A Winter's Ball Ballroom PV Beckett Gala Guests

Open to interactions!
Interacting with: Charles Alluring (@Henry Knight) and @Katherine Labrouder
Outfits:
The Father | The Daughter | The Mother
The Father: #000040 | The Daughter: #400040 | The Mother: #800040

As Kath's eyes shifted away from Silver, the young Ventress followed her gaze to where the boy from earlier was standing, lifting the Pepper Imp she had sent his way to his mouth. Excellent. Abruptly, though, he stopped, and she watched with annoyance as he stalked towards her, pressing the wizarding treat into her chest and shoving her aside as he walked past. What the hell? How did this boy, who, based on his male gender and evident dislike towards her country, she decided to call Miss America, know that the candy had been from her? Yes, she had noticed Kath look back at her while staring at the boy, but there was no way in hell that this mere glance could be enough to alert him not only not to eat the candy, but also that it had been sent his way by her. It must have been the caterer, then, who told Miss America who the Pepper Imp had been from. Stupid waitstaff. But if the caterer had, in fact, been the one to alert the boy to Silver's plans, then why had Miss America started to eat the candy in the first place? This brought the blame back to Kath, but it still didn't make sense how she had somehow warned the boy at the last possible moment not to eat the Pepper Imp, nevermind how she had found out about Silver's plot in the first place. She supposed she must have been watching her while the Ventress was talking to the caterer, which made the girl realize she probably should have hidden that conversation better. Damn it. Oh well, she thought as she clenched her jaw, the Pepper Imp may not have worked, but she wasn't done with the boy. Miss America may have gotten away unscathed for now, but she would get back at him later.

Her attention was brought away from the boy, however, as Kath asked her to hold her drink for her. "Of course," she said, her smile never faltering despite her annoyance at the girl's request. "We wouldn't want you accidentally spilling it on anyone else now, would we? As Kath straightened up and walked towards Silver, bumping into her and whispering a stream of Russian words that were frankly too fast and low for the Ventress to properly follow before loudly proclaiming that Silver had been the one to spill the drink on Kath, however, the girl's smile dipped momentarily. Did Kath seriously think this would work? They were both standing close together and, yes, Silver was holding the drink, but the Ventress's was the dress that was soaking wet, not Kath's. In fact, there wasn't even a trace of any liquid on the other girl's clothes. Furthermore, they were standing in the middle of a ballroom completely full with ever-watchful Purebloods, meaning that it was almost guaranteed for someone to have seen Kath's apology to Silver, if not the initial spilling itself. To think that simply handing the glass to Silver and acting as if a great tragedy had occurred would make people believe the Ventress had been the one to actually spill the drink was not only unfounded, but absurd. Silver narrowed her eyes, then smoothed her features into a warm, sympathizing smile at Kath. She had thought the other girl had at least some grace, some sense of logical planning, but it seemed she did not. Silver just had to make sure everybody else could see that, too.

"Oh, no, you must be confused. Look, honey, I get it. You tripped, you spilled your drink. It's embarrassing, I know. And I understand, really, that you're scared of what your parents might say or that I might get mad and blame you for spilling something on my dress. But I assure you, it's okay! I'm not mad." She took a step closer to Kath, her smile never faltering. Her voice was loud, loud enough for not just the other girl, but any of the ball's onlookers, to hear. "But, honey, you have to know that trying to frame me, or to frame anyone, isn't the right way to get out of your problems. I'm the one with the wet dress here, we can all see that. And if you want, you can ask the bartender or any of the caterers, and they can tell you that I never ordered a drink from any of them, so this glass must be yours. Really, Kath, I understand that you might be panicking right now about possibly insulting me, but, like I said, I'm not mad. In fact, I can teach you how to properly hold a glass to make sure you don't have any more accidents like this in the future, if you like." Silver locked eyes with the girl. "Does that sound alright with you? "

interactions @Willow Anderson, Lord Neptune, npcs
interaction status [dm to interact]
mentions Willow Anderson, Anastasia Beckett, npcs

position leaving Lrd Neptune, alongside Willow
abilities: terrible presence | lovely creature | spell spread

Cue the pleasantries. In between information that Astrea neither had any interest or business paying too much attention to being passed from one to another, she was forced into keeping afloat light small talk. How school was faring, how her family was, how the break had gone. It was clear that engaging in meaningless conversational topics was easier to conduct with the young Neptune heir than her father. She was getting older and soon the idea of betrothal and other such matters would apply once more- now Elena Jones had long ago disappeared off the face of the Earth, no longer a threat to them.

The Beckett Manor was beautifully designed and decorated, a marvellous setting for such an event as a holiday gala. Accented with trims of gold and black bordering, the intricately painted pillars offered a pleasantly geometric order to the lattice bannisters. She had been more focused on appearing properly when they had been introduced, but now- zoning out as conversation moved past the novelty of a child amongst themselves- she could appreciate the beauty of the ballroom even filled with so many people. If she were to break courtesy and peer upwards, she would no doubt see the bellies of enchanted ice swans flying overhead, twisting through the gaps of the ballroom and around the chandelier. Briefly, she wondered how Anastasia was doing, somewhere in the crowd as the host.

A flash of fandango pink hair travelling within the loosely crowded ballroom was what drew Astrea's attention away from the light educated conversation she had placed herself as a spectator to, a recognisable figure moving ever closer through the crowd. Cocking her head slightly to the side in interest, the Slytherin deliberately ignored the glance Lord Neptune gave her fleetingly. With just a single action she was drifting off script, but how could she follow one with this new variable?

