Event The Fall Ball (Masquerade)

~gggggDressggggg~gggggHair ggggg~ggggg Necklace ggggg~ggggg Mask ggggg~

Interacting with @Henry Knight
Mentioning dancers in general

Miranda gazed around in awe at the ballroom. It was creepy, but in a beautiful way. The lighting was good, but cast by flickering flames that left strange shadows to creep up the walls and form nightmarish shapes whenever one let their imagination wander too much. Miranda did her best to ignore them.

People flowed around her and Henry, but the masks and the light made it hard to distinguish individuals, especially since the majority of her focus was on the ghosts that mingled among the living. Most seemed right at home, dressed in elegant suits or robes, dancing to an unheard tune. However, a few were considerably odder, like the ghostly feline that seemed to be delighting in attacking decorations, though it did no good.

In fact, she was so absorbed in the decor that Henry had to repeat his words for her to finally hear him. "Er, dance?" Miranda glanced around a final time, then back to him. It took her a moment for the words to truly sink in, but once they did she smiled, albeit a bit nervously. Her meager dancing skills were quite rusty, after quitting her lessons as soon as her grand-parents weren't there to enforce them. And her parents had never bothered to continue the practice once they'd severed their ties with the rest of their family. "Sure...that is, if you're alright with it. And I warn you...I'm not the best dancer." Miranda might as well tell him already, so he wouldn't be surprised when they really did start dancing.

Apologies for the late reply

~ Dress ~ Hair ~ Bracelet ~ Ring ~ Teeth ~ Cloak ~ Shoes ~ Gloves ~ Necklace ~ Inspiration ~

English/French
Interacting with @Kaegan Chase

Sylvie fingered the ring she'd been sent as a part of her costume as she ad Kaegan entered the Ballroom, where the more formal "masquerade" was being held. Really, she didn't see what was so much better about it over a costume party. What was the fun of being all proper and formal when you could have fun? And better than that, eat candy? Really, there was no comparison. Not that Sylvie said anything out loud, but she was thinking it pretty hard, so that ought to count for something.

But no, apparently costume parties weren't good enough for her date...she'd have to have a discussion with him on that later. But not now. Now was the time for fun!

Upon entering the Ballroom, Sylvie's first thought was that the decorations were decidedly creepier. Sure, the Costume party had been Halloween themed as well, but in a more entertaining and children-friendly way. The Masquerade was simply...fancy.

She glanced over at Kaegan, for once at loss of words to say. He probably had a much better idea than she did of what to do...if it had been Sylvie's choice, she would've gone and bothered some of the ghosts that dotted the masked students in the crowd.

To most people, the dark-haired boy came off as, well hostile, or at the very least stiff and formal. At first, that had been Sylvie's view as well. But she'd caught sight of him quite a few times since her arrival at Hogwarts, and what she'd seen had changed her mind. Sylvie now knew that under his harsh exterior personality was something kinder - something she was determined to drag out during their evening together.

"So what now?" she asked, trying to prompt a conversation, her cheerful smile already in place.

Roleplaying| Santario Martin
Interacting| @Marion Davenport | @Thomas Lestrange | @Quinn Healy | @Nico Shymane | @Breana Oliveire - And anyone else in the Healy group I might have missed.
Mentioning| N/A
Open to Interactions

It would appear that the table of drinks and snacks was getting a little crowded, which was typical for people at a dance, especially if they had been dancing. Santario’s Silvered eyes looked over everyone before getting up from her seat and gently moving through people again. Trying to be somewhat seamless but at the same time not caring if someone were to stop her. It was then; however, she thought she saw a blonde she recognized. She could be entirely wrong, and if she was, there would be no harm in passing off a compliment on one’s attire. But the girl was done up fancy like the last event, and in another pink dress, black tulle overlay or not. She was almost sure she was correct.

