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Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread

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Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “the Friendly Demon” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
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There was a half-second’s pause after the final Beauxbatons representative, a brunette in a sleek powder-blue dress, joined her fellows at the base of the stage. And then, hesitantly, the curtain twitched open to admit Lisandro. He blinked in the dazzling white spotlight, disoriented, as if he’d just been roused from a light slumber and was surprised to find himself on display. Cha-Cha’s applause turned from polite to enthusiastic at his student’s appearance. He smiled at Lis from where he and the other professors sat at the left side of the floor, where the students entered the stage. If Lis noticed him, he gave no acknowledgement. He carried himself staidly across the stage, his usual inconspicuous shuffle transformed into something more dignified, if a hair too fast. But Lis managed a smile at the audience, and for the first time that evening, he looked comfortable in his suit, which no longer seemed so close-fitting.
Some students went for a serious, intimidating angle as they glowered out at the audience. Others played the crowd with grace and gusto, waving or twirling so that their dresses belled out. Lis’s procession was neither; his was somewhat more candid, yet all the more endearing because of it, as if a camera had snapped him playing with a puppy when he didn’t expect it. While his student was sometimes uncertain of himself and at a loss for words, Cha-Cha found it refreshing, how Lis didn’t tailor himself to fit others’ expectations. At least at school, because Cha-Cha suspected that his home life was a different story. Lis wasn’t a snake that shed its skin for a new one depending on circumstance; he was himself, even if he wasn’t always confident in who that was. It was a skill that Cha-Cha had never grasped in the twice as many years that he’d been alive.
In comparison, Ricky’s showing seemed more mindful of the audience. He walked smoothly, taking his time, ensuring that his gaze swept the whole audience, wearing the same boyish smile he had when he geeked about fighting games. The light turned his hair into an angelic halo of gold. A girl with silver braids in the audience wolf-whistled at him, evoking a titter of laughter from her friends. Cha-Cha smiled slyly. During his own Triwizard Tournament, he hadn’t done any more flirting than that which was merely friendly because he’d had a boyfriend at Koldovstoretz at the time, but some of the Mahoutokoro boys and girls had sorely tempted him. The Japanese had an ethereal beauty unique to them. However, to the best of his knowledge—and Ricky told him a lot—Ricky had no such overseas obligations. And if that breathless, moonstruck look that Cha-Cha had caught at the carriages was any indication, a similar thought had already struck Ricky. Of course, a relationship with an Ilvermorny student wouldn’t be convenient in a month from now, when the tournament packed up and headed to Castelobruxo, but there was no reason that things couldn’t be short and sweet.
After Lisandro and Ricky was the Durmstrang crew. A muscular boy in a tawny suit and pegasus mask took the stage next, basking in the audience’s clamor as he raced across, arms in the air. Cha-Cha cocked an eyebrow at the breach of protocol, amused, but the crowd seemed to be responding well to it. Well, aren’t you a little attention whore, he thought wryly. When Clara Winter was announced, instead of vacating the stage as was customary, the boy lingered. He swept an arm at her grandly, as if greeting a lady of high status. Cha-Cha had downed his first glass of wine before the start of the student introductions, and he was steadily working his way through his second. He didn’t remember the boy’s name, but there was something that suggested a sibling camaraderie in the way that the Durmstrang students played off of one another. Clara giggled and waved her hand coyly, as if to say Stop it in response to her counterpart’s attentions. Cha-Cha remembered from their conversation on the train that she had a brother, and one of her journals was reserved for the express purpose of messing with him. Was this said brother?
Two siblings chosen for the same tournament. How nepotistic— I mean, extraordinary, Cha-Cha thought. In his experience, when massive coincidences defied the odds, money was usually the reason. He imagined the Winter siblings had it in abundance, wearing their wealth like a perfume, reeking of trust funds and designer shoes and friends in high places. Among his own students, he knew Lis came from money, but Ricky came from an average Muggle family, which restored Cha-Cha’s faith in the integrity of Castelobruxo’s selections. Somewhat. While he was close with Ricky and didn’t know Lis very well but had seen nothing to dislike, Cha-Cha had recommended neither of the boys for the tournament. Lis was prone to nervousness and couldn’t be counted on to perform under pressure, and Ricky’s emotions ran hot and sometimes got the better of him. But Cha-Cha saw more than the average person, and apparently neither of the boys’ flaws were overly worrying to the average person.
He tossed back the last dregs of wine in his glass, and just as he was reaching to pour himself a new one, he caught the eye of the professor sitting on a diagonal from him, next to Einar. Blue eyes as serene as a deep forest lake. From what he could tell beneath her mask, she was pretty, inky-black hair framing a heart-shaped face, her lips full and pouty and painted brightly. An untouched glass of white wine sat in front of her. Cha-Cha offered her a smile, and her eyes darted away with the surreptitious suddenness of someone who didn’t want to be caught staring but couldn’t resist her own morbid curiosity. It was a look that Cha-Cha was well-acquainted with, like he was an exotic bird with a nasty penchant for killing and eating its young. Ah. You recognize me, he intuited. Clearly, even ten years and several continents away from the scene of the crime, his reputation preceded him. Well, it’s about time, I guess. I’m overdue. In all honesty, he’d been expecting it to happen much sooner, and several times over by now. He’d been the Indonesian Ministry’s most wanted criminal for a hot minute.
Realizing that it might be a long night ahead of him if the woman decided to blow his cover, he swiveled back to the stage and started in on that third glass. His stomach gurgled from the sheer volume of wine in it unsupported by any solid sustenance, and his face was starting to feel warm and tingly. Inexplicably, the never-ending parade of students was getting more interesting the longer it went on. Cha-Cha realized that the responsible thing would have been to put a pin in it until he got some food in him. But Cha-Cha’s early years had been spent trying to survive rather than succeed, and he was not an overly responsible person. As he watched his tournament successors, Koldovstoretz students Sasha and Vasu, take the stage, he was wondering who had put the alphabet in alphabetical order and whether something as infinite as time or space could end. Fortunately, being surrounded by professors who likely had better Occlumency defenses than students reduced the probability of them bleeding, because when Cha-Cha hit the bottle hard he had difficulty untangling his own thoughts from those nearby, a disconcerting sensation that often had him questioning his sanity. And people tended to react with primal fear when the words on their mind were repeated verbatim.
When Sasha and Vasu bowed together, the blue-eyed woman spoke. The sudden sound of her voice so close startled Cha-Cha. He turned in her direction but she was all eyes for the man sitting next to him, pointedly not looking at Cha-Cha. But what really caught his attention was her accent, the slow, melodic drawl with elongated vowels and syllables that varied between too many and not enough. It was so exaggerated that, for a moment, Cha-Cha had to parse out her words to understand them. Ever since he’d left New Orleans, he could count the number of times he’d heard such an accent. Why, he thought sardonically, it’s the voice of people who don’t tip their servers well! His face broke into a grin, and he was unable to conceal a snort of laughter. Both the man on his left and the woman across from him looked at him sharply, eyebrows hovering in the air. “Nothing,” Cha-Cha bit out, knowing that his humor tended to get proportionately offensive with the amount he drank, and that his thoughts were best left unshared.
But then, as he looked over the man on his left, something jumped out at him. There was something familiar in the narrow face and bushy brows, shaggy hair slicked back from his forehead. The beard almost threw Cha-Cha off, because he hadn’t had that the last time Cha-Cha had seen him, when he was seventeen years old and batting Quaffles away from goalposts. “Kazimir Vinogradov?” Cha-Cha breathed incredulously, so thunderstruck that he set his wine glass on the table. “Is that you, man? Holy hells”—he barely switched in time from saying something more indecorous—“long time, no see! How ya doing?” The student introductions were still ongoing, but Cha-Cha was oblivious to them anymore. “How long you been teaching at Koldovstoretz, Cap? Do you still play Quidditch? If so, they gotta have a pitch here. Whaddaya say to a rematch of that last Court Cup game?”
 
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Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth​

Vasu could practically taste the relief like cold, sweet rain on his tongue as he and Sasha descended the short flight of stairs from the stage and joined the ranks of the already named representatives. Sasha hadn’t frozen up in front of the audience. He hadn’t fumbled his steps when handing that front-row girl the rose and gone pitching off the front of the stage. They had done it! His mind grew giddy with the realization, but his body hadn’t realized the danger was over just yet, his heart hammering the way it did when he blocked a near goal on the Quidditch pitch. Vasu pretended to be oblivious to the sea of stares aimed at him and his teammate, some of which were awed and others plainly envious despite the masks on his competitors’ faces. Inwardly he smothered a smile and the urge to punch his fist into the air in victory. Within the first five minutes of the tournament, he and Sasha were fan favorites. Vasu was all too aware of strength in numbers, and perhaps the crowd’s loyalty would turn the tide of the first challenge in their favor.
“Hm?” He pulled his gaze away from the stage to glance over at Sasha when she uttered one short syllable. Her throat bobbed, as if bashful to find him looking at her, prompting her to elaborate. She stared at her high heels in a way that suggested she was relaying confidential information. And when context set in, Vasu found himself equally embarrassed, unable to believe his own naivete. “Oh,” he said as the realization that she wasn’t talking about gillyweed sank in. Vasu had minimal knowledge and no personal experience of the weed that Sasha was talking about, only that it was a mind-altering drug somewhat akin to alcohol that Muggles used in their leisure time to relax. Apparently Sasha used it for more than just leisure, too. He felt a blush creeping up his neck as the meaning of her earlier comment about gummies took on more nuance. Not knowing what else to say, he glanced away, turning halfway back to the stage, and noticed that they were still holding hands since their exit from the stage. Vasu retracted his hand as swiftly as if he didn’t want to be seen palming a card and clasped them behind his back, squeezing one wrist as if the pressure would alleviate the heat in his face.
A Uagadou girl was taking the stage, and Vasu made sure to pay attention, as both of them would be his dance partners sometime over the course of the evening. Conveniently, his first three partners were all from either Uagadou or Ilvermorny, and his fourth and fifth partners he knew personally, so he really only had to tune in for the final two schools of introductions. Which was good, because he’d been so absorbed in creating the plan for their entrance with Sasha and mentally rehearsing it in his head that he couldn’t remember a single name of the students who’d come before them if he tried. When she fired off a question at him, Vasu threw a quick look in her direction without turning his body toward her, figuring it would be disrespectful to be caught talking while the student introductions were still ongoing. “H-how do I what?” he asked, still rattled from their previous exchange which had made him feel like a fool. Sasha answered that she was referring to doing this sober. Vasu briefly wondered whether she meant specifically going onstage or functioning at large, but asking her to clarify would probably be indecorous.
Sometimes I don’t, he thought, thinking of how he’d flown to the bar car as soon as he’d boarded the train. But he knew this was not the response that he was supposed to give, and he’d managed tonight sober so far, hadn’t he? Vasu stifled a cringe when Sasha invoked the epithet that an interviewer from The Daily Prophet had dubbed him during last year’s Quidditch final, when his little sister Ekta had been interviewed during an intermission in the game and expounded upon their family’s special heritage from Shiva to a group of reporters. Indian wizards were a pious bunch, believing that pureblood families were descended from the gods of Hindu lore. Ostensibly, Vasu’s lineage from the god of snakes was the reason that his family could communicate with them. He didn’t particularly enjoy the nickname, thinking that it sounded high and mighty and hopeful to a world that didn’t conform to Hindu beliefs. Vasu would rather prove his merit through deeds than through some lofty tale that spouted he had godly blood running through his veins. But that didn’t stop Ekta from cutting the article out of the newspaper with her My Little Pony safety scissors and tacking it up on her mirror next to a photo from her previous birthday party.
Instead, still looking at the stage where one Uagadou girl was replacing another—Zuri and Aurelia, he remembered from his dance card—he responded, “Well, because it’s my role to be here. My duty.” He sensed a loaded silence from Sasha, as if his meaning had evaded her understanding. He elaborated, “If my talents can benefit Koldovstoretz or my family, then it’s my obligation to use them accordingly. I need to repay our school for giving me this opportunity by delivering, by performing to the best of my ability, and my family is counting on me too.” He dared another glance at Sasha, who was all eyes for him, staring like he was a marble statue chipped into perfection. The undue attention disquieted Vasu somewhat. “Frankly,” he continued, “the physical dangers of the tournament unsettle me infinitely more than the social ones. Students have died in this tournament, Sasha. I’m a lot more worried about a dragon scorching me to a crisp than I am about charming an audience.” When he finished, Vasu felt like a rock that had survived a landslide. The possibility of getting killed because he was underprepared for the challenges wasn’t something that he had discussed with anyone, but since Vasu was one of the youngest competitors, it weighed heavily on his mind.
In silence they watched the rest of the students take the stage, flouncing and flirting with the audience, or shuffling and shying away from the attention. Then, when all of them were lined up along the side of the stage to great applause, the woman in the gray suit who had introduced herself as Headmistress Jacobson announced that the dancing would begin as a way to “facilitate the multicultural camaraderie between schools.” Vasu prided himself on his multilingual skills, but the tournament students came from all over the world, and he wondered if all of his partners would be fluent in English or some language that they mutually understood. Since his first partner was a white girl from Ilvermorny, he was confident that she would at least speak English. Otherwise he was likely in for an awkward, silent, and seemingly endless dance.
It wasn’t hard to find Gavriel Sylvie. In addition to being the very last student to be introduced, making her at the end of the line, she sported a shock of ruinous-purple hair that matched the shade of her dress uncannily. Back when their father had still been alive, Vasu remembered when Ekta, then age six, had expressed at dinner one night a desire to dye her hair hot pink. Their grandmother had succinctly replied that, if she did, she would have to find a new family to love her, prompting Ekta to abandon her biryani and run up to her bedroom in tears.
Pushing the memory from his mind, Vasu found Gavriel Sylvie bubbling about the ceremony with the other Ilvermorny girl. She hadn’t seen him yet, and he paused to listen in to her words, to get a glimpse of what he was dealing with before he made his move. She spoke very fast and animatedly, with a certain vigor that suggested she didn’t have time to waste and was determined to experience life to the fullest. Eventually, the other Ilvermorny girl’s eyes darted over Gavriel’s shoulder, meeting Vasu’s and blowing his cover. Not wanting to stand there awkwardly and wait to be discovered, Vasu pushed his nerves aside and took a step forward.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Sylvie,” he said, punctuating the greeting with a small, formal bow. She whirled, revealing large ultramarine eyes encircled by a rhinestone-studded magenta mask. “Would you be so kind as to give me the honor of first dance?” Not like she has room to refuse, you fool, Vasu answered himself cynically. He forced a polite smile at her, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. He reminded himself that his strategy was to ingratiate himself with her, get her to like him in hopes of making an ally. The little time for socialization ahead of the first challenge was precious, and this was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to waste. The Koldovstoretz team would be stronger if they had someone with whom they could align their mutual interests.
 







Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Nervous






Location:


Ilvermorny






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Clara










Ricky turned his head to listen to the announcement that the dance would be starting and he smiled. His smile consisted largely of the nerves he felt but he didn't want to let it be easily seen so he tried to not let his nerves show. "I believe that is our cue." He said to Clara and held out a hand for her to take. When she did or when she denied and Ricky had to pull her away they crossed together where the students were instructed to go.

"It's been a while Clara." He started as he struggled to come up with anything to say. Now that they were alone he was really nervous and wished he had the natural charm of Cha-Cha or Cosmo to carry him through the conversation. Ricky wasn't a good liar and he was sure Clara knew all of his tells. What if he said the wrong thing? He racked his brain for something and came up short. He decided he would have to go off of instinct and prayed that it wouldn't lead him wrong.

"I assume that you will not let me apologize or grovel no matter how pretty I look while doing it?" That couldn't be bad right? Dealing with the problem straight on? It wasn't how they normally dealt with conflict but maybe ridding of their games for the time being was a good idea. It would prove that he was being serious about making amends. He wanted nothing more than for them to reconcile and go back to how things were.

The music started and from habit he placed one hand on her hip and his other hand in hers. The familiar pace of the music was what he was basing his decision off of because he didn't want to pick a dance style that was too fast or not fast enough. He felt nervous and was glad that his hands weren't clammy or that he didn't smell bad. He kept a confident smile on his face but it didn't reflect his real feelings. This dance had to go well. It was his one shot. First impressions mattered that's what Clara always said.












Raphael

Beauxbatons Champion







Mood:


Pumped






Location:


Ilvermorny






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Sasha










Raphael's stomach did an uncomfortable twist in his stomach when he heard the announcer go on the speaker to say that the dancing would begin shortly. He wasn't sure who his dance partner was and could only remember that she was one of the blonde girls. Thankfully and surprisingly there weren't as many of those and since he had already met Gavy it just left the other girl. He had a feeling she was Sasha from what he remembered of her on stage.

He saw her friend walk away to another group of girls that Raphael recognized and he took it as his chance to go up to her. He tried to remember to switch languages and found the process as difficult as it always was.

"Hi! Are you Sasha? I think we're dance buddies." He greeted with a warm smile. He looked down at her. She was pretty and wore a vibrantly colored dress that paired well with her makeup and complexion. She looked like she might have been thinking hardly about something or was still nervous from being on stage. He wished he knew a way to still her thoughts if either of those were true. Raphael wasn't a boy who knew how to talk to girls or to anyone really. He was outgoing but his appeal came from being unpredictable.

"I'm Raphael." He assured. He motioned for her to follow him and once they were where they needed to be he held his hands out in embarrassment. "I don't know how to dance." He admit. "Not like this. Mind helping me?"







 


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


    Raphael’s speech had been quite touching and as he spoke Naomi had gently taken Kiara’s hand in hers and given it a gentle squeeze, nodding in agreement with the young man’s words about the girl. “You both will dazzle like the stars, I count myself fortunate to witness such splendor.” She added softly, her world spoken like a cloud whisping across a breezy sky. She blinked at both of them, giving them a small closed-lip smile as they began to break apart slightly in order to avoid tripping over one another as they approached the stage. Her gaze which was often witnessed drifting peacefully from one thing to another remained steadily on her classmates as she felt the gentle thrum of her heart beneath her breasts as unavoidable worry leaked into her veins. She often found herself concerned for others, even over the smallest things. She had the utmost faith in Kiara and Raph but still she prayed to anyone listening that their presentation before the mass of watching eyes would be swift and easy. She would hate for any of them, and that included the members of the other schools, to suffer any sort of embarrassment.

    Luckily it seemed some unknown entity had decided to smile upon the trio as Raph and then Kiara were called to the stage. Both walked out and put on a display that Naomi felt rivaled the fiercest of models in the muggle world. Soon her own name was called and when she approached she crossed the stage with elegance, her light, layered soft purple gown fluttering out behind her with each step she took. A pale arm lifted smoothly through the air and she waved kindly towards those watching, her eye catching the familiar mask of the professor she had been speaking with. Upon spotting him her sweet smile changed ever so slightly to display a new warmth and she gave him the smallest of nods before unfocusing and returning her attention to the crowd. She didn’t seem to focus in on anything but as she walked away her attention was snatched by a rather beautiful arrangement of flowers and she delicately stroked the leaves, not caring that she was still crossing the stage and realizing that her actions might make it seem like she isn’t all there, not that she cares.

    Once the pale-haired young woman was back among her classmates she gave them both an affectionate blink. “You were both wonderful.” She began, her voice a pleasing purr as she glanced back at the flowers behind her. “Did you notice those lovely Gladiolus flowers?” She asked them quietly, the corners of her lips tilting skyward with an admiring smile. “Flowers of the Gladiators. Symbols of integrity, strength, and victory.” She spoke softly, almost to herself but still loud enough for Kiara and Raph to hear if they wanted. “A very fitting floral choice for such an evening.” She added with an appreciative nod of her head. “As we are certainly nothing if not akin to the gladiators of old preparing to wage war amongst each other for the entertainment of the masses.” Her words were light but the meaning behind them could certainly carry some weight as she spoke them. Gladiator battles had often been to the death in ancient Rome but here, while the tournament could be dangerous and even deadly, death was not the end goal. This was meant to be a challenge certainly, but one that in the end will have hopefully brought the wizarding world closer together through the cooperation of schools.

    Naomi remained by Raphael and Kiara’s side as the other students made their way across the stage. She supported each of them, watching Vasu as he put on his show and remembering just how fierce a competitor she was, something she appreciated about him. When the time came that everyone had crossed Naomi happily observed those who grabbed the attention of Kiara and Raph, clearly students they had met on the train. Her own gaze was soon searching the crowd for a familiar face and the first name upon her dance card. “Lanre.” She called, her voice still soft even as it was raised. Bowing her head in farewell towards her classmates she stepped forward until she was just a few steps away from the young man she had met on the train. “Lanre? May I have this first dance?” She asked with a gentle look in her eyes, as though she was still okay with him refusing even though the card had determined their fate.



    Mentions: Cha-Cha Aviator Aviator Raph captaindanger captaindanger Kiara WanderLust. WanderLust. Lanre pearjuice pearjuice



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 




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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 looked up in surprise at the sight of a vaguely familiar girl standing before him, asking for a dance. A second passed before he realized who she was and why she was asking him, a seemingly stranger, to dance. He smiled sheepishly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing it in embarrassment.

"Naomi. Right, of course. I'm not a very good dancer, so I'll do my best," He warned. Trying to remember just any of his manners, he waved for her to follow him and he navigated the both of them through the crowd to the dance floor. "How was the rest of your way here?" He asked curiously. "Mine was boring. I came with this guy, Theo, and he's nice, but we didn't have a lot to talk about. And that ride felt like forever after the train ride, right?"

Lanre was normally shy himself, but not only was he a person who talked a lot when he was uncomfortable or nervous, but he knew that girls especially tended to get a little shy around guys. In one on one interactions, regardless of the gender, Lanre found that his rambling seemed to work to make the situation less tense and helped the other person feel more comfortable so that way the conversation wasn't as forced. She had been quiet on the train like Sasha was, so if he had to guess she likely was shy too.

Once they were where the other groups had begun to pair up and dance, he stuck his arms and hands out, as if he didn't know what to do with them. He knew one hand or both hands were to go to her waist, and a free hand could go to her hand or shoulder; but he didn't want to assume one over the other was okay to do and make her feel uncomfortable. As a result, he chose looking inadept and unsure, allowing Naomi to grab or hold whatever she pleased. Once she did so, he begun to dance with her.



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© weldherwings.






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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.
    - Yours truly​






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Cosmo listened to the end of Lis' reply and smiled at him, listening to an older female voice tell everyone that the dance was beginning. He and Clara were both good dancers, though Cosmo's was less refined and more suited for less formal occasions. His confidence could carry him through just about everything thrown his way and he knew enough of the basics to feel alright in the dancing scenario he and his twin had been presented with. The only problem was that he hadn't met Zuri on the train and wasn't sure where he was likely to find her.

It was only when he had been looking around did he do a double take and take notice of her standing next to the giant, who had been introduced as a guy named Odinson. He and Clara had both been surprised to find that a giant was selected for the competition - not because of the race - but because he didn't know of any giants who had been in the tournament before. He wondered if the giant would be at a huge disadvantage for most of the competitions because of his size, or if it would be rather easy for him to get through most of what was to come.

He shot a wink to Clara and told Ricky, "Good luck, you got this," as if his sister wasn't right there, then left to go to Zuri and Odinson. He approached the two with a warm smile, and looked at both of them with an easygoing expression. "Hello," He addressed the two of them, making sure to talk a little louder so that Odinson could hear him from as high up as he stood. "I'm here to steal away Zuri for our dance."

Cosom's brown eyes looked over Zuri in a quick one over, having mastered the art of looking at someone without making them feel as if he were trying to mentally undress them - he never aimed to make women uncomfortable but knew that sometimes he did without meaning to, so he always tried to be careful around them. "You look beautiful; that dress compliments your eyes. You must have used the color wheel theory to pick your attire, and it is working for you." He said with a wink. He held his arm out for her to grab if she wanted.

"Shall we?"

//sorry for getting these up late, ill have amity and clara up in the next day or two. i have no excuse besides being really tired lol



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© weldherwings.
 
secondary
location
ilvermorny
mood
fine
outfit
click me~!
mentions
odinson and cosmo
zuri osei
Zuri looked over and saw a brown haired boy approaching them. She stared at him as he walked up and not bothered at all by her quiet and intimidating stare, he announced that he was there to take her dancing. She wasn't one to break traditions, but she really didn't like dancing. She didn't have any rhythm and didn't know most music that was popular, choosing to only listen to the few artists that she really liked and had liked for a long time. She took in his tan suit and smile and with a sigh, smiled tensely and accepted his extended arm.

"Thank you." She replied and walked alongside him. She could already tell he was going to be a chatterbox, and she hoped that it would help her nerves to have someone so talkative that she could not avoid conversing with them. She was normally the type to be really quiet, and didn't care if she made other people uncomfortable by not doing what they wanted her to do. But in a similar train of thought to Sasha's, there was no way to avoid making herself uncomfortable if she didn't engage with them outside of being forced to touch them.

"Your mask. It looks old." She didn't mean it as an insult, but it did. It looked like it belonged in a museum as an old relic or something Her eyes took in the patterns and design on it, already trying to figure out what it was and why he had it, and what it meant for him to have it for the dance. There were two war horses on the sides and minimal designs on the forehead and just below each eye. The middle looked like it was a family crescent of some type but she didn't recognize it.

"A family heirloom?" She asked as she struggled to move in tune with Cosmo's dancing. He knew what he was doing while she was failing. She murmured an apology when she stepped on his foot and bit her lip as a way to distract her from her nerves. She was good at everything, why couldn't she be good at something like this?
coded by natasha.


secondary
location
ilvermorny
mood
calm
outfit
click me~!
mentions
vasu and raphael
sasha golubev
Sasha took no offense to Vasu's dropped hand and pulled hers away a fraction of a second after he'd let go of hers, clasping them in front of her. Thankfully neither one said anything about it, or the steady pink that began to grow in her cheeks, a sensation she forgot about completely because the gravity of Vasu's answer to her question was something she had not anticipated at all when she asked her question. On a smaller note she tried to remember that he didn't visibly like the nickname the Daily Prophet had given him and hoped that she wouldn't accidentally use it again.

She remained quiet while the rest of the students took the stage and mulled over what Vasu had said. He was right about students having died in the tournament, but the importance he placed on feeling obligated to compete and win suggested something deeper than what he'd told her. She wasn't nosey enough to dig for a deeper answer but she hoped that whatever he was burdened with wasn't too heavy for him alone, and that if it was so big that two people should be holding it, that he would grow to allow her to help ease the load.

She wasn't close with Vasu, but they ran into each other occasionally at parties and they had overlapping friends. Especially lately now that Sasha was getting out of her shell. She had always admired him from afar but she was looking forward to getting to know him on a deeper level if he would let her in.

They split ways not soon after and she thanked him again for making her look good, and watched as he approached another blonde haired girl. She smiled at his bow. What a gentleman.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when a tall, curly haired boy spoke to her. "I am. It's nice to meet you, Raphael." She answered and followed along with him. They were pretty close to where they needed to be so it was a short walk and she laughed when he held his arms and hands out, similar to that of a toddler asking for help.

"Not at all." She assured. Sasha's hands led Raphael's to the right direction and together they began to sway. She wasn't a good dancer but she at least knew the steps and she quickly discovered that for the sake of a school dance, that it was all she really needed to know to get through it. Her dances wouldn't be as flashy or fun to watch as the others but she would scrape by without getting embarrassed.

"What house did you get sorted into here?" Sasha asked once Raphael nailed the footsteps and they set into a rhythm. She wasn't as shy as she used to be, but she could get talking to just about anyone if she really had to. Being face to face and holding hands with a strange was as good an opportunity as any to pass the time, and their dance would be uncomfortable if she didn't. But this person looked friendly and she was alright with the risk of him being a weird person.

coded by natasha.
 
