The Ballroom
ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ |
| ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ |
❤︎❤︎❤︎
Reducio𝕿𝖍𝖊 reception would take place in the famed Augury Cloister. A space of prophecy and the site where Winnie Harper's fate would be sealed. The site would be relatively unknown to muggleborns, even those most academically inclined, but for purebloods this site is known as a 'holy place' for prophets. [Information is only accessible to purebloods and requires a very high Wisdom Roll]
The main ballroom was a cathedral of excess, a cavernous space sculpted from pale marble and indulgent feminine fantasy. Every surface gleamed beneath the soft cascade of crystal chandeliers, their many facets of warm light scattering like rain across the polished floor. The floor was a mixture of rare, fine grained woods. Columns of rose gold-veined marble stretched high into the vaulted ceiling, framing the room in a display of quiet grandeur. Between these great arches, sweeping arches curved like the ribs of some ancient, sleeping beast.
Everything shimmered in shades of pink, the bride seemed to have a say in the decor. It wasn’t the sugary pink of childhood, but something more delicate. The shy blush of Princess Hitomi and Wabara Senlitsu roses. Both roses that Mathias had become accustomed to during his time in Mahoutokoro. In fact, he insisted that these specific roses be imported in time for 'their'—although he meant 'his'—special day. Cascading arrangements of fresh roses hung in garlands from the arches and along the top plate of the walls, their petals so vivid they almost seemed painted. Thorny vines potted with the same fair blooms intricately woven, wound deliberately along the balustrades, a quiet reminder that beauty could bleed.
The scent of roses, heady, almost narcotic, hung heavy in the air, mingling with the distant note of string music and crooning song, slow and seductive. Silken drapes in blush and pearl shimmered against the walls, catching the light like watered silk. Beyond this ballroom, grand windows would reveal choppy waters that expanded into the infinite. They were far above the waters, the jagged stones below would end a most terrible fall.
A stage made of wood, certainly not a part of the original design and even more certainly temporary. On this stage, beneath an archway of roses and a single crystal heart was a trio of pure Veela harpists. They crooned a haunting melody as they plucked their instrument. It was music not intended for dancing, but rather atmosphere.
House elves hurried about, burdened by great platters of rich smoked meats and rare, foreign treats sized for greedy fingers. The house elves donned the same small, pink tuxedo. Fitted to their barrel-like bodies and spindly arms. The house elves, like the roses were a part of the scene. It was a place made not just for dancing, but for spectacle.
This was not simply a ballroom. It was a spell woven of roses, marble, and power. Everyone inside was already caught in its web.
Passed & Standing Appetizers
To be enjoyed upon arrival.
❁ Smoked Bone Marrow Crostini with elderflower gelée and pink salt
❁ White Asparagus Spears wrapped in soft cheese and ash-laced pastry
❁ Blindfruit Carpaccio with shaved truffle, pistachio crumble, and lemon oil
❁ Crisped Sweetbreads dusted with fennel pollen and beetroot sugar
❁ Dream-Honey Gougères, oozing with aged goat cheese and cracked pepper
❁ Bloodroot Pickled Quail Eggs, cracked at table for divinatory fun
❁ Wiener Schnitzel on a stick.
Mini Game Prophecies (Quail Eggs)
The quail eggs when broken onto a ceremonial dish grant the user a prophecy. This is a divination party game that involves quail eggs and a shallow dish with two centimeters of scalding hot wine. There is a legitimate divinatory practice that used to be performed in ancient Greece known as ovomancy. Ovomancy involved the interpretation of the shapes formed when separated egg whites are dropped into hot water.
This is a simpler divinary practice, well in truth it is something else entirely but don't worry, it is just a game (probably). Simply crack and drop the egg whole into the dish. The wine would bubble, the small yolk and white would sink to the bottom of the dish, congealing at the bottom. Then a disembodied whisper only the diviner would hear would give them a 'prophecy.'
