May 25, 2019, 04:57:06 PM

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1
Britain / Re: the first frost of winter [gabriella]
« Last post by Gabriella Morfessa on Today at 04:47:44 PM »
Had someone told her five years ago how her life was going to go, Gabriella might have recommended them to the Mental ward at St. Mungos. But standing here, in a grove of trees with her husband, gabriella couldn’t imagine things any differently. They’d been through a lot to get here, and there was still so much to be done… in some ways they were both broken, but that didn’t matter anymore, because they weren’t shutting eachother out. And if she could help him pick up his pieces, and he hers… she smiled. They didn’t need to be worrying about that right now.

A leaf fluttered down shortly after she said it, and she reached up and plucked it from the air with a soft smile on her lips. It was the perfect shape, no blemishes or sun spots, and a delicate hue. The kind of leaf a writer might spend several paragraphs describing… she turned to look at Dermod with a knowing, yet amused look in her eye. “What a surprise! A leaf right when i asked for one. And an oak leaf from a birch tree no less! Perhaps there is magic in this place after all.” she couldn’t help but tease him, and knew he was only trying to be nice and give her what she wanted. She came back to him then, still smiling as she stood on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “It's the best leaf ever.”

The welsh witch let out a contented sigh looking over the grove again. The coat was warm, but her hands and face were starting to feel the coolness of the air. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but gabriella didn’t think that staying too much longer was for the best. Especially if they were to come back some other time. “Lets head twards the rose gardens then, shall we?” she asked softly, once more allowing him to lead the way for the both of them. “Perhaps we’ll find more fun surprises along the way. Maybe even another Lavatory!”
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Making her way down the familiar corridors, Carrie was looking forward to the first DADA lesson of term. It wasn’t her best class, but it was important content to know and to be comfortable performing. As she entered the room and found it completely barren, save for a few lines of chalk on the ground, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. She always seemed to take away more from practical lessons, and this seemed like a setup for one.

She gave the ruse of listening attentively, but in all honesty zoned out for Professor Franklin’s first few sentences (he said the same thing almost every year, anyways); however she tuned back in when his body language shifted and he changed gears. Her eyebrows came together thoughtfully as he explained the setup. They would get to choose what they wanted to work on? Sounded great to her.
Carrie flinched as a loud shriek tore from one of the underclassmen whom, on second glance, she recognized to be one of the younger students who had joined in on the bonfire in May. Fortunately the girl seemed to recover herself quickly enough, and Professor Franklin continued.

At the mention of the dueling area, Carrie sat up a bit straighter. She definitely wanted more practice there. It was simple enough to just cast spells – but adding in the need for planning and reflexes and anticipation was something she hadn’t had quite as much experience with. She was graduating in just a few short months, for Merlin’s sake.
The Wampus Student Senator nodded obediently as Professor Franklin explained what was not allowed. She really didn’t anticipate any problems, but there was always someone who might find such things amusing…
Her ears pricked again at the possibility of being able to skip a required assignment or have a one-on-one lesson as a reward: if she were being perfectly honest, both were appealing prospects. She’d have to think on it.

Once Professor Franklin gave the cue to disband, Carrie made her way to the dueling area at the back, wand already out and held loosely in her hand. She was familiar with all of the spells mentioned but shot a cursory glance at the chalkboard all the same on her way, skimming it quickly for reassurance. Certainly she wasn’t the most practiced duelist and the first couple of minutes would likely be on the ugly side as she got her feet under her, but in any case she was confident she’d at least be able to hold her own in the end.

Stepping into one of the giant circles, the Seventh Year surveyed her classmates with a grin.
“Anyone up for a go with me?”
3
Name: Carrie Marshall
Year: Seventh
House: Wampus
Would you also like to sign-up for No-Maj Hysteria?: N (she's a Magbob hehe)
4
Diagon Alley / Re: [MP] darkness at the edge [open]
« Last post by Samuel Dickinson on Today at 01:13:10 PM »
The little elf reappeared as Mrs Ollivander was talking about the Witches' Institute, bustling around and replacing his brown paper bag with a plate and napkin. Without thinking that some people might consider it strange, he thanked the small creature and was rewarded with a pleased, low bow. Sam hadn't seen any house elves until he'd gone to Hogwarts, but his close friendship with several Hufflepuffs had meant that he had quickly learned the location of the kitchens had had been fascinated by their love of preparing the food, taking care of the young witches and wizards...their desire to serve. It was easy to see how so many of the poor creatures had ended up enslaved to less thoughtful families. The Hogwarts elves had fought on that terrible night, despite several professors telling them that nobody expected them to, that they were allowed to remain safely in the kitchens.