Hogwarts Champion
location
Ilvermony Grand Hall
mood
Lethal and mischevious
outfit
Click Me.
mentions
Lanre pearjuice pearjuice and Cha-Cha Aviator Aviator
THEO WEST

Theodore West was not the type to prance around socializing and making friends unless absolutely necessary. Accordingly, he had kept to himself for a majority of the carriage ride to Ilvermony, exchanging passing words with Lanre only when needed, briefly discussing the names of the partners on their dance cards. Theo’s eyes perused the names on his own list, recognizing only two, much to his disappointment.

Ramona Bunker
Kiara Sinclaire
Clara Winter
Aurelia Quansah
Naomi Eun Hai

His eyes narrowed briefly as he pieced together that Clara Winter was the girl from the train earlier, the serial killer fan, he remarked silently to himself. The other name he recognized, Aurelia, was only vaguely familiar to him from years of international quidditch matches. For a moment, he briefly debated asking Lanre to trade with him, wondering if his peer had received any more viable options, but resigned to keep to himself.

Upon approaching the mismatched castle that, frankly, looked like it had been stacked together by a four year old with legos, Theo quickly decided that he didn’t care much for the American wizarding school. This decision was only reinforced by the absolutely horrid weather whipping at his pleated suit and desperately trying to entangle itself in his hair. When the wind suddenly ceased, Theo raised his head, his eyes scanning the throngs of students and professors wondering who had decided to display such empathy. At first, he had thought it was Lanre who had cast the spell, however, when he turned to the other boy his dark eyes were fixed on a girl in a blue dress several yards ahead of them who seemed like she was struggling to hide the fact that she had cast the charm. At Lanre’s loud expression of thanks, Theo cast a sideward glare at him as if silently reminding him that they weren’t there to make friends, but didn’t voice his thoughts aloud.

To his great excitement, Theo found that upon entering the castle there was yet another line. Great, more waiting. He practically growled with impatience, folding his arms over his broad chest as he watched those in front of him get sorted into their respective Ilvermony houses. He realized quite a few of the tournament crew had been sorted into multiple houses and couldn’t help thinking that that must’ve demonstrated a wishy-washy personality, or perhaps someone who was so unsure of themselves that they couldn’t make up their minds when prioritizing their values. Theo had a sneaking suspicion of which house he would be sorted into, and such inklings were confirmed upon his entrance into the circular corridor that housed the Gordian knot.

The growl of the wampus cat sounded to his left, the stone tail of the creature flicking into animation and a proud smile tugged at the edges of his lips as the crowd of onlooking Ilvermony students erupted into cheers. He was satisfied, but not surprised, to discover that most of his cheering fans were females, calling out not so subtle pick up lines and bordering on what he would’ve defined as catcalling. He didn't mind. In fact, he quite liked the attention and bent down to pick up a single white rose that had been tossed at his feet, tucking it into his suit pocket with a wink at its thrower before making his way back towards the other contestants who were gathering backstage for the ceremonial introductions.

He observed several other contestants primping themselves, making last minute adjustments to their hair and makeup before all eyes were on them, but Theo himself didn’t bother making any modifications to his own appearance. ‘Are you nervous?’ Lanre asked from behind him, and Theo didn’t hesitate at all before answering. “No,” he laughed with a smug smile. “And you shouldn’t be either. It’s an opportunity to introduce yourself - make them see what you want them to see.” Lanre was still dancing on the edges of Theo’s good graces. The other Hogwarts student hadn’t yet irked him enough to risk suffering Theo’s wrath. For now, they were allies, even if only circumstantial. He was glad to hear that the other boy wasn’t nervous as he didn’t particularly feel like offering any emotional support at the moment.

Their stage appearances were relatively uneventful. Lanre went first, and exhibited a relative ease that actually made Theo grateful to have such a capable secondary, because in his mind he already knew that Theo himself would be the champion. When Theo made his entrance, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers and an easy smile fixed itself on his lips, the kind of smile that eluded he knew he deserved their applause. He knew he was attractive, he knew he was powerful, he knew people wanted to root for him. Theo was the exact opposite of an underdog, he was comfortable in the spotlight and it showed in his every move. If anything, his cavalier walk across the stage established that he was certainly a favorite amongst the ladies, not to anyone’s surprise, he would find a way to spin that to his advantage later.

As he wrapped around the last curve of the stage, his molten caramel eyes landed on an all too familiar face, and that easy smile of his wavered for just a moment as he realized the ‘friendly demon’ sitting with the rest of the professors as if he weren’t a convicted serial killer. If his mental barriers hadn’t already been in pristine shape he would’ve started building a second layer just to ensure that Chahaya stayed the hell out of his head. Ice dredged its way down his spine as the unwelcome memory of his brother, Cassius, pried its way into Theo’s mind. He could still feel his older brother’s mental presence rake through his consciousness and it drew forth a visceral reaction that Theo had trouble swallowing down. In a moment, his wand was sheathed, and without so much as a word of warning he sent green sparks spiraling into the crowd. Pulled out of his daze, Theo’s eyes did not waver from his target as each spark began to explode in a firework display of brilliant emerald hues, one such explosion coincidentally detonating mere inches from Chahaya’s face, interrupting whatever conversation he'd been attempting to have with one of the other professors. All the while Theo watched on with a satisfied smirk as the crowd cheered for its new resident bad boy.

Had the legilimens attempted to squirm his way into Theo’s mind just then, he would’ve found nothing but black adamant, an impenetrable wall viciously guarding his consciousness from unwelcome visitors. Theo became vaguely aware of the sound of yelling behind the curtain, and it didn't take long for one of the staff members to eventually sneak her way on stage and attempt to usher Theo off, verbally reprimanding him for his display and threatening to have him disqualified for such acts of defiance. Of course, this only caused Theo's satisfied smirk to grow... and the already thunderous applause increased to a near deafening level, an unintended side effect of his vendetta. Despite the screams and cheers, Theo's eyes remained fixed on Cha-cha, not breaking eye contact until the last possible second, a silent challenge... an unequivocal threat.
coded by natasha.
 




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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​






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

Clara listened to Lis' reply but didn't give any indicator that she was paying attention to anything the group was saying. Really, it felt more like she'd heard noise rather than words - she was beginning to have an odd out of body experience that she hadn't had in years. It felt like she was floating above herself, watching everything happen but not paying close enough attention to register everything that was going on. She knew she had a bad temper, but she hadn't been this - well, whatever it was - in years. Probably since the last time she saw Ricky. Or no, the first time he had gone to their house to hang out with Cosmo since their fight. She had barricaded herself in her room and done anything to drown out the noise of him and Cosmo laughing together all night long.

What a long, lonely, awful night that had been.

Jacobson went on to tell everyone that it was time to dance, and Clara's heart thrummed in her chest. She avoided Ricky's colbat blue eyes like they were a salesperson approaching her at a muggle mall, knowing that she had no choice but to deal with him alone. She gave no reaction to his words, and had intended on following him until she felt her hand being grabbed. She snatched it away, finally blessing him with eye contact and glaring at him. "I can follow you." She said in a low voice that served as a warning.

She followed him, trying to ignore everything he said. She knew she likely wouldn't get out of the dance without exchanging some words with him, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him like she always had. He didn't deserve her kindness anymore. He didn't even deserve her coldness. He didn't deserve anything.

With practiced perfection, she raised her hand to go in Ricky's and the hand above the waist he held went to his shoulder. They had done a dance similar to that one many times before, both for fun and because they got bored and decided to learn it together. Clara didn't have to think twice about the way her body moved with his or keeping it in beat with the music. His hand on the fabric of her dress was firm without being so tight it was hurting her, his hand in hers as calloused as she remembered it being. A blip of a memory of him tending to a cut on her forehead made her chest unusually tight. Still, her expression remained unchanging.

She had done a good job of just staring at him without looking at him until he spoke. She blinked, her ghost finally going back into her body - only because she knew she was forced to pay attention now. They were literally dancing, but now she was metaphorically dancing with Ricky too. She'd clearly underestimated him before, and next time he wasn't going to get the chance to pull a fast one on her. Not very shockingly, the words that came out of his mouth were light and airy, as if he were trying to poke fun at the ocean he had put between them.

Is he seriously trying to joke with me right now?

She didn't want to answer, so she didn't at first, glaring holes into something just over his shoulder where she had been looking the entire time since they'd begun to dance. But a stiff silence had her internally screaming to say something, anything, because if she didn't say anything, it would keep her up at night thinking about what she should have said. Who knew, that would still probably happen anyway; but at least she wouldn't be cursing herself for doing nothing. That was reserved for Cosmo and Cosmo alone.

Fuck you forever.

She kept her eyes fixed over his shoulder, not even bothering to look him in the eye. Did she not want to or could she not? She wasn't sure.

"I assure you, there is no show you could put on that I am interested in watching." She replied, her voice still a lot darker than it normally was - she was going for bored, but there was just a little bit too much emotion in her short reply. Dancing across from Clara behind Ricky was the Barbie who had looked petrified to go on stage and a boy that sort of looked like Ricky. She chose to look at him instead, who was all smiles and laughter with his dancing partner, no underlying betrayals in sight.



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





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  • /* ------ 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.
    - Yours truly​






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

Cosmo politely took Zuri's body in his and began to move with her and the music. Sensing some stiffness and uncertainty, he paused their dancing long enough to shift them. He held his hands up in front of her, silently asking for permission to change her stance. When she didn't seem put off by it, he respectfully put a hand on each side of her waist and adjusted her stance to a way that he thought would help her. It seemed to work, a little bit - he still found her foot atop his but he did his best to make sure she knew he didn't care at all about it. He didn't like this part of parties either, preferring to have good conversation. So long as she didn't just stand there silently while he danced around her, they were going to be alright - and she was already asking him questions!

He laughed at her statement of his mask being old. Even if she had meant it to be offensive, he likely wouldn't have cared enough to be hurt by what she said. It wasn't his mask and it wasn't his choice for what to wear. It had been more or less shoved into his hands.

"It is," He answered. "Thankfully, it is the only attire I am wearing that I was not given a choice to reject."

He wasn't sure if it was because Zuri looked tough and intimidating or if it was because her first question had been one that came from her close attention to detail, but she already reminded him of Clara. He wondered if that meant she was capable of being picked as a champion. Not that Clara could be when he was her competitor, but neither of the Uaguado students had stood out to him, both seeming equally capable and strong in a way that didn't point to one of them having an advantage over the other. Except perhaps in a social stance, the other girl Aurelia had a better chance of winning over crowds than Zuri did - that was definitely something she and Clara had in common lately.

"What is your family like?" He asked, seemingly without much regard to it possibly being a trigger point or personal spot. When he asked these things he didn't always expect an answer and didn't push it when there were signs of discomfort. He knew what having a shitty family was like, or just one that he wasn't fond of bringing up on his own. Heck, that was why he was asking about her instead of elaborating on his.



/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */
© weldherwings.
 
Last edited:







Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Nervous






Location:


Ilvermorny






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Clara










He could tell that Clara was still angry. He told himself that was okay and that the real danger began when she was indifferent. His mom said that women who didn't care enough to fight no longer had anything they cared to fight about so at least Clara cared somewhere under that scowl that was etched into her pretty face. His smile remained in place as they danced. Thankfully it seemed that with the right dance partner he wasn't as clumsy or awkward as he had talked to Cha-Cha about being. He wanted to know if Cha-Cha was getting along alright with the other teachers but when it came to looking at anyone else or looking at Clara it was easy to pick her.

Ricky noticed that since the start of the dance she wouldn't look at him. When he tried to move his head to block her sight she moved out of reach of where he could turn. It made his smile bigger. That was familiar to him and was further proof that she was angry. He was going to need to charm her socks off. But how? He wasn't charismatic like her and he wasn't funny like she was. When she replied he could hear the anger too. If she was angry then maybe it couldn't get worse if he didn't think too long on his answers.

"You know you look pretty when you're ignoring me like that. But I do prefer any other of your looks."












Raphael

Beauxbatons Champion







Mood:


Pumped






Location:


Ilvermorny






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Sasha










Raphael made his arms and hands limp to let Sasha move him to where he was supposed to be holding and touching her. He kept a safe distance between their faces and smiled at her when she began talking. Raphael was a chatterbox who was difficult to make shut up so he was excited that someone wanted to talk to him instead of it being him bothering somebody else.

"I got Thunderbird. I dunno what it means though, my friend got distracted talking about flowers that make her a strong winner or somethin'." It wasn't accurate at all to what Naomi said but he only caught some of the words before their group split from getting off the stage to go dance.

"What did you get?" He asked while trying to make sure that he didn't kick her on accident or knock her over. She was really short compared to him and he felt as if he were dancing with a small child instead of someone closer to his age. She was pretty but the lack of height on her was confusing his brain.

When they got to a turn his hand on her tightened a little bit to guide her so she didn't fall. Kiara once told him that some girls didn't like falling in front of strangers. He thought it was funny and he always got a bellyache from laughing at anyone get hurt but he knew if it were him he would be embarrassed too. Her dress looked expensive too. What was the point of dressing up for a ball? And why did they all have to wear masks? It was stupid to have to go meet the competition and then only know what half of their face looks like.







 


  • Professor Birger Einar
    Durmstrang - Male - Pureblood - History of Magic Professor


    Sitting among the other professors Einar was more than pleased to watch the presentation of students while sipping on his flask. While wine was offered, and he did take a few sips, the old man was rather set in his ways when it came to his drink of choice. The Dragon Fire Whiskey he kept close at hand within his engraved flask was never ending but he also was far from a lush. He knew how to sip it, how to enjoy it, he did not use it as a crutch. These days it was just a pleasant way to warm his old bones. As he sat among the professors he politely smiled and offered each of them a sip by holding the flask out slightly. The offer was far from demanding but was instead a simple and friendly gesture between colleagues. When those who wanted took a sip and those who didn’t refrained Einar returned the silver cap to the flask and pressed it back into the inner robe pocket that lay against his chest.

