A simple tan tent in a sea of multi-colored awnings and make-shift breezeways met the teen. The tent was 'nothing special' to look at, but as with many things in the wizarding world, things are rarely what they seem. Protective spells, wards or something of that nature had been applied to this and every tent according to their Head of House but she was not sure that she could trust that. Sleeping in her bag under the stars sounded more appealing, more witnesses if the death witches and part giants strike.

She did not intend to stay, but she was curious enough to enter before her 'tent-mates' arrived. The inside was, as advertised larger on the inside. A relatively humble space still, intended to occupy up to ten teens there was a large table in the center of a single large common space. A few cups, some cards. She was not the first student to arrive it would seem. The faint scent of butter beer or perhaps that was butterscotch candy. Trunks already strewn in the far corner, mismatched and likely belonging to those students that had arrived before her.

"Hello?" Erin called into the tent, not that there appeared to be any obvious hiding places but it was better to be safe than sorry she reasoned. No answer.




She stepped inside. The hard-packed dirt floor was covered with an array of mismatched carpets. She left her trunk near the entrance next to a bookshelf and placed her tan bedroll there as well. A potbellied stove and a small stack of wood that was bound by a cord. Fire was something that they likely should not trust the students with, but they were all capable of incendio, at the very least this fire could be contained. She knocked on it all the same, what if it was a midget giant transfigured? Nothing, just the clang of metal beneath her knuckles.

I would appear that there was an intended sleeping space, the area past the table. For whatever reason she half-expected there to be beds,the concept of 'roughing it' foreign to the pure-blood. The table, a gathering place intended to foster some semblance of social interaction. It was all fake, all of it. A sad truth the part-Veela knew. People pretended to be friendly because it was easier. Because it fed their ego. She had no want for pretend friends, she had her fill of that already.

Summer Thread for:

• @Jorah Moussa
• @Thomas LeStrange
• @Howard White
• @Erin Ryan
• @Geoffrey Ryan

If I have your permission I might have my NPCs use here if you do not invite others as a place to rest their head and give them a presence.

Little had Erin realized, but perhaps some of the others had. This was a gathering of social misfits, a group of students who had been isolated from the rest of the student body for whatever reason. Known more for the trouble they caused, less one Jorah Moussa. Perhaps a sacrificial lamb, a 'good influence' to convert these heathens. Perhaps an oversight, the relatively 'good guy' was more bookish than violent. The most significant thing he was known for was the kidnapping attempt against him and the fact that he was a member of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team.

Oh wait...

There is a connection. A connection only the House Elves could make then they wrote out this assignment, pairing this boy not with his teammates but rather with a group of deviants and suspected deviants. On the table there was a slip of paper, the girl would snatch it up and read it over. A list of names, the names of the students intended to reside in these tents. Her jaw clenched,she recognized a few of the names but not all. Her brother was going to be sharing their tent. The near cripple he was, he lacked her fortitude and was ill more often than he was well. She had expected him to be housed with a bunch of girls that would fawn over him for the next two weeks. No such luck for him, he was paired with a dangerous dhampir (assumed to know this by now but willing to edit if I am wrong) and a hag... She was not entirely sure of what Thomas was, but it was not good. Jorah, she was indifferent to. Some Ravenclaw nerd that played Quidditch. She might have to kick his ass for being a nerd and a rival, but he was a low priority. The others, not a damned clue who any of them were.

Disgusted she slapped the paper face down onto the table and took another look around. Not a chance in hell she was going to leave Geoffrey here with them.. She opened her chest reassessed the contents:

12 bottles of Butterbeer
6 bottles of Firewhiskey
Dried Meat (unknown animal) Jerky
18 tank tops
10 pairs of shorts
5 pair of pants
2 sweaters
1 dress
toiletries
undergarments that will remain undescribed
1 unlit candle
1 lockpicking knife
2 wizard tight
2 brooms (the trunk is also larger on the inside)
2 sets Running shoes
1 set sandals
3 pillows
1 bathing suit
1 wand
sum of galleons
1 notebook
1 quill
1 jar of ink
bandages
A large canvas sheet
30 feet of rope
4 metal (not wood, no worries Howard) stakes

She was prepared to tent alone in her own humble, make-shift tent, trunk and bedroll. It would have been more enjoyable, safer and perhaps even pleasant. But she knew that Geoffrey was going to stay, the foolish social butterfly that he was. He would see spending time with the unstable duo (Howard and Thomas) as an opportunity somehow. Then they would turn his bones into past and she would be short a somewhat adequate brother.