He knew little of the Witches' institute, aside from the fact that it was an organisation for women of all ages who wanted to help others and perform charitable works. At least, rightly or wrongly, that was Sam's view of the group. The fact that they hadn't heard much about Purcell or any of his surviving comrades made the Seer feel somewhat better, though what Mrs Ollivander was saying made sense. The man hadn't been exiled, but it was unlikely he was returning to Britain just because he wanted to visit family. "Yes. The Ministry, of course" he said with a sigh of relief, as if this was the only thing he had taken in from all that the lady had just said. Because the Ministry weren't going to allow anything untoward to happen, especially not with Kingsley Shacklebolt in charge. He managed a smile, and now removed the lid from his coffee and took a sip. It had cooled quite a bit, but not enough that it was unpleasant, not if he drank it quickly.

"I'm afraid I hadn't read about that" Sam admitted "though I did find the sudden move of Durmstrang surprising" he made a point of paying attention to anything that affected any of the wizarding schools, simply through force of habit. During his years at Hogwarts, Sam had found that the best way to quash rumours was to make sure one was informed about everything that was going on, and had read not just the Prophet but also the Quibbler and several other smaller publications, as well as corresponded with professors from the other schools. It was far easier to inject a note of authority into one's voice when telling students that no, Beauxbatons definitely hadn't been taken over by werewolves when you knew for a fact it hadn't happened! But this...a lot of what was written in the paper seemed to be speculation at best. It was rumoured that Purcell was back in Britain. He had been sighted...maybe Sam was worrying prematurely.

But this latest news was worrying. Sam took a bite of his sandwich while he thought about it. "Extreme political views are always worrying, if only because they're so...extreme" he agreed "I've never understood why some people have a problem with equal rights. If you want to enjoy freedom for yourself, you have to allow it for others - and we all have to abide by certain laws to avoid anarchy" he said with a sigh. "But you're right. It feels like finally things are going right here, I'd hate for parts of Europe to end up fighting the same kind of battles that we have done."
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Britain / Re: the first frost of winter [gabriella]
« Last post by Dermod Larkin Morfessa on Today at 12:48:40 PM »
So she had read it. He wasn't surprised, but rather pleased that she'd recalled the plotline - such as it was - so easily. Dermod was less proud of his earlier works; having allowed himself to be, if not manipulated, then certainly guided by his first publisher to add scenes into his works that would allow them to appeal to a wider audience. The resulting love scene towards the end of that book was one example; though when the novel had sold three times the quantity of his previous two volumes he had, rather cynically one might suggest, began making certain that future works appealed to a wider readership. He even imagined that Gabriella might have glossed over the more lurid passages in some of his books, the ones that might have tipped his works from regular literature all the way into horror at the quill of a less skilled writer.

“Yes...yes, I like that. And next time we visit, I promise all the fountains will be working” A small flock of birds, tiny and with ridiculously oversized tails, fluttered in the nearly bare branches, twittering to themselves as they presumably searched for food. The Sun had appeared from behind a cloud, casting the grove in golden bands of light and shade. Dermod watched as the welshwoman walked amongst the trees,, touching first one trunk and then another, waiting for a moment when her back was turned, then he pulled out his wand once more. A moment later a single, perfect oak leaf, just turned golden, fluttered down directly from above her, moving more slowly than gravity and the breeze would normally allow. The tree Gabriella was standing beneath happened to be a beech as well, but he hadn't thought of that part...

Dermod had a decent memory for directions, even though it was something he didn't need to use often. Who worried about the location of a shop or restaurant when it was the simplest thing in the world to apparate directly into the correct street? But on this occasion, he didn't need to think of that at all. “If we keep the maze to our right, we should reach the rose gardens” he said, after a quick glance up to check where the sun was just visible through the clouds “though we can stay here a little longer if you prefer?”
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Gryffindor Common Room / Re: jack be nimble [open to gryffindors!]
« Last post by Henry Murphy on Today at 07:42:36 AM »
@Donna Russell expressed skepticism at drawing on her pumpkin. “It works if you have the right ink,” said Henry. “My dad would get the permanent stuff, I’ve got some over here.” He darted back to one of the tables to fetch his bottle, pausing to let @Pixie Clarke-Trickett know she was absolutely free to work on the pumpkin she’d chosen before calling back to Donna. “Oh—and also you can’t press too hard with your quill or you’ll break the skin—or the quill.” He looked up and caught the prefect spinning one of the knives he’d laid out, and barely stopped himself cursing in surprise. She saw him gaping at her, though, and sheepishly set it down to browse the pumpkin selection with her friend. Henry scoffed to himself. Honestly.

Behind him he heard Pixie summon the top of her pumpkin, and turned just in time to see it flatten her. This time he was unable to rein in his language. “Oh, shite, let me see—“ She seemed alright by the time he could get across the now-crowded corner of the Common Room. “Do you need to go up to the Hospital Wing, or do you think you’re okay?” he asked, dropping to his knees to help her sit up. Another little voice called his name as he was standing up himself, and Henry turned yet another direction to see new first year @Tomie Vos  twirling her knife even more quickly and intricately than Donna had been. “Oh, wow,” he gasped, “please don’t—“ and then she flung her knife point down into the Common Room carpet.

