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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 (3,343 Views) | |||
| Ioanna MacGowan | Dec 16 2014, 07:00:48 PM Post #121 | ||
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From just about the time Ioanna had first stepped off the first year boat ride to Hogwarts, she'd been the target of Vera Wickham's abuse. Of all the nasty things that others had flung at Ioanna - about her accent, her clothes, her pale skin or just the general weirdness of her aura - Vera Wickham always found a way to say them the nastiest. Ioanna hated her. But that had simply been Vera's skin. Flesh was a mask for the soul, and Vera had been stripped of hers. Ioanna pitied her, now. She really did. She pitied herself, too. The walls that separated Vera Wickham from Ioanna MacGowan seemed so tiny now, so insubstantial. It was like they'd been tricked, lied to: someone else told them how to feel, how think. They'd been diverted. Or, maybe, it was horrific chemical soup they'd all been bathed in: The very thing that whispered into their ears that this one or that one was different from them, and therefore a possible threat, was the very body to which that ear belonged. Human perception could never be wholly right because the act of being alive discolored and distorted everything. Ioanna stopped herself before she made an Aristotle's Cave reference. Most anyone reading this would have probably taken a damn Intro to Philosophy class, and nobody needed that old cliche'. Vera wanted desperately to return to her body of lies. Ioanna watched Vera's tears fall like diamonds, then disappear as the reached the edge of her fading consciousness. It wasn't fair. Daisy Fitzroy had no right, no matter what Vera or her family had done. Who was to say that Vera Wickham couldn't have changed? The ways in which the world could change - the ways in which a person could change - were infinite; and even the world's greatest seers - even Tinsley Carmicheal herself - could only glimpse but a few possible ends. Just as Ioanna could not give life to those who deserved to live, no one should be able to take life from those whom they think deserve death. "I wish I could, Vera," said Ioanna, "I really do. I'm speaking as someone you used to bully, someone you hated: I forgive you. I know what it is like to feel like you can never live up to someone. That you'll always be an inferior copy. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I hated you so much." Ioanna opened her arms. She'd just realized she had arms. She had a body, too. It was taller than her real body - as if she were older now. She was dressed similarly to how she looked during her last trip to the Higher Plane: A long black gown, black lipstick. However, there was a dangerous sharpness to her looks now, as if some manner of the way Vera Wickham ideally saw herself had fused with Ioanna's own traits. Now tapped into Vera Wickham's perception, Ioanna was the smoking hot femme fatale she'd probably never really be. She looked a little like Precious, actually. There was a kindness in her eyes, though: A solemn sort of kindness, like a warm hug. She was the comfort of the void. "You'll always be a part of your family," she said, "They are connected to you in this world, though they do not know it. In fact, some are more connected. Your sisters. I feel them. Do you? They want to say goodbye. They love you, Vera. You'll meet them again, soon. It will all pass like a quiet day dream." The other consciousness of the other Magna touched briefly with hers, whether or not they were aware, as they followed the thread that connected them with Vera. "Vera," Ioanna said, "Please come to me now. There's no pain in the void. Everything you are, have been, or would have been will be preserved, but pain will not reach you in my embrace." Ioanna had to do this, now. Souls did not simply "go on" anymore, not since Tom Riddle sealed Death up inside her. They joined with her, instead. Their memories became part of her, though she could not access them. They were stored in her subconscious, along with Death, dormant and unreachable, but preserved as one whole consciousness. Ioanna didn't know what would happen if someone refused to go now that she was permanently the vessel of death - the phylactery of all the world's souls. She didn't want to think about that. She only wanted to save Vera from such a fate. Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 16 2014, 07:25:11 PM.
