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America vs England; Year 4 - Summer - WC Day 2/First Round
Topic Started: Dec 3 2014, 01:47:36 PM (3,339 Views)
Rhys Carrow
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Rhys let out a lengthy sigh, "You're just looking for excuses because you're nervous." The Hufflepuff badgered, feeling that there was no better time to check on someone's well being than in a crisis. Besides, if it was Scott, it wouldn't really be the same thing that would happen if Rhys went up. Scott was too much of a pansy to say what was actually on his mind half the time, especially in regards to girls. Some people called might call that respectful.

"Dude, why don't we have secret signals?" Rhys wasn't overly interested in making an ass of himself in front of McKelvey Sr. Something like that was bound to get back to his parents.

A voice cut through the stadium, asking that people evacuate and Rhy's eyebrows rose in amusement. It seemed, just as they were being told to evacuate, a lot more people entered the VIP box. Frankly, there were so many people in here that Rhys was feeling a tab claustrophobic. He was used to large, hardly occupied, rooms.

All this talk of murder was terribly off putting, wasn't it? Rhys kept quiet, as he was used to, around those older than him. Someone would decide what was happening, and he would go along with it. Eventually, he would meet up with his parents. Although he doubted if they noticed he was gone from their company.
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Jessica Weasley
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Charms Professor

Jessica looked around the room as she stepped away from the door; there was a weird silence among them. It was something which she couldn’t really explain, but Jessica knew that she would find out soon enough. They needed to get out of the stadium as a whole and get back to the tent; the team decided that they would have a small party out in a secluded area of the campgrounds on the night so that they could really celebrate their win. Jessica walked through the crowed and put her hand on Scott’s shoulder. “You alright? I didn’t see you down here earlier.” Jessica asked raising her eyebrow and looking at Scott who shrugged.

“I was a few stands up with Rhys.” Scott said nodding to his friend.

“Aaah. Rhys. I’ve heard about you, it’s nice to meet Scott’s best friend.” Jessica smiled and then turned to the rest of the box. “Shall we head off?”
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earth elementum
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Theodore Wickham
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IMPERATOR

”Vera was the angel her mother destroyed…”

Theodore’s gaze slowly slid away from Ioanna MacGowan’s gentle face. His ragged breathing fell silent, a moment of clarity ebbing in his brain as he trained his sight on a sobbing Precious Lestrange. Theodore wondered: Did she weep because she lost a child, or did she cry because she no longer had a pet to heed to her every command? If Theodore could recall, Vera had not always been apathetic. Her sociopathic behavior was learned and encouraged from their mother.

Both Wickham twins had kills under their belt, and Theodore suddenly realized they were never punished for their actions. Shoshanna Mimieux’s parents would always believe their daughter, the essence of French beauty and grace, had perished in the maze fire rather than with hands tightening around her throat. Precious Lestrange had mastered the art of deception, and Theodore allowed her to bury the secret within the ashes and swallow the key. Vera was the angel that Precious had destroyed.

”She wants you to live, Theodore…”

He finally released Ioanna and sat upright, his circle of spectators stepping behind to allow him room to move. Theodore rubbed his sore eyes with a trembling fist, manifesting a powerful self-control in order to refrain from storming out of the box. He pushed his hand through his hair, a million thoughts and questions running through his mind as he attempted to gather himself. He glanced around and indexed the faces that remained behind: Dean and Dolly, Bradley, Annik, Ariella, Ioanna, Justin, Precious, Jax, Collin, Andromeda, Oliver, Richard and Jane. The rest had fleeted in a moment of panic. Theodore would always remember their faces.

"She wants you to live."

Rage, rage against the dying of the light!

Whatever can happen, will happen. Theodore pulled his hands into tight fists, a glower in his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. He had had enough of the sorrow; he needed confirmation. He needed to see his sister. Teddy turned and faced Jax and Precious.

