Final Stand Closed

Interacting with | @Kyle DeRook 
Mentioning | @Erin Ryan | @Jack Warren

Santario was more than frustrated she just wanted to go to sleep and let the day be over with, not just the day, but the month. October had been terrible and hopefully, November would be better. Santario would be half-listening to the conversation that she might have heard from Jack and Erin on the way to the infirmary, however, now that she was finally able to hear Erin’s voice, she recognized it from quidditch practice and during the quidditch game. Of course, she would have gone after Quinn in the ballroom. Clearly it had been much more than just a quidditch rivalry between them, but what? This now at least makes some sense…

She walked barefoot as her shoes had been left behind in the ballroom, unbeknownst to her probably burnt to a crisp by now. She removed her mask by slipping it off and allowing it to hang from her unbroken arm. Her broken arm was currently held to her chest to protect it. As soon as they entered the infirmary Santario would make her way to the nearest bed and sit down patiently waiting despite the pain shooting through her arm like lightning arcs. She knew what they would do for her no doubt a dose of skele-grow to get her bones knitting back together, ferula to splint them and help relieve the pain, and something to probably help her sleep through the process.

She put her mask on the bed and watched everyone else around her looking from Jack, to Erin, and finally to Kyle. This was not how she intended her night to go, but then again, she could have expected that right when she entered the ballroom and that terrible music had been playing. That right there had killed her chances of dancing with literally anyone. Now, she was here with thoughts churning in her head about Kyle… Her best friend… But was he really? He was prone to violence and she hadn’t truly seen it until tonight, but with the ways, he said things sometimes. His mood swings were troublesome and the way he acted around Erik just the night before with no explanation, and poor Jake. Especially when he should have been happy that Erik stepped in front of her to protect her. Was that not an admirable thing for someone to do to your so-called best friend when they didn’t know who was approaching in quidditch armor and hold a beater's bat?

Kyle’s problem was his lack of communication in any range of the spectrum unless it involved the word quidditch or brooms. In fact, his want to never actually resolve literally anything at all, and only ignoring it or pretending it didn’t happen was draining. She couldn’t keep lying to herself or living in this world of denial for much longer… Gears started to spin. “Thank you for walking me here.” She spoke softer than normal not knowing what else to say because anything she had to say would surely be a fight.   

Interaction w/ @Erin Ryan

Luckily Jack hadn't had the distinct pleasure of going to the hospital wing yet. Which was rather surprising, to say the least. These places gave him the creeps though. The stench of artificial peppermint forced its way into his nostrils. It stung slightly as he inhaled, and Jack could nearly taste it on the back of his tongue. The boy's nose wrinkled slightly as he continued to breathe.

He continued to stay beside the girl who sparked the entire series of rather unfortunate events. Every now and then he would glance around at the others near him, but he was a bit more worried about Erin. It was like he was standing next to a ticking timebomb. She spoke about how if Leah was pureblooded, and affirmed that she was better than her. There was not a right answer to those questions, and Jack knew it. So instead he just continued to walk in silence.

Before this whole masquerade debacle, Jackson had heard of this girl, or at least he was making an educated guess about this girl's identity. The first time he heard about Erin and his doppelganger was when he had found himself in a shouting match with the Hufflepuff girl, Serena Towers. She had mistaken him for another boy. What had she called him? Parasite? That wasn't his real name, was it? No. It was Parce. That's what Reid had called him. She and Parce apparently had some sort of history. He would have to tell her who he actually is, but for now, he would just let her continue to talk. As they continued to walk, Jack just popped his knuckles. He knew he shouldn't do it, but it was a stress reliever.

She's had a lot worse? He could clearly see that her hand was absolutely mangled. She's had a lot worse than that? At certain points, he had a rough time looking away from her hand. As Erin talked, he did notice the change of her demeanor. It was strange to see how Erin was acting completely different than a matter of minutes ago. She had gone from angry and vengeful to what seemed almost timid and apologetic. The shift in attitude was a one-eighty. She even added a 'please' to the end of her command for skele-grow.