Before passing her, Santario would stop and offer Marion Davenport a smile, allowing her French accent to be much thicker than usual. “Your dress is stunning.” Santario would try to pass it off as a comment from someone just making their way through the ballroom. She had no issue with Marion and genuinely felt bad for the loss of her friend, but in the end, the girls weren’t friends, and Marion was aligned with an enemy; pity really.

Santario would continue past Marion, thanking her in return if the girl in pink complimented her back. She would continue to make her way through the throng of people, not necessarily having a destination in mind, just wandering, that was until a very familiar-looking suit or well parts of a suit caught her eyes. Santario would make her way towards the entrance where she saw the suit, and as she got closer, there was no doubt in her mind as to the boy behind the mask. Her now silvered eyes would seek out his icy blues, and if she managed to catch them, she would silently mouth a word. A word that would shatter any doubt about exactly who she was underneath the mask, makeup, and contacts. Whether she caught his eye or not, she would move on, making her way down the other side of the ballroom.

She would, at this point, make her way over to Quinn Healy and crew. “Good evening, everyone. You all look wonderful!” While Santario looked quite a bit different with silver contacts and makeup that she would never usually wear, her silvery voice would be unmistakable to those that had met her before.
For the Mods

Owl for Interactions!
Finishing with @Katherine Labrouder

Past Posts: [I] [II] [III] [IV] [V] [VI]

Alexander watched as Katherine paused, eyes soft as he appraised her. He couldn't truly bring himself to care what she was thinking—perhaps running through her mental address book as he had, searching for the Baron name. The only reason someone asked directly for a family name was to do that. She obviously lacked the art of subtlety.

He wasn't sure if she'd drawn a blank or not. Maybe not, but again, it didn't matter to him what she thought of his family. What could she do?

At her words, Alexander offered her a final, parting smile. "Same to you, Miss Labrouder. You were wonderful," he replied. Wonderful indeed. Wonderful entertainment.

Turning away as she departed, the Durmstrang boy cradled his drink in graceful hands, weaving back through the crowd. Loitering near the drink table might have been a fine way to meet his next partner, but it was utterly untasteful.

Alexander adjusted his mask over his eyes, scanning the sea of people. He enjoyed masquerades—they always came with a mystery that he relished, adding another layer to every puzzle, every challenge that approached him. It was a good test of his skill; how fast could he feel someone out without knowledge of their name, their face, the way their brow furrowed or eyes twinkled in reaction to his words. Students were always a good warmup.

He suppressed a sigh, lifting the drink to his lips. It simply wasn't his style to approach first—for as long as he'd known, people had always come of their own accord anyway. He need not do more than smile and look pretty, posture clean but lax enough to seem welcoming. Patience. His next project would appear soon enough.

ACTION: N/A
───── ⋆ ─────
STA: 7 | EVA: 10 | STR: 6 | WIS: 8 | ARC: 3 | ACC: 6
Non-Human Enthusiast • Charmer

Interacting with @Atlas Reid

Ethen was getting somewhat distracted with each passing moment as he watched the bustle of the ballroom. He would continue to try and pick out anyone who might be his date to little avail only making him more nervous with each passing moment. When he was suddenly tapped on the shoulder, Ethen nearly lept from his skin but the easily recognizable voice reeled him back in.

Whirling around to find a lace black fox mask peering at him, a smile immediately flashed across his face. Her white dress looked perfect on her and he wasn't use to seeing the girl so put together. Generally, they were more covered in dirt than fine clothes and makeup. That said, the girl looked undeniably beautiful and Ethen found himself standing stupidly and silently for far too long as he stared wide-eyed at the girl. “You look...you are, you look are beautiful tonight,” he finally managed to say. He knew he jumbled the words but he didn’t care. His nerves were quickly fading into a simple excitement of being with her.

Then he remembered that she had asked if Ethen would share a dance with her. The music in the ballroom was dramatic to say the least and he wasn’t sure how to dance but he no longer cared. He just wanted to have fun with his best friend, even if it meant having no idea what he was doing. “Dance? Why yes of course my lady fox. I would be, how they say, honored!” Ethen said with a small laugh and short mocking bow.