She would gather the cards on the table and stack them into a neat pile. She would start to play a game of solitaire and wait for the rest to arrive.

Howard combed the festival grounds in search of the tent to which he was assigned. The sun was out and blazing down on him. One hand would drag his luggage as the other pulled his protective cloak tighter around him. Occasionally he would pause, look down at the piece of parchment before his head swung around on a swivel. The cursing would start soon after. Whose stupid idea was tents anyways?!

Soon enough the teenaged Dhampir would find his destination. A simple looking tent, rather bland compared to some of the others in the area. Howard wasn’t one for flair anyways. Anxious to get out of the sun he hurried towards it and made his way inside. The lack of sunlight was an instant relief as he shrugged his shoulders to allow the cloak to slip off his body. It wouldn’t take but a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new environment.

“Shit.” A simple statement of protest as she came into view. Erin Ryan. No matter what Howard did it seemed impossible for them to stay out of each others lives. The truth was that they were bonded in some sick and twisted way, but that surely didn’t mean they had to be friendly about it. “You again?”

With a sigh of resignation he regathered his things and made his way towards the table. Looking around Howard wouldn’t see any form of bedding, looks like the roll he brought with him was all the comfort he would receive these couple of weeks. Whatever spot he claimed for sleeping could be dealt with later. For now, he would cast his belongs aside and plop down into a chair opposite of Erin.

The only upside to this situation is that the tent had the smell of butter beer and his sensitive nose would detect that there was plenty more where that came from. Whatever Erin might be, at least she wasn’t a prude. They could at least drink in peace. Well...until the fighting started anyways.

“You got somethin’ to drink?” No need for pleasantries. As he awaited her answer, his eyes would be drawn to a piece of parchment on the table. On it would be a list of the other tent mates. “Fuckin’ hell. This’ll be fun.” Howard said with a sarcastic tone as he rolled his eyes and flung the paper back down on the table.

Howard would be the first to enter. The pallid nocturnal creature was cloaked, for most it would be a dramatic gesture but in Howard's case it was a necessity. The corner of Erin's mouth would twitch upward, a smirk as she witnessed the teen's predicament. She forgot how dhampirs hated the sunlight, hilarious.

"Shit."

Howard complained. He thrust off his cloak and made himself at home. Like a disgruntled husband coming home after a long day in the coal mines, remembering he hated his wife and contemplating a return to the mines for a bit of peace.

“You again?”

"Love you too dear," she replied sarcastically and gave the air a kiss. It was never a good idea to antagonize Howard, but the girl lacked a reasonable sense of fear and moreover he was a source of diversion. Oddly enough, she preferred Howard to most. Devil you know. It was the people that pretended to be kind that concerned her, Howard might be a lot of things but at least he was honest.

“You got somethin’ to drink?”

She answered his question, more a request without the please and thank you with a question of her own. "Parents did not want you to go home or you did not want to head home?" Takes one to know one. She slid over a bottle of fire whisky. [Check your inventory] Hers did not want her, being away at school for most of the year was not enough. She did not resent her father, if she had the sentiment that briefly possessed her faculties she would lament her freedom. In truth, she did not give a crap.

His eye caught the roster --

“Fuckin’ hell. This’ll be fun.”

"Yeah," unlike Howard, Erin actually meant that. "Just be glad that we are out of class. Not dealing with the Prefects or the Profs. I could use a few days of f'cking peace."

