Magical Masquerade: The entrance

Posts | 1 2

There was a smile shimmering into existence on Dee's face as she finally spotted Alec heading towards her - towards the ball - a breath of tension released that she had been hiding. She hadn't really doubted he'd come, but it was still... just good to see him. A sort of reassurance, confirmation that this was the right place to be for her. For her safety and the safety of those around her, she didn't move as Alec approached, her lips twitching in amusement at the address. "Mason," she replied, the mockery in her voice faint and more fond than malicious. She'd always refused to call people by their last names, the habit seemed silly to her; but she'd gotten used to it from Alec. In a way, it was part of their unlikely friendship.

A compliment next, and Dee grinned in response, bright and unabashed. "Why, thank you, you look pretty dashing yourself," she replied. "I'd spin for you to admire me more, but I'd probably fall over my own feet." She lifted her left foot, showing off her shoe in emphasis, and wobbling on her right as she did. "You'll have to be my crutch tonight." Physically as well as emotionally. "Don't disappear on me, I'd be stranded."

Shrugging at the half-apology, or what she interpreted as such, she followed Alec's gaze towards the other ball attendants. "I just got here," she assured, cocking her head again at the odd sight of kids digging through bushes. "And no clue what is going on, honestly. I thought the ball was supposed to be on the Quidditch pitch, but the door isn't open?"

At least that question was answered soon after, a voice - a howler? - announcing that the key had been found, doors opening and kids streaming onto the pitch. So it had been a riddle of sorts, a scavenger hunt. That was kind of cute, although she wouldn't have been in the mood to participate anyway. "Well, that's one mystery solved," she observed, glancing to the side up at Alec with an encouraging smile, then slipping her hand around the crook of his elbow. She hadn't been joking when she'd said she was going to need him for support. "Ready to head in?" she asked.

Except not everyone was moving towards the gates. She'd missed them in the crowd so far, but with most of the students leaving, the few that didn't move stood out, and if that hadn't been enough, the shout would for sure have drawn Dee's attention. "PERI DON'T!" Dee flinched, turning to spot the source of the warning. Many familiar faces, from their own year, and some older - Meenauh in motion, her wand drawn; Aly moving as well, her beautifully shimmering dress immediately identifiable, a redhead in a stunning golden gown (Evelynn?) dashing towards a silver-haired boy that could only be Pericles. Peri, who was apparently in danger (?), focused on someone who was kneeling on the ground, only his back visible to Dee.

Change of plans then. She took a deep breath. "Stay with me?" she asked Alec, her eyes focused on the commotion, unsure of what was going on but determined to find out. Her friends were involved, she had to. It was up to him; if he didn't want to go, she'd give a quick, promised "I'll be right back" before heading off.

Moving into that direction, she broke into a jog after a few steps, weight on the balls of her feet rather than the death-trap heels, her eyes on Peri and the kneeling boy, whose form became more familiar the closer she got. Too familiar, in fact. She'd still be ten, fifteen metres off when realisation struck, her heartbeat skipping then speeding up even as she abruptly halted her feet, almost stumbling to a stop. "Jack?" she asked. The word was out before she realised it, likely too soft to be heard by anyone but those closest to her. Her eyes were trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Her ex-boyfriend was... digging?

Confused, she looked up, first at Alec (if he'd accompanied her), then wandering over to Aly, eyes questioning. What was going on?

Action | Heading over to the disaster-to-come. Extremely confused.
Interacting with @Alec Mason, kinda sorta @Aly Salinger
Mentioning @Evelynn Decipio, @Jack Warren

‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿

Interacting: @Mathias Pride | @ | @

Outfit: ✿ | ✿ | ✿

Mentioning: @Evelynn Decipio | @Jack Warren

English | Irish

A frown tugged at her lips as Mathias attempted to worm his way out of his mistake by blaming Winnie herself. The audacity of his actions left her mind reeling with disbelief. Merlin's sake, was he serious? He was really blaming her iconic style for the cause of the kiss? She could half remember times that Mathias had gotten on her nerves but they had never really fought before, so the sudden change in his personality felt like emotional whip lash. "You don't even know what I look like? You can't tell the difference after THREE YEARS?"

