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Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread

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  • Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)
    Beauxbatons - Female - Muggle Born - Secondary


    Though Naomi had arrived to the train station with Raph, Kiara, and their staff escort it hadn’t taken the young woman long to wander off and find herself in the cargo cart with walls lined with luggage and crates. Naomi wasn’t the kind of person to go snooping through others things but rather her focus fell on the animals currently traveling in their own mystical enclosures. Each creature, likely most of them pets, were safely stowed away in a magical habitat that was far bigger inside than one might believe. Her fingers were stained red with sweet berry juice from the strawberries she had been feeding to Claus as he hung in his enclosure. The white bat had eagerly gobbled up any and all offerings she had, his wide dark eyes glittering at the sight of food. Zuko on the other hand was still full from his meal prior to boarding so instead the black barn owl simply accepted the gentle stroking of Naomi’s fingers across his feathers.

    It was all too easy to lose track of time as she tended to her beloved pets and admired several others from afar. She would never intrude on an animal she did not know, and certainly never without the owner present. After a while, she found herself content leaning back against the wall with her legs crossed in front of her and her gaze focused on the dancing shafts of light streaming in through the small windows above. The cargo cart did not have grand windows like those the students and professors inhabited. Instead, it had smaller, thinner, rectangular windows along the top of the wall just before it sloped upwards to become the roof. With the scenery constantly changing outside due to the speed of the train and the clouds moving around the sun the light that filtered through those windows was ever changing. Watching it brighten and dim with the dust drifting through it was like watching the simplest and most beautiful of magics, or at least that is how Naomi viewed it. She took great pleasure in appreciating the simple things in life and the great beauty that came with them. All too often it was easy to overlook something you see all the time but Naomi found it could be quite the inspiring experience to just study the moment and find the beauty planted within.

    Finally, after who knows how long, Naomi got to her feet and began to make her way out of the cargo cart with a final farewell to the pets tucked within. In her hand she carried a leather strap with a book and case attached to it, her basic drawing supplies. It was a simple token that could provide endless hours of entertainment if she could find a spot to get comfortable and pull out her pencils. Soundlessly she stepped through the halls of the carts trying to find the place that felt right. She passed plenty of open cabins, a few with people in them, and one particularly crowded one where she believed she caught a glimpse of her schoolmates but she never stopped. As she neared the end of the train a familiar voice sounded from the other side of a door and Naomi’s pale pink lips pulled into a small smile. She didn’t know the owner of the voice incredibly well but still, she was drawn to interact with him. Knocking gently on the door between them she slid it open and looked around with a sweet and innocent smile. “Hello Vasu.” She greeted the young man with a polite nod of her head.

    Her eyes then drifted to another face in the room, one she did not know. “Hello.” She greeted kindly, her gaze gentle as she looked upon him. “My name is Naomi.” She added, realizing it would be polite to share her name as well. Her voice was soft and airy, like a cloud as she spoke. “May I join you?” She asked those who occupied the room, having not set foot inside yet.



    Mentions: Vasu Aviator Aviator Lanre pearjuice pearjuice



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Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Bored






Location:


Train






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Lanre and Vasu










Ricardo found that he was not a fan of traveling. Especially when he was by himself. He knew that running into Bubbles before boarding the train was a slim chance. He was closely watched by all wizards and witches in any imaginable place so his absence was not a surprise. Not being able to find Valencia made for an uneasy ride. He did what he could to pass the time. Play games by himself, listen to music, nap. He had dared to draw on spare paper that he had in his suitcase which only served to remind him what a terrible artist he was. Finally he gave up and after what felt like hours of being on the train he decided to do some wandering around.

He didn't have very long to say goodbye to his mother at the station. Ricardo wasn't sure if she had been allowed to be there in the first place but he company was still valued. He was used to leaving and changing his life on a whim but he didn't like to do it. It always meant long distances from his mom for some reason. She was supportive of his traveling and proud of him for taking the life changing opportunity. But it didn't make their goodbyes any easier.

The slim and pale student made his way to the front of the bus. First passing a large crowd of people. He heard a girl talking about photography and in the doorway saw a boy sitting with four other girls, pigging out on some food. The bag that sat on the floor was mostly obscured by the figure of a girl he would later be able to identify as Ramona. But it struck him as familiar somehow. Next he passed a door that led outside. There he recognized Cha-Cha talking to someone who had his back to Ricardo. He didn't look for as long as he should have because he barely registered the silhouette of Clara. He saw her for a millisecond before he continued his journey down the train and did not think twice about the girl also appearing familiar.

He passed a few more spots. One train had two teachers and Ricardo knew that he would get to know them soon enough. Whether he wanted to or not. Finally Ricardo found Lisandro but seeing that he was befriending another student, he did not want to disturb them and chose to begin walking back to where he had been planted the duration of the train ride thus far. That was until he noticed two boys were sitting, looking at something small and circular in one of the boys hands.

"Hey." Ricardo nodded towards the spare seats in the cabin before looking at the two boys, stopping next to the girl who stood in the doorway. His vision settled on the lighter skinned boy holding the mystery item. He looked like he was more likely to speak up and from there Ricardo finally made out that the item was a coin of some sort. "Got room for one more in here? My options are a party of five and two couples unless I want to talk to a bunch of teachers. Which is not really my speed."







 







  • ramona bunker
    ilvermorny secondary

    F
    eeling friendly and extra talkative, Ramona was glad that she had happened upon this car with these people. Luckily, they were all relatively pleasant and seemed to match her energy, which is something she was always worried about when meeting new people. She liked talking to people, a lot, and knew that sometimes people just weren’t feeling it. Luckily, this boy was even playing along with her jokes.

    Luckily, he was talking to her about one of her big interests. She’d only had her camera for a bit, but her photo roll was full of all kinds of pictures. Places and some people. She usually liked the places because she found a lot of peace in exploring by herself, seeing places where people used to be, or where they go, how things look without the human there. She figured a lot of it had to do with feeling lonely, feeling abandoned in her own ways. She related to the places she photographed, felt like she belonged there. She didn’t get that same thing when she photographed people. But… on the other hand, maybe it was time for her to stop feeling abandoned. It’d been a long time since she’d truly felt that way. Ramona taught herself to make friends with anyone she met and made it her mission to do so.

    She shrugged at the boy’s question.
    “Well, maybe for some people. When I photograph people, it’s harder because I have to pose them, I have to be flattering to them, both me and them have to be still, and I'm so hyperactive as it is. With places, a building doesn’t move and doesn’t care if the picture isn’t the best. It’s mostly for fun anyways.”


    Ramona giggled at him going along with her joke. Ramona herself would do just about anything for a bit, so it was always a relief to meet people who went along with them. She tapped her chin in a thinking way, and then pulled out her pretend invisible notebook and pencil.

    “More… color,”
    she mimed writing.
    “I’ll make sure they get right on that. Honestly, I’ve always thought that they could go for a more pastel vibe in here, make it more hip with the kids.”





    location:
    Cosmo's train car








    feeling:
    friendly, excited


 




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    I don't understand muggle music. The 12 days of Christmas is completely unrealistic. There is no way that you're still accepting gifts from someone after 4 days of birds. Anyways, happy holidays. Don't forget my gift.
    - Your favorite sister​






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Cosmo watched Raphael and Ramona talk, completely captivated by the device the two were discussing. While he knew what a camera was and even how it worked, he had never seen one up close before. He was not as gentle with items as someone of his nature should be. It was pretty common knowledge that he couldn't be trusted with anything expensive. He had a tendency to break things on accident. When their family went to museums, he had to stand at least two feet away from whatever display he was looking at, with his hands behind his back. Even then, being that close to anything usually kept his family on edge.

"Pastel would be nice." He agreed, nearly finished with his food. This was only thanks to how ridiculously fast he was eating, and even then he was already bending down, his gaze then focusing on the bag of food in front of him on the floor. Methodically he shuffled through the contents of the bag before pulling out another meal - this one a pasta with chicken inside. Tearing into the silverware and opening the bin he added on, "You look artsy. Do you paint too?"

It was a silly question but one he was curious about. A lot of his friends that were crafty with their hands and minds gave off the same energy that he felt he was getting from Ramona. She was pretty, with curly hair and overalls that were a red orange combination. Even knowing that she was from a different country he found it amusing that certain types of people tended to gravitate towards similar comforts. He couldn't wait to see what the other Quidditch players would wear or what exercises they did. Would he learn new ways to prepare playing his favorite sport? Or were things that had to do with a wizard's body fundamentally the same everywhere?

He took a bite of his pasta, glancing back over at Kiara and Gavy. They looked content but he didn't want them to feel excluded. Clara, on the other hand, could jump off the train for all he cared right then. Okay, maybe not, but he knew that her company would ruin the good vibes going on in the room and he selfishly hoped that she wouldn't come back unless she was in spirits high enough to socialize in.



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    I changed. It's hard for me to know who I was before all of this. I molded myself into a pretender. Now, every other version of me feels fake.

    - Written about herself​






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Amity had barely gotten the words out of her mouth to ask Einar about his students when a third face popped into their room. She looked up, her blue eyes locking with a pair of brown ones. She gave him a warm smile and scooted over on the bench she sat on. She patted the seat next to her lightly and nodded. "Why certainly!" She replied in a cheery southern accent. "We're just talkin' about our students. C'mon, take a seat! I promise we don't bite. What's your name?"

Though the man looked to be somewhere between her and Einar's age, she found that he was rather cute. Her eyes politely looked over the man over, taking in the darker colors of his outfit and the long strands of hair that hung lose by his face. Despite not knowing him, she thought he looked cozy. The cloud of color that hung above his head was more difficult to ignore than usual; the hues and dullness of the colors suggested some life altering events happening for the worse within the last decade. It would explain the very evident (to her) depression that the stranger may have been struggling with.

"This is Einar and I'm Amity." She explained, not wanting to appear as if she was staring. Sometimes it was easy to get lost in the gifts her empathy gave her, and she didn't want to make the man feel as if he wasn't truly welcome to accompany them. "He teaches history of magic at Durmstrang and I teach astronomy and divination at Ilvermorny."

Had she known that this man once knew Cha-Cha in any capacity, Amity may have been more careful about speaking with him. She would have been happy to see her old (and forcibly) coworker under different circumstances, but as of right then it was risky to even acknowledge that she knew him. While she didn't know where on the train he was right then, she knew for certain that she had not seen him at all and it was only a matter of time before they bumped into one another. But if he didn't know she would be there, the chances of him bringing her up on his own were slim to none. They worked closely together when he was helping the ministry of magic, but it wasn't like they had been very close emotionally. It was work related trust. Even so, she would have to reach him before he recognized her.



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TINY
DOVE


SASHA - COMMENTATOR
Sasha found it on brand for Vasu to get drunk the first chance he saw
to buy as many drinks as he could carry. While the blonde who watched
him buy everything knew that the age of legal drinking varied in other
parts of the world, she had no interest in getting caught up in his
shenanigans. Helping distract their transfiguration professor had been
harder than she thought and after making sure that Vasu was safely on
board, she read in silence next to Kaz who eventually got the idea to get
up and leave. She watched as he stood up, stretched, and left her alone
in the roomette. Sasha presumed she couldn't be very mad at him for
leaning her by her lonesome when she was the one lacking the
confidence to mingle by herself. Without the company of her closest girl
friends, the thought of trying to meet the competition and it blowing up
in her face was much scarier than it was to do back home. Plus she was
less likely to get in trouble being left alone than Vasu was.

Before the blonde had packed for the trip she went and bought every
book imaginable that she thought would benefit herself and Vasu
during the competition. She did not want to come unprepared and she
didn't want to have to rely on books in countries she had never seen
before. Translating things over into a language she could understand
would take too long. She did not share his ability to know, speak and
read multiple langauges and couldn't risk falling behind in any research
she would have to do at the drop of a hat. Sasha didn't want to
embarrass herself in front of the demi-god. She was known for being a
smarty pants and that wouldn't change under her watch.

By the time Professor Kaz abandoned her, Sasha had already read most
of all of the books she brought. And by read, of course this only meant
that she'd read them once all the way through on the long train ride. No,
this was her second time reading everything that she brought. But her
eyes were becoming strained and she knew she still had more of the
already long day ahead of her. Her hands could use a break from all the
writing she had been doing. Sasha didn't have a strong idea of what she
needed to keep an eye out for because the competitions could be about
anything but she had been taking notes of anything that seemed useful
to have in her back pocket later on.

Sasha's stomach growled and she remembered that she had not eaten
before boarding the train, which was earlier in the morning. She was not
feeling up to trying to make new friends without the comfort of her more
extroverted girls guiding her through conversation but as she brought
herself to a stand she couldn't fight the fact that she would likely pass
out if she didn't put something in her stomach. She wasn't sure she
would make it to Ilvermorny without incident. And it would be more
than embarrassing if she were to faint in front of a bunch of strangers
in an unfamiliar place. Finding her resolve she neatly tucked her books
and scrolls of parchment in one of her bags and made her way over to
where the food was. She silently swiped a few pastries, two sandwiches
and what looked like it might have been a bag of chips. But when she
turned around to head back to her room, it dawned on her that she had
not been careful enough about remembering what part of the vehicle she had been on.

She was lost.

The hand of anxiety squeezed like a vice around her stomach and she
swallowed, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. She could try
to find her way back but it wasn't a guarantee. She could try to find a
new place to eat, but what if she accidentally stole someone's seat? She
could try to sit with the teachers. Being a teacher's pet meant that most
adults liked her, but what if she was intruding on them too? It was just
as much of a chance for the chaperones to have fun as it was for the
students to experience the once in a lifetime opportunity that was
the tournament. Sasha would have to risk it and look for an open spot.
There were more private rooms than there were people... right?

Sasha walked slowly through the train, peeking her head in as she went
from door to door, hoping and failing to find an empty place.
interactions: open

© pasta

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ZURI
OSEI


ZURI - OBSERVER
Two warm and golden orbs surveyed the inside of the train with no
regard to how creepy they may have seemed. Zuri remained sharp-eyed
for a majority of her travels, not wanting to allow one moment of failure
to take in her surroundings to result in missing some piece of critical
information that she would need later on. Her trout pout lips that were
suede soft remained pressed in a line, unwavering as people were careful
to step around her and not maintain eye contact.