Ah, Willow Anderson. Unexpected in arrival and yet wholly welcomed the same. She looked as radiant as usual- dressed up in a powder blue dress of tulle and fabric flowers that swished elegantly with every movement, hair brighter than the last time she had seen the other-, a glow of giddy excitement surrounding her. Embarrassingly, the fondness sparking within her travelled upwards to colour both ear and cheek alike, though talk had stopped and suddenly all attention was on the young badger instead of her inability to keep her emotions in check. Delightfully made up and gracefully manoeuvring around such an event so normalised for many highborns with an ease unmatched, the Hufflepuff was ever the fairytale princess Astrea had once compared her to many months ago.

Astrea could not pretend that she could not see the veiled distrust within her father's eyes as he stared down the Hufflepuff sweetheart, the little corner she had taken up amongst the cultured gentlemen suddenly thick with tension as conversation momentarily paused. "Charmed." The strange twist between a bow and a curtsy only intensified the suspicion no doubt building within her lord father, the awkwardly conducted movement endearing to her eyes and yet a sign of something amiss for many others. A sign of either a poorly trained pureblood for some reason unknown to the genteel world at such an age already or not one at all. Oh, but a dance spent with Willow sounded wonderful.

The pinkette offered an acceptable introduction, one that sounded strange coming from Willow only by the virtue of their past interactions, but she could see the group of gathered people she had been surrounded by appearing increasingly disgruntled at the intrusion. The unprofessional grin of self-approval- as much as it warmed Astrea to see- did not bode well for a first meeting. "I see you are familiar with my heir," Astrea dropped her asking gaze at the testy look she received from her father, a silent signal promising a speaking to back home. She wished to proclaim her agreeance to such a darling plan, but it was not her place. "Miss Anderson." No title given, no title assumed. Astrea herself knew why the surname would sound unusual and why no special address introduced, but her father and his colleagues were out of the loop and no doubt realising what was amiss. A hum of contemplation ran through her Lord as he debated the question, a pondering noise she had picked up herself many years ago.

"Permission granted. Go on." Oh, the joy that washed over her at those simple words! "Thank you, my lord." Offering an appreciative nod her father's way, Astrea swept into a polite curtsy towards his fellowmen- bidding them farewell and thanking them for allowing her into their circle even as the heir of one of their own- before turning to address her new companion.

If the muggleborn nymph were to lead her away- through garden or glen alike- Astrea would gladly follow, ignoring the familiar feeling of stares upon her back and light gossip ringing through her reputation.

Reducio

Interacting with @Katie Palsorette Mentioning everyone at scene

Open to interactions! hair+outfit

Fitzwilliam | Carolyn | Edmund | Lindsey

She shivered a bit when Katie formally called her the long title. Oh Merlin, who’s the one that the other girl had just said? Who’s the Lady Lindsey Florence Evanthe Springhall? She was never acquainted with one…yeah. Lindsey was never used to long titles. Pureblood etiquettes were weird…

“I am from Hogwarts. Second year, Hufflepuff, and the beater of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team.” she announced, proudly. Her houses was always something that Lindsey would love to announce to others — even haughtily, you may say. It was a bonus point to her, and she valued everybody who’s from her own house. She chuckled a bit on that point. Ah, how she wished to be in Gryffindor back in her first year…well, the thought had vanished as soon as she set her feet in the huffle common room. The common room was lovely, and probably the best in all four houses. “What about you, Miss?”

She regretted as soon as the “Miss” was spoken out. Well, she didn’t like, and didn’t use to call others by such titles…maybe that’s why she didn’t like Maximilien that much. He always called her “Mademoiselle Springhall”, as if on purpose. Or “Linds”. That sounded far better than the previous one, and she accepted nicknames, but…

Purebloods go — a — way!

Steadily she raised up her head. Glancing around, and found that no one’s around them to hear, she quickly said to Katie. “Do call me Lindsey. In exchange I would call you Katie — is that okay?” Smiling nervously, she added. “I don’t…I don’t really appreciate titles. You know, calling others by that strange long name made me feel…weird. I’m aware that I’ve got one myself, though — they made me so, and I have to obey when they are around. But if they aren’t…” she made a gesture. “I’d rather let it go and be my own self.”

She finished saying everything, and let out a relived smile. It had been a long time since she wished to express this to others. She didn’t, and never dare to tell this to the Duke. Edmund was the only one to listen and who cared listening. Her parents were simply too busy to listen to her thoughts. The Count and Countess Springhall were busy joining social events with the Duke. They simply didn’t have enough time to be with their kids.

“The Duke Springhall…” her father’s voice started from a corner. Lindsey grasped her hand. Why, why did everyone care about the old snobby man? Why couldn’t they simply spend a nice night here? Why…?

Her eyes fell on her young companion gain. She looked at Katie (oh, hopefully she’s not a blood purist!), and smiled faintly at the girl.

[1][2][3]

Reducio

OOC Note: As a pureblood, you might have heard about/met the Duke David Daniel Darius Springhall of York, who is the current head of the honorable Springhall family. And, although he is already 94 years old, he loves to attend all sorts of upper class balls. You might would like to inquire the Duke’s grandson Count Fitzwilliam Nicholas Bertrand Springhall or his wife Countess Carolyn Heather Isabella Springhall about why the Duke is not present at such a large event. The youngest members of the family, Lord Edmund Lucas Adrian Springhall and Lady Lindsey Florence Evanthe Springhall would love to tell you about the Duke’s absence if you ask them about it as well.

