Blossom Ball Dancefloor Event Closed

She felt oddly unsure, even in the presence of her best friend. Was it love? She looked at him, studying the lines of his face. He wasn’t exactly Dean. But, to be fair, there was hardly anything wrong with Adam. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to have a boyfriend. But, now she was just confused. Not just confused, but very confused. All her thoughts, thoughts she would never really share out loud, even if she had been burned alive again--they came bubbling up like wildfire. And she wanted to admit to Adam about the strangeness she felt. She wanted to talk to him about it. Surely he’d understand. Wouldn’t he? She felt a nagging tug at the back of her head, almost an encouragement to spin and dance, and yell about everything and anything that came to mind.

She chalked it up to nerves, and went along with her life, even if the tugging in the back of her head seemed to get worse and worse. She almost wanted to admit how angry she was at Adam for keeping secrets. It was obvious at times, from the way his eyes went distant and his posture slouched. And it tore her up on the inside. She wondered sometimes if she as perhaps too honest. If she had shared too much with him and he didn’t want to talk to her. Maybe they really weren’t best friends, and sometimes that hurt her so much that she found herself lying to her best friend. Not that it was really lying, it was just not explaining everything. That was fine, but it wasn’t exactly the best for friendship.

It wasn’t exactly like she wasn’t honest, but she felt the strange urge to be even more honest. All those weird thoughts, like the odd ones that sometimes occured when she questioned the future and stuff like Adam’s hair. Like, maybe it was time to tell him that she thought his hair was really...really...really..poofy. Like, come on! There had to be a way to make his hair less fluffy. Maybe brushing it?

She giggled to herself, clapping her hands over her mouth. Focus on dancing, right. Yeah. That was easy enough, really. But, things just felt a bit awkward. A bit strange. It hadn’t been like that with Max last year. But, then again-- they had known they were going on a date. And..she hadn’t wanted to get cooties last year. But, now that she knew cooties were fake

Was this just puberty coming early? Oh no. She was way too young for puberty. She was too short for this gross drama! Oh no, oh no. Was she about to break out in a sweat and grow big huge ugly face dots? Pimples, right. Yeah, those. She almost expected to see them on her face, as she tried to inconspicuously touch at her face.

She panicked upon finding rough patches of skin, but then remembered her burn marks. She relaxed again, temporarily. Her moods were going super fast too! Was that another sign of the capital P puberty? The deadliest disease to ever hit human. Fatality rate? 100%. Eris waited to suddenly turn into a teenage zombie, but the transformation never came. She still felt like..Eris! Not like some weird gross girl who wanted to do weird gross things.

Huh. Maybe she wasn’t going through the Puberty. That fact alone was enough to make her beam, which she did do. Balancing on the tips of her tippy toes, her hair glowed a bright shade of pink, alluding to the happiness coursing through her body. She wasn’t contaminated!

“You look like a niffler trying to breakdance!” She teased, swaying back and forth in place for a moment, before taking his hand and trying to spin him in a circle. Smiling, she opened her mouth to talk about hopefully dancing. “We should totally try and tango!”

She bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to peer upwards and see Cecily. However, due to her small stature and the large group of people that were crowded around, she couldn’t see the blonde haired Ravenclaw. They had never officially met, and Eris was eager to meet one of Adam’s friends, besides for herself. She’d heard much of Adam’s other friends and was almost overjoyed by the prospect of meeting them.

Edging upwards on the tips of her toes, she went to talk to Adam and then bit back a cry. A loud scream emitted from Eris’s throat, as she took a shaky step towards the fire starting. No, no, no. Visions of burning flashed throughout her mind, as she remembered being burnt alive. Already, some children seemed to be nearby, attempting to put out the fire.

She had came prepared for this. She had known such things would happen, but even so, she shook from head to toe. Trying to muster up the Gryffindor courage that was always wanted and needed in situations like this, Eris flipped her hair up into a ponytail and took a deep breath.

She could handle this. Even as images of fire and screams echoed in her mind, Eris grabbed her water bottle out of the bag by her waist and ran towards the fire. Holding her water bottle like something sacred, she ran towards the burning table and the students trying to put it out.

She elbowed aside the people doing nothing, letting out a yell. “THERE’S A BLOODY PUNCH BOWL, ARE YOU DAFT? USE THAT INSTEAD OF STANDING AROUND LIKE GITS.” Water put out fire. How stupid were the first years?

There was no time to say sorry for yelling, not when a fire was about to get worse and worse. The tiny girl was nervous enough to plunge herself into the tangled arrey of limbs and flame, trying eagerly to prevent the flames from getting worse. She had been burnt before, she could handle it again.

She began to pour the contents of her waterbottle on the roaring fire, praying it would do something.

Interactions | @Isaac Ambrose, @Elizabeth Linscott, @Eris Fawsley, people nearby

Unlike Isaac, Dinara's temper didn't dissipate at the sight of the fire. On the contrary, the fire seemed to mirror the one growing inside her. How dare some stupid fire ruin the Blossom Ball! More importantly, how dare some stupid fire ruin the argument that Dinara was just about to win?

As illogical as her train of thought was, it proved to be enough motivation to kick her into action in an effort to stop the fire and finally have a chance to win the darn argument. Gesturing rudely at the boy who had already run off gallantly to find a solution (though likely ineffective) for the fire, she stood about watching the rest of the chaos unfold around her.

Had this been a muggle situation, Dinara would have run off to grab a fire extinguisher. Unfortunately, it seemed that there was a lack of extinguishers at Hogwarts; students had to resort to the old fashioned methods of 'beating the fire out' and even attempting to extinguish the raging fire with a pathetically small amount of water they carried in their water bottles.

It's not that Dinara was in any position to judge, she didn't exactly have any better plans either. It was until she heard someone or another yelling about the punch bowl that she realised it was right beside her. A small grin of satisfaction found it's way to her face as she picked it up. She was sure that she happened to be in the right place at the right time for a reason -- this was why she ended up at the Blossom Ball, it was her calling all along! The one, the only, heroic Dinara Lucey!

The little fanfare that played in her head didn't serve to help the situation much. Still, it didn't stop her from picking up as much punch as she could with the cups that were strewn about the grounds. However, she soon realised that for someone as small-sized as she, the amount of punch that she could gather in one trip wouldn't be much help at all.

So much for being 'heroic', Dinara.

Her embarrassment was clearly shown on her face, though she opted to channel it into yelling at people in hopes that they too would spring into action. Perhaps then they would have a better chance of putting out the fire which somehow seemed to be growing larger every second.

"Could you guys, like, HELP? HOW MUCH WATER DO YOU EXPECT THIS TINY PERSON TO BE ABLE TO LUG? MAYBE GET A PITCHER OR SOMETHING?!"

For once, her loud voice served to be of help rather than a nuisance. Gathering up what little cups she could hold, she struggled over to the fire with overflowing cups huddled in her arms, spilling a good amount all over herself before tossing what little punch she had left in the cup onto the fire after her waddle over the grounds.