Thankfully she was quick enough to hop out of the way, but Henry wasn’t any less shaken as she cheerfully picked it up and giggled. @Carey Baisley’s comment did not help him feel any better. It took Henry several seconds to be able to form words, his heart rattling wildly around in his chest. “Oh, come on, all of you eat, don’t you?” he replied, forcing a laugh to cover his discomfort. “You use knives in potions to chop your ingredients, right? It’s no more dangerous than that, so long as you’re smart about it.” As he spoke he recalled having to pause his Potions O.W.L. for first aid after slicing the tip of his finger along with his ginger root, and hoped nobody listening was old enough to have heard about that. But well—that’s what Madam Pomfrey was here for. Henry had even been perfecting his basic healing spells to fix up any minor cuts himself.

He retreated back to pick out a pumpkin for himself. @Gene Horowitz was giving him a skeptical look from the snack table. “Shut up,” Henry mumbled back. He was almost angry at them all then. Kids carved pumpkins all the time, didn’t they? With their parents or whoever? Why was it too much to ask that a bunch of teenagers have any basic bloody safety skills?? Now it was going to be his fault if some idiot juggled a carving knife into someone else’s eye.

Obviously he couldn’t call anything to a halt now, now that people were here. He had that problem with most things he tried to do. After about two days he’d realized how stupid it was to write every student a birthday card, but the kids from those two days had already got them, so he was shackled to that idiot plan for the rest of the year. And now he’d gotten everybody’s attention with all his dumb pumpkins, so he had to follow through even if it had been a foolish idea in the first place.

“You can just scoop all the insides onto the floor,” he said hurriedly to no one in particular, lifting his medium-sized pumpkin on a table so he could still be seen. “I can clean up, don’t worry about it. You can use these big ol’ spoons over here.” He’d wanted to find a spell that could clear out a pumpkin, but most of the ones he could find would take a lot of precision for so small a target. At least he’d been wary of overconfident kids taking a chunk out of the floor. At least he’d been wary of something, hadn’t he? He sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm down. It felt like he spent all his time being wary of everything, but still he managed to be an idiot.
7
At the Lake / Re: new slang [nell]
« Last post by Samuel Leone on Today at 07:25:52 AM »
"Nell..." Sam slapped a hand over his chest, leaning against a nearby tree in an attempt to catch his breath. Phase one of the whole 'breaking up the party' thing wasn't off to a great start. "Merlin on a melon, you scared me," The Gryffindor prefect finally regained his composure and stood up, taking in the sight of his friend. Based on their shared choice of attire, he could assume that they were on the same mission that night. It made sense given the fast and furious run down of the event that he had been given by the three first years.

For a moment, Sam was uncomfortable under her gaze, but the moment passed quickly. Pushing back his shoulders, he stood up straight. He was filled with the unfounded confidence of a sixteen-year-old who had just been granted not one, but two, positions of power. "Really?" He smiled, revealing a toothy grin under the moonlight, even through the dense foliage. "Don't you usually wear your thermals to parties?" He raised an eyebrow and wrapped an arm over his friend's shoulders in a brief greeting.

Peering from their vantage point that was up on a hill in the forest, he studied the group of their peers. He couldn't recognize any of them immediately, but the familiar snort-laugh that carried across the lake he was sure belonged to the no other than Belinda Bagsby. He shuddered at the sound that had so often woken him from a nap, from all the way in the Common Room.

"Break it up," Sam declared finally, though the assurance of his tone was not convincing. If he was being honest, the bonfire looked fun. And the whole getting people in trouble deal wasn't exactly his favorite part of the job. Maybe they could just turn up and convince everyone to head back to their dorms without any real reprimanding necessary. After having a few drinks and eating a few s'mores.

"Well..." He justified, turning to gauge his friend's reaction. "It does kind of smell like they are grilling sausage?" He shrugged his shoulders as if that were the one sign that he needed to join. If Nell didn't talk him out of this now, phase two of the whole 'break the party up' thing was going to go just as bad. "We could just," Sam pursed his lips together and crossed his arms across his chest as though that made him appear more serious. "Stop in? he finally suggested.
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Ilvermorny Grounds / Re: the world's been turning [pim]
« Last post by Adam Nguyen on Today at 06:32:02 AM »
“Carrie,” said Adam, stepping up and over a rock. He added after a moment, “That was Carrie’s bonfire, not Mary Lou’s. And, come on, Mary Lou is really nice.” He hadn’t even tripped completely over the tree root, for her to crack up so much at him; as he trudged along the path, a little more sourly, he wondered what sort of hysterics she’d have had if he’d actually fallen over. It would be worth it just for her reaction, almost.