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| Billie Baker | Dec 16 2014, 07:01:00 PM Post #122 | ||
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I'm Vi
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Billie was startled away from her binoculars as the end of the match was raucously announced. Daisy stole England's glory, spouting words of ominous rebellion. Billie didn't know much of what was going on, but it was clear that the revolutionary was speaking to someone in particular. Well, a group of someones. Purebloods. That seemed a bit right, somehow. Vi had always figured Daisy Fitzroy to be a little too loopy. The entire speech left a bad aftertaste. It was impossible to see anything with her binoculars in the sudden panic. Everyone had jumped out of their seats and were either apparating or fleeing. A chant had risen up. Billie dropped the binoculars in disgust, they fell heavily into her lap and nearly bounced to the floor. Vi's expression softened at Quinn's words, and Billie grinned at her friend with a reassurance that had no right to be there. "I don't know. We should go." Billie started to stand, fully intending to pull Quinn all the way back to the tents. A thought struck the young Gryffindor, however, and froze her feet in place. "My dad might show up." The grip Billie had on Quinn's arm slackened, slightly. "I need to find him." |
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| Antoine Belrose | Dec 16 2014, 07:39:33 PM Post #123 | ||
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Daisy's voice filled the stands and Antoine grew more and more angry. Daisy had some of the same ideas as Antoine, but there was a difference between the two of them. Antoine wasn't crazy. Nor did he lead others into terrible actions. Actions like ruining the world cup for a six year old. As soon as Merida dashed off Iso clung to Antoine. The older boy watched as members of the Vox terrorized the crowds. More angry than he'd been in years Antoine scooped the little girl up, thankful of Iso 's small size. In half an instant Antoine realized this wasn't safe for Merida, after all she was a pure blood. Instead of heading back to the tent he looked around for Merida. Sighing he sent his patronous to Merida. The octopus floated through the air towards his girlfriend and the kid she was with. Antoine sat Iso down on the chair. As he turned around a kid with a red bandana went and tried to step over Iso. Iso for her part had picked up on the fact that the Vox were the bad guys. With all her might she kicked her leg up and kicked the boy in the groin. Antoine took that moment and picked Iso up and apparated back to the tent. The water creature stopped in front of Merida, and offered the message. "I know who's behind this. Come back to the tent. Now." The octopus folded into itself and vanished. |
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I just wanna say, I remember conversations, before I gave up on me and if it's any consulation I remember everything And you can't take that, no you can't take that away . You were the one who saved me, and you can't take that away. | |||
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| Vera Wickham | Dec 16 2014, 08:35:08 PM Post #124 | ||
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"I really do. I'm speaking as someone you used to bully, someone you hated: I forgive you.” A piercing terror seized Vera’s faltering heart as the realization struck her: The spirit before her, an essence of death whose eyes beckoned Vera into oblivion, had embodied the form of a peer. Vera stared, too stunned to move as she became frighteningly submissive in a moment’s notice. A protest balled at the tip of her tongue, a plea for mercy. She would readily throw her dignity away and crawl hands and knees to forgiveness. ”It wasn’t my fault,” Vera would say, choking back tears. ”I was raised to believe that - this. My family held such high standards for me, I couldn’t disregard that. Didn’t you see what happened to Theodore?” But the words were lost on her lips. Instead, she remained intangible, the stars smiling upon her back as time ticked on and on. Why Ioanna MacGowan? Vera dreamed of Regulus Black meeting her at death’s horizon, his bloodied, mangled corpse frozen in time as he extended his hand. In death, they could find peace. Or Primrose Devouement, her eyes as black as the void that surrounded them, but her smile still beaming like sunshine as she promised to guide Vera onward. Or Belladonna Thornton, whose unpleasant face would soften with the glow of an angel. Time did not remain consistent. Slowly, Vera realized Ioanna MacGowan was Ariella Carmichael’s sister. Vera’s stomach retracted into itself, uncertainty tying her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Ariella… A blood sister. Magna. Vera’s chest began to ache with sorrow as she realized the legacy she was leaving in her wake. Would the sisterhood maintain its bond post-mortem? This had to be a dream. Vera was dreaming, flying through white clouds lined with silver, taking her wherever her mind could build itself to. She experienced a Chandian Effect that was startlingly realistic. Dreaming, dreaming. Soon, she would awake with the sun’s rays falling upon her face. Ioanna attempted to draw Vera forward again, but Vera felt herself grow stagnant. What about Teddy? The brother she shared a womb with, they had roamed through purgatory together before they were forced into Precious Wickham’s cold hands, Vera’s cord around his neck. As children, they were inseparable, two heads of blonde hair that could not sever the invisible rope. They grew, he made a few bad choices and Vera wanted to punish him for betraying her. She had hurt for so long, but she never believed she could bring herself to rob him of his life. Her father? The only man she would allow to treat her sternly. He had showed her the truth of the world, a bizarre reality that had frightened Vera into submission. He was understanding, cautious, and Vera knew he wanted the best for his children. She was sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Everyone else rotated through her mind like a carousel of memories. Dolores Draper, Vera’s first real sister, who had shared soda pop drinks and hair bows as if they were candy. Constance Sinclair, Vera’s godmother, a ferocious lioness that Vera had aimed to be like one day. Tinsley Carmichael, Vera’s second mother. Cordelia Yaxley… Vera’s heart began to bleed with anguish. ”I’m scared,” Vera said coldly. She did not move from her place on the ground. ”This life. Only in death do I realize how much I value life. There has to be another way.” Edited by Vera Wickham, Dec 16 2014, 08:36:28 PM.