🂡 🂢 🂣 🂤 🂥 🂦 🂧 🂨 🂩 🂪 🂫 🂬 🂭 🂮
🂱 🂲 🂳 🂴 🂵 🂶 🂷 🂸 🂹 🂺 🂻 🂼 🂽 🂾
🃁 🃂 🃃 🃄 🃅 🃆 🃇 🃈 🃉 🃊 🃋 🃌 🃍 🃎
🃑 🃒 🃓 🃔 🃕 🃖 🃗 🃘 🃙 🃚 🃛 🃜 🃝 🃞



She would slide the cards on the table into a pile in front of her. With a few taps, a nice neat stack. "You play?" She waited for him to take a drink, she gave him a sealed bottle. There was no way in hell she would accept an opened bottle from him, she would expect no different from him. "Or would you rather try to kick my ass on day one," it would be mutually-ensured destruction if it came to blows between them. He was stronger, perhaps technically she was stronger but she did not have claws or teeth. his aversion to daylight would be a weakness she could easily exploit but she was also filled with delicious blood. As for allies, she had Geoffrey but he was next to useless -if- he even showed. He had Thomas, the love-lorn merman was more a wildcard than a steadfast ally. He was as likely to propose to the Hufflepuff as he was to stab him in the back. The boy was pure chaos.

"Never played with muggle cards," she admitted. "Payment for the happy juice, teach me a game?" She had seen some muggle-borns with these curious bits of paper, sometimes wagers of candy or small coin. Sometimes nothing. She was not sure why or what the difference was. She flipped over a card, a queen. The picture was still. She frowned. It does not move," she observed. Queer. She would slide the deck of cards with silent insistence towards Howard.

14
46
26
13
35
19
28
16
12
21
17
32
1
27
11
8
23
15
45
4
2
22
51
40
39
18
41
31
49
9
30
34
52
37
6
7
5
3
29
38
50
44
10
36
47
20
24
25
42
33
43
48

Did a randomized 1-52 for cards. Could care less if we know what the cards will be.

To what do we owe an appearance from Lestrange? A summer camp that was highlighted by social events was hardly his cup of tea. The truth is, the boy would do anything to further delay his homecoming to his distraught mother. One of the most valuable skills he has learned over his tenure, suppressing his emotions. The less he considered his mother, the less the sting from unsurmountable guilt. The guilt from his absence and radio silence. Not to mention the questionable path he traveled, steadily worsening at every turn.

Thomas would pass the various tents spread throughout the fields that neighbored the quidditch stadium. The sun already split in half at the horizon, a cool breeze arriving with the looming darkness. A soft squelch from his boots, trunk in one hand, and a written reference for his assigned tent in his dominant left. With the visibility lessening, and the similar shaped tents that spread along the trail between them, Thomas began to get frustrated with his search.

The squelch of his boots became more aggressive, as he would scamper in circles until unfolding part of the written tent guide, revealing a corresponding number. The tents were in order, Thomas just needing to know how to count to arrive at his assigned tent. Rest assured, he could count.

Fortune favors the bold, they say. Bullshit. Thomas has been bold, and horribly unfortunate. Upon his entrance to the assigned tent, Thomas would come across the likes of Erin Ryan. Whichever school official elected the pairings for these tents, they ought to be fired. A pairing of Thomas and Erin had no business coming into existence, the two don’t go a moment without harsh verbal criticism, or Erin testing learnt mixed martial moves on his face, likely made possible by watching too much tape on ‘Rowdy’ Rousey.

He would hardly take note of the collection of rugs along the floor, resembling an antique Native American rugs store. Nor would he marvel at the vast interior, that did not align with the outside proportions. Oh, right, magic. He would just stare endlessly at Erin, joined only by Howard at the table. Were they...playing cards over a drink? “Nope.” Thomas announced, doing a complete one-eighty to exit the tent. Just like that, he was gone.

After leaving the tent, Thomas would do his best impression of what is known as a Karen. He located another party a few tents down, pacing around the various tents. This person was much taller than Thomas, giving him the impression it was an adult. He tracked this person down, who turned out to be a woman.[faceless NPC]. “Pardon, there’s been a mix up. The tent I was assigned to was full…” Of shit. He wasn’t lying, the combined egos needed the spacing of a mansion, not a single room. A smug smirk stained this woman’s lips. “They do not make mistakes, no tent is over capacity. Perhaps you would like to spend your night in a cell?” Thomas narrowed his eyes with a scoff, turning away dismissively. “Do be quick, curfew is near.”