A glimpse of the Springhalls at the ball:
-Fitzwilliam: tall, good shape, dark brown hair, clear blue eyes, in a well made suit, handsome, eye catching.
-Carolyn: medium height, slim, brown hair, black eyes, in a long light blue dress, charming and beautiful.
-Edmund: reaches his mother’s height, athletic built, black hair, clear blue eyes, in a suit, handsome like his father.
-Lindsey: medium height, slim, golden brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, in a dark blue dress, very lovely.

Katie took a deep sigh of relief after hearing Lindsey's distaste of titles. She quickly glanced around to check where her parents were. Caught up in some conversation with other pretentious pure-bloods, but not quote in earshot of Katie and Lindsey. "You can but tell like ANYONE, like primarily not my parents," Katie stayed, taking a deep breath in, But I hate this public nonsense and even though my parents are blood supremacists on top of being pure-bloods, I don't think their views are logical or right and I hate all this nonsense. I also hate this obscenely over the to extravagant ball and I did balls and dances in general to be a nightmate. But you can not tell anyone, least of all, my parents. Katie said, in a hushed whisper, the return rushing out of her lips quicker than she could stop it.

"A first year Slytherin, Lindsey.
" Katie said, answering Lindsey 's question, regretting that she'd have to call the second year Hufflepuff by Miss Springhall whenever any snobbish pure-blood parents were near. Katie simply wasn't strong enough to stand up to her parents or to out herself as what they considered a blood traitor yet. She wished she was stronger, but then again, they were her parents. It wasn't like she had full autonomy over her life yet.

Interacting with @Lindsey Springhall

Open to any and all interactions

The boys elation would be met with a settle raise of thin brows. You've found me? Was I lost? She bit back the creeping urge to retort. If his father hadn't been there, she wouldn't have hesitated to stir up some quick banter. But, seeing that the man was present, she chose to remain silent. She figured it was the proper thing to do; though she couldn't help but give the boy one of those looks. Xailah had in a way, been lost. This was her first time she had (somewhat) willingly been sent somewhere without the supervision of her parents- thats not counting her time at Hogwarts- and she wasn't quite sure what to do. Meadows sudden abandonment didn't help with things either. In short, the Dralts finding the beastling heiress was certainly a good thing. Xailah took in Pericles beaming aura while she could, absorbing the radiance. Though she couldn't absorb as much as she would have liked- as the aura his father carried was much more distracting.

Physical touch had always been something the Metamorph responded to. She was a learning creature, and feeling was her most effective way of obtaining an understanding. But that wasn't to say she particularly liked being touched- because most of the time she didn't. She had been inclined to flinch away, when Pericles reached out. A sudden shift of the fabric from her fur-trimmed sleeves, suggested she had almost done just that- but halted the retreat with the realization that she was being plain ridiculous. There was virtually no reason to act like he was going to bite her. She needed to get over the habit. So, instead of pulling away farther, she opted to reach out too. The peculiar space cadets would make contact. Their connection would be renewed, once cloth met cloth. Pericles would send her a soft squeeze. She would squeeze back in return. Tips of petite digits, were gently pressed into the tender flesh of his shrouded hand, before finally releasing. Hands would slide away. This wasn't a dream or a nightmare- or even something in between. This was real. They were meeting outside of school. It was an incredibly alien, if not surreal feeling.

If she were being honest with herself, the Alptraum heiress had never even imagined that she would see any of her friends in the world outside of Hogwarts- considering her extremely sheltered upbringing, that was to some extent, still being enforced. She hadn't allowed herself to think of such things. However, now she couldn't help but ponder if there were other friends attending the gala too. The rock, Percival, rolled between relaxed fingers; as its present handler watched the man that stood before them with unusual attentiveness. Isaac, was what the man was to be called- that was what Pericles said his friend should call him by anyways. Isn't that a bit informal? Xailah had never been asked to call an adult by their forename. Hearing and doing so, simply felt odd. Half the time she forgot adults even had names other than their last. But if Pericles insisted, then she supposed it was alright. It was just another silly thing to get used to. Isaac it is then.

It would seem that Isaac was a captain of sorts. A captain of what though? Xailah wasn't exactly kept up to date with the occupations of other Pureblood families. In fact she wasn't kept up to date with anything really. If she wanted to know something, she either had to eavesdrop or read about it. She hoped it was boats though. She liked boats- especially the tiny ones. The kind that could fit in bottles. Could one captain a thing so small? She couldn't see why not. She abstain from inquiring for the specifics, of what exactly the man captained. Fearing that if she did so it would make her seem unread- which would in turn, be reflect upon those who were bringing her up. That was undesirable. A settle shift of the odd quality, that buzzed about the captain would be detected. Xailah took a small step back. Not out of fear, but more so out of uncertainty. In that moment she didn't understand the slight change- or why there even was one. The youngling eccentric would catch sight of a peculiar glisten, in the captains pools of silver. One that she ought to have recognized. The twinkle that assailed his steely hues, like a falling star; revealed one small something: Isaac wasn't to be fooled by the metamorphs polite façade. There was no doubt he could see past it. And yet, she still chose to maintain it.

