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Gryffindor: 0 |
Slytherin: 0 |
Ravenclaw: 0 |
Hufflepuff: 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 (3,342 Views) | |||
| Caitlyn Weasley | Dec 19 2014, 05:42:15 PM Post #141 | ||
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Caitlyn waited for the three to answer, however another boy spoke up first. Rolling her eyes, Caitlyn watched as Billie trod off, and Quinn followed. Turning around, she again rolled her eyes at the cause of annoyance. "Did you have to scare them off, Carrow," she said moodily to the boy that had followed her cousin. They were in the same year, but Caitlyn didn't really know anything about the boy except his house and last name. She could help but scoff at what the boys said next. "I second that," she scoffed in response to Scott's comment about Billie being back with a knife. Caitlyn followed her cousin, along with Carrow, to the VIP box. She was suprised to see that none of her family were there, not even her cousins, but she wasn't too suprised to see the McKelvey family. She didn't really know them, so she just sat down and listened to Scott. |
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| Jessica Weasley | Dec 20 2014, 09:59:16 AM Post #142 | ||
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Charms Professor
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Jessica had sent her daughter out of the stadium and rushed down to see what was happening with her team. When they had won a wash of relief flew through her system, it was more than amazing. She was more than happy, but that was taken away so quickly that she never really got to celebrate in the moment. Not like her daughter who started screaming the second they won. Once Amelia had been sent off with Percy, Jessica rushed down to the pitch and over to the England players. All of them looked confused and were exchanging worrying looks. Violet was still holding the snitch in her hands when Jessica got over there. “What did you see?” Jessica quickly asked as the team turned to look at her. They all exchanged looks between one another before Primrose spoke up. “Nothing, literally! We had just won and then that chick turned up on the screen.” Primrose said with obvious aggression in her voice. Jessica nodded her head and looked up to where Donatella was situated, it would certainly be nothing to do with her. Then what could it be? “Who even was she?” Mabel asked, but she seemed more worried than Primrose did. “A student of mine, I think my daughter knows her.” Jessica would need to return up to her box and ask Dave what he thought of the whole situation; Emma needed to know as well. They needed to all speak about whatever that was. The words still rung in Jessica’s ears. “A fight that started years ago and goes as deep as blood ties… What does that mean?” Ralph was now speaking about the situation; Jessica paused for a moment as she thought about the words. She tried to recall what her daughter had told her about what happened in Hogwarts before she arrived there. “Blood ties? That has to be to do with muggleborns and purebloods or whatever, right? Or families?” Primrose was speaking again; Jessica nodded along with the player. She had to be right about that, Jessica knew the pain of being subjected to torment because of your blood status but at the same time she didn’t understand. Daisy was a Gryffindor; if she were a Slytherin the hatred would be more apparent and obvious. Had something else happened within those walls? Jessica hummed. “We need to get out of here, either way. It isn’t safe.” Jessica looked up to the crowds that were rushing around with panic-struck faces. “We’ll go get your stuff from the changing rooms and decide where to go from there.” Jessica firmly said, her team nodded and she led them off the pitch planning to find the others later on. |
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| Bradley Bhodhsa | Dec 20 2014, 01:34:43 PM Post #143 | ||
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I am Tyler "TJ" Jekyll
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Bradley stormed into the stadium, pushing back anyone who got in his way with ease. There was no question in his mind where he was going. As he walked up the steps he wondered to himself whether the ministry would remember his face, probably not. He had changed a lot since he was stuck in Azkaban, his long beard was gone and now he looked a lot younger. It did help that he could take on a new face at will, if he were unlucky enough to come across a ministry man with a good memory then he would just peel on Garrett and escape into the crowd. But for now, he was safe. As he walked along a familiar face came into view, Bradley stopped and changed direction almost immediately. He rushed over to where Dolores stood. “What are you doing here on your own?” Bradley asked his second cousin, someone he saw as a niece more than anything. He noticed the tears in her eyes, and the stain of makeup on her cheeks. “You know?” Bradley questioned before sighing. “We should go to the box, Dean is there.” Bradley revealed slowly nodding his head and hoping she agreed. |
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| Ariella de Pointe du Lac | Dec 20 2014, 01:37:32 PM Post #144 | ||
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A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.
