Banner template from @Winnie Athanatos

Octavius looked at the cathedral, undoubtedly taller than his own home, and looked at the five boys with him; Simon, Ben, Tonto, Baldrick and Clark. He looked at their tuxes and murmured at the sight of the wrinkles on Tonto's shirt. "Boys!" He yelled, his tone vibrated with exhaustion. He sighed loudly, and took a breath before resuming what he was just previously doing. "Baldrick, did you do this?" He asked, knowing full well that he had ironed and smoothed out all of the wrinkles from the suits. He expected this from Clark, but not from Baldrick, of whom responded back with a silly smile on his face.

He didn't think this was anything to punish them over, so he would just accept being annoyed. Annoyed that the Bairds never looked their best at a formal event, annoyed that there was someone that ridiculed him and his family-line. He just wanted a good impression, a good hand to rely upon should shit hit the fan.

But he should accept this fate, the fate in where he would not be making it to the end of his life with a friend in hand. He heard someone yelling his name, and here came Ronnie Kennedy yelling and hollering in his Russian accent. "Octavius! Stop! You forgot something!" Honestly, Octavius already felt awkward enough coming to see his students get married, and while a thing to celebrate about, he couldn't help but feel weirded out.

He grabbed the bag from Ronnie's hand and felt the weight rapidly increase, causing his arms to droop. Inside was a bag of galleons, a couple hundred, a customary Bairdic gift that.. was probably the most normal out of all of the Baird gifts that could've been given.

He grabbed Tonto and Baldrick's shoulders, since they were short enough for him to rest his hands on without being in an awkward pose where his shoulderblades were above his ears or in some other unusual position. He pushed them forward, hand still resting, and they all walked inside.

Tonto and Baldrick spearheaded the group, Octavius right on their tail, Clark following Octavius, hoping not to be seen. Simon and Ben practically skipped behind, both alternating leading positions, and finally Ronnie as he squinted his eyes hoping not to see the blinding amount of pink that flooded the room.

Octavius pushed the six-year-olds into what he presumed was a set of empty seats sitting several rows back behind some old people. He sighed, knowing his wedding with Ronnie was not going to have as many people, or at least, that was the intention. A quiet, peaceful wedding in the middle of the woods, perhaps nearby a creek.

But that was neither then or now, so he had (while thinking about his wedding with Ronnie) to watch Winnie Harper become Winnie Athanatos. Lovely? Perhaps. He tried not to think about the two sealing the deal and tried to concentrate on making the family look the best.

Entering the ballroom, leaving this

This farce of a ceremony was finally coming to its less than satisfying conclusion. His brother kissed Winnie -now- Athanatos and the scene made Gideon visibly nauseated. Their lips met with the sticky sound of meat being suctioned from bone. Tongues like startled eels, searching, prodding, tasting something awful.

He looked away to save his appetite for the evening. This ceremony would soon be over, he would tend to Taylor and then make something of the evening that remained. Winnie thanked the guests and Pride (forever in Gideon's heart) mocked his rivals. As soon as the flames took him, Gideon broke from his place alongside his fellow groomsmen like a shot.

He stepped over flower petals like a man storming through a battlefield, suit sharp, hands clenched. His eyes locked on Taylor.

She stood in one of the first pews, her head half turned toward the altar, pupils too wide, expression too empty. There was a twitch in her left hand that reminded him of a dying spider. A whisper of something crawling just beneath her skin.

He knew that look.

“Not you,” he muttered. “Not you too.” In a sudden motion, he seized her by the wrist and pulled the girl to her feet.

He didn’t wait for her to resist. He did not care what she had to say. With a stormy pivot, he dragged her towards the fire-wreathed altar. Guests turned their heads in confusion. Not at what was expected, where they should go next , as that was obvious to all but the muggles in the pews. They were intended to leave for the Augury Cloister in an orderly fashion via the floo site that they had just opened. Only, Gideon was moving to the front of the line. A couple of guests called out Gideon's name. One hand even reached out to stop him.