Just like that, he was back. Thomas entered the tent containing Howard, and Erin. He silently dragged his feet towards an empty bed, setting his trunk at the foot of the bed. Fingers grasped the sides to click it open, reaching inside for a flask of firewhiskey. Perhaps he could drink enough to forget Erin was there, only to do it all over again the next morning.

Flask in hand, the boy drifted over to the table, sitting a few chairs down from where the others were seated. With a huff, he slouched back into his chair, a harsh thud arrived when he plopped his boots atop the table. Perhaps it shook the table, making the cards flop around out of place.[Up to you.] He then cast a long and slow glare at Erin before taking a sip from his flask. “Howard.” The boy nodded at the dhampir respectfully. “Seems we’ve been dealt a bad hand.” Oh yes, first blood dealt with a card pun. “Unless this was organized. Wouldn’t put it past her, she’s trending to be the obsessive type.” He timed another sip from his flask, maintaining his glare at Ryan. “What are we playing, then?”

@Thomas Lestrange @Erin Ryan

Howard just rolled his eyes as Erin made her comments accompanied by a kissy face. Always one to poke at the fire. Would have been a tempting offer if the beautiful exterior didn’t house such a twisted mind. Nonetheless, he would sit down with a smirk on face. Howard had put up his usual wall when he saw her, but there was always something about her presence that was...comforting? No, surely not, but the familiarity brought an ease. He knew exactly who and what he was dealing with.

Howard grabbed the bottle with a nod before twisting the cap or popping the cork. Erin’s question would almost have him spew the large pull he had just taken. His forearm would swipe across the mouth to catch the little bit of liquor that leaked from his lips. “Good god, no!” Howard proclaimed after a bitter laugh. A feeble attempt to hide the nervous look that flickered across his face. His parents surely didn’t want him back as much as he didn’t want to be back. Only two more weeks though and he would have no choice.

Fortunately, Erin would change the subject. “Can’t argue with you there, Erin. It’ll be nice to have ‘em off our back for a bit.” Howard didn’t share her paranoia about student and staff alike, but he couldn’t deny that the campground had a much more relaxing atmosphere than school. No Professors roaming the halls, no snotty little Prefects reprimanding you for every minor infraction of the rules. What could possibly go wrong?

”Cards?” His eyes fell to the deck she laid out before them. “Yeah, I’ve played before. It’s been a while...” Again, another bitter laugh, more a bark, would interrupt his speech as she offered an alternative form of entertainment. It had been quite sometime since their last fight. Whenever the two scrapped they both left bloodied. The thought was interesting though. One thing he would remember was her brute strength, someone always ate their Wheaties, but he too had grown much more powerful. It would be less a fight and more like two Mack trucks slamming into each other at high speed. Another time perhaps. “Does sound fun but we have only just arrived. Surely we can make it through one day before the beatings start.” The last would be said as he flicked the cap/cork across the table at her.

“So, you want to learn a game?...Yeah, Erin, of course they don’t move. You just said they are Muggle cards. I’m surprised they haven’t burnt a whole in your precious Pureblooded hands. Now, pay attention. Deal out seven cards to me and seven cards to you. We’re gonna play a game called Go Fish.” Howard would tap the table with one of his nails, signaling that she should start.

However, the sound of disturbed canvas would draw his attention as he half turned in his chair to see what was next. “Lestrange...” Howard would get no further before Thomas did his best about-face and stormed out of the tent. He turned back to Erin and simply shrugged before tapping the table again. A few moments would pass as he took another sip of Whiskey and waited for Erin to deal. Again, the flaps of the tent would...flap.

This occurrence would only warrant a lazy turn of his head as his eyes shot over his shoulder. Thomas was back. Howard offered no further greeting but simply just watched him as he discarded his things and sat. Boots against table top would clearly show how he felt about the situation. The angsty teenaged way of say I don’t want to do this.

