[font=century gothic]INTERACTING WITH @Jackson Valentine, @Rafael D'Spacito @Anastasia Beckett, and @Jacob Harman | MENTIONING n/a[/font]

Every now and then throughout the length of her presented defense, she had caught the occasional wince of D'Spacito's features. It was almost as though her words had carried with them a weight that bore down heavily upon his shoulders to relay some sort of guilt. Had it been anyone else, she might have been satisfied by that reaction, comforted by the knowledge that she was getting through to them. But not D'Spacito. Not the bold and bull-headed Blatch King. A warning stirred in the back of her mind, eyes narrowing slightly as she continued, gaze honing more attentively upon his features to study his every reaction in minute detail.

As it was, she was very quick to catch the comment under his breath and the almost... fearful?..glance towards her compartment companion. A sidelong glance landed on Valentine, and she made quick note of the wand grasped almost nervously against his leg. Well, she couldn't blame him there. Her own wand was always at the ready for her as well, although not quite so easily readied given its more subtle place of hiding. She made a mental note to bring that up with her mother during the next holidays. Perhaps a bracer might prove better than the inseam of her boot.

She filed that thought neatly away for another time as she carried on with her sentiments, once again trained to study D'Spacito's face. No, there was definitely something off about those winces, particularly in the way that they suggested a deference that stood—not cowered—in stark contrast to his words of challenge. There was no way he actually felt any sort of remorse. Not in response to her words. ..could he?

No. No he could not, she concluded the second he had opened his mouth in retort. There it was, that same defiance she expected of him whenever the two of them clashed. He mentioned a time gap. She shrugged a brow in quiet acquiescence. Very well, she could accept that perhaps he had defied the odds and somehow learned to mature and learn from past errors on his part. No comment for or against was offered on her part, however. At the claim against their subtlety, however, she had to stifle a scoff, instead lofting a sceptical brow and shifting the crossing of her arms for comfort.

Sure, the door hadn't been clicked closed, but how much more subtle could you be than two individuals sharing a private conversation in an otherwise deserted compartment of a caboose car with door closed and voices conversational in tone? It wasn't as though they had been shouting their malice upon their lips and parading a sign about the commons—although she couldn't deny that the notion of an anti-D'Spacito rally and parade made her smile internally. Once again, she could only conclude he was grasping for straws with deluded interpretation.

This was all the more enforced by the pathetic stab at her apparently pitchy voice—she wasn't aware that her voice, which took after her mother's contralto registers, would ever be considered pitchy—and the turn to cussing. Again, she had to suppress her reaction. Only this time it was a smile rather than a scoff that she stifled. There it was, the D'Spacito she knew and he claimed she spoke of in slander. The one that resorted to basal tactics to undermine his opposition.

"Yes," she finally agreed, when he had reached the part about their "little interaction". "Yes, I did force that upon you because up until that moment, you had refused to give me the time of day. And yes, I did fire the first spell. At the ground, if you recall. To stop you from fleeing. Again."

She could hardly offer any more counter-explanation than that, however, as he was already off again, continuing his verbal tirade. "Good," came the flat remark a moment later when he admitted—however truthfully—to feeling disgusted about having struck her. And then, quite seriously, "You should be disgusted with yourself about that. But I'm not about to believe that you won't do it again. Your word isn't nearly as untarnished as you seem to think it is."

And then they were back at Quidditch, and to everything he said, she could only look at him as though he were delerious. The only reason she had her position was because of him? Granted, he had indicated that he'd put in a word for her when he had introduced her as the new co-captain nearly a year ago now, but she was quite certain that decision was ultimately made by the Head of House. And to attack her performance in that role? That was just low. And entirely inaccurate. But that only served her well in this moment.

He was quite right in saying that she served the team with only two basic functions: to seek and to strategize. Both of them she performed with pride and excellence. Never had she missed a single quidditch game, taking great lengths to detail their exact depiction. She had even gone so far as to beg her mother to let her purchase a pair of omniocculars to play back parts that occurred too swiftly for the naked eye, and made use of these extensive notes to break down likely plays and develop counter-strategies. It wasn't her fault that he chose to disregard her recommendations half the time and blatched on impulse whenever someone rubbed him the wrong way in a match.

Thus, she didn't even deign to grace him with a response to defend herself. In her mind, she didn't need to. There was little doubt that by now, it was likely becoming clear to the other two members of the encounter that the words that fell from D'Spacito's mouth here were tainted by slander and lies. And what was tainted once... well who knew how truthful everything that had come before had really been. He claimed to be a man of honour. Yet here he was, a boy grasping at any strings he could to elevate himself as victor.

