Fall Ball 2021 Samhain Festival

"Oh bother," she pouted with thick pillowy lips. She was too pretty to fail not once, but twice. What the hell Thomas LeStrange. He was being swarmed by women, a real ladies man apparently. The fates might have other plans for a one Thomas LeStrange, the role of tortured protagonist rather than true victim. So be it callous lords of this one's infernal fate. A final try, a third curse.

Of tongue and of hair, denied. Not passion or vanity, what remained was inhuman touch. Her long, manicured nails would reach out to touch him, his jaw, his neck, his hand, any bit of exposed flesh. "Poison are you, and shall forever be, your kind will pay a hefty fee"

She could see at the corner of her eye Victor, her unfortunate white knight. Perennially blind to her failings, her cruel and terrible nature. He saw it those years ago when she first made herself known. A girl who inexplicably saddled with with the rich pureblood, who smiled and flirted and led him on. The girl whose games sometimes involved Victor, then a bully of sorts. His parents worked under purebloods, in fact that was the boss' son. His chance to be in control, to give the boy who had it all a taste of his suffering. She was not a kind, suffering girl that was a true victim but with time, circumstance and shared trauma their origins had been forgotten. Blue eyes and a wide smile had a way making a boy forget about things.

He would die protecting her and she knew it. Too bad for him.

Santario Martin would come out of nowhere, apparently their tête-à-tête had summoned the panicked masses. Begging for what in panting breaths, information? What the hell did the LeStrange know? How to make a girl uncomfortable? Apparently how to attract thirsty and desperate girls. A powerful skillset indeed for a B-rank Casanova as he gained feminine defenders. No matter Tommy, the fun is just starting...

Curse Attempt:
Thomas is poisonous to his own race (full humans) and if they touch anyone that is of the same race as them (full human), the being they are in contact with must make a stamina save with a DC of 25 or be poisoned for one hour (retching uncontrollably), statistically disadvantage on all rolls; in addition they suffer 100 damage each round they stay in contact. The sensation is like a cold fire.

Action: Attempting to touch Thomas, any piece of exposed skin.

Inventory: Wand, three small opaque jars that are secured with a cork.

Outfit: Dress & Shoes

Interacts With: @Thomas LeStrange

Mentions: @Falenta Black, @Victor Moore, @Santario Martin, @Percival Gray, @Erin Ryan

"Victor!"

Jack Burnett had made himself known. Victor shook his head and let out a sigh as he heard the familiar voice. Jack was a nice guy, the little he knew of the boy. A bit impassioned, a bit foolish, certainly dramatic but he was not inherently bad. That was his opinion of the scarcely seen Slytherin in any case.

"What's going on? What are you doing?"

Why was this about him? Was he the only one with his wand out? Perhaps he had gone utterly and completely mad. Oh well if that was the case. "Under attack yet again," he mumbled. it was rather obvious, the spells being slung for no reason beyond the fact that they were proximal. His hands would catch the falling girl, in his hands briefly what he coveted. She did not feel quite real as he grasped her in his free hand like a mannequin that had been knocked over. Certainly he did not have time for romance, a bridal style carry, not would he want to. She was Percival's and he had no intention of intruding. She had rescued Bridget from vulnerability, gave her the opportunity to once again attack. Now what Bridget does would be on Ileen's hands and truth be told, he was not ready to forgive her for whatever Bridget might do.

"Apparently Thomas setting off a bright green flare, blinding Marion is fine... but the moment she says anything to him," her wand not even drawn "the wands came out and they started shooting." It was a logical vantage point to have really, they attacked out of nowhere and he was no longer willing to allow himself or Mary to be victimized. The fact that she was still standing, that she hardly even regarded the attacks thus far cast was a cruel reminder for him at least of the fact this his peers were the shoot first, ask later sorts.

“PERCIVAL, JACK!”

Santario Martin would interrupt the teen's explanation.

“Victor died a year ago, we know it. That is a porcelain shell full of bugs. A very cruel effigy for a centipede created by the hags! I did not feel a pulse, but I did feel bugs!”

He simply swallowed in spite of the fact that his throat felt dry. Her claim was true, although he did not know how she knew those specific details. Not that it mattered, it was not wrong. It was the purpose of the claim, of the dissemination of the information in the first place. The fact that his plight was shared, discussed and now used as what - a reason to run away. To drive a wedge between him any any allies he might have, as scarce as they might have been. "True," he admitted low enough for only Jack, the only one that came to him. It was best to send him finally on his way. "Remember, we were not friends anyways... it is best that you run," he warned. Run before they turn on him for standing too near. Before they spread their ire to the nearest, most convenient target. Before Jack is reduced also to nothing more than a porcelain doll filled with insects, the product of dark magic and blackened blood.