Roll 1d50 for personal prophecy. This costs 1 magical or mundane action.
Only the roller will experience the effect.
- "A blade sleeps beneath your pillow. It will not be yours when it wakes."
Effect: A cold wind brushes the neck; the faint sound of steel-on-stone grinding.- "The one you trust most has already traded your name."
Effect: Whispered voices argue behind the ears—none are recognizable.- "You will beg the stars for a second chance. They will not answer."
Effect: A flicker of stars dimming overhead, followed by total silence.- "Fire follows in your wake. One day, it will catch you."
Effect: Skin feels hot briefly; the scent of smoke curls in the nostrils.- "Something old watches. It remembers you."
Effect: A sudden flash of eyes in the periphery—vanishes when looked at.- "Your reflection walks without you."
Effect: A glimpse of movement in any nearby reflective surface.- "Blood will answer, even if you do not ask."
Effect: A phantom warmth seeps into the palms.- "Your laughter will echo in a tomb not meant for you."
Effect: A burst of hollow laughter—your own voice, but distant.- "You are not the dreamer. You are the dream."
Effect: Blurring of vision, like a waking from sleep.- "The last door you open will never close."
Effect: A sound of creaking hinges; pressure builds behind the eyes.- "A kiss will become your undoing."
Effect: A phantom brush of lips, cold and bitter.- "The thing in the dark does not want to be your friend."
Effect: A low rasping growl just beyond hearing.- "You’ve already made the wrong choice. You just don’t know it yet."
Effect: A subtle ringing in the ears; dizziness.- "This is not your life. It was borrowed."
Effect: Déjà vu washes over in a queasy wave.- "They will never believe what you saw."
Effect: A haunting echo of your own voice saying, “Look!”- "You’re already being followed."
Effect: A breath at your neck. No one is behind you.- "The one who loves you most will be the first to turn away."
Effect: Sudden pang of abandonment, like a snapped tether.- "You will miss their final words."
Effect: A fading voice on the wind—indistinguishable.- "The letter will arrive one day too late."
Effect: Sound of parchment tearing and wind howling through paper.- "You will not hold their hand at the end."
Effect: A chill around the fingers, aching with absence.- "You will break a heart you never meant to touch."
Effect: The scent of wilted roses and burnt sugar.- "The apology will never be heard."
Effect: A ghostly whisper of your own voice saying “I’m sorry.”- "Love will not save you this time."
Effect: Warmth blooms in the chest—then vanishes.- "A name will be carved where flowers used to grow."
Effect: The scent of damp soil and rain on stone.- "You were too late. You were always too late."
Effect: Clock hands tick frantically then shatter.- "The memory is all that remains, and even that will fade."
Effect: Brief flash of a childhood image, then gone.- "She will smile at someone else."
Effect: A phantom image of a familiar smile aimed elsewhere.- "You will spend your life repaying a debt of grief."
Effect: Chains rattle softly, binding unseen.- "The cradle is empty."
Effect: The echo of a lullaby in minor key.- "One day, they will forget your face."
Effect: Vision clouds as if erased from a portrait.- "They died believing you didn’t care."
Effect: Cold silence; taste of salt and iron.- "You will lie when it matters most."
Effect: Bitter taste in the mouth; throat tightens.- "A promise will cost you everything."
Effect: Ringing of ceremonial bells—dissonant, off-key.- "They buried the wrong body."
Effect: Rotting earth; scraping noises.- "The happiest day of your life will be someone else’s lie."
Effect: Confetti falls, but each flake is stained red.- "You will wake the thing that sleeps beneath."
Effect: Rumbling beneath your feet, like an ancient heartbeat.- "A crown of salt will sit upon your head."
Effect: A crashing wave sound, briny mist in the air.- "The wolf will kneel to you, but only once."
Effect: A great beast's snarl, then silence.- "Your hands will open the sky."
Effect: Thunder rumbles; a flash of lightning over head.- "You will eat the fruit and speak in tongues."