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Ariella and Ioanna walked in silence for most of the walk back to the Quidditch Pitch. The only sounds that echoed across the desolate fields were children, giggling in the fronts of their tents as they tumbled and wrestled into the dirt and mud. Supporters of England were flooding the fields now, their colors streaking across the sky like watercolor paint as they ran, flags fluttering behind them like elaborate capes. The energy was electric. Ariella smiled, nodding her head in tune with raucous cheers and screaming; we won! We won! Their shrill calls into the growing haze of night might have been misleading. Did anyone realize what had happened? Of course not. All that the public knew, as they stumbled about and refilled their flasks, was that England had won a Quidditch game, securing themselves a spot in the next games. At some point, a bunch of frolicking teenagers protesting invisible threats had done some sneaky magic, but for what? It was propaganda, the kind of thing that could be easily brushed off as just teenagers being radical. Aurors would shove their wands into the guts of Vox flesh, curse them, and drag them off amidst a stampede of fan footfalls. Everyone would wake up calm, no one any wiser. Ariella could envision their conversations now. "They shouldn't have protested like that! All violent! No one will listen to yelling!" She could envision the red of their scarves dancing in the wind like streaks of flying phoenix feathers. "This isn't an Us versus Them issue! They're making it about blood status!" Their scarves were like blood orange flames, threatening to burn them all to the ground like ash. "This world isn't unequal -- it's only if you lack the motivation to get anywhere!" Quietly, under her breath, Ariella began to sing. Her voice warbled, husky and low, nearly inaudible to anyone but Ioanna. As they made their way closer to the looming stadium, Ariella's voice grew louder, stronger. Pain cracked her voice as it slid over the high notes and she kept walking, her heels digging into the mud, her plaid skirt fluttering around her thighs. "Are you, are you... comin' to the tree, they strung up a man, they say who murdered three..." "We won! England! We won!" The cheers were deafening as they grew closer to the stadium's entrance. Bodies grew thicker, the crowds more like brick walls. Elbows and shoulders bumped against Ariella's as she walked forward; she reached for Ioanna's hand, making sure they couldn't be separated. Was this where Vera Wickham had died? Where was her body now? Did they leave her hidden? When would someone find it? When would the cheers grow from joyous to shrill shrieks of terror? "We won! We won! We won!" "God save our gracious Queen! Long live our noble Queen!" "Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight in the hanging tree..." "Send her victorious, happy and glorious! Long to reign over us, God save the Queen!" "Are you, are you comin' to the tree, where I told you to run, so we'd both be free... strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight..." "We won! We won!" "Are you, are you, comin' to tree, wear a necklace of hope, side by side with me..." "LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" Ariella stopped abruptly, staring ahead at the looming stadium. Together, she and Ioanna entered, immediately confronted by the raging riptide of people all leaving towards the doors, cheering and shrieking. Children danced around their feet as Ariella and Ioanna continued forward, determined to break free of the crowd's strong current. Ariella immediately found the stairs and took them, two by two, her legs stretching to rush up faster. It felt like years that air was caught in her lungs, wheezing, until she reached an upper level platform. She looked out at the field, now empty. Across the stadium, people looked like twinkling lights as they migrated towards the doors. Their bodies looked like ants. Ariella sighed and tilted her head upwards, staring intently at the windows of the several different VIP boxes. One was holding the McKelvey's and Weasley's; from their angle, Ariella could see a few redheads peering through the glass. That must have meant that the others were higher. Ariella, somehow, knew where she was going, as if Vera's hand was at the base of her spine, smiling and leading her forward. I'm here, Vera. I'm going for them. Tears were burning Ariella's eyes, but she struggled forward anyway. Without another