Event The Fall Ball (Masquerade)

"I don't talk to the Fox anymore, Ryan!"

The boy hissed. Apparently they had broken-up. How sad.

"He's avoided me since the last half of my first year! So apologies, but I can't give him anything for you."

He drew his wand.

"I doubt he cares about me anymore anyways."

He claimed adding to his personal pity party. She did not believe him, or perhaps she did not care. He was a lightning rod for her malcontent. She was not going to detour from her path because she could feel it in her bones. It was this silent throbbing sense. "I suppose that we will both find out soon enough," she declared.

She was going to attempt to fell the boy. Well, she was about to when @Kyle DeRook showed up alongside her. She did not even hear him coming, she did not know he had sprung back to life.

"Alright so who we targeting next. Another Giant? always fun to knock down a tree. Or we want to break a couple smaller annoyances"

She was in the middle of another pummeling. She would gave his a sideways glance as she attempted to hook Selim's jaw with her knuckles and break the boy's jaw. "Just fighting my ex's boyfriend," she grunted as she attempted another swing and hopefully not a partial miss. The boy'd reign of surviving a murder event unscaved was about to end on the floor.

Success or not she would shake out her hand. Her good punching hand had plenty of life still in it but she wanted something else. Something she could not get breaking Selim's bones. Her hand would roughly search for something to her side. Something from Kyle. An arm, a hand, a shirt...

"I only have one target left. Who do you want?"

Action: Hook punch Selim.

Stats
Stamina: 8
Evasion: 10
Strength: 15
Wisdom: 3
Arcane Power: 3
Accuracy: 7

Abilities:
Part Veela:
Alluring 10% chance that an attack against her will target an unintended target.
Scream: N/a
Fearless: Immune to fear effects.
Evasive Maneuvers: 10% auto dodge.

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Interacting With: @Willow Anderson as Everett Brooks • @Jackson Valentine
Mentioning: @Lydia Cooper • Pierre Marchonne • Ruka Burnett-Tan [indirectly] • Evelynn Decipio [indirectly] • Jack Burnett [indirectly]
-Closed to Interactions-
Hex Color: #800000

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Outfit
Hair
Mask

"Of course, friend." Well, fuck. Rafael hadn’t been expecting that.

Confusion threading its way through his senses and heart suddenly and uncharacteristically heavy within his chest, the young Captain couldn’t withhold the look of tentative amusement that shot across his features in that moment, gaze inquisitive as he focused his eyes into those belonging to his lovely date. Of course, friend – of course, friend. What was that supposed to mean? Was Rafael missing the bigger picture here? Thinking of the passive-aggressive comment alone would be enough to send the young man’s thoughts reeling farther into the deep end, his brow furrowed tightly and lip fastened about his teeth as his gaze searched his dance partner’s for the answer to such a subtle verbal attack. And then, it would hit him, like a 2-ton semi barreling its way down an empty freeway – Rett was miffed over his usage of British slang, wasn’t he? The Captain hadn’t thought much of his loose language at the time – he rarely did, still seeing the words as nouns and verbs rather than ideas and feelings – but perhaps such words had proven to impact the other’s mood negatively. Maybe Rett thought he was insinuating something. Which, in a minor way, served to peeve the Gryffindor – hadn’t the young man made his feelings towards Rett more than obvious? Was he really not getting the point across?

A surge of anger would stir within his chest in that moment, and he would have to take a mental pause to collect his bearings, dismissing the negative emotion to the deepest, darkest recesses of his stomach. Really, he didn’t have an excuse to be upset. After all, he had been the one to curse Rett out upon first meeting him, just like he had been the one to mess with the other’s feelings in the beginning of their strange relationship. Who was he, really, to think so little of words, when he used them every day to build and shatter those around him? Really, he should have been more careful, especially since the one impacted by his recklessness this time was someone he cared about immensely. Perhaps he would have to convince the Ilvermorny student, then, of how he really, truly felt. After all, there was a special place in his heart for Rett Brooks. He would offer the other a charming smile, his hands tightening in the slightest about his dance partner’s waist – it was not in any way a pervasive movement, the shift’s main purpose being to bring comfort to his tired arms and gain the attention of the Ilvermorny student in the simplest way possible. Chewing on his lip in thought, “Damn,” he would murmur with a small smile. His voice, the other would find, was low in volume, his naturally loud and striking tone now soft and pliable, sugar-coated with a sincere sense of affection as he allowed the appreciation he felt for the other to slip out into the open air. Unabridged, unfiltered. “You really didn’t like that, did you?” There was absolutely no indication or insinuation of negative intention in his words. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. You should know by now that,” he breathed in deeply, considering his words, “I don’t give my time to just anyone.” Then, exhaling, “It should really go unsaid that I am honored to share a dance floor with you.” He meant it. God, it sounded so fucking corny, but he meant it. He enjoyed being around Rett, he really did – and he wanted the other to know that. He wouldn’t be on the dance floor right then, being led like a fucking Disney Princess if he didn’t mean what he said. God, Pierre would be laughing his ass off if he saw him now.