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| Ioanna MacGowan | Dec 16 2014, 09:10:51 PM Post #125 | ||
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Ioanna shook her head. "I only see the hearts of those who have died," she said, "I am not here to pass judgment upon you. This isn't a judgment. Everyone goes to the same place, regardless of deeds. You only suffer now because you allow yourself to suffer." Ioanna didn't know how to make her let go. Precious' grasp on her seemed to extend far into the netherworld. This was not good. "It is the tragedy of life," said Ioanna, "Our eyes blind us to the true value of things. You're not alone in experiencing this. I promise, you do not need to be afraid. There is no judgment, there is no Heaven or Hell. There is only peace." Something was wrong. Ioanna could feel another presence here. A dark one. A powerful one. It caused her ethereal form to shudder - and it seemed to grow closer as Vera continued to fade away. "Vera," said Ioanna, sounding a bit desperate, "You must understand. You're leaving no matter what. There's no bringing you back, now. To rage at the dying of the light is noble, but the light is gone from your life. If you continue to struggle, you'll only leave behind scars. Those scars are left upon your loved ones. You will hurt the ones you love if you don't find peace. You must choose now, Vera." Ioanna felt something penetrate her spirit. A low rumbling from the depths surged into her. It grabbed hold of the thread of her consciousness, and it pulled hard with fury. Ioanna felt something akin to pain, though she had no body to feel it. She faltered before Vera, momentarily disoriented. Something was here, and it was desperate and angry. She was sure Vera would feel it, too. "There's no time, Vera!" Ioanna pleaded. For the first time, Ioanna feared for her own safety. She didn't know this. Something was different. Something was wrong! Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 16 2014, 09:25:13 PM.
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| Rachel Thornton | Dec 16 2014, 09:36:53 PM Post #126 | ||
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sneaky bitch
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Rachel sipped her drink as she watched the match from the window, one arm across her stomach. The game didn't really matter to her, nor to anyone else in the room. Or so she assumed. Knowing Booker, she had no doubt there was something up sleeve. Rachel had met many politicians since landing in London. She knew there was no way one, especially one like Booker, could play the part with such ease unless something behind the curtains was going according to plan. The room was full of chatter and glasses clinking. She had to admire the way everyone in the room behaved, all gears in a well-oiled machine. The more time went on, the more annoyed she became that Mr. Minister himself hadn't so much as glanced her way. She was beginning to think she would have to take someone else that night. Suddenly, loud cheering commenced, much louder than before. Along with the announcer, Rachel knew the game much be over. She clapped along with everyone else but only before the celebration was interrupted. Rachel raised an eyebrow as whoever was on screen spoke. ”If you want to get rid of them --” She finished the rest of her drink. ”-- you gotta pull from the root.” Rachel placed her drink on the nearest table, not breaking her attention away from the window. In the background, she could hear people beginning to panic and scramble away. She wasn't surprised that most had decided to run away. It was so like those in business to run at the first sign of danger or risk. That was why they could all enjoy themselves so much just moments before. In there little world, there was nothing to fear. That was until reality came crashing in. Smirking, Rachel had to admit she liked the girl's style. Her nearest neighbor did not share this opinion. "Uhh--I don't know what this is," he stammered nervously and drunkenly. "I'm not gonna stick around and find out. So much for the party." With that, he disappeared. Rachel rolled her eyes and she finally turned to face the rest of the room, hands on her hips. "Oh no, darling," she noted, "I think it's just getting started." |
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| Kenna Holly | Dec 16 2014, 09:50:52 PM Post #127 | ||
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Firebird
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Kenna could hear the riot outside, even as she focused on Daisy's words. Realising she had two choices, to run and find Joy and keep her safe, or to help her fellow Vox members, Kenna paused to think about what to do. Joy had likely headed back to the tent when the snitch had been caught, as Kenna had instructed her to do. So Kenna, praying that Joy would be safe, headed through the passageway, and underneath the stands. From there she made her way up into the crowd, chanting Vox as she did. | ||
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| Magnolia Stone | Dec 16 2014, 09:57:53 PM Post #128 | ||
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Sometimes it’s hard to see the lines you’ve drawn until you’ve crossed them