“Thomas.” Howard replied before another eye roll. “Cheeky fuck.” The last said under his breath as Lestrange began the conversation with a pun. Speaking up again, “Oh...come on now. Obsessive type? Erin? Surely not. Just a little fucked in the head is all, but at least she brought booze to share.” With a swipe of his arm, Howard would attempt to knock Thomas’ feet off the table. Successful or not he would say, “Join us, Lestrange. I’m about to teach Erin the intricacies of Go Fish. Played it before?”

She could be charming, she just never gave enough fucks to bother. Charming was a nice way of saying 'liar' as far as she was concerned. She could be one hell of a liar if she wanted to be, but to a girl that only wanted to live - to actually live she needed a real world to exist within. She was alive surely but she was not living. No spark, no joy. Or sorrow or fear for that matter. Where Howard was an endless stream of angst and rage formerly hidden beneath a passive, pleasing edifice, Erin was a force of nature if chaos was intelligent.

She was curious. Curious about the change in him that was as much physical as it was behavioral. It was not that she did not see this side of him, she always knew it was there hidden beneath the surface. She did not miss his expression when she brought up his parents. His love for his mother was profound, she knew because she had felt the warmth and the tightness. It was not passion, but compassion. It was what an embrace would be if it was merely a feeling. A smile in a bottle. A promise for a tomorrow today. Knowledge that one was not alone, wanted. It went beyond fulfilling a biological need. Beyond satisfying a carnal drive. It was something that she could not put into words even if she knew all of them.

Why the fuck wouldn't you want to go home?

A question left unasked for now. It was not her problem and even if in some twisted way they could have been friends she lacked the capacity to develop such a sentiment. He was better a tool or a toy than a friend. Friends lie more.

Moving on.

“Can’t argue with you there, Erin. It’ll be nice to have ‘em off our back for a bit.”

The Professors. The Prefects. "All this free time without detention," she shook her head. "I might dare to be productive." She had every intention of making these weeks exceedingly productive, starting with Howard.

“Does sound fun but we have only just arrived. Surely we can make it through one day before the beatings start.”

A game of cards, a diversion to delay the inevitable conflict between them. They required a distraction, a reason to not fill the time with bloodshed. Simply put, they both craved it. An outlet for him, a way to express his interminable rage and for her an excuse to feel something, even if it was pain. Erin had went full circle, returning to the place where she had started where Howard had broken free of the cycles that defined him. "The fighting is my favorite part," no lie.

“So, you want to learn a game?...Yeah, Erin, of course they don’t move. You just said they are Muggle cards. I’m surprised they haven’t burnt a whole in your precious Pureblooded hands. Now, pay attention. Deal out seven cards to me and seven cards to you. We’re gonna play a game called Go Fish.”

She let out a soundless scoff, her shoulders lifted and lowered. "Slumming it as they say,"[/b] she replied. Almost civil. There was no attempt to hide their animosity or distrust, the promise of likely violence at a later time. They were honestly teetering of the edge of a knife where any upset could result in calamity. If 'trouble' had another name, it would be Thomas. He lacked Howard's fearsome presence, a walking disaster in the guise of a teenage boy.

Erin had the deck of cards in hand, about to deal the seven into Howard's claws when she froze. She lacked Howard's tolerance of Thomas. Howard was dangerous but he wore what he was on his sleeve, she preferred him to Thomas for that reason. Thomas played a longer game, rife with lies or the allowance of them to reach an ends. It made her ability to grasp reality as she knew it difficult because there was one truth, perhaps multiple perspectives but in the end facts are facts. The fact that he knew about Jack. The fact that he had lured her to the hags of the forbidden wood. Jack, the two-faced calumniator he was, she endeavored to protect without knowing he was not who she thought he was. A cruel ruse perpetuated by Burnett but allowed to come to pass by LeStrange who could have put a stop to it months earlier.

She could not feel shame for gaffe although she should have. Nor could she feel the boiling indignation that one would feel when the world mocks one for what they lack, what they fail to apprehend, the mistakes that they make. No, her quarrel with him is the hope she had that was quashed. Hope that would have barely existed had she not been allowed to consider the possibility of ardor from another person. Not that it was his fault, but he he knew and therefore he was just as much to blame.