"She lies," he proclaimed loudly. "Her claims mad spoutings to incite chaos. There is no proof." That being his challenge here and now as he considered what he could do. He could not fight them all but life was ephemeral at best. Life was pain. Existence was suffering. He would never forget when their bags were stolen. When he was burned alive, he remembered it all even if this was not the same flesh, even if this soul if there is a such a thing was not the same. He had the same memories, the same thoughts, feelings and aspirations... Did that not make him one in the same? It was and it was not him, but he remembered well. They cared about themselves, not who they hurt, the consequences and sometimes he wondered what they thought they knew. What sort of proof or tale had to be spun that was so entirely one-sided to compel others to act in the ways that they had.

"Ileen!"

One of his dormmates called out to the girl braces against him. Held aloft, not allowed to hit the ground only by his left grip.

"What happened? Get your hands off her, dead boy!"

Percival demanded. He would have no time to ponder more. He would relinquish his hold of the girl awkwardly braced to his side. "Take her then, but if you hurt her I will feed you your spleen," the teen warned in such a casual manner one would have thought he was threatening to narc on him to the principal. He meant it, Percival don't you dare hurt her or take advantage of her, Victor would break you. No explanation would follow, as far as he was concerned he owed the loud, bumbling youth that hardly deserved to breathe Ileen's scent absolutely nothing.

Bridget had escaped, thanks to Ileen's meddling of course. "I will take down Bridget and..." his eyes scanned the dancefloor for threats to see "other Percival." He meant Percival Gray, the newly inducted Prefect for their house, member of their shared dorm. He would shout that they needed to restrain Victor, the threat. Truths perhaps but he no longer cared.

"VICTOR!"

Percival was on the attack and so was Victor.

"Immbolus!"

Whose attack would land first, the Prefect or the doll's?

"The monsters here are the ones I have spent years suffering along side of!" The teen shouted in turn. Being burnt alive, skewered, cursed and tormented by his peers. He lived his life, existed in these other lives he remembered, in fear and pain. "Had you ever tried to do anything but force your way, we could have been friends," but that was a possibility that had long since passed them by.

Victor's wand in hand, he would not yield ever again. This might be the place where he finally died. Stayed dead. The toymaker gone, his workshop and his dolls dismembered and destroyed. The hags, in those terrible darkened woods had been stripped of their resources time and time again as Vladimir stubbornly returned and escaped with whatever replacement they had made. They never stopped him because letting Vladimir murder his friend, relive his terrible legacy was just as cruel as letting the false boy wander back into the school.

"Immobulus," he proclaimed.

Even in the throes of anger, of stubborn defiance he did not want to hurt them in the ways that they did. The ways that they threatened. He just wanted them to stop, he just wanted to live and to be allowed to live.

Outfit: Suit

Inventory: Wand, flowers, corsage (for his date), chocolates and a small gift.

Action: Cast Immobulus at Bridget. Spell Spread (Ability) to spread to Percival G. passively allowing Percival to take ownership of Ilene.

Interacts with: @Bridget Collins[/mentions], @Percival Gray, @Percival Rainwood, @Ileen Knight & @Jack Burnett

Mentions: @Marion Davenport, @Santario Martin & @Thomas LeStrange

Interacting with @Vivian Fletcher and @Samantha Salwis



Outfit:



Aldor smiled as he greeted Samantha while waving his hand slighty.

He wasn't exactly sure of how to interact with her now that Vivian and him were dating, maybe he should just be casual, like always, it wasn't like this had to change anything, right? He was perfectly fine with having Samantha Salwis with them anyway, in fact, it should be fun for the three of them to stick together.

Aldor decided to replied to Samantha complimenting him on his suit, he wasn't exactly expecting anyone to say anything about it, on the other hand, he couldn't help but get a little to excited as he almost instantly recognized the inspiration of her dress.

It didn't seem like it, but Aldor had quite a fascination for movies, and he couldn't help but joke about his own costume he left back home.