As he rose, he snatched Atlas’ hand to move to the dance floor. Pulling the girl with him, he halted maintaining a poised and dramatic visage. Stepping closer and pacing one hand on Atlas’ hip suddenly, Ethen then stretched out his hand as far as he could. He had seen a movie with some ballroom dancing as a kid and was doing his best to imitate the dramatic movements but he knew it likely looked absurd. “My dear Atlas,” Ethen said meeting her eyes. “I have no idea what I am doing.”

With that, Ethen began moving and leading Atlas into a dramatic replication of ballroom dancing. He focused on each calculated step as the music filled his ears and tried to imagine that he actually knew what he was doing.

Reducio

*Permission of any godmoding of Atlas discussed and given by...Atlas*
Action: Beginning a dance the gods would be proud of with the ethereal Atlas
Stats:Stamina: 7/ Evasion: 7 / Strength: 5/ Wisdom: 8 / ArcPower: 6 / Accuracy: 7
Abilities:
Keen Eye | Calming Presence

Outfit | Mask

To say he wasn't a bit on edge would be a lie. Percival felt like a guitar string tightened far too much. One more twist of the tuning keys and he would snap in half. The last time he had been at a ball things had turned out rather badly. To top things all off Opeila had been acting somewhat weird lately. There was nothing too noticeable just a slight distance that seemed to develop between the two. Percival didn't know what problem had spurred her to act that way, but it was entirely possible he had just ignored it. Like many of his problems. The boy fussed over her his far longer than any of his dormmates. Resulting in him being the last one to leave the bathroom. For some reason, he felt like tonight had to go perfectly. An underlying dread and nervousness accompanied his jerky movements as he got his wavy hair to behave.

Percival brought his hands down after he finished fiddling with his hair. Gripping the porcelain sides of the sink hard enough that his knuckles turned white. He didn't know why his gut twisted up like he had gotten punched in the stomach. Percival narrowed his eyes at his reflection staring into his eyes. Things had to go smoothly, they just had to. Percival cleared his throat before picking up the porcelain mask that he had picked out for the Masquerade Ball. Slipping on the mask calmed him down for some reason. The majority of his face was covered by the mask, and it gave him a feeling of anonymity. Percival took a step back away from the mirror giving himself a once over. With a small nod, the boy turned and exited the bathroom into the dorm room.

He was almost ready to leave to go down to the Common Room. The boy knew he would need to hurry so that Opeila would not have to wait for him. He had already wasted too much time getting ready. Hopefully, fate would be on his side and Opeila would be late as well. Percival stood in the middle of the dorm as he debated on what he should do. He knew he really should leave now, but his gaze swung over to where his trunk lay at the foot of his bed. Percival's hand felt slightly tingly, and he knew which object he wanted to wrap his hand around. Almost in a daze, the boy walked over and opened the trunk. He knew exactly where the hidden knife lay, and a part of him ached to grab it. Like a child who wanted their safety blanket to fend off the monsters under their bed.

Percival's right hand twitched slightly, but he made no move to grab it. Bringing the knife would be a stupid idea on his part. If it somehow got lost, Selim would have his head on a silver platter. So instead, the boy grabbed his wand and wand holster. Percival reclosed his trunk before standing up and making his way out of the dorm room. The boy walked quickly down to the common room. Only beating Opeila down by a minute or two. The two made down to the Ballroom in complete silence. The distance between them made it feel like they were oceans apart. Percival couldn't bring himself to break the silence. Instead, he furrowed his brows as his mouth pressed into a straight line.