Pim had brought a blanket, like the prepared and clever person that she was and he wasn’t; he rolled his eyes theatrically as she wrapped it around her shoulders and said, “Weak. Just freeze to death.”

Which was what Adam was doing— his jackets weren’t quite enough to block out the cold, and the rock had been frosted over and was now damp. He shifted uncomfortably and made a little grumbling noise just to drive the point home that it was cold. “Thought it was just the two of you,” he said, “How much preparation would she need to do?”

He supposed he didn’t know, though, what sort of Thanksgiving Pim and her mother would have had; his, he knew, was far from traditionally American. Pim stretched out, catlike, on the rock, probably just to rub it in that it wasn’t bothering her; Adam hunched his shoulders up to his ears and rubbed his hands together— “Show-off. We can’t all have frozen hearts.” His fingers felt like they were going to fall off and his ears felt nearly there. She was the skinny one, what the hell.

“Won’t she miss you?” he said, after a moment weighing his options. He’d heard enough about Pim’s mother over the years to have a good guess— that she would— and he couldn’t understand that just that fact wasn’t a good enough excuse to go home. It was half of why he did, wasn’t it? That they missed him?

(Or that he missed them— but who was counting?)

Adam shoved his hands deep into his pockets, flexed his fingers in a useless attempt to make them feel more movable. He should have brought like, gloves, or something. Moron.

The end of the world was a cool thing to have seen, actually; “Did we go down in flames?” he said, drily. Pim didn’t try in Divination— something Adam didn’t really understand. (Wasn’t there value in the supernatural? The, like, even more supernatural?) But then it never seemed like Pim tried in like, anything. Adam didn’t, either, usually, but he at least sucked at the classes he wasn’t trying in, the proper way.

She added, with mocking enthusiasm, another vision of the future; he rolled his eyes— “Pfft. You don’t have to tell me shit, if my mom loved her I can guess. Did you go?”
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"Awh. That was a very sweet thought." Rosaline smiled, reaching over and pretending to check his forehead with her hand. "Do you have a temperature?" She was only teasing, of course. It wasn't terribly out of character for Iago to do nice things for her, though he could also be a right prat. Still, she loved him regardless. He was family, technically. She had known him since she was an infant, and they had always gotten along. She loved both of his sisters too, though she favored Gabriella.

"I have been quite well." Her smile brightened a little. "Better than I've been in a very long time." It was true. Marrying Michael was something that, before, she had never thought possible. She wasn't sure what she would do without him. Michael Evans, a muggleborn, was the love of her life. It still seemed strange, after the way that she had been raised. Her mother had even grown to like Michael, though begrudgingly at first. Purism ran deep, though she ha found that it was curable. None of them were beyond redemption, it seemed, and she was glad to see her loved ones really pulling together for her.

Taking a moment more to admire her new plant, she then looked back up at Iago. "Tell the children that I really must have more of their work. They're very talented." She had no children of her own, not yet, but she had taken care of Lucia while her mother was teaching at Hogwarts. It was definitely stressful, but fulfilling in a way. Of course, she had the help of Lorcan, the house elves, and a nanny to boot. "If you ever need a break, I would be more than happy to watch them for you. They could play with Lucia."

Gabriella? "Actually, I was just writing to her. She seems to be doing well. Better, anyway. Have you not spoken with her?" How curious...
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France / Re: [paris] moon, stand still a while [prosper]
« Last post by Luciana Bertinelli on Today at 03:32:28 AM »
Luciana held the candy vine in one hand and lifted her glass with the other, drinking a little more to steady the nerves that had started seeping back in now that the adrenaline from before was waning. Prosper was helping too, she supposed. Did this mean she owed him? Better not to think about that right now.

She licked her lips, enjoying the sour tang from Prosper’s creation and the way it was making her mouth tingle. She kept sipping as he tidied behind the bar – noting that he’d already finished his own drink. Part of her wondered if he’d even put any alcohol in it, and then the other part of her remembered they’d both come a long way from getting drunk off of two glasses of wine on his parent’s sofa.

“I… well, I have a room booked, but I think I’ll check in somewhere else,” she glanced at him, then around the room. “I would rather not stay in the same hotel…” She assumed Prosper would know without her having to spell it out. “And I don’t want to get a portkey at this hour, it’ll be horrendously expensive.” She sighed; it wasn’t that she couldn’t afford it if she was desperate, she just didn’t want to waste her money. Her father made money quickly but he also had a bad habit of spending it just as fast as it came in. Luciana was smarter than that. She got an allowance, but most of it was tucked away – just in case.

She met his gaze at his follow up question, he seemed to have genuinely forgotten that she lacked the ability to apparate. “Walking,” she replied, not unkindly. “Know anywhere nearby?”
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