firmly to reassure her he was sticking by her side.

As they made their way towards the door he couldnt help but notice the strange ripples across her back. maybe it his was his eyes playing tricks on him but more likely it had something to do with her scars and her sudden desire to leave.

Kyle gave one last glance to the crowd, hoping to catch his cousin's eye if she still remained or wasnt pretending he was dead to her for the rest of the night. If she saw him, she would notice the serious, conflicted expression on his face but sadly he was unable to see her to give her any kind of signal or parting words before exiting the ballroom with Erin

"Starling. Let's go outside, to the Lake. Theres something I want to show you, to talk about"

ACTION: Leaving the Ball with Erin

Stats
Stamina: 10|Evasion: 4|Strength: 15|Wisdom: 2|ArcPower: 5|Accuracy: 5

Abilities
Obnoxiously Strong: +10% strength

There was a lot to take in and Vladimir missed almost nothing. The rampaging doll that was... in love? He sneered at the notion, the fallacy it likely was. Another manipulation to pull at the sinews of their heart so that they might bide their time and strike again. He was not as foolish as the girl in the cat mask was. He would tell the world that it was her! Not that anyone would listen. Not that anyone would care. Less one, @Selim Faust. He brandished his wand and called out Incendio. His cast was a miss on both the girl and the monstrosity she held, the ball was set ablaze.

Professor @Maya Galim from Muggle Studies was attempting to extinguish the blaze. The doll a secondary concern it would seem, rather than a dark creation the fire that the students could easily escape unless they lacked the most basic of sense and decided to run towards the fire rather than away. He should have told her to toss the doll into the fire, to destroy the threat before it was too late but she would not listen. Adults rarely listened to teens.

Besides, he was otherwise indisposed.

Marion had fallen. Possibly pushed from that broom. The doll was their problem, considering the fact that the Prefect @Meenauh Silmataurea raised a wand to him. Ironic she was astonished that he would hit back. She did not want his help so why give it. Keep the damn doll. "WhAt DiD yOu Do!: He screamed at @Piérre Marchonné not that he pursued him, he rushed to the place where she landed. She had not landed far, she landed on his own assailants.

He did not care how it made him look. The fact that he was mad. "Mary-- MARY!" He repeated as he knelt beside her and shook her shoulders. One of them was dislocated, her could feel it as he gripped her fragile frame. "Peverell, what happened this time."

The flash of heat, the scent of burning wood and the ensuing sounds of chaos. He would try to lift her, she reminded him of a broken doll in need of mending. "It is going to be okay..." he whispered. He would look up at Pierre, a dark glint in his eye. The Gryffindor was as good as dead. "It is going to be okay, I promise..." It was a lie and he knew it, it twisted him up on the inside. Despite all appearances suggesting otherwise, he was a limited, finite being. He could not, but he would. He must.

"Faust!" His voice cracked. He had nobody else to call out to. "Get the girl," he was talking about his date Madeline Nakamura (@Aaron Jones) "and yourself out of here." It was too dangerous here, they needed to retreat. Reconvene. He did not want to have to drag the boy out of there as well, he blamed himself for the duo that assailed him also. He had more enemies than he could count, but thankfully he could take them on. There was only one minor issue that he could not fix, it was the thing that made him human and it was the very thing that would strip his humanity away. "If I don't see you, I will find you."

Action: Attempts to carry Marion out of the ballroom.

Open to Interactions; Helping Vladimir with Marion
Mentioning: @Vladimir Athanatos & @Marion Davenport

Everything happened so quickly, the Britalian hardly had time to notice that the world was changing around him.

It had started with Marion's claim that her own secrets could never be safe. In and of itself, Piérre knew that that was very insightful. After all, the young generation thrived upon secrets and hearsay in order to formulate their own opinions of the world... but if there was something which desperately disturbed her so, disturbed her to the point of anger, it would do nothing beneficial for her to bottle it inside and pretend as if it never bothered her. A statue of marble with a heart of flesh could feel pain just as well as its flesh brethren with hearts of marble.