She had sequestered herself to an untenanted roomette for the duration
of the ride thus far. With little else to do, she nodded off or read her
books, but nothing felt quite as useful as what she was doing afterwards.
When she noticed the nocturnal creatures of North America beginning to
rise and the sky unfurling with hues of amber and rose, she knew that
she was getting close to their destination. From what she was reading
about the other tournaments, there was always some sort of fancy dinner
and a ball to announce the champions. It wouldn't be much longer until
they arrived.

Zuri didn't waste her time getting into her uniform. If she bothered to
change into it, she would only have to take it off in the next hour to put
on a different outfit. She remained in her lose fitting clothes and after
walking up and down the length of the train, she settled into a cranny of
the train that was next to the foods and a couple of booths, only one not
being vacant. Not wanting to be rude by occupying a table if any other of
the students or teachers needed a place to eat, the soon to be named
champion made the call to sit on a wooden bench next to a window that
looked out onto the sun retreating into its slumbering place. From there
she heard a light skinned boy with a buzzcut and Aurelia conversing.

Aurelia was a grade above Zuri. She didn't keep up with gossip or
general speak of their school but she knew enough to know that the
soon to be heir of her family island was bound to be a tough opponent.
Luckily for Zuri, she wouldn't be going against her. One of them would
be chosen the championof Uagadou and the other would be helping
secure their school's victory.

Something about Zuri was that she had grown to be a haughty person.
Her confidence in her skills was not disproportionately large as she was
a talented girl with many strengths, but her pride got her into more
trouble than she was usually prepared for. Aurelia was more than
capable to be picked as their school's champion. She was older, had
more experience and had a knack for socializing that Zuri never picked
up on growing up. Yet, the younger student was arrogant to think if not
know that it would be her name chosen out of the goblet of fire. It was
dangerous thinking but she was never a fan of smooth sailing through
life.

She listened boredly as Aurelia and the boy who called himself Lisandro
made small talk about their travels. Zuri made no attempt to make herself
look as if she was doing anything other than people watching. Her arms
were crossed at her sides and her vision tunneled at the ground below
her unless she heard a door open or heard new people entering and
exiting the space around her.
interactions: next to lis and aurelia

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Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “the Friendly Demon” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens​

Cha-Cha smiled, then, a bright, charming smile that made the radiant colors of the encroaching sunset look dull in comparison, more dangerous than any blade. He wondered what this strange girl thought he was doing but didn’t want to put her on the spot with such a blatant question. From her narrowed eyes and rigid posture, he figured that such a question would make her defensive and confirm her suspicion that he was up to something nefarious. “Why, just trying to make a friend, of course. You don’t have many of those, do you?” Someone else might have asked the question mockingly, as a setup to make the girl feel like a failure. But Cha-Cha asked it with no bite of malice. He was equally curious about her, and he had his own hypotheses to confirm or reject by way of her response. A look somewhere between alarm and mild indignance flashed across the punk-looking girl’s face, but either she was unsure of how to respond or unwilling to, because she didn’t immediately reply. It was an incriminating silence, one that told Cha-Cha his hunch had been right. “No worries. It’s never too late to start, and the beginning of a long journey is the best time to make friends!”
He wasn’t so bold as to suggest that she consider him her first friend, because names were a powerful thing, and Cha-Cha knew that as soon as she learned his real one and all the scandal associated with it, this girl would probably do her best to avoid him, as others were inclined to do. “That’s the spirit!” he cooed, playing along with her false optimism that she be poisoned at a reasonable temperature. And then, because this girl seemed more skittish than a spooked horse and he couldn’t resist, “Everyone should meet the end in utmost comfort.” This time, the girl’s pale features expanded into wide-eyed horror, as if Cha-Cha were a ghastly creature that had crawled out of the grave and given her a cold cadaver kiss. “It was a joke,” he said quickly, not wanting to truly scare her. “Clearly a poor one.” As a peace offering, he extended the plastic container filled with sugary green orbs spiky with coconut shavings, looking rather like colorful stress balls. The green dough was derived from a paste made with the leaves of pandan plants. “Shall we?”
After a short period of deliberation, as if she were truly debating the odds of being poisoned, the dark-haired girl agreed to try one. She unclasped her purse in search of napkins, giving Cha-Cha a glimpse of the various notebooks and scrolls vying for space, making the sides of the purse bulge. He wondered whether they were the academic or personal kind. The notion of personal journaling always made his lips twitch with amusement. As someone with the power to peruse the endlessly vast internal libraries of the human consciousness, Cha-Cha always got a kick out of spotting the incongruencies between someone’s subjective analysis of the events in their lives recorded in their journals and his more objective one. Self-bias was unavoidable, and no one openly thought of themselves as a villain. He regarded journaling with the same sort of cynical mirth that those of conventional beliefs about the Earth’s shape regard a devout flat-earther.
Bad ex-therapist, Cha-Cha chided himself and his fondness for exposing the uglier sides of human nature. He accepted the napkins the girl extended to him with a polite thank-you and plucked one of the sweet rice cakes from the plastic container. She mimicked him. And then she uttered a two-syllable something so abrupt that he looked up quickly, uncertain. Oh. She was introducing herself. Clara was her name. A pause, and then with equal loquaciousness, she declared her school.
Cha-Cha generally tried to put off introductions as long as possible in a new encounter. Names were not of nearly as much import as people liked to suppose. All human beings had innate value, whether or not their names were known. That, and his name tended to rub people the wrong way. Still, it was a song and dance he’d been through many times, and he didn’t falter when the Durmstrang girl—Clara—looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to offer up his own name and school. She maintained a degree of eye contact that was both surprising and impressive, yet neither warm nor inviting, as if they were two opponents eyeing each other over a mahjong board. Cha-Cha replied, “I’m a professor at Castelobruxo. You can call me Cha-Cha. Everyone does.” Another bright smile reached his eyes, making them glitter like stolen stars.
Clara’s features briefly twisted into something disparaging, as if she were thinking that it was hardly a privilege to call him Cha-Cha when everyone else already did. But before she could get off a retort, the train suddenly jounced, hard. The force of it threw Cha-Cha sideways and he lost his balance, falling against the metal rail. The Tupperware leapt out of his hands as if eager to escape, lid and all. Before he could catch it, it was snapped away by sheer momentum, flying away from the train until it fell against the side of the tracks with a violent green splatter like demonic blood. A second later, the specks were almost imperceptible as the train continued to rattle on, oblivious to the destruction in its wake. All that remained of the klepon was the one that he held in a napkin and the one that Clara held. With his other hand, Cha-Cha hung on to the railing, frozen, too startled to immediately move as he watched the fruits of his labor disappear on the horizon. A man known for his silver tongue and ability to rally a crowd, he was reduced to a very articulate declaration of: “Well, fuck.”
Remembering that he had company, he whirled to Clara with another smile, but this one was a tad more forceful than the others had been. He brushed back the hair that had fallen into his face. “No matter then. If anything, these two we still have are even more special now.” Unwilling to tempt fate again—maybe a bird would swoop out of the sky and snatch the remainders—he bit into his rice cake, the subsequent puncture mark slightly deeper on both ends where Cha-Cha’s fangs had dug in. The mutilated circle revealed a warm brown filling, oozing molten sugar. It tasted overtly of coconut, with a chewy exterior and gooey sweet interior. The pandan leaves added a certain complexity to the dish, with nutty, floral, and grassy vanilla notes. Cha-Cha was surprisingly impressed with his work, yet it made him mourn the fact that the others in the batch had perished. A treat to be savored, indeed.
Aware of the soft pressure of Clara’s gaze—perhaps she actually was expecting him to collapse convulsing to the floor—he grinned and said, “Don’t just watch me! I want to know what you think. And maybe one day I’ll serve them in class if they’re any good.” Taking one last eyeful of the green rice cake as if casting away her doubts, Clara took a bite, averting her gaze as she chewed. Cha-Cha laughed lightly watching her reaction. “You’re a peculiar thing, aren’t you, Clara?” he asked, though it was more an observation phrased as a question for the sake of politeness. Her eyes shot back to him, but she didn’t look offended. It was clearly a reaction that she was used to getting, if perhaps not in so many words. And from her cagey manner Cha-Cha guessed that she wasn’t used to others indulging her peculiarity for so long.
Not one for uncomfortable silences, he said, “I couldn’t help noticing that you carry a lot of notebooks and scrolls in your bag, and clearly you’re a good student to be participating in the tournament. What are your preferred subjects of study?” Clara’s face buckled again, slamming shut like a vault. It was a reaction Cha-Cha was coming to associate with her when she was asked a personal question. Or even surface-level questions, he amended nonjudgmentally. Everyone was entitled to their privacy. “Unless you’re afraid that telling me will blow your competitive advantage. But don’t worry, I promise you I won’t relay any of our conversation to my students. You’re off the books, gadis aneh.” He took another bite of klepon, busying himself while Clara inevitably debated how much to tell him.
 
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    You are worth finding. Worth knowing. Worth loving. You and all your one million layers. I know you think yourself to be full of poems and rage but you are more than your anger. I miss the girl who was really happy.

    - Your big bro​






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ooc: im so sorry for this one. if i need to condense it let me know. evidently, clara LOVES to talk and critique people. you legit may need to sit down and get comfy for this one

The strangers joking along with her being poisoned made Clara's eyes widen in shock. While she half attempted to hide her amusement at his words, her lips were struggling to cooperate. Not many people played along with her jokes, stating that they were often too cruel or morbid, so the man playing along had thrown her off. But now she was trying and failing to not burst out into laughter, which certainly wouldn't look good while the man apologized, mistaking her reaction for one of terror. She supposed it was a fair reaction - she had yet to give him any acknowledgement that she didn't think his company to not be awful and for a girl with many different expressions, she was keeping her cards close to her chest and not showing much through her expressions.

She copied his movements of picking up one of the treats he made once she had dug out her napkins, listening along as he offered a nickname in place of his real one and stated that he taught at Castelobruxo. It came as a mild surprise because Clara didn't think that Cha-Cha looked to be more Indonesian than anything, but she wasn't ignorant to the fact that there could be various reasons for him teaching in South America, all of which certainly weren't her business. For now. "Cha-Cha." She repeated, as if taking the name for a test drive in her mouth. At least it rolled off the tongue easily for her. She once had a friend who spoke multiple languages, and while Clara knew common phrases in a few different ones, she technically only knew two languages well enough for them to be considered the ones that she knew entirely without needing to think before she spoke or double check her words with a translation book. Right now she was envious of that friend, because where the hell did a nickname like Cha-Cha come from? What could it possibly be shortened from?

Just as the words got out of her mouth, the train jostled around, and being fortunate enough to have a free hand, the one not holding the klepon grasping against a metal pole that thankfully didn't appear to be a pipe or anything important to the structure of the vehicle. By the time she turned to check on Cha-Cha, she noticed a lack of a tray in his hands. Her blue eyes slid over to the ground, only seeing the flash of bright green for a split of a second before the train continued on. She didn't flinch at the curse that came out of the professor's mouth - she was usually the reason profanities were said to begin with back home - and felt a little guilty at the lack of warmth that didn't reach his eyes despite the dazzling smile that he turned around and gave her. Back when she cared to make friends, she knew how important it had been to make good first impressions and how special it was to treat those friends to things that she put time and effort into. Clara doubted this teacher had any problem making friends with the endearing personality front he had and his spellbinding smiles, but baking or cooking were not easy things that didn't require time. She loved to do both, and knew that him only saying fuck took a lot of self control. It was almost impressive.

Cha-Cha's voice pulled her back to the present, and she noticed that he had already taken a bite of his food. Ignoring the alien way her stomach was warming up, she averted her gaze and took a bite of the snack. It was good, but it also made her wonder if Cha-Cha had been a liar or if he was one of those annoying people that were humble about themselves. Like Cosmo. she thought to herself in distaste. Fortunately for her, thoughts about someone as revolting as her brother were not enough to ruin her appetite for the klepon. It was really good - for her own personal taste she would have added more sugar, but the recipe he used was better than ones she'd had even in restaurants. He certainly hadn't spent much time in South America because this had to be a family recipe or something. Clara was about to say just as much and even be so bold as to say that she didn't hate his cooking when he spoke again. She swallowed her bite before answering. "I may or may not have heard similar train of thoughts on the matter." She replied, the corner of her mouth tugging upwards. "I've been known to answer or live up to less.... polite ways of putting it."

She took the only other bite she would be able to take of the treat, easily chewing and swallowing it as she averted her gaze a second time from Cha-Cha to look out at the picture perfect portrait their surroundings would have made. It was a great momentary distraction. The rays of the brightest star had been kissing the professor's face and making him appear like he was glowing. His once pale complexion had turned a vibrant golden bronze when the train had carelessly thrown away what she knew was likely an afternoon's worth of cooking. Clara wasn't normally startled or made uncomfortable by attractive people, nor was she ever known to be boy crazy or girl crazy but it had been a long while since anyone was nice to her. Cha-Cha being a relatively handsome man stood out to Clara, which was both irritating and intriguing. Alas, he was a teacher and she wouldn't cross that line - he was a stranger and they were alone. There was nobody else to put on a performance for and so she didn't want to. Had they been in the company of other students perhaps she would have.

Clara turned back around, her electric blue meeting his deep brown. She titled her head, considering the question. It may not have thought his question to be a loaded one, but she knew what he was really asking. Or at least she thought she did. As it stood she was aware of the fact that to some degree, he wanted to be seen as nice. Everyone was inherently selfish so he could lie until he was blue in the face and say that he did nice things to be nice, but selfish desire almost always trumped selflessness; he wanted to be viewed as nice and be socially rewarded for being such. Even so, she knew the amount of thick books and items with her handwriting on it was enough to warrant the unspoken question in his observations. At first, she didn't want to answer, especially when she knew that he was wrong in assuming that she would be allowed to do much in the competition, but after a few seconds of consideration and Cha-Cha's insistence that he wouldn't hold anything she said against her, it seemed foolish to not take him up on his offer. She would oblige, despite the fact that she was pretty sure he had just called her something weird in his native language.

"Well, if I really am off the books..." She caved. "In school I like defense against the dark arts and dark arts in general. All of my classes are easy though, so I like to challenge myself." She began. No longer having anything to eat, she stuffed the napkin in an empty pocket of her purse and began rummaging through it, reading aloud topics of the contents inside each item based off of the front of the journals or the ribbons tied around her scrolls. "Let's see, I've got... alchemy, muggle and wizard anatomy, some recipes I found when I was looking up something else - I'll need yours, by the way, because it tastes different than mine and I think I like yours more - um.. well this one, this one's actually empty because I use it to mess with my brother," It was evident that the longer Clara talked about herself the more comfortable she became. A touch of narcissism never hurt anyone, right? Plus, she needed to do all of that talking to feel comfortable acknowledging that she truly did like Cha-Cha's cooking. Would she even be herself if she didn't cover any ounce of kindness that she had with a ton of self-obsession?