"You forgive me?" She repeated in her disbelief, her pink manicure dug into her palm as she clenched her fist to keep herself from screaming at her clueless boyfriend again. "Mathias Pride, you're unbelievable. You think you can kiss some other girl and shift the blame on me? That's NOT how this works!"

She couldn't stop her bottom lip from quivering, and soon the tears came, hot and stinging against her cheeks, as Mathias's callousness cut deeper than she had anticipated. "You're such a... a JERK!" She screamed, as if it were the worst insult she could ever hurl at him.

She turned on her heel, though her dramatic exit was was marred by the stubbornness of the ground beneath her feet. Huffing, with each step she trudged forward, her mind consumed by the desire to escape, to find solace in the sanctuary of the ballroom where they likely had real floors. She did not see the chaos unfolding before her. Jack was digging, it was an activity they were assigned when they first entered the event so it didn't strike her as too odd. Her vision was blurred due to her tears and she didn't want anyone to see her face, so she cusp her hand over her forehead to shield her visage from view.

Stupid jerk... Why has he changed suddenly? Evelynn's wand might have picked up as she passed the scene. It hurts, it hurts--... I want to hug Jack, he's busy, he's got a date, want to go home. I miss Mum.

Some people would have problems with digging. Maybe it was the filthiness. Perhaps the fact that the sod could cake itself under the nails. However, The issue wasn't dirt. The small rocks and sharp stones trying to burrow their way under his fingernails were the issue. Yet Jack felt that there was no reason to stop. Any pain experienced was ephemeral, not real. Fingernails will grow back. And what's underneath will, too.

The boy remained on his knees in eerie silence, digging into the soil with animalistic fervour. The only thing that mattered was the ground quickly crusting under his already cracking fingernails. It was close. Close. It was so close. He could almost taste the marrow as it pulsated beneath the surface. Deeper. Deeper. Closer. So tantalizingly close. Handful after handful began to pile on his lap, but he hardly noticed, as if it no longer existed in his zealous pursuit. As time laboured on, so did his breath. Ragged gasps ripped from his lungs, chest heaving. Each inhalation only expanded the bubble that sat firmly in his chest. It's lost. He must find it. His face contorted with an intense determination, his teeth gritted, and his eyes wide with an almost fanatical fixation on the dirt mountain before him. The pit grew larger, the maw of a hellish beast yawning and waking from its eternal slumber.

From what was once a mental orchestral, it was no longer. Instead, a deep, deafening beating of a kick drum, followed by the frantic pounding of snare drums, began their chaotic set. It urged him forward, screaming "faster" as the lead guitar played its opening riff. Even with the relentless beat of the drums, it couldn't entirely drown out the entirety of the noise around him. Words. Name. My name. Flicking his eyes to the side, the boy paused for a moment. Girl. Little girl. Annoyance. Unimportant. His purpose was more important. But there was more. Another child deemed himself worthy of taking his goal away from Jack, yet it seemed that the pest would take care of himself. One less roach. Back to the mission.

If only the hours he felt were more than mere moments. Coiled hands wrapped around his neck, nudging him closer to the edge of destruction victory. They wanted him to lose. That's why they are there.

"Jack...?"

The composition breakdown began, and one by one, the instruments started to fade into obscurity. The once thunderous beating drums grew softer before vanishing altogether, leaving the chugging bass guitar as the sole remaining survivor. They were waiting because the drop was coming.

"What's wrong, mate? Have you lost something"

Jack's senses were raging on fire; it was so close. His fingers burrowing deeper into the clay, every nerve electrified with a volatile intensity. His eyes wide with anticipation, a flickering primal spirit screaming to be freed behind the dark orbs. The brushing of his fingertips on his shoulder triggered screaming lyrics, and Jack could only glance over his shoulder at the person who dared to intrude into his space. It was as if it took a moment to register that a person had managed to get close enough. What did he want- Why was he here? The prize? He's trying to take it.

HE CAN'T HAVE IT.

