WanderLust.
WildFlower
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Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread
- Thread starter Aviator
- Start date
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Gavriel Sylvie
Ilvermorny - Female - Half-Blood - Champion
Gavy was both delighted and relieved when the young woman went along with her spontaneous invitation without complaint. She wasn’t afraid of rejection or anything, but had the young woman refused Gavy knew she would have spent the rest of the night wanting to make sure she was okay. Luckily though the white-haired Uagadou student seemed open to the idea of having their own three-person dance with Raph. Once they reached the handsome blonde male Gavy released the young woman's hand and looked with a delighted smile between the two of them. “Ooooo, I like her, she’s spicy.” Gavy chuckled with a wink as the white-haired student mentioned how she was more than capable of biting back. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She added jokingly and had to raise her hand to cover her mouth as she laughed. “Goodness, you can’t take me anywhere.” She sighed with a bit of giggling still laced into her voice as she shrugged innocently.
Hearing Malaika’s introduction and request for their names as well Gavy paused to let Raph introduce himself before turning and giving a wave. “I’m Gavy, well actually it’s Gavriel but most people call me Gavy for short.” She greeted with a little playful curtsy at the end of her sentence. “Well my pretties, I think it is about time we show this party how three dashing young wizards and witches can dance.” She suggested with a wink as her multi-colored eyes seemed to spark with delight as she spoke and offered a hand to Raph and Malaika so that they could figure out their new dancing situation all together. “Maybe we could be true rebels and play London bridges instead of dancing?” She suggested playfully as they began to each figure out what steps they wanted to take in their made-up on-the-spot dance routine.
The trio was far from graceful as a whole but Gavy was just pleased that it seemed like they were all having fun. Each of them had brought something fun and new to their little dance and at several points, Raph was even smooth with twirling both herself and Malaika at the same time. “Careful Raph, you might make me swoon.” Gavy jested with him as she twirled into his arm before taking up Malaika’s hand and spinning away while Malaika held Raph’s hand in one of hers and Gavy’s in the other. It was spontaneous and fun and to be quite honest Gavy was certain the three of them were getting looks from other students that almost seemed as though they wished they could take part too. If anyone else decided to join them Gavy wouldn’t have protested but while the dance went on it remained just the three of them which she was completely delighted with as well.
Sooner than she would have liked the song ended and she was once again twirling with Malaika when she stopped and felt the dizziness catch up to her. She swayed on her feet for a moment before finding something solid supporting her and looking up to see Raph. Gavy had no clue if she had fallen into him or if he had seen her swaying and stepped up but either way, she was grateful. “See? Swooning!” She chuckled against his chest, attempting to keep things light, and shook her head in an attempt to clear the dizzy spell. Without much thought, she ran her hand along his solid chest and gave it a gentle pat, a silent thank you for keeping her standing when she had spun far too much. Looking from Raph to Malaika she smiled and pushed a lock of blue and purple hair behind her ear. “Well, I thoroughly enjoyed that. We should definitely do it again sometime. Maybe I’ll even keep my footing.” She spoke playfully but her intention was genuine as she clearly had a blast coming up with their unique little dance together.
Looking at her dance card she glanced over at Raph and smirked, “Looks like I get to harass Cosmo next, think he smuggled any sandwiches in?” She joked but also truly felt as though she could eat the entire kitchen's worth of food hidden within the school. “Remind me later and we can raid the hidden cookie stash I know the staff keeps.” She half whispered to Raph as she knew he was also always down for snacks. Looking at Malaika she gave the girl's hand another squeeze and smiled, “If you need another dance partner come find me. I’ll always be happy to save a dance for you Snowbell.” She promised with a genuine grin pulling at her lips. With that, the young metamorphamagus spun on her heels and picked her way through the crowd in search of Cosmo.
It didn’t take her long to find the young man she had gotten to know on the train ride to the school but as she approached it seemed he was still deep in discussion with his dance partner from the previous dance. Waiting patiently to the side she absentmindedly clicked her heels together and fidgeted with the skirt of her iridescent gown, her need to keep moving as present as ever.
Mentions: Raph
captaindanger
Malaika
Wolfiee
Cosmo
pearjuice
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Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
Amusement overtook his surprise at Zuri’s defiant display. Wondering whether this bitch was having a bad day, just naturally crazy, or on her period, Vasu snickered. At his reaction, Zuri’s eyes flared wide in horror before she reigned herself in enough to narrow them, but a flush was creeping up her neck, her ears reddening with it. “Maybe I would, but there’s the matter of her new partner, and I’ve been told multiple times tonight that we’re supposed to save the fighting for the arena.” Although that’d certainly make the evening more entertaining, Vasu thought, sorely tempted to fire a Reducto spell at Cosmo Winter, who’d replaced him as Aurelia’s new dance partner. Breaking that little shit’s arm three years ago hadn’t been enough. Cosmo Winter was a spoiled brat, and there was only one language that bastards like him understood. He had to be disillusioned the hard way of the notion that he was top dog. Good thing that was Vasu Saini’s favored way of doing things. Vasu hadn’t made up his mind on whether he hoped Clara or Cosmo would be selected Durmstrang champion, but the notion of handing Cosmo’s ass to him in front of a global audience was awfully appealing.
Noticing that everyone else had already paired up around them, Vasu said, a little louder than necessary in the silence before the next song began, “So are we gonna dance, or would you prefer to stand around like idiots by the punch bowl with Professor Vino as our supervisor?” A boy in a deep purple suit overheard Vasu’s remark and threw a look at Zuri and him, chortling. Zuri looked mortified, and either because she couldn’t speak or wouldn’t, she wordlessly snatched Vasu’s hand and shuffled as minimally close to him as she had to in order to reach his shoulder. Vasu followed suit, extending his arm at an awkward angle to cup a waist that he was used to being six inches closer to him.
“Make sure your hands don’t wander, or else my knee will wander too,” Zuri hissed, eyes blazing.
Vasu looked past Zuri to the boy in the purple suit, who was openly guffawing now, and quirked an eyebrow at him. Good fuck, buddy, I hope for your sake you’re not next on her hit list. “The hell is your problem?” Vasu whispered to Zuri, and when her face darkened, he amended to, “Yes, ma’am!” He removed the hand from her waist to salute her, spine ramrod straight.
Three explosive notes from a piano and a mezzo-soprano voice stopped them from bickering further. The song was in F-major and its already fast tempo accelerated pleasantly at the chorus. Adrenaline fizzled through Vasu. He tried to lead Zuri through a quick, steppy combination, but she wouldn’t have it, insisting on plodding her feet slowly in place. Up down up down at a painstaking rate. “Zuri, please, you’re killing me. There’s about a hundred and thirty beats per minute in this song and you’re dancing like there’s thirty.”
“Just because you’re a good dancer and I’m not doesn’t mean you have to be a dick about it, okay?”
“I’m not even a good dancer! I’m just—”
Before he could finish, the floor shook. Actually shook, not the thrum of the bass finding a pulse in the largest concentration of solid matter. The music broke off in a shrill squeal of stringed notes, and gasps replaced them. People ducked and cowered, stooping to the ground before the floor buckled beneath them and they were thrown. Zuri lost her balance, toppling forward and catching the top of her head against Vasu’s chin, making his teeth clack together painfully. He hissed a swear as acrid wetness filled his mouth, but it was mostly for show, to hide the fear that was running icy fingers down his spine. There was a loud crunch of glass breaking, and Vasu’s head whipped over his shoulder to see that the bottles balanced on the liquor cart were shaking, and the one nearest the edge had fallen off, shattering in a sea of cornsilk liquid and sharp edges. The bittersweet stench of wine filled the air.
Still supporting Zuri with one arm, Vasu bent his knees deeply, lowering his center of gravity while hunting for his wand with the other, reaching across his body for the discreet pocket sewn into the hip of his sherwani. He’d known terror like this a handful of times before in his life. Nature was one of the few antagonists that posed a threat to Muggles and wizards alike. The last major earthquake that had rocked the Indian subcontinent had been four months ago, in April, and his mother was still paying off the considerable damages her shop had incurred, all the inventory that had been struck off the books as sunk costs. It had taken all of the Sainis’ remaining finances and a few called-in favors to pay Vasu’s tuition for the upcoming school year, and unless Vasu won the prize money that came from winning the tournament, it was uncertain whether he would be attending a sixth year at Koldovstoretz.
