Event Blossom Ball - Underworld

Winnie had never attended a real Hogwart's event before, but after all the mysterious invitations for this year's Blossom Ball, and hearing rumors about the previous one, she decided she just could not skip out on this one. A lot of the girls in her year had been talking about dates, and how no one in their right mind would be seen without one. Winnie did not have a date, nor did she care. She was 'going stag', as it were, and planned to make new friends while attending the event.

Besides, her new friend, and personal hero, Ruka Burnett-Tân had informed her he would attend, and she wanted to be there for moral support. Plus, if anything bad happened, she could try to help him! ...Even if she was practically worthless when it came to casting magic. Hm.

The ball was apparently Greek themed, and Winnie had decided to emulate her favourite goddess, Persephone. Her pale purple dress was almost grey in colour, the first five inches of the neckline's fabric was made from a sheer mesh, giving the illusion of a bateau neckline instead. The silhouette of the gown flared out at her waist, a shorter, sheer layer draped over top the yards of shimmery fabric that made up the skirt of her ballgown. Perhaps the most interesting part of her gown was the pink hand embroidered cherry blossoms that decorated the train and edges of her dress, as well as the neckline. Her silky copper hair was pinned back into soft curls, with pink cherry blossom pins holding the tresses up. Underneath her gown, she wore simple lavender coloured flats; she wasn't about to wear heels when her dress completely covered her feet. Her clutch hid her wand and was also lavender in colour, with pink flowers embroidered over the fabric.

She noticed, with a bit of dread, that she was one of the first students to arrive, or perhaps they simply didn't want to stay in the underworld part of the event. Winnie was drawn in by that mysterious blue fire, however, and was soon lost in it, gazing as the flame seemed to dance.

Action: Entering the Room (Underworld)
Stats: Stamina: 6 | Evasion: 5 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 7 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 5

English = 5D4A64 | Russian = 4E7A27

Closed to interactions right now because I’m going to do the trials

Irina was thrilled to say the least. Today was the day of the Blossom Ball. This was the entire reason she got to go to Hogwarts in the first place and she was not going to miss out. She had seen all of the invitations and noticed that this was bound to be a mysterious party. The invitations enough could scare someone but Irina was not off put one bit, if anything she was much more excited to attend.

Her outfit was a little last minute when packing for the trip but she was happy with what she had put together. She had a strapless floor length dress on that faded from dark blue to white. It had a bunch of gold art on it and it reminded Irina of a modern Ancient Greece. She also had short beige heels on and her hair had been done up by one of her Koldovstoretz comrades.

Irina was always taught that it was better to be early then late and due to her being super excited to go, she winded up leaving the campground as soon as she was fully ready. As she arrived at the courtyard she sensed that there was a more somber tone about it, the music seemed quite bland for a party but Irina noticed light coming in from another section. She assumed that there must be two parts to the ball, the dim entrance that would scare people out and the energetic party space that was meant for fun.

Not surprised, Irina happened to be one of the first people there and realized that she had a tendency to do this. She had done it with the dinner and now again with the ball. Since not many were there yet she found herself intrigued in what was called the hero trials. Irina wanted to be the queen of the ball and was always up for a bit of adventure. If she could get these done before many people came then she would still be able to have a good time and hopefully get the crown. ”Ok! Here we go!” She muttered to herself in English and headed towards the trials.

For Moderation:

Reducio

Action: Doing the Trials
Stats: STA: 8 | EVA: 8 | STR: 7 | WIS: 9 | ARCP: 6 | ACC: 7
Heath points: 800/800
Abilities: Sixth Sense, Fearless, and Calming Presence
Effect: +2 to their awareness rolls. If a player attempts to enter a thread that you are already in, there is a 25% chance that you automatically detect them on entry.
Effect: Fear effects such as a dhmpir's aura, the ability terrible presence, a lycanothrope's intimidation or certain charms, potions and jinxes that would normally cause a fear effect do not work on you as you are immune to them.
Effect: An aura of calm. Allies (defined at the START of an instance regardless of later betrayal) gain a 10% chance to auto-hit their chosen target. This does not stack.

Post tracker: [1] [O] [H] [H] [P] [H] [A] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

"You look... nice?" The inflection of a question at the end of the statement, the declaration ended with a sigh. "Too nice really," he added as he adjusted his collar. Unlike most of the party-goers, Vladimir was not dressed to theme. A pair of black pants and a black T-shirt, a bit of darkness creeping down his arm that looked like a varicose vein. "You should take it off," he added dismissively adding quickly thereafter "not here." His hand shielding his periphery as he turned away. The Ravenclaw was in a foul mood on this day.