He would allow Rett to lead further, albeit still a bit embarrassed that he was the one being led. It would be about then, that he would feel it. A profound sense of courage, the sort he’d been lacking for months on end, the spirit of the lion that had driven his every single move the year before. The mad impulse. He’d been thinking about asking the Ilvermorny student for a while now, even going as far as practicing his proposal in the mirror, taking minutes to hours every night to consider each word carefully as to make sure he sounded as sincere and profound as possible. Even now, possessed by this ethereal sense of courage, he still felt off, as if he were watching himself from afar – however, he knew better to sit on his ass and allow the sudden rush to pass and leave him with his own devices. “In fact,” it slipped out, a little too hurriedly for his taste, “I’d wanted to discuss something with you.” Reeling at his own words, he realized that there was no way in hell he could stop himself now. This was him jumping – how, he had to pray to whatever deity there was that Rett would catch him. “About us…”

It was never that easy, though, was it?

It would be about then, that he would catch his peripheral vision – her luscious red hair was truly unforgettable in the way that it sparkled like a million dollars underneath the light of the ballroom, the silky sheen unlike that of any other woman he’d seen in the entirety of his twelve years of existence. Simply alluring in nature she was, and matched with those bouncy, light vocals of hers, the owner could be nothing more than an angel, the epitome of all that was good and perfect, the one and only star in a sea full of dark and nameless faces. Fuck, this was bad. In the midst of his sudden reverie, he had to visibly shake his head, his eyes scrunching closed as a low, guttural whine escaped his throat. His head was hurting again. Fuck, he inwardly repeated once more, this was bad. He couldn’t dismiss the dense feeling of shame that invaded his thoughts in that moment, attacking his chest and leaking through his pores at the very thought of what he was feeling. Rett – he didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of it. He knew that, and he knew he should stop, shut her out, forget all about her pretty face, he knew, he knew, he knew, goddammit! He knew, which made what he was about to do that much harder. Because no matter how loud he inwardly screamed, how violently he writhed, his mind was a prison, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never, ever be able to shake the shackles that were Lydia fucking Cooper.

His eyes, once trained on Rett, darted about in an air that could only be described as fearful disparity, once a charming smile tightening into a grimace, once loose shoulders now tight in the anticipation of catching the gaze of the lovely veela girl. Searching, he was searching, wasn’t he? She was close, then. The one he’d been avoiding for all these days, she was close, closer than she’d been to him in a long time. It was a notion that absolutely, positively horrified the young child. It would only take a moment to catch those deep, sparkling green eyes – he could never in a million years forget them, forget that look she’d given him in the herbology lab all those months ago. If only the mask she wore could subtract from her unparalleled beauty, perhaps the child would have been able to restrain himself from the absolute utter surge of jealousy that attacked his chest about then. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair –

And then he saw her dance partner.

He could have only been a first year – the Captain’s reason being, he hadn’t once seen the younger in the confines of the second-year dorm, and there was no way in hell the kid was older than him, not with that young physique. But of course, Rafael couldn’t care less whether or not he was a scrawny firsty or a meaty upperclassman. It didn’t fucking matter, when he was gazing into her eyes, his voice almost inaudible as he spoke softly to the Hufflepuff he so errantly loved in secret. The little shit was dipping his girlfriend – no, his friend, that’s all they were, that’s all they’d ever been – in such a manner that the older felt absolutely ill, sick to his stomach, disgusted for letting her out of his sight for a single moment. At least, it was all that the young Captain could register – he never thought rationally when his face was this hot, his fists clenched this hard, his gaze this sharp. He just didn’t. Because by then, he’d already made up his mind about the younger. Fate was a bitch, putting her hideous tendrils in his chest and ripping out everything that tethered him to humanity– his heart, his guts, his fucking common sense.

He knew the rumors, what people said about him behind his back. He’s almost drowned an upperclassman. He’d smacked his co-captain. He’d thrown a glass vial at a Slytherin so hard he caused his victim to faint. Yeah, Rafael had anger issues, it wasn’t exactly a secret. And for a while there, he thought he’d gotten them under control. But now, gazing upon his first year housemate getting good with his girl – your friend, goddamn you, Rafa, your friend – he didn’t know why the deep breaths weren’t working, or why the anger management classes he’d taken over the summer had miraculously faded from his mind.

Perhaps it was because the monster had taken the wheel.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started his advance, his only conscious feeling being the immense headache that was now drilling into his forehead and the sharp sensation of crescent moons digging into the meat of his palms as he stepped forward in sure, careful steps. His gaze, much to his own surprise, had turned a dangerous calm, his gaze bland and focused on the sorry guy he’ caught messing around with his girl. Perhaps the two wouldn’t see him at first, in the way that he calmly approached, scarily silent, no indication of negative intent save for the red tint coloring his ears and the white knuckles attached to the tense fists clutched at his sides. Perhaps they wouldn’t notice until Rafael grasped the collar of the younger’s shirt with an impossibly strong grip, drawing his elbow back and forcing it forward with every ounce of strength he possessed. Or perhaps they did. Rafael didn't really care.