    Returning his attention to the stage the old man held his cane in both hands before him and observed. As students were presented he took note of each face that crossed the stage, their name, and tried to find something to compliment each of them on in case he had the chance to speak with them. The students presented themselves excellently and when his own students strolled across the stage the old man felt a rush of pride, fatherly pride. Both of the Winter siblings looked like they truly belonged up there and he knew that they had earned their places in this competition despite what others may believe due to their wealth and status. There were students from all walks of life crossing the stage, and they all deserved their shot at competing because they had the courage to try at all. These games were far from a walk in the park and every day Einar feared Clara or Cosmo would end up hurt or worse. It was his duty to protect them but in the arena, there would only be so much he could do so he would need to make sure they were ready for anything.

    The presentation ended and soon the students were beginning to make their way around the room and mingle. Several were clearly trying to find their dance partners while others had clearly already found theirs. Looking over at Cha-Cha the old man gave a nod, “Do you dance my friend?” He asked, his blue eyes bright with curiosity as he awaited an answer. When Cha-Cha replied Einar chuckled and looked back at the dance floor. “I fear my students would turn red as toadstools if I were to enter the dance floor. As much as I may have enjoyed it in my youth, for their sake and sanity, I shall refrain from partaking in the dance myself.” He announced and leaned into his cane as he stood, bowing his head towards the other professors. “But that doesn’t mean I cannot mingle.” He added with a wink and strolled off.

    Walking around, the clinking of his cane muffled by dancing feet and beautiful music, the old man picked up a few sweets from a table and enjoyed them as they melted in his mouth. He cleaned his fingers on a napkin as he drew nearer to the punch bowl. With the dance having just begun the bowl was unguarded and unoccupied. No one was overly parched yet and he knew as a professor he would not be watched like a hawk the way the students were. Pulling the flask from his robes he quietly unscrewed the lid and while no one was watching he subtly poured a healthy dose of whiskey into the punch. “That should lighten the mood.” He chuckled to himself. Despite his age, there was still part of him that enjoyed being a mischievous trickster.



    Mentions: Cosmo, and Clara pearjuice pearjuice Cha Cha Aviator Aviator



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 




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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​






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

What was his game? She thought that he'd been so excited to try to bug her into forgiving him, but it quickly turned into her being dumbfounded by his apparently new goal of pissing her off. It was working and she didn't like that it was; however it was hard to fan the flames that he'd lit and she knew that if she continued to play, it would be a game she would lose. She had too many emotions in a setting that was far too public for them, with a person who could even rival Cosmo when it came to getting under her skin; an ability Ricky only gained once he had hurt Clara.

How strange to think that he was once her biggest weakness.

"Is that so?" She snipped sarcastically, her voice matching the frigidness of her eyes. "I'm afraid I won't be changing my appearance for anyone besides myself. But please tell me, how would you prefer me to look at you?"

Clara was catastrophically aware of what would happen if she played his games for too long because she was the mastermind behind it - when they had met, it had been her that teased Ricky endlessly - and over time, in her company, he learned to flourish and grow more comfortable. She was there for so many of his first experiences and he'd told her that he felt his best around her in a way that he couldn't be with anyone else. But she was still allowing it on some level, which was some silent indicator that she would hear him out even if she hated him, and she didn't want to listen.

Find a way to kill this, Clara decided. Be a big girl and ruin his perception of you so that way you can't go back and hurt each other again. Make sure you can't have him any more.

Sometimes she wondered if she waited for people to hurt her in the past, so that way when they did she would get to be smug about being right. She liked to think that she truly did care about those friendships, and deep down she did. Vasu was her first best friend and she had never done anything to intentionally hurt him or trick him into hurting her. They just stopped being friends because of some reason she wasn't aware of. Perhaps space or their families realizing what a nightmare they were together. She knew Vasu stopped going to the country club for a while but it didn't explain the letters he never replied to.

But everyone else besides him and Ricky, Clara expected for them to hurt her eventually. She didn't just come into the world with trust issues, though they did start at a young age thanks to her parents. The two people who made her and her brother, who expected everything to be grand from their kids, who didn't settle for anything less than what their standard was. A standard that was always harder on Clara than it was Cosmo.

'Why does everything I do have to be perfect?' She used to ask, back when Clara's first instinct wasn't to flinch at a hug, back when Clara didn't live by the rule of guilty until proven innocent.

'To make up for the fact that it is coming from you,' they used to answer.

And perfection she was. From the mastered expression of feigned disinterest to the picture perfect smile that she so often wore when with her parents, they could never say that she didn't put on a bloody good show for them when they asked. Perhaps she only wasn't as angry as she was in that dance with Ricky - her blood boiling and popping in rage, her hand on his shoulder twitching from refraining turning into a clenched, closed fist.



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© weldherwings.





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  • /* ------ sticky note letter ------ */
    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​






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

Amity was watching the students take the stage with interest when out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cha-Cha shift. Just as they made eye contact she shied away from it, choosing to regard the glass of wine that had just been brought to her - a glass she then rose to her lips and took a long sip of, if only to obstruct more of her face.

From what she could see over the rim of her glass, her old colleague didn't seem to look at her long enough to recognize her, which she took as a good sign. Maybe he would get too drunk to recognize her, and maybe she would be able to stay far, far away from him until she found a chance to pull him aside and ask nicely (or threaten, if it came down to it) for him to not out her real identity. He was much further into his drink than she was, to the point she wondered if he'd had any refills already, and if it had been more than one. If he was anything like he used to be, he drank cheap shit, he drank a lot of it, and then had to deal with the side effects of being a drunk and strong Legilimency wizard.

Not that it was her problem. She could shield her mind; he wouldn't see anything unless she allowed him to.

The colorful hues above his head changed color, and Amity's stomach clutched inside her body. She observed him, cautiously, then breathed a sigh of relief when he turned to a different teacher, one he knew from his own days as a student by the sounds of it. Next to her, Einar offered her a taste of his whiskey, and deciding that it wouldn't make sense for her cover to not be pleasant (and also knowing that if people thought she was drunker than she was, any slip ups she had with Cha-Cha would likely be excused), she took a swig of it, remembering to give him a polite "Thank ya!" before he went off to the dance floor, making a joke about how his students would be incredibly embarrassed if he went out there with him.

Amity decided that she wanted to flee the scene as well, if only to people watch certain people from a farther distance, but she didn't want to make it look as if she was following the Durmstrang professor specifically, so she hung back a couple of minutes and instead turned her focus back to the students, who were now beginning to dance.

There was a young boy, Vasu, who felt a little embarrassed from something, but after Amity recognized the blonde he was talking to, she wasn't worried; Gavy had a way of making people feel better just as much as she had a way of thoroughly putting people in their place or embarrassing them. Sometimes her personality was too much for people at first. There was a boy and a girl dancing, both who were incredibly nervous, the boy hiding it behind a smile. The girl he was with made Amity frown; she was rather angry for some reason, and judging from the lack of vibrant colors above her head, it looked as if she was not unfamiliar with such intense feelings. She decided to keep an eye on them, just in case she had to get involved. A little next to them was the other blonde girl and a brunette boy smiling and talking. Then there was one of the Uagudo students with the brother of the stressed to hell girl, and the rest of the visitors were still getting with their partners.

Once everyone was paired up, Amity decided to leave her spot. She half considered giving Cha-Cha something to chase but deciding that she had all night to talk to him and he actually seemed fond of whoever Kaz was to him, she didn't pay either professor much attention as she casually rose from her seat, glass in hand and walked out onto the floor to talk with some of the other teachers.


/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */
© weldherwings.
 
Last edited:







Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Nervous






Location:


Ilvermorny






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Clara










Ricky's smile broadened when she gave an answer that was laden with toxins and sugar. She wasn't happy about having to dance with him and he could tell. He knew she wasn't trying to hide it or that she couldn't. The tense line in her lips and avoiding looking at him was enough of a giveaway if not the steely voice she replied to him with. Clara still gave an answer with sarcasm though which meant that if he came up with something good then she might listen to him when he said he was sorry.

There weren't a lot of things someone in his shoes could do when Clara was seething because she held a grudge like no other and what he did wasn't a small mistake. For a year he tried to talk to her without any luck and she threw away or sent back anything that he sent her through the mail or Cosmo. She was stubborn too so it wouldn't be easy to show her that he was sorry and that he was better than who he was before their fight. But could he make her want to be friends with him again? Ricky wasn't sure if that was possible.

He knew that she wasn't looking directly at him but she could still see him so he pretended to mull over her question like it was one of the hardest things he would ever think about. He knew the answer right away, it was when she was laughing or angry with him. Both of those were inexplicably electrifying. He used to see her laugh all of the time and it was something he missed. She didn't laugh freely and being someone who got to hear it was a treat he took for granted when he heard it. Her real laugh was so much better than the dry one she used when she was out. It was unrestrained. Pretty. It was letting the salt of the ocean wash away the sand between your toes and the soothing chill of ice cream after a long day playing in the blaze of the sun. If her laugh was the cold needed on a hot day then her anger (when it wasn't over something that wouldn't end their friendship) was the sun. It was the magic behind the static when their hands touched and the energy he got when he watched her tinker with something and move with purpose to fix her frustrations. People could get sunburns from basking in its heat for too long but Ricky was very deprived of vitamin d.

Ricky's answer came out before he could filter his thoughts. "I must admit you are strangely enticing when you're angry." He wasn't supposed to say that out loud. But it was better to say that than say he liked her smile and her accuse him of lying even if she knew he wasn't. He didn't make a face at his answer and kept smiling like his mood for the night wasn't dependent on getting Clara's attention. Like he wasn't kicking himself for calling her hot in the first ten minutes that they were talking. Ugh. He couldn't tell Cosmo about this because it would fuel his belief that Ricky was in love with her. Lisandro wouldn't know what to do. He couldn't think of a way out of this so he was going to have to own it and hope that she didn't think he was making fun of her.




 
secondary
location
ilvermorny
mood
fine
outfit
click me~!
mentions
odinson and cosmo
zuri osei
Zuri took notice of the polite answer he gave about his family, hinting at some conflict that he didn't want to talk about. That was fine because she didn't want to know. Knowing her competitors too closely meant she would grow to humanize them and she couldn't afford to do that. But it was good to know that family may be a weak spot for him and his sister. It also insinuated that maybe some of his problems involve her. If Zuri had a chance she would have to put her theory to test that turning the siblings on each other would make it hard for them to work together.

The conversation was turned on her and she was quick to shut it down. She didn't care about making people uncomfortable so while she gave a firm answer, she did try to change the topic once more to something both of them would feel better talking about.

"I don't talk about my family." She said and made an odd step, more like a stomp, to avoid tripping. His grip tightened and she gave a thin smile. "Do you go to these a lot? You look like you know what you're doing."

Zuri didn't like to talk about her family because she didn't like them. She liked her brothers but her parents weren't great. Her mom and dad were always hurting each other and their kids too in the process. Her older brother moved out a while ago and now the task of protecting the younger kids in the house was up to Zuri. Her brother went no contact with their parents so she didn't get to talk to him a lot. She wasn't allowed to send letters but did so anyway while she was at school. Her mother cheated a lot and her dad was always angry about something. It wasn't a good combination but it gave her thick skin. Not a lot hurt her because of it. They made her tough.
coded by natasha.
 