"Look...I am going to stay with you for now. Your hand is a complete hames. I let you go off on your own." He started, "And Leah, the girl, we are barely friends! She was just saying hi. That's all." There was still a tad bit of defensiveness about her saying that he was cheating. (Even though they were never together to start with.) Jack's words floated off as he tried to mull over how he would tell Erin that he wasn't who she thought he was. Finally, his mouth opened and words just spewed out.

"I'm not who you think I am. My name is Jack Warren. I'm a first-year student, from Dublin, Ireland."

Their domestic issues would start and end the same evening. Jack insisted that he was just friends with that Leah girl. In the back of her head she simply whispered to herself -- good, I have a name. She did not believe Parce. Why should she? He was supposedly not coming at all and yet there he was, talking to that girl. A stubborn jealousy bubbled within her as she internally stewed, but her expression outside was determined to keep the peace and regain what favor she had lost. "I see--" she nodded. "I mean, of course," she stumbled a bit as she tried to hold back her irritation and her sense of rejection.

"I'm not who you think I am. My name is Jack Warren. I'm a first-year student, from Dublin, Ireland."

He announced and she frowned. Was this some sort of joke? No, he was Paracelsus Adger Myth from Montrose, Scotland. He was a Third Year,Gryffindor. Erin stood up and backed away, her face hardened almost instantaneously as she re-assessed her surroundings. "N-no you're not..." she stammered. She was not sure what to feel just now, angry or scared.



The gears in her head started to turn.



She was both angry and scared. Her broken hand throbbed as she pulled the mangled fingers into a fist that more resembled a meaty club than an actual hand. She did not care, in fact there was a sick part of her that enjoyed the pain. It was the only thing that reminded her that she was here, int he moment, that she was alive. It grounded her. It helped her think. She could feel the beating of her own heart as she looked him over a second time.

He looked just like Parce. She was not delirious. His face, his hair. If he stepped towards her, she would take a measured step away. "Polyjuice potion?" She asked, her eyes fixed on his face. A temporary brew, not that she knew how long the potion could last. Was she taking his word for it? His word that he was not Paracelsus Adger Myth. It was a cautious stance, the sort of stance where she reassessed why. 

If this was Parce and he was telling her a lie -- he was looking to hurt her. She would have to hurt him back. Her heart, what little there was, would shatter. In fact it ached now, as if someone was squeezing it tight.

If it was not Parce, then it was someone that was looking to hurt her or worse yet, Parce. She was not a bright girl, at least academically, but she was good with people when she tried. It was more an interest in having what she could not. What she did not. She envied how others felt and she reviled those that lied. Love was more lust and infatuation, the only exception being Howard White and she had not felt that feeling since she... broke him. Other feelings such as sadness and rage came easier, like a pouring rain or a raging inferno, they came quick and could be as dangerous as they were flashy. 

If it was Parce they were looking to hurt, all they needed to do was say with that face that he hated her. That he always had. That their entire relationship was, as she feared - not just a one-sided affair where she was desperately lonely and he was indifferent but what few crumbs she clung to were there to keep the girl near as a joke. It would have worked. Dump her at the ball. Tell her another is preferred, that there is nobody else, that she just has so little value that being alone would be better. It would have hurt her and then she, if her reputation stands true, would have made Parce hurt. 



There were plenty of reasons to hurt her. If it was merely shattering her relationship with Parce, again he should have dumped her publicly and heartlessly at the ball. But he didn't. She was attracted by his proximity to a girl, her jealousy was not well-known but could have been gleaned from her 'passionate' reactions. Quinn was there, he knew that she was onto him. She as much as told him and had spent the last few months in pursuit of the part-giant. He had avoided her for the most part until today when he purposefully and consciously intervened. 



A ruse to get her away from the ball all alone... She began to tense as she started to think. She was not as intelligent as she wanted to be, much like brawn, being clever was not something that came naturally. As she pondered all paths, she came to a singular conclusion -- it did not fucking matter.

If Parce was Parce and claiming to be someone else, it would be done now to hurt her, to confuse her, to manipulate her, to gaslight her or to entrap her.

If Parce was not Parce, then why did this stranger take his form? It would only be done to hurt her, to confuse her, to manipulate her, to gaslight her or to entrap her.

In the end it made no difference if it was a truth or a lie. So she would take him at his word. "Is Healy" she and the part giant were not on good enough terms to use given names in her opinion "on his way?" 