Effect: A moment of fluency in an ancient, unknown language.- "The blade will call you by name."
Effect: A whisper: “Wielder.”- "You are not the end. You are the gate."
Effect: A vision of infinite hallways and doors.- "Your heart is older than your bloodline."
Effect: Pulse echoes like a drum; your veins glow faintly.- "The beast will not eat you. It will serve."
Effect: Chains drop loudly, though none are seen.- "Three voices will speak your fate. One will lie."
Effect: Three whispers. One sweet. One bitter. One silent.- "You are the wound. You are the cure."
Effect: A burning sensation followed by soothing cold.- "The sea knows your name. It waits."
Effect: Gull cries. Distant crashing waves.- "You are descended from flame."
Effect: Flickering fire dances across the fingertips, painless.- "You were forged, not born."
Effect: A hammer striking anvil. The scent of steel.- "You will walk with giants. And bury them."
Effect: Footsteps shake the ground beneath you.How to Play in an Event
- Users must be actively registered in Index or approved iNPCs.
- Players can perform 1 magical and 1 mundane action each round. Magical would be the use of a spell or potion, an action can be throwing a (non-potion) drink in someone's face, throwing a punch, sipping wine. Speaking and walking between rooms are both considered free actions.
- Users can cross through multiple rooms in a single round, but they would need to post in each of them to get to the room that they are using. We ask that your RPs make sense, so you would not be simultaneously in every room seeing and performing actions.
- Guests generally arrive via floo for the most part. It is a couple hour train ride from London otherwise to attend this water-side venue.
- Some guests may arrive via other means and then simply use the front door. There is a front lawn with a doorway forum area.
- Please do not metagame, I know many of you have OC information about the character, possible intentions or connections to bigger things. Please do not use your OC knowledge to "stumble" onto the right answer. Note in my images there is a cliff, I will push you off it and claim you woke up a week later on some rocky shore with no memory of this wedding.
- This is moderated. Death is possible, but uncommon for player characters. Please try to make some decisions that would hint at a potential for survival.
- This is an OPEN thread, there may be players in this thread that you have a DNC with. Please respect the DNC and not mention or interface with one another if you both choose to play.
- In your signature or in your post, please provide stats and abilities.
- In terms of an inventory, you can have up to 5 doses of potions you know on your person. No, you are not able to claim you have a bandolier of potion phials waiting for use at a formal event.
- Please remember, this is a formal event. The items you bring with you on your person should be reasonable.
- You may bring 5 non-potion shop items.
Some stories should never be told...
The Ballroom
Warning: The following scene can be perceived as domestic abuse. In this scene Gideon is dragging Taylor from the fireplace to the bathrooms in what appears to be a rage. If these sorts of scenes induce distress, please consider skipping Gideon-based threads in this event because most of them will be distressing.
Reducio
The green flames spat them out into a room that smelled of roses and magic. The hearth at the Augury Cloister’s receiving hall was flanked in soft florals. Pink garlands like spun sugar draped across sconces, trailing down paper-lined walls. It was a place made for bliss and for beauty. Massive windows overlooked choppy waters and a darkening sky, it looked like as storm was rolling in, but there was nothing like the storm that was Gideon.
Gideon emerged from the hearth like a tempest breaking through calm waters. He was dragging Taylor behind him by the wrist, his face pale and wild with something primal.
He barely registered the room.
“How long?" he demanded, his voice low and close to her ear, raw from fear and something else. "How long has it been inside you?”
(Approved godmod) Taylor resisted, her kitten heels skidding against the polished floor, but it didn’t matter. Gideon yanked her forward. Her tiny arm twisted; she shrieked in pain and stumbled.
Onlookers nearby likely gasped, too shocked by the suddenness of it all to immediately react. There was of course a duality of impulse. Stand back, let the pair work out whatever this was and the white knights that would want to spring into action.
Then came the slap—not a backhand of rage but a panicked, flinching strike to her cheek, meant more to break her spellbound expression than to harm.