Several of the small plates on the professors’ table, already set for the feast, rattled until they plunged to the floor, exploding in a series of white shards. The vibrations increased until Vasu could no longer see straight. Freeing his wand, he wrapped Zuri up in one arm and pulled her close to his chest, hunching over her and shielding her small frame as best he could. “Protego circum!” he shouted, throwing up an omnidirectional barrier around them, hoping against hope that the sheer weight of falling objects wouldn’t flatten it… and them. Dust rained down from the ceiling above, and a chandelier strained against its gold chain. “Shiva, if I’m really your blood and Aditi isn’t just full of shit please fucking protect me,” Vasu prayed in an undertone. He knew that the proper way for it to reach the gods was to close his eyes but he was too transfixed on the clouds of plaster bubbling around the ceiling to tear them away.
Just as Vasu was preparing for the fight of his life, his hand clutching his wand so hard it was a miracle the brittle thing didn’t snap, the rattling stopped. As did the heavy, rhythmic noises that Vasu hadn’t registered as footsteps in the moment. Several pairs of them, moving out of sync with each other. But there, in the doorway to the Great Hall, stood the origins of the noise. All four of them. Three, technically, as the Horned Serpent statue glided smoothly into the front, pushing its way into the room almost silently, minus a creak of strain from the floor.
“No fucking way,” Vasu breathed, feeling the ground give way beneath him in a new meaning. He pushed Zuri away from him, needing to drink in this moment without her overpowering ylang-ylang aroma getting in the way. She promptly stumbled and pitched forward, falling on her face with a short shriek. “Sorry,” Vasu mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction, but sparing her only a half-second’s glance.
The stone set in the Horned Serpent’s forehead glowed a sinister violet, its stony tongue flickering out to lap its maw via some strange magic that Vasu could only guess at. “Samay aa gaya hai,” it rasped, and somehow, amid everything else impossible that was happening, Vasu was astonished to hear the statue speaking perfectly intelligible Hindi. The time has come. The Goblet of Fire has made its selections, and on its behalf we speak, was the English translation of the statue’s words.
There was a grinding of stone, and the Horned Serpent stretched its body into the air, rearing so high its jeweled head almost brushed a chandelier. “I name Clara Winter, scholar with a mind as sharp as a diamond blade, champion of Durmstrang Institute. May wisdom light her path to victory,” the statue rumbled. And then, its gray scales crisscrossing and overlapping each other in a disorienting optical illusion, the Horned Serpent coiled in on itself, its head circled back to where its tail had been, and it seemingly devoured itself. Disappearing gradually from its back half, until only fangs remained, catching the light and glinting, before they too faded into oblivion. The Pukwudgie stepped up to take its place, the floor quaking again as it moved. A stained glass window shattered, but only a few gazes were attracted to the noise as the statue spoke, naming Malaika Odion champion of Uagadou. And then the Pukwudgie statue curled into a spiky ball, contorting itself ever tighter until it too vanished with a pop! of sound.
The Thunderbird statue repeated the process, appointing numerous students to champion status and wishing them well by virtue of the represented House’s defining characteristics. But in truth, Vasu had stopped listening. Need coursed through him, his heart pumping so loudly he thought it would burst as he awaited the Wampus cat’s turn. The Thunderbird statue hadn’t named him champion. But neither had it named Sasha or Mey. This was it then. Do or die, by the Wampus cat’s hand. Paw? Here was the moment that Vasu would know whether he would return home a failure at the end of the year, or if he had a shot at the crown.
The colossal stony cat trotted into the room, tail lashing from side to side. Its claws scraped against the floor, ripping gashes into the black-and-white checkered tiles like a chessboard after a battle had been fought. It didn’t speak so much as yowl, a loud, discordant sound that made some clap their hands over their ears. But it spoke to Vasu like an aria of the soul, like a war cry from some unseeable depth. “I, the Wampus cat, warrior who knows no surrender, speak on the Goblet’s behalf!” The beast punctuated this with a roar. Krpaya, Vasu prayed. Mujhe len. He needed this. All of the sacrifices his mother had made on his and Ekta’s behalf. Winning the tournament would be how he repaid her. His father’s death wouldn’t be in vain because the hole it had torn in Vasu would grow back stronger. “I choose only those with the bravest of hearts to fight for their schools’ honor. And I name Odinson Locjaw, Theodore West, and Vasu Saini champions. May your foes quiver in fear before your might.”
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Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “Magnificent Bastard” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
He didn’t make much conversation at the table, and there were blessedly few attempts to talk with him, because when food was served there weren’t many people in the world interesting enough to compete with his plate. Thus, between courses, he found his thoughts drifting to Amity Monroe, the last shiny thing to have captured his attention. They’d danced, and Cha-Cha had dropped a line or two that insinuated his interest in getting to know her further, electrified by his own daring. Amity’s lashes had fluttered in a way that sent a rewarding buzz through him, like his efforts hadn’t been just a way to pass the time. Like they held promise. Of course, unbeknownst to Amity, it was all just play in the end. Cha-Cha wasn’t naturally attracted to women, and the only times he pursued them were for sport. When he needed to feel desired, and he wanted to see how far he could push something until it broke. Besides. Lis and Ricky had their own opponents. There was a veritable strategy to be found in having a rival professor wrapped around his finger. Just because his students were the spotlight of this tournament didn’t mean Cha-Cha had any intention of being useless.
And he wasn’t the only one with secrets. Just before they’d taken to the dance floor, Amity had given a momentary slip. When Cha-Cha had surprised her by responding to her unvoiced question about his dancing ability, she’d been knocked off-balance. Too shaken to keep up the lie. It had been the word privacy that’d made him look at her twice. Articulated with a short I. It’d rung out like a flat note amid the honey-smooth slow Southern twang. And Cha-Cha knew from two years of waiting tables in New Orleans that no American confused privacy with privy, especially a Southerner. Of course, it was a very isolated incident that had given him that hunch, just a single syllable of suspiciousness. And maybe there was a logical explanation, like Amity had watched a lot of British telly growing up. But Cha-Cha trusted his hunches.
While the rest of the table had been distracted by after-dinner drinks–coffee for most, brandy for those who wanted to indulge, and a special vanilla milkshake with a mystery shot in it–Cha-Cha was conducting business. He pulled aside one of the House Elves toting the liquor cart and pouring drinks and asked if it wasn’t too late to order some wine. No, not a glass, a bottle. Actually, the most expensive bottle that the kitchen had on hand, and Cha-Cha would be willing to pay for it. The House Elf had looked confused, but the appearance of a fifty-dollar bill and the promise that it could all be hers, separate from the cost of the wine, had washed away her doubts. Then she’d disappeared to consult with the kitchen, and a few minutes later she’d returned with a bottle of Stag’s Leap Artemis Cabernet Sauvignon, and they settled on a price of a hundred and eighty dollars. Cha-Cha paid in cash, surprised that that was the best wine money could buy in America. But then again, he doubted Ilvermorny served alcohol except for special occasions.
He tipped the same House Elf, whom he’d come to establish a line of trust with very quickly, another twenty dollars to take the bottle off his hands and ensure that it was delivered at the private quarters of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Marcello Bellini at exactly eleven o’clock for a midnight toast, complete with the appropriate glassware and maybe a tray of scones too, if that were possible. Also, it would be thoroughly appreciated if she could see to the arrangement of everything personally. But before she did, would she be so kind as to nudge the curly-haired blond boy and the short dark-skinned boy and tell them that Professor Chahaya would like to speak with them promptly, please? Another twenty dollars set her eyes so wide they almost popped out of her head, and ensured that she followed his instructions to a T. Oh, and make sure that dear Marcello doesn’t find out about the surprise toast ahead of time, okay?
With his pockets considerably lighter after the transaction–but that was okay, if it all went as planned–Cha-Cha waited for Ricky and Lis to come find him. The wait wouldn’t be long; while Ricky coming to view him as a friend might pose a threat to the chain of command, Cha-Cha was confident that Lis was intimidated enough by him to see the order obeyed swiftly. So Cha-Cha moved quickly during the interval that he had to himself. He glanced over at the table of Ilvermorny professors, located near the tournament table but maintaining a careful distance. Unsurprisingly, the woman he was looking for was seated directly across from Bellini, all eyes for him as she laughed at some witty quip or another he had made. She was pretty, wearing a peach-pink blazer and pencil skirt, dark hair pulled back from her face in a low bun. Stylish and chic, yet businesslike. She reminded Cha-Cha of a Korean flight attendant.