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Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “Magnificent Bastard” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
​
Before Kazimir could respond, an ear-splitting whistling noise shook the Great Hall, reverberating off the stained glass windows and making them rattle in their panes. The Koldovstoretz professor’s pale complexion was bathed in sickly green light a half-second before a loud pop! detonated next to Cha-Cha’s right ear, causing him to flinch and nearly knock over his wine glass in the process. The acrid smell of smoke suffused the air as Cha-Cha whirled toward the stage, stuck between alarm and indignation. A dull ringing took hold in his ear as he locked eyes with the tall boy in a sangria suit onstage, because the boy was very much glaring in Cha-Cha’s direction with eyes as cold and hard as distant stars. Any question of whether the proximity of the explosion had been accidental was obliterated. He crossed the stage with a slow, predatory walk, shoulders shifting like those of a stalking cat.
A coldness started in Cha-Cha’s middle, spreading to his extremities. The crowd was clamoring in the wake of the student’s fiery display, but it was just muffled noise amid the shrillness in his ears. His eyes still fixed on Cha-Cha, the boy was nearing the edge of the stage, his steps slowing as if he were considering a public address. Instead, the curtain rippled, spitting out a gray-robed woman with a furious expression. She shooed the boy away as if he were a stray dog in garbage, harrying him across the stage. The audience went wild with laughter and applause, some of them stamping their feet in approval. Once the boy was gone, Cha-Cha stared at the place where he had last been, reaching for his Malbec without looking. I think I’ve found my first fan, he thought drily, taking a single sip from his glass.
Cha-Cha’s unharmed left ear was facing Einar, so he heard the Durmstrang professor when he spoke. The beefy gray-haired man was extending a flask of Firewhiskey toward him, which Cha-Cha wordlessly declined, wishing it were a cigarette instead. Wearing a wholesome smile, Einar jovially turned to Kaz and then the raven-haired woman sitting next to him with the same offer.
Fortunately, the rest of the introductions passed without incident. Headmistress Jacobson climbed atop the dais again to inform the crowd that the ballroom dances would begin imminently. An anticipatory buzz gripped the crowd as a quartet of musicians in white-tie attire swarmed the stage and readied their gleaming instruments. The students stood in an uncertain line at the fringes of the ballroom, no one wanting to be the first to take the dance floor, until Vasu Saini broke the nervous energy and strutted up to the purple-haired Ilvermorny girl with a surprisingly respectful bow.
Cha-Cha’s attention was drawn back to the table of professors when Einar asked him a question, berry-blue eyes twinkling. With a funny feeling, he noted how the Scandinavian man ended the question with my friend, as if they were old chums who hadn’t met just half an hour ago and Cha-Cha wasn’t a notorious former dark wizard. You’d change your tune fast if you knew who I was, buddy, Cha-Cha thought darkly, but he answered the question in a mild voice. “Unfortunately, I lack the bodily coordination that dancing requires. I would likely pose a hazard to the other dancers if I took the floor,” he admitted, the corners of his lips flickering into a tenuous smile. Einar tutted teasingly and informed Cha-Cha that he’d too be refraining from the dancing, if only to spare his students the embarrassment. “So what if they are? Oh, just think how the crowd would adore it, a grown man putting spry teenagers to shame with his moves,” Cha-Cha responded lightly. Einar chuckled at this, then rose smoothly, holding his cane more as a prop than a crutch. He peeled off from the table, the woman sitting next to him following suit hastily, as if she had pressing business on the dance floor and didn’t want to be held up by small talk.
Cha-Cha and Kazimir were left to their own devices, a gaping space in the table where their departed companions had been separating them from the other professors in a way that Cha-Cha couldn’t help thinking seemed symbolic. Perhaps it was the wine, but Cha-Cha wasn’t feeling particularly social. Or perhaps it was the fiery threat that the Hogwarts student had issued, having clearly recognized him. Either way, he idly swirled the remnants of his wine glass in his hand and drained it, content to watch from the sidelines. It was true that Cha-Cha was horribly clumsy and would likely make a fool of himself on the dance floor, but that wasn’t the only thing stopping him. Watching the students laugh and mingle and chatter, joined by some of the professors, Cha-Cha felt distinctly alienated. He was a former revolutionary and ex-con, and he was out of place amid the carefree cheer. Even as a student, he hadn’t had many friends in school due to a combination of a rigorous work schedule and his telepathic abilities making him feel… other from everyone else, unable to be understood. Somehow defective.
Cha-Cha was in the act of reaching for the wine bottle again, now one glass away from being killed, when the brisk snap of heels stopping in front of him caused him to look up. A woman in a bubblegum-pink dress and matching feathery mask stood there, dark hair coiffed around her head like a nest of snakes. “Mister Chahaya Arif,” she said in a rolling Irish brogue, “may I have this dance? Your reputation precedes you, and I’d like to snatch you up while I can.” She extended a hand to him. “Erin Joyce, professor of Divination at Hogwarts and head of Hufflepuff House.”
Cha-Cha finished his pour before responding, shaking the bottle’s last few droplets into his glass before relinquishing it. He used the time to choose his words carefully. “My apologies, Ms. Joyce,” he said finally, clasping the woman’s outstretched hand. Her embrace was firm. “But I don’t dance. My friend, however,” he said with a nod at Kazimir, “might oblige you.” Internally, Cha-Cha’s mind was working. Not only had the Hogwarts student recognized him but the professor too. He wondered if the two instances were linked, whether Joyce had revealed his identity to her students, since the boy would have been only five or six years old when Cha-Cha was incarcerated and unlikely to remember the scandal that had swept the Wizarding World.
Behind her feathery mask, Joyce’s eyes hardened. She retracted her hand with a snap, as if having discovered that the apple she’d bitten into was rotten and crawling with worms. Casting Kazimir only a glance, she wordlessly withdrew from their table, straight-backed with indignation, heels clicking sharply. “Making friends everywhere I go,” Cha-Cha muttered into his wine glass, searching for the familiar faces of Lisandro and Ricky in the crowd of students to distract himself.
The first dance commenced to a stuffy-sounding orchestral number, the girls flaring their skirts and boys swinging jacketed elbows. Not even a minute had passed since Erin Joyce’s huffy departure when she was replaced by a long-nosed man wearing a midnight-blue suit and maroon tie. A fedora with deep dents in the sides shadowed his deep-set eyes, peering out of a long face with an olive complexion and narrow mouth that sagged into a frown, which only deepened when Cha-Cha met his eyes. “Perhaps then you’d be open to conversation, Mister Arif, if not a dance.” It was a statement and not a question, spoken in a whiny voice with butchered vowels that suggested the man was from New York. His conspicuous lack of a mask indicated that he was Ilvermorny faculty and not a tournament representative.
Cha-Cha brushed a wisp of hair back with a careless flick of the wrist. “Please call me Chahaya. And it depends on the topic of conversation, to answer your question.”
“You’re a long way from home, Mister Arif,” observed the man in the navy suit. “Thailand, was it? Or Vietnam. Wherever it is, next time I suggest you read up on cultural customs before traveling. I’m not sure that your brusque mannerisms are appropriate for polite society here in America.” His flinty eyes raked Cha-Cha’s appearance. The man remained standing across the table from him, and Cha-Cha felt he was being looked down on in multiple senses of the phrase. “Or your suit. But that’s to be forgiven. Your mother was likely born in a tent house. How would you know any better?”
Beside him, Cha-Cha felt Kazimir bristle, ready to leap to his defense. Cha-Cha kicked his foot beneath the table. He wanted to field this one personally. After the targeted attack of the firework, his blood was boiling for a confrontation, just a little, and the alcohol fueled his vendetta. “Actually, my grandmother was born in a tent house,” he replied evenly. “My mother was born on a narrowboat.” He vividly remembered his first schoolyard scrap when he was six years old, during a game of handball when a boy on the opposing team had called his mother a whore. He remembered the satisfying crack of bone beneath his knuckles, of the frenzied cheer of the other boys as he wrestled his adversary to the asphalt and rained down blows on his ribs when he covered his face, and on his face when he covered his ribs.
The man’s lips twisted into a condescending smile. “Yes, of course. And no doubt only the sixth circle of hell could have birthed a ruffian like you. That’s the circle where heretics are punished, their soulless bodies trapped in flaming tombs. Or perhaps the eighth, the circle of fraud, where false prophets are condemned to wander with their heads twisted backwards on their necks, blinded by delusions of grandeur. Are you familiar with Dante’s Inferno, Mister Arif?”
“I find Dante’s writing dry and motivated by fear. More propaganda meant to compel God-fearing men to fulfill the Catholic agenda rather than real poetry,” Cha-Cha replied. “Personally I prefer the works of the Romantic Age.”
“Is that how you viewed your patients and followers, Mister Arif? Romantically?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but if you must know, I viewed many of them as victims of a pureblood agenda that seeks to oppress and perhaps even enact genocide on individuals viewed as lesser.” Cha-Cha took a measured sip of wine. “Much like the Catholic one, as history shows.”
The man in the fedora tilted his head, elongating the shadows across his face. “History also shows that those with misguided ideals and overinflated egos often die as martyrs. Rightfully so, if I may be so bold.” His voice was slow and deliberate and sharp, like drawing a rusted blade. Suddenly, his expression brightened. “Ah, where are my manners? I’m Marcello Bellini, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Ilvermorny. And dark they are, Mister Arif.”
Bellini offered his hand to Cha-Cha, but unlike his introduction with Erin Joyce, Cha-Cha did not accept it. Rather, he curbed the desire to spit in it. “Well, you clearly know who I am. And my whole life story, to boot.”
“I know lots of things, Mister Arif.” Bellini withdrew his hand with no external signs of discomfort, nothing to indicate that he hadn’t expected it to be ignored. Cha-Cha surmised that the gesture had been calculated to make Cha-Cha look bad to the observer when he refused it. “You fancy yourself the smartest person in the room, yet you are far from its only Legilimens. Just the only one with the moral turpitude to use his abilities at others’ expense. Are you familiar with that word, Mister Arif?”
“Moral turpitude,” Cha-Cha echoed, rolling the words around in his mouth as if they were a piece of hard lemon candy. “Good name for a racehorse. I’ll keep that one in the barrel.”
“You do that.” Bellini’s face hardened, lips pressing into a line at Cha-Cha’s flippancy. “Do try to get some more sleep at night, too, Mister Arif. You’re looking a little ragged around the edges. If you even can sleep.” He smiled, and it reminded Cha-Cha of the expression of a leopard as it licks clean bones. “Good evening, then. I’ll leave you to your eleven-dollar bottle of wine. It was a pleasure meeting one so… accomplished.” With a mocking tip of his hat, Marcello Bellini turned on his heel and sauntered off to join a well-dressed huddle of Ilvermorny professors with glasses in their hands, stealing glances at his and Cha-Cha’s exchange.
“And now I’ve found my second fan,” Cha-Cha murmured in an undertone that only Kazimir and himself could hear.
 
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Odinson LocJaw
"The Young Giant"
Mood: Proud and Headstrong Year: Ten Location: Ilvermorny Role: Champion Outfit: Clickers
Sticking the tip of his Wand to the exterior of his clothing, it erupted into flames, transforming into a well-taylored suit. A stiff matte black dress jacket, Tie, and pants with a well ironed white button-up shirt underneath to match. To say the least the kid knew the bare minimum, only what the professor who had made his arrival just a few days after Odinson had made his own. Apperently he would have to walk into a large auditorium and be sorted into a house, of which there was four; much like at Hogwarts. There was the Thunderbird. This house mascot apperently represented the soul, and highly preferred those with adventurous spirits. Secondly; The Wampus Cat. Said to represent the body it preferred those who were warriors. The third house was the Horned Serpent; It represented the mind, it favoured scholars. The fourth house, the final. It was the Puckwudgie. It represented the heart, loving those who were healers. The one that had caught Odinsons eye, however, was the Wampus. As far as he could tell it was the only one the young male had any chance of being selected by.

Almost immediately after opening the doors to the large hall he knew he was late. The other schools had already been sorted and were already getting ready to head off to the main stage. Without thinking the boy rushed to the knot in the centee of the room, but before he could even get there the Wampus let out a loud, deafening, bone shattering roar. But to Odinsons surprise, the Thunderbird had begun to beat its wings. "Well isn't that interesting." He thought to himself, ultimately deciding to join the wampus house. Following the line he towered over all, getting a perfect view of the crowd. Though, it was only when he cuaght a glimpse of a tall, older man that he would feel the need to finally put on his mask. The man was also known as Einar, and he just so happened to be Odinsons lifelong idol.

Later on the boy noticed a girl walk up to him and say hello. Though before he could even answer yet another student came up to them, only he was there for the girl, apperently the dance was starting and they were parteners. The boy was on the average side in terms of height, though well structured in muscle, his suit clinging the the broad shoulders thar were gifted to him. Though, with the help of that reminder Odinson took a look at his dance partners.

1. Kiara Sinclaire
2. Naomi Hai
3. Ramona Bunker
4. Sasha Golubev
5. Zuri Osei

Now the only issue was figuring out who this Kiara Sinclaire gal was, not to mention all the others on the list. It must have been then that some sort of higher power heard Odinsons cry for help as suddenly his eyes locked with the only other person on the dance floor without a partner. Seemingly without a thought going through his head he walked up to her and put forward his hand. "You must be Kiara. May I please have this dance?" The giant asked.

Mentions:
Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1 - Einar
thundercloud611 thundercloud611 - Zuri
pearjuice pearjuice - Cosmo (vaguely)
WanderLust. WanderLust. - Kiara​
 







  • lisandro valencia
    castelobruxo champion

    L
    is had been a bit overwhelmed by Ricky’s introduction to the Durmstrang students and his explanation of who they were. He did recall Ricky telling him a bit about Clara before – but Lis hadn’t expected that to come up now, so he’d been trying to keep up quickly and make a good impression on Ricky’s friends at the same time before they were rushed away.

    Then, after all the student introductions were over, in the brief moments of mingling before their dances, there the twins were again, with a more formal introduction this time. He shook Cosmo’s hand, hoping his own wasn’t too sweaty, “It’s nice to meet you!”

    Lis wasn’t always sure what to say when meeting new people, especially friends of his friends. He felt sometimes like he was entreating on their world more than he should – especially with people who had so much history with Ricky. Lis couldn’t help but notice the girl – Clara’s – glare towards Ricky, and her uncomfortable body language. It made him nervous, if only because he was bad at handling conflict. He looked back at Ricky when he addressed him directly.

    “Well, not exactly. I met one of the Uagadou students, Aurelia, but I didn’t really find anyone else.”

    Lis found the energy between Ricky and Clara to be a bit weird and tense, so he was almost glad when they had to part ways to finally go dance. He hoped the energy wasn’t an omen for how this year was going to go, but it might as well have been. His palms were sweaty by the time he’d made his way over to Aurelia – he quickly wiped it away on his pants. Just take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other, Nestor’s voice from years ago echoed in his mind, back when his mother was first hosting parties, expecting her young children to make an appearance. The dancing didn’t come until after Nestor had left – Lis had had to learn that all on his own. He took a deep breath and smiled through his nerves. He’d at least already met Aurelia before – this dance would be the easiest of the night.

    He stepped towards the young woman and smiled.

    “Fancy meeting you again,” he joked as he approached the lion-masked young woman as she stood by herself on the dance floor and the music started. He extended his hand towards her and, as she took it he pulled her a bit closer and put his hand on her waist. He always felt a bit out of place dancing with girls who were taller than him (so, a lot of them) – he knew girls usually preferred it when you were taller. He didn’t really have to worry about that in the dating world, but it still wasn’t great on the other side of the coin.

    Luckily, he wasn’t a bad dancer. His first few steps were a bit clumsy – he was rusty, as his attendance to his mother’s parties had been dwindling in the past year, even before he found out about Nestor. They had become overwhelming to him as for the past school year he’d been distancing himself from his friend group a bit, and many of them and their parents attended said parties. But he found himself keeping up with the dance surprisingly well – when he’d pictured this moment a thousand times over the summer, he pictured himself stomping on his partner’s feet, tripping over nothing, running into the other dancing couples, making a fool of himself in front of the whole school. Instead, it was just a dance.

    Albeit a dance where he felt a million eyes staring straight at him, but he tried to not entertain the thought lest his luck run out in the first one of the evening. He did find himself glancing around the room at the other couples twirling around them, a crowd of flowing gowns and masks, and his eyes landed on some of the more showy students, like Vasu, who was dancing with a colorful Ilvermorny girl, and Theodore, who’d made quite the show of his entrance, throwing flames in his professor’s face (what exactly had he been playing at?).

    They worried Lis, these students who seemed to have no real problem making these wildly public feats. They seemed like they were chomping at the bit for this fame, this recognition. It made him wonder why he was even here – if he got picked to be champion, was he even any match for these people? Or would he fall apart at the first sign of conflict, like he suspected many people assumed he would?