''If I knew someone was going to show up dressed as Egon, I would've brought my Stay Puft Marshmallow Man costume with me''

He chuckled as he heard Samantha's comment on his pet rat, he was pretty sure anyone should be utterly terrified of Freyja, she was a wild fire that would destroy anything adible in her path and still go after more without even being slightly satisfied.

While he thought of this, Freyja was already in Vivian's hands, squeaking quietly while she had her head scratched by Vivian, apart of being a danger to the snacks that people left around in the Hufflepuff common room, she was quite loveable, she didn't seem to have a problem with being picked up by anyone.

''You shouldn't worry, unless you had any food with you.''

Freyja kept holding onto Vivian's hand, she seemed pleased to be treated like she was the center of attention, in her own mind, she was probably the queen of the entire world.

Aldor looked back and forth between Vivian and Samantha, slowly realizing that he hadn't really planned on what to do today.

''So- Did you have any plans on where to go or what to do?''




(Free) Action: Talking with Vivian and Samantha.

“PERCIVAL, JACK!”

Jack flinched visibly at the sound of his first name being called, particularly by a highly-unexpected voice, but it certainly drew his attention even in the middle of all the hullabaloo.

“Victor died a year ago, we know it. That is a porcelain shell full of bugs. A very cruel effigy for a centipede created by the hags! I did not feel a pulse, but I did feel bugs!”

Santario's words rang out clearly for him and Percival to hear, causing Jack's eyes to widen in shock. A shell full of bugs? A centipede...? Created by the hags?

"True."

He believed her, of course; she had no reason to lie, whatever their differences were. Still, it took a moment or two for Jack to process the concept, even when Victor himself confirmed that what she said was the truth. He turned back to the dead boy and searched his pale blue eyes when Victor gave both a reminder and a warning.

"Remember, we were not friends anyways... it is best that you run."

Jack's own eyes narrowed. "Too bad I don't have to be friends with someone to care about them," he muttered back, making no apparent move to go anywhere.

Why Victor insisted aloud that Santario lied when he had just quietly told Jack the truth befuddled the redhead. Did he want to throw the others off? Did he hope that, in admitting what he was to Jack, Jack would leave him be? That perhaps he would save himself?

Centipede-in-a-shell or not, there was still enough of the Victor that Jack knew in there to try to warn Jack away. Which, to Jack, meant that even if Santario was right, there was still enough of Victor in there to be worth trying to save.

After watching and listening to the exchange between Percival Rainwood and Victor over Ileen, Jack heard Victor proclaim that he would 'take down Bridget and the other Percival'. Not long after, said Percival - Percival Gray - called Victor's name as if in challenge and cast a spell in the fourth year's direction.

Jack, whether to try to save Victor from the spell, to restrain Victor as Gray had instructed, or for some other reason, flung himself bodily at Victor. His tackle was not with the intention of causing harm, but he wrapped his arms about the other boy as if to pin the other's arms to his sides as in an embrace. For all anyone knew, Jack could have simply been tackle-hugging his upperclassman to the ground. He wasn't aware that Victor had attempted to shoot off a spell of his own in response to Percival Gray's.

"Listen, Victor. I know Marion may be your friend, but she's cursed someone important to me and I'm not going to let you put yourself in harm's way for her sake. Not while I have something to say about it," he declared, doing his best to weigh the older boy down with his body and the added weight of the bag slung across his shoulders. He may not have necessarily wanted to do as Prefect Percival had ordered simply because he'd ordered it, but if they wanted the same thing, so be it.

Outfit: An old outfit modified to fit his new size this year

Inventory: Wand, Invisibility Cloak, Bluebottle Broom, Locksmith's knife

Action: Attempting to tackle Victor to the ground and keep him there

Interacting with: @Santario Martin, @Percival Gray, & @Victor Moore

Mentions/Proximity: @Bridget Collins, @Marion Davenport, @Henry Knight, @Thomas Lestrange, @Percival Rainwood, & @Ileen Knight

Abilities: Prodigal Charms Learner, Binding Mark, Perfectionist

Stats: Stamina - 6 | Evasion - 7 | Strength - 3 | Wisdom - 15 | Arcane Power - 7 | Accuracy - 7

Post Tracker: [1], [2]

The scream and the sickening sound a man's head made when crushed would be forever etched in the madwoman's memory. She did not understand why they were fighting, the purpose of the spells that were being slung, some at her. Her teeth sunk into the first to aim their wand at her -- Tyranni. The taste of human flesh was unexpectedly sweet, but hardly satisfied.