"Legilimency, blackma-" Seeing a shift across from her, Clara looked up and noticed that something had changed in Cha-Cha. She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by whatever it was. "Legilimency, really?" She asked, incredilous. "Huh. Okay. Just keep an open mind." Clara pulled out a muggle journal, the leather a dark green with gold accents and very worn, showing many months and weeks of use. The corners towards the outer right side of the book were faded in color and material. Multiple papers stuck out of it, and after glancing up hesitantly at Cha-Cha, she tugged a few papers out of the side and reluctantly handed them over to Cha-Cha.

"Do you know about that really smart therapist who killed a bunch of people and went to Azkaban?" She started out, at this point not really paying close attention to Cha-Cha's expression. Both because she didn't want to see it because she knew it was likely a disapproving one, but also because she had dug out her wand as well. A gentle tap on the journal caused both the tip of her wand and parts of the journal to glow, the pages and letters on the front of it shifting until it settled on English - a language that she was confident the man across from her would be able to read. "Well, my professor mentioned him once before in one of his lessons - Professor Einar. He's alright, not that anyone would believe you if you told anyone I willingly gave someone a compliment." She pointed out bitterly, pausing her explanation to roll her eyes. She opened the book, seemingly looking for something specific.

The papers she had handed Cha-Cha were printed documents of one of the newer articles he had put out, with Clara's handwriting around and on the back of the paper. Things of interest were highlighted with questions and comments jutted down to the side. "Anyways, it was severely downplayed how smart that guy is. Everyone hears about the way some of his patients helped him and that he killed, but he's been making groundbreaking discoveries. I mean, just look at all of this stuff! This could be a class all on its own. I'm not a killer apologist by any means, but I'm learning more through his studies than I am in some of my classes back in Europe."

Though she had tried to sound bored or indifferent about the topic, at this point the passion was undeniable - there was a twinkle in her eye the longer she talked, and her body was becoming animated and less frozen or stiff as it had been earlier. There was a smile beginning to grow on her expression, the tense spots relaxing into something more casual. "I think it'd be so cool to learn legilimency. I've been reading up on it and trying to teach it to myself, but there's only so much you can do without a teacher. Nobody wants to teach me because I'm... peculiar." Any disappointment she felt about nobody wanting to teach her was masked by the joke she slipped in, echoing Cha-Cha's particular phrasing of describing her behavior. "And I guess it's hard to convince people that maybe we shouldn't judge a killer too harshly, but I'm quite fond of anti-heroes. I know what it's like to be miscalculated and judged for mistakes from the past myself. Ah!"

Having found what she was looking for, she moved to stand beside Cha-Cha, maintaining what was almost a laughable amount of distance between them despite the driven demeanor she had talking about the topic. Showing him her notebook, it was a page going back to when Clara was a second year student. The two pages shown were filled top to bottom with her handwriting, detailing the fascination she felt about one of the murderer's specific brain mapping articles and an hypothesis she had herself - one that of course had been wrong, and was shown as such with a big 'LOL' written besides it at the bottom of the second page. Clara was smart, but not smarter than the man himself doing the research. Even so, she had had a good time trying to make her own discovery.

"You see, this book is mostly all notes and questions I have about legilimency, but every so often I get distracted by other stuff because this guy's a genius. I can still follow along to what he writes about easily, even with having to translate everything. Do you know how difficult it is to teach and explain your thoughts cohesively enough that it can be undesrtood in multiple languages? Oh man, and just think about what little pieces I'm missing from whatever gets lost in translation! I tried to teach myself how to read it, but I can never focus on it long enough because I'm too impatient to learn it before going back to see what he's published. But everything I know about legilimency is from him. How cool is it that anyone can do something so difficult so easily? I don't think I would want to read minds because I don't really need to to know what people think of me, but it's the one thing I can't seem to teach myself. And-"

It was at this point that Clara realized she had been rambling, and she paused. She glanced up at him, not really sure what to expected to see. She couldn't recall if he had tried to cut her off earlier or if he'd just been politely listening in silence but most people argued with her, let alone let her get out more than a few sentences about the matter. She was usually shut down quickly. Nobody wanted to hear that a student was interested in what a world known killer had to offer. Clara was known to ask a lot of questions to begin with, but she liked to know how and why things worked. It's why she was a good student. She didn't just care about getting the right answer, she wanted to know it and understand everything from all angles. She was used to that part being shut down and it was odd it hadn't already been by this point. Plus, wasn't she trying to enjoy this teacher being nice to her? Why the hell had she indulged his curiosity? She probably looked like a freak wanting to learn how to read minds from someone who'd taken lives.



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Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​
Vasu smirked like a cat with a bird in its mouth, basking in Lanre’s praise. Aware that he had captivated the other boy’s attention, he pinched the coin by its rim in between his thumb and forefinger, spreading the others as to not obstruct Lanre’s view. Then Vasu pressed his two fingers together, vanishing the coin. He showed Lanre his open, empty palm. Then with a snappy motion, quick as thought, Vasu turned his palm upward, where the coin had neatly manifested. Lanre oohed and ahhed, and Vasu’s head felt as light as a balloon with glee. He hadn’t used any actual magic for the illusion; as a veteran card player and one who gambled as his primary form of income, sleight of hand was a necessary skill. Although he didn’t tell Lanre this; he’d let the Hogwarts boy believe what he would about the nature of the illusion. “Not as often as I would like,” Vasu admitted truthfully. “My parents—my mother, I mean—is a merchant of rare magics. She owns a Charms shop in Bidar, where we live. Except for the summers, I’m usually too busy to help her with it. But yes, we invent our own enchanted objects and spells, or modify existing ones to the customer’s desire.”
A bitter pang hit Vasu at the revision of that statement. He remembered the depth of his father’s full-bellied laugh. The warm, firm feel of his palm as he’d slapped Vasu on the shoulder when he’d returned home for winter break after his first semester with one of the highest class ranks and did a shot of Johnnie Walker with him to celebrate. And then he’d allegedly contracted tuberculosis and died within two weeks. It’d been an ordinary day, and Vasu had just come out of a rehearsal for the school musical when he’d gotten the letter declaring Yayati Saini dead. Now, that day had been almost a full year ago, yet Vasu still found himself making conversational slips or wanting to write home to his father about a Quaffle he’d blocked, only for a black void to reopen inside him when he recalled that he’d never get the chance again. Yayati had been the only one in the family who wasn’t afraid of Aditi, perhaps because he wasn’t related to her. One time, under the guise of going to the temple, he’d taken Vasu out for a flying lesson and then American-style beef hamburgers, a sin that Aditi would have had their heads for if she’d known.
A silence as thick as winter honey had fallen over the compartment as Vasu brooded, suddenly given too much to think about yet having nothing to say. He lifted his gaze to Lanre, who was sitting on the edge of his seat and drumming his fingers nervously, as if he’d sensed something off with Vasu but wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. Fortunately, they were spared from having to navigate the silence, as just then a gust of wind whipped through the compartment as the door was opened. A sweet, feminine aroma like cherries and vanilla suffused the air. Vasu looked up to where an ethereal being with pixie-like features framed by a curtain of long, pale hair stood in the doorway. She was dressed smartly in a white blouse with a blue-and-green plaid halter top over it and matching skirt.
Vasu was generally no good at remembering names. Most of them were one ear and out the other with him, unless the person or encounter was important enough to warrant a remembrance. But staring at this outwardly fragile porcelain doll, her name rang in his ears even before she spoke it. And Vasu found himself pleased that she had remembered his name, too. Her voice was a lovely blend of accents that caressed the ear like a phrase of music he couldn’t forget. “Naomi Eun Hai. Long time, no see,” he crooned, his voice lilting in a sugary way that suggested he was fond of her. “No, get the hell outta here! Who are you to crash my compartment?” He pointed toward the door aggressively, feigning outrage at her unexpected presence. Naomi blinked and flinched closer to the door, buying it for half a second. Then Vasu’s lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Nah girlie, I’m just messing with you. Truly, I would consider it an honor if you joined us. Please sit down and make yourself at home.” Unlike when Lanre had entered the compartment, Vasu scooched closer to the window, making space for her beside him.
On the whole, Vasu did not like losing. But years of competing—on the stage, playing cards, or Quidditch matches—had taught him to respect the strength and strategies of a superior opponent. Naomi had proven herself as such a little over a year ago, when Koldovstoretz’s Red Court and Beauxbatons’ Papillonlisse House had faced off in the Quidditch final. Naomi had caught the Snitch that ended the game. After the game, while interviews were being conducted and pictures taken and spectators swarmed the half-priced slushie stand, she had approached Vasu to compliment his technique as a Keeper. Vasu had gotten defensive, thinking that this was an attempt for the winner of the contest to gloat. And then, to soothe his wounded feelings, Naomi had surprised him by asking to draw him.
The request had thrown Vasu because no one had ever asked him something like that before, and because it was a unique opportunity, he had reluctantly obliged. He’d ended up liking the finished product; Naomi had drawn him with a fierce expression, chin tilted up a little bit so that he wore a heavy-lidded gaze, leaning on his broomstick as if it were a greatsword stabbed into the earth. They’d gotten talking a little bit afterward, mostly about how a Korean girl had ended up at Beauxbatons, and Vasu had bid her goodbye with her birth name, contrary to how she had been announced on the Quidditch pitch.
Naomi Eun Hai padded into the compartment, hesitant, like a faerie startled out of a forest bower. Vasu spied the leather case in her hand. With another wry twist of lips, he commented, “Come to draw me again? What’d you get for the first one? Several thousand, at least? I have a knack for being photogenic, you know, and in the hands of a great artiste I’m irresistible.” Naomi smiled in response, but it looked more polite than anything. Vasu knew it was mostly the alcohol talking, but he trusted that Naomi didn’t know his behaviors well enough to recognize that he was tipsy. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have been happy to see her sober, but because he wasn’t, he was ecstatic to see this mysterious figure from a time in his past when everything was smooth and uncomplicated. Plus Vasu was hellbent on a rematch during the downtime in between challenges. Naomi was an exceptional witch, and it felt like fate that they’d meet again during another international tournament.
No sooner than she sat down did the door blow open a second time, admitting a boy with sharp, elegant features and a wreath of curly blond hair. He was dressed monochromatically, with a black leather jacket pulled over a white sweatshirt and impressive black-and-white kicks that were clearly new. Vasu wasn’t particularly surprised by this new arrival; his lucky coin had predicted that they would be joined by two more, and he liked being proven right almost as much as he liked winning. “Yeah, I think we can squeeze you in,” he replied insouciantly, as if he didn’t particularly care whether the blond boy stuck around. When in fact Vasu did care, if only because four players was an ideal number for most card games. Vasu was a man of action; small talk only interested him for so long, and then he needed to do something. He needed an objective to seize. “Lanre, do you think you can make space for Pretty Boy?” The question was asked only a tad viciously, and Lanre was not its target. Vasu viewed strangers as opposition, and his first instinct was to poke and prod at them, see what they were made of. He sat up at full height, inching slightly closer to Naomi as he did, liking what having a pretty girl at his side did to his image and subtly laying claim to her.
“Well, folks, as charming as this arrangement is, I think it’s time to liven up the party. Don’t you agree?” Vasu asked the room at large, without inquiring as to the new boy’s name. An opponent was an opponent to him; they’d all be crushed inevitably. He tucked the coin away in a slit in his Sherwani. Goodness, was he the only one dressed for the ball? Everyone else was wearing such casual clothes and it made him wonder whether they planned to change during the train ride or just hadn’t gotten the formal attire memo. It was tempting Vasu to show up to the ball in jeans and a hoodie, and while he thought it was an amusing notion, he knew Aditi would kill him when word got back to her. And it would. He replaced the coin with a deck of cards. Like most of the items in his collection, this deck of cards wasn’t just an ordinary deck; it had a bento box theme, each card depicting various Japanese foods with cute faces. “Everyone up for a card game? Or shall we play truth or dare?” The group paused to deliberate. Sensing Naomi’s attention on him, Vasu used the opportunity to open up the deck of cards and perform a card spring, the cards flying from one of his hands into the other in a papery flurry.
 







Raphael

Beauxbatons Champion







Mood:


Hungry






Location:


Train






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Cosmo, Gavy, Ramona Kiara










Raphael was content to listen to the conversations around him. Jumping from the conversation the girls were having on either side of him to the one with Cosmo and the girl who had just sat down (Ramona, he reminded himself) was exhausting but it was work he was happy to do. It wasn't often that he was allowed to join in on large social events. Being the rowdy person he was, he was usually seen as a threat to the events. For example, back home he had refrained from going to one of the school dances because a few too many teachers made it a point to pull him aside and tell him that he had to conduct himself better should he show up to the dance. It wasn't like he wanted to go anyways but it still hurt to think that so many people thought that he would ruin something on purpose. It wasn't like he ever intended to break things to begin with.

He knew at a young age that he was more energetic than the kids around him. It was something he accepted about himself long before he knew there was a name to being restless. While other kids seemed to grow out of it or figure out a way to manage it, Raphael continued to struggle. Maybe it was because he didn't have a stable home to take notice of the behaviors or maybe it was because he only tired himself out physically. Either way the problems revolving around it never went away. It was why the conversation with the girls was refreshing. Both of the blondes spoke about different topics in the span of a few short minutes and it was a good sign that they were similar to Raphael. He wasn't overly social but he had no problem following along and connecting the dots on some of the things that were being said.







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Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Bored






Location:


Train






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Lanre, Naomi, Vasu and Sasha










Ricardo gave a small nod of his head and a smile before crossing the space to sit next to the boy he assumed to be Lanre - a darker skinned student sitting across from the boy who was speaking and the girl aside him. He took the empty space, giving the other students a smile but not going out of his way to speak really. He was aware of what he had walked in on after being barely acknowledged by whoever it was that was talking for the group. But feeling too awkward to turn down the offer and miss out on a chance to learn about his opponents he wasn't in a rush to leave. So what if it went bad? He wasn't a pushover and cared little for doing the 'right' thing. He would leave later if he really wanted to.