    His attention turned back to Aurelia, realizing he should probably speak to her before their time was over and he had to move on to a strange new face. “What are your thoughts on the competition so far?”




    location:
    dancing with Auri




    interaction:
    Cosmo and Clara pearjuice pearjuice Ricky captaindanger captaindanger and Aurelia Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1




    feeling:
    more at ease

 




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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 could feel her blood boiling stronger and stronger as time crawled at a painfully slow pace. She was pretending to be interested in her brother's dance and those around them, but she was still excruciatingly apprised of Ricky's smile and then his pensive expression. What the hell was he getting at? She hated being just outside of his train of thought. Back in the day she used to be able to make an educated guess on what he would say or do, but with a lack of communication it seemed she was just on the outside of knowing, which left her in worse shoes. He could've been taunting her, trying to ease the tension that a knife couldn't cut, he could've been spewing nonsense just because he had nothing better to do. And she had not a clue as to which it was - all of them were rather possible.

The muscle under her hand and his hand in her other one were not giving her much to work with, either. It seemed that he was skillful at masking his feelings if that was what he intended to do. She couldn't feel him tensing or flexing, only that perhaps his arm was getting tired from holding hers up - but that was to be expected, and she knew it would get worse as the night went on. Everyone was scheduled five students.

Ricky's voice gave an answer, and it startled her so much that she blinked, frowned, and then turned her head to look up at him incredulously.

Is he being serious?

She studied his face like was some analytical error on a computer that she was trying to decipher, but only found a smile that wasn't in her catalog of faces that she recognized. Clara didn't know what to think. She and Ricky had enjoyed messing with each other, and he often enjoyed riling her up and she him, but if he thought he could dance his way back into her life, he was dead wrong. Still, the unexpected compliment and the confidence it was said with made her cheeks turn pink. She felt the familiar heat prickle at her skin above her neck, but she narrowed her eyes as if it wasn't happening at all.

Arrogant ass.

She wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't end with her trying to throw him through a wall or at another person. It wasn't normal for Clara to not have something arrogant or rude right at the tip of her tongue to say, but her bizarre interaction so far was so confusing that she didn't know what to say or do. He knew that she didn't want to talk to him, yet he was still trying to talk to her.

"And you are just strange." Clara snapped. "Take a hint, Pintaga. This is the first time I've been forced to look at you in years and it's because of school. I'm not interested in whatever you're getting at."



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© weldherwings.





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  • /* ------ 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.
    - Yours truly​






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Cosmo was able to move his foot just in time to avoid Zuri trampling over it; an action that he did his best to not laugh at despite thinking the way she had moved was rather funny. He didn't want to embarrass her or make it seem like he thought it was funny that she couldn't dance when the humor he found was more in the action itself. He could hear the tension in her voice, indicating that family wasn't a topic she was very fond of discussing either. That was merry with him.

He took notice of her thin smile, and sensing that maybe talking and trying to dance was too much for her to handle, he decided to give a longer answer, if only to save her from actually having to listen.

"Unfortunately, yes." He replied, maneuvering them so that way Zuri didn't kick the side of a table that was dangerously close to her warpath. "Dancing is not a tool I consider to have under my belt - I am good enough at it, but not skilled. My family always tried to teach me how to be better but it isn't something I picked up on. It didn't click for me."

He lifted his arm and let Zuri twirl under him before putting his hand back on her waist. "I love parties and events such as this one. I don't like going to them for my family though," He went on to explain. "They want my sister and I to be people that we are not, and as the heir of the family name, the pressure is high. Going to those parties and being unable to be authentically me is draining. I'm sure you understand." Cosmo guessed, giving Zuri a knowing smile. Really he didn't know what her life was like, but it was easy to assume that people with family problems never had arguments over things that could be resolved in a week or less; they were usually problems that were much bigger and resulted in everyone involved hating each other to a degree.

That's what it was like with his family. He only recently started to see the messed up stuff his parents were involved in, but his relationship with his mom was the worst. Neither he or Clara liked their mom now that Cosmo wasn't in his bubble of delusion; something that Mrs. Winter knew and hated. She was trying to buy back his respect but it wasn't working. To make matters worse, Clara wouldn't accept any of his apologies when he finally came to his senses.



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© weldherwings.
 


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


    The buzz of excitement was like a drug to the young woman as she made her rounds from group to group getting to know those she could and welcoming them to Ilvermorny. It might not be her job to act as the welcoming community for the school but with getting to meet new people and the energy of the evening like lightning in her veins she was more than happy to take up the mantle. Her long locks were a magnificent tie-dye rainbow of purples and blues with hints of sunny yellow appearing here and there. To any unaware it might seem as though some sort of hair styling potion had gone horribly wrong yet somehow Gavy pulled it off and clearly didn’t care about any looks others might cast her way. Perhaps one day her metamophmagus abilities won’t give away her feelings so freely but to a point the young woman actually liked it. Those who mattered to her would understand what each color means which keeps her honest, and those who don’t know just think it is a fun parlor trick, no harm done. Sure, someone could try to use it to read her but to a certain extent, the young French-American was already an open book. Yes, she could keep secrets and had her own private history locked up tight but aside from that she was very open regarding her feelings, both verbally and physically.

    When a few words uttered by Ramona grabbed her attention away from a nearby group bright electric blue eyes followed her classmate's gaze towards a young man she remembered from the stage. Without needing to glance at her dance card again she knew who he was, he made is entrance rather memorable after all. When he approached she took in his formal bow and did her best to meet it with a curtsy that was pretty decent as far as curtsies go. “I can’t think of a better way to start my night.” She purred with a playful wink as she took his hand. “Vasu, right? Am I saying that right?” She asked as the two of them walked towards the dance floor and she waved goodbye to Ramona. “I heard them say it on stage but I know they can sometimes butcher names.” She added as he responded to her question, giving him a friendly smile. “You can call me Gavy if you’d like. Gavriel is kind of a mouthful and Ms. Sylvie feels far too formal. Though you do have impressive manners.” She continued casually and placed her hand on his shoulder while his took residence at her waist. Like many students here she had a feeling this night was going to be all about strategy and preparation for the tournament for Vasu but that didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge him in harmless conversation. She was also getting a read on the others, seeing who she was likely to face, and guessing how she would fair. Vasu seemed to be proper, formal, the way he held himself was one she knew well from some of her Ilvermorny classmates. He was someone of status.

    “So, Vasu, you were sorted into the Wampus house. Are you surprised?” She inquired casually as they danced in step with one another while an instrumental melody filled the ballroom. Luckily for her, she had had the foresight to seek out dance lessons from her father over the summer. When the mention of the games fell upon her ears she eagerly brought it up to him and he was all but jumping out of his chair to have a reason to dance with his daughter. Turns out that the artist of a man was not only skilled with magical murals but had quite a set of dancing feet too. The two of them had spent hours dancing in their little home, on the beach, and even on his friend's fishing boat. It was a time in her life she would always look back on with fondness. He had unfortunately missed so much but now they were making new memories together and certainly making up for lost time.



    Mentions: Vasu Aviator Aviator



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 
KIARA SINCLAIRE
BEAUXBATONS SECONDARY
Confident and excited
Ilvermorny Grand Hall
Raphael, Naomi and Odinson FROSTBITE4395 FROSTBITE4395
Click Me!



When Kiara took her first few steps onto the stage she breathed a sigh of relief. The worst part for her was always the anticipation, wondering whether she would trip and fall… or worse, if someone would notice her bare feet. For the most part, she was pretty comfortable on stage. In fact, she liked when all eyes were on her, but this competition simultaneously brought out the best and the worst in people, and Kiara was determined to make a good first impression. Her dazzling blue gown fluttered elegantly behind her as her hips swayed in a confident saunter across the length of the stage. The fabric of the dress was thankfully more than long enough to prevent anyone from noticing Kiara’s lack of shoes. Being one of the first candidates to be introduced to the audience meant most of the crowd’s members were still holding their breath, the anticipation palpable. Not enough time had passed for anyone to grow bored or disinterested. Instead, the audience chattered and cheered as the dark haired girl let a playful smirk dance across her features.
‘Look at her dress!’
‘She’s in Thunderbird like me!’
‘Do you think she’s dating the Beauxbaton’s boy?’

Kiara could vaguely pick out tiny snippets of the hundreds of distinct conversations voiced between the resident Ilvermorny students. One in particular caught her attention though, a wolf whistle from somewhere off to stage left. Her head snapped in the direction of the noise, and for a fraction of a second her easy smile faltered into a look of mild annoyance as her eyes landed on the perpetrator, who was being patted on the back by his friends as if having the audacity to whistle at her was some great accomplishment. Determined not to let the incident reflect on her, she brushed it off, simply blowing a kiss at her admirer and circling back up the stage like she was a model on a runway. Not too shabby, she thought to herself.

Once she was backstage again, she couldn’t help the cheeky grin that radiated on her lips. Her introduction had gone excellently, and although she already wanted to start jumping for joy she forced herself to remain composed. She was still beaming when Raphael and Naomi found her, each congratulating her and declaring they were, in fact, the best team in the competition. She wrapped her arms first around Raphael, softly pressing her lips to his cheek. “You guys were amazing!! Je suis tellement fière de toi!” and then she embraced Naomi, “And YOU! Your shoes are fantastic, I need a pair like that.” Kiara laughed, bending down to get a better look at the botanical fashion as Naomi began explaining the meaning behind the chosen florals for the ceremony.

While Kiara was bent over admiring Naomi’s shoes she heard the voice of a woman with a thick american accent announcing the start of the formal dances. She looked up at Naomi with a reassuring wink before the blonde took off to find her first partner. Raphael followed suit shortly after, going to find the sweet blonde from earlier who had offered to trade shoes with Kiara. Rising back to her feet Kiara reached for her small clutch, which at the moment held only her wand, her bowtruckle, Twiglet, and her dance card. As her fingers pried open the metal clasp, she stared down in horror as Twiglet looked back at her with folded arms and a protruding tongue, her dance card torn to unrecognizable pieces in her purse. “Twig! Are you kidding me?” She let out a frustrated growl as she attempted to read one of the shredded up bits of paper, but it was no use, the letters were completely illegible.

As couples continued to pair off for dances Kiara struggled to remember the names that had been on her dance card. Theo something? Cosmo from the train? But what order had they been in? Who was she supposed to be dancing with now? She began looking around, trying to use process of elimination to decipher who her partner was. Thankfully, the hulking candidate from Mahotokoro was approaching her with an expectant look in his eyes. The low rumbling of Odinson’s voice caused Kiara to look up from her clutch in which Twiglet was still obnoxiously blowing raspberries, and her eyes kept going up and up and up until they landed on the giants handsome face.

You must be Kiara. May I have this dance?

She silently snapped her clutch shut with one final glare at Twiglet. “I am, and you may.” A sweet smile painted itself on her lips as she did a quick little curtsy before pausing. “But maybe first…” with a delicate swish of her wand she cast the reducio charm, and the giant before her slowly shrank down to a much more manageable 6’4”. He still stood a foot taller than her, but this would make dancing far easier. “There that’s better.” She winked playfully as the music began to swell. “I think that’s our cue.” Kiara gently took Odinson’s hand, guiding it to her silken clad waist as he still seemed to be adjusting to his new size. He didn’t seem to know much about dancing but that was okay, Kiara didn’t mind in the least. Personally, she adored dancing and was quite familiar with the steps. Her dance teachers back in Romania had often chastised her for attempting to lead her male partners instead of vice versa, but Kiara paid it very little mind.

“So tell me about Japan! This is my first time outside of Europe but I’ve always wanted to see the world…” their conversation was interrupted occasionally by a choreographed twirl or dip, but the duo hadn’t yet missed a step, at least not noticeably. “My family raises dragons back home.” She continued, “but I absolutely adore pretty much all magical creatures… except Acromantulas.” An involuntary shiver trailed down her spine at the thought. “I know they’re exceptionally intelligent but I can’t get over the creepy crawlies.” She finished with a laugh. “What about you? What’s your favorite creature?”


coded by natasha.
 







Ricardo

Castelobruxo Secondary







Mood:


Nervous






Location:


Ilvermorny






Outfit:


Click me!







Interactions:


Clara










"You know if you blush any more..You may stay that shade for eternity." Ricky retorted. After a spin he dipped her really low and whispered in her ear like it was a secret just for the two of them. "Not that I mind. You know I've always loved you in red."

What was he saying? Words were firing out of his mouth before he could think about them and stuff them back down his throat. He was joking as if nothing was wrong between them but it was only happening because he was nervous. This was something he always hated about Clara. She was intimidating and cool and pretty and all of the things that made a boy like Ricky stupid. He was an idiot when it came to her. It was something he thought she found endearing because she always applauded him for speaking his mind and being real to himself. But it was getting him in trouble. She wasn't being receptive to his humor.

He pulled her back to her feet and smiled like he wasn't clawing around the depths of his mind for something to talk about. Something that Clara would reply to. Cosmo or any other family was a no go. Friends they shared was probably off limits too. It didn't leave many other people but Ricky didn't want to talk about himself and not hear anything else from her.