The younger didn’t know him. But he would.

[But seriously, what was with kids named Jack screwing with his love life? He wouldn’t know the other’s name upon initial contact, but he would learn it, sure as hell. And really, he should have seen it by now. Because only a Jack would dip his girl right in front of him without an ounce of shame on his face. Only a Jack.]

─────────Stats & Action─────────

STAM | 10 EVA | 4 STR | 9

WIS | 9 ARC | 2 ACC | 8

────────────────────────────── Interception | When a Quaffle is being passed, users with this ability automatically get a chance to Intercept the quaffle. This does not replace their normal action for the round. This puts the quaffle in your and by extension your teams' possession. Also, if the Quaffle is dropped for any reason, you would automatically (without it taking up an action) attempt another Quafflegrab. At present there would be no mid-round way to drop a quaffle due to the order of operations, however there will be certain effects in future patches that can cause this effect. ──────────────────────────────

Action • Attempting to Punch @ Jackson Valentine

Hogwarts was weird. While its student body seemed to be, as a whole, unusually attractive, they also seemed unusually fond of trying to smash one another's faces in. There was also a girl fighting what looked like a doll, which Alexei had meant to keep an eye on since that seemed outside the normal range of magical weirdness. He was, as usual, distracted by pretty girls.

Eyes flitting around the ballroom at the fights that kept breaking out, he sighed inwardly. As much as he liked to avoid conflict, he was also a man of honor (haha) and he rather worried he might look cowardly and thus give his brothers just one more addition to an ever-growing list to mock him about. Just one more way for him to stand in his family's shadow. He couldn't allow that. Maybe he would break his habit of avoiding physical violence and punch one or two other people. When in Rome, right? He was confident he could punch with a decent amount of damage, and he knew he could take whatever retaliation was directed his way. He had taken more than one unexpected hit over the summer, so an expected one would surely be more tolerable. He glanced back at his company in an effort not to appear preoccupied as he waited for an opportunity to hit someone.

Stamina: 10
Evasion: 9
Strength:13
Wisdom: 4
ArcPower: 4
Accuracy:9

Abilities: Charmer, Statistically Relevant(x2)

Action: Contemplate how weirdly attractive Hogwarts students are, look for anything suspicious, look for someone to pick a fight with

Bolded Text - French | Regular Text - English
Interacting: @Marion Davenport
Mentioning: @Vladimir Athanatos, @Selim Faust, Eugene Monserrac (@Caradoc Browne), @Hjørdis Jensen, Cassanora Browne (@Hugh Lowe)

Vladimir had agreed to the idea of a dance, and Madeleine's brown eyes had lit up beneath her leaf mask as he offered his hand. She took that hand as the bird-masked boy introduced himself. Selim Faust. She did not recognize the name, but she hadn't expected to. It was nice to have another person to claim she had met here at Hogwarts, though, and he seemed very respectable for coming to the aid of a friend. Then he pointed out the doll fight, which captured both Maddie and Vlad's attention.

"I wish I could claim that this was unusual, but sadly I would be a pitiful liar." Vladimir's hand dropped from hers as he continued, "Don't wander off with anyone." Madeleine's head tilted slightly at her date's words, unsure of how to take them. Was it a command? A suggestion? A warning? She was unable to fully process his tone before he was gone, apparently off to deal with the doll situation. Why was there even a doll situation to begin with? The young French girl was so confused.

She turned to look at Selim, wondering if he would follow.

"Miss Nakamura, perhaps you should move to the edges of the crowd, I wouldn't put it past my... 'peers' to go after you due to your 'connection' to Mr. Athanatos. I wouldn't want you being hurt by the ignorance of the other students who see Athanatos as their 'enemy'." His frown was the only visible expression she could make out with the raven mask blocking the rest of his face. "Perhaps stay near some professors...I'm truly sorry your night has been ruined by the drama here at Hogwarts."

Madeleine had no chance to respond to him either before he had already walked away, following after her date. What were they even- Her eyes widened when she noticed there was a burlap sack that they were chasing after. That's what he had meant by a doll? An actual doll? What was going on? She had felt a little indignant at having been left behind to just stand around on her own and "not wander off" with anyone - and she even had half a mind to disappear into the crowd and find a friend to go dance with - but the scene that was unfolding in front of her had trapped her attention.

The autumn-themed girl watched with rapt attention as the chaos unfolded among the group of Hogwarts students. They were attacking the doll and each other. It was utter madness, and although she was trying to follow along, she couldn't comprehend everything that was happening.

Madeleine's eyes very briefly at one point traveled to find her headmaster again (conveniently missing the part where her date punched a girl). There the older gentleman was, still dancing with his blonde-haired date for the evening - but it seemed almost nonsensical for her to get their help on this. She'd get Vladimir in just as much trouble as the rest of them, and it seemed like these Hogwarts students almost wanted conflict. Plus Maddie was realizing she just wanted her best friend to talk to - Cass. Her eyes traveled the rest of the ballroom in search of her, but she was still unable to locate her with just a glance. So, Maddie took a step away from the conflict and towards the crowd of dancers, intending to go find her best friend, but it was a familiar shout that stopped her.