As they entered the ballroom, he was surprised to see Opeila just stop at the entrance to the Ball. Percival's brows furrowed together as he studied her for a second. It was then that he realized she looked a bit shook up. Maybe she was as anxious as he was. There hadn't been a ball since the spectacular fail of Blossom Ball. The memories of that night soured his tongue. Percival cleared his throat slightly offering his right arm out to Opeila. May I have this dance? he asked falling back on the etiquette that was drilled into him as a child. Percival hoped she would agree, it wasn't like they could stand in front of the entrance for the entire night. The boy's brows furrowed slightly underneath his mask as he waited for her answer.

[font=PT Serif]Interacting with @Carolyn Hunt, dancing. Minor observance. Semi-open to interact.
STA 5 | STR 3 | EVA 6 | WIS 10 | AP 9 | ACC 12
Fearless | Perfectionist | Charmer[/font]

As if presenting himself in a cordial fashion was not already hard enough, Thomas would have to urge his thoughts away from the unease a Gryffindor prefect provided. Not to say the boy was not prepared to answer for his actions. He was ready to defend his decisions, deny when necessary. The proof of his questionable relationships had no substance. Word of mouth only went so far, though it was discouraging to see his story has traveled to the ears of unknown peers.

Only four knew the truth of his story. Thomas did not know which of them has breached trust, but they would be dealt with accordingly. These gnawing rats, meddling in affairs they don’t belong, speaking of what they don’t understand. When the boy learns of this, it will contribute to his loss of trust in humanity. A gateway to despair. The catalyst that mutes the little voice in your head that says--no, you should not do that.

Transition to the theme for the year, escaping the comfort zone and performing actions inconsistent with his character. Exhibit A: Thomas opted to adhere to the customary formalities, at least for initial introductions. A warm smile, a friendly gesture, a positive comment about the other’s appearance---easy enough. “Maria.” If her look in his direction lacked familiarity, he would tilt his mask to the side, revealing the majority of his visage. “Nice to see you again.” He spoke calmly, yet unfeigned, he was not the type to embellish.

Her fashionably late arrival was noted. Perhaps left mulling over the decision to join the boy. It was hard to blame any reluctance she may have had, given her first impression was a shirtless swaggering and taunting boy. A boy who preceded to stand in a ring idly talking to Vlad himself. So yes, regardless of the time, her arrival was a win. “Blue suits you.” He motioned to the entry doors, casting one last glance at the Gryffindor prefect (@Meenauh Silmataurea) before leaving her presence for good. It was just the beginning.

Thomas would walk at Maria’s side, readily listening if she spoke. Though his gaze transitioned from one peer to another, in search of familiarity. Hard to find in a sea of masks, but one girl in particular caught his eye. Her silver eyes ( @Santario Martin ) stared directly at him, though the word she mouthed was an unmistakable indicator. Thomas' lips curled up slightly, offering a message of his own. Forgot the scythe. He would note her unique outfit, intermittently keeping an eye on her. Putting any stir of thoughts to rest that wondered why she was not the one at his side.

Though Santario knew as well as Thomas, these congregations, while fancy at the surface--quickly devolved to survival of the fittest. Separation was key, he knew where to call if a helping hand was needed, and so did she.

He turned to the one he intended to focus on, Maria Dee. Their status as a blind date warranted bypassing a spin on the dance floor, combined with Thomas’ inadequate skill set. Athleticism did not automatically translate to artistry. The boy would continue towards a set of tables on the periphery with a nicely assorted collection of drinks and snacks. If Maria had not already broken the silence, the boy would choose the time to do so. “You accepted.” He mentioned in between retrieving three drinking cups. He handed one to Maria, though if she declined he would simply return it to the set.

“I did not expect that.” He said bluntly, though perhaps his reputation was not as dastardly as perceived. Thomas would fill the pair of cups with pumpkin juice, one in each hand. Allowing Maria the time to choose her beverage of choice. Then the boy would find a spot amidst the crowd on the outskirts. His frame was centered to the dance floor, turning to Maria when words were shared. His blue eyes narrowed, actively scanning the crowd. Where is she.