Giddy didn’t slow.

The great Floo basin flared to life as he murmured the destination through gritted teeth before the priest Nepenthe had the opportunity. “Augury Cloister.”

Gideon stepped in first, then yanked Taylor through after him, wrapped in flame.

And just like that, they would both be gone.

Left topic for the ballroom.

Taylor was hoisted from the pew to her feet by Gideon. Her cousin had gripped her wrist hard enough to bruise. She instinctively pulled back but he pulled forward. Her heels dragged over the pink flower petals, ripping the delicate blooms, leaving torn wings behind her. "I can walk myself," she protested.

But she let him pull her.

She let the crowd gasp and glance, their confusion thick in the air like incense. Some might think this was a lovers’ quarrel, perhaps it was. A cousin’s tantrum, that one was absolutely true. They saw a girl in a fine dress, pale and dazed, too small to be dangerous.

Gideon’s hand on her wrist burned like prophecy. And oh, how the bones beneath her skin hummed in recognition. She did not look at him as he dragged her. She looked through him. Past him. To the flame-lit floor of Sanctum Noctis, black basalt etched with the forgotten sigils of a hundred vows and betrayals. The faceless saints on the walls turned their blind eyes toward her and smiled. It's on.

In her head, her aunties whispered.

Do not fight the wind, devushka [girl]. Let it carry you where the forest is watching. Let the boy play wolf. He does not know the old names you keep in your pocket.

But she still resisted. She was not going to follow Gideon to the flames like a bride to her burning. But he was stronger, he would pull her through.

And then they were gone. Wrapped in fire.

Left topic for the ballroom.

Gideon had been staring at his cousin like she had just stabbed a box of kittens. No, even worse. Like she had saved a box of kittens from being stabbed. That would have really pissed him off.

The creepy wedding ceremony was finally over. Nepenthe was the sort of priest that made corpses look healthy. He sore that guy was that old when his grandfather got married. Thank the many faceless Gods. Hess was counting the minutes until he could go home, scrub the sanctified weirdness off his skin, and maybe, just maybe... make out with someone halfway decent-looking at the reception. Thaddeus, in all his pureblood magnanimity, had apparently invited the entire wizarding world and a smattering of muggles. Something about diversity and optics. Whatever.

Then the flames came.

The bride and groom, gone. Just taken. Nepenthe had uttered their destination for them, ensured safe passage or something comforting like that surely.

Gideon vaulted over the first pew to the second where Taylor sat still recovering from her vision. She was still young, that was likely one of her first and it was a rough one for even him.

“Giddy, hold on—”

Jurgen’s voice was behind him, but it barely registered. Gideon didn’t slow. He reached the altar in seconds, scooped Taylor up like she was a rag doll, and flung her to her feet.

Something was wrong. More wrong than usual, but the Gryffindor was not sure with whom. Women were generally a problem in their family, and rightfully they kept them at an arm's length. But it was rather apparent from his vantage point that Giddy was the aggressor in this case.

He took two steps forward, then stopped cold. He was too late, he pulled the girl with him into the flames and then they were gone. Hess probably should have ran in after them, prevented whatever scene they were about to make but he politely and uncomfortably entered the queue that was forming for the floo. He would just mop up whatever mess they made and then spend the rest of the evening at the bar like any sane man would.

Left topic for the ballroom.

Aamon watched helplessly, emphasis on the LESS, as Gideon, in his usual swirling mass of unholy authority and tragic flair, quite literally dragged Taylor off. Well, wasn't that lovely. What exactly was Aamon supposed to do? Throw hands at the altar like a rejected soap opera character? No thank you. Getting his ass kicked by his moody brother was not on today’s humiliation schedule. He had already checked. TWICE.