Cha-Cha looked at her covertly, holding up his empty wine glass as he did so as if contemplating another drink. Kimberly, he thought with intent. The woman paused and glanced to her right, as if looking for the person who’d said her name. Cha-Cha smiled pointedly as her gaze passed over him, drawing her eyes back to him. Velvety dark pools, reflecting the light and unguarded. The brief moment of eye contact was enough for Cha-Cha to slip in like a wraith. To find the glowing coal of energy, the core of her desire. Desire for Marcello. Cha-Cha coaxed it as he would a flame, bringing it to the forefront of her thoughts, until her pulse raced with it and her head spun. Take him to your room tonight, Kimberly, Cha-Cha suggested.
Those who had already finished their after-dinner drinks or didn’t wish to partake were beginning to rise from the tables, to stretch limbs that had long gone stiff and mingle with those who’d been seated at opposite ends. Cha-Cha felt a tap on his shoulder, glanced over, and saw Ricky standing behind him, Lis trailing the other boy shyly. “Nice timing,” Cha-Cha said, more appreciatively than either boy knew. He rose from his seat and addressed Einar and Amity. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for the lovely company over an even lovelier evening, and I look forward to calling you my colleagues this year.” He clasped both their hands briefly in farewell. When Kazimir extended his own, Cha-Cha swatted it cheekily aside and went in for a swift one-armed hug, a reassuring clap on the back. “No need to pretend like you don’t know me, Cap. Don’t be a stranger, eh?” Cha-Cha wondered whether Kazimir would make an amusing mark after he was done toying with Amity, but Kaz was from Russia, where certain same-sex relationships were uncouth. He’d have to collect more intel before he played with fire.
Cha-Cha abandoned the mask he’d taken off during dinner on the table. He bought a new one every Carnival season, and right now, he wanted his pockets as light as possible. Deadweight would just slow him down, and he didn’t want to take the chance of dropping any condemning evidence at the scene of the crime. Even if that scene–if all went as planned–wouldn’t be salvageable for much longer. He turned and gave both his students a curt nod. “Congratulations on your championship, Lisandro. Now walk with me. One of the House Elves was kind enough to tell me how to get to the library. Let’s go that way, yeah?”
Once they’d exited the Great Hall and taken a few turns down torch-lit corridors with long, guttering shadows, past rows of darkened classrooms and down a flight of stairs, Cha-Cha got down to business. “Your training starts tonight. I understand you wanna go out and celebrate or maybe get some sleep before classes start tomorrow, but don’t fight me on this. We should have started this last semester, as some of your opponents from families that can afford it have spent their whole summers preparing for this tournament. So we have to make up for lost time. And hopefully I won’t require too much of yours tonight. Anyway, Ricky.”
Cha-Cha transferred his gaze to the taller of his two proteges, who blinked in alarm at hearing his name, as if he’d already begun the process of tuning Cha-Cha out. “Did you get a good glimpse of the House Elf who came to collect you and Lis?” He consulted his watch. “Because it’s 10:38 now, and in exactly twenty-two minutes, she is going to deliver a bottle of wine to a particular room. The room will most likely be free of inhabitants at the time of the delivery. I need you to track the House Elf down by any means necessary short of harm coming to her and tell me how to find this room. Give me any defining characteristics. And get back to us as quickly as possible. We’ll be waiting for you in the library, which is down the hall to the left of where we’re standing now. Most importantly, don’t be seen unless you are exceptionally skilled at memory charms, which I know for a fact you aren’t. Now get going, because your twenty-one minutes are ticking.”
Ricky looked bewildered but obeyed, his lips parted as if he meant to ask a question but couldn’t find the words. When Cha-Cha was left alone in the corridor with Lisandro, he said, “We have some time to kill before Ricky meets us at the library. During that time, we’re gonna go take a walk to the kitchens. Grab some cooking oil. Conceal us from sight and sound, please.” Lis asked how he should do that, to which Cha-Cha replied, “However you best know how. I don’t care how you do it, so long as it works.” Lis started to close his eyes, presumably reviewing his mental repertoire of spells, but then they snapped open. He asked, a little tentatively as if fearing the answer, whether they would be using the cooking oil to cook something. “Mm, nah,” Cha-Cha replied noncommittally. And then he elaborated, “More like somewhere. Cooking oil is highly flammable, you see.”
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Aurelia Quansah
Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary
The feast had certainly lived up to its name in quantity but as far as Aurelia was concerned there was still a good amount of quality to be missing. She had heard that American school food was known to be lacking but she had only ever been under the impression that such observations were regarding muggle schools, not wizarding academies such as Ilvermorny. It wasn’t awful and Auri made sure to be polite and eat her fair share, but the food lacked the spice and flavor she was used to in her meals. This was something that was always a bit of a culture shock to her when she traveled to countries that embraced a different pallet than she was used to. She would adapt and certainly find things she liked, she even made sure to thank the house elves that served her a rather delightful shrimp cocktail that was perfectly prepared. Not once did her judgements on the food creep across her features which she had learned during her life to keep a firm grasp on. So much could be given away with a single look, the twitch of a lip, the tilt of an eyebrow, and she didn’t have any interest in sharing her thoughts for free.
After the feast when the names were drawn and champions announced there was a heavy disappointment to not be chosen for the great honor of representing her school but still, she was proud to serve as a secondary. Leaning over to her classmate she gently rested her hand on Malaika’s lower arm and smiled at her, “Congratulations! I’m envious of course but I promise you will have no ally more dedicated than me.” She spoke with a smile and her words rang with honesty as they passed her lips. “Anything you need, anything at all, just ask.” She assured knowing that even if she wasn’t the champion for her school she still had every fiber of her body burning with the desire to see Uagadou thrive and triumph over all the other schools in this competition. Malaika wasn’t someone she knew entirely too well but from what she did know of the young woman it was clear she was more than ready to compete. They were both animagi, something she knew no other team could boast about and something she doubted many others were aware of. There was no doubt in the young heiress's mind that they would eventually use this skill to their advantage.
As announcements drew to an end she glanced over at the white-haired girl beside her and quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Shall we depart to discuss strategy? I know this is a time of celebration but it is never too early to be prepared.” She suggested knowing that she wanted to cross check information gathered tonight with her teammate before things got too crazy and they lost the chance. She had tried to pick up as much as she could in casual conversation among the other students but knew that others had been doing the exact same. It was clear to anyone watching that the Ilvermorny champion was a metamorphamagus. Auri couldn’t tell how much control the young woman had over her shape-changing abilities. Based on the display tonight it looked as though her mood affected her appearance but it had yet to become obvious how far she could take her shape-shifting abilities. If the most danger she posed was turning her hair blue when she is excited then Malaika was likely in the clear with her. But, if this Gavriel Sylvie girl could fully transform into someone else then she might prove to be far more dangerous in a challenge. Auri hoped they would have an opportunity to gauge just how skilled the young woman was with her powers before the first challenge. “Think they would miss us if she disappeared to the courtyard?” She inquired as she gave Malaika a small smile and a wink.
Mentions: Malaika
Wolfiee
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honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
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Wolfiee
Meow
Malaika Odion
Uagadou Champion
coded by natasha.
captaindanger
Peter Parker
pearjuice
Member
honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
code by valen t.
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
By Vasu’s former standards of crystal decanter and linen napkin luxury, the food itself was somewhat underwhelming. But over the summer months his diet had changed dramatically due to dwindling funds, and he was grateful not to be eating the same old brown lentil dhal and cabbage thoran. Meat had become a rarity at the Saini table anymore, and after a quick assessment of the risks of Aditi finding out that he’d gorged himself on beef at the Opening Ceremony, he caved to temptation and loaded up a hamburger with barbecue sauce and pickled peppers and some divine, foreign concoction called pimento cheese. The fries had been too thick and unseasoned, but drowned in enough honey mustard, it was less obvious. There were long rectangles in baked doughy exteriors that Vasu thought of as “mystery sticks” until he bit into one, and discovered that they were sort of akin to jumbo mozzarella sticks with less stringy cheese and the tomato sauce already inside of it. Finally, as he was drizzling a promising-looking hot sauce called Carnival onto a corn dog, the American girl next to him emitted a loud gasp. Vasu was equal parts surprised and irritated to find her hand latched around his wrist just as he was raising the dripping corn dog to his lips.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked, horror evident in her breathy voice and bugged-out eyes. “The last boy who put that much Carnival on something was rushed off to the infirmary. He was there for several days and missed graduation and the train home. They had to send him home by portkey.”
