Reaching Boiling Point PV Rafael Closed

Fighting with @Rafael D'Spacito

He recovered faster than she might have hoped, although she supposed it was no less than she should have expected. Evelynn knew full well just how much of a beating her Captain was able to take and still plow stubbornly forward as though nothing had happened. She'd seen him take bludgers, seen him fall from his broom, watched him collide head-long into opposition attempting to knock them from their brooms with the impact. Every time, he would emerge with little more than a disgruntled expression and a fire in his eyes that demanded more. It was no different on this occasion.

As soon as he snapped up his wand, Evelynn skittered backward. The tip was in her face for only a second before she had put several feet between them, knowing full well that although she was lucky on this occasion, his next casting might not be quite so epic of a flop. Did her retreat paint her in a compromised light that suggested she fear what he was capable of? Perhaps. Was she about to put arrogance and chance ahead of caution and risk going up in flame a second later should he attempt again? Not a chance.

But to be cautious and cowardly were not one and the same. True, she had deflated somewhat. The memory of Jo in the common room under the influence of the laced chocoball was not one in which she revelled. It had been an embarrassment for the girl for having had her autonomy stripped away, as well as for Evelynn for having made the mistake in the first place. The judgement thrashed at her under the penetrating gaze of her Captain only served to accentuate that point. He had every right to be mad. She was his friend. It was only reasonable that he would wish to protect her and defend her honour. His glare placed a heavy burden upon her chest, a weight that made it hard to breathe.

"I told her I was sorry.." she tried to say again, chewing on her lip, brows furrowed.

Her hackles were rising once again. Unreasonably so, her rational mind tried to say. She was finding it difficult not to feel defensive under his unrelenting scrutiny. In fact, it was more than a little annoying. Why bring it up in the first place if he was just going to be silent about it when she tried to explain herself? In fact, it wasn't even his business in the first place. Not really. Friend or not. It was between her and Jo. She'd given her pardons. Tried to make reparations. She didn't need to explain herself to idiot friends as well who weren't even there to understand the situation or what had happened.

"You know what, it's none of y—"

Evelynn had begun to snap back, more than a little miffed with just how seething with rage his words had been uttered. But she stopped herself. What… did she do? What the heck was that supposed to mean? That made it sound like he didn't know. But then, he'd just brought it up… hadn't he? Annoyance and anger flickered and faltered, fading from her countenance to be replaced with a puzzled expression.

"What do you—" she had been about to seek clarification, still intent to try to rectify this situation with words.

Until he cast. This time, she was not so lucky. Eyes widened and heart kicked into gear the moment the little floret of light appeared at the tip of his wand. It wasn't going to fail this time. Wasn't going to backfire. Apparently the buffoon actually could cast a spell successfully, and this one was about to be directed right at her. True to the seeker that she was, however, she was quick. Not just in thought, but in action. As the growing flame shot forward, casting the interior of the stand's underbelly in stark relief, Evelynn dodged. Her graceful pivot took her full circle, stopping only once she was facing him again.

"Uncouth utter PILLOCH!" She shrieked. Her patience had worn no nothing. Face contorting into an incensed rage that rivalled D'Spacito's, she snapped her own wand to levy in his direction. The sphere of fire had barely exploded against the scaffolding behind her before she had performed her own fine wand-work and venomously chanted, "Flipendo!"

At this point, it was self-defence. She'd only wanted to talk. Had tried to simply get his attention to urge him to work through this discriminatory attitude like a man. But. Apparently her hopes had been too lofty. It seemed, that for all his big talk and tough game, he was but a boy. A cowardly, brainless, trigger-happy moron. Haloed by the smoulder of the flame that took to the wooden support beams, a heat erupted in her own belly to mirror the fire in her eyes. If a fight was what he wanted, to the point of putting her own safety into question, then a fight was what he was going to get.

Action: Casts Flipendo at Rafael

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Interacting With: @Evelynn Decipio
Mentioning: Wren Caster • Jo Morgan
Hex Color: #800000

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"Uncouth utter PILLOCH!"

Well, Eve was angry, screaming in a language Rafael couldn’t, for the sake of all that was holy, understand. He supposed it didn’t matter what she was saying – finally, it seemed as if his blatantly offensive actions were justified. After all, the boy had finally released the monster within his co-captain, and that monster was beautiful, a perfect picture of disharmony and chaos – her face was contorted in perfect anger, her wand raised, dispelling in one word the spell that would turn the tables of the fight. The Flippendo whistled past the Captain, his hair disturbed and falling into the face of the boy as it startled the air and pierced the bleachers behind him. Missed by a hair, but even so, it was a hair that had left an impression.