So instead of playing the hero and getting his backside kicked, Aamon took a sharp, steadying breath, straightened his spine like he hadn’t just watched his cousin get abducted by a sociopath and tried to look impassive. He could do that. He had the chin and cheekbones.

Aamon glanced over to where Nabi was seated with some older women that looked like an older, equally grumpy version of her. Probably her grandmother he reasoned. What was truly notable was where she wasn’t seated. He had noticed it earlier but half expected the duo to gravitate towards one another, but they were both in very different parts of the church. Matthew Campbell and Nabi Park were perpetually attached at the him. Not that Aamon cared. He definitely did not care. He just happened to notice. Like one notices a storm cloud or a pile of cursed jewelry in the sockdrawer. The distance sent a quiet flicker of smug satisfaction through his battered Slytherin soul. Maybe the universe wasn’t entirely out to ruin his life today.

Aamon redirected his gaze to a nearby urn, artifact or enchanted goblet. Admittedly, he was challenged to anticipate the difference and just hoped that he was not drinking from an urn that used to hold Aunt Petunia's ashes when he drank some grape juice pretending it was wine. Once re-grounded, he casually stepped down from the altar several strides behind Gideon, of course. Distance was key when your brother might be (definitely is) staging a kidnapping.

He made a polite but firm beeline toward the Muggle seating section. Separate but equal and all that jazz. “Hey man,” Aamon said coolly when he reached Campbell (@Matthew Campbell) and the random vagrant (his father) he invited. “I’m going to need to talk to you for a few minutes at the reception hall. Clear the air. That sort of thing.” His voice carried that kind of vague nonchalance people used when absolutely nothing was okay but they refused to admit it in front of witnesses.

Before the fellow snake could respond, Aamon was already excusing himself and slipping forward in the queue with the kind of solemnity reserved for getting into heaven or the bathroom at a cursed afterparty. He had plans. Namely, arriving before Campbell and his undoubtedly overwhelmed Muggle parent to ensure the optics favored him, as they damn well should.

Left topic for the ballroom.

Interacting with: @Dylan Astor, @Mikey Forville, and @Valentin DeAngelo Mentioning: N/A Date: 08/10/25

Word Count: 262

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Athanatos. Avery froze at the words of a pureblood man she now recognized. Avery stood there, staring. Eyes wide as the realization dawned on her. He was an Athanatos. Avery knew that famous pureblood family name. Her father had warned her about them. He had probably met them before, but she couldn’t recall ever meeting any of them. That name alone caused her uneasiness to grow. Something must have been hidden behind their faces. Nothing is normal with pureblood families. Old prejudice and a foundation of lies ruled her family, so she knew all too well the dangers of being around a family like this. She would have to tread carefully. Avery watched carefully as the ceremony concluded. She tensed as people began to file out and head towards where the reception would be held. Avery gave Dylan a quick glance and saw that he was talking with Val, so she walked on alone. Unsure of what would become of her if she tread alone. She hadn’t seen anyone else she knew yet, so she hoped that the reception would change things. Avery approached the floo network fire with confidence. Not willing to show how much her hands were shaking. She had used the floo network all her life, but tonight was different. Tonight she was going headfirst into something she didn’t even know if she would survive or not. That alone scared her more. Instead of letting her fear consume her, she stood up straighter. Shoulders back and head held high. Ready to face the fire she was about to see.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Mentions: @Mathias Pride, @Thaddeus Athanatos, @Winnie Harper

Jacob felt uneasy as the final parts of the ceremony reached their conclusion. He wondered if it was a good idea to come here at all. After he was invited to the wedding, he would have been honored were it not for the rumors surrounding that of Mathias Pride.

And if none should infringe upon this union,” The priest intoned there. Suddenly, there was wind accompanied by endurance, accompanied by incense that seemed to portend an ominous omen.