Vasu eyed the viselike fingers still clamped around his wrist. He jerked away in one brusque motion. The girl’s eyes dropped as if she’d forgotten about her hold on him, her hand now closed around empty air.
Watching her steadily and resenting this squirrely-cheeked creature who had the audacity to grab him and cause some of the sauce to run down his wrist and stain the cuff of his sherwani, he replied, “Ladakee, I’m Indian. If this will send you to the infirmary, I’ve got some stuff in my luggage that will send you to the grave.” Conscious of her bewildered stare, he bit into the corn dog, tearing off a third of it in one go and waiting for the infirmary-inducing hot sauce to do its worst. It disappointingly struck Vasu as more vinegary than spicy. The only rewarding thing about the experience was Clara’s laughter, which rang out in sweet and delicious notes like honey. It was a sound that Vasu would have bottled and gotten drunk off of night after night.
But there was no use in thinking about her like that. Vasu had taken the gaudy onyx-and-jade ring off as soon as the train had left Grand Central Station, but it was a ghostly weight still wrapped around his finger, as tangible as the restraining grip of the Pukwudgie girl. Aditi’s present to him on the night of his thirteenth birthday had been the announcement of a suitable match for him. A mandatory match, as the betrothal had already been arranged and there was no going back. She’d claimed that this Chitrita Pawar who’d been promised to him was a Mahoutokoro student two years his senior, but for someone to marry into his disgraced family, Vasu half-expected her to be a fifty-year-old hag with no other candidates for marriage. Or perhaps just unspeakably ugly. He’d been forced to watch enviously as the other boys he played cards with flirted with ruby-lipped Slavic girls, knowing that he’d probably be more useful to his grandmother dead than alive if Chitrita’s family was given any reason to rescind the engagement.
With the sole exception of one time in the alley behind the train station when he’d been put up to a dare, Vasu had no experience with girls. Embarrassingly, he’d been too drunk to remember the girl’s name, but the scent and feel of her ginger-and-cream skin were burned into his memory. Ironically that one incident had given him a reputation as something of a player among his classmates, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. Vasu hadn’t corrected them, though. It pleased him to be perceived as smooth and experienced. And given the changeable nature of the tournament’s host country, he was hopeful that this year he could live up to that reputation with minimal consequences.
As dessert was being cleared away—which Vasu normally wouldn’t have been interested in, but it’d been so long since sweets were at home that he indulged in a slice of pound cake—he and Clara sensed Cosmo lingering on the periphery, ready to swoop in. Vasu was prepared to stand his ground and let Cosmo get through him if he wanted to speak with his sister, but Clara made it clear that she was resigned to her fate and would rather converse with Cosmo alone. Remembering the Wine Man’s insinuation that showing his teeth too early was likely to alienate potential allies, Vasu wished her well and reluctantly took his leave, but not before leveling his stare at Cosmo in a silent challenge. No matter, though. He needed some time on his own to scope out a spot that he could turn into a gambling hall. Best to get a head start before he was drowning in schoolwork and preparation for tournament challenges.
He walked through granite hallways with arches propped up on massive pillars alone with the goal of getting lost. Vasu enjoyed exploring buildings, and it wouldn’t do to build his casino somewhere that got too much foot traffic. If nothing in the main castle would do, then he’d have to take it to an outbuilding. At Koldovstoretz, the boys broke into the shed where the Blue Court stored Quidditch equipment after hours, which was easy when one of them was the team captain and had the keys to the shed. There were several bottles of Smirnoff and Beluga Noble strategically hidden in there among the brooms and bats, which enhanced everyone’s enjoyment of the game, win or lose. His goal for the Ilvermorny gambling hall was to install a roulette wheel. Vasu had never actually played roulette before, but it had been his father’s game of choice, and he knew the betting procedures. He didn’t doubt his ability to create one. Maybe with some advanced charmwork, it would even be biased in his favor. Rather, the hard part would be ensuring word of the ring didn’t reach professors’ ears. The last thing he needed was the Wine Man busting in midway through a spin of the wheel and shutting down operations.
Vasu was beginning to think that he’d delved deep enough into the castle when the torches on the walls throwing warm light morphed into dots of electric white, and a smell of damp stone pervaded the air. But the change in lighting and scent wasn’t the most surprising thing. What gave Vasu pause were the eerie phrases of music drifting from a room at the end of the hall, the door cracked ajar an inch. Although it wasn’t productive to his mission, Vasu couldn’t resist his own curiosity and crept closer. The pianist was clearly talented, and as he neared the door, he recognized one of the most easily identifiable pieces in theater: the Swan Lake theme. F-major? he wondered. Another few bars and he mentally corrected himself. No, G-major.
Not feeling the need to announce his presence, Vasu pushed the door open without knocking. Perhaps the pianist wouldn’t even notice him and continue playing. He just wanted to glimpse their face. But surely enough, the piano was facing the door, and the player’s head shot up as soon as she noticed its motion. The music died the moment her eyes connected with Vasu’s. Surprise hit him like a shot of something bitter and strong, the effects noticeable instantaneously. It left Vasu feeling off-balance and teetering, and his hand tightened on the stainless steel door handle. Chitrita Pawar. He wanted to run. He wanted to stay. The dual impulses warred within him. Vasu got the distinct feeling that he was in danger if he stayed, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away, as if Chitrita were a charmed snake and there was no barrier between them.
She found her voice before he did, articulating his name with the cold disappointment of a woman about to make good on a threat. The dark tunnels of her eyes did a slow, leisurely appraisal of him. Vasu returned the favor, which, given Chitrita’s red-and-gold lehenga with gota patti embroidery and copious midriff revealed, was almost too easy. So it’s true, Vasu thought to himself. She’s not a fifty-year-old hag. Or ugly. A slow smile broke out across his face. The burden of being bound to Chitrita for the rest of his life was lessened slightly by the fact that he liked what he saw. Feeling the tension break, he said pleasantly, “Hullo, Rita.” His shoulders did an athletic, panther-like bob as he sauntered into the room, oblivious and uncaring to the fact that he hadn’t been invited. Her voice was dripping with venom as she congratulated him on his championship, but it only made Vasu’s smile grow wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous. Lost out to the jolly white giant of Mahoutokoro, did you? No worries, I’d be burning with envy too.”
As if she’d lost interest in Vasu, Chitrita’s eyes dropped back to her piano and she began plunking out notes. Despite the half-hearted, one-handed attempt, they rang out gracefully. Vasu’s eyes did a cursory sweep of the room. Sheet music was propped on music stands, at least the ones that were upright. Several laid on their sides, having been knocked over, and the film of dust that coated the strings of a harp gave the impression that the music room had been abandoned since the end of the spring semester. Several heavy black instrument cases littered the floor, the lid of one thrown back to reveal the tarnished brass of a saxophone. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he returned his gaze to his fiancée.
Chitrita’s next words were spoken in an idle undertone, so low that he had to strain to hear her over the piano. Ugh, did she really call her parents Baba and Amma? How stuffy. Vasu preferred saying Mum and Da, thinking the trendy Western slang made him sound cooler, more modern. Sensing that he was playing into her hands but not caring, he came closer. “You’re younger than I imagined,” he returned, her barb failing to have wiped the smile from his face. If anything, it encouraged him. “Much prettier, too. But if my height’s a problem, we can always check if Locjaw is on the marriage market.”
For illogical reasons, whatever demon had taken hold inside of Vasu was hellbent on impressing Chitrita Pawar. From the way she droned on about her expectations of him, it sounded as though she’d conducted a small investigation into him. Vasu, on the contrary, had known nothing about Chitrita prior to today, except the fact that she was ostensibly a student at Mahoutokoro. He hadn’t even known if she was a real person or just a mind game that Aditi had invented to manipulate him. Dreading the day that he was sold off to some stranger he’d never met like a lamb to market, Vasu hadn’t attempted to research Chitrita at all. Confirmation of her existence would have made the engagement feel all too real. Thus, not having known her face, he’d been taken aback to hear her name announced on the stage at the beginning of the Opening Ceremony. To put it lightly.