Jax noted the urgency on Theodore’s face and nodded understandably. ”I’ve got word that Vera has been moved to the castle,” Jax announced. ”We will head there.”

Precious’s wails were interrupted with a loud CRACK! as the Lestranges apparated out of the box.

Crack!

Max and Oliver Rowle quickly followed.

Annik, holding onto Richard and Andromeda’s sleeves, disapparated out of the stadium.

Teddy remained in the silence, unsure of how to react. He faced Victor with the sting of tears in his eyes. ”Vera loved you,” he mumbled, ”don’t you ever forget that.”

And then he disappeared in a cloud of black fog.
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T.J.W

there's something about you, it's hard to explain...
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Victor Malfoy
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how many secrets can you keep?

Everyone began to disappear around him, Victor snapped his head around unsure of what was happening or where everyone was going. He wanted to go with them; did they know something he didn’t? Victor gulped and turned to look at Theodore as he muttered something which hit Victor like a ton of bricks. It all sunk in suddenly, and it felt unbearable. As Teddy disappeared in front of his eyes Victor felt hands squeeze on his shoulders harder.

“Come on, let’s go.” Victor’s father said firmly, and with that they too disappeared from the box, apparating to their tent back in the campgrounds.
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Pandora Abel
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Don't be delicate. Be vast and brilliant.

Pandora knew she could lie. In the way that it was possible for her to lie. But keeping the strain off of her face meant going completely impassive, and more to the point, it wasn't something she wanted to do. So it wasn't really an option.

Openness was a habit built on trust between two people, and Pandora had built it with Dave McKelvey. So she put on a smile she could tell was weak and turned to him. "Not great." she admitted, turning her eyes back to the sky. "I wish I could do something." Fight or flight. Neither of those options were "sit on your ass and hope it goes away". Even if Professor McKelvey had a point. Pandora was a fighter. Or she liked to think she was.

She swallowed. Merlin, why were they so high up? Pandora was not afraid of heights. If she was, Quidditch would be hell. It was just being so far off the ground in a high pressure situation that was a little nerve wracking. But that wasn't a height thing. Her wand was in her left hand, a finger continuously tapping on the handle. Pandora figured she must have grabbed it. She hadn't noticed.

All of a sudden, she grabbed Dave's hand with her right and threaded her fingers through his. It could be interpreted as a move to keep from being separated in the chaos that was sure to ensue now, but it was also a ground, drawing strength from him. Not that it wasn't to keep from being separated, because it was.

As soon as she heard the news about death, Pandora was pretty sure that she was going to be sick. Except now is so not the time. You can be sick later. That was a form of fear, one she could not afford this instant.

"What's the plan?" She guessed they were about to get out of the stadium, but if anyone was panicking, the spectators were going to be stampeding at this point.
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Thank you to Jenn who is awesome <3
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Ioanna MacGowan
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Cold

Ioanna remained in practically the same position on the floor, even as Teddy released her and moved away. Her hand remained outstretched. She felt...hollow, as if Teddy had drained her of any ability to substantiate her own feelings. Her eyes were still two large moons reflecting the light of the stadium. Her mouth hung open ever so slightly, as she struggled to ground her emotions in words needed to express them.

She was alive. Teddy hadn't smashed her to a pulp, and neither had Precious. She'd reached his heart. For once, her powers didn't seem so much like a curse.

Ioanna took a deep breath and lowered her hand. She didn't get up. She felt too drained to get up. She remained with her pale white legs tucked under her black dress. Her big moon eyes remained locked on to the stop where Teddy had just been, caught up in his gravitational pull.

"Not even a thank you," she said, more to herself than to Ariella, whom she'd just remembered was still behind her. Still on the ground, she twisted her upper body until her eyes met her sister, turned away from the light of the stadium, her moon-eyes turned darker, though the unreleased tears inside still sparkled solemnly in the light of the spectator's box. "I guess nobody ever does thank the Grim Reaper," Ioanna said to her sister, with a small, mirthless smile, "You alright?"