“You stupid, stubborn little hag—!” he growled, and the word landed like a curse. It was not an insult. It was a diagnosis.Mundane Action: Slap Taylor
He meant it.
The glint in her eye was wrong. Too many times they didn’t blink when they should. Too many times she looked through him. Something in her pulse had shifted, and he could feel it. But there was doubt as she struggled against his grip. When she shouted. When she acted like he was there to hurt her. He needed to see it again. He tried to reach for her face with his shaking free hand but she swatted him away (approved). No, there wasn’t time. There wasn’t time. Every moment he dallied, something more of hers would be lost.
Attempting to pull Taylor into the Bathroom.
The Ballroom
Warning: The following scene can be perceived as domestic abuse. In this scene Gideon is dragging Taylor from the fireplace to the bathrooms in what appears to be a rage. If these sorts of scenes induce distress, please consider skipping this post because it will be distressing.
Reducio
Taylor and Gideon were among the first to arrive in the Augury Cloister. The green flames had barely dispersed before the scent of roses and spellcraft filled their lungs. Others were already present, the Cloister’s service staff in hushed motion and a few scattered guests from the wedding party still smoothing their robes and blinking soot from their lashes. But Gideon did not linger at the hearthside. He had no interest in the delicacies or meaty sticks, as the stubborn boy dragged Taylor across the ballroom like some small child in need of rebuking.
Taylor was not a willing participant. While Gideon marched forward with purpose, dragging Taylor behind him like an afterthought. Taylor's kitten heels struck the polished tile with a stubborn clack. She dug in, every ounce of her insubstantial weight thrown backwards, like a cursed doll refusing to be placed.
He growled something furious, turned sharply, and his hand came up. A flash of motion, she tried to duck beneath. Whether the slap landed or not, it didn’t matter.
Taylor’s response was immediate. Primal. Without hesitation, she lunged towards him, not with spell or scream, but with teeth.
She attempted to sink her jaw into the soft flesh of his forearm. She was like a wild animal cornered in silk and perfume. There was no hesitation. No civility. Only survival, and fury, and an old magic stirring in her blood that remembered hunger and frost and the taste of iron.Mundane Action: Bite Gideon.
Not that pain served as a great deterrent for one such as Gideon as he continued to pull her onward.
Pulled into the Bathroom.
iNPC of Aamon Athanatos
The Ballroom
F I N N E G A NxC O N N O R
omnes magni homines primum fuerunt pueri
gryffindor, third-year
─────────✫
The award for tying the World's Most Complicated Shoelaces went to Finnegan Connor, who had been entertaining an invisible audience for over three minutes by now. Like most things regarding this feast, it was an act, a bit of theatre for no-one but the wind and the rocks. Despite his reputation for carefree and dishevelled dressing, Finnegan could actually tie his shoelaces in three seconds flat, but that wasn't the point. The point was buying time whilst he waited for the sound of guests arriving and mingling just beyond those large, double doors.
And should the odd guest arrive in the manner of muggle pilgrims, by the long and winding seaside path, then he would seem exactly as he intended: some kid with loose shoelaces.
Had he been a little older and wiser, Finnegan might have used the minutes ticking by to reflect on just how much he was beginning to resemble the very people he wished to destroy. Perhaps he would have stayed his hand and thought twice about slipping Forgetfulness Potion into his parents' teacups if he had known that this was the precise manner in which Mathias had whittled away Winnie's defiance. Alas, Finnegan was and remained blissfully unaware of the true mechanism of Mathias's power over Winnie.
He wasn't proud of poisoning his parents, but it was necessary, or so he told himself. There was no other option It helped a bit that his younger sister Rose was in on it too. They had both been at risk of never seeing the inside of Hogwarts again after Finn's Forest debacle. His dad especially had been droning on about "alternatives", as if Finn and Rose didn't know that he had never fully approved of Hogwarts anyway.
