The Seven Schools Open Closed

Ilvermorny | Second Year | Thunderbird

♫♪.ılılılllılıll |̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅| llılılıllılılı.♪♫

Stephen's lengthy apparition explanation had effectively distracted Jamie from the costume debacle. He blinked once. Then twice. "Uh... In English, please?"
"It means wizards can teleport, stupid." Melissa deadpanned. She flashed a brilliant smile at the other two. "Very nice to meet you, too!"

Jamie opened his mouth to counter her insult, but was stalled once more by Stephen's fist coming round to clobber him. The redhead swerved away, hard, so much so that he toppled off the bench, falling squarely on top of the costume. Perhaps this had hurt him more than the punch would have, but he seemed totally unfazed.
"Is that a challenge?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows at Stephen. "Guess I'll have to come up with other nicknames for you, then."

His friend's next comment drew his attention back to the getup on the floor. Jamie scrambled onto his knees and lifted the tights with renewed interest. As his mind latched onto the idea, a grin began to form on his lips. Robin Hood! That was the thief guy who lived in the woods, right? He was pretty certain that he'd seen a Disney movie about him once. Jamie turned to Stephen, and said in his best British accent (which was actually very bad): "I think you're right, Master Steef. I shall wear these tights with pride, and look very cool in the process."
He gathered up the costume and stuffed it back into the box. Then he promptly sat back down and bopped the giggly Steef on the head. "Bruh. I always thought I was more of a Fawn, anyway."

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Right... I think I'll leave now. Have fun with your tights, stupid."
Jamie stuck out his tongue at his sister's retreating figure, then took an arrow from the box to examine it. "Best not to mess with the guy who has a bunch of arrows, Steef," he remarked, using the arrow tip to repeatedly poke his friend in the arm.
"Never know when you'll need a badass... uh.. a-archer? Archer! To defend you from evil!" He proudly puffed out his chest, then sprang from the bench, box tucked securely under his arm. Now that he knew what they were, the contents were more intriguing than ever. "Okay! Later guys-- I have some Robin Hood-ing to do!"

♫♪.ılılılllılıll |̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅| llılılıllılılı.♪♫

| @AngelFyre McCubbin | @EmmaLee LeDames |

She didn't realize the atmosphere was so charged. Soraia's attention was solely focused on the yummy food before her. She hadn't noticed the fact that the Castelobruxo students were on the brink of war. It didn't dawn on her until voices were raised. Soraia lifted her gaze from the food, eyes wide as she watched a cup sail through the air -- liquid sloshing from it. It was then that things had gone from bad to worse. All hell broke loose. Someone was shouting a spell, the tall foreign student had attempted to tackle a Castelobruxo attendee. Soraia dropped her spoon to the table, opening her mouth to yell out a warning but all that came was a short squeak of surprise as she watched the confident young man avoid both maneuvers.

The portuguese that flowed from his mouth was easily understood. Soraia could tell he was antagonizing both opponents and for a moment, she thought it was all so silly. Why were they fighting then they could be eating? Again, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came because another spell was shot across the space. Soon enough, the participants were casting them back and forth and Soraia dropped her head to the table, doing her best to duck the action. "Meu deus!" she muttered, shoving her plate away in frustration. "Estamos no meio do jantar!” My god! We are in the middle of dinner!

No sooner had the words left her mouth did she lift her head -- and watched a plate sail towards Agata. ❛ Hey! ❜, she screamed at the girl, pointing her finger at her. ❛Porra loca!❜ Relief flooded through her body as she watched it miss Agata. Someone had to stop this. If not for the sake of her Castelobruxo schoolmates, for the sake of her dinner! Soraia slammed her fist onto the table, beginning to stand. But the action was drowned out by the sound of someone else doing the exact same. Except his strike against the wood table actually sounded intimidating. The words he spoke were more forceful. Even she jolted...and slowly dropped back onto the bench in silence.