From that point forward, she held her silence, adopting a serene expression with the barest hint of a smile. As though she found everything that he said to be vaguely amusing. Neither his claim to know Caster's side of the story, nor his jab at her ego elicited comment. She allowed his reassertion of her apparently painting him in a bad light to go unchallenged. Even his misunderstanding about her venting—it was Valentine who had done the venting, not her. She hadn't said a single thing about any of them except to suggest they be avoided—she left untouched.

And then, she really couldn't help but smirk. He knew her, he said. Sure he did. He had even accompanied that sentiment with a sort of knowing glint in his eyes. It was as though she should take that as some sort of leveled threat, as though she had something to hide. There were only two things that she was hiding, however. One, that she had submitted to the Headliner that old article that had been written the year prior under a false pseudonym of T. Ruth. And two, the alias she had adopted for a series of letters she'd been writing to him and one 'Captain Kirk'. Unless someone had, for some reason, relayed to him that she had been wearing armor fashioned after the leader of the thieve's guild from Skyrim to the Hallowe'en costume party, there was no reason that he should make that connection.

Although, she couldn't deny that she was curious to know what he thought he knew.

"You know... you could be excellent in film," she remarked in wry amusement, tilting her head as though regarding D'Spacito with a visionary's eye. "You really believe what you're saying, don't you? You have even yourself fooled. But you're projecting. I'm not the one pretending to be someone, or something, that I'm not. And there are none that I despise. Only those I pity."

"And yes..." She added, finally turning to Beckett. Until this point, the other girl's words had been utterly and completely ignored. It was difficult not to pass her over given how D'Spacito had steam-rolled the conversation with his views. "I have personally witnessed less than civilized behaviour from each person on 'that list'. And each of you—" A pointed glance was made to the wand clutched threateningly in the chaser's hand before flicking back up again. "—are only serving to prove me right even now. Bold of you to assume that I would parrot the perceptions of others without evidence."

It was then that the fourth wheel in the cabin would finally make his striking move. The reaching of a hand into his jacket was what had first caught Evelynn's attention. She'd looked with curiosity that had quickly shifted to puzzlement as he withdrew a rose from within. A black rose. The hairs on her neck immediately stood on end and a flash as cold of ice rushed through her head to toe. Hadn't the roses at the Blossom Ball been dark as pitch? Suddenly she wasn't quite so certain about what she had originally thought to be a rather innocuous first year.

Her gaze trailed after the rose in veiled suspicion, lingering upon it where it had been left on the sill. It didn't sit right with her and there was a very real moment of temptation to just smash the thing where it lay. She refrained. For now. But still flashed the boy an uncertain glance and made a note to do a bit of reconnaissance in future. Perhaps there was more to him than had initially met the eye. All too quickly, her mind began reeling, cogs turning in their effort to piece him together with the likes of Moore, Athanatos and Davenport.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" She blinked, suddenly snapped from her spiraling thoughts by the very boy on whom they had been fixated. "After you... teach them some manners?" She stared at him with unfettered incredulity. "Oh for Heaven's sake...put that away!"

Obviously, she was talking about his wand, and it wasn't a request. The furrow of her brow was enough to suggest that she was hardly amused any longer. This was getting out of hand and spiraling to ridiculously childish proportions.

"If you truly believe that you could teach anyone manners with that, you are grossly mistaken. Beckett is two years—" A definitely emphasis was placed upon the years as though that were quite significant. Because, well, it was. "—your senior, and could drop the lot of us if she so desired, I have little doubt. The only manners you would be teaching would be how to navigate a meal with your elbows at your side and with the smallest, and non-existent, of bites, as that's the position you would find yourself once body bound."

"And you as well," she added, turning her ire onto Beckett and uncrossing her arms. "You seem to fancy yourself rather dignified and yet you stoop to the same levels you claim to disdain. Put away your wand. I have to say I'm horrified to think that D'Spacito is the most civilized of the three of you. I might have wagered that he'd have been the first to draw his wand, and yet he's the only one that hasn't." She glanced to him and sneered, "perhaps you really are improving. I'm surprised you still have breath enough still to stand with how long-winded you've been, but I suppose words of any length are better than speaking with fists."