Seeing Ethen jolt at her touch made the young girl smile as she knew he was probably feeling as high strung and nervous as she was. She couldn't see his face at all with the wolf mask covering its entirety; a move she presumed her father pulled so she wouldn't be able to steal her first kiss.

His warm and inviting eyes were vibrant and starstruck as the two shared a long moment of silence before Ethen attempted to break the tension. “You look...you are, you look are beautiful tonight,”he stammered out as Atlas gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You look se--uh pretty gorgeous like -- I uhh the suit looks really good on you, the shoes are so shiny!" Puffing out her cheeks, Atlas could already tell they were vibrant red and unfortunately, her mask did nothing to shroud them. How was it that the two of them could talk for hours enjoying each other's company relentlessly but put them in dress clothes and immediately they became floundering fish?

Reminding Atlas that she had asked to dance, Ethen comically bowed and agreed to her request immediately bringing her nerves back to the forefront. I asked to dance?! I don't know how to dance...I've never danced...What the hell was I thinking?! Gulping, Atlas did a quick curtsy as Ethen took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Quickly turning her head, Atlas looked to see if anyone was staring at them as not many people had gone to the dance floor yet.

The music was dramatic and intense as Atlas couldn't even begin to figure out how to dance to it but all her thoughts, insecurities and nerves went fuzzy as Ethen pulled Atlas closer to him placing his hand on her hip. Pulling her other hand out to the side interlocked with his, Atlas met Ethen's eyes,

"My dear Atlas, I have no idea what I am doing."
"Me neither, my Tebo..."

Kiss him. Wait what?! No oh god Shhh mind! He's my best friend!

Following Ethen's lead, the two clumsily danced across the floor as Atlas could not pull her focus from his eyes except to casually and coyly look to the ground when she felt their nerves increasing. She had no idea how they looked to their peers but in that moment none of it mattered. Atlas felt like a princess and she had no idea if this evening would progress their relationship but something told her that they were no longer going to see each other as just best friends.

ACTION: Dancing or Attempting to Dance with Ethen!

Reducio

Any godmodding has been agreed upon by both parties i.e. Atlas and Ethen

STATS:
Stamina: 8
Evasion: 8
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 7
Arc. Power: 7
Accuracy: 8

ABILITIES:
Fearless
Effect: Fear effects such as a dhmpir's aura, the ability terrible presence, a lycanothrope's intimidation or certain charms, potions and jinxes that would normally cause a fear effect do not work on you as you are immune to them.

Atlas's Dress and New Hair:

Reducio

interaction status @Amara Dragamior as Lucas D.
mentions @Willow Anderson as Everett B., Rafa, NPCs

position dance floor, waltzing
previous posts 1 2

The weaving of the crowd- though this time in a three-piece suit deliberately avoiding ballgowns and dragging fabric- was a familiar thing to our dear Johann, though quite usually with the aid of his boys, a few skateboards and high buildings. His mind focused on getting from one side to another to greet his high society date of the night.

While just out of hearing range, it wasn't hard to guess what had been said. Biting back a sharp smirk of amusement and the snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, Johann paused to allow someone to cross by with their own dates in hand and turned his attention to the side to track exactly who or what Lucas was calling such a word. And suddenly his feet were rooted to the ground for just a second too long because the shock was blooming and he was experiencing what felt like all five stages of grief all at once because-

The familiar frame, the slicked dark hair- even with the side view it was very clear who caught his date's appreciative look. You know, he hadn't gotten a single word back from Rett after summer camp, though they had shared such a moment. Though his heart had been caught in some spark of- if not romance then in friendship-. Nothing for three months straight. No hide nor hair of the American and then isn't it just his luck that he manages to walk by and- God he felt like such a fool suddenly, god he felt like an idiot. In a matching suit of fine maroon- Johannes still remembered the way that the sun caught against those eyes and the London turf, the dazed rush of it- stood ever-pretty Everett 'babe' Brooks, caught in a chaste kiss with some other Johannes didn't have the heart to decipher.