He really had been hoping to bump into professor Bubbles or Valencia while they were alone to talk about the competition. Ricardo put his name into the goblet in hopes of competing but he knew that Lisandro was a strong candidate and would be chosen. But if he wasn't to compete, why was he here? Ricardo wasn't good at doing research or thinking much outside of the box. It was odd that Cha-Cha chose him of all students to come along and help their school win. But it was no matter. There would be ample chances for them all to speak later without disrupting them meeting the other candidates.

"Depends on the card game." Ricardo offered when there was another lull. "I think truth or dare will be more fun later when we have more students to join in. Plus, I don't know that there's much we can do when half of this train is teachers."

He saw something move out of the corner of his eye and looked up, seeing a girl with long blonde hair and a green skirt walk by slowly. He raised a hand and leaned his head over to speak to her.

"Hey," He said, giving her a dimpled smile. "we have some room in here if you want somewhere to eat." He knew that he had not been there a minute and already he was allowing others to join but being the good hearted person he was he didn't want someone to feel left out. He knew what that was like. He was never the guy who rolled over when getting picked on. No. He was a fighter. He normally walked away the 'loser' but at least he could say he always defended himself and didn't learn to just accept bad manners. It got him in trouble a lot but it was always worth it. Maybe that's what he was doing then too. Subtly telling Vasu that he could take up just as much space as he tried to. That he didn't own the room.







 




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    I'm sorry I wasn't there when you were little. I would have iced the bruises on your back.

    - Written about Ramona​






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Lanre paid close attention to Vasu as he explained the origins of his interest with enchanted magical items, keen enough to have noticed the falter in the boy's words when 'parents' was quickly replaced with 'mother', but not fast enough to really understand why the correction was necessary. Not until they were later joined by a girl who radiated light, a girl named Naomi. Though he didn't ignore the two there and he gave her a smile, mentally Lanre was putting two and two together about what Vasu had said.

He didn't know what not having a father would be like. In his correction he didn't mention why or if his father was no longer in the picture, but still his heart hurt for the stranger despite how... weird he was. Not entirely nice, but not enough to be called mean either. He was lucky enough to not know a life without both of his parents and being in a large, loving family. He was aware that not everyone had parents or good relationships with them - his best friend didn't have a mom and her relationship was strained with her dad - but still, he always felt a little breathless when hearing about other students not having someone to comfort them or love them when it felt like the world was against them.

Owning a charms shop sounded really cool though. He had a feeling that Vasu was a good salesman there in Bidar. Or at least Lanre himself would have been an easy customer. He was already enthralled by the coin and would later be amazed by the movement of cards that Vasu performed for Naomi. Lanre had thought the wizarding world ought to have more prank shops. Once he had been made aware of what kind of pranks muggles would play on each other and they seemed dreadful, until Lanre realized that there wasn't a lot of variety for witches and wizards to mess with one another. Or maybe he wasn't creative enough, but that seemed like a stretch. It was more likely that he'd performed as many pranks as he could dream up.

He turned to see another boy standing at the door, and was quick to make room for him despite the air of indifference Vasu gave about the whole ordeal. Lanre offered the stranger a smile, thankful when he sat down and didn't seem nearly as abnormal as Vasu. His appearance was a little confusing - 'pretty boy' didn't seem to be overly confident in himself, but he wore an outfit as if he was trying to suggest to the world that he was some sort of bad boy. Then again, it was a very small interaction and Lanre wasn't always correct on his assumptions of people. He knew his friends like the back of his hand but everyone else was fair game. Lanre was a little naive and could sometimes be easily fooled.

When Vasu suggested a card game, Lanre nodded his head in agreement with Ricardo, perhaps a little too eagerly. Lanre was a little wimpy and had no desire to break the rules before they had even arrived to Ilvermorny, but more importantly he wanted to know if there was any crossover in wizarding games from around the world. He loved tabletop games and he didn't look it, but sometimes he could be a little competitive at them. He got the feeling that if Vasu and him got along at nothing else, they likely would at games. It was always a fun way to pass the time and made for more natural conversation without it being so forced.

"I'm with pretty boy." Lanre agreed, pausing to give Ricardo a smile to let him know the nickname was only teasing. It was just a placeholder until he knew the guy's real name - though the nickname wasn't exactly wrong. Was Lanre the only normal looking person on the train? Everyone was nicer looking. More cleaned up, more refined, more handsome or pretty. He turned back to Vasu and Naomi. "What do you think?"

He hoped to be able to talk to Naomi about her art later. Lanre loved to paint and sketch, but it was more of a hobby for him than anything. He did great in art classes and usually got bonus points in other classes when he had a chance to demonstrate his work and use it in his other assignments, but he didn't have time to do anything else with his skills. He spent a lot of time practicing and playing Quidditch. Did she draw people often? Was it something she enjoyed to do or was using it to challenge herself? Would she be open to making something together?

When another girl passed by in the hallway Lanre looked up and gave the girl a welcoming smile, or what he hoped was one instead of his growing nerves at the amount of people in the room. More people to interact with meant more chances for him to embarrass himself somehow. What if he blew his chances at making friends because he said or did something stupid that he thought was supposed to be funny? Suddenly that felt way more possible than it actually was.

ooc: i might be inactive tomorrow, but ill still try to get replies up and read other ones when i have time c:



/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */
© weldherwings.
 


  • Gavriel Sylvie
    Ilvermorny - Female - Half-Blood - Champion


    Gavy was more than happy munching on the remainder of her sandwich and a fruit roll-up as the two boys and Ramona spoke about photography and the arts. She had made sure to give her fellow Ilvermorny classmate a bubbly wave and smile when she entered, her mouth having been full at the time. Now that she was finished though she bounced to her feet and tiptoed around Raph’s legs to crouch closer to Ramona and examine her camera. “Ramona, darling, I had no idea you were so artistic.” She beamed with excitement glistening in her gaze as her eyes flashed electric blue. ‘Darling’ was a word that easily fell from Gavy’s lips when she was being friendly and showing genuine warmth towards others so unless directly asked to stop she used it often for people she liked. If she were to call someone ‘dearie’ however, well that meant the young blonde was likely not a fan of whoever the name was directed towards.

    As she crouched close and examined the camera she reached a hand up as though she were going to touch it but stopped before her fingertips ever made contact with the device. Her smile was still bright but there was a subtle sadness to her features that she did her best to hide though bits of dull grey began to work their way into her hair. “My mom used to love photography, at least according to my sister she did.” She admitted with a blink as she pushed the sadness away and did her best to bring back the vibrant excitement that had been coursing through her body a moment ago. “It is really nice to see others appreciate it as well.” She added and tucked her hair behind her ear as she took a seat on the ground with her legs crossed so she could still get a good glance a the camera when she wanted. She had never really known her mother, only the monsters who birthed her. Gavy wasn’t sure about how her mother would have reacted to her abilities but part of her hoped it would have been with more love than her grandparents, though deep down part of her was glad she never had to find out.

    “Maybe you’ll be the best of us at documenting this exciting new adventure?” Gavy suggested with a bright smile as she looked up at Ramona. “I know you said you preferred shooting landscapes but maybe, if you want, we could kick the year off with a group photo of the cabin crew? I mean with whatever happens it would be nice to have this moment to look back on.” She suggested and looked around at the others before returning her gaze to Ramona. “It is absolutely up to you though since it is your camera.” She added, not wanting to seem like she was demanding anything from her classmate.

    From where she sat on the floor of the cabin she could still easily see everyone which was nice. Her gaze fell on Raph and she cocked her head to the side. “Do you play Quidditch?” She asked after a moment. “I remember watching Beauxbaton take the International Cup between schools last year. Was that you?” She asked as she thought about it and felt almost as though she could recall his face among the media covering the event.



    Mentions: Cosmo pearjuice pearjuice Raph captaindanger captaindanger Kiara WanderLust. WanderLust. Ramona irregular-neptune irregular-neptune



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Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “the Friendly Demon” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens​

Cha-Cha looked at Clara with amusement when she declared all of her classes at Durmstrang to be easy, thinking this a bold statement that might incur the ire of some of her professors. But he didn’t say as much, as the strange girl seemed to be on a roll, expounding on her passions for academic study. From her edgy demeanor, Cha-Cha got the impression that this was something she rarely talked about, and if he weren’t a complete stranger, she wouldn’t bestow half of this personal information upon him. Dark Arts, he thought wryly, surprised that such a course would even be offered at Durmstrang. How taboo… and par for the course, he thought. Although he’d only been conversing with Clara for a handful of minutes, he sensed that she would be drawn to controversial, forbidden things. As Clara rattled off the subjects of each of her journals, a fleeting question about how Muggle and wizard anatomy could possibly be different crossed Cha-Cha’s mind, but it didn’t seem important enough to interrupt Clara. Interest flickered up within him yet again when Clara implied that she had prepared klepon before, a very indigenously Southeast Asian confection. This girl had more faces than a pair of dice, that was for sure.
Her nervousness from earlier had fallen away like a cloak she wore against the weather. Her voice was fast and upbeat, and when she finally took a breath, she was practically radiating self-satisfaction with her spiel. So she did like to talk about herself… she just needed a velvet glove to finesse the information out of her. A skill that Cha-Cha had in spades, after having worked as a therapist for three years and dabbled in espionage for another two whilst working toward a sentence reduction in prison. He was in the midst of putting together all of which he knew about this girl, like a burglar aligning the teeth on a lock until it clicked, when one of Clara’s words caught him off guard. Cha-Cha was unsure what exactly the girl had glimpsed in his face, but her own changed in response, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Some would call Legilimency a Dark Art, you know,” he said evenly, evasively, covering for his slip. She seemed to have mistaken Cha-Cha’s reply for scorn, because then she was rifling through her purse, as if she had a point to prove and condemning evidence to show him.
She produced a leatherbound journal in forest green. Its yellowed pages turned with leafy, crisp sounds, as if it were an old tome. When Cha-Cha glanced down, he was surprised to find that the words there were blurs of gibberish, as if he were gazing at a made-up language after a few too many drinks, his eyes playing tricks on him. Optical illusions fascinated him, and he was just about to ask about the nature of this enchantment, when Clara snapped the journal closed. She thrust a stapled-together packet of loose leaf papers that had been buried within its pages at him. Cha-Cha was almost disappointed to see that these were perfectly legible, appearing in plain English.
He almost didn’t catch it at first, because he wrote all of his journal papers in Indonesian for someone else to translate into foreign languages, but there was something uncanny and familiar about the handwriting on the front paper. Tiny, messy penmanship, with a distinct backslant. Cha-Cha scanned the title of the article: “Emotional intelligence and its relationship to stress management.” His heart plummeted into his stomach. It was his newest scholarly article, reporting the methodology and results of his latest study conducted at Castelobruxo, using students in need of extra credit as subjects. It’d only been published two months ago, in June. Cha-Cha was astonished that anyone would have had their hands on something that recent, especially when he was regarded as something of a laughingstock among the scientific-magical community. No one wanted to read the ramblings of a demented former Dark wizard who’d gone on a killing spree in the name of social justice.
Fear seemed to walk up behind him and press a blade to his spine. His eyes flashed up to Clara, wondering if she had somehow figured him out and pretending to venerate his work was a cruel joke she was playing on him. What had started as a billowing thundercloud of unease was becoming sharper, taking on distinct edges. It was a feeling like he was being hunted. Fortunately, Clara spared him from having to respond; she was going on and on about what a genius the author of the article was, painting him as some kind of tragic figure. Cha-Cha, on the verge of panic, had started breathing a little harder, but she seemed oblivious. Was this a set-up? How did this girl have his latest article in her possession, marked-up with highlighter and scribbled questions like a textbook, yet failed to recognize his face? Physically, Cha-Cha looked remarkably the same as he did ten years ago, when he’d been serving time for the crimes that she alluded to and news of his arrest had headlined on every front page. Pleaseshutuppleaseshutuppleaseshutup, he prayed silently, fighting the impulse to rummage through her brain for Broca’s area—responsible for speech—and deactivate it, so that only nonsense would fall from her lips.
Contrary to this girl’s understanding, he hadn’t been some kind of Robin Hood who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Cha-Cha had used his abilities for evil, wrapping his patients around his finger until they would do anything for him, even sacrifice their lives and murder if he told them so. He’d used the promise of salvation as a tool to fulfill his murderous agenda, killing high-ranking governmental figures who sought to maintain pureblood supremacy and limit Muggle-borns’ access to the Wizarding World. A noble goal, perhaps, but Cha-Cha had used puppets to attain it, divesting them of their autonomy. Hearing this girl’s love affair with his crimes felt like a hand had wrapped itself around his throat, tightening with each of her words. Worshiping him. Just like the patients whom he’d led to their deaths. Sins for which he could never fully atone as long as he lived. Clara was causing him pain, yet it was pain that Cha-Cha knew he deserved, because he’d done all of those awful things he’d been accused of knowingly and maliciously. He’d lost his right to a victim card years ago.
Clara at some point had moved to ambiguously stand beside him, yet kept her distance. She tried showing him another article, but Cha-Cha doggedly kept his eyes fixed on the one in his hand, unwilling to reveal what lurked in their depths to her. He didn’t push his hair back from his face when the wind blew it in that direction. He was retreating into himself, grateful that Clara was too invested in their one-sided conversation to spot it. Finally, abruptly, she broke off, as if having realized she’d lost herself while talking. It was a common behavior people exhibited around Cha-Cha; his serene aura caused guards to drop and tongues to wag. He felt the warmth of her gaze without looking at her, aware that she was expecting some kind of reply. But Cha-Cha had no personal thoughts or opinions to offer her. So instead, he cleared his throat and spouted facts instead.
“In response to your question here”—he indicated the flirty-pink ink smudged in between paragraphs of the article he held—“severe or extensive exposure to stress has the capacity to erode the cells of the hippocampus, which is responsible for memory. Specifically its role is to transfer short-term memories to long-term storage in the brain, and in extreme cases, such brains may exhibit mild short-term memory loss. It’s not uncommon for trauma patients to have shrunken hippocampuses compared to the general population, which in turn shrinks overall brain volume. Decreased surface area means that fewer neurons are present to maintain the brain’s functions, emotional regulation and intelligence among them. So yes, in answer to your question, higher rates of stress have the power to decrease a person’s original emotional intelligence and increase the individual’s risk of mental disorder. Especially when there’s a genetic predisposition. See the stress dialysis model for reference.” He handed the paper back to her woodenly, meeting her eyes at last. “At least in my humble opinion.”
Clara’s features had gradually transformed into an expression of awe the longer that Cha-Cha’s discourse on the brain’s functions had run until she was gaping at him openly. Uncomfortable with the attention and not knowing what to do with his empty hands, he fiddled with one of the thick rose-gold bracelets on his wrists. The sky was darkening into a gloomy pall, and Cha-Cha suddenly felt very cold standing outside on the caboose of the train, wearing a thin t-shirt. Sensing that she was about to fire off a question—or worse, put two and two together and make the connection to the author of the article—he said abruptly, “I have to go now.” Cha-Cha invented an excuse on the spot. “My students are in need of supervision; I must ensure that they’re not causing too much ruckus on the train,” he lied, maintaining a poker face that was just a little too good not to be fishy. Lisandro was a nervous, docile thing that often needed to be told exactly what to do and how for him to take any independent action of his own, and Ricardo, while occasionally prone to ruffling feathers, was sensible enough not to do it with total strangers on the night of the Opening Ceremony. At least Cha-Cha hoped. He wasn’t about to go find out, either, because right now he had his own needs to attend to.
“Nice meeting you, Clara. You’ll get far in the tournament, I can tell.” His voice was all broken glass and thorns. But a ghost of a smile crept onto his lips for the first time since Clara had unearthed that infernal article that Cha-Cha was sincerely beginning to regret writing. “You can return the jacket to me sometime after the Opening Ceremony. I’ll be around.” He turned to go, pretended not to hear the words she called after him, and slipped out of the caboose. Telling himself that the danger was averted—for now—and this was not the time and place to have an anxiety attack. I can’t do this, Cha-Cha thought, having frozen up the first time that a student almost recognized him, confronted him with the past that slithered up on him like a long shadow along grass. He wasn’t the same unassuming yet lion-hearted student who had won his own Triwizard Tournament fifteen years ago. Now Cha-Cha felt more akin to a rabbit, shaking and trembling in the blistering cold.
But I have to. He reminded himself of the three students who were depending on him, of the fake-ass show of a master magician and mind-reader he put on for them every day in class, cool and assured because he knew everything well in advance and had already played five moves ahead. He couldn’t crumble with them in his charge, looking to him for strategies and advice, for mentorship and an edge in the competition. And even more than that, he’d committed himself to Lorena, the Castelobruxo headmistress, without whom Cha-Cha would likely still be in Azkaban to this day. Cha-Cha was a killer and a manipulator, but he delivered on his promises.
The instant warmth of the train compartment was intoxicating. Cha-Cha flexed his fingers, which had grown stiff in the cold. But he didn’t linger out of fear that Clara might chase after him and devolve into another fangirling tangent. Even without looking, he sensed the unguarded consciousnesses of four individuals in the compartment. Vasu Saini was holding court, fanning a deck of cards in an elegant circle and slurring his words somewhat less than when Cha-Cha had initially encountered him. Ricky was among the students gathered in two facing seats. His gaze immediately jumped to Cha-Cha upon entry.
But before they could exchange greetings, Vasu spun in his seat, clutching the back of it for balance as he knelt precariously. His eyes slitted to the edges of coins upon recognizing Cha-Cha. “Hey man, did you come back for round two? Or are you gonna run away like a loser again? ‘Cuz I’m not done with you yet.”
Cha-Cha, already feeling snappish and not in the mood to be tested, retaliated with: “Dasar anjing kotor!” Which was absolutely not for polite conversation, but he trusted that none of the four assembled students were Indonesian speakers. A breath later he said, very pleasantly, “Hello, Ricky.” He held up one hand in a friendly wave but not did not stop for conversation, marching swiftly into the next compartment. Where he neglected to notice that someone was lingering in front of the door, as if debating whether or not to enter the compartment with the four students playing cards.
Cha-Cha stopped nimbly, suddenly, going up onto his toes to keep from taking another step and colliding with her. She was a pretty blond girl wearing a pale cardigan over a crop top and fern-green plaid skirt, the sign of the cross dangling on a loose silver chain. The girl was moderately tall, perhaps within an inch of Cha-Cha’s height if he were wearing flat-footed shoes. She looked startled by his arrival, blinking large blue doll’s eyes at him. “Hi there! Sorry for almost bulldozing you,” he said good-naturedly, his characteristic smile returning to him. “Are you all right? I hope I didn’t startle you too much.”
 