Jack had lost control of the vehicle. He was overpowered, tied up at the wrist and ankles, and callously tossed into the abyss of the trunk. Whatever took his place was something much darker. Violent. Disturbing.

Prying a single hand from the dirt, the boy clutched his mud-caked fingers around Peri's wrist. Jack's voice, hoarse and strained, broke through his silence. "You can't have it". History once spoke about how a captured thief faced brutal punishment for their crimes. The loss of their hands ensured that they could never steal again. The Ravenclaw across from him looked awfully close to a thief eyeing up the vault where Jack's treasure lay in wait. With a roar of primal ferocity, Jack launched himself forward, a tempest of wild fury. Jack was always quick, and as he felt his body collide with his target, the boy ripped the only weapon he could find free of its confines. With a blur of motion, the dark cherry wood wand flashed through the air. Every muscle in the boy's body coiled, a snake preparing to to strike, as he brought the stake down towards Peri. If Jack had his way, the boy would never be able to look at his bounty ever again.

Interaction with @Pericles Dralt
Mentioning briefly: @Rebecca Lark
Action: Jack will spend all three of his actions to attacking Peri. Specifically he is trying to stake out his eyes

Outfit:

Reducio

Stats:

Reducio

Sta 7 | Ev 17 | Str 12 | Wis 5 | Arc 7 | Acc 10
Fearless | Charmer | Animagus

Outfit

Animagus Form in Effect; Piérre is a Marvellous Spatuletail Hummingbird
Piérre is UNANIMAGUSING

Calming Presence in Inactive due to Animagus Form;
Romeo Marchonné, Valentin Schnell, Greta Fransson & Figaro Affected

Adrenaline mixed with the feeling of being a constantly sugar-amped little bird with an addiction to flower sugar water that rivalled that of any other individual's need for a harder fix did not a good mix make, and Piérre would be the first to testify to it between his natural neuroticism, on-edge feeling at the moment, and the fact that he knew that history liked to repeat itself often and without failure. The longer that things went on like this, the higher that his stress levels rose and overflowed from a form too tiny to contain such emotions and human anxieties.

The noises were heightening, and the bird's heart race was accelerating as panic began to lace through the human mind within. Now there was no longer simply a shouting match but a whirlwind of movement that hummingbird eyes were well-attuned to observing for the sake of their own survival and for the sake of noticing the bright flowers that they could drink from--in this case replaced with the movement of children and the bright colors that they wore complete with gleaming items of shining interest in all forms. No, he did not see the whole picture--no, he did not know the entire situation, but the hallmarks of a conflict had well been emblazoned into his mind, and he knew a bad situation when he saw it.

Something big was going to happen. Something bad was going to happen. Not a run of a mill lover's spat--not when the pieces scattered around the board of this place were in their various and very specific positions.

And he couldn't stay here, couldn't stay here perfectly safe and sound when such a terrible thing could happen right in front of him.

He saw it in the crouched boy on the ground, the way that Pericles was reaching, the feral pose of the boy... a pose that Piérre knew very well as an indication of hostile defensiveness...

Oh how he wished that he could just have a normal and nice evening for once at one of these things, something that didn't make him want to almost tear out his hair with the anxiety and the fear that came with worrying over people and things. He really should have learned his lesson by now, should have known that it couldn't merely be 'that simple'. He should have learned a plethora of lessons by now, really, but none of them seemed to stick to him as well as they had been absorbed into others seemingly through their skin. He should have just stopped trying to do what he was trying to do for years now, having realized that his old ways were not working and that like so many others around him that he should forge a new person out of the old ashes.

He really should learn to stop caring, to understand that others could take care of themselves and that when he dipped his hands into the dishes with their attempts to solve their own problems he did nothing but exacerbate--that others told him that he exacerbated without failure, and that he should have just shut up, stayed away, and marinated in his own uselessness as a Watcher to the unveiling disasters that made the world tear apart and caused them to suffer when Piérre himself was so perfect for paying the same price.