Silence swung like a foreboding pendulum; as old and new oddity alike, tried to determine what to think of the other. The horse hair would break, and the sword would descend. A decision was made. He was nice enough. Isaac. The man would smile- it was a tight-lipped one, but a smile was a smile. They were all the same. The metamorph would reflect his smile; lips parting just a smidge to reveal peeping pearly whites. For a moment, the girl felt like she had been accepted. That moment would quickly be dashed away however, once the elder said that she had been mentioned frequently over the summer. The comment gave rise to a rare sight: the surfacing of a peachy color, in the apples of the childs cheeks. Xailah dipped her head. "Is that so?"

At a loss for words, she sent a funny little glare towards Pericles from the shade of her bonnet. It was one of mixed feelings: discomfort, worry, shame. Not once had she mentioned Pericles- or any of her friends for that matter- to her own family (aside from Meadie). Not because she was embarrassed to do so, but because her family neglected to ask such questions. Did that make her a bad friend? She certainly thought so. Xailah looked back up. Her eyes seemed a bit glossier than they were before. She resumed the smile she had reciprocated from earlier, though it wavered slightly. Isaac and his presence would slink back towards his son. Xailah would ask the two about how their night was going. Pericles would state that it was treating them well. "That is good to hear" The metmorph replied warmly. She eyed the tendrils of steam that wafted from the mug, that the boy had clasped between gloved hands.

The boy would go on to fill her in on what he and his father had done- conversed with the hostess, people watched. You know- things that proper purebloods do. He would then inquire about the location of the metamorphs family. It caught the changeling off-guard. That was the one question Xailah had hoped wouldn't be asked. She feared that explaining that her family was not present, would only make them look bad. She didn't want to paint them as irresponsible individuals. Now, there were a few ways of going about answering the inquiry. She could respond simply, with a yes or a no- if she responded with the former, Pericles was most likely going to want to meet them. Which was a problem since her family- family meaning parents- were not at the gathering. She could also lie, and say yes- and then go on to find the most intoxicated person at the bar to play the part of the temporary parent. That lady from before, with all the wine glasses, looked like a good candidate. But Xailah eventually concluded that route would give rise to more problems than it would solutions. Maybe it was better to tell the truth? "They are not. Well. My parents are not. They had prior engagements to attend." That wasn't so hard. "My sssister is here with me. I seem to have lost her though." She chanced a sheepish glare towards the distant gathering of guests. "Have you two seen her, by chance? She is most probably carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres, and she's about yea high,-" She held a hand near her chin, for emphasis of how tall her sibling was. The next addition to the incredibly poor description, had been reluctantly forced out: "And she's wearing a bonnet, like... m-mine."

| @Xailah Alptraum |
{Outfits - Art & References}

The heir adored his family, though he had been inadvertently sheltered. Now he had his father, and a friend, all in one place. What was more, they seemed to be smiling at one another. Pericles would have paid to prolong that moment, though he was too excited to know what to do with it really, so he simply tried to prevent his grin from growing too expressive. Emotions weren't popular at pureblood parties, unless of course they involved some degree of contempt or haughtiness. But then the little lioness was ducking her head and turning a fantastic shade, with cheeks sharing the pink of a conch's interior wall. Xailah used the veiling shade of her bonnet to fire off an odd look at him, one which Pericles met with an innocent expression that may or may not have been genuine. He promptly preoccupied himself with a deep drink from the mug. It was becoming easier to bear with every sip, and it helped that the coffee contained plenty of milk to lessen its acidity, sugar to detract from the bitterness. An aficionado would have appreciated its quality, but the twelve-year-old boy was simply trying to survive the experience. There were already onset signs of subtle twitchiness, dilating pupils, over-attentiveness....

Isaac hadn't bothered to confirm nor deny the informality his son suggested. Hooded gaze gliding from the top of Xailah's bonnet to the bottom of Pericles' raised mug, Isaac proved much more efficient at concealing his amusement. "All good things," he balmed at a resonant, reassuring hum. The words sounded simple, though the use of "good" was complex. Good was subjective. It covered a great number of adjectives he might have ascribed to his son's accounts, such as entertaining, curious, questionable, intriguing, and plainly downplayed.

Xailah's blunt honesty was a trait which Isaac appeared to take favorably, though the truth of the matter did not set well with him at all. Joy had hummed just under the surface of Pericles' calm presentation, while upward curls lingered at the corner of the elder Dralt's wide mouth, but both were quickly dimming down. Delicate concern was blooming across the son's countenance, sympathetic, soft. The father's, steeply contrasting once again, became strategically steely to hide his thoughts. It was as if the contented warmth he had radiated now lay behind a wall of cold metal. Their thoughts however were not so far apart. Xailah was a child, thus immune to blame; it was wrong of her parents to place absolute responsibility upon her, leaving them unattended like this. The gala was no place for a lone child. It was a warzone, a battlefield for the armies of social graces. There was espionage in the shape of false smiles, forced pleasantries, words whispered behind gloved hands. Petty sabotage was present in "accidental" drink spills, or a cane "coincidentally" stuck out at just the angle to trip a passing boot. The grunts stormed the field with nitpicking one another's outfits, trying to ruin said outfits, or vying over who could complain the loudest about not wanting to be there. They shared a look. Isaac recognized the tiniest frown and steady stare as worry, while Peri saw the guarded look as a means to hide concern. "I see," the lord murmured. "That will not do."