 
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Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​
It was like staring into the sun, so strong and bright Gavriel Sylvie stood. She radiated light and energy, from her effervescent greeting to the iridescent folds of her gown cycling through a spectrum of colors as she spun onto the dance floor. She talked fast and walked fast, and the air where she’d been standing a half-second before was fragrant with mint and white carnations. She winked at Vasu in a way that indicated familiarity, as if he were a friend whom she hadn’t seen in quite some time but had unexpectedly run into through serendipitous circumstances. But Gavriel glowed with such vibrance that Vasu was certain he’d remember a previous encounter with her, and he was uncertain how to respond to her friendliness. It was the beginning of the first dance, and he was still figuring out the rules of this social gathering. Semi-formal events threw him for a loop, because to different people there were different interpretations of the codes of behavior. He didn’t want to err on the side of casual and break a rule at the foreign host school and have a black mark against his name for the duration of his stay here. He preferred more structured events, with unambiguous expectations.
He was relieved when Gavriel took his hand. In India, it was considered rude for a man to initiate contact with a woman; even a handshake was taboo unless the woman was the offering party. “Yes, you are,” Vasu said, confirming her pronunciation of his name in which the a almost sounded like an o, like the words father and water. Vasu was far from timid, but it was hard to resist the feeling of being sucked into Gavriel’s maelstrom of motion. There was no pause between her crossing to the dance floor with him in tow, firing off her question, and whirling halfway around to wave goodbye to her school partner without breaking stride, all of her movements decisive and fluid. Whether or not she was a good dancer, Vasu knew that she wouldn’t be the type to depend on him to lead.
He nodded politely at her invitation to call her Gavy, though he doubted he would. There was an eccentric handful of professors at Koldovstoretz who invited students to call them by their first names, but it always felt like a trap to Vasu, so he refrained. With Gavriel being an international competitor, the circumstances felt similar. Maybe not a trap because Gavriel lacked the power to send him to detention for breaking decorum, but they were opponents, so he thought it best to show her propriety. He accepted her compliment with a bland “thank you,” though Vasu had never thought his manners to be particularly exceptional; just the decent thing to do in most social situations. It made him wonder how the behavior of American boys differed, but the question felt like a rude one to ask, so he didn’t.
Deciding on a suitable spot on the dance floor, Gavriel whirled to face him, her face bright with a smile that was more than just polite. She took his left hand in her right one, and knowing what came next but not wanting to touch her without permission, Vasu asked, “May I touch you?” Gavriel’s smile widened, as though Vasu had made a joke that he was unaware of, and answered in the affirmative. There was nothing about her bubbly demeanor that made him expect her to say no, especially given the necessity of contact for dancing, but he was still glad for her permission. Otherwise, they were both in for a very awkward dance.
The lights dimmed. An expectant hush fell over the ballroom once all the couples had found positions on the floor, broken only when one smartass in the crowd loudly hissed, “SHHHH!” after everyone had already quieted, disturbing the peace and eliciting a few giggles. Then a conductor bedecked in a red velvet suit lifted his hands, and the quartet of musicians lifted their gleaming instruments in unison. A prim smattering of violin notes kicked off the first song, and the dance floor burst into simultaneous motion. Vasu stepped forward with his left foot as Gavriel stepped back with her right, wanting to take the first dance slow and easy until he got a feel for the rhythm of the music.
Vasu wasn’t an exemplary dancer and he’d never received formal lessons, but over time, when you participated in enough school musicals where at least minimal dancing was required for all roles, you learned the basics. So long as the footwork wasn’t overly complex, he could pull it off. Ballroom dancing felt like sustained stepping to him rather than actual dancing, but he was grateful for the simplicity so that he could divide his attention well enough to still converse with Gavriel.
When the lights flashed back on, they weren’t the same pearly bright ones as before. Rather, one half of the dance floor was bathed in overlapping blue and green beams, the other half dyed red and orange. The crowd oohed and ahhed, and Vasu glanced over to see what they were admiring. The tablecloths shrouding the long dining tables, seemingly plain white linen a minute ago, transformed so that neon-yellow patterns were now visible, contorting in a variety of psychedelic shapes. The centerpieces, elaborate floral arrangements with only the brightest of blooms, glowed in a fluorescent rainbow like an aquarium of overbright fish. Even the champagne flutes and wine glasses shifted to a deep cobalt-blue hue, and the catering staff, wearing gray robes moments ago, were now cloaked in forest green.
Impressed with the transformation of the ballroom, Vasu looked back to Gavriel, her pale skin seemingly flushed rose in the warm crimson light that fell over her. Her features expanded in wide-eyed earnestness as she asked Vasu his thoughts on the outcome of his Sorting Ceremony. They performed another four-step sequence as he reflected on the question, having been prepared for superficial small talk instead of something so introspective. Gavriel was a good dancer, gliding smoothly over the dance floor as if the long skirt of her dress were hiding wheels rather than feet, and she fortunately stuck to conventional moves rather than try to show off with something complex. Vasu wasn’t uncomfortable on the dance floor but it wasn’t his forte either, so he was content to let her lead and shadow her movements.
“Wampus is the warrior house, right? At least, I remember reading that in Ilvermorny: A Magical Melting Pot,” Vasu replied. “Maybe a little surprised, because I’m scared of stuff with the potential for danger. Just a few minutes before you found me, I was telling my school partner, Sasha, that going onstage is the least of my worries when there’s a risk of dying in the actual challenges. So yeah, I’m kinda a wuss that way.” He gave Gavriel a self-deprecating smile, deciding it best to come off as humble and unassuming. Vasu remembered the Wine Man’s disapproving glare in the carriage, warning him to play nice. As annoying as Vinogradov was at times, Vasu had read the underlying message: Throwing his proverbial weight around would not be well-received in the public eye, and it was too early to make enemies. There would be plenty of time for that in the arena.
Vasu was just about to politely return the question and inquire about Gavriel’s house when a canary-yellow tendril snaked through hair that had previously been the color of plums. He wondered if it was a trick of the light, but when he glanced around, there were no multicolored streaks in anyone else’s hair. She caught him staring at it, and her smile bubbled over into a laugh. And Gavriel Sylvie suddenly got a lot more interesting when she proclaimed herself a Metamorphmagus.
Deciding that Gavy was not the type to be easily offended and he could have some fun with her, Vasu said, “Well, not to brag, but… Oi can do a similar fing wif me voice!” in an exaggerated Cockney accent. “They neva e’spect ta ‘ear Bri’ish comin’ from a brown lad like me, buh they’d be wrong. I’m a ‘Ogwarts student, frough and frough. Gryffindor, thee Sortin’ ‘At said.” Instead of questioning his transition, Gavriel smiled and played along, adopting a Cockney accent herself. She and Vasu babbled meaninglessly to one another in a variety of accents, switching to Russian and French when they’d exhausted Cockney. A few couples shot them bewildered looks in passing, which caused the both of them to break down in chortles and resume their accents even more boisterously. “Zey arrre jealllous,” Vasu rumbled in a slow, dark voice, “zat zey do not stand chance against Mahzer Russia in tourrrnament! Zey shall perrrish, trrragically.”
When the first song ended, Gavy and Vasu had graduated to German accents. “Tschüss, Fräulein,” he bade her, having thoroughly enjoyed his nonsense conversation with Gavy and a little reluctant to part ways. While it’d taken a few minutes to warm up to her, she was refreshingly off the cuff and genuine, having had no expectations for Vasu or feeling the need to put on airs for him. He’d consider himself lucky if half his remaining partners were so easy to get along with. With another disarming wink, Gavriel Sylvie smiled and disappeared into the crush of students at the center of the dance floor, where the four circles of multicolored light skirted each other, forming a perfect diamond of darkness. Vasu remembered the next name on his dance card without having to glance at it: Aurelia Quansah, Uagadou. Vasu remembered her from her introduction, the girl with long braids and a lion mask. Seeing that she and her first dance partner, a short boy with dark skin and a nervous tension about him, had yet to separate, Vasu lingered at the edge of her peripheral, not wanting to interrupt their moment.
 


  • Aurelia Quansah
    Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary


    As odd as it might seem for having only just met the young man a few hours ago something within Auri felt almost at ease to have her first dance with him. It seemed rather fitting, in a sense, that since he was the first of the competitors she had met since the day began she would take her first steps on the dance floor with him. At first, he seemed nervous and hesitant, so she did her best to be warm and open to him, covering the slight errors in his first few steps with her own graceful movements. She could understand the pressure of many eyes and how it might lead to a misstep or two on the dance floor, it happened to everyone whether they liked to admit it or not. After the first few steps though Lis seemed to find himself in the music and the movement, his dancing quickly becoming elegant as the two remained in sync with one another. Auri had spent many days and evenings at social gatherings that involved all manner of dance so this was something she found felt very natural to her. She couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Lisandro might have some sort of similar background based on how familiar dancing seemed to be to him. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him at the Mauritius Island Sanctuary or other social events she had attended in other countries but then again she didn’t attend every party and she certainly didn’t talk to every face at such massive events. It was quite possible that in the past the two might have simply missed each other at social gatherings since she tended to stay close to her mother and grandmother.

    “Hard to say.” She admitted with a slight chuckle. “Let’s just say I am still assessing the situation and all the variables involved.” She semi-joked and blinked as the two twirled in rhythm to the music. “The opening sorting and introductions were certainly telling in their own way but I look forward to speaking with the other competitors directly. It will certainly be interesting to see who is chosen to be champion for each school.” She informed him not unkindly as she glanced around to observe the students who were dancing alongside them. “What about you? Any thoughts?” She inquired as her dark coco gaze returned to Lizandro’s and she gave him an inviting smile. She was more than happy to listen to him and converse on whatever subject he chose as they danced. It was almost like being back in the dining cart with the young man but with a bit more movement involved. As the song eventually came to an end she took a step back and bowed her head formally to him. “It was wonderful to have this chance to talk again. I hope it won’t be for the final time tonight.” She stated and truly meant her words. She wouldn’t mind the possibility of making a friend out of Lis provided he was open to the idea as well. “Good luck in your next dance.” She added as they began to part ways and her eyes scanned the crowd for the next name on her card. Vasu Saini.

    It didn’t take long for her to spot the young man who had made such a show of his introduction patiently waiting on the edge of the crowd. Long, elegant, powerful legs carried her towards him in a confident stride. “Vasu Saini.” She greeted the young man with another formal bow of her head. Curtsies weren’t something her mother or grandmother approved of so it was not often one might find any female member of the Quansah family lowering herself towards the ground for formalities sake. “Unless the dance cards lie I believe you and I should take to the dance floor.” Her voice wasn’t unkind in any way as she offered him a smile and held out her hand towards him. She didn’t yet know what to make of this young man but she would continue to treat him with the same kindness and charm she would anyone, just as she had been taught. She certainly recognized his family name but that didn’t mean much as she knew not all witches or wizards resembled their families. She certainly did her best to make those who came before her proud but she would never assume everyone else felt the same way when it came to their bloodlines. “Shall we?”



    Mentions: Vasu Aviator Aviator



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 
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Odinson LocJaw
"The Young Giant"
Mood: Flustered yet remaining headstrong Year: Ten Location: Ilvermorny Role: Champion Outfit: Clickers

As the young boy shrunk the details on the girls face started to become far more clear, her smooth, olive complected skin, it was paired with a salmon pink lipstick that seemingly had just a dash of baby pink added into the mixture. Her eyes a beautiful yet striking Carribean Blue, her head covered with a gorgeous mane of light brown hair. Without a doubt she was the most stunning creature he had ever laid his eyes upon, and he had seen many magical creatures. "Uhm, uhh, what?" He mumbled, still grasping to the fact that he had just shrunk over ten feet, it was to no surprise that the boy had no recollection of the days he was below the nine foot mark. Suddenly he felt a warm and gentle hand guide his own to the girls waist and another begin to guide him in dance. That's when he heard her voice, it was enough to make a man's heart skip a beat; even a guy like him.

So tell me about Japan!

"Japan is a place full of history, like many other places. Though the difference is that the Japanese will do anything, and I mean anything, to preserve theirs. Everywhere you go you will see a building or a carving that is over a hundred years old. They have fields that stretch for miles, with the purist green grass. It's truly amazing. Maybe I'll be able to show you later on in the tournament." Odinson said with a smile, giving the girl a deep dip and bringing her back up as if she was a feather off the ground. Hearing that it was her first time out of Europe was quite the surprise, she acted like such a natural. "I'm sure that dream of yours will come true." He stated in a soft, yet firm tone.

My family raises dragons back home.

"Is that right? You know.. my Patronus is a Hungarian Horntail." He said, taking a quick look around before pulling his Wand out of one of his dress pockets, with a flick of his wrist the Patronus charm was cast, and there, on the shoulder of the girl was where a practically flaming dragon stood, it was small and using little to no magic at all, only a demonstration of what his Patronus looked like. "I haven't casted one in quite a long time, perhapse I will need to use it some time during the tournament." He continued.

What about you? What’s your favorite creature?

"It's a tad bland, but perhaps my Patronus; The Hungarian Horntail. They are often known for being viscous, but when they are calm, and even when not, they are some of the most wonderful creatures you would ever see." As he finished his sentence the music began to die down, "I hope to see you again, madam. It was my distinct pleasure being your partner." He said with a smile as he gave a bow. Only now it was time to find the girl named Naomi Hai.​
 
border][/bord
THEODORE WEST
HOGWARTS CHAMPION
Mildly Intrigued
Ilvermorny Grand Hall
Ramona irregular-neptune irregular-neptune Kiara and Odinson (briefly) FROSTBITE4395 FROSTBITE4395
Click Me!
By the time Theo was finally ushered off the stage the crowd was still cheering and applauding, he was drunk off the approval, a satisfied smirk gracing his darkened features. He ran a few fingers through his disheveled hair, casually combing a few stray pieces back into place before returning his attention to the many tournament staff members who were all bustling around like squirrels storing nuts for winter, as if the slightest deviation from their planned version of events would ruin them. He actively restrained himself from rolling his eyes as his amber irises scanned the room for some sort of direction. After a few more moments, an older woman whom he assumed was employed at Ilvermorny announced the commencement of dances and Theo exhaled deeply. He didn’t have any qualms with dancing, if he was entirely honest he was quite proficient, not the type to stutter his steps or forget where to place his hands, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

Pulling his suit jacket open, he dipped his hand into the silken inner pocket, withdrawing his dance card and reviewing the names once again. Ramona Bunker… he clicked his tongue. Admittedly, his attention had been preoccupied during the introductions of most of the other candidates, and he hadn’t the faintest idea who this person was. Other pairs were starting to break off from the larger groups, coloring the dance floor with their vibrant gowns and smart looking suits as Theo shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression one of mild disinterest. But sure enough, his partner had found him, clad in an emerald colored suit with wild, curly hair and light cocoa skin. He took his time surveying her, chocolatey eyes sparkled back at him as he tried to decide whether or not it was worth flirting with this one. Ramona, as they had introduced themself, did not seem like the type to be easily won over with a boyish smile and dashing good looks. After a brief pause, he finally spoke. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with the mask.” He tapped his cheek bone, the spot on his face that should’ve been covered with a mask of his own, but Theodore had completely disregarded the mask requirement.