Determined to wrest Chitrita’s attention away from the piano and back onto himself, Vasu boldly slid onto the bench beside her, his shoulder a fraction of an inch from brushing hers. Her collar bone formed an attractive divot just visible beneath her choker, and her bangs shadowed her eyes. He drank in a perfume that smelled of mandarin orange and rosemary. When this failed to make her look at him, he purred, “And just how comprehensive were these pictures of me?” His lips curved into a depraved smile. An invitation. Adrenaline surged through his body. There was no going back now.
Chitrita stopped playing. Slowly looked up from the keys. And raised her brows at him in a way that suggested she was supremely unimpressed with his flirting. Vasu’s spirits plummeted. He suddenly felt foolish for thinking he had a chance with this older, beautiful, and likely much more experienced girl. At least for tonight. Ignoring his question, she changed the subject, asking if he played. “Yeah, a little,” he said blandly, his bravado crushed. He cleared his throat as he placed his right hand on the keys. Vasu didn’t have to think long or hard about what to play; he was good at coming up with ideas on the spot. He started at Middle B and played a jaunty, up-tempo tune, fingers quick and fleeting on the black keys and holding quarter notes on the white ones. The intro to “Sinnerman” was one of the first pieces he’d taught himself. It was simple enough, but it was a long song, and just as Vasu was approaching the much more complex bridge, the tension in his hand boiled over. His fingers slipped once, twice, and a discordant cluster of sharp notes jangled out.
Yet Chitrita’s soft laughter at his mistake was twice as loud in Vasu’s ears. His inarticulate shame felt as hot as a sudden fever. Loath to continue, Vasu pulled away from the piano, but regretted it immediately because his eyes met Chitrita’s, where she was sure to read his flush of embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, so I’m not as good as you, so what? I said I only play a little,” he retorted petulantly. He flexed his aching right hand and cracked just about every knuckle in it, including the joint at the base of the thumb, which tended to inspire a cringe in observers. “Stringed instruments are more my forte. Now, tell me, Rita,” he said, trying to redirect the conversation from his own incompetence. Remembering the whole reason he’d been exploring the castle to begin with. “Are there any games you enjoy playing? And wagering on them?”
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Peter Parker
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WanderLust.
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Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)
Beauxbatons - Female - Muggle Born - Secondary
The rest of the dances had been as delightful as the first few though Naomi had to admit she was disappointed not to dance with Vasu. She enjoyed his presence and from what she glanced between the many spinning bodies it looked as though he knew a thing or two about dancing. Though she doubted it Naomi wondered if she might be able to convince him to dance with her another time. To some, the idea of asking a member of the opposite sex to dance might hint that there was some sort of romantic attraction but for Naomi, it was simply that she appreciated Vasu for being Vasu. There was no romance involved, it was simply the seemingly unlikely friendship they had formed that sprouted the desire to want to share a dance with him. She was far from jealous though as she was delighted to dance each name that was on her card. Lis had been sweet and she wondered if he might want to dance with her again one day as well.
Sitting through the announcements of who would be champion from each school the young pale-haired female felt as though the air sparked with newborn excitement upon hearing Raphael’s name called. Of course, she had wanted to compete as a champion for Beauxbaton but she was just as delighted to support her friend and perhaps even more so if she was being honest. As much as she was a competitor she felt she had little on Raph’s competitive spirit. She competed to challenge herself, to push towards accomplishing something she hadn’t done before, Raph competed to beat others, he was someone who was more than driven to win. In a competition such as this tournament, she had no doubts that the young man would thrive under the intense pressure. “Congratulations Raph!” She beamed at him and looped her arms around his torso in a celebratory hug. “Your indomitable spirit will be a shining representation of our school.” She praised the young blonde male in her usual odd, formal, yet also undeniably genuine way of speaking. “Anything I can do to help along the way please just ask. A structure cannot stand without supports and I do not intend to be a weak beam.” She promised and knew very well that no one on their team would ever let the others down. Raph, Kiara and herself were all here to help act as pillars of strength for one another in this grand display of international school pride.
Soon Raph was splitting off to go speak with a girl Naomi believed to be named Gavriel. Turning in her seat the petite blonde tilted her head and looked toward Kiara. “You would have made an excellent champion as well. Perhaps a trial will come in which we all get to compete?” She blinked with warmth towards her schoolmate. “And I know that you will also be eager to support Raph. I think our main job will be to make sure his appetite is taken care of.” She joked playfully. From her experience, Raph almost always had the desire to eat. It made sense due to how much he worked out and ran around. His metabolism was likely through the roof so he would need to pack in as much food as he could. Naomi was always impressed by him during quidditch season and tended to pack herself an extra two snacks for him to enjoy during their breaks on the field. “You look beautiful tonight. A vision of frost.” She added knowing she hadn’t had a chance to say it earlier but it had been her initial thought upon spotting her beautiful classmate in her blue gown.
Mentions: Raph
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Colder Than Hell and Worse Than Death...
Odinson LocJaw
"The Young Giant"
Mood: Frustrated and Overjoyed Year: 10 Location: Ilvermorny Role: Champion Outfit: Clicky!
As soon as the loud noise echoed throughout the endless halls of the Ilvermorny school from afar Odinson retrieved his wand from its resting place in the interior lining of his dress jacket, it was instinct from his years of dueling, and because of it, he had learned to trust his gut. He stood still for minutes, listening and paying close attention to his surroundings, anything from the smallest ripple in water to a barely hearable jingle of a chandelier, Odinson knew about it. “Everyone duck!” Odinson shouted, raising his wand above his head he cast the Protego Horibilis charm, creating a small dome around him and a few other Ilvermorny students that protected them from the falling debris.
As the seemingly endless barrage of falling stones came to a close Odinson began to help the other students, many, if not all, were uninjured, just severely shaken. However what truly surprised, no, intrigued him was the movement of the house mascots as they came to announce the Champions of the Octowizard Tournament. The Horned Serpent slithered into the room, its voice carried throughout the halls as it spoke, it named Clara Winter champion of Durmstrung, the Puckwudgie did the same with the Uagadou student and the Thunderbird with its student. Though it was the Wampus and it’s towering stature that drew all of the students attention, Its voice was no sound for the faint of ears, it spoke of one Theodore West, a boy that Odinson had met many minutes prior, and another boy, one whose name Odinson had not even heard, Vasu, this made the young giant take a look around the hall, his height having returned just in time for him to see the Koldovstretz boys reaction, nothing but a look of relief fell before him. “I choose those with the bravest of hearts to fight for their schools honor. And I name Odinson LocJaw for the Mahoutokoro School of Magic.” A choice that made Odinson smile.
Dinner had passed by fast, which was far more than unfortunate for Odinsons behalf as the young male loved to eat, even more than he loved to drink. As the night grew late Odinson had grown bored of standing around seemingly doing nothing, so he had decided to walk around the ballroom and examine the faces of all the students around.
Aviator
- Vasu
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Gavriel Sylvie
Ilvermorny - Female - Half-Blood - Champion
Excitement hummed through her veins like electricity as Gavy took in the fact that she would be representing Ilvermorny in the tournament. She had been chosen to be the champion for her school and if her eyes had been a blaze of bright blue before they were a nebula of colors mimicking a galaxy now. Purples, blues, and yellows swirled together as inspiration, excitement, and joy flooded her system. The shades all flowed together giving off how one might imagine the beautiful colorful hair of a mermaid from a children's book may look, nothing like how the seafolk were in reality. Looking over at Ramona she gave them a smile and hoped that they weren’t too upset to have not been chosen. Ramona would have been an amazing champion as well and Gavy hoped that they wouldn’t mind operating as her secondary, there to have her back in case anything happened that made it so Gavy couldn’t compete and to help her figure out clues from task to task.
She was already on her feet when a familiar voice sounded behind her and she turned to see Raph gracing her with a warm smile that looked so natural upon his face, like the sun in the sky. “Congrats to you too!” She beamed and without nudged his shoulder with her own. “Honestly I am excited to compete against you! I know you won’t hold back and I like the challenge.” She admitted, her words flowing as freely as ever. Hearing his suggestion of gathering a group together to hangout she shook her head. “Nope! No plans! I think getting the gang together to celebrate sounds like a great idea!” She agreed and instantly began searching the room for familiar faces. It might seem odd to some that just a few hours after meeting Gavy was already referring to the group as ‘the gang’ but if the shoe fit she wasn’t gonna call it anything else. They had all clearly meshed well together on the train and they seemed friendly enough that others would be able to join and leave as they wanted without it being taken as a personal slight or inconvenience. Besides, they had all already bonded over food which by Gavy’s standards meant they were practically bonded for life.