For it was then, that Rafael finally realized what he’d gotten himself into – Evelynn was smart, that was no secret, but her spells? The raw power she’d exhibited was nothing less than intimidating, dangerous, deadly to one with such disregard for his classes and spell application. The Captain had brewed a dangerous potion of factors, ranging from the powerful wandwork possessed by his adversary, to the anger she so shamelessly expressed across her features – it was because of this, that the anger that had consumed the boy seemed to dissipate for a small moment, replaced with a spark of fear, a sense of caution, a careful look quickly spawning on the boy’s face as he took a step back, eyes hard and narrowed upon the redhead. He wasn’t the type to back out of a sticky situation, but even so, he might have set himself up for failure, and a painful one at that. The universe had a way of pitching him against the worse of enemies, a curse that gave him no relief. He could only hope for the best, pray to all that was good that he would live to survive the horror story he had pitched upon himself.

However, in the midst of extreme circumstances, came enlightenment – had he been wrong to pursue justice through violence? Perhaps. But even if he walked away with a bunch of bruises and burns, he could at least take with him one small victory – he’d finally provoked the monster within his opponent, discovered a chink in her mighty social armour. It was an obscure weakness, sure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t target it with all the hate power he could muster. It would be something he would carry with him everywhere, from casual conversation to the headmaster’s office. Evelynn had enemies, right? His health was a small price to pay. And he was going to feel fiery karma regardless. The very idea sparked a small smile on his face, and the boy couldn’t help but look down, shielding his mischievous eyes from his adversary. We can both go to hell, he decided. It’ll just hurt her more.

Moving forward, it was difficult to say that he had an ounce of leverage to take with him in the current situation he found himself in – after all, there were no witnesses to the illegal duel, nor bruises to share with the nurse as evidence. The monster was only rearing its ugly head, so to speak, a monster only the boy could currently see. Which prompted another thought – anger may have drawn it out, but would anger maintain its presence? It was hard to tell. However, if he wanted to salvage a good story, he had to choose his actions wisely going forward. Rather than seek revenge through violence and angry dispute, his focus would now be trained on stealing away her reputation. An act that would require a level head – a feature the boy had used before in several conversations, but never one regarding the safety of his beloved friends. Oh, how easy it would be, to aimlessly attack his adversary. It would surely be difficult, in the least, to walk away unscathed. Even so, he wouldn’t go down without a fight. A verbal one would have to suffice for now.

Level head. Yeah, okay. Worth a try. Cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck, the Captain adjusted his stance into something more versatile, loose, casual. Then, taking a quick moment to spin his wand about his fingers, he leaned forward, his gaze a mixture of anger and antagonizing wryness as he raised an eyebrow in feigned arrogance. “So, this is what happens when you push the big red button,” he mused aloud in a very Tony-Stark-esque voice, shooting his co-captain an unimpressed look. “Trigger-happy much, Mary Jane? Guess that’s my fault.” Redhead editors aside, he shrugged, pointing the tip of his wand at the girl. “Guilty! What can I say? Avenging Wren and Jo is much more enjoyable when the moron that fucked with them fights back.” A blatant insult, supported with little backbone. But then again, the words weren’t meant to be valid – rather, they were meant to provoke anger or a sense of injustice within his enemy. She thought she was right, so why not use her ideals against her? He was obviously outmatched, after all. Bringing his monologue to a close, he tapped his face, arrogance painted all over his features. “Try to aim at me this time?”

Finished in his ill attempts to stir anger within the co-captain, he would offer her an evil smirk, before uttering the words that would surely, one way or another, define the next few moments of the illegal duel. It was funny, because only moments ago, his focus had been on inflicting physical harm on the girl – however, having finally activated his smart thinking, he had come to the conclusion that whether or not he missed, didn’t really matter. He only wanted to provoke her, give her a reason to attack him back. She was a smart girl, but acting on a whim never got anyone anywhere – it was foolish to think he could outsmart the girl, but even so, her actions were clouded by the outrage of the injustice she was being dealt. Would he win the dispute by his will to keep a level head? Or did his opponent simply transcend him with the wand?

It was only a matter of time before he found out. “Tarantallegra!”

Action • Casting Taratallegra

Blue light had jetted from the tip of her wand, her spell successfully cast without a trace of hesitation. She expected nothing less. Unlike the buffoon facing her, hers was a consistent magic. Predictable, yes; but reliable. Although her spells took some time to master, once she had fully grasped an understanding, they were hers to command as she willed them. There was little satisfaction, then, in seeing the light streak ahead towards her Captain. There was, however, a tinge of annoyance as it continued to sail on by, striking the wooden scaffolding behind him with the echo of a lightning clap.