"Mary, get away from him!"

Vladimir's voice rang out over the chaos, at least for Madeleine, who had heard that exact phrasing directed at herself not long ago. When a very tall boy had tried to take her hand and offer a dance, Vladimir had warned the boy away. Now he seemed to be shouting a similar warning to a girl in the sky. Madeleine's eyes traveled up and saw the exact moment that the blonde girl began to fall. She did not think - she merely reacted, as her wand unsheathed from its spot in her dress and was aimed to the floor below.

"Spongify!" she said, perhaps far too loudly in her panic. Her wand movement was accurate and graceful, nothing less than what she was taught. While she had hesitated plenty to join in the fray of Hogwarts students - a violent encounter that she wanted nothing to do with - the decision and instinct to try to help a girl who was falling came instantly.

TL;DR: Frozen in shock by the scene with the doll, in disbelief at the chaos that is Hogwarts, then casting Spongify at the floor beneath Marion Davenport (if possible)
Stats: Stamina: 5 | Evasion: 10 | Strength: 4 | Wisdom: 7 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 7
Ability: Charmer

@Rafael D'Spacito @Lydia Cooper

"I don't think you have a forgettable face."

He giggled girlishly again. It appeared that though the pleasantries were over and goodbyes were being said, he failed to notice that he was still holding Lydia; And a bit off of the ground no less. His grin settled onto his full, smooth lips just after he'd licked them. His grey gaze narrowed as he looked down into her own. A few folks seemed to grow concerned with their proximity and lack of motion. Their little display was undoubtedly over, and the crowds began resuming with their night as the two seemed to be having an intimate moment in which most others felt compelled to give them their privacy.

He didn't know what it was that alerted him of the sudden disturbance in the atmosphere, but the energy Rafael gave off was as potent as it was deadly. Valentine's eyes grew wide with mild confusion as he moved to relinquish her safely. His arms extended, careful not to just drop her. His hand on her waist let go first as she undoubtedly stepped down to the floor below. As the touch of their hands lingered, he turned to view the parting of the crowd with the corner of his eye as something tall and powerful made its way directly toward them.

Jealous boyfriend? It was the first thing that came to mind, but he considered equally the possibility that whoever was coming toward them was here for the girl he was dancing with, just as likely as it was that they were coming for himself. He regarded the older boy coolly, automatically taking up a place next to Lydia, and slightly in front. What he hadn't expected was the speed and ferocity of Rafael's response.

There was no time nor space for a more civil conversation. He was so close that Valentine could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. That, and the blurred ripple of a muscular forearm thrust toward his jugular. If the dance floor were any more crowded, he probably wouldn't have been able to escape the older boy's initial grapple for his collar. Likewise, if the dance floor had been any more crowded, Rafael probably wouldn't have been able to reach them in the first place.

Stepping back into the empty space behind him, the young Gryffindor attempted to back away as soon as he realized what was happening. He tightly gripped his gorgeous companion's forearm, body checking her away from the murderous eyes of the Thunderbird.

As Maximilien de Fostoncy | owl for interactions

English | French | Outfit

Interacting with Elise Laurent (@Scarlett Aden)

Taking a deep breath, Maximilien glanced around. He was overall fascinated by Hogwarts and England, but maybe it just didn’t feel alright. His hand was still in Elise’s, but for that, it felt fabulous. Dark grey gaze fell on the beautiful French blonde. Sighing, he couldn’t help looking at her — looking at his goddess.

Suddenly he saw something. A doll, and a girl to be exact. What were they doing? He didn’t know, and suddenly he lost sight of them. (OOC note: Maxi had succeeded in spotting Meenauh some rounds ago, so I would say that he lost sight bc he didn’t attempt a search in the past few rounds) Shaking his head lightly, he moved his gaze on to the people in the ballroom.

Apparently they were intriguing. Fun enough to entertain himself. Mostly Maxi was alone by the pond of the de Fostoncy manor, lost in his thoughts, so solitude for now didn’t really distract him. He wouldn’t mind sitting there alone, and observing everyone from a distance. But the young Frenchman had decided not to leave his goddess’s side tonight. If Elise was a princess, he would be her knight. At least for tonight.

But still, he was bored. Just a bit, he would swear to Merlin. And suddenly the boy felt a bit insecure. He gently drew his hand from Elise, and reached his wand in his pocket. “We’d be okay.” He whispered to her. “Trust me.” he winked, then smiled gently.

And he turned his attention to the ballroom again, trying to look for anything suspicious. Maxi had decided, if he was needed by someone, he’d be there immediately. Although would anyone actually need him? He wasn’t sure. But of course, Elise came first in everything. He should be protecting her tonight.

-or forever. Still, Maxi didn’t know.