The alternative was named 'Christ College Brecon', a regular boarding school. Somewhere far away from dangerous forests, bloody balls and doomed wedding receptions. A nice, ordinary place full of nice and ordinary people. Magic would take the backseat; that had been his dad's plan. To Owen Connor, the idea that his happy son had endangered himself to near suicidal levels was inconceivable. Up until the sudden hospitalisation at St. Mungo's, his son's biggest crime had been giving up on his football career. That blasted school had changed his son too, changed him in ways that Owen deeply disliked. It had to stop.
Finn had always thought his sister Rose was a proper menace, but God was she brilliant to have on your side. He knew she hadn't helped out of some misplaced affection between them. This was pure self-interest. If Finn was being taken out of Hogwarts, she would follow, and she was not about to let magic be taken away from her after only just having been introduced to it.
The potion had proven very effective at dragging his parents out of their helicopter mode. That registration form for Christ College Brecon? It had gone straight to the bottom of the bin and not a soul had missed it. That appointment with a psychotherapist? Well, that had been a mistake, and Finnegan had helpfully reminded his mum to cancel it. Even the time he had spent at St. Mungo's had turned to a haze. They remembered he had gone to the hospital, but the details were muddy in their minds. It had been Rose's idea to suggest they'd all been in a car crash but that they'd got lucky and everyone had got off with light concussions. It was the perfect cover story.
Time had worked its magic too, and when May rolled around, Finnegan and Rose had returned to Hogwarts as if nothing bad had ever happened.
That was about to change.
It wasn't just self-preservation that motivated the care Finnegan had taken up to this point; it was the promise of a vengeful Rose that helped keep him in check. If he screwed up again, if he got their parents thinking about Christ College Brecon again, there'd be hell to pay. Not just to her, Finnegan thought grimly. He could hardly stomach the idea of letting his few remaining friends down, not @Evelynn Decipio and not @Pericles Dralt, who both had far better things to do than babysit a sugar-fuelled preteen.
He thought of Eve and how difficult this had to be for her. She was being forced to not only helplessly watch her close friend get married off to the world's biggest arsehole, but being forced to help with it too. There had been many times when he had silently envied her: the ease with which she managed her wandwork, the immense knowledge that somehow hadn't exploded her skull, not to mention being able to turn people into ferrets; but he did not envy her now. If not for this stupid wedding, he would have learnt the ferret spell by now, just to see what would happen if he tried it on himself. The possibilities being a ferret afforded were nearly endless. If only he could sink his ferret teeth into some parchment, then finally the excuse "my pet ate my homework" would have some merit.
*****
The old double doors swung open Like Aragorn@Remedy Norden with a lot more creaking noise than Finn had intended. Was he truly the only person who entered this way? He certainly had to be the only person who'd seen fit to dress in a casual hoodie, breezy sweatpants and a pair of comfy trainers.
Finnegan adjusted the sleeve on his hoodie to cover his still itching forearm whilst he took stock of the ballroom. His eyes fell on the menu with all its difficult-to-pronounce dishes, only to end with Wiener Schnitzels. A memory of Mathias Pride, stepping over @Avis Marlong's injured body whilst nomming on a greasy Wiener Schnitzel flashed through his mind. The mental image encapsulated Pride's entire being perfectly. Honestly, considering Pride was such a gaping arsehole, was it really any surprise that the boy liked Wieners?
Next, his gaze drifted to the wooden platform upon which three harpists were seated. That had to have been Winnie's idea, right? Putting three Veela women on the stage seemed a brilliant way to test her husband's loyalty to the vows they'd made by now.
Already the first of the house-elves had come up to him with a platter of drinks, which he had declined with a polite smile. He wondered if the house-elf would have treated him just as politely if it had known what Finnegan had just done to one of its kin maybe no more than five or ten minutes ago. The little elf by the bar had to be awake by now, hadn't he? Tempting though it was to head to the small bar, the slight chance that he would be the first there with the elf still passed out behind the counter was enough to keep him away. He'd wait for a bit, let the place fill up, let someone else be first to visit the small bar.