Ioanna saw that her sister was crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks, stadium lights dancing across her wet face. Ioanna stood up and went to her. She closed her arms around her sister's middle, holding her even though she was bigger.

"Hey," she said, "You can cry in front of me. I'm not like them, okay? But we do need to get out of here soon."

She rested her head against her sister.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she said.
Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 26 2014, 07:28:05 PM.
Posted ImageAll your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down
She's just like you
So why keep doing what you do
Why cut a friend
Posted ImageBut you were my favorite moment
Of our dead century
Posted ImageBut your heart can't grieve
For your little dreams
Oh no your heart can't grieve
Not for your little dreams
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Ariella de Pointe du Lac
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A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

Tinsley Carmichael was pacing back and forth, her sharp stilettos stabbing the hardwood floors. Her beady eyes, hawk-like, snapped to Ariella every now and then, as if frightened that the little girl would get up and run away. Tinsley needed to know that she was still breathing. Wildly, caught in a manic pull, Tinsley crossed the room and grabbed Ariella's face with her hands, pushing her rosy cheeks together forcibly. “You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?”

Ariella nodded slowly, her face twisting away from her mother's violent touch. Tears were stinging the corners of her eyes until they began to roll down her flushed cheeks. Tinsley watched her quietly, and Ariella almost forgot that her mother was standing there, hovering and watching. Ariella choked on wet sobs, moaning into her knees. Like lightning, Tinsley whipped her hand back and slapped the side of Ariella's skull; the ringing in Ariella's ears was screaming. “What do I always tell you, Ariella? What do I always tell you?”

Ariella gulped. “If I have t-to … cry …”

“Go outside,” finished Tinsley. She looked down on the ground. Her lips trembled, nose scrunching away from the stench. A body lay eerily still, his skin like paper. Beneath him, blood was trickling from his open mouth – a thin stream, like a snake's body, fell down the side of his face. He was staining the hardwood with the last of his life.

Tinsley looked down, and she smiled. Her face was still young; her twenties were forgiving to her. Ariella was no older than six, but she shuddered just the same. “No one touches my daughter except me,” she hissed, watching the pale white of the man's skin turn an electric blue. “No one... owns her... except me.”

She kicked his jaw with the tips of her boots and laughed. Tinsley Carmichael had never actually killed someone – she wasn't sure she could do it, you know, after reading all of those books. All of those times she sliced people open and watched their blood trickle out, or all the times she snickered in the faces of her peers... it was all practice, wasn't it? With a swipe of her wand, the blood vanished, leaving only a body, cold as ice. She sighed heavily.

“Better call Precious,” she muttered, and Ariella wiped her face free from tears. “No one will ever hurt you, Ariella. Not while I'm alive. You need me, Ariella. You need me.”


Ariella sobbed again, her body shaking until she found the will to tear away from the comfort of her sister. She wiped her face with her hands. “I-It's fine. It's just... you forget, you know? You forget that those criminals, the people making the headlines... they're people too. They were someone before this. Precious was... someone before this. Vera was someone.” Ariella shook her head disbelievingly, looking around the room, which had emptied.

“Let's go get dinner. Tea. Something. Anything,” said Ariella helplessly, reaching for her sister's hand. “I'm so glad I have you, Grim Reaper.”

That dark humor was the only thing that could bring Ariella any peace. She reached for her sister and, together, they left the Quidditch Pitch.
Lay down your head, close your eyes
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Trailers
Family
Poetry
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Scott Weasley
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“Can we?” Scott asked his aunt as he stepped towards the door. His eyes fluttered from his aunt to the door, then to Rhys and finally to Morgan who was still clinging to her father. Someone had died, something had happened during the crazy announcement and somehow there had been a death amongst the chaos. It was a surprise that it hadn’t been announced already, although he supposed the ministry knew better than that. They knew what they were doing, and keeping a death under wraps was probably the best idea. Scott turned his head away from the others; he wondered how Professor Gray knew about it. It didn’t seem real; it never did when there was an announcement like that. He could remember in Hogwarts when they announced a death of a student during his second year, Scott had no idea how he was meant to react. So he clung onto the fear in his skull and watched those around him, hoping none of them would be next to go. That is what he did now as his eyes scanned the room.