Action: Looking out for anything suspicious
Stats: Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 8 | Strength: 2 | Wisdom: 8 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 8
Abilities: Lovely Creature | Perfectionist

[1][2][3][4]

Not Exactly the target he would be expecting in this moment, especially not after the first Triumphant battle against the Giant. However, the who or why was far less important than the fact that it was happening at all. @Erin Ryan Could have said they were targeting a professor over cheese cake and he would go along with it. He was committed at this point

Kyle looked towards @Selim Faust and offered a shrug and a simple "Cheers mate" before he closed his right hand into a fist, cocked back and threw his own punch towards the boy whom he had never met before. At the very least, as a wand had been drawn he could justify this as preventing an escalation of the situation. After all, what kind of violent reprobate casts spells in a large crowded ballroom? Was that justification shoddy at best and paper thin? Yes.

Successful or not in the combined attack Kyle noticed Erin's hand reach out blindly for him, searching. A smile came to the rough and tumble irish boy's face as he would push his arm to meet her hand so she could grab onto him. "If there is anyone here who could use a good ass kicking, Theres a snake. Blonde boy on the dueling team, Some stupid Viking wanna be name that starts with an E...Erik. Been wanting to kick his teeth in since last year. Long as you dont mind fighting a house mate, That's who I'd target if they're even here"

Action: Punching Selim with Erin (Sorry Selim)

Stamina: 10|Evasion: 4|Strength: 15|Wisdom: 2|ArcPower: 5|Accuracy: 5

Obnoxiously Strong: +10% strength

Mod Posts
First | Second | Third | Fourth | Fifth | Sixth | Seventh | Eighth | Ninth | Tenth

While the music was chilling out, the fight for the doll was heating up. Certainly, the doll was immobile and caught, but there were vastly different ideas about what to do with it. @Xailah Alptraum was the one with the doll in her hand, but where would the doll be once the dust settled?

Initiative
Selim 1d100 [62], Maya id100 [51], Xailah 1d100 [7], Meenauh 1d100 [56],
Erin [70], Thomas [76], Kyle [80]
Kyle > Thomas > Erin > Selim > Meenauh > Maya > Xailah
Effect:
Because Selim is going before Meenauh and Maya, Xailah is now dodging.

The timing was essential, but it would still come down to accuracy. Was @Selim Faust's wand as disobedient as he thought, would the ball finally be set ablaze? Would @Kyle DeRook or @Erin Ryan stop him, would @Thomas Lestrange stop Erin?

And what a fight it was. As the doll was frozen in the clutches of its beloved, old rivalries flared, and a Hogwarts tradition continued despite @Maya Galim's best efforts to contain it immediately. If only she had been slightly quicker...

There was another chance that he could have been stopped-- Erin's professional hook looked like pure perfection, maybe even as good as the one Kyle had landed. Yet somehow even that did not land on the slippery snake with the full weight behind it. Even though the aim was true, Selim had found a way to move that softened the blow significantly. Thomas had tried to stop Erin before she could swing, being the quickest to draw his wand, but as with the last ball, he would find it a challenge to actually target the blonde blur. Now, there was thousands of bright green lights glistening around the group the fight. Anyone can now freely notice the doll fight taking place.

There was another part of these magical green sparks that some astute DADA students might remember-- it reveals secrets hidden behind dark magic. As it so happened, Thomas was illuminating quite the interesting group of students. Anyone standing behind Erin would barely see something under her long, flaxen hair. Something about her back... as it was covered, this would take further inspection, or moving her hair aside, to understand. What was suddenly clear however was her swollen joints, and skeletal structure that seemed skewed or perhaps warped. The only other obvious change, if one was paying attention, was how Vladimir's hands under the green light were black as pitch.

There were more subtle changes as well, an investigation amidst all the action would perhaps reveal some tantalizing clues about the strange students. The sparks only last briefly (one round) however, so the window is closing.

Instead, Selim's wand burst with beautiful flame, though the graceful cat was nearly as slippery as he was. She was keenly aware of when it was appropriate to be light on her feet. She saved herself and the doll from a fiery fate, but the curtains nearby were not so lucky. They drank the magical flame like they had been anxiously awaiting the opportunity. FIRE!!!


@Meenauh Silmataurea successfully cast and aimed her spell at Selim, but his ninja-like reflexes were hard to predict. He didn't move like a normal 12-year-old moved. He was always on the look-out for danger, and seemed to know exactly where it was coming from. Things weren't about to get better for her any time soon. Maya's spell created a beautiful arc of water that glistened in the candlelight, soaking Selim's dashing outfit to the bone. Now he was wet and nearly unconscious, but he had started a fire as he intended.

As it turned out, the doll was still in Xailah's hand 1d3 for duration [3] = 2 rounds and its frozen form seemed to be ever so slightly softening. Only a short while before it was once again a free agent. She had apologized to it... wasn't every word out of her mouth like a message from heaven? A honeyed edict from the lips of his pure, dark maiden. It would be sure to do whatever it took to deserve such a humble goddess, it would tear the world into a million pieces if the two of them could fit on the final fragment.

Above, a short flight to get some fresh air was going horribly wrong. It wasn't @Piérre Marchonné's fault, of course, @Marion Davenport chose to fall on purpose. Piérre was a keen enough observer to note something was wrong before the ear-piercing scream of a girl plummeting to her death, but was there anything he could do?