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SASHA - COMMENTATOR
Sasha was about to comment on the offer extended to her by the
curly haired boy when she felt someone standing very closely to
her. She looked up and was met with a pair of brown eyes attached
to a body that was trying but struggling to not collide with her on
accident. She politely took a step back, fearing that the poor guy
would fall onto her in his rush away from wherever he had come from.

"No worries." She replied with a smile, her cheeks coated bubblegum
from the sudden close proximity that had been shared between them.
Sasha was very nice but it wasn't common for people to be so close to
her physically. She was not used to it. "Are you alright? Am I blocking
you from going inside?"

She wasn't sure how or if he would fit in the compartment. Every single
one she had attempted to find a familiar face in was packed to the brim
with students or held teachers inside. The one she was standing in front
of, debating on skipping on, held a lot of students and the group was so
loud that she feared her voice would be drowned out entirely from all
the conversation. It was good to know that students were making
friends and getting along with one another, she just wished that she
was outgoing enough to include herself.

There was to be a ceremony once they got to Ilvermorny and she knew
if she didn't get a chance to catch anyones names here on the bus that
there would be plenty of time before they were off to bed to mingle.
At least she would catch some of the students names from the goblet
when the champions were listed. She wondered if the person besides
her would be a champion or a secondary.
interactions: open

© pasta
 







Raphael

Beauxbatons Champion







Mood:


Hungry






Location:


Train






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Cosmo, Gavy, Ramona Kiara










Raphael became attentive as Gavy spoke fondly of her mother and sister. Knowing that he was sometimes rude without meaning to be he chose to not voice his thoughts on the matter. He knew that for those who had a strong sense of family that the loss or absence of someone was a big deal. It didn't matter if they knew the person or not. Seeing someone they did know and love mourn the loss of someone that was supposed to be important to them too was just as tricky.

He looked up to the girl on the other side of him curiously when he heard Quidditch mentioned. He had assumed she was talking to him but despite it being highly probable that everyone on the train played the sport his guess had been correct. Really it was one of the only reasons people would talk to him if it wasn't to argue. He was an overly eager player and Gavy was right. It had been him at the competition in question.

"It was!" He beamed proudly and shook his head 'yes'. "I was the beater. I still am one. I'm kinda surprised they still let me play.." He admitted with a small laugh. "I usually break more than two bats when I play."

This was the truth. It was not unusual for bats to be broken by their users because the Bludgers could be aggressive and required a lot of strength to pull off teammates and send towards the opposing team. Raphael broke more bats than what most thought necessary for the game. There was a bat count for his name at Beauxbaton because of how often it happened. At first it was embarrassing but over time he grew to enjoy the attention that came from it. From his classmates it was funny but staff found it annoying and expensive to need to replace all of his bats. The competition Gavy had brought up was the only game where he didn't break at least three and still held the record for least amount of Quidditch tools destroyed. His highest was seven but Raphael swore up and down that some of the bats the school had handed him in a hurry were two swings away from crumbling in his hands before they'd been given to him.

"Does anyone else here play?" He included the whole group on the question but remained mostly focused on Gavy.







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Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Bored






Location:


Train






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Lanre, Naomi, Vasu, Cha-Cha and Sasha










Ricardo looked up and noticed his professor lingering outside of the door. He offered the man a smile only to be startled out of it by the words exchanged between the boy passing out a deck of cards and his teacher. His confusion was clear with his eyebrows raised and a startled look causing his mouth to drop partially open. What was that about? He wondered. Questions remained unasked about Cha-Cha's previous whereabouts and if he had seen Lisandro because a blur of black and white shifted by the door that pulled his attention over to it. But when he looked again only a blink later, the figure was gone. It must have been a figment of his imagination. Or he was losing it. Both were equally possible.

"Were you outside?" He asked bluntly. He turned back to face Cha-Cha and the quiet blonde girl. "Why?"

In comparison to Raphael, Ricky was not oblivious in nature. He didn't get every single memo that should have been clear as day to him but he did pick up on a little more. Not to the extent that a lot of people did though. But he knew that events like these weren't fun right away for his favorite professor. It was bad enough that he was traveling and being watched closely. He would be blamed for if anything at all went wrong regardless of his involvement and Ricardo doubted that he would be allowed to visit any family if they weren't welcome to the schools they were scheduled to stay at. He didn't know if Cha-Cha had family but everyone came from someone. He probably just went to get some fresh air or something.







 




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  • /* ------ sticky note letter ------ */
    You are worth finding. Worth knowing. Worth loving. You and all your one million layers. I know you think yourself to be full of poems and rage but you are more than your anger. I miss the girl who was really happy.

    - Your big bro​






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Clara's hues of blue followed the finger Cha-Cha extended to something on one of her papers, her eyes squinting to quickly reread what it was that he had pointed out. Her vision sprung back up to him as he explained the answer to one of the many questions she had written down. Though she had not clocked his identity yet, she could tell that something in his answer was mechanical. Something had shifted between his demeanor minutes ago to then. Her smile faltered despite the amazement she felt at him answering her question so quickly, the light in her eyes not yet dim but instead brewing with more questions. Like why was he suddenly in a rush to leave? Hadn't he been offering her treats a few minutes ago?

The easiest answer was that this guy just didn't have the stomach to talk about a killer. That made the most sense and required the least amount of thought, but it didn't feel right. He was too off-putting and jarring to want to flee from her solely because she followed his discoveries. Then again, Cosmo had had the same reaction. But it wasn't like she agreed with what he'd done - Clara was used to violence but she didn't like it. She always had to look away when someone was hurt - even if she was the one inflicting it. Sure, she had gotten better at masking it by feigning indifference or amusement to one in distress; that was entirely different than enjoying it. It was a survival tactic she had to learn at a young age. So if it wasn't about the man, what was it?

"O - okay, uh, bye?" She blinked, only then realizing that Cha-Cha was already stepping through the open door to go back inside the train. Despite her best efforts to stammer out some sort of way to convince him to stay a minute longer, it was lost in the harsh winds tousling her hair around, her voice entirely drowned out. Not that it mattered, he was already inside. Thankfully she had enough sense to grip her papers a little tighter and made fast work of neatly putting everything away. Clara was very organized, almost to an annoying degree, but the routines that came with putting her stuff in her bag was done in fluid motions.

That was weird. She surmised to herself mentally, the thoughts quickly turning bitter. That's got to be a record. What was that, three minutes, and I sent him running in the opposite direction just from being me?

Whatever. I'm amazing. Everyone loves me. His loss, really.

With that, Clara did her best to rid the weird encounter out of her mind. She felt awkward still wearing his jacket, but it didn't make her any less thankful that she had allowed him to keep it. She had no desire to return inside, especially after Cha-Cha had made it clear he wanted little else to do with her, so it appeared she would be remaning outside until they arrived at Ilvermorny. That was well with her - the small amount of noise she had heard when her aquantiance made his quick getaway was enought to know that Cosmo indeed make friends. He was going to be insufferable the rest of the night so it was best if she kept her distance from him. She had no desire to be the butt of all of his jokes no matter how good of a sport she knew she could pretend to be.

Clara pulled her wand out of her purse again, this time casting a spell on the jacket - it would only work for about thirty minutes, but she didn't want the jacket to become stained or dirtied from her being outside. After she did that, she tucked her wand neatly into her purse once more before sitting down on the ground, making herself comforable. Her back leaned against the wall of the train, her head turned and looking out at the countryside that the train was chugging along.

The Winter family traveled a lot, but never anywhere for pleasure. It was all work trips or obligations that they left Upland for anywhere else. The closest she had been to going anywhere for fun was the country clubs, but she had eventually been soft banned from going. It wasn't like she had much interest in going after fighting with Ricky and Vasu vanishing like a ghost. No doubt because of their families not liking the trouble they stirred up together. A smile crept onto Clara's face as she fondly recalled the time that she and Vasu had made his grandmother so angry her face turned red from trying to contain her frustrations. The smile didn't last long and fell shortly thereafter.

She should have cared more about having accidentally scared away someone so easy on the eyes and polite, but all she cared to focus on was how easily the answer to one of her questions came to him. He had said he was a teacher, so it made sense that his response was easily digestible for her. But how had he answered it so quickly? Hell, Clara had been so excited that she didn't register that he likely knew one of her old best friends until well after their conversation ended. It was plausible that he had tuned out her ramblings in favor of reading what she had handed him, but he wouldn't have conjured the right answer so quickly unless he had some sort of background in the field.

Two theories came to mind, both of which made Clara's heart to nosedive into the pits of her stomach.

One, the crazier one, was that Cha-Cha was short for Chahaya and she'd somehow accidentally offended a serial killer. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd been put on a hit list, but seeing as she tried to not make a habit of making enemies in high places, she sincerely hoped that was not the case. Had she known ahead of time she was speaking to someone who killed she wouldn't have shown her interest in his findings in such a way. She believed in prison reform and that bad people could change but she didn't want to contribute to a killer's massive ego. Clara was familiar with the role mental health played in his crimes; even so, killing people was not justified for what his end goals were.

The other theory wasn't much better; that Cha-Cha was a victim to one of Chahaya's crimes, and somehow affected personally by them. Maybe he knew someone who had been killed or knew an old patient of his from his therapy practice? Both of these were under the assumptions that Cha-Cha was not born and raised in Brazil - at the very least, his parents or grandparents were not from there because he had made an Indonesian treat for everyone. This theory was just as bad if not worse to Clara because it meant she may have come across as idollizing the man who brought Cha-Cha so much harm. While she normally cared little for strangers, even she had to admit that that was one hell of a way to disturb someone. She was more inclined to think Cha-Cha was Chahaya based on the nickname alone, but that would be even more offensive if she approached him under that assumption. Then again, killers were always stupidly attractive and now that he wasn't face to face with her, she could admit in her solitude that he was rather okay looking.

Either way, it meant she had to confront him next time she saw him and she was not looking forward to it.

Clara was looking forward to the investigative work she was about to spend the evening doing though. She was good at getting information out of people that they didn't want to willingly give or never intended to share. She was not above flirting or picking arguments to get what she wanted - the same went for groveling, but that was to be saved as a last ditch attempt if nothing else worked. It was nice work to keep her busy while Cosmo got to bask in his glory, and technically the information she was looking for could be vital to his success if she found a way to make it seem so before her twin got word of what she was up to. Her gut told her that theory one was the correct one, but she had to be sure.