A sharp jolt of choking dread ran through Johannes at the mere sight of it, suddenly reaching up from where it had laid festering to steal the breath away from his lungs as he averted his burning gaze- he had caught only a flash of them before panic overtook, his heartbeat kicking up even as he kept himself just as properly jaunty as all expected him to. Panic well concealed and yet running rampant at the same time. Goddamn it, he should have known. This was bound to happen, he knew it from the beginning. He should have known better than to share a part of himself with the American babe. His Hellhounds were right when they warned him against getting so attached to someone who lived so far away- with someone who could easily pass him up for a shinier plaything without a second thought, with someone who didn't care enough to make any form of further communication. Apparently, they were right.

It hurt. This maelstrom of conflicting emotions that bubbled and boiled with the heat of undeserved betrayal. He had been taken in with the Southern charm and honeyed words, but Rett could not unintentionally ruin his night just as his family attempted. Nay, Johannes was above that. He might be impulsive- a nuisance on the best of days and a right bastard on most- but he was at least mature enough to feel happy that Rett had found someone, even if his heart had been pulled to the seams. Maybe he had just been a practice? Perhaps that sun-golden afternoon had been a farce. Some selfish, selfless part of Johann hoped that the Ilvermorny's new beau wouldn't suffer the same fate as he did. He wouldn't even be mad if Rett deigned not to speak to him again, only disappointed. God. No, no, Johannes shan't dwell on it, he had no right to think this way. He had every right to feel this way. Rett had flown the nest, could find happiness with someone who could be as straight-laced and proper as he could not achieve. Johannes did not have to sulk over someone else's joy- he had his own bloom of interest at this very moment.

After all, our German had come with the promise of someone else, someone with sweet poetry and the commitment to show up. A someone else who had allowed him to grin even countries apart with nothing more than a sealed letter. A slowing of time- for merely a second but a powerful one nonetheless- as Johannes pulled his gaze up and morengo met the sky. Oh, but how dashing did his dear Lucas look in the warm candlelight, backdropped by gothic elegance and the sound of the storm outside- that pale mask a sharp contrast against the rich inky suit the Dragamior donned, a delicate string of chains looping from the peaked lapel to curl toward the pocket. With such silver-spun hair and brilliant blue eyes, there was a flash of half-forgotten memories- dust-covered recollections of fairytales that wove stories of handsome princes venturing to rescue the hand of their fair ladies. How devilish Johannes felt to dare approach with a hopeful spark, to dare steal away such an enchanting saint. Like the Ambrozys had snidely said to him in the past, he was going to taint all who held his acquaintance. Might as well enjoy it.

He could not push down the pull of a sweet fondness that tugged at him as his date greeted him, a playful little grin chasing at his expression. With such a gentlemanly manner Johann had long-estranged himself from himself, there was no denying that Lucas exuded the same brand of easy elegance as their letters of communication, over a month prior. He was no swooning weak-hearted maiden but he could allow himself to be wooed, even for a night, even out of his usual fare.

It was an easy thing, really, for Johannes to follow Lucas' gentle lead toward the already healthily occupied dance floor, to allow the blonde to take charge of the smooth waltz. The feeling of feeling out of place in such an environment soon overpowered by warm familiarity and intimacy as they swayed gracefully to the music. In the face of such a confident suitor of his heart, it was very difficult indeed to allow himself to sink into the darker parts of his mind. It was so much easier to delay the inevitable. [IN RUSSIAN] "Better now that I am with you. And you, love?" A combination of muscle memory and trust that surely would have baffled his instructors who had rightfully anticipated he be the drive of the dance many years ago.

A waltz. How romantic. How fitting.

Action: Angst, Internal Panic. C'mon just dance it off.

Abilities: Foul play, Charmer, Evasive Manoeuvres

Stats: Sta 7 | Eva 8 | Str 8 | Wis 6 | Arc 7 | Acc 9

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