Not all discontent was fully logical, but her resentment towards LeStrange had been earned. Even in the absence of the passion they take for granted she understood the concept of anger and hate. The want for revenge. About face. Thomas was gone. "Some good news," she commented as the Slytherin left the tent faster than he entered. She took a gulp of her bottle, the heat felt on the back of her throat as it traveled down her gullet and into her belly. "Good riddance," she coughed. Her eyes focused on the cards, deal. Yes, that was what she was doing.

She would start to deal the cards in response to an impatient claw tapping the table. Alright... alright... she mouthed as she started to slide the cards across the table face-down. She counted the cards under her breath, her mouth moved with the words one... two... three...

Thomas would return, Erin would scowl. Her pretty features present, but a look of disgust was displayed prominently on her face. "Can't I just borrow your boyfriend for a little while," she complained as he made himself at home. His luggage on the floor, his smelly boots on the table.

“Howard.”

The boy only had eyes for Howard. The bromance of the year, and as one-sided as perhaps her affection towards Parce.

“Seems we’ve been dealt a bad hand.”

The Mr. Freeze of Hogwarts with his bad puns.

“Unless this was organized. Wouldn’t put it past her, she’s trending to be the obsessive type.”

"Says the guy whose been following Howard around like a lost dog," Erin bit back. It did not take much to antagonize her but she was seeking to wrestle control of the conversation from Thomas rather than be led by it this time. When he took out a flask and took a sip, she hoped he had brought a hell of a lot more with him. If the whisky goggles were thick enough he might be tolerable, or unconscious. She did not care which.

“Oh...come on now. Obsessive type? Erin? Surely not. Just a little fucked in the head is all, but at least she brought booze to share.”

She took a hearty gulp from her bottle, enough to make her brain shift a bit in her skull. She was going to need it. "Damn, that was the nicest thing I think you have ever said about me," a truth. She let the bottle rest on the table, her hand on the neck. She did not trust LeStrange to not rattle the table again with his antics. But obsessive was an accurate statement. When she had a goal, she pursued it with her everything.

“What are we playing, then?”

"Cards," she answered. Erin had already forgotten the name of the game, if there really was a game called Go Fish. The bluntness of her reply suggested she was no inebriated enough to tolerate his presence.

“Join us, Lestrange. I’m about to teach Erin the intricacies of Go Fish. Played it before?”

Apparently Howard was a helluva lot drunker than Erin was, he invited the ass to play. She let out an audible sigh, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. "Surely he is busy skinny dipping with some saggy old hag," she complained attempting to dismiss him from his own tent. Although the name of the game was fitting for a boy such as LeStrange with a Trident Scar on his upper arm.

Assuming he sat, knowing he was not welcome:

Erin would scowl and take a large gulp from her bottle, she was going to need it. "I hope you find no fish," she muttered not as quietly as she thought she had. She did not recall any fish in the deck, just numbers, the letter A and some faces. One... two... three...

She would deal Thomas a hand.

Erin's Hand 14: Ace of Hearts 46: 7 of clubs 26: King of hearts 13: King of spades 35: 9 of diamonds 19: 6 of hearts 28: 2 of diamonds

Howard's Hand 16: 3 of hearts 12: Queen of spades 21: 8 of hearts 17: 4 of hearts 32: 6 of diamonds 1: ace of spades 27: ace of diamonds

Thomas' Hand 11: Jack of spades 8: 8 of spades 23: 10 of hearts 15: 2 of hearts 45: 6 of clubs 4: 4 of spades 2: 2 of spades

"OK," she announced as the last card slid across the table to LeStrange, their third wheel. "What next Howard?"

Created a very simple set-up for cards, randomized 1-52. Dealt us each 7 from the top. Used the strike function to designate. I looked up the unicode for cards, should work on all devices. They can be enlarged to up to 200 font which still looks rather small but if you want them you can use them. If we "go fish" just grab off the top of the random list spoilered. The cards are more an excuse than the actual thread anyways, so I could care less if you cheat.