That annoyance may have built into a rage-fuelled urge to repeat herself and prove to the both of them that she were the more capable of the two if it weren't for the reaction to her casting. Although subtle, the widening of D'Spacito's eyes spoke volumes. He even went so far as to take a step back. The distance between them, although only lengthened by a minuscule amount with his movement, felt as though she had done the impossible in pushing back a mountain. It revealed that he was not quite the immovable object that he had built himself to be. Only, Evelynn was hellbent on proving she was still every bit an unstoppable force. She inhaled that fear. Drank in the shock of his expression. She might have missed his person, but she had levied a powerful blow upon his psyche. That would do. For now.

No momentum to her aggression would build, however, for mere moments after her missed assault, D'Spacito would seem to collect himself. A small smile even appeared on his lips as he bowed his head, briefly veiling his expression from her gaze. And then he approached. Wariness crept over Evelynn as he did. Right foot dragging back, she fell into a fencer's stance, presenting only the side profile of her left side towards him. He cracked his knuckles. She balanced her weight. He stretched his neck. She adjusted the grip of her wand in her left hand. He adopted a loose stance of his own. She inhaled a steadying breath of resolve. He rolled his wand in a flourish about his fingers. Evelynn rolled her eyes.

"This is what happens when a stubborn moke forces a confrontation from a conversation," she corrected. The narrowing of her lids told him just how impressed she was by his display of arrogance. "Trigger happy?" she laughed, eyes flashing with dark humour. "What does that make you, then? Trump with his nuclear remote?" she retorted before drolly clarifying, "Although I suppose you did just confirm that.."

Let it be said that the Gryffindor Captain finally used his head. Generally, the engagement of a verbal spar would be far from a poor move. An intent to stir anger, to provoke, to instil a sense of reckless rage was a bold move. And a good one. When successful, it could lead to additional leverage, or pin-holing the opponent into a psychological trap. Even better, it could lure them to act rashly with an easily deflected attack, while also leaving gaps in their defence that could then be exploited. This assumes a general wit with the word, which D'Spacito actually did possess. Evelynn was well aware that his tongue was barbed when he needed it to be. But it also required a solid grasp of the situations being employed to spur the provoking.

This was the weakness of his plan.

"..What?" Rather than inspire anger, his words caused Evelynn's head to rear a fraction back as an expression of confusion moulded her features. Brows knit together, lips parted slightly, and her chin inclined just a touch. "I told you already that I didn't do anything to Morgan intentionally, so your statement is already wrong in intent.." she countered, entirely ignoring his taunt to aim. "But what does—"

She cut herself off, words of confusion replaced in an instant with an incensed hiss as D'Spacito pivoted from slinging insults to slinging spells. As caught off guard as she was by his sudden desire to finally partake in verbal interaction, she remained prepared. Instinct kicked in and where he pointed his wand, she arced her spine just enough to allow it to sail harmlessly past.

"You actually got chaser with that aim?" she sneered back, straightening the short distance back into her stance. "No brain, no aim.. Were they short on applicants when they brought you on to the team? I'm beginning to wonder if you only got the position of Captain because nobody else wanted it."

Eyes were on him as she spoke. Two could play at the game of verbal warfare. It was a battlefield in which she had whet her blade more than once. And as she spoke, she began to move, her weight carried on the balls of her feet.

"You sure like to talk a big game, D'Spacito, but I don't think I've ever seen you back it up with anything of worth. You seem to fancy yourself some sort of knight. Avenging your friends. Morgan is perfectly capable of doing that herself, and the business between us? Well that's between us. Maybe before you get your panties in a bind, you'd consider actually finding out the details. Or just dropping it altogether. It's none of your business."

Her steps were languid, careful. They took their time, never straying far from her default stance so as not to be caught off guard. A lioness in her den, circling her adversary, watching, gauging, and waiting for an opening in his movement.

"As for Caster… Well… As she can't even save herself from herself, I can't imagine what you could possibly do to help with that. But you would defend her, wouldn't you. You both seem to jump at the chance to throw fists. Hot-headed. Reckless. Temperamental. You're practically mirrors of each other. And just like you, she sought to stick her nose where it didn't belong, and can't seem to control her temper. She had a very unique way of saying Happy Birthday."

In a blink, Evelynn paused long enough to line up a shot. Her mind demanded retribution and to see the boy before her suffer for his insolence, and she would appease it, not with physical harm, but with the shame of a grotesque image. Voice like silk, she commanded, "Mucus ad nauseam."

[font=century gothic]ACTION: Casting Mucus ad Nauseam[/font]
Spell DC 11: [d10:7+10=17] success | Eve Acc: [d20:5+9=14] | Raf Eva: [d20:5+4=9] HIT