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© weldherwings.
 
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Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
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Unable to resist a jab when the opening for one presented itself, Vasu gave Pretty Boy a wolfish smile and said, “What, scared of getting caught by the profs? Maybe that’s half the fun of the dares. Or you could just be a wimp and choose truth every time if you’re so afraid.” He separated the deck of cards into two halves and riffled and bridged them together with a crisp sound in just his hands, not needing a table for support because there wasn’t one. Which they would indeed need for a proper card game, or at least something to imitate the function of a table. “But I have no qualm with playing cards either. Is everyone properly settled?” His question garnered one nod and two quizzical looks, but when no one objected, Vasu gathered the deck into one hand and withdrew his wand with the other. He uttered a quick spell, and no visible changes to the compartment occurred. However, the air between the benches had solidified so that cards placed on it would meet an invisible barrier to keep them from falling to the floor. He’d placed the barrier at a sensibly low height, so that ones placed facedown could not be read just by casually leaning back in one’s seat, as the “table” had no solid underside to prevent someone from peering up at the cards from below.
“Given the first stop of our journey, I think an American card game is appropriate. Are you guys familiar with spades?” Vasu performed several overhand shuffles, the cards deftly falling between his fingers with the gentle susurrus of wind blowing through grass, and then extended it for Lanre to cut. Vasu was pleased that the Hogwarts boy knew exactly what to do when offered the deck and that he didn’t have to explain a custom as simple as cutting, which wasn’t uncommon among novice card players. “It’s a trick-taking game like hearts, if you guys know that one. Your partner is the person sitting across from you—in this case, a diagonal—and you work together with them to make your bet. Positive points are scored for making whatever you bet times ten, negative points for missing it.”
Vasu had just begun to deal the cards with swift one-handed flicks of his thumb, when a face appeared at the window to the compartment. Soft, pale features half-hidden by flowing blond waves. It was a face he recognized: Sasha Golubev, Quidditch commentator at Koldovstoretz. She was in the same year as him, but aside from some shared classes where she chewed her pencil and said almost nothing at all, he didn’t know her that well. She was in the Blue Court, but as one who didn’t play Quidditch, he didn’t consider her a rival. Sasha usually made him look good, gushing when he made a daring save, and that was enough for Vasu to think well of her.
Seeing Vasu’s gaze flash over his shoulder, Pretty Boy turned in his seat to regard the girl who was gazing forlornly into the compartment, as if wanting to join but unsure that she would be accepted. Without consulting anyone else, Pretty Boy beckoned for her to join them, calling loudly enough that there was half a chance Sasha might hear him through the thick glass. “She can sit in here, but spades is a four-player game. So she can’t play with us,” Vasu said bluntly. “Unless one of you is so abhorrently bad at the game that you need replacing. You’re my partner, Pretty Boy, so don’t let it be you.” He’d finished dealing at this point, so that a hand of thirteen facedown cards sat before each player. Vasu collected his hand and immediately started sorting, his eyes scanning for either lots of spades and high values or very few. “The first thing we do is bet. Usually the dealer bets last, and betting last is advantageous, but I don’t mind betting first to show you guys how it’s done. Keep in mind that there’s thirteen tricks or books played per hand, so all of our combined bets should add up close to thirteen. The formula I like to employ is aces plus kings plus spades minus two, which will almost always get you within one of your bet.”
Vasu was just tipsy enough that he felt a giddy rush of excitement for a game with unknown players, for the forthcoming battle of wits. And he played best when he was slightly drunk, not enough to make stupid mistakes, but enough that his focus was honed and he could take calculated risks while still remembering what had already been played—and what hadn’t. He did a quick survey of his hand while organizing the cards by suit, and while he was practiced enough at spades that bets came to him automatically except for the most statistically improbable of hands, this one gave him pause: There was a high volume of spades topped off by the ace—which, being the highest card, was a guaranteed book—but most of them were low numbers. He had an ace of hearts and a king of diamonds, the latter of which likely wouldn’t take because it would be trumped by the ace of diamonds. But with the king being his only card in the suit, it created an opening to play his low spades sooner, and take those tricks. So after a moment’s silence, Vasu declared, “Five.”
He’d only just announced his bet to the table when there came a squeak of metal from behind him. Having been somewhat drunk earlier, Vasu hadn’t been paying attention to everyone who’d exited onto the caboose, but he knew that one particular person had yet to return, and even before he looked, he had a good idea of who had reentered the compartment. Perhaps it was from the aroma of antique things and eras gone by that filled the room. Sweet, dark, maybe just a little bit spicy. Vasu set his cards facedown on the table. With a baleful gaze, he knelt in his seat and turned, his eyes immediately connecting with those of the long-haired Castelobruxo wizard. The fanged demon who had somehow known Vasu’s name without being told. It made Vasu wonder what other information about himself had been leaked, and why this boy had the special privilege of knowing his opponents’ identities ahead of time. Over the summer, Vasu had tried his damnedest to pump Professor Vinogradov for at least the names of the students from the other schools so that he could do his homework, but he’d gotten nowhere. It infuriated him that there was a more competent cheater in the mix, because with his lucky coin to tell him the success of any one strategy, losing was not in Vasu’s nature.
Vasu’s better judgment told him that perhaps it was unwise to tip off the other students in the compartment to his ongoing feud with the newcomer. But the Castelobruxo competitor had belittled him, telling Vasu that he was too drunk for sensible conversation and that he should sit down. As if getting drunk hadn’t been Vasu’s goal in the first place. No shit he’d been drunk, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his liquor like an adult. He’d made Vasu feel weak and childish. And Vasu would repay the favor. Vasu noticed the long-haired wizard was missing the white leather jacket he’d been wearing earlier. What, did a bird shit on him while he was outside? Vasu thought hopefully. His blood singing with a malicious desire to publicly prove his superiority, he challenged the guy. “Hey man, did you come back for round two? Or are you gonna run away like a loser again? ‘Cuz I’m not done with you yet.” His words were sharp and clipped, the way a rifle fires.
The Castelobruxo wizard’s hair was wild and disheveled, his t-shirt a mess of black wrinkles, whipped into disarray by the wind. As he beelined to the opposite door of the compartment, he barely spared Vasu a glance. But he snapped something, loud and fast, in a foreign language. From its disyllabic staccato and his looks, maybe it was Filipino. However, it was no doubt a curse. The corner of Vasu’s mouth slanted into a satisfied smile; his taunting had elicited more of a reaction than he’d expected. With mind-boggling elasticity, the demon’s face morphed into a saccharine smile as he greeted Pretty Boy—whose name was apparently Ricky; did they know each other because they were both Castelobruxo students?—but he didn’t stop to chat as he strode through the compartment. Clearly he was on a mission. Vasu watched with amusement as, in his haste, the long-haired wizard opened the door to the next car and almost slammed head first into Sasha, who was still hesitating behind the door.
He does that a lot, Vasu noted with dark glee, happy to see that Mr. Know-It-All with wandless and nonverbal magic at his fingertips had a flaw. Two out of two encounters he’d run into someone else or almost had, first Vasu and then Sasha. Or maybe he just has a vendetta against Koldovstoretz students, Vasu thought facetiously. To his annoyance, the guy played it off coolly, telling Sasha it was his bad and holding the door open for her. With his other hand he made a sweeping gesture into the compartment and flashed another of those nauseating smiles that a chick might have found inviting. Sasha’s cheeks were stained cherry red, but she accepted his invitation, her eyes flicking to the ground as she brushed past him into the compartment occupied by Vasu and company. Vasu’s back teeth snapped together. The compartment was getting too crowded for his liking. Crawling with unwanted guests.
The Castelobruxo wizard paused on the threshold as if about to take off again, when a question from Ricky drew him back in. Dammit Ricky! Don’t give the riffraff a reason to stay, Vasu thought, glaring a silent warning at his adversary. But it went either unnoticed or ignored, because the long-haired boy took a step closer to the group gathered in the two benches so that he was in comfy conversational range. Without his slick leather jacket, he struck Vasu as scrawny and unimpressive and badly in need of a haircut.
“Because you weren’t out there, Ricky, you fucking menace,” the demon replied fondly, as if he and Ricky were bros who traded insults as terms of endearment on a regular basis. “If you’ve nothing to do after the Opening Ceremony, my door is always open for a Smash rematch. I brought my Switch and PS4 with me so we won’t get rusty.”
Ew, Muggle nerds, Vasu thought with an internal roll of his eyes. It was bad enough that Muggles got hooked on that video game stuff when the rest of the world and face-to-face socialization existed, but for wizards to do so? When magic opened limitless possibilities, you elected to spend your free time in front of a screen? How frivolous. Wanting to knock Ricky’s insufferable friend down another peg, Vasu piped up, “That’s great and all, but do you play any real games?”
I play games with people all the time, Vasu. An eerie whisper like a cold wind passing through cemetery trees swept into Vasu’s mind. The hair on his arms raised. But the words lacked a voice, and the Castelobruxo wizard’s mouth hadn’t moved. Vasu chalked it up to him having been slightly intimidated by this guy at the end of their initial encounter, when he’d invoked Vasu’s name without introduction. Bastard thought he was so clever, huh? Well, Vasu refused to be scared of a klutz who’d almost missed the train and mowed down a girl.
Instead, raven-black eyes, sharp and keen as a razor’s gleaming edge, fell on Vasu. The demon shrugged and propped a hand on one hip. “I don’t know. What do you consider a real game?”
The question was asked innocently enough, but Vasu imagined a patronizing lean on the words you consider, as if Vasu’s opinion wasn’t an objective one and mattered little in the grand scheme of things. “Wizard’s chess, pocket billiards, Quidditch. Anything with cards,” Vasu answered decisively. “Stuff that has a modicum of strategy to it. Skill, too.”
“Well, you shouldn’t ignore the considerable component of luck in card games,” the demon countered in that haughty voice again. “Someone who’s never played poker before can win big at the casino if they’re holding pocket aces. But to answer your question, I know a few card games. Basic ones.”
Vasu lifted his chin. “Then let’s play a game. Just you and me.”
“Um.” The demon blinked, seeming mystified. “I have places to be and things to do.”
“Despite the pressing importance of things, this game will be quick. One hand, winner take all. And then in five minutes you can get back to your things.”
The Castelobruxo wizard raked a hand through his hair. “Why are you pushing this?”
“Why are you pushing against it? Just one hand.”
“Will you find someone else to annoy for the rest of the evening if I play?”
Vasu smiled, charmed that he had gotten his way. “I won’t say boo to you during the Opening Ceremony.”
“Music to my ears.” The long-haired boy considered the four other faces in the cabin, as if self-conscious to be seen playing cards with the likes of Vasu Saini. He shifted his stance so that one arm was wrapped protectively around himself, the other hand supporting his chin. “Fine then,” he sighed. “Deal the cards.”
But Vasu waited for no one’s cue, especially not an opp’s. He was already opening another deck of cards so as to not disturb the hand of spades that had already been dealt. This one had a theme of snakes, each card a purple-and-green whirl of sinuous shapes, triangular heads, and forked tongues. It was an appropriate selection. As a Parselmouth, conversing with the Castelobruxo competitor rather reminded him of talking to a snake.
“Do you know how to play gin?” Vasu asked, cutting the cards in one hand.
“No, but—”
“Then allow me to explain the rules. In gin, the objective is to get all ten cards matching, either in suited straights or three numbers of a kind, and—”
“I don’t need you to explain the rules. I’ll learn by your shining example, because you’re the best, right?”
“You learn fast,” Vasu growled, his mouth dipping into a scowl. He knew that the words were anything but a compliment. “Hopefully you learn the game half as fast.” He extended a hand with the deck of cards for cutting. The jade-and-onyx engagement ring on his third finger caught the light and glistened white.
The demon approached the edge of the invisible table. Ricky moved over to give him space to sit in the increasingly crowded booth, but his hospitality was waved off. “I’ll stand,” said his classmate. Had the other Castelobruxo competitor still had his jacket, he and Ricky would have resembled negative images of one another: One with a white leather jacket, the other black leather. Black shirt underneath, white shirt. Dark hair, fair hair. “I won’t be here very long, anyway.” And then, looking Vasu dead in the eye, his opponent tapped the deck, declining his cut.
In gambling rings, tapping the deck was a bold and borderline disrespectful gesture. The dealer offered a player to cut the deck as a way of keeping him honest; any cards that the dealer may have stacked in advantageous locations were inevitably shifted around at random, thereby blowing his edge. Tapping the deck, leaving the cards in the exact arrangement in which they’d been presented, was a player’s way of saying, Do your worst. You can cheat all you want, and I’ll still win.
Vasu glared thunderclouds at his opponent, not liking how he stood over the table while Vasu was seated. He’d asked who the Castelobruxo wizard was once already and received a non-answer. So he tried a slightly different question. “What’s your name?”
“Cha-Cha.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Real enough. Are we playing cards or twenty questions? I only agreed to one game, so choose wisely.”
“Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are, Cha-Cha?”
“Twenty questions it is, I see.” Cha-Cha smiled cleverly. “And no, the words they typically use are charming, smart, or dashingly handsome.”
Vasu noticed the way that Sasha stood in a corner of the compartment as if trying to make herself invisible, but occasionally darted little surreptitious glances up at Cha-Cha while his back was to her. It sickened Vasu to his stomach to find that he somehow believed Cha-Cha. To spare himself from replying, he dealt the snake cards into two facedown piles of ten each, and then turned the top card of the deck over. “If you don’t need the rules explained to you, then would you like to go first? I dealt, after all,” Vasu said, outwardly calm yet waiting for Cha-Cha to admit he didn’t know what to do like an overconfident buffoon.
“How kind of you!” Cha-Cha gushed, as if Vasu had offered to lift a heavy object for him. “Don’t mind if I do.” He snatched the turned-over card, which was the five of spades. To Vasu’s great annoyance, because that five would have made a three of a kind for him. Since there were already two fives in Vasu’s hand and a third had been picked up, it was statistically improbable that Cha-Cha was hanging onto the last one. So he was likely going for a straight of spades. Assuming he was applying any strategy at all to a game he ostensibly didn’t know how to play. But as is custom in gin, he discarded to end his turn. The jack of clubs.
Vasu scanned his hand. With his chance at three fives likely blown, he also had a pair of twos, tens, queens, along with a three of diamonds and jack of diamonds, each of which could possibly create a straight, too. But while having multiple options for a card meant a higher likelihood of creating a set, the tradeoff was that the card could only be used in one set. A two of diamonds couldn’t be used in both a three of a kind and a straight. So Vasu would have to choose right. And to get all ten cards matching, one set would have to contain four cards. The optimal path was if Vasu got the four of diamonds, considering that was the only missing card in his two-through-five straight.
Deciding that was his goal from the outset, and trusting his hunch that Cha-Cha was using the five of spades in a straight, Vasu picked up the jack of clubs to potentially pair with his other jack or queen of clubs. Then discarded his unneeded five of clubs to end his turn. And to his horror, Cha-Cha picked that up too. Vasu had been wrong. Which very likely meant his opponent had at least one complete set by turn two.
The game proceeded as such. On his next draw Vasu picked up a ten of diamonds, creating a conflict of interests: He could either use it in a set with his other tens or in a ten-jack-queen straight, and then he’d have to shed a card. Committing to his vision of getting the four of diamonds and knocking the four-card set out early, he discarded his now unnecessary two of clubs. To his slight dismay, Vasu drew a nine of diamonds several turns later, rendering his plans for the low-card straight obsolete, now that he nine through queen. But it left him at a crossroads: He’d either have to break up his pending straight of high clubs, or throw Cha-Cha a bone by giving him the last five, which would all but ensure he’d achieve his four-card set, too.
Vasu’s thoughts were turning in on themselves like paper curling as it burns. Only a few cards remained; they were approaching the bottom of the deck. Vasu held a boggling mix of nines, tens, jacks, and queens, creating various overlapping sets but only two whole ones, and he needed three. He just needed the eight or jack of hearts, and then he’d have three straights. And then he would win. With only—he counted quickly—six cards left in the deck, there was a one-in-three chance he would draw one or the other on his next turn. But that meant he’d have to discard the five of diamonds and pray to every god in Nirvana that it wasn’t the final card his opponent needed for gin. Before Vasu could lose his resolve, he flung the five of diamonds down.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. Seconds stretched into minutes. Vasu bit his lip. I can’t lose. Not here. Not in front of all these competitors. I can’t look weak before the tournament even begins.
“Gin,” Cha-Cha calmly declared, not even bothering to pick up the final five. He simply laid his discard to the side and threw down his hand, letting the other cards fall atop the five that Vasu had given him. Four fives, three sixes, and three kings. Ten matching cards.
The realization that Vasu had quite literally lost at his own game wasn’t crushing. It was gentle, like a final tendril of smoke from a dying candle. “Wait,” he implored, hating the keening note that had crept into his voice. “One more. Best of three!”
“No, thank you.” Cha-Cha backed away from the invisible table. When he moved, that fragrance like incense and old books and shadows over dark furniture drifted into the air again. Despite himself, Vasu breathed a heavy lungful of it. “The deal was one hand. One hand is all I’m playing.” His face brightening into a smile, he turned to address the group. “It was nice seeing all your lovely faces! I look forward to meeting you properly over the coming days, when I’m not too invested in a card game to get to talk with you.” Not forgetting Sasha still lurking wordlessly in the corner as if she hoped to meld with the wall, he nodded and waved at her too before taking his leave.
At the threshold to the next compartment, Cha-Cha spun once more. “Judging by the change in altitude and light, we’ll be arriving at Ilvermorny in roughly half an hour. I recommend you all get changed for the ball soon. The dress code is semi-formal.” With the arrogant swagger of a hustler—one who pretends not to know how to play a game and then beats a skilled player—Cha-Cha disappeared from the car. Where they sat at the edge of the table, light refracted off the cards, and the king of hearts winked mockingly up at Vasu.
 