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Noa and William began to clap and cheer frantically as the game went on. Even more so when England had finally caught the snitch. Everyone around them went wild. Some had picked the rose petals from earlier and began to throw them in the air, others waved their flags ferociously. Noa wasn't sure what came over her but the energy of the game had willed her to face William pulling him in for a hug. The side of her face resting on his chest, her eyes widened the second she realized what she had done, once again caught off guard by her boldness around him. She was about to pull away when he stopped her from being completely pushed apart, his hands gently on her arms. Though the crowd around them celebrated, the silence between them was loud in its own way. He stared at her while she wished one of them would say something to break the tension. Then something finally did. It was over before Noa knew it. The celebatory atmosphere had disappeared completely. Suddenly, the people around her began to push and shove each other in a rush to get out. Someone had accidently bumped into her shoulder, breaking her and Will's contact and almost completely knocking her over. Noa managed to keep her eyes on the screen, barely recognizing the face on it. The only way she remembered was that the girl had the name of a flower, just like her. William looked around, alarmed but unafraid of the situation. Wordlessly he urged her to move along with the crowd. She did so but somewhat resisted. She looked around for any sign of the girl in red. Every few steps, Noa could have sworn she saw others with the same scarf as she. They vanished from sight before Noa could confirm. Though she felt safe, hand in hand as William led her along she couldn't also help but feel intrigued. Whoever she was, she had managed to cause an uproar, a panic among others without laying a hand on anyone. (Well as far she knew. She was sure she would hear of any injuries later.) She was impressed. Everyone would be talking about this for months. |
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| John Baxter | Dec 16 2014, 10:07:41 PM Post #129 | ||
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Seventh Year
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Baxter couldn't believe what he'd just seen: Daisy Fitzroy, Baxter's classmate, had just murdered another one of their classmates with the Killing Curse, and she did it all without flinching. It horrified him. He didn't want to be a part of this. Baxter placed a heavy hand upon Anne's shoulder as Daisy finished her speech. "Anne," he pleaded, "Let's go." Anne turned towards him. Her face was inscrutable behind the red scarf. "Yeah," she said, "Let's." Anne immediately set off towards the exit that would take her out into the stadium, where the other Vox were already demonstrating. "Anne! Wait!" Baxter followed out after her. Lights blinding him as he ran out into the field, chasing his friend. The sheer scale of the stadium seemed to press upon Baxter from all sides. It was so big, yet somehow, that kind of space was constricting. The stands full of people towered over him, the noise of their cries, and the constant changing of "Vox! Vox! Vox!" barreled down upon him like a wave, threatening to sweep him away. All he could see was bright stadium lights and the flowing scarlet red of Vox scarves and flags. "Anne!" he called out again. He'd lost her. She pressed on, fueled by confusion and anger. Baxter lost her in a sea of red. |
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| Vera Wickham | Dec 16 2014, 10:33:46 PM Post #130 | ||
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Vera’s heartbeat began to echo into the silence, pounding thuds of sound that exhibited the flush of light through Vera’s translucent skin. With panic, she realized her final seconds began to tick away, precious moments that could have been spent reflecting on her brief presence on earth. She swallowed her words, eyes swimming with sorrow as she stared at Ioanna’s open arms. She glanced over her shoulder. Her mind refused to believe the truth. ”Life can change on a dime,” Dean Draper’s words grumbled in the distance. Vera pressed her face into her hands. She would give anything to see her cousin’s face again. ”Sometimes you just have to gamble.” Vera felt her heart plunge into a depressing ache, tears falling faster now as she faded away. I’m so scared. Vera thought, pushing herself to her feet. If this is to be my redemption… Victor, I wish you years of happiness without my ghost lingering in your mind. I never stopped loving you. I still love you mother. You ask me to jump, I would say, “How high?”, and I know that I will not go easily from your thoughts. Teddy… We will always be one, two sides of the same coin. Father, please forgive me for my foolish actions, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my mother for destroying me. She is the darkness and I am the angel she destroyed. The rumbling grew louder, and Vera felt her chest begin to tear. She pushed herself forward, face glistening with crystal tears as she willed the last ounce of strength. It was closing in - the darkness - the inevitable. Her heart began to burn bright, and Ioanna saw that the light was good. With one final thrust, Vera lunged forward and fell into Ioanna’s arms. |
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| LONG LIVE THE QUEEN! | |||
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| Theodore Wickham | Dec 16 2014, 11:30:59 PM Post #131 | ||
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IMPERATOR