“Oh!” Gavy’s eyes widened as she stood on her tiptoes and pointed through the crowd. “Isn’t that Cosmo over there?” She asked Raph as she indicated in the direction of a trio including a light-haired male, a dark-haired female, and the broad familiar shoulders and dark hair of their friend from the train. “I bet that’s probably his sister with him…Clara right?” She continued as it took her a second to recall the name Cosmo had mentioned quite a few times on the train. Taking Raph’s hand in hers she smiled back at him before charging through the crowd towards Cosmo and his little gang. “Hey Cosmo! Raph had the idea of getting a group together to hang out. You in? Your friends are more than welcome to join too.” She greeted as she and Raph approached, wanting to make sure Raph got the credit for his wonderful idea. “I could show y’all the secret snack closet the house elves don’t want you to know about.” She added with a wink as her eyes flared a pale red almost coral shade that indicated she was feeling mischievous (FF7B7B). “Congrats on being named champion by the way.” She added as she turned to the girl and gave her a friendly wink. “Raph and I will see you on the field or wherever the challenges take place.” She chuckled.
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i never know whats goin on
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the ghost of pimping past
Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “Magnificent Bastard” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
Cha-Cha was just about to turn the last corner to the kitchen when a stray glance told him that Lis was no longer following him. The Muffliato spell that Lis had cast wasn’t perfect, because instead of its intended purpose to enshroud them in a small bubble of sound, it rendered them less audible to each other. Since raising their voices was dangerous to the job, Cha-Cha and Lis managed to communicate by standing very close to each other and eliminating the background noise they could, such as their footsteps. On top of that, Cha-Cha knew that Lis had a hearing problem, and Cha-Cha spoke English with an accent, so he was uncertain how many of his words were actually being understood.
Apparently, Lis understood him well enough to ask a question. Because as Cha-Cha smothered his annoyance at the time cost and rejoined Lis where he’d paused halfway down the previous hall, that’s exactly what he did. He scuffed the hardwood floor with his shoes in a way that reminded Cha-Cha of a knobbly-jointed foal refusing to be led out to pasture. It appeared as though Lis wouldn’t be proceeding any further with the job until his question was answered. That didn’t mean Cha-Cha would give him a straightforward one, though.
Pushing aside his anxiety that standing around out in the open would blow their cover, Cha-Cha reminded himself to be patient with the boy and cleared his throat. Chewed over his next words like a tough piece of meat. “Gangs and politics have a lot in common, Lisandro,” Cha-Cha said finally, his voice as colorless and clear as window glass. “Wars, bribes, truces… The main difference being that in polite society, you poison your enemy at the dinner table rather than stab him in an alley. And after extensive experience with both, I’ve learned that it’s best to deal with a potential problem before it becomes my problem. That’s what we’re doing now. Being proactive. Does that make sense?”
Marcello Bellini had gotten the jump on him, appearing out of nowhere and making the first move. Two moves, actually, first trying to humiliate Cha-Cha publicly during the Opening Ceremony and then dredging up a personal memory and taunting him with it. The man had proven himself a skilled Legilimens, and with his malicious intentions, he was a threat. Now it was Cha-Cha’s move, and he planned to retaliate with such savagery that Bellini would be too intimidated to counterattack. One and done and don’t look back. That’s how he liked to do things.
He’d created the plan during the feast, when little conversation had been directed toward him and he’d used the lack of distraction to turn his thoughts into a process. He’d walked through each step in his head, visualizing the heat of the kitchen as he and Lisandro stole inside and the waxy smell of the cooking oil as it was emptied throughout Bellini’s chambers. It can be done, Cha-Cha had rationalized to himself, so it will be done. He would have no limitations. And he would make the next strutting cock of the yard think twice before he fucked with Chahaya Arif. It would be a message written in smoke and ashes. Lisandro and Ricky were instrumental to the plan because, with the myriad witnesses to the showdown with Bellini in the Great Hall, Cha-Cha was certain that he would be the primary suspect. He was certain that his wand would be traced for condemning spells recently cast. So if someone else were to perform the necessary magic to break in, and the fire was generated from a chemical reaction rather than a spell… Well then, Cha-Cha would be in the clear.
Wizards were a complacent bunch, and so investigations weren’t conducted as thoroughly as they were in the Muggle world. An assumption that all crimes were committed through magical means pervaded among Aurors, making it easy for people like Cha-Cha, who’d grown up solving problems with fists and shrewdness rather than magic, to game the system. When forensic technology was largely eschewed, crime was exponentially easier to get away with. Money was often just as powerful as magic, and it tended to be more discreet, as was the case with the House Elf that Cha-Cha had bought the wine and information from.
The bob of Lisandro’s throat as he swallowed was visible. He nodded his head in short, rapid strokes in response to Cha-Cha’s question, but he didn’t say anything, making Cha-Cha doubt that his spiel had made any sense. Not that he particularly cared; he needed Lisandro to do his bidding, not to understand it. At the latest, everything would make sense tomorrow, during the fallout when there was a culprit in need of finding. And Lis wouldn’t talk because he’d be equally culpable if he did. Lis had a damnable tendency to choke under pressure, but Cha-Cha trusted that the basic self-preservation instinct was there.
With Lis’s curiosity sated, he followed closely behind when Cha-Cha turned the last corner to the kitchen. Two mahogany double doors on swinging hinges labeled “NO” and “YES” in gold serif letters dictated the correct door to enter on either side. A long black rug extended out from beneath them, unraveling halfway down the hall. In case Lis’s wards weren’t all that thorough, Cha-Cha was glad for the extra padding to mute their footsteps. “They can’t see you, so be ready to dodge when they try to walk through you. Do not bump into anyone, and pull me out of the way if someone is on my back. The floor will be slippery, so be prepared,” Cha-Cha instructed, speaking low and fast.
They were within arm’s-length of the “YES” door when they encountered their first obstacle. A cook dressed in head-to-toe black with double-breasted gold buttons was laughing over his shoulder and not paying attention as he pushed open the wrong door. Not that it would have changed anything if he were, since Cha-Cha and Lis were concealed from sight. Cha-Cha took a neat step back to avoid the door smacking him in the face as it banged open, and then two more to the side, giving the chef a wide berth. But he’d been standing in front of Lis, obscuring the boy’s view, and when he moved Lis didn’t have much time to react to the oncoming cook. Cha-Cha leaned out enough to grab his wrist and yanked Lis out of the man’s path, his heart skipping a beat at the squeak of shoes and the little gasp of breath Lis emitted. But the cook barreled on undeterred, oblivious to any poorly-concealed intruders.
Cha-Cha looked down at Lis and cocked an eyebrow. “Do I need to do this alone while you wait outside for me?” he asked with perfect calm. He wasn’t angry; really, it took only one person to snatch the cooking oil, and while it’d be nice to have someone watch his back, he’d rather sneak in alone than have Lis’s clumsiness be the reason they were caught. Cha-Cha didn’t have a plan in the event that they were intercepted. Failure simply wasn’t an option, and he’d improvise if it came down to it. He’d use Legilimency, the weapon he was born to use, just as a tiger would use its fangs and claws to shred apart its dinner.
Lis shook his head. Cha-Cha breathed out and tried to believe that his student would be more of a help than a hindrance. Otherwise, how did he expect to believe that Lis had a shot at winning the tournament? Hopefully that Thunderbird statue had chosen him for good reason. “The kitchen is going to be loud and bright and crowded. Be ready.” Without further ado, he rolled his shoulders, turned back to the door, and cracked it open just enough to slide in sideways. It was a slow, smooth motion, as if a gust of air conditioning along the wide corridor had pushed it open. Perhaps no one would even notice the door drifting open. The sharper the motion, the more likely it was to draw stares.
True to Cha-Cha’s word, the kitchen was loud and bright and full of people, a combination of humans dressed in black and House Elves dressed in sheets. It was pushing eleven o’clock, dessert had already been served, and they were in the process of breaking down the kitchen for the night. A House Elf with a hose cried, “On your feet!” alerting the rest of the kitchen staff before he sprayed gouts of water across the floor, which then seeped into a drain underneath a counter with a coffee and tea dispenser. White-hot light glinted off stainless steel cooking appliances, and Cha-Cha’s eyes took a moment to adjust after the dimness of the hall. He carefully skirted the House Elf with the hose, aware that there’d be an obvious obstruction if the water hit either Lis or him. And if it hit Lis, there was a decent chance his concentration would be disrupted and the spell would crumble.