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Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Interested






Location:


Train






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Lanre and Vasu










Instead of flinching at the sarcastic response given by his favorite professor Ricardo offered a wide and toothy smile. One that showed respect and appreciation. Two things that weren't used to describe most people who had manipulated and killed but ones that felt right to explain what Ricardo thought of his professor.

Ricardo wasn't a guy who kept up with drama or cared to know about what was going on around school. While he had a feeling that rumors tended to be true he found himself on the outside of knowing what was going on around him a lot. How bad was it? He didn't fully know Cha-Cha's history until his more recent years at Castelobruxo. In the end it didn't do a lot to their relationship. He still liked his professor and as hard as it was to look past his illegal body count at first, it did not take long for him to accept that about Cha-Cha and move on. He reminded him of someone he knew before. Someone who desperately wanted to escape who they were before and who brought out the best in others around them when they tried. Or maybe it was the mind games his professor and one of his old friends would play with people they didn't like.

"Alriiight!" Ricardo grinned. Only looking ashamed of his excitement when Vasu went on to shed some light on what he thought of video games. He was confused when Vasu said that he played tabletop games. He would argue that those are for playing with a grandmother or if you were deprived of anything good in life but the conversation between him and Ricardo's professor was moving at speeds so fast that he didn't dare try to butt in or remind Cha-Cha that gin was a game he taught Ricky how to play.

He had fun watching the two play their game. Ricardo was glad he didn't have to play against someone like Vasu. Competitiveness was a trait he appreciated but the degree of it coming from a hostile stranger with too much to prove such as Vasu was too intimidating to be enjoyable. But his satisfaction came from his professor schooling this big headed guy who thought he was better than them because he didn't play video games. Ricky was not someone who picked up on sly comments all of the time but with his professor it was easier to pick up on. He missed comments here and there but Ricky never claimed to be good at higher games. His comments were off the wall and unhinged when they came to him. And usually said without no thought to what could follow.

Ricky said nothing about Vasu's loss and gave Cha-Cha a wave as he departed the compartment. He thought that Vasu needed humbling and that he had gotten enough of it then. "What a game." He said instead. Not realizing how much worse that was than saying anything else. He quickly tried again. "I wouldn't want to be against you two as partners in spades."







 
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Theo James West // Male // Hogwarts Secondary // Pureblood
Interacting with: Clara pearjuice pearjuice and Cha-Cha (sort of) Aviator Aviator

The stuffy train was quickly turning into what Theo would've described as a perfect manifestation of his waking nightmare. He had gone out of his way to remain just outside the scope of the budding conversations between the various groups of students all so anxious to make friends. Pathetic, he huffed to himself, almost entertained by the fact that his 'competitors' had served themselves up on a silver platter for him. All he had to do was sit back and watch as they developed their own foolish attachments, disclosed their tendencies and weaknesses and told him everything he needed to know without even speaking a word to him. He didn't think of himself as a mean person, though he doubted his own classification meant much to anybody. He was not, however, beyond exploiting vulnerabilities if it earned him a leg up. So he had been quiet, speaking very little, but listening intently for any piece of useful information he could get his hands on.

So far, he had already surmised that very few of the other contestants posed an actual threat to him, at least not the ones that Theo had seen. The Beauxbatons crew was too friendly for their own good, already forming what could later turn into an alliance with the Metamorphmagus from Ilvermony and the boy from Durmstrang. He would have to keep an eye on that situation, but for now, he needed to get away from the hoards of socialization. He moved through the narrow halls of the train like a brick wall, towering at least a foot above most of the others. His broad shoulders and hulking stance made him quite the intimidating obstacle, which was how he liked it. A majority of the time Theo found that people would rather steer clear of him than risk getting caught in his gaze, and he didn't blame them. Besides, it was easier that way for him, to stalk his prey before they saw him coming.

As the apex predator in his respective food chain, Theo rarely found his muscles tensing the way that they did when he caught a glimpse of a dark head of hair and tanned skin pacing back into interior of the train from one of the doors that led outside. Chahaya Arif, he recognized the face almost instantly, and though the two males barely exchanged a glance as they passed each other, Theo's molten eyes darkened. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he began putting the bricks of his mental wall in place. Theo had done his research, had exercised due diligence in ascertaining what exactly he would be up against, and though the professor was not technically direct competition, Theo was threatened the most by this one. Perhaps, had he been in the mood, the young Slytherin would've allowed his shoulder to slam into the smaller frame of this snake in the grass. But, using his better judgement, he decided to let sleeping dogs lie for now.

There were very few things in this world that set Theo's teeth on edge the way a legilimens did. Growing up in the same house as one, he had learned very early on the way it felt to have an unwelcome presence digging around in the depths of your consciousness. Even just thinking about it now made his blood run cold, and his jaw tensed in a visceral reaction. Legilimency ran in the West family, though it was a 'gift' Theo himself had not inherited. His elder brother, Cassius, used to find it entertaining to torment young Theo, all too pleased with his own ability to bend the younger boys mind to his will. He used to wake up screaming from nightmarish fits, until his father finally resigned to teach him occlumency so that Theo could finally protect himself fraom Cassius' invasions. There were times when Theo wondered if that was what the imperius curse felt like, and although he had no personal quarrels using other unforgivable curses... he had made a personal vow never to cast that one. The sanctity of one's own mind was a boundary even Theo wouldn't dare to cross.

When he finally barreled his way onto the exterior platform, he was surprised to see that he was not alone, though it didn't deter him. Locks of dark hair whipped behind a female figure who was leaning backwards, resting against one of the windows as she rummaged through a bag seemingly filled with papers. No sooner had the door loudly swung shut behind him than the wind had caught hold of one of the girl's papers, tearing it out of her hand and whipping it towards Theo. In a single, fluid movement he snatched the parchment out of the air, crumpling it partially in the process. He took a few strides forward, silently offering it back to her as he exhaled with a sigh. His dark eyes caught a glimpse of the words typed on the paper, and his jaw set as he recognized a single word... a name.

"You a fan or something?" he huffed with a humorless laugh, glancing backwards as if he might still see Chahaya standing there, assuming the pair must have been discussing some of the author's works. "I don't personally care much for legilimency, but to each his own I guess." He shrugged as she took back the paper, and he let his eyes drag up and down her figure. She was a pretty little thing, her blue eyes caught his attention, lined with dark makeup and already forming daggers at him, drawing a mildly entertained smirk to his lips.
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    You are worth finding. Worth knowing. Worth loving. You and all your one million layers. I know you think yourself to be full of poems and rage but you are more than your anger. I miss the girl who was really happy.

    - Your big bro​






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Clara had been trying to stuff her notes in her bag when the traitorous weather stole one of the articles, the one that was highlighting Cha-Cha's thoughts on emotional intelligence and stress management. It had been a riveting paper, really, and a huge loss when she thought it had been lost to the wind. She looked up in time to lock eyes with a brunette boy, who she found was holding the article. It was a surprise that he was handing it back to her so quickly, and fearing that he might somehow change his mind, Clara closed the space between them and snatched the paper out of his hand before rolling it up and sticking it neatly into her purse.

"A what? Fan? No, I don't do 'fan'." She scoffed in disapproval, shaking her head and continuing to mess with her bag. Even if her conversation with Cha-Cha had gone better, she would never have called herself a fan; she was far too prideful to admit that her respect for him went further than casual admiration. "No. Even if I was, it would not be of a man with a blood smeared past. He happens to have a marvelous brain, that's all."

Finished tucking away her items into her bag, she looked up at the boy inquisitively. The last remnants of light that flickered past as the train moved along cast dark shadows over parts of his face, enough to tell Clara that similarly to the last person she spoke with, he was attractive. Though this time he looked far more familiar and it was easy to keep her mind clear. Her head leaned to the side as she contemplated before speaking. "You look familiar." She stated, allowing her eyes to travel up and down his body - not intentionally provocative, but more as in she was trying to identify where she might know him from. "Have we met before? Perhaps at a country club or while out traveling?"

Clara was better than most at remembering faces, but still not enough to recall every single person she'd shared an interaction with. When it came to Cha-Cha, she had barely paid attention to the photos attached alongside the long list of crimes he committed - long enough to conclude that he was hot, but seeing as it only took a glance at his photo to confirm this, she made no effort to commit his appearance to memory - and she had seen one singular photo years ago. These days she was more interested in what was in his head than how pretty his hair was. So when she saw Cha-Cha face to face, it made sense that any connections she made were based on the facts that lined up with some of the documents or articles she had seen; that he was Indonesian, that he smelled 'not bad' (Clara's words exactly when Cosmo wouldn't stop bothering her about why she was so interested in a spell that had to do with scent and luring strangers in), and that he thought himself to look young for his age. Those three things she had noticed from the man who called himself Cha-Cha, but to her it wasn't enough to just assume that was a man who'd unknowingly taught her so much. Not every stranger she met was a criminal just because they were attractive.

But the boy standing before her? He looked familiar and was certainly a student - with Cha-Cha it had been hard to tell. She was sure she had seen the student a handful of times somewhere. At the very least in photos. Was he a friend of Vasu, or Cosmo's even? Clara tried not to mingle with anyone that Cosmo liked because of what happened with what used to be their friends. On that train of thought he could be a friend of Ricky's, which immediately would make him an enemy. Somehow him being someone she wouldn't have to get along with was easier than the idea that they truly had no connections to one another. Clara would not dare say she would make any friends here but she was sure that if - no, once - Cosmo was named champion, that she would get to know the other secondaries closer than she ever planned on. It may be nice to manipulate a few of them early on in order to purloin information.

He wasn't bad looking. Which meant he likely had a big ego and would do anything to keep her attention if she made it fun for him and played the part of whatever he liked. She would need multiple games to keep herself out of trouble anyways, plus she could argue that she was already being a team player... even if it was for her insufferable brother. What was the worst that could happen?



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  • Aurelia Quansah
    Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary


    “Thank you.” Auri smiled and took a seat just across from the young stranger in the dining cart. She placed her plate on the table and as she did so she glanced across at the young man who had so kindly allowed her to sit with him. He looked tired but she was certain many of the passengers aboard this train were tired. Though as she had approached the table she had noticed he seemed to be deep in thought and couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was a nervous traveler who needed to disassociate in order to make it through long trips. She had a cousin who suffered from something similar and refused to travel long distance though luckily magic made it easier for her. Auri of course didn’t want to jump to any assumptions regarding the young man and thus made no mention of her thoughts.

    When his hand appeared before her she reached out to shake it. “It’s nice to meet you Lis.” She replied with warmth to her voice as she sat naturally tall and proud like her grandmother had taught her from a young age. “I’m Aurelia, but everyone calls me Auri.” She introduced in kind and pulled her hand back, grabbing an almond croissant from her plate and taking a bite. Hearing his question she nodded her head back and forth slightly in consideration as she used a napkin to wipe powdered sugar from her lips. Once she finished her bite she let out a soft sigh and shrugged. “I can’t complain. It gave me time to read which I must say I was incredibly grateful for. I can’t imagine I’ll have much time for it with all the excitement ahead of us.” She admitted as she gently tore at on of her pastries. “What about you?” She inquired in kind as she popped another buttery, flaky, sweet bit into her mouth and began to chew.