Soraia had no idea what his name was but he could tell that he meant business and it was obvious that he was used to people listening to him. He was handsome in his way. His hair, the scar over his left eye, the strong but silent persona she assumed he possessed. He hadn't said a word to her or even noticed that she was there but she couldn't stop staring at him. It was rude. She forced herself to look away, instead replaying his words in her head. Soraia understood his English perfectly and was immensely grateful that someone had stepped in. She wasn't afraid of a good fight but this all seemed so foolish. She hated being foolish. ❛ Ele tem razão. Representamos Castelobruxo. Não afunde ao nível do outro. ❜, (He's right. We represent Castelobruxo. Don't sink to another's level.) Soraia gazed over at the student again, catching a glimpse of his ear. Yes, he was certainly someone people knew not to mess with.

Reducio

WORD COUNT: 507
ACTIONS: soraia realizes she's in the middle of chaos. also realizes the castelobruxo students are chaotic af and the durmstrang students are insane. kinda gains a crush nbd
STATS: ST • 9 | EV • 8 | STR • 4‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ | WI • 9 | AR • 5 | AC • 10
ABILITIES: advanced casting, comprehend languages, & spell spread

Roleplaying as: Agata Ríos Matos
Languages: Spanish - #e62719 English - #195ee6
Interacting with: @Ivy Bellamy as Cielle Johansen, @Lucinia Thawin as Soraia Sampaio
Mentioning: @Flash Holmswood as Yefim Rumyantsev,

Agata watched as the energy in the room hit the ceiling and somehow fizzled out. It seemed that the older bully boy couldn't handle his minions and they were causing a ruckus. Making a complete mess of the place, if she was being honest. One had decided to throw something her way, a plate of food she supposed, but Agata wasn't having it. Ducking out of the way, thank goodness for broom racing reflexes, she swivelled her head to look at the girl, the plate coming to land on the floor next to her with a crash. She narrowed her eyes at the girl. How dare she?!

Just as Agata went to pick up another plate of food to serve revenge, she heard her schoolmate chide them. And she wasn't the only one. Even Yefim, she now understood his name to be, had decided it wasn't worth finishing what he had started.

Agata stopped for a second, looking around at the mess. They were right. Where was the kindness her mother insisted she show. Apparently no where to be seen. With a glare sent the Durmstrang girls way she dusted off her seat, and sat down. She wouldn't retaliate, even if the girl was impossibly crazy and annoying. Agata would get her back somehow. They still had three weeks to go here in the dreary English castle...

Languages: Portuguese & English

Raul was in his element, and he could not wipe the arrogant smirk from his mouth. Laughter danced at the side of his lips, drawing his elfin features into something positively faelike. The summer court had come alive, not that the Brazilian boy understood the damnedest thing about Celtic myths. No, all he knew was the fleet of arrogant cackles that escaped from his mouth as he jumped out of the way of the Durmstrang champion’s second attempted tackle.

“Surely you must move faster than that should you wish to win the first task, dear friend,” The serpentine Brazilian taunted, his eyes turning away from his opponent and to the assembled crowd and chaos.

So it was that he did not see the failed cast, his attention instead drawn by the scenes unfolding around him. Boe had appeared, his older brother once again taking the part of protector, engaging the white-haired assassin in a battle of wands. Some of the girls had taken to battling one another through thrown plates as well. Through it all, the chaos and the cacophony, the mess that the school of the north and the south had made of the British hall, the Brazilian continued to laugh. God, he hadn’t expected to have so much fun.

Alas, all good things were always going to come to an end. And it seemed that the bull of a Russian had tired of their little game of cat and mouse. A shame, Raul supposed, but he had achieved what he’d intended. He’d spoken, and the older boy had failed to wipe the smirk from his face, nor the words from his lips.

Of course, even as he left, it seemed that the peacemakers of the respective schools of jungle and snow would take to the field. Raul didn’t understand what the foreign boy said, but he could assume based on the agreement from one of his own classmates.

Raul quirked his head to the side, staring at the girl with a confused look, before relaxing into a shrug.

“They hardly seemed up to the challenge in any event,” He smirked.

Shooting a glance toward his older brother, he grinned at Boe, “Thanks for the back up, mano,” before turning his attention to the girl who had engaged in plate warfare, “And to you, friend.”

With his drink gone and the fight seemingly dying down, the boy could do little else but to take a literal bow, his impish smirk never leaving his visage, “With love, from Sao Paolo.”