Scott clenched his jaw and walked towards the door; he grabbed the handle and yanked it open. Outside of their booth everything had calmed down, a few ministry men and women were checking the booths. Scott turned back to look at Jessica who nodded.

“We can.” Jessica looked between Emma and Dave in confusion before shrugging. She needed to get back to her tent to make sure that Amelia and George were both okay. Jessica walked to the door and opened it up holding it for Scott.

“Rhys, you can come to my tent.” Scott called out to his friend as he and his aunt left the box, not wanting him to be alone after this sort of news.

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Scott Weasley
.Son of Bill Weasley
..Gryffindor Keeper
...Fifth Weasley Grandchild
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i'm the narrator, and this is just the prologue
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Dave McKelvey
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No wave will shatter these scales.

Dave froze completely solid when Emma entered the box with a look on her face with which he was very familiar. It was the same look the woman had worn on many occasions prior, and it generally didn't bode well, but in this case, Dave had a suspicious feeling about what was going through the woman's head. The Quidditch World Cup was an event that triggered certain memories in the minds of those who had survived the Elementium War, as some would have said that the 134th Quidditch World Cup was the turning point in Azariah Amaranth's campaign against the wizarding world. The night of that calamity had changed the fate of the elementium and the wizarding world as a whole forever.

And now, someone had died. Already, the events of that year seemed to be repeating themselves. Dave looked to Emma with a stone face.

"Who?"

"Why?"

"How"?


All of these questions sat on the tip of Dave's tongue, but none of them were enunciated. Instead, Dave turned to his son, Cosette, and the rest of the box. There would be plenty of opportunity to discuss what had gone on, but in the meantime, the announcements to clear the stadium signaled that it was time the box be evacuated.

Dave frowned slightly when Jessica appeared, clearly unaware of what was going on, but he couldn't blame the woman for her easygoing demeanor after England had won. Even if she didn't know what happened, Dave knew better than to bring it up to her now with all of the kids around; Poppy's outburst had been blatant enough.

"Do you want to come back to our tent?" Dave asked as he turned back to Emma. It was going to be a long night indeed, and Dave wanted to know what happened.
Dave McKelvey - Dave McKelvey Jr. - Charlotte McKelvey - Morgan McKelvey
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Dolores Draper
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FIRE PURE RISE

In a time of loss and grievance, Dolores realized how much she valued her brother, her twin, her male counterpart. They were born together, one cell split into two, and though they lived separated childhoods, their lives merged like two paths meeting in one. Alexander had Sasha, Arabella would have Warren, Valerya with Stannis and Serena, but Theodore had lost his. Forever. And forever was a frightening finality.

She pulled away from Dean, her eyelashes matted with tears and mascara, her beautiful, doe face glistening with tears. People were quick to leave the chaos behind and hunger for more. ”We have to go with them,” she said to Dean, tugging at his sleeve. ”We have to go see… Vera.” The thought of seeing Vera’s corpse, frozen in time forever, unleashed a series of uneasy chills down Dolly’s spine. She did not want to, but she would have to force herself. Vera was blood, and blood was forever.

Dean exhaled loudly and took one final look at the empty box. It was only an hour ago that it was packed to full capacity by people, sipping wine and cheering for their respective team. Now, Dean only saw overturned chairs, spilled champagne and party decorations hanging from the walls. Life could change on a time. ”Truth is,” Dean muttered to himself, shaking his head, ”the game was rigged from the start.” Quietly, Dean adjusted his jacket and turned to Bradley. ”Will you take us to the Lestrange Castle?”
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"Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. Lola in slacks, Dolly at
school. Dolores on the dotted line. But always
Lolita."

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Bradley Bhodhsa
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I am Tyler "TJ" Jekyll

Bradley watched as his family disappeared in front of him. Whispers could be heard around the room before they left; Bradley assumed it would be because they wanted to get back to their castle. This was a time where the family had to come together. It was a death which would shake the family more than Bradley could imagine, if it were an elder it wouldn’t be as shocking. But it was a girl, not even out of school yet. Her life stolen away.

It was tragic, it made him think of the stories he was told by the family. When he had joined Hogwarts he was too young to actually comprehend the war and what had happened with it, it was sad to see that his nieces and nephews had to deal with unexpected deaths of their own peers and relatives. He looked to Dolly and nodded, they needed to go with the rest of their family.

Bradley turned to look at Dean, he nodded. “Of course.” Bradley placed his hands on their shoulders and gripped them tightly, with that he apperated all three of them out of the stadium.
faciem mutate[
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Emma Gray
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I SEE A BAD MOON RISING

Maybe they were desensitized to it. Their generation grew up smelling death like a perfume. You smelled it in the grocery store, where the aisles stretched for miles bathed in antiseptic white. You saw it at your feet, the way light could leave a person's eyes, only a shell remaining. Emma stared down at her hands, which were trembling under the weight that they carried. She saw it -- no, she felt it, as if her body had distinctly memorized the way it felt to scream from your soul. Her skin remembered the way it felt to be touched by darkness, an insidious, coaxing feeling of dread slithering up her arms and veins. She exhaled raggedly, trying to steady the panic that rose up in her throat. It was not for herself (that pain she could carry) but for Carmen. For Poppy. Emma could feel the weight of their pained stares, wondering if their mother was okay, especially after the death of their father, her husband, their protector...

Numb. Somewhere beyond the walls of this VIP box, a family was reaching for their tattered remains, one less among them. Elsewhere, crowds were cheering ruthlessly, their face paint cracking around their widened smiles. They were just clown grins, twisted and dark, and Emma wiped her palms against her pants. She stood, forcing an effortless smile, but her face was painfully pale. Almost apologetically, Emma directed her gaze towards Jessica. "I just..." What? Don't feel well?

Was everyone else perfectly fine? Why was Emma the only one who still woke up in the middle of the night, gasping and clutching her pillow for comfort, the silhouette of Hellius Surla's face permanently soaked into her mind? Why was everyone else moving on, living their convinient lives while she was shocked and stunned, nothing but a woman forever trapped in the past?

Maybe they were used to the screams, like the sounds of animals just before their death. Maybe they were used to the chaos. Maybe they were used to the constant foggy buzzing it created in Emma's brain, constantly spinning like a carousel. Maybe they moved on, untouched by the constant sensations of their bodies relieving trauma, night after night, until they forgot how to just touch, not hit.

Emma could only nod. She turned to her daughters, two wheat-haired girls built in her image; she smiled again. "Alright, girls. Please watch out for each other and go back to our tent. Aunt Titine will be there with supper."

Carmen knew something was off in her mother's voice; it was forced. "No problem, Mom. Can I stop by after?" Carmen glanced between Dave Sr. and his family.

For a moment, Emma wanted to scream no -- she wanted to protect her child from the truth, a painful burden for anyone who chose to withstand it. Emma exhaled slowly, thinking. She trusted Dave enough. Maybe everything would turn out alright, but probably not. Why would they?

"That's up to you," said Emma finally. She sighed, glancing towards the exit. "Let's go. I can't stand the sight of this anymore."

Silently -- except for Poppy's excited chirping and chattering -- the rest of the group finally left.
Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More
And I'm
not
forgiving

I'm such
a fool to
pay this
price

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Former Deputy Head | Mother | #firstgen
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