Beneath a voluminous hooded robe, the twisted carriage of a tall, thin boy would enter the tent. He carried with him a single piece of luggage, hardly suitable for a week worth of wares but like many things in magic, it was bigger on the inside. He did not address the three at the table, rather he let out a grunting noise to respond to their presence with a nod. He did not make eye contact, his gaze cast on the ground he would find a corner of the tent far from the card playing deviants. A chick, a well-known asshole and some guy he did not want to piss off if he wanted to enjoy what little health he had.

He took from his bag a bedroll. It was thick and brown, he appeared burdened by the very weight of the sleeping bag. Nice and smooth. Next a small oil lamp, one that he would light with his wand and place on the floor next to him. Not the the tent was dark, he just wanted more light. Then a book. A small blue hardcover book that he would rest on his knees. It was one of those muggle classics Vlad had slipped him at St. Mungos he had never gotten the chance to finish reading.

I am not really here to RP, I am just making an appearance so people know where I rested my head. I will do periodic rare posts as him you might glean something from but nothing ultimately significant.

Vladimir was a rather iconic figure in Hogwarts at this point. It took a great deal of investment to choose his tent. Most children did, a tent filled with friends. He got an invitation, one. To a tent with a girl that hated him, set him up. He knew that accepting the invitation. Ultimately it worked to his advantage, it tethered Marion and Victor to him so tightly he never had to fear a betrayal from them again. He was going to need them in the coming days.

He would enter the tent through swinging flaps. He would look over at the card game in progress and sniff the air. Cheap booze. He let out a quiet laugh. He wanted to keep an eye on the petulant second year. He lacked strength and proved to be nothing more than an agent of chaos. He had nothing to gain from the enemies he had made or the alliances he had forfeited. A curiosity.

"Vic," he addressed his friend and held his hand up as if to silence any incoming questions sent his direction. "Becoming more and more like a Ravenclaw every day," he let out a laugh and took a seat next to him. "I feel like a muggle," he craned his head and took a look at the book Victor was reading. "The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas," he narrated. "A good read," he added. Of course it was, he gave him the book. "I also recommend Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë," he was a Ravenclaw so of course he was well-read.

He took a seat next to Victor, his suitcase at his feet. A rather ornate, locked box that required more than a simple unlocking charm to open. A complex arrray of actions and he would open the lid, pull out his own bed roll and then wordlessly take Victor's entire suitcase and drop it into his chest. "I would like to avoid another untimely theft," he smiled.

I am not really here to RP, I am just making an appearance so people know where I rested my head. I will do periodic rare posts as him you might glean something from but nothing ultimately significant.

Geoffrey stepped through the mud with a sigh, trunk at his side. He'd arrived late which was typical of his Father, but nonetheless unbothered. For at least he'd finally get to spend some more time with his peers. After his rather abrupt departure from school he'd been eager to return. Now that his parents were sure there would be no risk with him returning. With their concerns eased he could now return & begin implementing his plans for his future. During his time away he'd spent a great deal of his time determining what he wanted from his time at Hogwarts. Now he just had to ensure he 'collected' the right people to make that happen.

On such an extended stay together the opportunity to find worthy subjects would be ideal. Being able to study those around him & in such close proximity was simply an opportunity he could not pass up. Lifting up his trunk he pulled out his wand & would cast Scourgify on his trunk. Then upon each of his shoes as he entered the tent, not that he suspected any of the other tenants would have such decency. Upon entering he was surprised to see his sister, then again given his official reason for being away had been for health reasons that was not a surprise. Perhaps the school believed it best she be here to watch over him? It was a relief for he had an unexpected ally for his stay.

"Sister, I hope you've been well." he'd say with a warm smile before his gaze moved over the other faces present. He recognized only one other a youth named Lestrange. "Lestrange, I see you're still on edge in Erin's presence." the boy would say with a smirk before making his way over to an unclaimed area & placing his trunk down. Much like the other storage items here his own trunk was much larger on the inside. It contained various clothes, some spare shoes & a series of items to help him pass the time by. Make his studies slightly less dull. Some of these included his Wizard's Chess set, Firewhisky (in a flask), Pepper Imps, a Magical Candle & some books to read should he find the time.