Their vitriol and their chastisements could result in their unified screaming, cursing of his name, and tearing at his skin and hair later. They could do it because he had made sure that they were alive--that he had the knowledge that they were better able to punish him because they were whole.

Unless Greta's hand was fast enough to snatch him either in her hand or by the trailing spatule feathers, the little jewel bird seemed to take flight and zip away from her in the literal blink of an eye, accelerating from zero into a near top-hummingbird speed of at least 42 kilometers an hour (30mph) if not greater (hummingbirds have been recorded to have a crow's flight speed of up to 56kmh/35mph if not greater). His poor wings fluttering as fast as they would in their total 180 degree rotation, he dipped and dodged, zipping up and down like the jumping a very bad stop-motion film as his keen eyes and panicked surveillance tried to figure out where the core of the problem was and how he was going to circumvent it.

And there, without anything dividing him in the air and from the ground, was the very thing he had seen from not too far away. The whole terrible scene that seemed only a light breath from shattering entirely into a mass of mayhem with all the foretelling signs that were so glaringly obvious to anyone who had eyes to see them. The danger that Pericles was in was something that the anxiety-ridden and cowardly Piérre had come to know intimately, the position of someone coiled to strike that he had found himself in before and had found himself victim to before. DANGER, it shrieked in his mind as his heart skipped a beat in terror of the unknown. DANGER, wailed the terrible cry of the half of him that demanded action and immediate action at that.

Hands were reaching, one warningly, one aggressively, and none had touched yet. Piérre wanted to help the warning hand--Evelynn's hand. A hand that he trusted more than the other one covered in mud huddled to itself and coiled sullenly over a hole. What in the world was he trying to collect, anyways? What was it that was attracting so much attention, that was drawing and producing this much ire? [Hummingbird Observation/Flight potential?]

He had time. He had a chance. Such a small window, such a high chance of failure, but it was a chance.

The time he spent in the air was infinitesimal. He had no time to properly assess the situation or figure out what exactly was going on. The only thing he knew was panic, the only thing that he knew was there was a potential of danger an that there was a potential that he was going to make things much worse than they already were. But, if the equation held true and there was something to find himself worried over, wasn't it so much better to avert the danger than to worry about the fallout when it came to the emotions and the thoughts of others? Was not prevention better than trying to heal the disaster that came from a lack of prevention?

Icy claws of painful horror clenched his heart as the bird made a fast maneuver, horizontal to the conflict and then dove inwards, towards the incoming hands. He did not think, could not afford to think or to abort--hesitation meant uncertainty, this meant that he at least had some command of what could be. There would not be something in his own situation left up to fate as he went to command it and accept whatever consequences came from his help or hinderances. He was frightened. He was terrified, but he was near to breaking down into tears at the thoughts that cast themselves through his mind.

To Pericles, he had been such a terrible individual. Ungrateful, chaotic, simply not the person that he should have been if he had ever sought to create any level of friendship with him. Admiration so great, wishing that he could be even a hair of the young and self-assured man that he was. Clever, smart, seemed to understand the very fabric of the universe and his own place in it while Piérre himself found himself stumbling in it in a vertigo in which he couldn't seem to bring himself to comprehend if he was doing the right thing or only making everything worse. Pericles always knew the right thing to do, even when the words that came were harsh--they were harsh truth. Piérre was given harsh but grounding truth.

Piérre's words to him the last time they had actually spoken in that duel... what a terrible way to speak to someone that he loved.

And Evelynn... oh how much the tale was the same... that same rueful tale of his errors that had splintered him apart from what a human relationship should have been. His own actions, his own inability to cease what he could only now theorize to be his own narcissism--how he wanted to rip out the diseased parts of himself, if it meant just once he could finally connect with someone fully in a way that enabled a healing potential. Too flighty, too obnoxious, filterless in tongue, he was oblivious to the very serious and the real darknesses of the world--it made him seem disconnected, heartless, foolish.

A child. A child who tried too hard to help and was too over his head for his own good. Who acted out with bad behavior for attention, perhaps, and was then relegated to the corner of the room so that the adults could speak and he could self-destruct or otherwise be a frustrating nuisance in private.