Reluctant as the captain had been to let his little lone soldier brave the field without him, he recognized that Pericles had survived a school year already, and had supposedly done so with the help of his friends. He could relinquish his charge, at least for a short while, now that they had one another. "I will begin by surveying the ballroom from the second floor." He lapsed effortlessly into preparation, which Pericles seemed to synchronize with automatically, listening with care. "Assuming I see no signs of a wandering bonnet, I shall inquire with the attendants." Butlers were often overlooked as servants, yet they were underappreciated masterminds to any functioning event, working like a colony of bees through efficiency and communication. They may have seen something. Lord Dralt wasn't afraid to be spotted peeking under tablecloths either, should the situation call for it, and the likelihood of someone stopping him were slim. Pericles chimed in an intention with almost rehearsed readiness. "We will double back to the foyer then, and carry on to the gardens if we haven't any luck. I think there was a room near the entrance intended to occupy younger guests as well." "It is worth a glance," Isaac approved lowly. Then he turned to Xailah again, and that heavy drawbridge was raised once more, lessening the weight of his voice by resuming a cordial drawl. "From what I have been told, you are a witch of keen intuition. I suspect it would be wise to expect the same from your sister, and that she may be appropriately leery of an unfamiliar adult." This was a vastly roundabout way of admitting that he typically terrified small children, a trait which was regrettably present even prior to the vampirism. "Is there anything I might say to prove myself an ally, should I find her? What is her name?" "Meadow," Pericles interjected almost as soon as it was asked, flashing Xailah a smile which said Look, I remembered!, tapping the side of his mug out of subliminally mounting caffeination.

Strategizing with father to find Xailah's lost little sister. Temporarily parting ways with him.

Open to interactions
Mentioning: Iris Fields _{@Katrina Walker}
Interacting: @Katherine Labrouder | Silvia Ventress _{@Jess Malters}

Action: Talking with Kath, ignoring/insulting Silvia, not showing his worry about his brother+father

For Mods: Stats: Stamina: 6| Evasion: 5| Strength: 10| Wisdom: 4| Arcpower: 5| Accuracy: 10| Total: 40
Abilities: Evasion Maneuver, Lovely Creature

_{Charles ~ Russian|French|Spanish|German|English|
Norwegian
Andrew ~ English|Russian}

Charles couldn't help but agree with more Katherine as he crossed his arms and stood with pride like he was taught but behind Katherine giving the impression that he was merely her henchmen or goonie except both seem to have a liger of some sort of unsettling presence wafting off the duo as Charles spoke in smooth english, " I couldn't agree more Kath," unfortunately the American seemed eager to get on someone wrong side that night and Charles was losing his patience with the girl and a part of him sensed that Katherine was to as he smiled a wicked signature half smile before speaking.

"The wind sounds particularly idiotic today, don't you agree Kath?" Charles spoke in his English accent with a half smile and slight nod toward Katherine to let her aware of his plan before continuing " perhaps on the other side, the wind isn't as stubborn and annoying."

Holding out his arm toward Katherine before speaking " shall we," the thirteen year old would then brush past the American girl and walk across the ballroom till eyeing the girl once they left and letting out a half smirk as his eyes fell on Katherine.

"That was something, the final piece would be if the American goes running to her parents," Charles spoke with a smirk before smiling again as he lightly crossed his arms before replying " I wouldn't fall through on a bet with you Kath, I know better. So what do you have planned for me then?"

Upon hearing her words, Charles would hide the fear and worry within as his eyes glanced over his older brother standing prideful next to his father who was constantly whispering with his grandfather while somehow still being able to greet other pureblood's. Charles's eyes then landed on his grandmother and mother whom stood near to the males in his family but seem to be eyeing the rest of the people at the gala.

Glancing back toward Katherine, with a smile before speaking " to my father I will always be nothing but if for a moment you could change that Kath, now this I got to see," thinking about how his cruel and vile grandfather won't be fooled with whatever they have in mind but he wasn't bothered since making a mockery of his older brother was wroth it no matter what.

" Andrew is overall a 16 year old prideful Dumstrang who takes any and every opportunity to brag or show off. He's beyond prideful and enjoys letting others know what family he's from and that he will be the next head soon. Also he's popular and quite a bully at Dumstrang but not that smart although always earns top marks in the lessons at home," Charles spoke to Katherine before rolling his eyes a bit as he continued with a smirk " he will do anything to make are grandfather and father proud. He can be a idiot at times involving his pride, looks, muscles, or family name," with a smirk toward Katherine before speaking " so what did the devil have in mind?"

All good things. Normally a comment such as that, would have brought ease to a child struggling with uncertainty of any sort. In this case, it only made things a wee bit worse. What Pericles had told his father, hadn't yet made the trek across her brain- until now of course. She was still caught up on the fact that she had said nothing about the boy to those of her own familial ties. The rosy hue residing in her cheeks only deepened, as did the look that had been placed upon the young, Dralt heir. She was seemingly unamused by his returned innocent expression, almost looking as if she was trying to burn holes into the lads head. The leering gaze would- with a moments time- soften, returning to its previous state of discomfort. It would depart altogether when Pericles went back to nursing on the mystery liquid inside his mug. What sort of things could he have possibly told his father? The metamorphs good qualities were in few- at least from her perspective- and rarely were they ever put on display. What were the Dralts defining as good?