It was then that a fifth voice made itself apparent. In truth, Evelynn had actually forgotten he was even there, so swept up in the confrontation as she had become. But with the door having been opened with D'Spacito's silent beckon to Beckett that they might actually take their leave, it seemed he had inadvertently invited an additional participant. A very very unfortunate participant, Evelynn reflected, a cold grip washing over her as Harman's words began to flood her with dread like a broken dam. While on some level, she appreciated his standing up for her, she couldn't help but fixate on the grave error in his words.

"We are not friends," she stated firmly, adamant to correct that major misconception before anyone made the mistake of thinking there was any truth to it at all. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to put her in the same league as D'Spacito. "And there is no point in his apology. It would be just as empty and fleeting at the rest of his words. Like wind."

"There is one thing, however, I feel I must address," she continued, gaze lidded with disappointment at how the situation had devolved. Particularly as she had no real issue with Beckett, and had actually thought the two of them had come out more positively after their last game. This step back annoyed her. While she maintained D'Spacito's eye contact, fingers lifted to fiddle slowly and deliberately with the chest fabric of her robe. "I don't particularly care whether you appreciate my ordering you around or not. In fact, until now, I haven't ordered you to do anything. But you may as well come to terms with that notion now, otherwise you will find yourself in a miserable situation."

She dropped her hands away from her robes to fold idly over her abdomen once again. There, pinned neatly next to her co-captain badge was a new one. One with an elegant 'P' embossed within Gryffindor's crest.

"Now, I'd like to reiterate Valentine's previous sentiments. Please take your leave."

[font=century gothic]ACTION: Being blissfully ignorant of the fact that she's in a main story murderthread and not a private teen drama film
Sta 7 | Eva 10 | Str 2 | Wis 10 | Arc 2 | Acc 10
Keen Eye | Fearless[/font]

Katrina beat down her rising panic. There was no reason to freak out until she could figure out what on earth was going on. Katrina looked down, realizing her wand was in her hand, she tucked it back in the sheath around her arm under her Gryffindor sweatshirt. She wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. She wasn’t going to freak out. She was going to figure out what was going on and then figure out her next move.

Petal [Opeila] asked the door knocking boy a few questions. The only answers Katrina got out of that was that it didn’t sound like the train was malfunctioning like she’d thought a few moments ago, but instead that something was coming. What on earth could be following a train? And why? Everything bad that happened, there had to be a reason behind it. That’s why her kidnapping was so vexing, there were still things she couldn’t explain. Small things or big things had no matter, if she couldn’t put all the pieces together, it consumed her thoughts until she could.

Another girl commented that she was also wondering who the boy who knocked on the door had been. It was another one of her look-alikes. Scarlett, wasn’t it? Katrina made up her mind that she was going to stick beside Petal and Scarlett. At least for now.

The boy hadn’t been any help so far, so Katrina took it upon herself to see if she could figure out what was going on. Katrina would stick with Petal. It seemed she had a connection with mystery door banging guy and she seemed to be one of the more capable students, at least at first glance. Besides anything that could get her an advantage to figure out what was going on and make sure no one was in danger.

For Moderation:

Reducio

Action: Think a lot, stick with Opeila, try to notice things

Abilities: Perfectionist [Crit-Fail Zone reduced by1] | Healing Sage [+25% on all magical healing] | Charmer [-1 acc for all opponents]

Stats: Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 3 | Wisdom 11 | Arcane Power 9 | Accuracy 5

Interacting With: @Opeila Winters

Mentioning: @Vladimir Athanatos @Scarlett Aden

Action: Observing her Surroundings.

Interacting with @Alan Vanes

Pierre cast Alohomora.
Roll: 9

Meenauh Wisdom Check 12
Vladimir Wisdom Check 10

Cowboy 1 attempts to grab Opeila
Attack 18
Evasion 9

Vladimir attempts to push Cowboy 1
Attack 13
Evasion 19

Cowboy 2 attempts to deck Vlad.
Attack 7
Evasion 15

Cowboy 3, grab wand
Attack 15
Evasion 10

Yeah, the whole 'assuming everything was fine' mentality didn't work so out well. Not a few moments before Katrina was ready to head back to her compartment and attempt to bring Petal back to when there was a loud "Yee-Haw" Katrina watched as five adult men entered the compartment. Not just men though, cowboys? What the heck? Like, honestly, what's next?

Katrina let her mask slip in place. It was easy. Shoving her emotions aside. Only letting what she wanted to be shown be shown. And that was a face of protectiveness. Nothing was going to hurt her classmates without having to deal with her first, no matter how easy or hard that was. Suddenly, this was so much simpler than her kidnapping had been. She wasn't having to protect herself. She was now having to protect her housemates. Her peers.