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The words his mother screamed seemed to bounce off of Theodore’s mind, as if mere theories of life that Theodore refused to accept. He laid a palm flat against the window, the muscles in his throat stretching passed their elasticity. Theodore clenched his jaw so hard that he was afraid his teeth was break. His heart began to race, his breath matched the pace and he began to feel weak. Vera Wickham was dead. Theodore’s vision blackened. He tumbled to the floor, knocking over a nearby chair in the process. Whatever wizards left behind witnessed Teddy fall into a state of cataclysmic shock. His eyes glazed over in fear, the breath slipping from his lips as his body failed to stabilize itself. After a few seconds, he returned from the darkness, but he only saw a blur of the ceiling chandelier hanging above him. Oliver came into his line of sight. His mouth moved - he spoke, but Theodore could not hear the words. Oliver leaned down to his friend, strands of hair falling from its gel hold as he gripped Theodore’s collar. From the corner of his eye, Jane’s head of blonde peeked, hands pressed over her mouth as she remained helplessly stagnant. Theodore coughed up blood. He opened his eyes as the ceiling of the wing passed. He was alive. He was okay. "It hurts," Teddy groaned. He gripped the edge of the bed and heeled over the edge. The unbearable pain seared through his wounded leg. "It hurts too damn much," he choked. Lucy reached forward to touch his forehead. "Don't." Theodore jerked his head away from her palm. "SAVE VERA," He screamed, thrashing against the binds. "SAVE HER FIRST." Vera danced on the line between life-and-death. |
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| Ioanna MacGowan | Dec 17 2014, 12:20:05 AM Post #132 | ||
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Ioanna had felt this before: Vera's sorrow. It was deep waters - an icy wave that Ioanna could drown in if she dwelt too long. The saddest part? Vera's suffering was not unique. She wasn't the only crying girl she'd ever held in her arms at the end. This drama was overdone. It was a cliche. Yet, in the moment, it nearly killed Ioanna with grief every time. Kind of the same as watching The Notebook for the eighth time. Ioanna wrapped her arms around Vera. She felt warm in her embrace. Dying was cold. Ioanna was Death, and was not the voiceless portent of the future depicted by Dickens. Ioanna was not a Memento Mori. Death was a guide: A warm hug at the end of a long journey (or a short and turbulent one, in Vera's case). Ioanna was a healer. She ran her long, pale hand down Vera's silky blonde hair - the final feeling of physical affection Vera would ever feel before Oblivion took her. Her light encompassed them both. Her soul flowed into Ioanna, joining the afterlife at last. Vera's suffering was over. Ioanna was left alone in the void. She could no longer feel Vera's presence. Though the world of the dead existed within Ioanna, she could not reach that place herself. She wondered: Who would be there to guide her when it was her time? Would she have to find her own way? Right now, she would have to find her own way back, that much was certain. She tried to find it, but everywhere she probed was darkness. She began to feel panicked. She couldn't find the way back! Why? She could always find the way back to her body before. Why was it different? What's going on? She realized the low rumbling in the dark had not stopped, she'd merely been distracted from it by Vera's grief: Thundering in the deep. Yes: Deep. The void suddenly had depth. What once was shapeless had become dimensional, and for the first time, Ioanna felt small within it. Infinity had shrunk into a dark world that was not at all empty. It swarmed with shadows. Ioanna heard echoes in the shadows. Those echoes were screams - of rage, of sorrow. They penetrated her very being. All of Vera's warmth had faded, and all that was left was cold. The cold, and the deep. Ioanna began to panic, her head swiveling every which way, trying to detect the source of the cries she was hearing. How could it be cold? There shouldn't be anything, not even darkness here. How could she be moving her head? She would only have a form if someone was there to perceive it. She wasn't creating this. This dark world had sprung up within the Higher Plane as if it had created itself! Unable to even think for the rising cacophony that was thundering all around her, Ioanna ran. She ran in a random direction. Her bare feet touched something like cold stone. How? What is this? What is this!? What is that sound thundering in the deep? She kept running, the screams grew louder. The screams were pain and terror and anger and hatred and regret. They cried out - and Ioanna knew they cried out for her. She could only keep running. She kept on running until her feet touched water. She stopped. Ioanna found herself standing in a pool of water up to her ankles. The pool glowed an eerie green color. The water felt like ice - burning and chilling at the same time. She felt currents running around her, coming from somewhere in the deep. Something brushed her foot, colder than even the water that surrounded it. She backed away. She tried to leave the eerie green pool, but she found that the pool was everything: It stretched out into every conceivable direction for as far as she could see. She could not escape it, no matter how far she ran. Something grabbed hold of her ankle, and the spine she didn't currently possess received a chilly shock. She looked down: It was a hand! A white, slimy, gnarled hand had reached out from the eerie glowing depths, and now had a death grip around her ankle. A death grip in a world of the dead. What did that make it? What did that make her? Try as she might, Ioanna could not free her leg from the hand's grip. No matter how much she pulled, how much she struggled, the hand's grip was absolute. More hands joined it. They rose from the depths, sending waves of unholy water rushing her in their wake. She was soaked in icy cold waters of the Lake of Hades as the hands pulled at her - at her legs, clutching her arms, ripping her dress - dragging her, down, into the deep. She screamed as they pulled her under. Never had she felt more terror! She didn't know what something could do to her in the Higher Plane - what destruction could be wrought on the purest distillation of her being. She didn't want to find