For those that knew Marion and Vladimir, they were inseparable it would seem since late their first year. It was always the three of them -- Vladimir, Marion and of course the late Victor Moore. Today marked an anniversary of sorts, the day that Victor died. Indeed, he was killed months later in a hole beneath the ground, slain by the very darkness he had tried to control, but today marked the terrible day his decline began. His nightmare began years earlier, as had Marion and Vladimir's, but the spiral for Victor was faster than it otherwise would have been. Despite everything that had happened, he still missed his friend and today was a bitter reminder of the tragedy that led to his premature end as well as the guilt he carried like an albatross from his heart.

He knew that they would be targeted and he encouraged it. It was a selfish want, to keep hold of those he held dear out of fear that they would slip away. They they were slipping away, like Marion was now. "Is he going to be meeting you at the dance or picking you up someplace?" He asked after a few minutes of silence. There was a time not terribly long ago that he had held out hope that they would be together. It was a shallow, juvenile ambition -- she was pretty and nice, that was all the pre-teen could see at the time. Realistically it never would have worked for a number of reasons, the first being that her blood was wrong, the second being the interest was one-sided. She liked Victor for whatever reason, Marion being the one and only thing he had ever truly lost. Not that he deserved her, he was as interested in her as he was in every other girl in the school. He thrust his hand into his pocket and made a tight fist that was out of sight.

Indeed, his sentiments were complicated.

Marion had gotten herself a date, some Slytherin she had neglected to name. They had grown close in the common room of their shared house so Vladimir had not yet had the opportunity to put a face to a name or even a name to a name. "What's this bloke's name anyways?"

Interacting| -
Mentioning| @Vladimir Athanatos | @Thomas Lestrange
Attire - Medusa
Action| Entering the Ball.
Open to interactions

Santario Martin was dressed as no God or Goddess for this blossom ball. In fact, all she heard about since it was announced was which one people would dress as. Yet, not everyone could be a God or a Goddess, so as Santario entered the Underworld, her attire represented the cursed gorgon. Medusa. Gods were fickle indeed, or perhaps in Medusa’s case, a Goddess. Fitting, perhaps, since she once again lacked an escort.

Draped in ivory silks trimmed in gold, she entered the hushed atmosphere, and while to others it might seem so very wrong, somehow to her it seemed very fitting. She reached up, adjusting one of the little gold snakes that she had wound through her raven locks, and made sure the thick circlet was centered on her forehead. It was strange wearing so much jewelry and makeup it seemed like she had put in so much effort to make the scales on her face, arms, and chest perfect only to have to constantly remind herself that she could not touch herself for fear of messing it all up.

Deep breathes, she reminded herself as she ultimately entered the room. Her eyes landed immediately on a familiar face, one that had somehow been dodging her, possibly without realizing it, all year. Vladimir. She had wanted to find a way to converse with him since last summer; she was sure he had answers to questions that burned through her like a hot coal. Though it always seemed like every time she might have had the chance to try and find the elusive Ravenclaw, something required her attention. Whether it be Thomas and his ongoing problem that she wanted to solve, duelling, or just studies in general, something got in the way. But Thomas was not here, not yet anyway, and she was sure he would be preoccupied with a pretty face with his own hidden agenda, duelling was done for the year, and piles of homework would not dare show their papery faces. Perhaps, that would change tonight, but approaching him would take strategy. She knew how he felt about them.

Her eyes drifted away from the older boy, having lingered on him too long already, she would have time unless, of course, someone set him on fire. She needed to get her bearings of this room first… No, not room, world. The organizers had done a stunning job of making this into a perceived Underworld. The thing that most caught her attention was the corner that seemed like endless nothing, save for a little blue flame.

Marion Davenport

Mentions: Alexander Varellion, Victor Moore

Interacts with: Vladimir Athanatos

Action Entering the ball.

He had been glum the week preceding the ball, that was to be expected considering well... the circumstances. There were problems well before the dance last year, Vladimir's controlling nature being one of them. Another being the dark curse that they both shared since their first year. Yet neither left them crippled, even if the later promised an early death for the both of them if a curse was not discovered. Vladimir had given her and Vic a little more time, but there was an uneasy part of her that felt as if his sacrifice would be for nothing in the end. They were no closer to a cure, despite their research and their deals. Now that Vladimir's father was involved, she felt even more confined than ever before. She felt as if she was being watched, followed, studied. She did not like the feeling, moreover the old man unsettled her even more than Athanatos' weird cousins. She hoped neither of them would be at the ball but she was doubtful such fortunate awaited her.