    While she had only just met Lis she had a feeling he might be someone she would get along with. She had only known him for a few heartbeats so she still needed time to form a full and educated opinion of the young man. Thus far, he had been kind enough to share his space with her, and polite enough to strike up a conversation and introduce himself. There were plenty of people who wouldn’t do either so it meant at least something good that Lis had. She listened attentively to his response to her question, wanting to repay his kindness with respect for his words. Once he finished she looked out the window before looking back at him. “So, are you an Ilvermorny student or are you visiting from another school?” She asked, figuring it was a harmless enough question that would keep the conversation flowing nicely.



    Mentions: Lisandro irregular-neptune irregular-neptune



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 
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Kiara Ophelia Sinclaire // Female // Beauxbaton's Secondary // Pureblood
Interacting with: Raphael captaindanger captaindanger Gavy Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1 Cosmo pearjuice pearjuice

Kiara had unsurprisingly drifted back to sleep in the comfort of the warm cabin, the soft murmurs of conversation between her peers and the gentle rocking of the train had lulled her into a drowsy sense of security. It wasn't until a shift of momentum caused her body to rock forward that her Caribbean blue eyes blinked open, glancing around the cabin and trying to remind herself where she was. She was grateful for Raph's gentle grip on her legs, preventing her from sliding completely off the bench and tumbling onto the floor. Still, it didn't stop the pitiful moan and grumbled "five more minutes" as she rolled away from the window, burying her face in the crook of her elbow and stretching her long legs even farther onto Raph's lap. Her baggy sweater was serving as a blanket, in fact her outfit borderline resembled pajamas. With one last yawn, she began rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, catching a glimpse of the rolling countryside out of the window she forced herself to get a grip on reality, and it was only then that she decided to join in on the conversation that was buzzing in their small cabin. "Are we slowing down?"

Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon, straining to see if somewhere in the distance there she would be able to make out the shape of their destination. As she furrowed her brows, her eyes shifted focus, and suddenly instead of a peaceful landscape she caught her own reflection staring back at her. Her gaze widened and fingers flew to her hair, struggling to comb the brown locks into place and tame her bed head. This was what she got for falling asleep on the train. With a sheepish smile, she turned towards Gavy, who seemed to have noticed Kiara's little predicament and smiled reassuringly, offering to braid her hair for her. "Yes please... that would be lovely." Without another word, Kiara slide onto the floor, crossing her legs criss cross applesauce style and facing away from Gavy, who's nimble fingers quickly began pulling Kiara's long brown hair into an intricate braided style. Kiara had grown up in a family with all boys, so she had never had an older sister to braid her hair or teach her the finer points of makeup and flirting, and it wasn't something she would've felt comfortable talking to her mom about. It was nice, to have another girl around who so seamlessly melded with Kiara's presence. She could tell the two of them were going to become fast friends.

It didn't take long for the conversation to shift to quidditch, and although Kiara herself didn't play, she had made it a point to never miss one of Raphael's games. She had quite the notorious reputation for being his loudest (though some may have described it as obnoxious) cheerleader, and made no attempt to hide her favoritism. Raphael was Kiara's closest friend at school, and though they came from different houses the two of them shared an affinity for clumsiness and a distaste for homework which had brought the pair closer together than most. Kiara had never been lacking in friends or romantic interests, she was kind and relatively attractive which made it easy for her to develop relationships with people. But she often felt that a majority of her friendships were only skin deep, none of the others really understood her the way that Raph did, so she kept him close. "He's being modest," she smirked softly, as Raphael mentioned his tendency to destroy the quidditch equipment. "I've seen him break 7 bats in one game... still the best beater on the team though." her smirk turned into a grin as she gave Raph a cheeky smile, reassuring him her comments were all in good fun.

She was trying her best to sit still so that Gavy could finish the braid she was working on. But as Kiara sat on the floor she couldn't help sifting through the pile of treats sitting on the bench next to Cosmo, hoping she would be able to get her hands on something sweet. Her eyes practically sparkled when they landed on the wrappings of a chocolate frog, reaching for it with a greedy grin and quickly pulling the packaging open. Almost immediately, the charmed chocolate creature sprung from its little cage, hopping directly onto Cosmo's knee. Without hesitating, Kiara lunged forward, her hands clamping down in an attempt to trap her chocolatey charmed treat but she almost immediately regretted it. She had unintentionally yanked her own hair which Gavy was generously trying to braid, and in the process had sent the chocolate frog scampering up Cosmo's torso. "Ugh - shit, sorry." she wasn't sure if she was apologizing to Gavy or Cosmo... or just the entire cabin for causing such a commotion.

​
 
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/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ tabs ------ */









  • /* ------ sticky note letter ------ */
    I don't understand muggle music. The 12 days of Christmas is completely unrealistic. There is no way that you're still accepting gifts from someone after 4 days of birds. Anyways, happy holidays. Don't forget my gift.
    - Your favorite sister​






/* ------ right side ------ */

"Seven bats?" Cosmo asked incredulously, listening to the conversation of Raphael's destructive playing tendencies. Cosmo himself was known to accidentally break things, but never so many or so often. It appeared he had finally met his match. It wasn't much of a shock that it was the quidditch player from Beauxbaton; they were similar in size which meant that he probably worked out a decent amount like Cosmo himself did. He hoped there would be a chance to get to know him better. "Your headmaster must hate you. He or she must be counting down the days until you graduate." He laughed, not meaning any harm by his words.

Unlike Clara, Cosmo was excited just to have the opportunity to go on the journey that was the competition. He was confident that it would be his name drawn, but even if that weren't the case, he wanted this to be an opportunity to try and mend his relationship with his sister. They were usually at each other's throats so being forced to work on the same team so publicly might be enough to get his sister to comply and willingly work alongside him for their name and school. If that didn't pan out, he was still just as giddy to get to meet all of the other students and get to see what everywhere else was like. He wasn't sure there would be many chances to do any of the touristy things in each country but getting to speak amongst the students and make connections was good enough for him. He wasn't picky - he just liked to be out of his regular element. He had always been very open to a change in circumstances where Clara wasn't and thrived on it.

Cosmo felt something soft and a little wet hit the bend of his knee. Before he could react, a pair of soft hands slammed down on it and the gentle pressure of the chocolate frog jumped up to his chest. His hands moved fast to cup the frog onto his chest, not allowing it to escape or jump onto his face. Unfortunately, what had meant to be a cupping motion of his hands actually resulted in him slapping the poor animated treat. Chocolate splattered on his shirt in a dramatic messy way; the candy soaking all the way through his shirt and beginning to trail down the front of his chest. He paid no mind to it, and offered Kiara an apologetic expression.

"Oh, that one's on me. There should be one more in the bag. I won't kill it this time if it jumps on me." He added with a chuckle, sitting up a little straighter. He lightly pulled away the shirt from his chest, looking down at the mess he had made again. There was no point in trying to clean it up - everyone would have to get up and change soon anyways for the opening ceremonies. He knew there was a spell to clean up messes such as the one he made, but Clara usually did it for him so he didn't know it. She was always more concerned about how he looked than he was, but even this he knew to be a bit ridiculous for the situation. Oh well.


/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */
© weldherwings.
 














  • lisandro valencia
    castelobruxo champion



    E
    ven as the girl sat, she towered over him, making him feel a bit like an ant. Lis was used to feeling this way, but he wished it didn’t make him feel so self-conscious still. Being small wasn’t a moral failing on his part, it just… was. Unfortunately for Lis, it wasn’t really in his nature to just accept things as they are. He had to critique anything that was different from the “norm”, whatever that was. His height was a big one, not only for Lis but for his parents. He remembered them fretting over whether he’d be this size forever. He guess he still had a bit of time, but… he would probably still be pretty short his whole life. Lis didn’t even know if it was his height itself that bothered him, or the way his parents reacted to it.

    “It’s nice to meet you too,”
     Lis said, smiling back at the girl.
    “Oh, Auri? I love that name.”


    His social prowess was at its height in a group setting – individual conversations were always so hard for him. He hated small talk, hated super awkward silences, but what else was there to even talk about? Their interests? Lis had a hard time listening to things that he himself wasn’t interested in, even if he tried to. His mind would just wander. Making eye contact was a big one – he often felt like he either stared at people or weirdly didn’t look into their eyes. Now, he was trying not to creep Auri out by staring too intensely at her, so he glanced outside for a bit while she answered his question and returned it with her own. Her answer excited him because books were something he was very interested in, so maybe they would actually have something to talk about.

    “Well, it’s been uneventful thus far. I’ve been reading too, actually… I’ve been trying to study,”
     he laughed a bit nervously.
    “I feel like I’ll never be fully prepared.”


    As they spoke, another girl entered the food car and sat down not far from them, almost seemingly staring at them. She made Lis nervous, though she seemed quiet. He didn’t know if he ought to invite her over, but he looked her way and offered her a smile and a wave so she’d know she was welcome if she wanted to. Not that everyone who entered the car had to sit at his table, he just didn’t want anyone to feel excluded.

    So are you an Ilvermorny student or are you visiting from another school? Auri’s question interrupted Lis’s thoughts, bringing him back to their table.

    He was a bit surprised, not realizing that his accent didn’t completely give him away as definitely not American.
    “Oh, I’m from Castelobruxo, actually. I take it you aren’t from Ilvermorny either?”
     He guessed because if she was, she would likely have known that he wasn’t, and he could tell she had a bit of an accent. He wondered what school she was from, and was excited to learn about the other schools. As the light through the windows got darker and more orange, the closer seeing Ilvermorny in person was growing. Nervous and excited, he fidgeted with the hem on his shirt as the train rumbled on.









    location:
    the food car








    interaction:
    auri Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1 zuri thundercloud611 thundercloud611








    feeling:
    nervous, talkative


    sugar coded ♡
 







Raphael

Beauxbatons Champion







Mood:


Chilling






Location:


Train






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Cosmo, Gavy, Ramona Kiara










OOC: I probably won't post again with Ricardo since we are trying to wrap up interactions. If we don't have time to do photos on the train maybe Ramona brings her camera to the opening ceremony so that the students can have copies before the professional ones go out to the public?

Raphael lifted his hands to allow for Kiara to get off of him easier, watching curiously as the two girls conversed. Gavy's nimble fingers made fast work of acquiring the thick locks atop Kiara's head and bringing them together layer upon layer to create a beautiful braid. He was never good at things that required a lot of his attention. Raphael looked at the bigger picture stuff and didn't care about the little details. His eyes were hurting just from watching how careful Gavy was being.

He tuned into what Ramona was saying but noticed her sentence trailed off. Wondering what happened he turned and saw the aftermath of Kiara and Cosmo trying to catch a snack. The aftermath evident by the splatter of thick brown ooze on the latter's shirt and all over his hands. Not having any good manners, Raphael laughed. Thankfully this seemed to be okay because Cosmo was laughing too.

"We still gotta take pictures before we get off," Raphael reminded his new friend. He didn't try to hide how he found his predicament humorous. "I think you look fantastic but maybe that isn't how you wanna look in them."







[font=O[/bg]
 
secondary
location
train to ilvermorny
mood
shocked
outfit
click me~!
mentions
vasu, ricardo, lanre and naomi
sasha golubev
Sasha had joined the group with much hesitancy, but allowed herself to slip inside after encouragement from a person that Vasu had deemed 'pretty boy'. The title seemed fitting. She slid into the booth with him and ate her food quietly as she watched Vasu set up a card game and announce his bet to the group. Everyone's hands reached to grab their set of cards and the quiet blonde did her best to take up as little space as possible on the table to ensure players would have ample space to move about.

Not much time passed after just that when the boy she had bumped into previously arrived at the door of the compartment. Her blue eyes flickered up to him and then scurried back to Vasu, with less wondering and more alarm. While she felt that his confidence didn't come without reason, she knew that he had a knack for getting himself into trouble by coming off too arrogant. They weren't at Ilvermorny yet and he had already made an enemy. It's a wonder he has friends with that attitude, she thought to herself, wisely keeping it to herself.

Sasha knew that her thoughts were partially wrong. After years of watching him grow and repeatedly make a name of himself, she knew him to be just as good as he was bad. Where there was reason to be responsible, there was reason to be uptight. He knew how to find vulnerability because he disliked being so. Every good or bad thing about him had a strong link that rounded him out as a person and that was one of the many reasons that she mistakenly became taken with him. She was not vain enough to base those feelings on looks alone. His confidence never failed to make her head swarm with bees and bring her tongue-tied in class, which yes, was just another reason for her to keep her lips pressed together lest she wanted to make a dunce of herself.

She had seen Vasu get knocked down and stand up one more time repeatedly. At first because she found him annoying and hard to ignore, then because it was what she was supposed to do, and then because she found herself rooting for him. He had not won every encounter or challenge but that was the way life was going for him lately. At least from what she saw. So when the other handsome person she had nearly collided with earlier won their game, it was unexpected. She almost did not pick up on the contents of the cards he had laid down.

Sasha had finished her food before the end of the game and during the change of game and players. She now stood in the corner of the room, the tray and trash taken care of thanks to a chute in the wall to the left of the door. Her arms crossed, taken aback by the unexpected loss of her classmate. She gave the teacher a smile and struggled to find the words that might help soften the blow dealt. As she was realizing that might be a bad idea, Pretty Boy did it himself. She tried not to wince. Wanting to avoid a fight between the group after having sensed how uncomfortable Ricardo and Lanre were, she uncharacteristically chirped up.

"That's nothing compared to his Quidditch skills." She remarked. She hated how the words came out too fast and too quiet. She was confident in what she was saying because she had seen Vasu play dozens of times but she wasn't sure it would come off that way because of how timid she was. "Um, I mean, it's just, you know, my job to watch him play. I'm a commentator for Quidditch." Not wanting to fall victim to any possible outlash from Vasu, she gave the group a shy smile with the intention to leave after speaking. "It was fun to watch. Thanks for letting me."

ooc: im going to follow captain's lead and not post again with either characters. zuri was too awkward to join lisandro and aurelia so it wasn't like i had much else to type after this
coded by natasha.
 
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