out, so she continued to struggle and thrash under the cold water - but to no avail. Submerged in the waters of Hell, Ioanna saw the faces of her attackers at last: Sunken faces with wide, glowing eyes, bodies thin and skin mottled brown, yellow, and black with rot. Sorrowful faces, with baleful cries to match. These were the wraiths who cried out - cried out in the deep. These were the tortured souls who found no peace, no sleep. Ioanna knew what they wanted: They begged her to save them. These were cries for help - for mercy! They sensed that salvation was inside her, but they could not reach it. The could not reach it, so they tore at her - at her clothes and skin and hair. She was stripped and scratched and stretched and torn. She screamed! They were going to tear her apart! "I don't know how to help you!" she cried out, her words not garbled by the waters of hell, "I can't. I can't help you! Please, you have to understand!" Her words were lost on these poor unfortunate souls. Lost in the deep. It occurred to her, somehow, as she felt herself being ripped apart: This was new. This world of darkness had been recently created, filling the void left by the cradle of souls after Tom Riddle forced it into permanent co-habitation with Ioanna. Tom Riddle had changed the rules: These souls had no way of returning to the source if not by their own free will, now that the source was part of Ioanna's earthly vessel. Ioanna had promised Vera that there was no Hell. Ioanna now knew that she had just saved the girl from it. These lost souls were desperate to return to Ioanna's warm embrace, but they were unable, now, and so they were tearing her apart! "Please," she cried, "Please, don't do this. I can help you! I'll find out why this is happening, and I will save you! But you have to let me go." Her voice died in the cacophonous lament of the deep dwellers. The lost souls were too maddened by grief to understand. Or so it seemed. She felt herself stretched until at last she broke - and then, she faded: Faded from the deep. Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 17 2014, 01:59:36 PM.
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| Victor Malfoy | Dec 17 2014, 09:03:15 PM Post #133 | ||
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how many secrets can you keep?
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Victor stormed into the stadium shoving his way through the crowds of panicked people. There were people red bandanas draped over their faces to hide who they were, Victor had no idea what was going on here but he didn’t care. He needed to find her; he needed to find someone who had answers. What if this was some sick joke? It couldn’t be. A boy suddenly stood in his way, he was yelling something but all Victor could hear was static. His mind was screaming, his body was pulsating and the anger was seeping into his vision. Everything was red. But was it the anger? Victor had no idea, his eyes narrowed. “Move.” Victor spat through his teeth, but the boy would not move. It was a standoff, but Victor didn’t have time for some petty boy. Victor stormed forward; he pressed his fingers into the boys shoulder and shoved him as hard as he could to the side. Victor didn’t even look back; he just stormed on straight ahead feeling only a slight pang of relief as he let out a tiny burst of his anger. But that wasn’t enough; it would never be enough for this moment. His throat was closing up and his shoves got more and more aggressive as he pushed his way through to the VIP box. That was where his father said he would be. Victor got to the box and watched as men in suits rushed out. As though something had happened in there. His heart sunk, his body froze for a brief moment before the raw anger pummelled through his system and Victor stormed into the room and past the guards. They yelled his name, but were then stopped by a man. “Victor? What are you doing here?” His father called out, Victor glanced at him and the two froze. No words could escape his lips, Victor just stood still and it seemed like time had stopped around him. His father nodded his head once, as though he understood everything. But he didn’t know a thing, how could he know a thing? What had happened in here? So many questions spiralled through his brain and down to his hands which clenched up into fists. Victor spun back around and saw Oliver, and then he saw Theodore. Victor stormed over; he had to know what was happening. But when he took one look at Theodore’s face he knew it to be true. Vera would forever be young and beautiful. “We have to find her Ted.” Victor spat through clenched teeth, but just as he did so Theodore tumbled to the floor. Like a sack of potatos. Victor stood still, he watched his former friend before he knelt to the ground next to Theodore as Oliver gripped his collar. "Get up." Victor muttered. |
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| Scott Weasley | Dec 17 2014, 09:50:52 PM Post #134 | ||