One chef was munching on the last French fries of the night from a wide silver bowl. A pair of House Elves was polishing and rolling silverware in linen napkins. Another human was going up and down the line, restocking boxes and styrofoam cups and plastic silverware. The air was slightly smoky and smelled of deep-fried seafood. Walking stiffly and trying not to slip across the wet floor, Cha-Cha rounded the line, beelining toward the massive door at the end of the kitchen marked “DRY STORAGE.” That was their best bet to find cooking oil and not run headfirst into any chefs. However, this door was sealed firmly shut, and opening it would be noticeable and hard to explain. Doing a circle to ensure that none of the staff were looking his way, Cha-Cha’s hand darted out and closed around a golden apple sitting on the line.
“Move,” he whispered to Lis, motioning for the boy to get out of the way. Lis complied, and Cha-Cha wound up with his right arm going behind his ear, took a step for power, and threw with all his strength. The apple cut through the air like a knife, making a swift and true arc for the rack of water glasses propped over the dishwash. The whole thing would hopefully come tumbling down, and short of that, it would still break one or two glasses, drawing attention in the opposite direction of the dry storage room.
But the chef who’d been restocking the line, now carrying a stack of dirty appliances under his arm that he was walking to the dishwash, had the misfortune to wander in front of the apple’s path just before it hit its mark. It clocked him in the head, and the momentum of the impact caused him to collapse against the dishwash, clawing at the metal surface for support. The plates rattled and fell to the floor in an explosion of white china shards. Looking a little disoriented but very furious, the man rubbed his head and turned, glaring for the perpetrator while the apple rolled across the floor and eventually settled atop the drain. Another chef had come around the line to ensure that he was okay and uncut from the falling plates, but he pushed away one of her reaching hands. “Who the fuck threw that bitch!” he bellowed into echoing silence. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him, motionless except for the coworker who’d tried to help and been rejected. “Someone is tryna provoke a reaction from me, and dammit, they gonna get it!”
Lis was watching the scene, riveted and horrified. Cha-Cha nudged him. “C’mon, Lis, now or never,” he whispered, pressing down on the handle as the dry storage door instructed and wrenching it open. There were bottles of ketchup and shakers of salt and pepper. Wide cans of pineapple juice. Bags of flour and blue-lidded bins full of sugar. Finally, Cha-Cha found what he was looking for. Bottles of translucent yellow liquid in plastic bottles with blue labels that read “Great Value.” Cha-Cha took two off the shelf, whirled, and thrust them into Lis’s hands, who was closer behind him than he’d anticipated and ended up almost punching with one of the bottles. Cha-Cha spun and took two more off the shelf, then herded Lis back out the way they’d come, as the space was too narrow for him to move around the broad-shouldered boy. “Don’t stop moving once you open the door. Book it out the kitchen because if anyone looks at us they’ll see floating bottles of cooking oil.” Lis asked why they needed four bottles of the stuff, and Cha-Cha replied wryly, “For insurance. Great value, indeed.”
In the main room of the kitchen, accusations about who’d thrown the apple were still running amok. Lis and Cha-Cha moved at a brisk clip toward the swinging doors. Cha-Cha was eyeing the chefs, making sure that no one was looking in their direction, not paying attention to the floor. Something snagged around his ankle and he pitched forward, dropping one of the plastic containers as he flailed for balance. The hose, red and snakelike as it wound across the floor. His curse was smothered by the loud splat! of the cooking oil smacking onto the floor, the golden liquid sloshing agitatedly inside. Heads whirled in his and Lisandro’s direction. “Go, go, go!” he hissed at Lis, not stopping to pick up the fallen container and banging through the mahogany doors. They ran down the hall like they were being pursued by demons, but thankfully, no one from the kitchen gave chase. They’d probably been too bewildered by the mystery of the floating cooking oil to react properly. Or maybe they were used to delinquent students breaking in and raiding the kitchen.
When Cha-Cha and Lis reached the library where they were to wait for Ricky, both of them were breathing hard. A stitch had begun to form in Cha-Cha’s side. He hadn’t run that hard in several months, the last time being when a horse that wasn’t supposed to leave the Castelobruxo stables had escaped her tether when Cha-Cha had taken her out for a ride, and he’d had to return the filly before anyone noticed she was missing. He set the single bottle of cooking oil he was carrying on a round, wooden tabletop and glanced at his watch. 10:59. Nice timing. “And now we wait,” he said to Lisandro, who, instead of being flushed with exertion, was as bloodless as if he’d seen a ghost. Or his professor’s true colors. “Ricky should be along shortly, if all goes according to plan. Until then, I’m gonna have a smoke.” Cha-Cha went for the left inside pocket of his jacket, where he always kept his cigarettes when he was appropriately clad, and shook one out of the black metal tin he carried them in. “Want one?”
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Professor Birger Einar
Durmstrang - Male - Pureblood - History of Magic Professor
With the champions named and the ceremony coming to an end Einar looked around to spy members of different schools running off with one another or flocking towards those they had just met earlier that evening. It made sense in the long run for the teams to begin strategizing and he noted that several professors were gathering their champions and secondaries to usher away for more private conversations. However, not all students seemed eager to do just that and thus when the old man’s pale gaze fell upon his own students he remained where he leaned against the wall with his cane in hand. They were among their peers, talking, clearly being invited along with another group from what he could see. With tonight being the party that it has been the elder professor saw no real reason to get down to business quite yet. That could be saved for the rising of a new dawn. Tomorrow he would find time early in the day, perhaps during or before breakfast, to meet with Cosmo and Clara in order to discuss the matters of the trials with them. If he knew anything about Clara she was likely already thinking of what had yet to come, and of course, Cosmo would be eager to compete in any challenge thrown his way. With or without him Einar was convinced his students would thrive in the tournament though he was more than delighted that it would likely be the former over the latter.
As the different groups began to split off Einar rose from his relaxed position against the wall and began to make his way across the banquette room, his wolf's head cane tapping in a constant rhythm with every step he took. The lights caught on his multi-shaded grey hair making it almost a frosted silver tone that was only enhanced by his ice-colored gaze that was as per usual far warmer than the shade would suggest. As he strolled through the crowd he noticed one of the young champions, a half-giant by the looks of it, standing alone. Wandering over Einar looked at him with a genuine smile on his aged features and nodded his head. “I believe congratulations are in order young LocJaw.” He boomed with the passion of olden Vikings celebrating a new victory. His gaze was shining with excitement for the young man whom he remembered being announced once during the initial introductions and then a second time during the ceremony. “Do not tell my students I have said this but I look forward to seeing you compete, I am certain it will be an experience to remember.” Einar beamed as he seemed genuinely delighted for the young man who stood before him.
The sound of voices behind him caused Einar’s attention to turn and he spotted one professor he had not had much chance to speak with yet. “Ah, Professor Bellamy.” He greeted with warmth in his tone as he raised the hand not holding his cane in greeting. “It looks like your champion is quite the spitfire. I am sure that energy will make for a fierce competitor in the tournament.” Einar nodded towards the young Hogwarts student, Theo West, who was further away. “Tell me, Bellamy, would you care to join me for a drink? I find that most of our students have taken it upon themselves to see that they are taken care of for now and I promise my pour will not be strong enough to keep you from your duties.” The elder professor offered as he slipped his flask out of his pocket, ever the social butterfly.
Mentions: Odinson
FROSTBITE4395
Bellamy
honeycoves
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
WanderLust.
WildFlower
coded by natasha.
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Aurelia Quansah
Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary
Auri’s smile widened when her classmate agreed to her proposition of disappearing into the courtyard of the new school for their first strategy meeting of the games. It wasn’t a surprise but it was still a delight to know Malaika was open to taking this seriously, not that she ever really doubted the girl. Others were gathering together for what looked to be an outing of sorts but Auri knew the importance of time and didn’t want Malaika to suffer not having enough of it to prepare because they had chosen fun over duty. Duty was something Auri took seriously, it was drilled into her head from a young age that duty should come before anything else. That was the way it was with leaders, they needed to remember that their duty to their people was greater than their duty to themselves, a sentiment she knew many might find fault with but to her it made sense. Just like now, she and Malaika were choosing their duty to their school over their duty to have fun with the others, besides Auri had little doubt that they could find a way to make this strategy meeting fun.