Xailah was quick to shake off any conflicting emotions that visibly lingered, as to not reveal too much about her distress over one silly word. For all she knew the elder could probably read her mind, if she let her little shield fall far enough. Probably- he certainly looked like the type. This encounter began to remind the girl, of the time she went to visit Meenauh. Xailah swore Meenauhs parents- or her mother at the very least- could see right into the childs cluttered thoughts. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Xailah desperately wanted to impress, so paranoia was the likely answer. Xailah had explained why her parents were absent at tonight's gathering. Prior engagements, that sort of thing. She hadn't anticipated- well she had, but she didn't dwell too much on it then- the reaction from the man. She thought she caught a hint of something in the mans voice- disappointment, she was sure it was that. It was the most feared thing amongst children, as well as something they could often identify. The cub quietly panicked, contemplating an attempt at recovery- she picked around at some of the words drifting about, trying to gather the right ones. It was the mental equivalent to a child desperately trying to stop their snowman from turning into mush, when the sun came out. In the end, it was just a cold, puddly, mess. Her snowman was the lord Dralt. He was melting, and there was likely nothing she could say that would make him stop. Though maybe, just maybe, it was a good thing she hadn't tried to save the mans smile.

Through her panic, the young Alptraum would bear witness to something that she found utterly fascinating. Perhaps being sent to the gala on her own, and her sister running off, wasn't an entirely horrible thing at all. If none of it happened, she probably would have never seen this strange bond between father and son, and their metaphorical game of catch. The lord wasted no time in organizing a way to search for the lost sibling, promptly presenting how he was going to handle the situation. There was no offering. No questions- in fact his assertiveness was rather welcomed. There was no doubt about it. That man certainly used to be an Auror. And then the boy Pericles jumped in without hesitation. The albinos bounced ideas to each other, in flawless synchronization, like a pair of well-kept machines. If meeting them for the first time, one could only assume that it was all part of a theatre act. It nearly looked rehearsed. Was this a normal thing for fathers and their sons to do? Xailah had never really seen people work together like the captain and his first mate did. The sight must have been a rare one, and she was feeling lucky to have seen it. Even if it came with the sacrifice of her sisters presence- or lack thereof.

But all wonder aside, she wasn't exactly keen on allowing the Dralts to go on a search. They certainly didn't come to the gala for the sole purpose of finding a missing child- and Xailah didn't want the rest of their night to be ruined, thanks to her lack of responsibility. Oh thats really not necessary- she wanted to say. I'll just continue to wait. What sort of person would Issac think her of, if she refused his help? "Sssir, I mean- Isaac." Still didn't feel right calling the man by his birthname. She grimaced slightly, as if saying his name, had left a bitter taste on her tongue. "You don't have to look for her." She stated plainly. "She was my responsibility." The girl swayed to one side, indecisively. She weighed refusal and acceptance, sieving for a solution. "But I sssuppose six eyes are better than two-" She said at last. "Or three heads are..." How did that saying go again? Didn't matter. Isaacs voice would change a hint, adopting something a bit warmer, like it had before the explanations. Then something about intuition would been mention; thin brows drifted up, and then down. Xailah didn't quite catch what the man was subtly trying to get at.

Little Meadow was a people person- that was the scary thing about her. More so the fact that she often attempted to engage in interactions with strangers. Even the scary ones. That wasn't to say that she didn't share the same intuitive mind as her older sister- Meadow simply was one of those children who acted first, and figured out the consequences at a later time. She had not yet experienced how cruel human beings could be. She was oblivious to their nature- or chose to be, at the very least. It was very possible that she understood much more, than she let on. Xailah abstained from sharing this recollected bit of information, and nodded awkwardly instead. Stating that the child who was presently missing, was prone to wandering up to strangers, was always a surefire way to scare any parent. Besides, the chances of the absent girl finding someone to fraternize with, were low at the moment. Meadow was in a new place, she was guaranteed to be m0re interested in her surroundings- and the snacks- than the people, as any child her age would be.

Issac asked for a name, to which Pericles immediately responded. Meadow. Xailah bobbed her head in confirmation, and slight surprise. He remembered- she was surprised. Xailah supposed Meadow wasn't exactly a easy name to forget, even if it was mentioned in passing. She glanced at the boy, only this time the look was not an embarrassed or a haughty one. Gold hues followed gloved fingers, that tapped the side of the mystery mug. Tap-tap-tap. Strange. Pericles wasn't usually the fidgety sort. Tap. Xailah found the drumming incredibly distracting, and had almost missed Isaacs other question as a result. "Oh-" She said distantly, as she recollected her focus on the issue at hand. Truthfully, Isaac could probably say anything to Meadow, and she would see him as a friend- or ally. Yet again Xailah chose to not share that.