"then by the ancient words and the veiled light, I now declare Mathias Pride and Winnie Harper—”

A loud snap was issued, and a silencing spell was cast over the entire room; even Jacob was affected by this. Then a voice spoke, a deep and terrible voice, "Not Pride, Athanatos" he declared as if a victory had been declared. "I name him my heir." Something tells Jacob that he'll regret coming to the wedding.

Mathias seemed to be on an adrenaline rush, and he said to the crowd, including Jacob, “And if any of you lot had a problem with this, you should’ve hexed me when I proposed. It is too late now.” This happened after all of that, his mother burst into the room along with all of his cousins, and they went to the reception. Jacob knew there was no going back and dreaded what they would have at the reception. But he would, at the very least, try to find out what was going on. He seemed to have pity for Winnie Harper. "Augury Cloister."

Leaving for the Ballroom

Interacting with: @Avery Gray and @Valentin DeAngelo Mentioning: N/A Date: N/A

Word Count: 215

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Dylan watched the wedding take place until a creak sounded. He quickly turned around and was surprised to find a familiar face right there. A girl he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about ever since their fateful meeting the day after the ball. Val. Dylan smiled and waved her over. Knowing that speaking would probably end up getting him in trouble. He stood there with her. Watching carefully and noticing Avery tense at the name Athanatos. He too knew the name of the pureblood family, but he didn’t know why Avery seemed so nervous. He had never seen her like that before. Something must have been wrong and he had to find out what. “Athanatos. I never thought I’d hear that name.” Dylan muttered under his breath. Val had probably heard him, but he didn’t see her react. At least, he didn’t think he did. Before he could ask Avery what was bothering her, he watched her glance back and walk towards the floo network that would take her to the reception. He sighed. Unsure of what he should do now. Without thinking, he grabbed Val’s hand and squeezed it. His hand tingling where it touched hers. “You ready to go?” He whispered to her before he let go and started to follow Avery.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

⌜

⌝

__◇ IC Date: --

Speech: #1d5758 ◇ __

__◇ Thoughts: Italic	Mentions: N/A ◇__
⌞	⌟

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

The ceremony proceeded. Vows were made, kisses were exchanged, yet nothing felt right about this wedding.

Elisa fiddled with the midnight blue velvet of her dress, wrapping the loose ends of the black ribbon around her fingers. She wasn't paying much attention to what was happening anymore - mostly because she barely understood half of what the eerie priest was saying, but also because... well, she didn't much enjoy the somber atmosphere of this place. She listened half-heartedly as the priest drooled on, his heavy voice vibrating off the walls of the cathedral and returning in echos. The mere thought of that was creepy enough.

Elisa was twirling a strand of hair fallen loose from her braid when suddenly, a ripple moved through the air, sending a shiver up her spine. She sensed ancient magic around her, not unlike the faint vibration in the walls she knew so well at Hogwarts, though much more intense. Her head jerked up and her eyes searched for her fathers' in hope for reassurance. She could only see that he looked... thoughtful. Whatever her father might have been thinking, he hid it well from the innocent eyes of his daughter.

That was when a voice, not that of the priest, sounded from the ceremony. Her eyes followed the sound and met an elderly man with an imposing demeanour. Elisa fidgeted on her seat, unsure of what would follow. With his solemn voice, the man announced, "Not Pride. Athanatos." Athanatos. The name rung a bell in Elisa's head. "Out of respect for the Athanatos... Had her grandparents known then? Elisa dared a glance towards elderly Mr. and Mrs. Wagner. The first seemed lost in thought, the latter delightfully surprised. The young girl frowned - all this was beyond her understanding.

The crowd stood still as the vows were pronounced and the bride and groom kissed. Even from afar, Elisa could distinguish the look of triumph on the newly appointed Athanatos heir's face, but whatever the bride was feeling, it was not the same sense of success.

The ceremony drew to an end, and the familiar green flames of the Floo Network erupted from nowhere. The guests rose from their seats and Elisa and her family followed into the harmless fire.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

Elisa has left this thread for the ballroom