She looked over at the nurse, Vancleaf. She had long assumed that the staff was in on this. He was staying out of it, rummaging through the potions bottles. They clinked in the medicine cabinet. 

"Or do you think you" she glanced over at Santario "and maybe her... think you can take me on." Her tone was serious, not even angry.  She was going to destroy him, for being Parce and showing his duplicity. For being someone else and daring to take her paramour's form. "I have one good arm, you're still outmatched," she claimed with a confidence only that Slytherin could muster. It was of course a lie. Most of her facade was. Two on one, even one on one, she likely could have held her own if she had two working hands. Quinn was more powerful than she was willing to admit. The big brute was actually terrifying. She would have given him a wide breadth had he not eaten her friend @Thomas LeStrange. ((Tag because I know he is returning to the site in a few weeks.))

"You realize, I gave no fucks until you bastards messed with my friend," there was no plural. She did not have many, well any friends. She knew it. (And forgot about @Oliver Hart like any foolish child that fails to see what she already has.) 

"Sit down, stop with the theatrics" the nurse ordered with a tone of disinterest only an adult could muster when they have been ease-dropping on teenage drama a few moments too long. Everything sounds like the end of the world. Like everything is important.

"Drink your skele-grow, take some of this to get a bit numb and sleepy," he commanded in a single exhaled breath. He had said this exact phrase several times before to this same student, she has single handedly been here enough for the producers of skelegrow to open a new apothecary. She never cared for the nurse, it was weird having a male nurse working the infirmary, and he was absolutely ancient, he was like thirty-something. If he was good at what he did, she should have become a doctor or something by now.

Erin shook her head side to side, like a petulant child as the bottle was offered. "No," she frowned. "It might be poisoned," she admitted. "And I am not getting sleepy around my not-boyfriend and the people-eating giant's friends."

Her heart was in her throat, while her words did not quaver and they had a tone of defiance and assurance to them, she was unsettled here. "My hand is fine," she claimed. It was not fine.

Her attention was brought back to Erin and Jack when Erin mention Quinn’s surname. Albeit the girl's hair was blonde instead of purple it was no denying that this was her quidditch teammate. “Erin, what are you even going on about? Who exactly are you lumping into people who have messed with your friends? He and I. Jack was it? Are literally first years.” She motioned to Jack when she mentioned his name. Santario may have held a stony façade but it was cracking with annoyance and impatience. Her good hand slipped inside of the pocket on her dress and gripped the handle of her wand as it would seem there was a possibility of this not being over with yet.

“Why are you blaming that boy because you confused him with someone else. Is that why you punched that girl?” It was clear to San now that perhaps Erin wasn’t exactly all there. The lights were one but the hamster was running on the wrong wheel. Santario sighed audibly when she denied the skelegrow.

“For crying out loud, Erin, Vancleaf isn’t going to poison you. We’re teammates why would I Want to do anything to the best beater we have on our team?” Truth be told the only thing she wanted to do to Erin right now was render her unconscious so that she could just shut the hell up. However, she wouldn’t act upon Erin unless it was in an act of defense against someone who didn’t deserve the girl’s terrifying wrath.

There was no doubt in her mind that Erin had absolutely lost most if not all of her marbles. Granted without a valid explanation behind her actions who wouldn’t think the girl was insane.

Interacting with | @Erin Ryan | @Jack Warren |
Mentioning | @Quinn Healy |

“Erin, what are you even going on about? Who exactly are you lumping into people who have messed with your friends? He and I. Jack was it? Are literally first years.”

"A first year that looks exactly like my boyfriend?" Her tone was incredulous. What were the chances that someone would happen to have her Parce's perfect face? "You honestly want me to believe that he just happens to look way hotter than any first year has a right to?" She did not believe it, there was no way that this was the product of chance alone. She was seeing patterns where there were none, as incredible as the coincidence might have been.

“Why are you blaming that boy because you confused him with someone else. Is that why you punched that girl?”

The first year was not going to let this go. "Because he stole my boyfriend's face!" It was incredibly obvious. "Do you think I know why?"