His noticed the unweaving hands, her cold body slipping away from an embrace on his back. Swiftly, he moved to grab her, but her rose-smelling, oily hand slipped through his fingers. She screamed as she fell, in full sight of everyone gathered, aimed at an unfortunate prefect. @Vladimir Athanatos's date Madeline Nakamura (@Aaron Jones) was not just standing idly by. Having been watching the chaos unfold, she was prepared to take action when a young girl began to fall.

Marion fell on Meenauh, but both of them had been rescued from the crash of the train wreck. Marion was far too light to cause significant damage to Meenauh, and the subsequent fall onto the ground felt like jumping into a soft bed. Seeing as Marion was particularly fragile, the collision with her classmate was still painful, just not nearly as painful as the death plummet she was expecting.

As Marion entered the sparkling green lights from above, nearly every inch of her exposed skin was black. All around her body, spottily reaching up to her face, the darkness consumed her previously pale flesh. That wasn't normal.

Just because a fight with an evil doll was happening and a fire was starting, that didn't mean there wasn't time for more broken hearts churning out some broken noses. @Rafael D'Spacito had entered beast mode, but his target wasn't Vladimir as he had thought, but the unassuming first year @Jackson Valentine who dared to dance with a girl he liked.

Rafael punches Jackson
Rafael's aim: 1d20 [5] + 8 = 13 (failure)
Jackson's evasion: 1d20 [6] + 12 = 18 (success)

He didn't hit him though. It seemed this youth was more exceptional at dodging than nearly anyone his age. It paid off, though it was doubtful that the confrontation would end here.

Alexei Petrov (@Anastasia Beckett) and Maximilien de Fostoncy (@Lindsey Springhall) would both easily see the doll fight at this point. No amount of distraction was going to stop them from hearing Marion's scream or seeing the growing fire. There was more to see, however.

Alexei looks for something suspicious DC 10, DC 20 1d20 [2] + 4 = 6 (failure)

Maximilien looks for something suspicious DC 10, DC 20 1d20 [14] + 8 = 22 (success)

Alexei would not see the other fight taking place, nor much of anything besides the obvious. Too many girls around. Maximilien however would see Rafael's fight, as well as something odd where the green light show was taking place... there was something that wasn't right... some shadows were missing.

Actions this round
@Santario Martin left the ball.

[font=Monotype Corsiva]For your consideration[/font]

• There is normally a mod post every Friday, but seeing as it will be Christmas Day, I am going to instead extend the mod to two weeks, meaning the next mod will be on January 1st. Happy holidays!
• There are two parties going on simultaneously, the Masquerade in the Ballroom and the Costume Party in the Rehearsal Room. Both are on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, so travelling between the two does not take much time. For ease of moderation, please clearly denote when you are going from one to the other. During moderation, this takes a full action.
• Your characters are no longer able to join the ongoing Hunt. People who have already joined the Hunt can still travel between all three locations, but each movement will still take a full action unless otherwise stated.
• Because changing parties is considered an action, this means you can switch once a week, though that also means you won't be able to take another action until the next mod.
• Actions besides changing parties are any attempt to do something to someone else such as attack, investigate, cast any spell, or generally anything that has a chance to fail depending on your stats. Minor interactions that are agreed upon between two players are free to take as much as you like. If you're unsure whether your intended plan involves an action, you can feel free to message me for clarification. Please do not roll your own actions even if they are minor.

"One mask is broken, but it is much harder to break the ones beneath the skin. "

Speaking to: @Maya Galim, @Erin Ryan & @Xailah Alptraum

Selim glared in anger at his wand, he had missed.

Oh, the spell had been cast, but his aim had been thrown off by his mask. Instead of fire consuming that stupid doll, it beautifully lit up the room, dancing dangerously as it consumed the curtains.

He could see figures inside the flames, twirling and contorting as their faces yawned at him, mocking him, haunting him.

A punch came from one side, a random male attacking him and failing, as many others except Erin had. He was truly living up to his house's mascot. A twisting snake, bending and moving each which way to near-unnatural degrees to evade attackers, before striking back with the accuracy of a hawk and the venom of a scorpion.

He heard laughter from one of the phantoms as it drifted over the crowd like a dementor, diving toward him like a wraith, face contorting into something cursed. His heart clenched as he watched with open eyes, but it disappeared before it's spindly figures reached him. All that was in it's place was curling smoke.

He shook his head, this wasn't the time, wasn't the time to slip from reality. He cast a look at Vladimir, eyes apologetic, but in that time that pest Erin Ryan moved.

Perhaps, if Selim had the time, he'd admire the girl's fighting ability, but he didn't.

The hook came right under his guard. His honed instincts were screeching at him, and he moved again, but not fast enough. There's only so much a twelve-year-old can do in a chaotic situation like this.

The fist smashed into his mask, and like bone, it shattered.

Shards of hard plastic pierced his skin, blood spraying around him in a deceptively beautiful arc. One just missed his eye, digging into the cheek and hitting the bone and muscle beneath. He almost lost an eye from that move, because of a girl's petty 'revenge'.