He was just beginning to feel awkward standing still without food, drink, or company when a familiar flash of blonde reached his peripheral vision. But as he pushed his back off the wall to greet his boyfriend, he became sharply aware of another sblonde. A girl, and they were bickering. The amount of conflicting feelings coursing through him in that half second were almost too much to contain. First, since when did Gideon have a girlfriend? Second, why did he get to have a hot blonde chick? Third, would this hot blonde chick become a single in his area after Gideon had been taken care of? Fourth-
(Hidden as it relates to the potentially triggering content that Gideon's writer warned about.)
Reducio
Gideon tried to hit her. He actually tried to hit her and she wasn't having it, despite being smaller. Did she just bite him? God he liked this girl already, she knew how to turn on a man. Finnegan grabbed one of the Wiener Schnitzels on a stick to seem a little less lost whilst his eyes, and then the rest of him, followed after Gideon and the girl. They stormed off into another room, the bathroom, but Finnegan didn't follow them there. When two were fighting and a third wanted to win, it was better to wait for the fighting parties to exhaust each other. Besides, if the girl wound up doing the dirty work for him, who was he to interfere? No, he was quite content leaning casually against the wall with the only entry and exit to the bathroom in view. He would wait here, ocassionally breaking off bits of Schnitzel and dropping it into a nearby potted plant to seem like he was eating it.
He wasn't. Eating or drinking anything that was being served here would be a stupendously stupid thing to do, especially after what he had seen being prepared in the small bar...
Veni, vidi, vici 05/07/2025 Augury Cloister
Magical action: none
Non-magical action: Finnegan shadows Gideon and Taylor from a polite (and safe) distance and remains outside the bathroom. Will attempt to hear what they're saying if it can be overheard.
Stats:
Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 5 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 19
Abilities:Inventory
- Statistically relevant x2, already applied in stats above.
- The Muggle Condition
Magical itemsMundane items
- Gregory's Unctuous Unction (Used)
- A Sampling of crushed herbs. Acquired here and contained within the phial that previously held Gregory's Unctuous Unction.
- Drowsiness Draught
- Babbling Beverage
- Bezoar
- Feathers of the Mockingbird [MS Earned Item]
- Winter Cloak - There is no summer cloak item that I was able to find. For flavor purposes I will claim this winter cloak to be a summer cloak to be more seasonally appropriate. Not wearing at the moment. It was probably taken at the door by a helpful house-elf.
- Muggle compact - intended as a flavor item, just brought along because it has a mirror, which may yet prove useful. Has no magical effect. Mentioned to be on his person in the Sanctum Noctis thread.
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
The Ballroom
The portal deposited Thaddeus into the ballroom, or it tried. The fireplace was double sided. He could exit either to the right and enter the ballroom or exit to the left and enter the reading room to the west. A comfortable room with several old books and a few comfortable chairs. It was not a place meant for congregation, but rather a place intended for peace and rest.
Pathetic, he thought as his mind filtered back to the ceremony and Mathias' "victory speech" and Gideon's assault on his younger cousin. The ceremony had been a parade of incompetence. A son peacocking like a show pony, another leaping pews like a common hooligan, and the third, dear, delicate Aamon, sitting there blinking through the ceremony as if the world were too loud, too bright, too cruel. Thaddeus didn’t need sensitivity in an heir. He needed clarity. Teeth. Vision. Vladimir had once had all three.
And he had to go and die.
Thaddeus stared into the amber depths of his glass. No one would say it, of course. Not aloud. But they all knew it, Vladimir’s absence had left a vacancy no one beneath him could credibly fill. The line was thinned. The blood had diluted. And now here he was, tying the House to a half-blood bride because it played well in the press. A narrative of inclusion. Mercy. Evolution.
It tasted like ash in his mouth.
Did not enter the ballroom from the flames, but rather the reading room to the right.