Lastly there was his Sleeping Bag which he would take from the trunk & unfurl in the area he intended to claim as his own. After doing this he would remove his Magical Candle & place it beside his Sleeping Bag leaving it floating there. Taking out his flask of Fire Whisky & his Pepper Imps placing both onto his Sleeping Bag before closing the lid of his trunk. Taking off his jacket to reveal a suit vest underneath & string tie bow. He'd place the jacket on top of his closed trunk before placing the flask of Fire Whisky into one of his vest pockets & the Pepper Imps into another pocket.

He'd remove his wand from the jacket pocket he'd had it in & clipped it onto a clasp designed to hold the wand. It was close to his dominant hand & easy to retrieve should he need it. Standing he'd give a nod to the two who seemed uninterested in the group, at least for now. Before turning his attention to the table, approaching it he'd smile devilishly & say "I see, already so bored you've resorted to Muggle games for entertainment..." here they were free to their own devices & they'd chosen to play some Muggle game. It was a stark contrast to the events Geoffrey was accustomed too. He felt his books calling to him but he'd learn nothing about what drove them if he let such things deter him. No whether for better or worse he would not object to such uses of time.

Besides if they were occupied it could allow for him to make a Tea. That was something he'd been looking forward to ever since he'd had to walk through the sea of tents to find this one. He lacked the physical fortitude many of his peers possessed, as such he'd very much felt the chill of the London air. But he had to deal with formalities before he could start getting comfortable & making his tea.

Chaos was inevitable, a byproduct of any mass school function such as summer camp. The organizers, likely a combination of London-based ministry officials, clearly with a touch of advice from the educational leaders at Hogwarts. How else was one to explain the group in this tent. The few, the proud, the deplorables. Surely brought together to confine the dubious few into one tent. Time would tell if this was to be an effective strategy.

Like a lost dog, she says. “You’re here too. Oh, and the last time.” The boy lifted a hand dramatically as if he made a rare discovery, poking a hole in her barb. Where Howard was, Erin was shortly behind. Apathetic icy blue eyes glazed over , removing his feet from the table and repositioning himself to a new chair aside Howard after an invitation to play. One chance.

Being raised by his muggle mother, surrounded by muggles at muggle institutions, of course Thomas knew the game, go fish. In addition to many other card games he would prefer over it. His chin would lower with widening eyes. Go. Fucking. Fish. Thomas would avoid to comment, but the visual more than confirmed his dissatisfaction with the choice of entertainment. Though he would not be so quick to alienate Howard, opting to avoid a two on one scenario when things travel south.

Perhaps that would change, as a pair of entrances perked his interest. Giving the fresh meat the side eye, he watched as they made themselves at home, or at tent. Not the hooded boy, but the older Raven to follow, he immediately recognized. Was it merely a coincidence Thomas arrived in the same tent as Vladimir following his choice to assist at the ball? It was hard to determine, but if true, the amount of pull he must have knew no bounds. Thomas eyed the boy curiously before his attention was demanded back to the part-veela.

"Surely he is busy skinny dipping with some saggy old hag, I hope you find no fish,"

Har-har. Once again, though unintentionally, Erin endangered the boy’s agenda. Things may have materialized heretofore, but the boy would have to be careful to ensure he is not compromised. A string of intensive thought was born, the gears in his mind turned to form a plan. Thomas reluctantly grasped the hand of cards from the girl. “I’ll pass on skinny dipping with you, thanks.” Thomas lifted his brows with a gentle huff , if there had been a fire it would’ve cracked from that burn.

"Lestrange, I see you're still on edge in Erin's presence."

A vaguely familiar voice broke the ever growing aggression, Thomas turned to see the unmistakable smirk of Erin’s better half. Denoted by his one visible sapphire eye, the other concealed by the trademark eye-patch[assuming so]. A welcome addition to this poopy party. Thomas’ eyes lit up briefly to express his approval. “Preferred Ryan. I see you’re still...breathing.” His tone trended to curiosity, to see Geoffrey so sparsely was peculiar. “How you’ve lasted all these years amongst her is beyond me.” He motioned to a chair beside him. “Save us.”