She would roll something around in her hands, as if they had remembered something. That stupid rock. "This is Percival." A outstretched limb offered a small, polished, stone to the man. "I'm sure she'll be more inclined to trust you, if you give him back to her. She's become rather attached to him..." The rock needed an explanation didn't it? The metamorph supposed so. "Mother sssaid that if Meadow could keep him without losing him, then she would let her get another pet." Meadow had a track record for losing things. Especially things with little legs. Sometimes she couldn't be bothered to close the hatch on the Pygmy Puff pen. One might have thought that a doll or maybe even a stuffed animal, would have been better to carry around- and at the beginning, it was. But then Meadow discovered that rocks were a thing, and that they were far more interesting than Raggedy Ann. It was all just a phase really. She was eleven-and-a-half. What more could anyone expect? "Thank you for doing this, Isaac. Should we come find you later?" Xailah asked. Unsure of what to do with herself, she would bow her head at the mans eventual departure. Finally, she would turn to Pericles. She had been so caught up in meeting his father, that she almost felt as if she had been neglecting the boy. "To the foyer then?" She would ask, choosing to be blissfully oblivious to his sudden twitchiness. If Pericles chose to lead the way back to the foyer, Xailah would follow.

| @Xailah Alptraum |
{Outfits - Art & References}

The Dralts watched while Xailah navigated the uncertain meanderings of whether or not to accept their help, the informality of the patriarch's first name - an assurance from his son which he neither refuted nor accepted aloud- before gradually coming to terms with the fact that they seemed set on this course of action. Pericles continued to buzz and sip (and ignore the daggers Xailah's eyes were trying to drive into him). Isaac spoke instead. "True though it may be that Meadow is your charge, you are our ally. It would be an act of active negligence to not extend our aid." Focus shifted to his heir as he added, "The qualms of our friends are, after all, our troubles in turn." Pericles was stock still. The twitchiness ceased, if only for the span of a heartbeat, during which he seemed to acknowledge his father with nothing more than a motionless stare. He didn't dare nod, lest he allow any implication to reach the metamorph. Isaac had navigated his son's social preparations with as much delicateness as he could muster. It was plain that the boy was not exceedingly outgoing, but when approached, he gave his kindness freely. More friends meant more problems. He had yet to endure any measure of exploitation, heartbreak, or bitter betrayal. He had no experience, and in turn very little scruples. Try as Isaac may to build his boy's guard, it was plain he had taken quickly to this fellow eclectic. The patriarch approved in this particular instance, though decided it vital to remind Pericles of the responsibility that came with sustaining such a bond, the level of loyalty owed. Helping find a lost little girl was only the right thing to do, but also a matter of honor. What grade of men would they be not to naturally take on the task?

Unnatural, inhumanly long fingers, like the reaching branches of a bare tree, stretched to carefully collect the cherished rock. As with every action, this simple motion was marked with care, constant restraint, mindful to not so much as graze gloves. It was explained that this stone was assigned with a purpose, though it sounded as if the requirements for reward had already been broken. Isaac's lidded gaze glowed with amused understanding as he considered Percival. "What a sorry loss that would be," he murmured in a wondering way, "to be entrusted with such a responsibility, and at such stakes. Ah, well.... I wouldn't endorse a daughter omitting information from her family, but as they aren't present, I should see no reason to tell them myself." About Meadow losing Percival, or Xailah losing Meadow? His crooked smile, with the meaningful look worn when he peered up again, supplied that he may have meant one or the other. Though the expression could be described as wolfish, it was intended entirely as a subtle swear to secrecy. I won't tell if you don't.

Percival was kept close in a palm. The empty hand reached to touch an epaulette, a glance between father and son astride the border between firmness and fondness, an unspoken well-wishing. Xailah asked if they should seek him out, to which Isaac answered at a reassuring drawl, "I will find you." It was nonchalant, albeit uttered with an edge of inevitability. He was completely confident in his power to track three children at a ball. In fact, the man had an arsenal of abilities at his disposal that rendered him ideal for such a task. If his undead Aura wasn't enough to keep the socialites at bay, the bravest among them would eventually be driven off when he started to describe the varied buoyancies offered by certain vessel woods, or began to rapturously extol the virtues of his wife. "Safe searching, father." "Safe searching Pericles, Miss Alptraum." And he was gone, a lanky shape of black and gold ghosting its way through the crowd.

Peri watched the feathered tricorn disappear into the distance, an abruptly bright beam springing into place as Xailah invited him to the foyer. "Let's," he agreed, sounding oddly eager. His heart was fluttering in his chest, pupils dilating, an uncomfortable but ignorable cramp starting in his stomach. A great many thoughts often flitted behind that sleepy mien of his. In a regular state, he was able to present them in an orderly fashion, but Pericles was far from regular as caffeine bolted its way through his system. Who had emptied his cup? Ah! He'd drank it all. "I'll be glad to meet a member of your family," the Ravenclaw began cheerfully, setting the mug onto a passing tray of dirtied drinkware. He was walking away then, quickly, and with any luck Xailah managed to follow along. "And on the topic of family, you would not believe what I've discovered." She had little time to wonder, and in fact, no time at all to ask before he was blurting the answer.

"Would you believe that I discovered I have a relation at Hogwarts? Opeila Winters! She's a Slytherin if memory serves correctly. She's meant to meet us tomorrow, so we're headed home soon as the New Year arrives. We've got to hurry home, we have a long journey back- we flew here. Father said it would be an excellent opportunity to practice, which was true of course, and frankly fantastic. The distance from Plymouth to London is one-hundred and ninety-two miles as the crow flies. I've improved since the Blossom Ball. I will have to show you. And speaking of flying, have you seen the swans? How beautiful are they! We once enchanted coat hangers to relieve guests of their outerwear, nothing nearly as extravagant as that. Mother had to disenchant them when one tried to relieve a lady of her wig." He snorted. His dilated pupils darted to Xailah. "Do you think they'll have more drinks in the foyer? Should we get another before we go? I think I could have another. It wasn't as terrible at the end."

Lord Dralt, carrying a pet rock, moves to higher ground.
Pericles has his first caffeine high. Moving to the Grand Foyer.