"You look... nice?"

Of course she did. Beauty was hardly natural, for those that claimed it was they were liars. "This old thing?" She laughed, and Marion was a practiced liar. She spun around, letting the air lift the delicate layers of her gown as she twirled, leaving a graceful, feminine silhouette. "I just pulled it--"

"Too nice really."

Her cheeks flushed a bit when he said that. She had found Vladimir to be 'inaccessible' for a number of reasons despite the fact that they spent much of their waking time together. He was distant, never vulnerable and there was a condescending nature that appeared to be genetic. Indeed, it was a situation where he was better to look at than love at least in the romantic sense but she loved him as a friend. Yet there was this misplaced idle want for something more, it came with spending so much time together and sharing the experiences that they had. The fact that she depended on him as much as she did and the fact that he was loyal to a fault.

"You should take it off."

Her face immediately dropped, he was in one of those moods again. The smile turned to a glower and the spinning came to a stop as he turned away.

"Not here."

"OHmaigawd, you jerk!" Marion shouted at him. She was feeling pretty and he just had to find a way to knock her down a few pegs. She would have took off her show to chuck it at him, but they made her feel tall and more importantly, she was not entirely sure she would get them back. She had a boy to impress. Yes, she was trying to impress Alex. She had worked for months to gain and to maintain his attention for purposes that she had not yet divulged. Contrary to Vladimir's belief that he was superior to her in every conceivable way, she was able to make considerations of her own.

"You would love it if I did," she huffed with frustration. A bit of a prod of her own, she was aware that Vladimir liked her. Liked in the past tense. After all, that was how they had met. She was pretty and his eye, as well as Victor's were both on her. She knew it and she was not a perfect little girl, she strung the wizard-born and pureblood along. She knew she smelled nice and that her hair and face were nicely done in the classes that they shared. They saw the best sides of her and in their folly believed them to be the only sides there were. She enjoyed the courtship attempts, the competition - it was flattering and it only served to bolster her young ego. In the end however, she as interested in neither. She just wanted to be wanted, she enjoyed being seen.

She accepted Victor's date in the forest because she could. Because she wanted to see how he might woo her. Because she wanted to see Vladimir's reaction. Because at heart, she was cruel. She still was in fact ...for reasons.

"Is he going to be meeting you at the dance or picking you up someplace?"

Yes, him. Her mystery paramour. She had been dropping hints, enough to perplex the studious Ravenclaw but not enough for him to actually know. She wanted to see his reaction, feel the heat of his ire. Yes, she both resented and loved Vladimir. Their relationship was rather complicated.

She moved quickly in those heels, she almost matched Vladimir's height in fact. Almost. She did not want to be late for the ball, she had spent the whole day getting ready with Vlad rather than the girls from her dorm. He spent the day reading, being the dullard he normally was less the occasional glance in her direction. The rare word uttered as he flipped the pages. He had his wand on his person, also a knife and a key. He blood let them both hours ago, the venipuncture sites sealed over as to not deflect from her perfect façade.

"Is he going to be meeting you at the dance or picking you up someplace?"

She presumed the ball, but Alexander might be waiting for her in their common room. If he was, he would figure it out rather quickly she had concluded. She had not been in the common room all day, she was not in her dorm either, a truth her dormmates could vouch for. She had left with a case of make-up the size of a fishing tacklebox as well as shoes and a gown before the breakfast meal and had not been seen since. She spent the day in the library with Vlad in full view of the school curling her hair and applying mascara.

"Not really sure, we should have probably worked that out," Marion admitted, shrinking a bit on the inside. She lacked the inherent cleverness of the bird but she often made up for it (mostly) with her cunning. She was placed in House Slytherin for a reason.

"What's this bloke's name anyways?"

As if he was going to help her look and find him. Saving her yet again from her own stupidity. Wouldn't he like to know--

He would lose it if he knew and this was as good of a place as any. The edges of her painted lips tugged as a cruel intention escaped her mouth, "Alexander Varellion."

He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he she said that name. "Like Tartarus you are," he snapped as he grabbed her arm. His grip harder and stronger than intended, but there was no thought in the action. "We are not going," he added. There was no attempting to convince her, she was nothing but a stupid girl was terrible ideas that filled her pretty head, this being the worst of them all. With a tug powerful enough to knock most off their feet, he would turn around with Marion potentially in tow.

He did not care who saw them, his reputation was hardly worth saving. "Of all the people in this school, you let him take you," he announced loudly enough to be overheard by gawkers who might have decided to tune in for the free show. Among them, Santario Martin. "It is none of your business," this domestic dispute that is. White knights came at a dime a dozen, but few considered the ramifications of their brand of justice and saw situations in black and white. They saw him as a villain because how could he be anything besides. It was wrong to yell at some pretty girl. It was wrong to manhandle them. To refuse them the liberty of their own dangerous stupidity and disastrous mistakes.

"Marion, we are leaving," he repeated as she dragged her feet. If she made a spectacle of herself then he would let her. He had suitcases that weighed more than her, with a duck and a bow he would do what he should have from the start and attempted to pick her up off her feet and carry her back to the castle. Away from the likes of a one Alexander Varellion. "If you wanted to date a monster, you had dozens to choose from that would have been a safer option than that lunatic," he continued as she screamed [not godmodding].

"Yeah, that's right Alexander Varellion is a psychopath and the rest of you would be better off if you kept your distance also!" He shouted as he attempted to continue to amble away with a pretty blonde draped over his shoulder [again, not god modding]. She was not right-side up, this was no romantic bridal style carry, it was more akin to a caveman dragging his woman without the covetous undertones back to his cave whilst neglecting to knock her fully out. In this one, specific situation the Neanderthals had gotten things right, dragging a conscious broad was far too tiresome and had he believed she had the health to endure a bonk on the head to save his ears from her protests he would have strongly considered said course of action.

"I am not above making you go away too," he muttered under his breath at a volume only Marion would hear [this would not be overhead, DC 30 Wisdom if moderators with to override].

|Interacting|
-
|Mentioning|
@Santario Martin @Vladimir Athanatos @Marion Davenport @Winnie Harper
|Open for Interaction|
Except Kaz, you'll make me cry

Ruka hadn't exactly thought through how he was going to spend the night of the Blossom Ball. His initial idea had been dwarfed rather quickly, stolen away by someone he considered somewhat of a friend. Not that Kaz had actually known about Ruka's intentions but something about him taking Dealla to the Ball still stung like bitter betrayal.

Not feeling in the mood to find someone else to accompany him, Ruka had decided to join the event by himself. The flyers with their mystic images and relatively simple to solve codes had been intriguing enough, and despite his own personal grudges he still wanted to support Kazuo in this event he had helped organise. So without much fanfare, Ruka had thrown himself together a simple outfit consisting of an orange-brownish Chlamys over a simple white Chiton. He'd kept his feet bare and decided to forego any fancy accessories. The only thing he'd brought along - to complete his outfit or maybe for reasons to do with last year's Ball Blackout - was a single lit torch clutched in his left hand.

The outfit was simple, almost drab really, but he had nobody to impress and he thought the one person he would have liked to impress was likely to appreciate his choices anyway. He wondered, for a moment, if she would choose to dress up the way he expected her to, or if her outfit would be as far from it as possible.

Shaking that thought, Ruka let his gaze drift across the various decorations, the eery atmosphere that lay across the entire area. There was nothing festive about this first location, nothing that felt like their usual annual balls. In a way it was calming, really. There were no overly excited crowds, no yelling, no rapidly moving bodies jumping across makeshift dance floors - Nothing that Ruka usually hated so much about these events. He was almost tempted to just stay here for the remainder of the night, but he did want to soak up his surroundings a little longer.

A few people had gathered already, but he seemed to be one of the first, which was not usually the case when it came to events. A little farther from him he could see one Santario Martin, a Slytherin girl he only really knew from passing and through mentions of others. The snakes woven through her hair made the intention of her outfit easy to guess; It was enticing in a way, captivating. Ruka found she looked like she belonged in this setting.

Yet another couple of faces he recognised and knew by name caught his attention next. Marion he had seen before, throwing a drink in Thomas' face just about a year ago for reasons that were still a little unclear. Thomas' intentions were vague and blurry at best, but Ruka had come to know the Slytherin as a close acquaintance so anybody who would be throwing drinks at him was worth keeping an eye on. Vladimir, Ruka recognised just a little better - Not just from purchasing a shady Valentine's card off of him last February, but also from trying to eavesdrop on him and Opeila while dancing with Flash at the Blossom Ball a year ago. Most of what he knew of the Ravenclaw he knew of his brother and none of it was flattering. Vladimir, the picture book villain, cold and possessive, responsible for the death of someone he had claimed to be friends with.

Ruka felt resentment bubbling up inside him as he observed the pair for a moment, watching the sudden temper tantrum Vladimir decided to throw. His rough handling of the girl he was with made Ruka suppress a gagging sound. The words thrown around strengthened the impression of possessive Ruka had gotten from Jack's tellings.

With one more glance at the pair, Ruka decided that he had no business involving himself in whatever lover's dispute Vladimir and Marion found themselves in, and if it resulted in yet another death he didn't particularly long to be witness to it. So instead he let his attention drift to a familiar face in a large flowery gown. He wouldn't have claimed to know Winnie well, but the young Ravenclaw was very insistent on Ruka having saved her life - Really, all he had done was help her get off the ground again - so he would have counted her to be a friendly acquaintance. She, as well as Santario, seemed to be caught up in inspecting a single bluebell flame surrounded by darkness, but Ruka found he had to look away from the location. For some reason it made him feel uneasy.

Instead, he moved towards the fountains spilling curious liquid into bowls set up on lines of tables. There was a strange smell coming from that same direction and Ruka leaned forward to inspect a darker liquid before helping himself to some of it. Lifting the small bowl like glass to his nose, he took a whiff to determine if it was the drink giving off the smell or something else. Narrowing his eyes he lowered the glass again without taking a sip. He didn't quite trust the drinks not to have any curious effects, but there could not be any harm in simply holding onto it for the moment, could there?

|Action|
- Entering the Ball
- Taking some punch to smell it but not drink from it yet
- Mentally accusing Vladimir of Murder (free action)

|Stats and Abilities|
Stamina - 7 || Evasion - 9 || Strength - 4 || Wisdom - 12 || Arcane Power - 6 || Accuracy - 7

The Muggle Condition || Advanced Casting || Perfectionist

INTERACTING WITH: n/a

MENTIONING: @Nichlas Forsberg, @Ella Forsberg

OPEN TO INTERACTION

The Blossom Ball was upon them! Greta had been looking forward to this moment for half a year. With the Hallowe'en masquerade had come an experience all unto itself. It had been the first time she'd been able to attend Hogwarts. How interesting it had been to see how the castle and culture differed from that of Durmstrang. It had been more than a little overwhelming, however. In fact, she could still clearly recall almost missing the masquerade entirely for the severity with which she'd been lost trying to find it. She could confidently say that the shifting stairs, trick steps, and suits of armor and portraits that never quite seemed to be in the same place for any length of time had not been her favourite feature.

After that... she'd rather fallen out of touch with Theodore. In part, she'd felt so guilty for not really following through on her promise to spend time with him during their last opportunity. But worse than that, a careless comment had made it known to her parents that he wasn't pureblood. The moment that revelation had surfaced, they'd put a stop to her communications with him, spouting nonsense about the dangers of foreign influence and not wanting her head to be filled with silly notions that did not befit her status. She'd cried and bemoaned the injustice of it all. However, their encouragement for her to spend more time with Ella and Nichlas had helped to curb that hurt.

Greta could hardly complain about any time she got to spend with Niche. Ever since she'd become friends with Ella, he'd been a prominent feature. With a presence that made itself known long before his arrival, he had gouged a spot in the back of her mind from the beginning. A spot that had quickly wormed itself to the forefront with little effort. Tall, confident, well-bred and dreamy. A picture-perfect prince in her eyes, and an adequate enough match in her parents' so that they held their tongues whenever they caught her chirping away happily about something that Niche had done or how he made her feel when she was around him.

Such notions, however, were—and would always have to be—confined to the safety of her own quarters. Ella could be prickly when it came to her brother. It was bad enough that Greta's face resembled a tomato whenever Niche addressed her directly, or accidentally brushed against her, or looked at her... or really just walked into the same room. For the most part, though, Greta could at least give the stammered explanation that he just threw her off. Which wasn't an uncommon one. He had an aura about him that left many people ill at ease. She knew inherently that she couldn't tell Ella that she liked him. And she had to bite her tongue and avert her gaze whenever she saw other girls with him.

That didn't mean she didn't have her own ways of trying to catch his attention, however. And this year, she'd managed to work up the courage to suggest that perhaps he could attend teh Hogwarts Blossom Ball with her. And Ella. Her and Ella, of course. Not just her. As... as a brotherly figure. Like a protector. Surely her parents would appreciate knowing that there was someone looking out for her to keep her safe and to keep troublemakers at bay. Yes. Goodness knew that after the Quidditch tournament, Hanzo certainly couldn't be expected to keep an eye on her; he was more like than not getting into his own trouble. But if Niche went with her—them—it would be appreciated. And perhaps even a bit fun!

Somehow, against all odds and sending her head into a tizzying spin of euphoria, he had eventually agreed. And definitely not because he had nothing better to do. Or because his family had told him to keep an eye on Ella and that Greta's involvement happened to be a happy accident. Or any of the other thousands of reasons that had popped into Greta's head to explain how she had gotten so lucky as to attend the ball as his date charge.

Trying—and failing horribly—to contain her smile, she made her way towards Hogwarts' courtyard beside Niche. She hardly even registered the decorations, or the people who had already arrived. Every fiber in her body felt as though it were charged with electricity. Every step shifted her Demeter-inspired costume dress in a way that sent sparks of adrenaline over her skin. Her head remained fixed ahead, but her gaze slightly unfocused as she fought the urge to glance towards him every few seconds. She was going with Nichlas. Fingers twisted and writhed in their grip of the wicker basket handle. Knuckles whitened. She was with Niche.

ACTION: Entering the "Underworld" with Nichlas

Marion Davenport

Mentions: Alexander Varellion, Victor Moore

Interacts with: Vladimir Athanatos

Action Entering the ball.

"Like Tartarus you are, we are not going."

She expected him to be angry, just not as angry as he became. He sometimes got like this, physical that was. Just not with her. When he grabbed her arm and tightened his grip like a vice, she cried out "ow! Vlad, stop, you're hurting me!" She tried to pull away but she was not particularly strong. She dug her heels into the ground and tried to pry herself free to no avail.

"Of all the people in this school, you let him take you."

She was well-aware of who Alexander was but she knew he had no idea. She knew that he had forgotten what he had done, all of those terrible things. There was no way he would have approached her otherwise. "You did it," and she knew that Vladimir was somehow involved. Not that this was the place to have such an argument, this was now the place they were about to have it.

"Marion, we are leaving."

She let out a shriek when Vladimir lifted her from her feet rather than give her a straight answer. This was everything she had hoped for in truth, just she should have been a bit more careful about exactly what she wanted. She knew that he would be mad, furious even. She just did not anticipate his anger being focused on her rather than her date. Indeed, it was a set-up from the start. "Let me down!" She bellowed, a less than lady-like shout as she was turned upside down, his arm pinning her knees to him for balance. She would pound the sides of her fist into his back. "You're ruining my hair!" And make-up for that matter.

"If you wanted to date a monster, you had dozens to choose from that would have been a safer option than that lunatic."

"He won't do nothing any more," she protested, although her voice was muffled by his back.

He would repeat for those that were watching this dispute on what should be a 'happy' day ruined in part by her vanity and cruel intentions as well as his possessive and controlling nature. "If you wanted to date me, you could have! You had your chance!" A barb, a truth between them that was never discussed. She knew that he wanted more, nobody does what he did for her and Victor both without a want for something in return. "Now put me down and let me enjoy my date with the guy I want to be with!"

Indeed, he was the villain in this scenario. A jealous potential paramour that was trying to drag her away from her date. So physical, so cruel.

"Yeah, that's right Alexander Varellion is a psychopath and the rest of you would be better off if you kept your distance also!"

He gave a warning to those that had stopped their merriment. Insistent of Alexander's potential for disaster. Another hard beat of her diminutive hand against his back. "Stop this Vlad, you already let Vic die! Let me live my damn life!"

"I am not above making you go away too..."

He muttered and she knew he was speaking the truth. That he would rather he be gone than to suffer an alternative fate. Vladimir was responsible for the disappearances of several that she knew of, Alexander being one of them. She did not know the whole story or even why, but she saw bits and pieces of the story. She just did not care why. It did not concern her. She was more selfish than she looked on the surface, in the end she looked out for herself and Alexander was her ticket.

"You would not dare," she exhaled. She did not know for certain if that was true, but she knew he loved her. That sending her away would change her. That it would not end the curse or the pain. That sending her away meant certain death for her. No, he could not. He would not.