The cowboy dudes called their dramatic break in a 'heist'. Then they demanded their wands. Nope. Not happening in a million years. Katrina watched as the started beating up the door knocking boy. Katrina felt her jaw clench. Then after he was on the ground one of the guys kicked him with the pokey round things on his boots. Then a different cowboy grabbed Petal by the hair. That was it. Katrina felt rage boil up in her, overwhelming her normally intact moral compass and pushing aside just like her emotions. It wasn't anywhere near okay to hurt kids, especially when they weren't a threat. Nope.

The cowboy asked for her wand and Katrina lost it. First of all, no one hurts her peers. Second, she didn't have to admit she even had her wand at the moment since it was in the leather holster she'd made currently sew into the inside of her house cloak sleeve. And third, NO, she'd lost her wand before and she was not going to let that happen again. All of this thought process happened in a split second. Not a moment or two after the not so impressive cowboy demanded her wand, Katrina felt all the rage just come pouring out of her.

She (attempted to) punch the cowboy right in the nose. She didn't say a word and Katrina's internal voice silenced. Instead, the anger and frustration from everything that had happened to her this year and over break just came pouring out. Suddenly nothing else mattered. She wasn't going to 'win'. But at least she was going to signal to anyone that she wasn't going to just give up her wand. And also, these were clearly bad guys trying to do bad things and it was the wrong idea to bust into a compartment of angsty teenage witches and wizards and demand their wands.

For Moderation:

Reducio

Action: Randomly have a character change solely for my OOC enjoyment, punch cowboy 4 in the nose

Abilities: Perfectionist [Crit-Fail Zone reduced by1] | Healing Sage [+25% on all magical healing] | Charmer Activated for all Cowboys [-1 acc for all opponents]

Stats: Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 3 | Wisdom 11 | Arcane Power 9 | Accuracy 5

Interacting With: Cowboy 4

Mentioning: @Opeila Winters @Vladimir Athanatos @Scarlett Aden

@Rafael D'Spacito @Evelynn Decipio @Anastasia Beckett @Jacob Harman

It was truly a powerful moment, fit for the climax of a storybook. Harman’s confusing outburst followed by Evelynn’s shocking reveal left chills running down his spine. Valentine almost didn’t mind being chided by his senior for trying to put the insane Anastasia Beckett in her place. Unfortunately for them, this wasn’t the type of tale being told today. This was just the beginning.

Valentine had wanted to voice out what he had seen when he went to the window, but it felt unjust to downplay the relevance of the conflict that was already happening. That was until he heard the sounds in the hallway.

Had the other students been complicit with the demands of the men who aligned themselves with ‘S.C.A.R’, it was unlikely that those apathetic to the warnings would have suspected that anything was amiss; the doors to each of the compartments were thick and blocked out most noises that would have suggested a struggle.

The floor, on the other hand, was not soundproof. When Vladimir’s body crashed down painfully against the carpet, Valentine felt a tremor beneath his feet like the premonition of an earthquake. He listened, partially as Evelynn chastised the other pair in the room. He was skilled in the way of dividing his attention. He tried as he could to figure out what exactly the commotion was outside, but when Evelynn moved to drive the other two out of the room, he interjected firmly with his eyes widened, the initially confrontational attitude all but replaced with an expression of grave concern.

“No, wait! Listen!” he nearly shushed them all with his exclaimed whisper. He immediately turned to Rafael, who was already in the doorway and could likely see what was going on. “This isn’t a joke! Something’s wrong!”

Actions:
Actively Observing/Reacting

@Vladimir Athanatos, @Allister-Jameson MacAllister, @Everly Charlton, “John Wayne”, & the S.C.A.R. Cowboys

Well, while the girl had been struggling with the latch for a second, Piérre did indeed notice that the lovely little suitcase was definitely locked. Only obvious and evident choice; cast the Unlocking charm! A quick recitation, a swish, and the boy could feel the magic zipping from his fingers into his wand before the lock popped off quite easily. He had gotten better over the summer, and he was determined to get even better over the winter leading into his next summer.

What else would come into view in the suitcase than a very cramped young boy, only about Piérre’s age? The once-trapped kid would be met with a huge smile and a very surprised laugh from the Britalian, Piérre’s eyes glittering as he realized that it was just another, terribly unfortunate, student. How in the... what in the world?

“Hahaha! Ha-Hello!” He waved excitedly, as he carefully snagged Figaro and prevented the silver Bengal from jumping into the already crowded suitcase. “Ha-how did you end up in there?” A tiny snort, which then sent the Britalian into even more intoxicatingly hysterical giggles.