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Scott had been stood at the top of the stands when England won the match; he had clapped his hands together and yelled out in triumph. That was, until the static kicked in and a voice took over the stadium. He could see on the screens there was a familiar face, Daisy Fitzroy from his house back at Hogwarts. They had only spoken once or twice in passing, but she was a hard face to forget. After her speech the banging started, people began to rise from around him with red bandanas. One of them even passed him one. Scott looked at the material in his hands before dropping it on the ground. He peered over the edge of the stands; people were fleeing the stadium from all corners. He picked up his binoculars and focused down on the players, he could see his aunt rushing out there to speak to them. Scott let go of the binoculars and let them hang from around his neck. Scott pulled back from the bars and chewed the inside of his mouth, his father’s words rung in his ears. If anything happens, get out of there. Grab your cousins, grab anyone who is in danger and get out of there Scott. Scott knew that most of his family were at a VIP box for his aunt. Around that area was where everyone would be. Scott moved from his spot in the stalls and rushed down the steps, the destination was clear within his mind. As he got to the right floor Scott walked briskly over to a section of the stalls where he saw a familiar red head. Caitlyn was there, along with Billie and Quinn and Charlie. All from his own house. He pushed his way over to them. “Lyn, we gotta get out of here.” Scott said tapping his cousin on the shoulder with one of his hands, his eyes darted to the other three. “We gotta go to the box.” Scott knew that some adults would be there. |
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| Caitlyn Weasley | Dec 17 2014, 10:01:36 PM Post #135 | ||
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Caitlyn jumped up with energy as the snitch was caught, cheering loudly and smiling ecstatically. And then she froze. A face appeared on the banners, one that Caitlyn recognised as a Gryffindoor from an older grade. What in hell...? The girl said something about pulling weeds and stopping thing from the root. And it didn't sound like some gardening campaign. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice from behind her, and a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, she saw her cousin Scott. She had know it would be either a familiar member or a friend for them to use her nickname, but she hadn't expected it to be Scott. Nodding, she stood up and looked to Billie, Quinn and Charlie. "You guys should come too." |
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| Rhys Carrow | Dec 18 2014, 12:48:45 AM Post #136 | ||
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Rhys stood behind Scott with a look somewhere between disgust and intrigue as people shoved by him, with no regard whatsoever to his status. Following his Gryffindor friend had been a stupid decision, he should have stayed in the neatly cordoned off box with the auror standing guard. The expression melted into something else entirely at the sight of Quinn, Billie, and Caityln. "Ladies," His twisted sight somehow managed to focus on all three, shifting with very little regard to subtlety, "Consider us your knights in shining armor." Had there been more room to maneuver, Rhys might have graced the group with a bow. "What the ever-loving..." Billie shoved past the two newcomers, making damn sure to elbow Rhys in the side, releasing Quinn's arm as she did so. There was no reason Quinn needed to be dragged along with Billie. Especially if it was going to be dangerous. Which was yet to be determined. Rhys flinched and watched the Gryffindor girl, taller than he was, start bodily shoving her way through the crowd. Hot... or scary? It was hard to say. "She'll be back." He decided, though no one was likely to be paying attention, as he turned back to the main group. "Shall we? This ridiculous chant is getting wearisome." |
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| Scott Weasley | Dec 18 2014, 12:44:11 PM Post #137 | ||
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Scott nodded back to his cousin and moved back ready to pull Caitlyn and Rhys into the crowd.But when Caitlyn suggested that they should come along with them Scott had to stop in his tracks. He was ready to get out of there and get to the VIP booth, which was where his family would be surely. Scott rolled his eyes at Rhys’ comment, of course he would be chatting up the nearest girls at a time where people were getting pushed and shoved around the stadium. Everyone was in a panic, and Scott could see that it was almost a red sea. He only now noticed that as he looked out into the crowd. His body was pushed back by Billie, and it seemed that Caitlyn’s friends had been scared away by Rhys. Scott rolled his eyes and turned to face the crowd. “She’ll be back with a knife.” Scott dully commented as he nodded at his friend and led the group through a crowd of adults. He was thankful for the growth spurt he had during the summer as now he could actually see over other people, he didn’t feel so tiny for once. Luckily for them the booth was pretty close to where Caitlyn had been standing. Scott, following by Caitlyn and Rhys, shoved their way into the VIP booth where the McKelvey family were situated. Inside he also noticed that Sirius and James were here, no sign of his cousin Amelia or his aunt Jessica. Scott shut the door behind him and turned to face the family. His eyes were almost instantly drawn to Morgan as he looked around the room, but then he instead turned to Dave Sr. “It’s chaos out there.” Scott started, unsure of what else to say. But he continued. “My dad told me to come here if there was any trouble.” He stated as though he felt the need to say why he had burst into the booth. Scott had the right to be here, he was a Weasley after all and this was their booth. But at the same time he had hardly spoken to the McKelvey family. |
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| Daisy Fitzroy | Dec 18 2014, 01:28:46 PM Post #138 | ||
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BREAKER OF CHAINS