The moment truly over, he would leave, he’d defended his school admirably. Truly a representative of Castelobruxo’s elite.

@Winnie Harper , @Flash Holmwood, @Jack Warren, @Marius Brown, @Beatrice Langstreth, @Lucinia Thawin, @Ivy Bellamy & @Piérre Marchonné

Leavin'

rping as cielle johansen.
interacting with @soraia sampaio, @yefim rumyantsev, @agata matos, and @romeo marchonné

As the plate Cielle had thrown towards the girl crashed onto the floor, some other student - presumably the first girl's friend (Soraia) - screamed an indignant 'Hey!' in her direction. Cielle glanced over at her briefly to stick her tongue out at her cheekily, before turning her attention back to the girl she'd thrown a plate at. She'd picked up her own plate, probably was preparing to piff it at Cielle's head. Cielle grabbed a cup off the nearest table in retaliation and was about to open her mouth to say something snide when---

BANG!

The sound of a fist thumping down on the table startled Cielle out of saying anything else. She looked over at the source of the sound and saw Romeo sitting at the table, gingerly massaging his own head. She couldn't help but let out a soundless giggle at his serious tone - she couldn't help it, he sounded so schoolmarmish. Or like a grumpy grandpa trying to take a nap in a house of screaming children. Still, a little bit of concern would show on her face as he mentioned a splitting headache. Was he ok?

Yefim said something about having fun elsewhere and left the Hall with a nonchalant shrug. It looked like everyone else was letting the fight end - if you could even call it a fight, with all the missed punches - so Cielle would flounce out of the hall after Yefim... although she couldn't resist throwing the cup she'd be holding over her shoulder, letting it shatter onto the floor behind her with a satisfying crash.

Leaving the thread unless stopped!

@lucinia thawin @flash holmwood @piérre marchonné @beatrice langstreth

Valentin listened to the fights breaking out around him, but none of it seemed serious – minor provocations as usual – so Valentin nodded back at Hiro and began thinking about which blatching story to tell him. If any of Val’s friends needed backup, they knew to shout. He was well known for his staunch loyalty and willingness to fight, so Valya sat frozen in his chair like King Frost himself. That is, until Romeo’s outburst.

"STOP it! All of you!" shouted the six-foot beater, bashing the table with his right fist and then rubbing his eyes in pain. "Cristo Santo Jesus Christ… I have a splitting headache and I can't deal with this today. I don't care who started it. I'm just..." He sighed. "Act like adults, not like children." The Italian growled and stared back down into his gnocci, as if the food’s tenderness could take away his terrible ache like a sacrificial doll.

Bolting upright, Valentin pushed back his chair and walked over to stand behind his co-captain. The white seeker’s face hardened like ice as he put his hands on each of Romeo’s shoulders, staring back at everyone around them as if the entire weight of the world had fallen upon this moment. Amethyst eyes locked onto each person, one by one, bearing down on them with all the chill of a glacier.

“Please stop,” Valentin said, his simple words laced with great pain.

Stats: STA 8 ✦ EVA 14 ✧ STR 2 ✦ WIS 15 ✧ARC 1 ✦ ACC 15 - Ency

Abilities: Keen Eye ✦ Charmer ✧ Evasive Maneuvers ✦ Fearless

@Flash Holmwood as Yefim Rumyantsev – @Kim Sato as Hiro Bakugo – @Piérre Marchonné as Romeo Marchonné; #CC3333 = English

Roleplaying as Ginyami Midorimori from Mahoutokoro
"English | Japanese"

When he asked if something was the matter, Ginyami at first feared he may have been being too nosy. Valentin's every movement, every word, intrigued him and he was curious as to each cause, but he chided himself mentally for not thinking better than to pry. Perhaps he could have discovered the reason from observation if he had watched carefully enough. However, Valentin didn't seem angry when he responded. In fact, he first assured Ginyami that he didn't need to stay on formal terms with him and allowed him the use of his first name.

"As you wish...Valentin," he replied, tasting the word on his lips carefully, not wanting to sully it with any form of even the slightest mispronunciation. This was the given name of the mysteriously alluring individual he had taken up a conversation with and he wanted to treat it with respect. Not many caught Ginyami's interest like this alabaster star of a teenager did, after all.