The gruesome outcome painted in red over Erin's face, down the front of her ahem... dress. The feral-seeming girl had a sense of self-preservation but little more at the present moment as time ticked away at its own pace, far too quickly for the likes of some. None smelled wholly innocent, the Quidditch Player included.

The lights, shouts and chaos leaving her disoriented, she would have tried to finish Tyranni off had she attacked again, had it not been for the offensive scent that wafted through the air. Ring one. Ring 2. Slug repelled most foul. The repugnant stench caused her head to hurt, her stomach to flip, the wigglers to spasm in dismay.

Out. Out of the rings most foul she would hurry. The taste of flesh still fresh as the blood on her lips. Erin would spy an old enemy of the mighty slug -- Percival Gray. Of whom she had not only tasted before, among the sweetest of meat, but moreover near and with his wand drawn. Instinct drove her to act on the very impulses that defined her as she lunged for Percival Gray, letting out a noise that was certainly inhuman in the process.

Action: Attempting to take a bite out of Percival Gray, leaving the slug repellent rings in haste.
Inventory: Wand, a neat piece of wood she found.
Attire: Dress, barefoot, hair as pictured above.
Interacts with: @Percival Gray
Mentions: @Thomas LeStrange, Jurgen Hess, @Serena Towers, @Hugh Lowe, @Galton Lansdale, and @Tyranni Whitethorn

Note: Becomes a hag at the stroke of midnight (this is defined by the moderators of this thread.

The chatting of the other students provided a nice background sound. Samantha smiled as her friend told her she had missed her. They had had classes together a few hours earlier, but it was fun seeing her friend all pretty, in a dress with make-up on.

When Vivian mentioned her dress, Samantha became really excited. "Yes, it is!" she with a big grin in her face. "I really love it, even though it is a dress!" She was really happy that her friend recognized her outfit, and the young girl became even happier when Aldor also did. She gasped when Aldor talked about his Stay Puft Marshmallow Man costume, "That would have been amazing!" She imaged Aldor in the costume, which was very different from what he was wearing now. "It would look great on you," she joked, great wasn't a word to call somebody who would be wearing a Marshmallow Man costume. Samantha was really excited that the two other had noticed her outfit, it had really made her day.

Samantha eyes widened when Aldor talked about food. "I have chocolate frogs in my bag," even though she had food, she didn't worry about it. "Can rats eat chocolate? I know chocolate is bad for dogs, but that is how far my knowledge about animals and chocolate goes." She said, deliberately ignoring Vivian's comment about how cute Freyja was. It wasn't that Samantha disliked the rat, she just didn't think it was cute. She didn't want to hurt the feelings of Aldor or Vivian by saying she didn't think Freyja was cute, so she just didn't say anything.

"Actually before I saw you guys I was planning on going to the ball." Samantha answered to Aldors question,"but when I saw you two I wanted to say hi."Well, she had gone to them because she wanted to say hi to Vivian, she wouldn't have approached Aldor if he wasn't with Vivian. "I also saw a group of students fighting, I stayed as far away from them as possible and being in the tent is probably the furthest we can get from them, so I am going to the tent." Samantha didn't know what the other two would do, but she would be happy to stay with them for a while. Except if they were going to the matchmaking booth, she didn't want to come near that thing.

To fight, or flight. Thomas Lestrange entered the festival this evening in a hunt for blood. To get even, drawing attention to the phony Davenport. Collapsing her bed of lies, exposing her for all to see. Though his options dwindled with the blonde closing in for…a smooch, a handful of hair, a poisonous touch(unbeknownst to him). Though it was plain to see for those well versed in a hag’s nature, the damage would go far beyond unwanted lips or hand placement.

The words that left the lively lips of an otherwise blossoming beauty left a dreadful sting. She meant to curse him, and without the tools to counter, her mark may yet be permanent. Effectively laying out a path before his feet, forever despairing and alone. A cycle the boy was on the cusp of breaking, a great shame it would be to fall astray.

The argument for fight: He…has friends. Plain and simple, Thomas has managed to rally a band of sympathizers around his story. Overlooking the dreadful acts the boy has done to simply walk and breathe under his own discretion. The friends he has so poorly allowed to stand in harm’s way on his behalf. If a sacrifice was to be made, it should be Thomas and Thomas alone.