Event NPC
The Ballroom
┏━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━┓
Mathias emerged from the hearth and was met with the reception venue. It had been some time since he had been here last, he barely recognized the place beneath all of the pink. Even the sacrificial tables looked more like a boho purchase than a dark artifact. Winnie really did have a way to add glitter and gloss to something unpleasant to make it more palatable.
"You did great," Mathias announced, leaning to give her a kiss on the cheek before he hurried off to the kitchens. He let them pick the menu for the most part, with the exception of one culinary element that he required on the menu: wiener schnitzel on a stick. He was the brilliant mind behind the added stick element. The meaty delicacy was then portable and truly the perfect eat.
"I'm going to get something to eat before the photographers and guests comodere my evening. Want anything?" He nodded towards the kitchen rather than the table. He wanted to get his stick meat from its source. "Just remember," he added in an after thought. "Check everything before you put it into your mouth. If you see anything out of place, tell me," failure would get his new wife killed before the honeymoon.
Left for the Kitchens
┗━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━┛
Event NPC
The Ballroom
Aamon burst into the ballroom in a flurry of ash and misplaced urgency, half-running into the ballroom with all the grace of a startled cat. Aamon was in a rush, he had much to do before other guests arrived. Specifically Matthew Campbell and Nabi Park. He stopped abruptly, blinking, disoriented as he briefly glanced towards the entertainment. Wow, pretty ladies, he was momentarily mesmerized by the trio. Then realization struck him like a rogue Bludger, he still had much to do and he had emerged from the wrong side! He had, quite stupidly, exited the wrong side of the hearth! Just brilliant.
Without sparing the gawking guests so much as a bow or apology, Aamon pivoted on his heel and bolted back toward the fireplace, not really regretting his dramatic entrance. Nobody important was looking at him. It was like singing in the shower, a favored pastime of his. Compared to his brothers, Aamon was basically the perfect son.
Aamon just needed to reach the other side of the hearth. This was a two-sided fireplace and the other side was a small reading room. He really did not spend much time there, but the reading room was far less crowded. This room led to a series of fancy spaces tucked along the western side of the estate. If he moved quickly, he could reach the secluded cliffside stretch overlooking the sea. It was a little-known spot, isolated and quiet, perfect for brooding or contemplating homicide. He checked for his wand with a pat of his hand. It was nothing impressive aspen wood and kelpie hair and he was not much of a spell caster, but Matt could only do so much to combat gravity.
As Aamon glanced over his shoulder, he caught a brief but vivid tableau: his brother Gideon was dragging his cousin Taylor off, his other brother Mathias was disappearing into the kitchens, and then there was the not blood-related Finnegan. Aamon blinked, almost stumbled. What in Merlin’s ill-advised mustache was Finnegan Conner doing here? He hadn’t expected to see him at his brother's wedding. Who invited him? Admittedly, the entire wizarding world was invited, and of course Gideon Athanatos' boyfriend would of course have a standing invitation to his future in-law's nuptials. Still, he seemed out of place to Aamon, he did not strike the Slytherin as they type to mingle like a regular human being with other wizards. This was the same boy who had once dragged him, concussed and dying, into a madman’s office… he had also, regrettably, saved his life.
Aamon’s feelings were complicated. A swirling cocktail of irritation, gratitude, and something that tasted suspiciously like begrudging respect. He hadn’t quite untangled it, and today was not the day for emotional archaeology.
“Hi Finn!” Aamon called with a wave that was a little too enthusiastic, a little too sudden. A flicker of awkward vulnerability passed across his face before he masked it with a sheepish grin. And then foomph he leapt back into the green flames like a gremlin avoiding confrontation, vanishing toward the reading room and the hidden paths beyond.
Entered the ballroom more for an accurate count. Headed to the reading room to the right.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
The Ballroom
Arrival from Sanctum Noctis
@Gideon Athanatos, @Winnie Athanatos, @Mathias Pride, @Taylor Athanatos
As soon as he arrived he saw a blonde boy, drag a blonde girl to the bathroom, he guessed it was one of the Athanatos family that was being dragged off, but he did not want to know what that was about, but would follow them at some point just in case.