He listened, head cocked slightly, as Valentin's eyes drew half closed and he inhaled deeply before replying. He started to speak but, mid-sentence, drew his wand and uttered an incantation, performing a spell with the demure grace and elegance of a feline. Ginyami hardly had time to admire the falling flakes of snow before he found his gaze captured by silvery violet - almost iridescent - eyes once more.

"You are quite the poet, Valentin," Ginyami remarked after his peer had finished the description of his feeling. He was quiet a few seconds, contemplating the entirety of what had just been divulged to him, before speaking again. "What a profound emotion. Would you happen to know the cause, or is it simply what you feel?" He wondered what that countenance looked like when not plagued by such troubles. It must have been blindingly radiant to any blessed enough to witness it. Perhaps one day he himself could coax out such an expression from the one who could have easily been labeled a fairytale snow prince. It was a challenge he looked forward to.

Ginyami was stricken by the way in which Valentin described his love for quidditch and why. It was hypnotizing the way he spoke; charming, enchanting. I doubt quidditch is the only thing that pulls people toward you, he thought with a smile, hanging on the Durmstrang's student every word. Even the way he described how the pain of the sport transformed him was a wonder.

His passion for quidditch infused every sentence he spoke and Ginyami couldn't seem to get enough of it. Valentin even seemed to lose himself for a moment before returning to refer to his school and his similar sentiments for it but, as he said, 'on a grander scale'. Ginyami could hardly begin to wonder what it was like there.

He was both sorry and grateful for the entrance of Hiro for he feared he might have been pulled into the magnetism of those amethyst chip eyes without the intrusion. The sight of those thin lips curving with mischief was a new facet of Valentin Ginyami hadn't guessed that he had.

"Hit your friend? Hiro? Is this true?" he asked his underclassman, turning to him with what he had hoped to portray as an astonished expression, but his own amused smile ruined it. Leave it to Hiro to make friends in the most unconventional of ways. "How nice that you match with Shimizu-san. I'm sure he's just as impressed." He stroked Hiro's hair with a brotherly fondness. Hiro was one of the people Ginyami felt he could truly be himself with and he was grateful for him. There weren't many he thought who could have known his true nature and still decided to stay by his side. "So you made up over the summer? That's good to hear."

When he looked back up, though, Valentin's attention was elsewhere again. Ginyami followed his gaze to some other students who wore the Durmstrang uniform. Someone had thrown a drink on one of them, causing the space between Ginyami's brows to corrugate. What in the world was happening over there?

His focus was redirected to the invitiation to play an informal quidditch game. Ginyami's brows smoothed and he beamed at Valentin. "It would be my absolute pleasure," he answered, dipping his head.

But someone shouted out over the quarrel that had been taking place. It was another Durmstrang student and he seemed to have had enough of the fight. Valentin got up immediately to go over to his fellow schoolmate, a new expression on his ivory face. Ginyami blinked, stunned and impressed by the teen's loyalty and support of his friend. Hopefully it would be enough to cause the rabble-rousers to back off.

Interacting with: Valentin Schnell (@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood), Hiro Bakugo (@Kim Sato), and Akira Shimizu (@Avery Chen)

"You are quite the poet, Valentin," remarked Ginyami, picking up the intonation of the seeker’s name with precision and grace. "What a profound emotion. Would you happen to know the cause, or is it simply what you feel?"

Distracted by the scuffle erupting nearby, Valentin drummed his fingers once on the table with annoyance and then regarded Ginyami with an earnest glance.

“Let me answer that in a moment, please. You deserve a real explanation.” Talk of quidditch and Durmstrang, as well as interactions with Hiro, flittered into the conversation before the arguments around them intensified. When Valentin rose and went to stand behind the angry Italian, it might have seemed like the seeker had put off the topic in the hopes of avoiding responding altogether. Yet, when the tall seeker returned from his co-captain’s side, he folded his hands together with elbows on the table and stared back at Ginyami with the force of a man determined to make good on his promises.