Pain arched through him as he instinctively rolled with the move, ivory bone falling beneath where he had stood. Blood stained his vision, and the eye where the hit had landed below was blurred, not just because of the scarlet running down his pale face. No, his contact lens had fallen out, revealing one amber eye.

A few spells fired at him, and he dodged them instinctively, nausea rolling in his stomach as his world spun disjointedly. The 's companion had shot a spell at him, and failed again. Perhaps that would be infuriating to the other upperclassmen, but he didn't care. His mind fished up a random piece of knowledge, the prefect list, the Gryffindor prefect. He forgot her name, but he could recognize the eyes now, the hair, the distinct feline aura she gave off with one look.

So not only had the upperclassmen been breaking the rules and attacking a fellow student unprompted with magic, but she was also a prefect, they're supposed to help protect the student body.

Disappointment and anger flared once more, his bloodlust, which had taken over without him noticing, flared. His logic was barely controlling it.

"We're injured and bleeding. We're nearly-unconscious. We cannot fight without risking our lives.:

Karma turned against him once more, interrupting, as he was doused with water. Blood was washed away, and the water dripped off him, forming a rust-tinted puddle on the ground. It actually soothed his stinging wounds slightly, he supposed now they had less of a chance to catch infection now. He looked toward who had cast the spell, a professor.

His annoyed expression eased into one of understanding. He accepted his drenched form as a minor, temporary punishment for setting this event aflame, if unintentionally.

Half the mask had been broken, the other remained stuck to his face, eye still blue in it's deep-set socket. He was wet, but his wounds still sluggishly bled red. He didn't dare take out the shards of his mask, or else his bleeding would quicken. Then he was distracted by a flash of green and he peered at the lime-lit scene before him.

Vlad's hands were black, and the girl who had fallen was completely black as she entered the eerie light.

Erin Ryan looked like a skeletal puppet. Selim observed here with narrowed, odd-colored eyes, the whole scene bringing up thoughts of the spiders' curse from last year, and how the Scarecrow looked before he himself hand ended the scarred, suffering boy.

His eyes glinted in the fire with new knowledge, but he was quickly brought to reality as his pain spiked. He let out a hiss, one hand reaching up to his injured face and coming away stained red. He swore, standing unsteadily as he swayed on the spot, vision blurring, depth perception skewed wildly.

He glared at Erin in all her skeletal, swollen glory. A thought darted across his mind as he spoke to her in a strained, low voice. "What happened to you, Ryan? Make a deal with the Devil? I wonder if the reward was worth the obvious cost."

His voice was hissing, cruel. He knew this was tied to magic, dark magic, as the green spark spell was from DADA. He didn't have time to analyze it though, he was too busy bleeding out.

With a disjointed motion, he stood up straight in all his blood-stained, twelve-year-old majesty, and turned to his previous intended target. "If you want to live up to your 'Prefect' title, dear upperclassmen, then you should throw that cursed doll in the fire before it injures someone you're supposed to be protecting." His voice was accusatory, obviously stating that if the girl couldn't do this one simple things, she wasn't living up to her title.

With that he dipped his head in Vlad's direction, and darted over to the professor who had decided to actually take care of her charges. He hid behind her, clutching the mangled half of his face.

He felt dizzy.

"I'm sorry, professor, I didn't intend to catch everything on fire. It was the only thing I could think of doing against that doll in the moment, especially since it wanted to stab me."

He actually sounded apologetic, as his rather pitiful wet figure swayed in place. "Before you send me off to detention can you keep me from being attacked by the blond, I'd rather not be knocked out in this chaos."

His breath came a bit rapid as his newly-twisted depth perception opened the door to his mind's horrors. Shadowy figures shrouded real people as the flames grew, beings dancing inside it, haunting whispers cluttering his mind once more as pain dully throbbed through him. He shivered silently, more from the things he saw and heard then actually being drenched in water. A pity, he had liked this attire, but honestly, what was he to expect from this school? He should have backup outfits for his backup outfits.

The whispers grew louder, making his headache burst into a full-blown migraine. It hurt to talk, ivory was scraping against bone, and his amber eye was clenched shut against the stinging blood leaking into it.

His jaw was clicking and stinging every time he moved. "I think... my jaw is broken...." He coughed, blood leaking into his mouth from his cheek, dribbling down into his throat. Wincing and clutching his head, nails digging into skin, he muttered profanity in Japanese under his breath and sunk to the floor. "I think... I'm just going to sit here. It's too loud, and everything hurts..." He hissed, but kept speaking, slipping into Japanese in his sluggishness. "I haven't had it this bad... since Otou-sama trained me in summer... probably why I'm not knocked out right now."

He leaned against the professor, lacking the ability t hold himself upright even while he sat. He was going to get some scars on his face now, it seems. Guess he and the Fox no longer matched.

It was odd, how he felt safer around the professor. Usually he stayed far away from adults, for valid reasons, obviously. Maybe he was too clouded in his thinking to feel the same, deep-rooted fear he usually did when interacting with the adults of the school.