She shooed away nurse Vancleaf's offer of skelegrow. Everyone is lying to her. Everyone is manipulating her. She scooted away from Jack. "I need someone normal," the paranoid youth declared. 

"I am not trying to poison you," the nurse replied in a monotone voice. 

"That is exactly what someone trying to poison me would say," Erin debated. She was not dumb enough to take his word for it.

"Do you want a fancy straw? I have those long twisty ones," he was not amused.  He popped the cork on the bottle, it let out a loud pop. 

"What kind of--" she started to inquire (with her 2 in Wisdom) before she caught on. "Wait, no!" She was not going to fall for his clever trickery. She tightened her lips together like a toddler. She shook her head back and forth defiantly. 

“For crying out loud, Erin, Vancleaf isn’t going to poison you. We’re teammates why would I Want to do anything to the best beater we have on our team?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. Merlin that hurt! She mouthed ow. She she did so a spoonful of skelegrow was pushed between her temporarily parted lips. It tasted like an old grapefruit. She spat out the potion in a mist. "ACK! Poison!" She complained. Another spoonful snuck in. She spat out most of what he put in.

"I can do this all evening," he warned. He might have done this before. "You might not want to see this," he warned Santario and Jack as he readied another spoon. 

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Quinn was a mess not just physically but mentally he had come very close to his breaking point. Why was he so weak? He had to rely on poor Rosie whose night no matter what she said he did a great job of ruining. It was why when she brought him to the hospital wing following the others he told her he would be alright and that she should head back now. Whether she listened to him was completely up to her.

Finally Quinn walked into the infirmary much later then everyone else. He was clutching his chest. But what greeted him only filled him with utter dread and a hint of well slight hope. "Oi is eet always soe lood in ere?" His accent thick as molasses on a cold winter's night. He would proceed to wobble over and grab the nearest bed he could to Santario.

The Half-Giant would then proceed in this order to look at Erin first with an angered glare, before his gaze fell upon Santario with sorrow staining his facade, and finally to Jack with an apologetic and sympathetic smile. He was tired, his body ached, his night was ruined, and now he had to get patched up in the same vicinity as the source of his nights dismay. What else could possibly go wrong on his birthday. "Worst feckin birthday ever." He let slip out a little bit too loudly.

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Interacting with @Jack Warren, @Santario Martin, @Erin Ryan
Mentions @Rosie Parker

"There is no potion or any spell. This is just the way I was born. I haven't stolen anything! This is just my face, Erin. I am just this good looking to begin with!" Even if he was somewhat annoyed, Jack would always accept a compliment. He glanced back, giving this other girl, Santario, a grateful look. At least he wasn't going to have to try to explain this to the girl by himself. Finally, he glanced at the half-giant who had just found his way into the room. Jack gave a curt nod to him before returning his attention to his not-really-his-girlfriend girlfriend. "It isn't my fault that this is a case of mistaken identity. This is just my face. It's a great one, but I have not stolen anything."

Then Erin went off on the tangent about poison and how she knew how Jack stole her boyfriend's face. "I doubt you do!" He responded quickly to the accusation of his apparent theft. "Because there was not a bit of stealing involved!" He crossed his arms and plopped down on the bed across from Erin. Several spoonfuls of skele-grow had been tasted and spit out. The nurse had recommended that he looks away, but of course he would do nothing of the sort.

Santario sighed as Erin continued to take in the skelegrow and then Quinn came in and Santario gripped her wand tighter in the folds of her dress. Not because she thought she would need to use it on Quinn, but because she wondered what Erin would do. The girl was missing far too many screws and it was clear she probably could use a stint in Saint Mungos. She gave Jack a shrug in a way to at least show him that she tried. “Could you just take your medicine so the rest of us could get theirs? I’ll drink from the same bottle as you. If it is poisoned at least I can die happy knowing I won’t have to listen to you acting like a four-year-old anymore.”

Santario looked over to Quinn now and tried to give him a reassuring smile although her heart was broken for him. “I’m sorry Quinn…” She knew none of this was her fault, but she also didn’t know how to make him feel better either. “I am sure everything is going to be okay.” She sounded surer than she was especially while Erin was still conscious. Hopefully whatever Quinn needed was something that would have him out of the hospital before Erin would wake up after Vancleaf hopefully managed to render her unconscious. She supposed it would be unethical for him to smack her over the head with a rock but San would surely enjoy seeing it at this point. 