For flight: We’ve covered this, Thomas is no hero. Having had countless opportunities to speak up, utilizing the many resources the campus provides. It was always escape over action, no counter for languishing fear. This evening no different, Thomas would backpedal to retain a distance from Marion Davenport in her calm approach. Though shaky knees left him in a progressive wobble, as if the ground behind him elevated.

He would no longer pay any mind to Bridget Collins, whom he would not fear for even in frozen state. Unaware an unlikely interventionist came to her aid(Ileen), initiating a role swap. Victor Moore’s goal was simple. To keep any that oppose Marion at bay, at least long enough to allow her Thomas’ head. The Percivals’ may play a relevant role yet, a pair of simp jobs to assist their respective lady friends.

The silent guardian, Selim Faust, was silently joined by another. A role swap, if you will. Only two balls past, it was Rafael who stomped in a karmic inducing fit. And he may have been successful if he hunted the right target.

Another relevant party that evening two years ago entered the fray, Jack Burnett of Slytherin. Not quite ready to reoccupy his role as punching bag between a pair of angsty Slytherins. Perhaps having learned physical confrontations were not his place. Unlike the others, Thomas would notice Jack’s entrance. Blue eyes flickered to view the boy, a mild relief at the sight. A feeling he would not readily admit to, or understand.

Likely sourced in the comfort to have another present that would detect the blonde’s fowl reality without a spoken word necessary. Jack Burnett was not one to facilitate violence as means for a solution. On the contrary, the chatter fox could and would talk his way out of every situation before grasping his mayhaw finished wand for a resolution.

“Victor! What are you doing?” Jack questioned.

Exhibit A, allowing Victor any opportunity for further manipulation in Marion’s defense. Even as the hag closed in on Thomas, not as a defenseless victim in peril. Yet as the aggressor, a side rarely seen by any familiar with Davenport.

Falentra Black remained at Thomas’ side in silence, though her frustrated features would indicate she remained an ally. If she was within arm’s reach, Thomas would motion to create distance, creating a perimeter around Marion if possible.

"No worries to be made with threads so bare, I shall craft new beauties with this fine fresh hair." Marion spoke ominously.

Despite the general pessimism surrounding crones, they could be arrestingly charming. My hair, fine and fresh? The styled mop atop his head added in weight, present on his mind. Unaware this verbiage made the curse tick, initially believing Marion issued an unintentional compliment. All for naught, when the sparkly pink nails ascended in his direction, Thomas swiftly sidestepping to leave her empty-handed once more.

His confidence, at least in regards to escaping hag meat status, blossomed with each successful evasion. The work and choice of attire left the boy with a glimmer of confidence. Though it would not be enough to deter Marion’s continued series of attacks. A pout played along her lips, followed by another dark utterance.

“Oh, bother. Poison are you, and shall forever be, your kind will pay a hefty fee.’ Another attempt.

This one not as charming, the combination of poison and forever did not leave a fluttering impression. Pressing his lips together, his grip tightened around his wand. Slightly ascending his height, on his toes in readiness to anticipate the direction of her attack.

”Given up on explanations, have we? You had a way with words you know, rallying those behind your pitiful cause. Always the offended, helpless victim.”

From letting the darkness into Slytherin the night of the spider attacks, to a series of lies at the owlery. Wisely remaining in the shadows as she allowed an innocent Ravenclaw to take the brunt of her actions. Now freely assaulting students, such as Flash Holmwood or Santario Martin. Unchecked, hidden behind a flourishing appearance that screams fashion shows and reality TV.

Thomas turned to Victor briefly, “She left you to die, and so you did.” There was not even a shadow of the boy that once was Victor Moore, his mind taken and body tampered.

“Victor died a year ago, we know it. That is a porcelain shell full of bugs. A very cruel effigy for a centipede created by the hags! I did not feel a pulse, but I did feel bugs!” “A welcome interjection from Santario.

A confidence continued to blossom within the boy, a feeling prompted only by his closest friend. Blue eyes narrowed with a slight curl of his lips to form a modest smile, reminiscent of a disheartened soldier watching their king join the line. Though there was no time for embraces or fond words, Marion continued to press. Operating under a false mien years in the making, a status Thomas would swiftly need to undo.

”She.” Thomas glared towards Marion, indicating her as the clear target for Santario. Brandishing his wand towards Marion once more. ”Enough hiding, show us what you are. Revelio!”

For all the hopeful storming emotions that surrounded him, a fool’s fool he remains. The forces he deals beyond what he’s equipped. Outplayed and outsmarted at each turn, Marion would only flip his pitiful board of checkers to reveal the many chess pieces at her disposal. Regardless of the outcome, Thomas would leave here tonight beyond repair.

Action: Casting Revelio at Marion Davenport
Mod note: Only exposed parts of skin are his hands and face.

Primary Interactions: @Marion Davenport | @Santario Martin | @Bridget Collins | @Falentra Black | @Ami Procoppio | @Jack Burnett

Stats: Stam: 8 | Eva: 10 | Str: 7 | Wis: 8 | Arc: 3 | Acc: 10
Abilities: Evasive | Evasive Deux

The scene beginning to unfold, was absolutely horrific. That was the only way to describe it. Just horrific. The brutish, bloody nature, was not what made it gut-wrenching. Gore and violence had been seen before, it was nothing new. It could no longer faze. Time and exposure had nearly desensitized. Yet, the fight going down made Xailah freeze. Made her think. Made her scared. A tiny, primitive voice residing in the back of her head, cried; retreating into a fleshy grey corner in childlike fashion. She herself remained planted in the moment, however. Eyes rounded; their black, twin daggers slotted, sharpening the longer they stared. This was a repeat. A repeat of a night Xailah had been trying to repress for the past two years. She had nightmares about this. Sickening memory pooled in her minds crevices; like water flooding a barren creek bed. Rationality was slowly submerged, and quietly drowned.

The lumbering form of a fellow Gryffindor confused her. What is he going to do? Confusion morphed into animalistic horror as the large fellow reached, his hand like the claw of a giant construction machine, clasping down onto the head of another housemate. This housemate- the one who would fall victim to the larger boys hand-hat- was familiar. Jürgen Hess, was it? Boy was he trouble. His white knighting had a tendency to get out of hand most of the time. The last interaction Xailah had with him was in detention. The boy had endangered others, and during a dire moment of fight or flight. The act had made Xailah angry, and therefore felt the punishment was appropriate. The young man of course, thought otherwise. Any ire he might have earned, was most likely well deserved. That had been Xailah's mindset up until a few minutes ago. No one really deserved to have their skull cracked like a walnut. Unless of course, they did. It was hard to determine an enemy in that moment. Instinct and experience told the lioness that the brick wall of a boy needed to be brought down- that the half-giants were always the enemy in these scenarios. Two balls- half-giants being involved in both, attacking and dying in one- had rammed that primitive nail into her brain.

But then she remembered how exactly everything went down; the few faces involved, what they had tried to do. This beast of a lad, towering over his peers, was no monster. Lord no. He was more of a... stone golem. A misunderstood protector. At the Masquerade, where the two other giants attacked the students (only to be maimed to death by them), he had tried to help. He had tried to break the ballroom doors open, so that others could escape the fire that had been started inside. He was not the enemy, frankly he seemed to be the only one in control. Xailah deduced, the giantling was only trying to protect someone. And sometimes when you needed to protect something, you had to hurt someone. Badly sometimes.

The chaos wouldn't stop there, good lord no. The fire hadn't even started yet. This was just a taste. A little sampler- much like the one Erin Ryan would take out of another student, actually. The blonde who was, evidently, the focus of this whole mess, had found a quick snack: a girl dressed in a lovely, flowing, green gown would have her night ruined- and maybe, her attire. Which was a shame, because that dress was a damn pretty thing. Now, this was starting to play out like the conclusion of the infamous masquerade. Only Galton wasn't the one cannibalizing anyone. For once. The only thing that was different from that time, was, Galton never actually hurt anyone. He... assaulted their eyeballs, that much was true; but he never caused any actual harm. Not like Ryan had done- was doing. Something was wrong with the Slytherin. More so than usual. It was like that tiny sliver of humanity she was hanging on to, finally gave out. Was this where the story of the Erin Ryan ended? Apparently Erin's little snack was dissatisfying, and so the girl pulled away; the taste of warm metal on her tongue, and skin in her teeth. She bounded, her hunger having already directed to a new tasty morsel. Something crackled in the head of the lioness observing the chase. There's your target. Go. Xailah bolted after without much of a second thought, moving with a fluidity that might have implied she had done this before.

Open to interaction

Interacting with @Aldor Humbleglow and @ Samantha Salwis

outfit

The joy in her bestie's face pointed up that she was right about her outfit. Her friend's cuteness puffed up with this dress but the blonde wouldn't bring it out to Samantha when she's mindful that being called cute would hurt her. Even after a whole year, it sounds quirky but that's her sentiments and this girl would respect it in spite of being not told the reason. watching her friend delighted by her dress, the blonde beamed. "Marshmallow..." the Hufflepuff mumbled as she lifted her hand to her belly, once Aldor mentioned it she got reminded of the food, reviving the hunger, "Oh, you both, let's stop talking about food, shall we?" she soughed, tho it wasn't about food but costume. After all she didn't eat anything for two biggish hours and wantedly didn't take anything with her to avoid ruining her lipstick. next in order, the marshmallow costume would be fun but she wasn't sure if she's so broadminded to have her date wearing one. The same girl appreciated his work and admired his look on the last ball but at that time he wasn't her boyfriend and now he is, there's quite a difference. Thank the stars, he didn't wear one here and that was of no need to dwell on that so the blonde considered this as a joke and smiled at both.

The affection from Freyja makes her feel so good and the blonde just focused on playing with her until the chocolate topic popped up. Raising her head up from Freyja "Actually, I don't think it's a good idea, my mum's friend has a pet rat and I've seen him feed his pet with anything but chocolate- I am not sure whether it's because he's a chocolate lover or it's not good for its health-" turning her face to Aldor's side with a half shrug "-I am not sure but I guess the owner would know more than me" and smiled mildly. Vivian really liked Freyja and it wouldn't be effortless for anybody to feed her with chocolate unless she receives a valid explanation, tho she isn't her pet. Plan... did she have any plan? not until now, also planning wasn't her thing. At this moment, she wants to enter the matchmaking booth but what if Samantha wouldn't come with them? maybe they'll go later, before the ball ends. "so, if you still want to leave to the ball, we can! what do you think Al?" as she flicked her eyebrows with a bright smile. Students fighting?! "Wow- I mean oh no!- but where?" as she sloped her heel up to get the sight of any fight going on but it was so difficult in this crowd, "d'you know why, Sam?"

Action: Talking

For a moment, she thought that maybe she was in the wrong place or perhaps Lavinia had already gone on ahead. Another unsettling thought was that perhaps the girl had gotten cold feet and decided not to come, Elena knew from their interactions that the girl was not exactly a fan of school events and large venues of people. Elena could not blame her, she was the same way if anything and understood the reasoning all too well but that didn't mean they had to view it as an obstacle. If anything, the brunette was inherently thankful she had broken out of her shell and managed to open up a little and it had been for the better. Sure, she was still the quiet Gryffindor that preferred to follow then lead but that didn't mean she avoided everyone like the plague. If anything, she thought it would be good for Lavinina as people streamed forth with no sign of her friend in sight.

The girl has halfway between debating whether to stay or march up to Ravenclaw Tower to determine what had happened if the tower would even let her in before a familiar voice called out as her head turned a smile slipping onto her features in a sense of relief. The words came out so fast, so quick Elena simply stared as Lavina rattled off barely making sense of what she was saying. "Whoa, whoa, calm down. It's alright, the headband thing looks really neat if you ask me, you gotta teach me how you did that." She said grinning eyes flicking up to the floating cards, an ingenious amount of magic if she was being brutally honest but it was as good as anyone's guess. Elena herself hadn't bothered with any sort of complicated wandwork relishing in her own dress and boots which her Ravenclaw friend seemed to take a liking to.

She beamed at her. "Thanks, I couldn't find a good pair of heels so I found these boots lying around, think they belonged to my mother at one point." The perks of being in a reputable family was that they knew how to dress even if they were right awful gits but Darren had snuck the shoewear off to her once he had found out that she needed something and Elena had thanked him a million times over in her head. Flowers and checkers, it was a funny sort of combination but it just worked for some reason that she couldn't voice quite yet. "Look at you though, you're like a real-life princess!" She said grinning gesturing to the swishing blue dress, a bit wider at the bottom but if you asked Elena, Lavinia could pass for royalty if she wanted to as the girl had left nothing to spare and whole card headband thing was still something she was struggling to wrap her head around.

She would have to figure out how Lavinia did that at one point or the other. For now though, more pressing and important matters required their attention eyes shifting to the various crowdogoes all of who were invested in their own little matters whether it be relishing what the ball had to offer or something else.

"I'm glad you came, Lavinia. It means a lot." She said gracing the girl with a smile.

They would make a social butterfly out of her in no time.