His mother then arrived, and then his cousins after that. One of them was Adira, one of his father's line; he had the same dark brown hair as him, but had blue eyes instead of grey, unlike Jacob himself, who had his mother's eyes. He then spotted another family who was invited to the wedding that he had overlooked before now.
The Stark Family, a prominent family, who were almost always Aurors, they attended the wedding because of what they represented; a great family with a lot of influence, among the Starks was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon, she had long amazing brown hair that covered the upper half of her back, brilliant, dark brown eyes, and the most magnificent face he had ever seen.
At first, he didn't have the courage to ask her, but after a while, his mother gave him a good elbow on the ribs, and he finally gets the courage to ask her before someone else does, and asks with confidence, "May I have this dance?" They seem around the same age, with both going to Hogwarts at the same year as each other.
Mundane Action: Goes to the Dance Floor with Mira Stark (NPC)
"Do not pity the dead... pity the living. And above all those who live without love." Albus Dumbledore -
Jacob Harman
INPC: Tina Parker
The Ballroom
Howard's sense were immediately bombarded as he stepped out of the floo flames and into the Augury Cloister. That name meant nothing to him and he surely looked out of place. It was surprising the undead like himself didn't burst into flames in such a place. Howard wasn't sure if he had seen another place quite as magnificent. He had heard the Chateau at Beauxbatons and the Durmstrang Castle were quite the site to see, but the sheer amount of marble surrounding him was breathtaking. His gaze rose to the ceiling and was momentarily dazed by all of the crystal hanging from the chandeliers. Then down to the floor to see woods he had probably never set foot on before. The rose gold that etched its way through the columns wasn't his aesthetic for sure, but try as one might to not be impressed by wealth and grandeur, it's harder than it seems.
The only thing that ruined it all again was the excessive use of pink decorations. Not quite the clash it had been in the cathedral, but the sheer amount of roses were stinging his sensitive nostrils. It would surely bring about a headache, though at the moment it was almost giving him a high. Was this intentional? Could someone have guessed what he might smell and was trying to mask it with flowers? Howard shifted his way off to the side of the room, hoping to not draw attention to himself as others began to arise. He focused his mind and his sense the best he could and took another deep breath through his nose.
Non-magical action: Attempting to pick up on the scent of blood if it is still present.
Stats: STA - 17 | EVA - 21 | STR - 17 | WIS - 1 | ARC - 0 | ACC - 21
Abilities: Fangs, Claw & Bite | Martial Artist | Unsettling Aura | Blindvision | Keen Smell | Terrible Presence | Blood Resurrection
The Ballroom
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Interacting: @
Mentioning: @
Winnie blinked up at Mathias, still dazed from the rush of the wedding ceremony. The fact that she was married had yet to sink in. She was married. Married. She was Winnie Harper no longer, had shed that life to become Winnie Athanatos.
"Thank you, though there's some stains I had to hide beneath the center pieces." She smiled as he leaned down to kiss her cheek with such ease. The gesture was so casual, so... so husbandly?
"No mysterious mouthfuls. Got it." She said with a playful wink, "I'll have whatever you're having; I trust your judgement." Despite the fact that she had only ever been poisoned by Mathias, she'd only eat what he brought her. It wouldn't make much sense for him to erase their wedding from her memory anyways.
She watched as her new husband disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her alone.
As she stood in the middle of the ballroom she had draped in every shade of pink, she found herself feeling hollow. The weight of the gown on her body felt more straining that before, the rings on her finger foreign. She twisted the golden lapis band and glittering diamond ring idly.
Mathias had slipped into his new role so easily; husband, heir, a man of importance. He wore it like a second skin. Winnie, on the other hand, felt more like a child playing dress up than a wife.
❤︎❤︎❤︎│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |