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Slytherin: 0 |
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Date: March, Year 2036 (7th Year)
Forecast: Cool with periodic rain Moon: Third Quarter |
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It is now: Time to Grow Up |
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Current Event: ??? |
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In the News: Schools destroyed in the Sisterhood attacks are beginning reparations.
Two Years Later: Brief Summary and What to Expect After the Time Skip Common Knowledge, Recent History, and Rumours Thread |
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Next day: ???
Last Time: End of Term Feast |
| Welcome to Hogwarts Reborn, the second generation of Hogwarts Interactive Role Play! We hope you enjoy your visit. First things first. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of the page and visit our CBox to say hello! You will find that there are almost always people active, and we're a pretty friendly bunch. We do hope you'll stay. If you are having issues seeing the CBox, please see this thread (click me!). If this is your first visit, please head straight to the Joining HIRP Checklist (click me!) for more information on how to register and sign up for the role play. When you're ready, feel free to register an account, and remember to use your prospective character name when doing so. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| America vs England; Year 4 - Summer - WC Day 2/First Round | |||
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| Topic Started: Dec 3 2014, 01:47:36 PM (3,344 Views) | |||
| Vivi Dolohov | Dec 16 2014, 12:28:16 AM Post #101 | ||
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Empress
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Vivi was on the verge of ripping her perfect blonde curls from her skull. Searching for one person in the crowd of a thousand was a task that proved to be impossible. She roughly shoved passed bodies, agitation written across her Russian features. Couldn’t she just summon the girl with an accio charm? Vivi began to give up hope the further she pushed through the crowds. Vera was probably guzzling vodka in a suite with Constance Sinclair and laughing over slicing the necks of the quidditch players. ”T-There it is! The snitch! It’s up in the air again!” Donatella cried. Vivi stopped and turned her head to peer over the aisle of seats. At the end of the row, a rather burly individual emerged from the crowd, his wand in his hands and a red scarf tied around his face. Vivi’s veins suddenly began to course with ice cold fear. She turned to the right. Another boy waited for her, his eyelashes tickling the edge of the bandanna. Cursing, Vivi turned and pushed her way between the bodies in an effort to lose their tail. |
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| Booker DeWitt | Dec 16 2014, 02:11:54 PM Post #102 | ||
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THE FALSE PROPHET
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The Don sat comfortably in his throne forged from leather before the floor-to-ceiling window, a front row seat to the live action he had bought his way into. Booker bobbed his foot idly up and down, exhaling cigar smoke from his nostrils as the men around him were careful to speak softly in fear of disturbing Booker’s train of thoughts. Booker sat proudly at the top of the world and still, he wanted more. ”Run it like a business. Convince everyone that they need a piece of the share,” said Booker, rubbing the golden band on his finger. He tilted his head and blinked. ”What have you got? A bunch of eager schmucks eager to give you their money. It’s easy,” Booker’s laugh was cold, the laugh of a man who knew he had dipped into the pockets of the innocent. He laid his arm to rest against the arm of the chair and counted. ”And… Here. We. Go!” ”The snitch! The snitch! It’s back in the arena - the crowd is going absolutely wild! I cannot believe my eyes - Grimes and Wilson are racing towards the snitch!” Vanessa Grimes and Violet Wilson - the seekers for America and England respectively - were nothing but flashes of color as they rocketed toward their finish line. ”Pete Walker has hit the bludger and its speeding toward Ralph Cooper -- oh Merlin, it’s GOING TO HIT HIM!” Daniel Turner inserted himself between Cooper and the bludger and struck it out of alignment. ”Turner makes an admirable save.” |
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| Precious Lestrange | Dec 16 2014, 02:39:00 PM Post #103 | ||
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UNDESIRABLE NO. 1
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A cold hand on the shoulder brought Precious’s attention to Annik Dolohov. Her lips twisted into a pout, upset with her mother for interrupting her intricate train of thought. She arched an eyebrow. ”Yes, Annik?” Orion said coyly, taking full pleasure in addressing the Matriarch by her name rather than ‘mother’. It was an interesting dynamic to view Annik as an equal under the thin veil of protection. ”My dear child,” Annik mustered her best concerned tone. She propped a hand on her motherly hip, crimson lips pressed tightly. She glanced around skeptically at lingering bodies who cheered and toasted their wine to the game. Annik moved closer to her daughter, a feeling of desperation gripping her throat. The worry made her wrinkles deepen into crevices on her porcelain face. She looked like a mother. ”It’s been brought to my attention that Vera Wickham is missing. I think you owe it to her to be concerned.” Annik’s words rang through Precious’s mind, an echo of a warning that she had breathed into Orion Black’s ear two years ago. A storm is coming. Precious did not appear to be immediately shaken. She studied the faces of the people around her, fake kings and queens who gambled their money away as they guzzled wine that costed more than their jewelry. Vera Wickham was not among them, as she should be. Fear began to weave its way intricately up her spine in a slow, chilling creep. ”Has something been done?” ”I’ve borrowed the aurors Booker has on his payroll. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Orion laughed softly. ”I’m sure she’s out with friends, Annik. I’m keen to believe one of your sisters is with her right now.” America scored again while the snitch danced across the sky. America: 50 England: 60 |
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| Kenna Holly | Dec 16 2014, 02:51:02 PM Post #104 | ||
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Firebird
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Like an eagle, Kenna watched and waited. She was sitting cross-legged on an empty seat in the empty spectators box, watching the other members of the Vox attempt to break the charms. She wore the crimson bandana over her face as she waited. Anxious, she quietly fidgeted with her fingers. What if something goes wrong...? She had faith in her leader of course, but danger was no friend to Kenna. Especially when it threatened to hurt her sister. She had left the young girl with some friends up in their seats, and told her to stay safe and return to the tent if she had to. As bad as she felt about leaving her sister alone, she trusted the girl could defend herself. Even if she did have to resort to muggle means. Boredom threatened to watch over her as she waited. She could hear the cries of the crowds blocked from view by curtains. But that didn't mater. All that mattered was staying focused. |
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| John Baxter | Dec 16 2014, 03:01:05 PM Post #105 | ||
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Seventh Year
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John Baxter was not a revolutionary. All through his life, Bax had only advocated for one person: himself. Yeah, he'd die for his three friends, but that was because they were a part of his identity. Without Anne, Peter, and Madison, Bax would still be lonely fat kid. With them, the four of them were a team. The ran around righting wrongs, defending kids who couldn't defend themselves from the assholes, and Bax got to channel all his latent aggression into something positive. But he was no revolutionary. Truthfully, Bax was a coward who hid behind his size. Would he really die for his friends? He'd sacrificed Ioanna MacGowan to the darkness in order to save his friends during the first night of the horrors that had infested Hogwarts. As punishment, he'd been made to believe his friends had been killed. Why had he not offered up his own life? And why was he here, now: Standing with the Vox, wearing a red scarf around his plump face; ready to die for a cause? Baxter ran that question through his head again and again as he waited, standing behind Ane, who was also there. Ane was dressed in scarlet, brown eyes peering dangerously through the red scarf she'd wrapped around her head like those face coverings the middle easterners wore. Bax was amazed at how her thin, but solid form remained in one position for so long, without moving. She was short, waif-like fortress of bulletproof determination. She was really the one who believed in what they were about to do here. Bax pulled the scarf down away from his mouth. He was going to try one more time to get her to relent. "There's still time to change your mind, Anne," said Bax, "I don't think Peter would want you to do this." Ane didn't look back to speak. Her voice was as soft and quiet as it often was, yet Bax knew it was not but the velvet glove over the iron fist. "Peter's not here," she said. Bax understood what she meant by that. That Peter was not here was precisely the problem. "We don't even know what that's about," said Bax. "I do," Anne replied, emphatically. Baxter understood that, too. He couldn't argue. Peter had unceremoniously, and through owl post no less, told Anne that the two of them were through and that he was no longer going to be spending time around her, Bax, or Madison. They'd had plans to come to the World Cup together, but only Bax and Anne had come. Anne suspected, and perhaps she was right, that Peter's pureblood-minded family had put their foot down about him dating a muggleborn and spending his time undermining the pureblood hierarchy among the student body. Anne also assumed that his parents were keeping him under some kind of house arrest. It all seemed pretty likely, Bax would give her that. What wasn't likely, though, was that any of what they were doing here was going to make a difference to Peter's situation. Perhaps Bax was really just concerned for himself, but he really, really wanted Anne to change her mind so that they could both leave. Who knows how the Ministry would react once they showed themselves? The Ministry was mad these days - not with power, but with lack of it. Their various departments ran around helter-skelter, doing what they liked without much oversight. At least, that's how it seemed to Bax. What they were dealing with was chaos, Bax supposed, not order. Bax didn't know if Daisy Fitzroy really had the answers, but he didn't want to be part of creating more chaos. Anne had sought Fitzroy out after receiving Peter's owl, and that's how they wound up here, ready to throw themselves into the howling wind, red scarves whipping about, adding their voices to the already thunderous roar of the crowd. Bax felt like that was all they were going to do: Add to the bullshit. The only thing he could think to do was make sure Anne made it out of the ensuing shitstorm. Bax didn't press the issue any further with her. He knew his perspective on things was not wanted at this time. So Bax stood with the Vox, joining the sea of red - not because he believed in Daisy Fitzroy, but because he believed in his friend. Edited by John Baxter, Dec 16 2014, 03:09:49 PM.
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| Donatella Vercetti | Dec 16 2014, 04:04:46 PM Post #106 | ||
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The Countess
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”The snitch! It’s bouncing off her fingertips! Grimes is so close she can taste it! Just a few inches more and the game will belong to America!” ”The keepers! Andrew Grant is bouncing back quaffles like a solid wall! Things are so tense, Donna, I can’t keep seated! So many things are happening - OHH! Ethel Turner smacks the bludger so hard that she’s broken her bat in half!” ”VIOLET WILSON AND VANESSA GRIMES ARE NECK AND NECK IN THE RACE FOR THE SNITCH!” ”U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!” ”GRIMES HAS BUMPED WILSON WITH HER SHOULDER, I REPEAT, GRIMES HAS BUMPED WILSON!” ”Owen Thompson fires for the goal post - but OH! He missed! Frank Jennings now has the quaffle and is speeding to the posts!” Eddie’s voice was breathless over the chants of the crowd. ”Jennings aims for the goal, but Andrew Grant is a predator waiting for its prey! Jennings shoots - HE MISSES!” ”Wait a minute! WAIT A MINUTE! WILSON HAS THE SNITCH! WILSON HAS THE SNITCH! I REPEAT, ENGLAND HAS WON THE GAAAME! WILSON HAS THE SNITCH!” Donatella’s announcements were drowned out as the stadium erupted in a frenzied chaos. Cannons fired, punches were thrown, and flags flew proudly as Violet Wilson flew into view, her hand clamped over the beady ball of gold. The scoreboard rang like a bell as it ticked through the tiers and projected the final score. The match was over! |
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| Booker DeWitt | Dec 16 2014, 04:06:18 PM Post #107 | ||
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THE FALSE PROPHET
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The DeWitt suite erupted in cheers and whoops and hollers as England triumphed over the great country of the west. Handshakes were exchanged, thank yous and pats on the shoulder for reaffirmation were thrown about. Booker remained stoic, his lips curled as he nodded slowly. Of course, of course. He shook hands and accepted congratulatory salutes. You’re welcome. He thought each time he gripped a sweaty palm. Sprinkles of confetti rained upon the crowd. Push came to shove, and spectators began to grow restless in their enemies’ presence. Booker looked up through the window, his breath caught in his throat as he realized something was not going to plan. |
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| Daisy Fitzroy | Dec 16 2014, 04:09:13 PM Post #108 | ||
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BREAKER OF CHAINS
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Static rippled through the air, waves of fuzzy miscommunications as the banners failed to deliver vital information to its spectators, just like the banners in the Triwizard Tournament. Confusion and panic set in: The spectators began to grow restless. Was the Sisterhood attacking? The mere thought of it forced bystanders to gather their belongings and scurry down the concrete steps of the stadium. There was too much at risk to remain set in stone. Static. “......There’s already a fight……” Garbled static. The players on the field landed on the ground, their moment of triumph briefly forgotten as they turned their starry eyes upwards. “Join…..It’s us against them. Our lives matter. We matter!” The voice was penetrating, determined, the ghost of Primrose, Karissa, Regulus, Shoshanna echoing through her words. The voice of the people. Donatella Vercetti and Eddie Carrow remained helpless as they attempted to regain control of their microphones. The stadium began to grow into a united silence as the scene continued to unfold, a startling contrast from the cries of adoration just moments before. Patiently, wizards and witches watched, terror screaming in their muscles to flee, but curiosity binding them in a standstill. The smell of gunpowder permeated the air, a hybrid mix of hysteria and lingering panic. Tensions rolled in like a thick cloud of fog. Suddenly, Daisy Fitzroy’s face flickered across the banners, a tragic surprise in a moment of celebratory victory. Precious Lestrange stifled a gasp. She continued to watch, face pulled into a disgusted frown. What was a more perfect time for a revelation than now? The world was watching. Daisy had to act smartly and quickly. She stared into the faces of thousands of spectators, breathing deep, ragged breaths. She had one chance, one defining moment to prove her strength. ”I stand before you today as a martyr. A --” The banners fuzzed in and out of static again and Daisy’s words faded into oblivion. ”A fight that started years ago and goes as deep as blood ties. A lotta bad blood here, and all I done was stand helpless as we were slaughtered freely. No more.” Static. Confusion blanketed over the stands. Finally, Daisy’s hardened face appeared again, a wild passion of fury in her dark eyes. The quality of the image faltered between static and mediocre feedback; she pressed her lids shut, her brilliant mind willing her to force the words she had rehearsed out of her mouth. Behind her, several anonymous faces watched, their identities protected by the red bandannas. Daisy’s eyes snapped open, and the world saw the face of martyrdom. ”You see, the --” Static. ”Nothing but weeds. Cut ‘em down and they just grow back.” She leaned forward, her eyes like marbles of black onyx, hatred and wrath pooling behind her irises. Precious Lestrange was not in Fitzroy’s line of direct sight, but she felt Fitzroy’s glare like the cold embrace of the grave. And then Precious Lestrange realized what Daisy Fitzroy meant to do. It had hit her like a train, her insides solidifying into lead, fear sealing her veins into ice. The disguise of Orion Lestrange melted away in a quick shift of the wind. Precious threw herself against the glass pane. ”If you want to get rid of them --” ”NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” ”-- you gotta pull from the root.” The screens faded, along with the panic. Daisy’s warning to the world was delivered. She left the crowd standing idly, scratching their heads as they absorbed the message with a bout of skepticism. Let them think what they would, how they decided to interpret it was up to them. The only thing that mattered was that Precious Lestrange had witnessed Daisy’s final words to mark the finale. |
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THEY USED TO SHOUT MY NAME, NOW THEY WHISPER IT ![]() HERE'S THE THING ABOUT EQUALITY: EVERYONE IS EQUAL WHEN THEY ARE DEAD | |||
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| Vera Wickham | Dec 16 2014, 04:12:31 PM Post #109 | ||
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Not in birth, not in growth, retribution, or wrath. Vera did not feel fear. She kept her face solid, the jinx binding her wrists pulling tighter each time she fidgeted uncomfortably. Now the butcher had come to slay the swine, this time the roles reversed. Death waited, but Vera kept herself calm with the clench of her porcelain jaw. Her eyes burned holes of hatred into Daisy’s head. An opaque silence followed. Daisy lowered herself in front of Vera, threateningly close that Vera could bump her forehead into Daisy’s nose and break, sparing just enough time to stagger to her feet and run. ”You’re weak,” Vera spat maliciously, observing her executioner with cold, calculated eyes. ”Your group is trying to convince you to not go through with this. That’s how you know you’re not a great leader. You’re nothing but a cantankerous mudblood who’s trying to force herself into a world where mudbloods are nothing but dogs. You can’t win, Daisy. You can’t. Everyone will come after you. Teddy will beat you until you’re pleading for death. Precious will make sure to keep you alive and slice you open like the swine you are.” Daisy hung her head as Vera’s final words went in one ear and out the other. It was at that moment that Vera realized her words were useless. There was nothing she could do to delay her execution. Daisy had her decision set in stone, and now that she finally had the chance, she was not going to relinquish her power. But Vera was determined to not plead. There was no reasoning with a coward. She turned her head up and pointed to the ‘m’ engraved in her cheek. ”The ‘m’ on my face? Precious marked me for life. I can’t rid myself of this. Ever. And you know when she did this to me? Just a few minutes after murdering my father and brother in cold blood. Right in front of my eyes. She took my mother and sister, and I ain’t never seen them since then.” A vile smirk curled on Vera’s crimson lips. Her entire life’s purpose was to be an extension of Precious Lestrange, a duplicate of the storm of chaos that Precious left in her path. Vera had been great. ”Your mother, Anastasia, she brings me my meals. She washes my linens. She paints my nails, she feeds my dragons. And when she gets mouthy, I curse her. Right now, she’s limping, because I’ve hurt her leg. She walks with a cane.” Vera saw Daisy’s eyes flicker with dangerous scorn. ”And your sister? We keep her in the dungeon with all the other rats in the castle.” Vera fell silent as her last few minutes in the world rolled into play. When she realized Daisy was not bluffing, she spat with the most vile and vicious fury she could muster: ”Fuck you and your mudblood dogs.” Daisy rose her wand and aimed. |
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| Daisy Fitzroy | Dec 16 2014, 04:19:30 PM Post #110 | ||
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BREAKER OF CHAINS
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On cue, the members of the Vox Populi that had hidden themselves in the crowd began to whoop, cheer and holler, as the blood of evil was spilled. They began to run through the aisles, red flags at their fingertips as they refused to be silent in the eyes of the watchers. A few members climbed up columns, a revolution on their lips as they cried: “VOX! VOX! VOX! VOX!” Long live Daisy Fitzroy. |
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THEY USED TO SHOUT MY NAME, NOW THEY WHISPER IT ![]() HERE'S THE THING ABOUT EQUALITY: EVERYONE IS EQUAL WHEN THEY ARE DEAD | |||
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| Kenna Holly | Dec 16 2014, 04:32:34 PM Post #111 | ||
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Firebird
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Silent, Kenna watched as the life left the Wickham girl. Words played across Kenna's mind, telling her that it was for the good of others. They were doing this to help the world. The evil can only win if the good do nothing about it. Looking ahead at the scene, the Ravenclaw watched, remaining indifferent. I am doing this for joy. Death happened every day, so why should Kenna be afraid now. Especially when she was safe, she was standing there watching as her leader paved a better path for the future.
Edited by Kenna Holly, Dec 16 2014, 04:38:44 PM.
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| Justin Carmichael | Dec 16 2014, 04:58:54 PM Post #112 | ||
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This right here is the land of opportunity. This is America. This is my home! The show goes on!
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The protections around the VIP Box were immaculate; there was precious cargo in there, after all. No Auror standing outside knew exactly what was happening, but the palpable feeling of impending horror was strong. Justin could sense it weighing on his chest as he sauntered in, but not before his wand had been roughly examined and his identification scrutinized. Surely his surname helped in the manner. When he entered, Justin was not prepared for what he saw. Straight ahead, her palms pressed against the glass, was a girl he only remembered from summer visits. Tinsley and Precious were daringly competitive, but always managed to find themselves tangled together on the couch during their fourteen-year-old sleepovers; Justin had walked past, wondering how two downright unbearable girls could look so innocent sleeping. The Precious that knew then was not the woman whose scream was locked in her throat now. Justin trembled where he stood, unsure of what to say or do. He only leaned back, watching and waiting for the right moment; a lump settled in his throat like cancer. |
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| Amelia Weasley | Dec 16 2014, 04:59:00 PM Post #113 | ||
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dead girl walking
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Amelia wanted to scream, England had done it! They had fucking won the match and she was ecstatic! She was happy for her mother but more excited that she would get to watch the team play again, and maybe even again after that! Amelia screamed and cheered and punched her fist into the air. But then a weird voice came through the speakers, it sounded familiar but Amelia was angrier about this stupid prank thing ruining England’s victory. It was an accent which certainly wasn’t British, Amelia scoffed loudly. Of course they would want to go and bloody ruin her team’s moment. And then there was her face. Daisy, that girl from her house who was always a bit unusual, someone who she had once agreed to align with. Now… not so much. “Can you believe this?” Amelia muttered to herself, too wrapped up in the fact England’s victory was being taken away from them to actually listen to the words. Except a few choice sayings, such as Daisy claiming herself to be a martyr or how she was going on about weeds and pulling them from the root. “Well, that was a fucking downer.” Amelia loudly said as she looked around the booth, the announcement had ended and that was that. Amelia didn’t care; she just wanted to celebrate with her team. “I need to find mom, or dad! Wait shit I need to go back to the tent and get some stuff for the team to sign…” Hey, she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to make a quid or two. “I need to get down to the team.” Jessica suddenly announced out of nowhere, Amelia turned to see her mother had now joined them. Had she apperated here? “You go with Percy to the tent, okay? Stay close to him.” Amelia went to object but Jessica scowled, she finally nodded. Amelia turned to the others. “I’ll find you guys later yeah?” And with that, Amelia darted from the box to find Percy. |
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Electricity Elementium![]() you don't own me, don't try to change me in anyway | |||
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| Precious Lestrange | Dec 16 2014, 05:14:05 PM Post #114 | ||
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UNDESIRABLE NO. 1
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Crack. Crack. Crack. One by one, associates began to flee from the DeWitt Suite in fear of being seen with Precious Lestrange. Everyone that had sworn allegiance to her had suddenly changed their minds in the interest of their own protection. Precious Lestrange was on her knees, mouth agape as her furious cries of anguish poured from her mouth. Her throat constricted, veins in her temples raising underneath the skin as her blood rushed to her head. Her world was spinning, but she was screaming and screaming and she could not distinguish from the blur of faces in the room. She beat her fists onto the floor, a war cry of a desperate mother who had lost her child. When a parent dies, a child feels his own mortality, but when a child dies, it's immortality that a parent loses. ”VERAAAAAA!” Precious roared, tears of sorrow slipping down her cheeks. Her face became a horrid mess of tears and snot, agony ripping through her chest like a ragged butcher knife. Annik bled tears of suffering. Jax, too stunned to move, stared breathless at the flickering banner screens. And Theodore remained stoic with a vein in his temple threatening to burst. Precious pushed herself to her feet, her heart like an anchor as she dragged herself forward. Her words were choked back by sobs. She could not breathe, grief weighing on her like an enormous thumb pressed upon her chest, upon her womb where she had held Vera Svetlana and birthed her beautiful soul into this wretched world. ”WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” She roared in fury at Justin Carmichael. She felt a stab of nostalgia - family dinners, spying on him at sleepovers, leaving notes of secret admiration under his pillow. It did not matter when her core was bleeding from an unprecedented wound. She clamped Justin's collar with bleeding, trembling hands. ”MY - my - MY DAUGHTER! Find me Daisy Fitzroy and BRING ME HER HEAD!” |
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| Dolores Draper | Dec 16 2014, 05:27:06 PM Post #115 | ||
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FIRE ☾ PURE ☾ RISE
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At the time of a Magna’s death, the other in their coven should feel a variety of symptoms, ranging from gastrological distress to vivid flashbacks, often associated with trauma. Death does not occur singularly; it is a phenomena experienced by all, as they are connected intimately and irrevocably. Dolores stopped cold in her path as a sudden pang of anxiety speared through her chest. She glanced around, brimming with the suspicion that someone had jinxed her. Head spinning, her palm flew to her heart, every intake of breath growing shorter and shorter as she struggled to focus her thoughts. Dolly stumbled to her knees, and for a few seconds she believed she had been on the receiving end of an Unforgivable Curse. ”Hey miss, you alright?” Said a spectator, painted from head-to-toe in American colors. ”Uhf… Fine.” She struggled, clamping her hand into a fist over her shirt. What’s happening? What’s happening? What’s happening? Her mind clouded with panic, a thick cloud of smoke that she could not breathe freely in. Dolly’s heartbeat rang in her ears, the sting of tears flooding her eyes as sorrow flooded her senses. ”V-Vera,” she choked out, her eyelashes matted together in clumps of mascara and tears. |
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| Quinn Paterson | Dec 16 2014, 05:47:14 PM Post #116 | ||
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i've become so tired, so much more aware
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England had won the match, but that was not what was on Quinn’s mind as an all too familiar voice echoed through the stadium. Quinn didn’t believe it at first, almost as though she didn’t want to believe it. But then, when Daisy’s face burst onto the banners Quinn covered her mouth. What was happening? It was an obvious intrusion of the speakers and network within the stadium, something which they were all being forced to listen to. Something which Quinn didn’t completely understand, was this the sort of thing she fought for in the corridors of Hogwarts? How would she ever return now? Quinn felt her heart sink, her stomach churned as she stood frozen to the spot. A lot of bad blood was here, as Daisy spoke this line Quinn remembered Ezra Nott. That boy was bad blood, and she couldn’t forget that. Quinn let her hand drop from her mouth; she wondered what Daisy was speaking about and hoped that she wasn’t one of the helpless she was speaking about. Weeds needed to be pulled, they needed to be gotten rid of. But who were the weeds? Her eyes darted to the special box where the pureblood families sat; she had seen Ezra head up there. There seemed to be something happening in there now, Quinn turned to look at the screen and it was all gone. Her body froze in the moment; Quinn kept her eyes up at the screen for a few more sections before she turned to look at Vi. “What was that… What… She was on about the purebloods right? People like…” People like Ezra. Quinn gulped. |
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| Ioanna MacGowan | Dec 16 2014, 05:55:38 PM Post #117 | ||
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Cold
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Ioanna drifted in the unconscious domain - the high-order realm where all subconscious threads met. The epicenter of everything. All paths began, and ended, here. The structure was incomprehensible to the human mind. If anyone in the physical plane managed to make contact, they'd only experience a tiny piece, usually structured based on their own experience. Anything and everything was valid here. But Ioanna wasn't looking for everything. The tendrils of her thought spread out, looking for the cracks between this world and the last. She sensed a terrible, angry force bubbled forth from one such celestial passageway, and Ioanna knew that she would find Vera, there, where the two words met. Where the two worlds met, they met in turbulence. Ioanna couldn't tell yet if Vera was thrashing, tearing against the edges of the opening or not. She didn't know what to expect as she approached her spirit - it was fading, but not weak, not by any means. "Vera?" she called out, into the void. She had a voice. She didn't always. Perhaps Vera needed more than company. Perhaps she needed nothing at all, but Ioanna felt that even Vera Wickham shouldn't be alone when she passed on. Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 16 2014, 06:24:16 PM.
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| Vera Wickham | Dec 16 2014, 06:24:41 PM Post #118 | ||
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Do not go gentle into that good night; Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Death was but the next great adventure. The idea of Vera Wickham flickered like a fading candle, the darkness looming upon her shoulders like a permanent black night. The core of space and time expanded to allow her presence, a final glimpse of her porcelain skin, her jade eyes and careful movements. As each minute ticked on, she faded into a lighter shade of translucent, and would continue to do so until she vanished from existence forever. Nothing existed here. The silence was opaque, vast, a shattering reminder of what was to come when time diminished. Vera sat on her hip underneath a dimming spotlight, the cold flooding her palm as she held her upper body upright. Above her, the darkness began to glow with constellations, a mirror of the earth’s beautiful sky at night. Regulus began to brighten with anticipation. Vera looked up at the voice that had called. Fear coursed through her veins, an instinct that could be of no use to her any longer. She searched the black, her heart echoing the tick of a clock as she withered away. Oblivion was on the horizon. ”I just…” The words trembled off of her lips, her stomach knotting with fright. Slowly, Vera reached up and gently touched her forehead where Daisy Fitzroy’s killing curse had struck her. Tears leaked from her eyes, windows trapping her soul from escaping. Gently, she laid her hand upon her lap and hung her head. ”I just wanted to be perfect.” Vera confessed, feeling more human in death than in life. ”I wanted to please my mother. I wanted to give her everything, I was so focused on pleasing her that I did not realize the monster I would become.” Her tears dropped to the floor where they exploded into tiny shards of glittering diamonds. ”Please, I just want to go home. I am afraid of losing my family. I want to see my mother again, my brother and my father. Please, take me home.” Edited by Vera Wickham, Dec 16 2014, 06:27:50 PM.
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| LONG LIVE THE QUEEN! | |||
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| Merida Gottlieb | Dec 16 2014, 06:42:44 PM Post #119 | ||
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England won! But the festivities were cut off before they could being. Merida exchanged a glance with Antoine, and stood. There would be no time off for her this week, it seemed. Confused and upset people had started to hurry down the steps of the stadium. "What's happening?" Iso wasn't stupid, she knew something strange was going on. "Everyone's just so excited to leave and celebrate." She placed a hand briefly on Iso's shoulder, comforting. This couldn't go badly for Iso. Too much was at stake. "You should apparate back to the tent." Merida suggested to Antoine as the Vox chant began. Whoever had hijacked the screen had to be close. Underneath the commentator's box? Merida called for back-up, unsure what she was dealing with. A man chanting, rushed past in his excitement. A red scarf fluttered out behind him. Merida pushed after him, not trusting herself to cast a spell properly through the crowd. A hand aggressively spun the man - no, he was a boy - around. The wand at his throat suddenly seemed like too much. "What's going on?" No explanation was forthcoming. The chant continued, "Vox. Vox. Vox." It was quieter though. Intense, like the look in his eyes. "Tell me where your leader is." Merida felt a lot less sympathetic as the boy's spit trickled down one side of her nose. |
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Even if we can't find Heaven![]() I'll walk through Hell with you | |||
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| Daisy Fitzroy | Dec 16 2014, 06:53:46 PM Post #120 | ||
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BREAKER OF CHAINS
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Daisy stared at Vera Wickham’s lifeless body, the ghost of a scream on her lips as she whispered a prayer to herself. Immediately, she felt remorseful. Why did the blood of an innocent have to be shed? True, Vera Wickham was the furthest from holy, but the loss of life could have been prevented if people learned to play fair. Precious Lestrange had struck Daisy where it had hurt, and Daisy had allowed a considerable amount of time for the storm in her veins to brew before she retaliated. She did not aim for Lestrange’s lover, because that would have freed Precious from her Unbreakable Bond, thus making Precious’s life less complicated. She did not pull Theodore away, because he had proven to be loyal to her in the past, and though he was going to hate her with every fiber of his being now, she still saw good in him that could be exhausted. Daisy had to aim for the catalyst that had been on Precious’s team from birth: Vera Wickham, the unquestioning and ferocious lion cub. Daisy was breathless. She could not believe that she had managed to successfully use an Unforgivable Curse. She had to mean it, and staring into Vera Wickham’s soulless eyes had roused an earthquake from Daisy. She knew now that her next movements were key to her survival. She had planned for this moment months ahead. It was now or never. She turned to the rest of her Vox members: ”Your faces were protected. No one will know of your involvement here. What you choose to do next is up to you,” she began, pocketing her wand. ”What I did was cleanse a wound. Vera Wickham had murders under her belt that went unindicted because of her status. Understand that this is meant to start a backlash in the pureblood community. I urge you to go into hiding if you do not feel comfortable as the political turmoil brews,” Daisy inhaled sharply before she continued: ”Right now, our brothers and sisters are outside making our presence known while the murderers watch. You can choose to join them or flee, but I will not force you against your will.” The faces of fearful young adults stared back at her, their faces glistening with sweat as they battled their internal struggles between right and wrong. ”That painting over there holds a secret tunnel to take you into the stands. No one will notice because they’re too focused on our members rousing a revolution.” She glanced down at Vera, her face stoic. ”Good luck,” Daisy said, ”and remember who the enemy is.” |
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THEY USED TO SHOUT MY NAME, NOW THEY WHISPER IT ![]() HERE'S THE THING ABOUT EQUALITY: EVERYONE IS EQUAL WHEN THEY ARE DEAD | |||
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1:53 PM Jul 11
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HIRP now has a Common Knowledge, Recent Events, and Rumours thread, which contains all the information that your characters should know having grown up in our world. Please be sure to check it out and feel free to use the knowledge in character. If you have suggestions for minor characters who might be well known, please contact a staff member. |



















































1:53 PM Jul 11