Was there any way he could prove to them that he was anything otherwise? Would it matter? Or would it make things worse? Could he afford to make it worse, or could he afford instead to find his brilliant moment of breaking the cycle that encouraged these self-pitying and selfish thoughts of being understood?

What a terrible way to treat and to speak to the ones he loved...

A meter from the breaking conflict, Piérre willed himself to change--to drop the veiling form that obscured a human nature with the power of skinwalking. With the momentum of his wings having taken him to the greatest speed that he could have produced, now he felt his body enlarging, his fragile and delicate wings transforming back to arms, his feathers sloughing back into skin, his spatules becoming the gentle and flowing greens and pinks of his jester's attire--his outfit in full was correct, this outfit was easier to command when he transformed in and out of his animal form. A masque, cracked porcelain which was familiar to anyone who had known him in his first year at the Masquerade ball of 2019 that had been repurposed as a 'half-masque' was placed over the left side of his face, only barely clinging on with the momentum of his human flight along with the jester's crests that came with it. An expandable messenger bag on his hip--his schoolbag--rattled with the things that he had brought with him that had the total potential of breaking as soon as his flight would ultimately end in a crash.

But he was not worried about the crash. He was trying to divide Pericles from the coiled human, trying to divide them from each other in a risky maneuver that he knew well in sports: Bodyblocking. In a duel intended to take a spell or a strike as opposed to the defended, in quidditch intended to redirect a bludger from its own intended target. Piérre was serving as the feeling human flesh to divide the two fleshes that grasped and attempted to rend each other. If he could, if it was possible, he was trying to hook his arm either around the boy's neck or shoulder--anything that could disturb aim or focus. If he could, he would cling--he would with his momentum of 42+ kmh (30+ mph) and a mass of 55kg (121 lbs), his body would serve as a flying bludger of a force, the wall between two and a living, grasping hand of his own to dissuade and tackle.

He didn't know what would happen, nor did he care. Just this once, perhaps he could make things right.

He could make up for all the wrongs he had done, especially to those that he loved.

With no regrets.

Altered Action based on 'Held' Action Prior:
Rapidly Flying off of Greta's Head Top-Speed towards Pericles/Jack Conflict
UNANIMAGUSING and attempting to BODYBLOCK for Pericles
[Eg; Trying to break the connection/grab between Jack & Pericles by ramming the weak point of their arms as a hummingbird velocity transforming into human mass to not only break contact, but hopefully enable Evelynn pulling Pericles away]

Statistics: Stamina 7 | Strength 5 | Evasion 18 | Wisdom 12 | Accuracy 16 | ArcPower 5
Hummingbird: Stamina 1 | Strength 1 | Evasion 18 | Wisdom 1 | Accuracy 9

Abilities:
Keen Eye | Calming Presence | Beast Master [Cat] | Cat's Grace | Animagus [Hummingbird]
Hummingbird:
Flight | Observation (50% Chance [Flight/V. Small) | Stealth (25% Chance), +2 Stealth

Items:
Wand [10.2 inches Yew and Snallygaster Heartstring] | [Sharpened] Locksmith's Knife
[Red] Deck of 52 Playing Cards | Soda | Firebreathing Potion

Figaro the Silver Bengal Abilities: Cat's Grace | Claws and Bite Action: Staying Put with Val, Greta & Romeo [Changing Thread if Thread is Changed Status: Calming Presence (Piérre)

Beast Master Familiar: 200/200

Reducio @Reyna Evergreen fearless foulplay

Reducio outfit: blackout suit, combat boots Reducio ooc notes:

4/13/24 • english • japanese • wc: 299

· ─────── · · ─────── ·

Botan watched as the girl responded by pulling a mysterious bandage out of her bag. Botan assumed it was muggle, or American, but he let her put it on herself. He watched her as she ripped off the peeling, stuffed it back in her handbag, and pulled off the tabs of the bandaid and stuck it over where she was bleeding. Botan wondered if she needed to clean the wound, but he didn’t bring it up because it was only a small scrape.

He was slightly surprised when she thanked him. “Oh! Err… You are welcome. I am glad you are okay.” Botan looked at the girl as she introduced herself, Reyna Evergreen, second year Hufflepuff. Botan had assumed that she was from Hogwarts, the light British accent and strong English skills were his signs, but this just confirmed it. She was a second year student, same as him, so they were both around the same age. Perfect.

She then looked into his eyes as she invited him to join her. Botan was even more surprised about this, but he quickly recovered and replied, “Yes. Yes. I would love to join you. I don’t have a date, so this is perfect.” Secretly, this was his plan all along. Find some random girl and ask her to join him. Or in this case, have her ask him to enter the ball. “I think the key has been found, do you want to enter now?” He asked her. It would be really awkward if she were to say no, and Botan really hoped that she was ready to go in. He didn’t think that digging in the bushes was a good idea especially since she had already been cut by a thorn.

Action: Interacting with @Reyna Evergreen

Action: Casting Levioso (not Wingardium) at Jack, wandlessly and non-verbally (as there's no time).

⋄ April 13th, 2024 | Quidditch Training Pitch ⋄
⋄ Interactions: @Finnegan Connor, @Pericles Dralt, @Astra Norrick, and @Gideon Athanatos | Mentions: @Evelynn Decipio, @Jack Warren, and @Aly Salinger (not by name, but by nature of being in the party) ⋄

Mask	Outfit
Reducio	Reducio

𝓘t was easy for the world to quickly narrow in scope and focus when you're twelve. Everything felt looming and vast when you were experiencing it for the very first time, when you'd yet to develop the necessary skills required to give multiple events equal weight and attention in your mind. Keeping an eye on more than one threat at once was a skill most commonly learned by necessity or force, a back-handed gift earned almost exclusively through your prior failures. While Bex had certainly had her fair share of failures this year, they were all of the soft, childish sort: bad grades, lost Quidditch games, and friendships come and gone again. She could only be forgiven, then, for the selfish, human tendency to centralize the self as the center of the universe; she had yet to learn any better.

"Why wouldn't you? You're not ugly." If the shock of Finnegan popping up where he hadn't been mere moments before wasn't enough to completely banish Jack from her mind entirely, then the sheer mortification of the moment certainly was. Finnegan was an anomaly like that. Before their fledgling friendship had begun, she'd been unaware that you could be both happy to see someone's familiarly rumpled form and yet somehow also want to take a swing at them with your beater's bat at the same time. It was just so fitting that he would decide to show up at the most embarrassing possible moment for her. If you'd told her that he had an alarm set for it, she would have believed you without question.

"I- thank you? Wait, no- What's that s'posed to mean?"

Finn was barrelling on, though, he'd gotten sight of her within his scope and was now gleefully taking shots at her feet to watch her dance. "Don't know about this Jack though, isn't he a bit old?" If it was possible to spontaneously combust from all the blood rushing to your face, Bex was certainly going to find out tonight. "Whatever makes you happy, I guess. He looks pretty buff..."

She wished the fatality rate of school dances was higher and would just put her out of her misery already. "I- I don't like Jack, he's like sixteen, he's old-"

It's at this point that she's gently pushed forward towards Finnegan by Pericles as he walks past her. What purpose this serves, exactly, she's unsure of, but she shoots him an annoyed glance as he passes as if to say, traitor. And then, devastatingly, she takes her eyes off of him. There will likely be many things tonight that she won't be able to forgive herself for, and while the threads of fate are slippery and unpredictable at the best of times, there was a high chance that this would end up being at the top of her list. Pericles walks over to tentatively provide support to Jack, and Bex turns away from him, focusing on Finn.

Finnegan was as blowsy and insouciant as he always was, having come to the ball dressed in dark joggers and a hoodie. She couldn't exactly judge him for it, what with having come in her Halloween costume and all. Their outfits matched only by virtue of both of them being entirely unfit for the occasion at hand. She squinted, appraising the boy in front of her or, more specifically, his entirely unobstructed brown eyes. "Where's your mask? They're not supposed to let you in without one."