Yet, Piérre would not challenge her, only nodding to himself and ignoring the pricking of tears in the corner of his eyes; the inability to console or assist. If he was unable to be of help in a situation as simple as this, then how could he assist in a situation far more desperate? A matter of life or death, like the fight which was reigning down below?

The answer to his quiet musing was a cryptic "At least it wasn't Potter this time," and despite himself, Piérre managed to laugh a bit. At least there was humor in that statement, as hollow as the words may have been, the chill that pervaded the air and caused the hairs on the back of Piérre's neck to stand on end. An unearthly chill, that cadaverous nature... something that he just couldn't shake. The scent of roses stained with iron. Something desperately wrong with the action of flying and calming the distressed mind of one Marion.

Looking behind him at his passenger, Piérre only just noticed the light scream and then suddenly his partner was attempting to slip away from him.

"MARION! NO!" He cried out, reaching out a hand and snatching her wrist. "Come on... why, why?! Just... just..." Panic set hold and offered him strength.
For a second, he strained, trying to drag her up again, but he had pulled just a tad too hard, and instead, with a scent of roses, Marion slipped from his shocked grasp. Falling... falling...

Emerald eyes widened and then focused like a hawk's, a secondary instinct kicking in. A falling Gryffindor teammate, a Quidditch Seeker. How much time did he have...?

Not enough.

In a beat, the boy tipped his broom straight down, feeling the wind smack against his face and body. He was pressing himself downward, trying to make himself fall faster than Marion as the ground came closer and closer... reaching out to embrace them both. There was tricks of the light, a shadow which seemed to consume every part of Marion's exposed skin; from her hands creeping up to her face. It was as if she was burning, ashen embers transforming the lovely girl into char.

He was too late, as Marion struck the ground. As she fell atop students, Piérre wrenched himself upward to avoid the same fate, letting out a cry of pain as he watched the proceedings. Green eyes wildly peered about the situation, trying to assess and prevent. How could he help now, now that the ball was devolving into chaos? Who could he save? Who could he help? High above the chaos and untouched by the rest of the world, he saw all and could do nothing.

Patience.

What?

Go.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?! A person, upperclassman, surely, shouted up at him. In response, Piérre covered his face, letting his tears run freely as he cried back in a broken, scared voice. "I- I don't know! I... hic I tried to help her! She... she slipped, I couldn't...!" His shoulders shaking, Piérre's mind ran with thousands of thoughts, swirling confusingly in his mind. The cussout, the fall of his dance partner... what had he done? "She jumped, and... and I tried to help! I! I...!" Piérre's cheeks were slowly being stained with tear streaks, and his ears were folding back once again, shamefully and as testament to his fear of being hurt.

Quickly, he zipped down to the ground, hovering on his broom a few feet off the ground in order to sit at eye level with Vladimir, who was attempting to pick up Marion and attracting the attention of another boy to get her out of here @Selim Faust. Good idea in Piérre's opinion, and though he could see the dark glint in the eyes of the young man, Piérre payed no heed, still feeling indebted to Marion and his role in the misfortune that had befallen her while she had been in his care. "Here, I can come with. Put her up with me and I'll carry her with you at her side." This was towards the small, dark boy. Piérre glanced quickly to the vengeful upperclassmen. "I'll be low to the ground this time, so she doesn't get hurt anymore. It was my fault; I'll help and own up to it." Piérre said the last words quietly, willing his words to reach the heart of another concerned person.

At this point, visible distress would be seen on the Britalian's face: pinked cheeks, a twisted grimace, and gritted teeth, were his futile attempts to hold back bitter tears, yet a shaky sob escaped him now and again as he tried to avoid the stares of people watching him in the midst of the spectacle.

Piérre is Ugly Crying & trying to Help Vladimir & Marion

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: @Piérre Marchonné, Romeo Marchonné, Hanzo Fransson, @Rafael D'Spacito, & @Marion Davenport

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