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As the members of the Vox Populi scampered into the tunnel, Daisy remained behind, glaring woefully at Vera Wickham’s cold corpse on the floor. In death, she was beautiful, a sleeping ivory angel. Her flesh was a web of desired genetics, from Precious and Collin Wickham, the blood in her veins as pure as fresh, virginal snow. Vera Wickham had everything in the world and she took it for granted. ”Daisy,” John Teller said cautiously, ”we need to go now.” His warning went unheeded. Daisy uncorked a vial of blue liquid, electric currents rolling through her tongue as she tilted her head back and drank the Polyjuice Potion. When she finished, she pocketed the glass and turned to John Teller and Thomas White. ”You two go on without me, I’ve got this,” she conceded. Teller and White exchanged a confused look, but they decided not to question their leader. Wordlessly, they vanished into the hole. Precious Lestrange is coming for me… Her and the entire pureblood community. Daisy thought, kneeling to the bag beside her feet. Precious Lestrange is going to kill my mother and my sister. I need to stop her before any more blood is spilled. She pulled out a handful of rolled parchments and a folded red cloth. This war has been silent for long enough. The only way to make her weak is to expose her to the world in her most vulnerable state. After a few minutes, Daisy Fitzroy stepped back to admire her work. Vox Populi posters were pressed against the wall, Daisy’s eager face holding out her hand and her wand in the other to welcome prospect members. DAISY FITZROY HEARS YOUR VOICE Said the posters. Daisy took her wand and engraved bold, red lettering into the walls. THE PUREBLOODS WILL BLEED. Said the grafitit. And lastly, Vera Wickham’s corpse laid covered with a Vox Populi flag thrown over her body. Vera Wickham was meant to be found in a room of burning red. Disguised in an innocent-looking persona, Daisy vanished into the tunnel. |
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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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| Justin Carmichael | Dec 19 2014, 12:19:13 AM Post #139 | ||
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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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Precious -- just Precious, no surname to define her -- was an enigmatic force of the universe. She was broken glass glittering across asphalt, beautiful shards twinkling before your eyes panned to wreckage and splintered metal wrapped around a pole. She was a skull through the windshield on impact, blood like perfume. Her soul was decades old, her skin soft and her life nothing but a tumbling asteroid shattering in the earth's atmosphere. As the foundation beneath her feet crumbled, Justin found himself staggering beneath her weight, frightened of feeling the coldness of her skin but determined to keep her upright. "Tinsley sent me," Justin said resolutely. He struggled against the hysteria of a woman shattered; from the corner of his eyes, he watched as more unfamiliar faces stormed in, and Theodore Wickham slammed into the ground. Justin exhaled heavily as utter chaos erupted. "Tinsley knows. She felt it." Justin had no better explanation; he wasn't sure what weird sisterhood Tinsley and Precious shared and, frankly, he didn't care to know. Ever. People around Justin were Disapparating, frightened of the scene unfolding. They were cowards. Justin placed his hands over Precious' as they clawed at his collar and pulled him close; he looked deeply into her face, his eyes a hazy, familiar blue, just like his sister's. "Breathe." It was a simple command and one that he hoped would help. Losing a child was a sensation that Justin could not fathom, but reasoning with the madness of Precious' bulging eyes and shrieks was nearly useless. He only hoped that the mention of Tinsley would bring Precious to her senses, or at least distract her long enough so that Justin could make sure Theodore Wickham hadn't completely died right along his twin. Justin wanted so desperately to roll his eyes. What kind of welcome back was this? |
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| Quinn Paterson | Dec 19 2014, 12:40:45 PM Post #140 | ||
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i've become so tired, so much more aware
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Quinn nodded in agreement when Billie stated that they should go. They needed to get out of here in case things turned really ugly. But at the same time Quinn wanted to go get her brother, she looked out onto the pitch and saw him stood with the players. They were probably at the safest point; no one else could get onto the field unless they had access to the changing rooms. Only the players and coaches had that, and a few family members. Quinn paused; she looked at the badge around her neck. “We could go find my brother as well.” Quinn suddenly said turning to Billie. But then another voice piped up, one she didn’t recognise initially. She turned around and saw Scott Weasley was there, he must have come here to find his cousin. Caitlyn invited them to come along with them; Quinn pondered the idea for a moment. That was probably the best option, they could decide where to go from there right? Quinn turned ready to express her agreement to that idea when another voice spoke up. Rhys. Quinn rolled her eyes and put her hand to her forehead, he was the type of guy who would knock himself out then proclaim that it was an act of bravery which saved them all. Billie suddenly shoved past the two of them and disappeared into the crowd. Quinn couldn’t leave Billie to fight the crowds on her own. “I need to go after her.” Quinn proclaimed pushing past the two boys and turning to look at Charlie. She nodded her head at him and then dashed off after Billie, hoping that he would come with them. “Hey! Vi! Wait up!” |
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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