He watched the fight through half-lidded eyes, speaking no longer as he observed reality mix with his nightmares in a haunting scene. Idly, under his breath, he hummed a haunted tune. Had he been in this professor's class? He forgot... actually he felt like he was forgetting a lot of things in that moment.

His eyes drifted to the ground as he watch his blood drip to the ground below in a sticky fashion, plopping down wetly in a familiar manner. His mind darted back to his time in that dungeon, trapped, afraid, alone, in pain. He remembered watching red drip to the ground as pieces of him were taken and broken into smaller shards of himself, until he forgot who he really was.

Now he had glued the pieces back together, but it came out warped, different from before. Not all of them fit, so they floated as their own entity, inside his head. They were like masks, but weren't truly fake. They were him, just a different him.

He didn't dwell on it as his hands loosely clutched his skull, pain no where near comparable to That Day, scraping against his spine like knives. He was tired, he had done all he could for the Eagle he had chosen to ally himself to. Now it was someone else's turn.

He was, after all, only twelve.

Sometimes it was hard for him to remember that.

The scene would devolve into chaos. Erin continuing with her petty rivalries, a simple plan. To hurt what Jack cared for since that was certainly not her. Yes, it was jealousy and spite. She had hardly realized the slow change within her, how the crones held their end of this Faustian deal. This bubbling animosity drove her rather than an abstract want, indeed she felt it and that was a terrible change. It was all she felt, the shame and the resentment, the loneliness and the rage. Selim would suffer for it.

She would hit him with the sum of her strength, her weight behind her dominant hand as her knuckles hit the Slytherin's mask. A *crack* could be heard as the brittle covering was shattered. Erin was not a trained fighter, more a brute with a pretty face. On a positive note, the blood on her knuckles was red, a mixture of both @Selim Faust's and her own.

Somehow the spindly youth was still standing, he did not look like he was capable of enduring a stiff breeze, much less the Slytherin's interminabidable wrath. @Kyle DeRook joined in the fray, unfussed by the fact that this dance was more a brawl than a romantic interlude. Unruffled by the fact that she was targeting an ex, well an ex's 'boyfriend' as she called him. He missed, as Erin almost did. They would finish him she thought but mitigating circumstances caused a changed course.

“Ryan, you’ve become quite predictable.”

A flash of green sparks by none other than the circuitous @Thomas LeStrange. She blinked, not blinded by the verdant light, her body was bathed in the revealing illumination. She staggered back, unharmed but cognizant of what could be seen. Her stomach felt like it had been filled with lead weights; her head pounded between her temples and her eyes scanned the source. Her lip curled in disgust. Predictable, she scoffed. "You're good for nothing but --" she snapped, never finishing the sentence. She was agitated but more than that, she had something to hide.

Her hand would search for Kyle hand and grasp it tightly as she attempted to back away. "Have fun mopping up the mess, Prefect." Another puppet for the death witches, the giants and the crones. She was not going to give him anything else to take when she had so little.

For but a moment, the truth would be apparent. The part Veela's beauty was only skin deep. Beneath the tanned skin and powerful muscle was a twisted and pained carriage. Swollen joints and bones that are twisted and bent. There was a change at her very core, beneath the care and refinement of her physical weapon were undermined by something terrible and dark from deep within. She needed to run before the truth could be seen.

"What happened to you, Ryan? Make a deal with the Devil? I wonder if the reward was worth the obvious cost."

"Not in the least," she hissed in reply. She was leaving, breaking away from this fray. Before the right question was asked. Before the actual, dire truth was seen. "And none of your damned business, Fangs." They were not friends or colleagues or whatever it was that Jack and him considered one another to be, even if the claim reeked of utter bullshit like most things either said. Her stubbornness and power of will were greater than the flimsy bonds between any of them.

An excuse to leave would not be hard to come up with. A victory lap, they felled the giant and this sickly Asian was on his last leg. The ballroom was on fire, thanks to Faust. A public health threat of a greater degree than her fists. Then there was the jumper on the broom she saw out of the corner of her eye that she barely paid heed to. She was an irrelevant to her. Someone that did not matter, dead or alive... well or not.

"Let's go," Erin announced. It was not an order, despite the power in her voice. She just would not say it like it actually was, a plea. Please leave. She -had- to leave and she did not want be -seen- walking away. A tug. A pull. If he did not follow, her hand would attempt to slip out of his if she ever held his.

It would be only then that he would see it, no reason to look at her when they were side by side. Too close to see, missing the forest one could say for the trees. He was the only one close enough to see when she turned his back to him. Her long, thick blonde tresses hid the marks, well most of them despite the emerald glow of LeStrange's wand. The sway of her flaxen tresses would reveal the truth for but a moment but could be easily misinterpreted. She was strong, her bare shoulders knew the weight of physical and emotional burden. Perhaps it was merely muscles that rippled ever so slightly, in an unnatural manner. A trick of the light. Imagination. The scars, those were real. Kyle knew about scars, about marks that changed the canvas of flesh permanently. He bore one on his face, not that she ever asked where from. Perhaps she should have, then she would know that she should be running from more than Thomas' night light trick.

Action: Attempts to Leave with or without Kyle.