After he had managed to prevent himself from splitting his sides, Piérre extended a hand, Figaro now wrapped around his shoulders once again. ”He-Here,” He sniffled a bit, “Lemme help you up, okay?” His voice was wobbling with the remains of his laughter. “Bruised anywhere? You took a bit of a tumble... I’m Piérre by the way...”

It was at this point, while Piérre was brushing the kid down and checking for any injuries, that he would be disturbed by the sound of clanging metal and wild hollers like something Piérre had heard in a Wild, Wild West movie. Was this part of the Hogwarts Express’ entertainment? Like, you know in airplanes how they played movies... maybe there was live action in the magical world! Though smiling, Piérre would cover his face when the caboose door was forced open, revealing a quintet of men... dressed like cowboys!

A heist?! They wanted their wands?!

This was a Wild, Wild West movie! It was just like John Wayne’s “The Sons of Katie Elder!” Except... there were five dudes instead of four... Hm... well, you can’t ask of everything in a reskinning of a movie that was Muggle-based! Piérre absolutely adored John Wayne. His lopsided smile, that acting... the way he did all of his own stunts! And the horses...

Wait, were here horses nearby?

Well, um... I’d focus on more important things, bud.

One of them, announcing their affiliation... S.C.A.R. Caused Piérre to tip his head. Weren’t they the ones involved with all the domestic magical violence? The non-magical terrorists? Piérre didn’t like the word ‘Squib’. It sounded funny, and in Piérre’s opinion; if anything was supposed to sound funny, but imply something not so funny, the word shouldn’t exist. It was a respect basis, nothing more, nor less.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all of them acted at once; one of them, the one who seemed to know what the plan was all about and looked— in Piérre’s eyes— almost like the coolest, lunged forward and grabbed a girl by her hair. Wincing a little, Piérre flinched as he imagined his own hair being pulled, especially by the bangs or the top of his head. His own scalp tickled at the thought, and nervously, he rubbed the green handle of his wand. That dude just had to be John Wayne... he just had to be! Holding a woman in a stagecoach against her will, classic John Wayne!

The tall Ravenclaw boy that seemed to always be just... around... jumped into action against the other threats, trying his best to fight off the foes. Piérre’s eyes widened as the kid put up an awesome fight. For a second, it almost looked like the encounter was his... until Piérre felt his own nose sting as the boy’s nose was punched in.

Piérre saw blood.

This wasn’t actually a play, was it?

Calming Presence Activated!
Piérre has chosen his allies!

Instinctively, the air around him seemed to electrify, almost palpable waves being felt by anyone in the vicinity... except for the people trying to hurt them. The Britalian was getting nervous... the Britalian was sharing his fear in a way that was both eerie and inspiring... empathy which gave everyone just a bit more clarity of mind. Clarity that would inspire them to strike true even in this tense scenario.

Eyes locking with the boy who had suffered intense pain, pain which Piérre could see and thus feel himself, emerald eyes softened and then a small smile formed on his face. Up to now... they had been something peculiar... one thought the other a threat, while the other considered the first a bit of a bully.

There were no sides in a unified threat. Vladimir too would feel the flicker of fight in him as Piérre reconciled their relationship up to this point.

That being said, one of the lackies were going around, demanding wands and magical equipment. Fortunately, Piérre had nothing on him but his own wand. And even then, perhaps they hadn’t noticed yet. There were many people around. They wouldn’t remember to frisk one boy intently, especially if there was no visible wand on him.

Piérre remembered and old trick of Miss Xailah Alptraum’s, all the way back last year... with a certain wand and a certain incident that Piérre cared not to relive again in this moment. She was a girl with her own method of preserving her secrets.

Well, Piérre was a boy. What difference does it make?!

He was wearing his typical, slightly puffy breeches today, something that would easily hide a wand... when slipped down his beltline and secured safely on the outside of his thighs, held in the elastic of his underwear.

When they would come around with the bag to the trio around the suitcase, (if they came around), Piérre would simply made a confused face, flashing his hands, turning out his pockets and blubbering out in rather a convincing façade of confusion. ”I... uh... I left it further up... I’m... I’m sorry!”

Action: Hide Wand in Underwear (I will make you suffer, Lear)

Stats:
Stamina 3, Strength 3, Evasion 10
Wisdom 10, Accuracy 10, ArcPower 5

Keen Eye
25% chance to notice something

Calming Presence
All the people being stuck-up— Robbed— in the Murder thread (Including Vlad)