Taking the white-haired girl’s hand in hers the lioness of a woman strode out of the ballroom, making sure to keep at a pace where Malaika didn’t feel dragged. “I’m glad we were on the same page.” Auri smiled over her shoulder, a lightness in her tone to try and ensure her eagerness and take the bull by the horns mentality didn’t offend her classmate. She and Malaika didn’t know each other well after all. Sure they had some similarities, they were from the same school, they were both animagi, they both wanted to compete, but as far as personal lives they had seldom crossed. Maybe a class here or there, possibly sharing a table in the library, but nothing that had led to any true bonding between the two. That would have to change if they were to become as in sync as they needed to be for working together. They needed to be flawless, in perfect step so that if one needed to pick up the slack they would know just what to do.
Once they were out in the courtyard Auri found a secluded bench between several bushes and a fountain. Sitting down she patted the stone seat beside her, a silent invitation for Malaika to sit. “So, first I think it is important for the two of us to know our team.” She pointed out with a nod. “It makes sense that we should know so we can best aid each other if the need arises.” She explained though she figured that Malaika was likely already on the same page as her since they both seemed to be bright individuals. “Any questions you have for me?” She offered as a sign of willingness to share information about herself and make Malaika feel more at ease with being open since she was willing to go first. Auri hoped that they didn’t overlap too greatly in subject strengths and weaknesses. It would be nice for the former but if they both struggled with similar subjects then they were at risk of being vulnerable during certain challenges. While Malaika would be the one competing Auri knew she needed to be ready to step in at a moment's notice and also prepared to help Malaika problem-solve the challenges to come.
Mentions: Malaika
Wolfiee
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
Wolfiee
Meow
Malaika Odion
Uagadou Champion
coded by natasha.
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
A toxic wave of heat scorched up Vasu’s throat, and he faltered momentarily at the huge, unintended weight of the admission he’d just made. A smile flickered over Chitrita’s lips and she glanced away, as if she were on the verge of inappropriate laughter. He dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to finish what he’d started to say. “If you don’t want to hang out with me or sit near me in class or say hi to me in the halls, I understand. All I ask is that you don’t pretend as if you have no idea who I am, ‘kay? Don’t treat me like a st—”
Vasu’s lips were about to form the word stranger when a sharp turn of Chitrita’s head alerted him to the presence of someone in the music room with them. The only sources of illumination were the gentle flames guttering in the hall and a dim, golden lightbulb dangling on a chain above the piano he and Chitrita were sitting at, so the figure was largely cloaked in shadow to him. He could tell that it was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his silhouette revealing the tailcoat of a fine suit. Irritation prickled through Vasu. He didn’t appreciate an interruption with his girl on what he’d come to consider his territory, especially from one who didn’t even have the decency to knock. Vasu had risen halfway from the piano bench, about to inquire sourly, Can I help you? but the possibility that it was an Ilvermorny professor who’d walked in on them made him hold his tongue. He was fairly certain such a snide comment wasn’t what the Wine Man had had in mind when he’d urged Vasu to get off on the right foot with their foreign hosts.
The interloper sidled a few steps into the room, moving along a glass case that displayed various trophies and medals bestowed upon the Ilvermorny marching band. In the sudden void of conversation, Vasu became uncomfortably aware of the sound of Chitrita’s and his own breathing. The figure paused at the edge of the pool of dusty light cast above the piano, illuminating his features enough that, even without his mask, Vasu recognized one of the other boys who’d been circling the dance floor. In the semi-darkness, his tailored suit appeared the color of dried blood, at odds with the generic sandalwood cologne that seemed to be a favorite among white men.
If his face wasn’t enough for Vasu to link with a name, his voice was. The elongated vowels and softened consonants, the non-rhotic trill, were characteristic of a Cornish accent, indicating him as one of the Hogwarts representatives. Vasu remembered the Wampus cat prowling into the Great Hall, the two names that had preceded his in its announcement. And Odinson Locjaw had such a remarkable appearance that it was impossible to confuse him with a student of regular proportions. So chances were good that this was Theodore West, because Vasu had already met the other Hogwarts boy, Lanre, and he hadn’t been chosen.
Theodore’s eyes did a leisurely up-and-down of Chitrita. At least, as far down as they could go before the piano hid the rest. Disgust and indignation warred inside of Vasu. Checking girls out so blatantly was just indecent, let alone checking out his girl. Vasu felt a sudden impulse to reach inside the pocket of his sherwani where the gaudy, heavy onyx-and-jade engagement ring rested, and hurl it at Theodore West. Maybe a sharp smack between the eyes would communicate that she was off the menu.
Vasu snuck a look at Chitrita, but if she was offended by the ogling, she didn’t show it. “Pretty” felt like an inadequate word to describe her level of grandeur; was she used to it? Vasu discarded the thought, because it was a worrisome one. Nothing productive would come from imagining his bride fooling around with other men. Would it be inappropriate to ask her point-blank? Assuming it was a private conversation, did he care?
Theodore West’s voice penetrated the ear like slivers of ice. He carried himself with an air of insufferable hauteur, chest puffed out, wearing an expression halfway between a smile and a snarl that reminded Vasu of a cat with a mouthful of feathers. Even before taking his words of greeting into account, Vasu swiftly decided that he didn’t like Theordore. Somehow, the jab didn’t catch him by surprise. A steady calm gripped Vasu. It was the same sort of feeling he’d experienced when he and his father would take the family sailboat out onto the river when a storm was brewing on the horizon. Like Vasu felt ready for anything, and he was challenging fate to throw its worst at him.
Theo’s words fell hard, like a stone between them. Vasu cracked his neck to one side before he answered. “Actually, according to her family”—his gaze slid sideways toward Chitrita, and a flicker of warmth passed through him when their eyes locked—“I am exactly in her league.” Perhaps it was dangerous, alluding to the preordained union between them. Perhaps if Theo could figure out the puzzle that Vasu had nudged in his direction, it’d give him some kind of edge in the competition. Or worse, he’d blab his knowledge to all their peers. The fact that Vasu didn’t have the freedom to pursue any number of flirtations was something he wanted to keep secret. But Chitrita was a goddess, and the temptation to use her as a metric of his own worth had been too great. Vasu would look desirable by association, and even more importantly, it was evidence that proved Theodore wrong.
Vasu’s assertion prompted a snicker of disbelief from Theodore. Let him laugh, Vasu thought insouciantly, leaning back on his palms at the piano bench. We’ll see if he’s still laughing after the first challenge. Perhaps it was for the best that Theodore brushed off the comment and didn’t read too much into it, anyway. The Hogwarts student’s eyes glittered malevolently as they darted between Chitrita and Vasu, as if assessing a fortress for attack. The Colonizer, Vasu decided, returning the pensive stare. Theodore West reminded him overwhelmingly of the entitled Western tourists, with their sparkling water insistence and aversion to spices, who strutted through India as if it were still subject to the British Crown, using words like “unsightly” to describe the humidity as they fanned themselves with their resort brochures.
Vasu regarded the congratulations bestowed upon him with suspicion. He was unsure how to respond to a statement of how he “must be” feeling. Literature wasn’t Vasu’s strongest subject, but he was fairly certain there was an irony to be found there. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head back, as if he were questioning the quality of a purportedly solid-gold watch. “Theodore, isn’t it?” The older boy made a short scoffing sound that Vasu interpreted as agreement. “Well, Theordore, if memory serves, you’re a champion too. In which case I’m sure you can figure out my feelings on the topic, ‘cuz they’re prolly not too different from your own. Ballpark ‘em if you have to. I promise you don’t have to stretch your imagination too far, vivid as it must be.”
Vasu didn’t risk a glance over at Chitrita, unwilling to divulge his insecurity where she was concerned, but he hoped that in her eyes he was winning the showdown. That he was superior. So superior, in fact, that he was the only one who could hold her attention. Theodore was goading him—that much was obvious—but to what end? He probably thought that, since he was older and bigger than Vasu, he would probably seize the upper hand in a fight. Was that what he wanted? A duel here and now in the music hall to settle things until the arena? Vasu was aware that he was likely playing into Theodore’s hands by contemplating the merits of a fight, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give the Hogwarts boy one if push came to shove. Vasu was only so articulate with words. Sometimes he needed his wand and fists to hammer a point home. Just like he’d once done for Cosmo Winter, who’d had a broken arm at Christmastime to show for it.
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honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
code by valen t.
honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
code by valen t.
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