She remembers suddenly the spare in her bag and slides it off her shoulder and out from the dubious protection of her cape-wings, kneeling on the ground as she begins to rifle through her habitually messy belongings. That morning she'd received a fun little parcel in the post. She wasn't sure if it was a well-meaning gift from her dad, or if the same etsy store she'd ordered her moth mask from had sent her an extra mask by mistake, and her dad had just sent it along to her. It hadn't come with a note, so she figured it couldn't be too important. She already had a mask that matched her costume, though, so she'd just tossed it into her bag with all her other rubbish.

Now she brandished it proudly to Finn with a little "Ta-da!", holding out the crocodile mask for his perusal. Should he choose to take it, she would hand it over to him, but if he proved uninterested, she'd shrug and return it back to it's eternal slumber in the depths of her school things.

"Can you believe they're using the Quidditch Pitch for this? They even planted flowers on it, it's ru-"

It was then that Finnegan was rushed by a... friend? Acquaintance? Confused stranger? Bex wasn't sure, as the blonde boy called him 'Georgie' which was like, definitely not his name. Maybe it was a nickname she didn't know about? Could his middle name be George? If so, Finnegan George was a right awful name, and she'd feel terribly sorry for him on his behalf. Regardless, the blonde boy reached forward to presumably try and hug Finnegan, so clearly he thought the two of them were close, at least. Evelynn had said no kissing in case of slugs, whatever that meant, but hugging was probably fine. Bex would keep a good eye on it, though, and if the blonde boy tried to kiss Finn she would definitely try and, uh, stop that. Somehow.

There's a cry somewhere behind her of Pericles' name, and she begins to turn and see what the commotion is when Astra suddenly loses her entire mind.

Maybe the punch was spiked, or maybe the sheer lovecraftian incomprehensibility of not playing Quidditch on the Quidditch pitch had turned Astra feral. Whatever the reason - and where-ever the girl had come from, did she teleport in??? - the end result was very visibly clear, in that Astra attempted to tackle to misguided blonde boy like he was some sort of bomb she was attempting to suppress the explosion of with her body.

She rushed towards Astra, trying to take stock of the situation and remove her from it, if possible, seeing as there was a high probability that the poor girl had rabies. "Astra, what is wrong with you? I know we're all upset about Quidditch, but this is not an okay way to handle it."

Action: If Astra succeeds at tackling Gideon, Bex will attempt to pull her off of him. If she fails and falls on her ass, Bex will merely offer her a hand up. Sorry Finn if you get stabbed, girl does not know what's going on.

OPEN to interactions with anyone I've interacted with IC before and/or official NPCs/event organizers. All others, please owl me first.

sta: 8 | eva: 3 | str: 7 | wis: 4 | arc: 6 | acc: 7
Abilities: Perfectionist

Basil nodded. He was aware of Devon's figures intertwined with his. His hand felt sweaty but he hoped she couldn't feel that. How can she be so... perfect? I'm just a shy introverted kid. Basil thought looking at Devon as the afternoon light hit her.
"I-" Basil trailed off. He didn't really know what to do.
"Of course I'll apologize..." Basil agreed half-heartedly. Basil gently lifted up Devon's head so she could look into his eyes.
"Hey. Don't worry. Everything will be fine." Basil said hoping he had a reassuring smile on his face. Devon looked absolutely stunning. She looks even cuter when she plays with her hair! Basil thought. Basil looked around for a split second, realizing that there was a bit of chaos going on around him, with people tackling each other and digging into the dirt. The sun hasn't even gone down yet! Basil thought.
"Do you want to go into the ball?" Basil asked.
"You know, to get away from all the craziness and to finnaly enter." Basil said, pointing at the weird people around them. Basil bit his lip as he waited for her responce. He hoped that once he got into the ball he would be much less stressed. After all, there would be food and drinks so that would be nice. Basil smiled at Devon again. Time to see what is inside the ball! Basil thought.

Action: Walking into the ball (hopefully) not having to drag his date along with him
Stamina -6|Evasion -5|Strength -4|Wisdom -8|Arcane Power -5|Accuracy -7
Steady Flyer