The metamorph watched as the phantom of a man snaked, and slithered through the crowd like a shadow. Gentlemen in their tails, and ladies in their gowns parted, allowing involuntary passage. It was always an interesting thing to see- how one with a foreboding aura affected those in passing. Both children would watch, until the man was completely out of view. Isaac had departed; but the few and final words before his leave, would make the decision to hang around for a little while longer. Xailah thumbed over them while they set up camp inside her head. She reflected over each with uncertainty. She puppeted the possibility of understanding and acceptance about. The man said that she was an ally, but she wasn't fully sold on the idea. When the elder vampire addressed the misfortune that had befallen the young heiress and absent sibling, inklings of understanding began to pool in the recesses of the younglings brain. Xailah knew what the lords bent grin meant- she was certain that there was some sort of mutual understanding- that so long as both maintained silence, a secret could be kept. For a moment, the child found relief in the patriarchs words. For a second, she thought she found a place where she belonged.

But then something made her panic- made her dash the warm notions against a fleshy grey partition. The trigger would be unknown. Damn her flighty tendencies. For distraction, focus was averted back to the present. A proposition would be made and accepted. Possibilities of adventure lay waiting in the foyer. Along with the opportunity to snoop- and of course, the chance of finding Xailahs gremlin of a sibling. Which was the main reason as to why the two heirs were heading that direction. They hadn't forgotten about their objective. Yet. The two set off normally enough. The boy expressed some sort of cheerfulness at the possibility of meeting one of the changelings family members, to which the girl hummed- more like grumbled. She hadn't been too keen on him meeting her kin. But, if there was one person she preferred him to meet, it was Meadow. Seeking to guide conversation away from the topic of her family, Xailah would make a comment about the ravens father. "So thats your father." She said quietly, ending the statement with a thoughtful hum. "I always thought he was a bit taller..."

An odd peppiness accompanied Pericles as he swiftly advanced towards the exit. Xailah mistook his speed as a sign of purpose- that Pericles wanted to get things done. A little man with a mission. Those sorts always moved with haste. It was a reasonable thing to think at that moment in time. Xailah strode after him, a sheathed hand held the hem of her dress off of the floor, so that she might meet his pace without the risk of tripping. As they speedwalked; the young Dralt would hand off his mug- which likely had not a drip of drink left to spare. The ceramic pint pot clinked with the silver tray. That was the last anyone would see of that mug. With Pericles coffee supply drained dry, there was no doubt that he would be on the prowl for more- which would be confirmed at a later time. A person could never have just one cup. The lads pace wasn't the only thing that appeared faster, but his speech- and thoughts- rolled along at a much quicker speed. So quick in fact, Xailah was starting to have a hard time in keeping up with what he was trying to reveal. Family was going to be a common topic for the night. Pericles would make certain of that. When he spoke of discovery and something unbelievable, Xailah turned to him, a remark already prepared.

"Tr-" Try me. It was the natural response- that required little thought to muster- when unbelievable things were presented in conversation. The Alptraum would never get to squeeze her 'Try me' in. By the time she started forming the words required, the boy was already telling her about this completely unbelievable thing that he only recently discovered. Xailah thought that he would take a second to allow discussion on the topic. Aha. She was wrong. Very wrong. Pericles would not stop talking. Once the microphone was in his grasp, he took that thing and he ran with it. And by the looks of things, he wouldn't be handing it back anytime soon. The lioness quickly found herself being pelted with a number of things that she could not make sense of. She tried- she really did- to understand what the boy was saying, but the speed at which he was conversing, was nearly inhuman. Good god. Did he even pause to take a breath? Xailah watched with rounded eyes, as the boy machinegunned words at her. If there was one certain way to scare a steely introvert off... this was it.

"I-" She simply wasn't getting it. The kid wasn't going to let her get a word in, and yet she was still trying to snake her way through. What was wrong with her boy? Pericles was normally such a polite, well mannered child. He liked to talk, sure, but he never tried saying too much at one time. Was this just how he was outside of school? Xailah raised a curved hand to her brow. After what seemed like forever, Pericles would finally take some sort of a breath, signifying a pause. There were a lot of things Xailah was thinking of saying, most of which were snark; but she settled for a more honest, and less passive-aggressive response to the word vomit. But first, a reaction. Her brows rose into two dark arches, followed by a slight bob of the head. She then issued a series of short blinks, in what looked to be mild surprise*. "I don't think I quite caught all of that." She admitted. "Can you go repeat it one more time? Just a tad slower." She pinched her thumb and forefinger together, as if holding something very small.

"Tell me everything as if-" Ugh, why bother to try and have a normal conversation now? Pericles evidently wasn't done with everything he had to say; as he was now expressing a want, to obtain more drinks. He looked to the metamorph with pupils the size of little black dimes. The metamorph squinted, confusion etched itself cleanly across her face. "Ah- no, I think you've had enough to drink for a few minutes." And possibly enough for the remainder of his life. Short life, if he didn't put a cork in it soon. Not usually the grabby sort; Xailah stretched an arm, and tried to snake her fingers around the cuffs of her friends shirt- assuming he was in reasonable grabbing distance- to coax him away from the possible temptation, known as the bar. "I'm sssure the foyer will have caterers." Judging by the amount of staff waiting in the ballroom alone, it was probably safe to say that there was someone in the foyer ready to provide beverages. "What did you have to drink anyways? You're acting very... Hm. Strange."