Yes, she called Jack 'hot' but that was because he had a hot person's face. Did she believe that this boy just happened to look exactly like Paracelsus? Hell no but he was not able to trick her any longer, he was a non-threat for the moment. The biggest threat to her safety at the moment was the nurse sneaking that vile concoction into her mouth every time that she opened it.

It was like trying to get a toddler to take their medicine except she was even less reasonable. She sealed her lips together tightly and shook her head side to side, a small stream of medicine dribbled down  the side of her mouth that she could not wipe off, her broken hand was too sore. 

“Could you just take your medicine so the rest of us could get theirs? I’ll drink from the same bottle as you. If it is poisoned at least I can die happy knowing I won’t have to listen to you acting like a four-year-old anymore.”

Santario complained. She had every right to complain, her fractured arm had yet to be treated because the nurse was so involved with trying to force-feed Erin this potion. "You can have it!" Erin declared. Another spoonful of medicine down the hatch. She let out a high pitched shriek of annoyance and spat out some of the medicine the nurse had invested in her. 

The nurse looked more annoyed than charmed by the Slytherin's antics. He wanted them to look away so they would not witness his usual method for medication instillation. It involved pinching the nose, waiting for them to take a breath and then squirting the medication into their mouth from a blunt-tipped syringe. It looked worse than it was really and it got the job done. "This is going to take awhile," the nurse admitted  with a tone of annoyance as he made this factual statement. He turned his attention to Santario. 

"What seems to be the problem young lady," his eyes glanced the youth over. A great deal of an assessment is completed in the first three seconds of meeting. Posture, color, attire, expression, the words used, their relative hygiene among a dozen other facets are simultaneously assessed. What he could glean from this is that she was young, in generally good health, from a decent family considering her attire and that she was not in acute distress but still in need of some sort of treatment. Presumably she was holding or guarding her arm. If so, he would make the inquiry himself. "What happened to your arm?" His brow furrowed "in fact, what happened in general." 

Tonight was not a full moon, however there was a sense of lunacy. They were not the first students brought to the hospital wing from the dance and...

Enter Quinn Healy, a massive boy with the size and appearance of a man. Complaining about something, he could not quite understand the kid's heavy accent. "I will be with you in a few minutes son, just uh... put two cots together if you cannot fit in just one," he instructed.

While the nurse was distracted by Quinn and Santario, Erin started to debate Jack. "Yes, I agree it is a fine face, but it is Parcelsus'" Erin insisted with characteristic stubbornness. He insisted that there was no stealing involved. It would be then that Quinn  would enter the hospital wing. Her debate with Jack would cease and she would tense. If someone looked at her eyes, they would appear unsettling. Like a cat. (gif provided)





"Quinn?" Erin called out his name as he took his seat. "Quinn!" She repeated. 

The healer was occupied healing the girl that wanted healing. He extended his hand palm up. "Can I see your arm?" His skin would feel warm and dry, too dry. Like he was made of sand. His other hand would simply lay on top pf the forearm and lightly move along the surface of the arm. "Fractured ulna and radius. Non displaced, an easy fix." 

Santario offered Quinn her condolences and a bit of optimism. 

Vancleaf would stand up, placing her forearm if it was in his possession onto her lap. He would turn his back to them momentarily and make his way to the potions cabinet. The rattle of bottles and the clink of glass, he was looking for something specific. 

Erin would reach for the pillow on her cot and with her good hand grip the soft cloth before she then threw the pillow with a lazy, sloppy underhanded motion. "Quinn!" She announced a third time, that being her target although the toss was poorly done and she would likely miss. "Quinn, I need to know something..." 

Vancleaf was returning with a few small bottles, each clearly labeled and corked securely. "For pain, drink the whole thing in a single gulp, it tastes like grass but that is the worst of it. To heal," a fresh bottle of skelegrow. "And to get some sleep," the tiniest of bottles. 

"Leave the poor boy alone Miss Ryan," the nurse advised. "Bones don't heal on their own..." Well, they totally do, just wizards are never willing to wait long enough to find out.