He gently took Ramona’s hand, placing his lips against the skin of her knuckles briefly before leading them out towards the dance floor with an ease that suggested he had done this multiple times before. While most of the gentlemen in the tournament had expressed hesitance to place their hands on their partners, Theo had never been the timid type, and doubted Ramona would chastise him for placing his hands where they belonged for the duration of their choreography. As the violins began to weave a symphonic melody Theo placed one hand on Ramona’s waist, the other clasping her right hand. It took him about ten seconds to piece together that his first partner was exceptionally excited to be partaking in all these formalities, which he found a bit endearing… a bit. He didn’t speak much throughout their time together, more of a stoic presence than anything. He had no intentions of being rude, in fact, he quite enjoyed the easy silence between them. Occasionally, he would offer her some guidance with the steps, adjusting his position once or twice to ensure any hiccups were unnoticeable. “So tell me… what does the Wampus house represent?” He hadn’t noticed any of the resident Ilvermorny students being sorted and assumed it was likely because they already knew their own houses. “I’m in Slytherin back at Hogwarts… cunning and ambitious… and the best Quidditch Team by a landslide.” he smirked softly with a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

The rest of their dance wrapped up without incident and Theo found himself hoping that Ramona was picked as the champion for Ilvermorny. A small, guilty part of him realized that he wanted Ramona to be the champion because he didn’t see them as much of a threat, which probably said more about him than it did about Ramona. When the music was finished, Theo left Ramona with a swift bow and a pleasant smile. “Best of luck tonight.” He finished, before turning to survey the crowd for his next partner, Kiara Sinclair from Beauxbatons Academy. She was easy to spot in a sky blue gown dragging gracefully behind her on the dance floor. It seemed she was still wrapped up in conversation with her previous partner, but Theo made his way over not caring much that he was interrupting. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stood behind the giant, Odinson, who had previously been much taller, and cleared his throat. “Mind if I cut in?” He winked at the girl in front of him, staring right past Odinson as if he weren’t there at all.
 
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Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “Magnificent Bastard” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens​

In the wake of Marcello Bellini’s departure, a smoky-thick silence stretched between Cha-Cha and Kazimir. Cha-Cha realized he was breathing hard, despite his outwardly calm handling of the confrontation. His hand twitched where it lay beside his wine glass, the fingers balling halfway together, as if itching to curl around an enemy’s throat. Anger scorched a red trail through him, desiccating all other thoughts, emotions inside him until he was all hot barrenness like a desert. He imagined Bellini as one of those pureblood supremacists who advocated for the inspection of Muggleborns’ wands to ensure they’d not been stolen from one of a nobler lineage, who propagated that such wizards were unfit to hold high-ranking positions in the Ministry. Bellini was the kind of bigot that the Crow Court would have targeted, from whose death they would have crafted a message that said no more.
The Crow Court’s first member had been Alexandra Kershaw, a young Australian witch freshly graduated from Uagadou. She’d worked in a broomstick smith, her hands often smeared with grease or a stray bit of sawdust in her hair that she’d missed after her shift ended. Alexandra had been one of Cha-Cha’s first patients when he’d opened his private practice, where she’d related to him her troubles being a half-blood witch who suffered torment at the hands of her supremacist father and siblings. In her own words, she’d been born the obvious product of an affair, given by her bronze skin when both of her alleged parents were white. Her father had been angrier at the fact that his house was tainted by the presence of a half-blood witch more so than the child wasn’t his to begin with.
Alexandra and Cha-Cha had been the same age when she first came to him for guidance, eighteen years old. He’d used Legilimency to assuage the potent mental anguish of the years of abuse she’d endured until enrolling at Ilvermorny. But they’d been so, so young. Cha-Cha empathized with the discrimination she’d endured, having occasionally experienced similar treatment at Koldovstoretz and abroad at Mahoutokoro, when one of his tournament competitors had accused him of cheating because a Muggleborn could not naturally be such an advanced magic user. And Cha-Cha had been a cure for Alexandra, the psychic treatments a drug that she was rapidly becoming addicted to. She’d endorsed his vision of a better world, where Muggleborns were not slandered subjects of suspicion but elevated to the same legitimacy of purebloods. Why not do something about it? she’d asked one session, but her eyes hadn’t met his. Instead they were hanging at his lips.
Back then, Cha-Cha hadn’t had half as many reservations about flipping through other people’s thoughts and memories like a scandalous magazine. Alexandra’s mind was familiar territory to him by now, a place of music with heavy synths and the cool pressure of wind tangling hair, as if one were riding a broomstick headfirst into a gale. But the wind wasn’t cool this time. Rather, it had been replaced by a warm, fluttery sensation low in her stomach, her heartbeat jittering along at a frenetic rate. Desire. Alexandra wanted him, and Cha-Cha could only play dumb to it for so long, because he wanted her too. Tapping his gel pen idly against his clipboard, he chose his words carefully, laden with a double meaning. What would you have me do, Alex?
Her pupils were large, dark pools. He felt the shift go through her brain when she’d registered the physical, immediate context of his words, the small leap of her pulse. Kiss me, she’d replied, and they’d both leaned out over the rickety wooden desk toward one another. Her lipstick formed a dark magenta smear around her mouth, and her hair, tumbling past her shoulders in wide, toffee waves, was satin smooth between his fingers. Alexandra had uttered a delicious sigh and climbed up onto the desk. Consumed with a fiery need that Cha-Cha was unsure was hers, his own, or a combination of both, he met her halfway, the desk creaking beneath their weight, her plump lips opening beneath his and tasting of ripe summer plums. Amid their furious kissing and caressing, they knocked over Cha-Cha’s coffee mug, which promptly shattered on the floor, but they both ignored it as their fervor accelerated…
Cha-Cha blinked with the suddenness of one startling from a dream. A flush of warmth crawled up his neck as if soft lips had been pressed there moments ago. The dark mahogany table felt very… sturdy beneath his palms. With some effort, he pulled his gaze toward the dance floor, the world tilting around him as he did so. A rainbow of brightly-colored spotlights were tracking dancing couples as they roamed around the floor—when had those appeared? His breath quickened as he drew a horrific conclusion, the bottom falling out of his stomach.
Drinkin’ makes you sloppy, gloated a nasally American accent that pronounced you like ya. It came from Cha-Cha’s left, as if the words had been spoken aloud clear as day. He resisted the impulse to whirl toward the finely-dressed party of Ilvermorny professors, the direction in which Bellini had sauntered off, not wanting to reveal the silent exchange that’d just taken place to nonparticipants. She was a pretty girl, continued the voice leisurely, and you were a despicable therapist to exploit that.
A cocktail of outrage and fear coursed through Cha-Cha. Outrage that he’d been taunted with one of his most personal memories of a girl who was now dead. Fear that someone else had the demonstrated ability to do that to him. Ever since his release from Azkaban, Cha-Cha had become a new man with new rules, reborn from the River Lethe and determined to discard the ruthless manipulator he’d once been. His most important rule was that he did not use his Legilimency to snoop and pry if he could help it—the exceptions being if someone else bled to him or asked him to look—and he absolutely did not use it with intent to hurt.
But every rule had its breaking point. With furious psychic force, Cha-Cha lunged at the foreign presence in his mind, seeking a counterattack while the doorway between minds remained open.
Sharp pain splintered through his fingers, as if a door had been slammed on them. Hissing in air through his teeth, Cha-Cha quickly pulled his hand into his lap, disturbing his wine glass and causing a few droplets to slosh out of the top. The pain was enough to shatter the link, and when Cha-Cha went stretching out his senses to detect a threat inside his mind, it echoed with a ghostly emptiness. Nothing but his own failings were there. You fancy yourself the smartest person in the room, yet you are far from its only Legilimens. But it wasn’t a real-time voice, just a remembered one. Words spoken to him minutes ago, shaped by cruel lips and not telepathy.
Cha-Cha still didn’t look in the direction of the gossiping Ilvermorny adults. He didn’t need to. Their emotions floated to him like toy boats over a pond. Disgust. Fear. Anger. Morbid curiosity. Curbed admiration followed by shame. Excitement rippled through them, as if they were a pack of wolves with the scent of blood in their noses, no doubt fueled by the horror stories of Cha-Cha’s dreadful behavior that Bellini was currently relaying to them. Again, the thought that he was something defective, a toy when all the tricks don’t work anymore, crossed Cha-Cha’s mind. The soaring violin notes had a too-loud, piercing quality, adding to his chagrin as he watched the dancing couples, determined to look at anything but Bellini holding court. There are too many fucking people in this world… Cha-Cha fretted as he took another sip of Malbec, a defiant gesture more than anything. Bellini had called him a sloppy drunk, but Cha-Cha was seething for another brush with the fellow Legilimens. He would not lose again.
He was jolted from his vengeful musings by a question from Kazimir, his voice so low that Cha-Cha didn’t immediately realize that he was the one being addressed. Cha-Cha blanked, blinking at Kazimir in undisguised confusion. Amidst the vivid memory of Alexandra, and then the psychic showdown with Bellini, Cha-Cha had no idea how much time had elapsed, but whatever he and Kazimir had last been discussing seemed a thousand miles away. “Um, uh…” Cha-Cha trailed off, defeated. “What were we talking about?” A furrow formed between Kazimir’s heavy brows as he scrutinized Cha-Cha, who felt a hot blaze of embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. It was the kind of concerned, stern look that said, You’ve been drinking too much, without the tactlessness of verbally scolding another grown man. “Yeah, I’ll put a pin in it after this glass,” Cha-Cha answered without Kazimir having to say anything. Maybe he had hit the bottle a little harder than he’d intended, but it was impossible to convey to his former Koldovstoretz classmate how his attention had been otherwise occupied. It was impossible to convey it to anyone who wasn’t also a Legilimens.
Kazimir reiterated that Cha-Cha had been muttering about his fans, and the Russian man was inquiring whether he had many of those. He asked it very calmly, as if Cha-Cha were a budding rockstar on the brink of fame and not a notorious former terrorist who’d tried to uproot the government. Cha-Cha found the juxtaposition between the words and the tone wildly funny, and he gave a short laugh, renewing Kazimir’s look of bewilderment. “I forgot how nonchalant you can be, Cap,” he said fondly. The cold weight of Kazimir’s question sobered him, the smile fading from his face. Cha-Cha took a moment to compose a reply. “Normally I don’t talk about this topic,” he began, and Kazimir immediately apologized. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with, like it or not,” Cha-Cha waved him off. Something he had to face in the mirror, every day, again, and again, and again.
Cha-Cha was debating how much to tell Kazimir, a sum that was in direct proportion to how much he trusted the other man. Would he run off and join the Ilvermorny gossipmongers as soon as Cha-Cha fed him something juicy? The last time he’d seen Kazimir he’d been fourteen years old, almost two decades ago. They’d never been particularly close, but Cha-Cha had been given no reason to dislike Kazimir, either, aside from being a fierce Quidditch opponent for the Black Court. But he didn’t make a habit of trusting others. Not when he had seen inside so many minds, lain eyes on all the sordid secrets hoarded up and rotting with the passage of time. Humans lacked integrity, a self-serving nature making them inherently bad at the core. Yet Cha-Cha recalled how Kazimir had immediately asked him whether he was okay in the wake of the Hogwarts student’s explosion, how he’d been ready to leap to Cha-Cha’s defense in the initial, physical encounter with Marcello Bellini. Yes, humans were inherently bad, but without delving inside Kazimir’s consciousness, his intentions appeared as good as could be hoped for.
“It’s not so bad anymore, now that this is my sixth year teaching at Castelobruxo,” Cha-Cha began carefully, looking Kazimir in the eye. “But during the first two years that I was there, I received piles of letters every day, until I finally relinquished my owl. Most of it was hate mail. Accusations that someone had bought my way out of Azkaban, threats that I would be struck down remorselessly if I attempted another coup, sorrowful letters from relatives telling me how I’d torn apart their families. One time a church group offered to perform an exorcism to expel the Devil from my soul,” Cha-Cha said truthfully. “And then there was actual fan mail too. People who congratulated me for trying to reform the Ministry. People who said that every drop of blood spilled was in the name of justice, and I’d go down in history as a hero. Reading that was somehow worse than the blind hatred, because a lot of the people who committed those ‘just’ acts had to be persuaded to some degree. I twisted their free will.”
Kazimir didn’t emote excessively, yet he looked at Cha-Cha blankly for a moment, as if he’d gotten a much more expansive answer than he’d anticipated and wasn’t sure how to respond. Cha-Cha forced the corners of his lips into a tentative smile. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” It hadn’t been his intention to spin a tale of woe. Cha-Cha didn’t want others’ pity; he believed he was accountable for all his crimes and shouldn’t be seen as a victim. But the fact that his honest answers garnered sympathy without him trying for it somehow made him feel even more pathetic.
Tipsy as he was and unable to focus on any one thing for too long, something over Kazimir’s shoulder caught his attention. Another pair of eyes connected with his. An Asian woman in her mid-fifties wearing a flowy black cardigan stood tall in her knee-high riding boots to get a glimpse of Cha-Cha past Kazimir. She fixed him with the haughty gaze of a saint confronting a sinner, stiffly turning away when Cha-Cha returned her stare. “Kazimir,” Cha-Cha began seriously. “As you’ve already seen, I’m not too good at making friends when I travel to new places. If they see you talking with me—paying me any attention that’s not negative—our Ilvermorny peers aren’t going to take kindly to you, either. You’ll be a Devil sympathizer,” he said with a sardonic smile. “That being the case, would you like me to go take a lap around the dance floor and leave you to your brandy? I won’t think any less of you if you say yes.”
 
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