Valentin had invited Ginyami to step away from formal grounds with him, and the boy kindly obliged – obliged to the point of cutting straight to the crux of Valentin’s issue. With a smile and a downward tip of his head, Valentin squeezed the fingers of his left hand with the palm of his right before turning over both palms to look at them. The albino was happy that Ginyami got right to the point, offering him the speed and precision others rarely delivered on the topic. If the black-haired fox wanted something, even a simple answer, Valentin didn’t want to have to dig to learn such important matters. There were already such wonderful games to play without having to toy with matters of the heart.

“It pleases me so much for you to ask straightforwardly,” began Valentin, acutely aware that they were in public. His butler, Sergei, had drilled such attentiveness into his head, even though Valentin rarely gave in to his requests for image management. Valentin, “the White Immortal,” had lived his entire life in the spotlight, and even in the wake of his mother’s murder, Valentin only ever wanted to be himself at every moment of the day – conspicuous or not – and this was the culture he strove to instill in his quidditch team. After all, what good was the love of the fans if premised on a lie? Looking up from his hands, Valentin’s eyes locked with those of dark brown once more.

This boy, Ginyami… no, he was not just another would-be fan. There was something more profound here, a genuine bilateral connection. It was not even that the other was just charming, either, for there was some flicker in the silver darkness’s pupils that Valentin knew to be important. Yes, Valya had looked. It would have been an unnatural, fearful lie not to peer into them, and for all the praise the other rained down on Valya, the words came to him as simple indications of Ginyami’s deeper structure. As Valentin’s unbroken gaze stared back, only genuine pleasure greeted the vulpine boy.

“About the cause of my feelings…” Valentin eased forward once again. Extending his open right hand across the table as he leaned in, the nimble musician’s left fingers traced the outlines of silvery scars emanating from his other palm. Usually concealed by the natural downward orientation of his hand, few ever noticed the strange treelike network of scar strokes that branched up his arm, disappearing under the red cuff of his coat. “One morning, I went into a stormy sky to ask this same question of Stribog myself, and he sent me to my death.” Valentin’s eyes glinted again with a bright rhodium sheen as he grinned. “…but I came back. Twice, even. The grace of a great man saved me, and then I had to let him go. Now, a revenant with empty hands…” Valentin paused, closing his eyes as if asking for the answer to come, and bit into the lower rim of his recurved-bow lips. Stribog, why?

“With empty hands, I return to this beautiful world knowing that I am the last of my kind. I was born with a legacy inside me, but I… I’m afraid that I will die with it alone. My family is no more, and with the frigid nights and my solitary hunts through the clouds, I…” Closing his hands, Valentin’s eyes shuttered away their pain even as a grimace shocked across his face. “Even if I got what I wanted, the gifts I was granted in this life would still pass away with me. I try to give everything of myself while I am still alive, but it’s not enough. None of what I give is ever enough. I just…”

Raising his gaze back up to meet Ginyami’s, Valentin swallowed with a wince of one eye. A shudder ran through the white seeker, as if it had grown too cold even for the frost captain himself. “Forgive me, I do not mean to speak so cryptically. I’m just moving too fast again… going too fast…” Grasping the golden ring on his right hand and spinning it around and around, Valentin’s eyes flared as if an ember in them caught onto something it could burn.

“I want you to have the answer you deserve. I can see that you’re…” Valentin shook his head, face prickling in self-annoyance. “Oh Stribog, help me.”

Valentin dug the nails of both hands into the table and clawed them towards himself, a silent snarl curling over half of his face. Indeed, Valentin would return Ginyami’s direct question with his own dauntless, genuine feelings. Leaning back to stare up at the ceiling, Valya ran his hands through his white hair again and pulled.

“I am grateful for your company, Ginyami. I wish… I wish I knew more about you. You are an intriguing fellow. I wish we were flying. Maybe then the winds would carry my words with better strength. I wish... I wish I knew what to do.” With a great sigh, Valentin collapsed back onto the table and sank his face into his hands. A shimmer caught the light as watery bolides dripped from his hands and exploded across the wood below.

Stats: STA 8 ✦ EVA 14 ✧ STR 2 ✦ WIS 15 ✧ARC 1 ✦ ACC 15 - Ency

Abilities: Keen Eye ✦ Charmer ✧ Evasive Maneuvers ✦ Fearless

@Jack Burnett as Ginyami Midorimori; #CC3333 = English