word, Ariella began to rush up the stairs, two by two. Her song was still echoing in her mind. No stranger would it be, if we met at midnight in the hanging tree... I'm coming, Vera. Ariella hurried, landed on the next upper level and then crouched forward, her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. Weren't there elevators here? Ariella's wet eyes looked at Ioanna. "I think this is them." She looked up. The VIP box above their heads, on this level, was as high as you could comfortably get: they were prime seats. From this angle, Ariella could see nothing inside but the reflection of the pitch against the glass. Without another word, Ariella rushed forward. Her shoulders slammed into the shoulders of others and she ran anyway, arms pumping at her sides. Her feet fell heavily against the ground and she crushed the people standing in her way, her palms growing cold and clammy the closer she felt it coming. I'm coming, Vera. Ariella stumbled forward, her eyes burning with tears, and she looked over her shoulder only to make sure that Ioanna was still catching up, her small frame easily circumventing the bodies of the crowds. Aurors were standing outside, their arms crossed against their chests. They knew Ariella's face; she noticed the recognition, a fleeting twitch of their mouths before they nodded quietly. Ariella inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and, with Ioanna, they entered Booker DeWitt's VIP box. The chaos was erupting like Tinsley's fireworks. Ariella's uncle was being held by none other Precious Lestrange, her trembling fingers ripping into the fabric of his collar. Ariella began to shake. She put an arm around Ioanna's shoulders and squeezed; behind Precious, she could see Theodore sinking to the ground -- Ariella gasped -- and Victor rushed to his side. "Go to him," said Ariella quickly. "Make sure Victor and Teddy are okay. I..." Ariella Precious Carmichael turned to face the gray, frightening visage of a woman destroyed. Quietly, Ariella inhaled deeply. I know you sent me here, Vera... and Ariella's eyes began to burn again. She set back her shoulders and stepped forward. She crossed the space between she and Precious and put a gentle hand on the back of her uncle. As if surprised by someone's touch, Justin Carmichael spun around. He was even more surprised to see Ariella there. Precious' hands eased from Justin's collar and Ariella felt tempted to reach out and touch them; she was almost frightened that she'd be shocked. Those hands have known blood. Ariella stood, her eyes locking with Precious'. Those hands have known pain. Ariella's lips trembled as Precious crumbled. Those hands have known Vera Svetlana. They were one. Ariella stepped forward, not daring to touch the ice queen before her, but she shook her head. Her face was now glistening with tears. "I think I know where to find her," choked Ariella. "I saw it when it happened. I felt it." That's all she could say. Tears, cold and fat, fell and slid down her cheeks. "I'm sorry." |
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| Ioanna MacGowan | Dec 20 2014, 10:44:12 PM Post #145 | ||
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Cold
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Ioanna and Ariella weren't part of the waves of human excitement that rushed towards them. The excited matchgoers danced around them, jumped and hooped and hollered - looking to Ioanna as if they might dance a jig or tear the stadium down. All that would be needed would be for one or two people to start it, and everyone would be doing it no matter what. Mob mentality: It set off Ioanna's danger senses every time, regardless of whether or not the mob was happy or angry. Does anyone else fear other people when they're excited? Ioanna did, sometimes. They put her on edge, especially if she was already anxious. As the revelers danced and cheered around her, their smiling mouths and glittering eyes jumped out at her, looking like the faces of treacherous monsters. Their smiles reminded her of the way Tinsley Carmichael smiled at her: like a snake ready to strike at the slightest provocation. Maybe it was just her, but crowds or even groups of happy, excited people seemed especially untrustworthy - as if they're revelry could turn malicious at any second, and the group would be too caught up in itself to understand the difference. They seemed eager to confirm Ioanna's fears as she felt someone unseen pinch her on her arse (not at all concerned with how old she was), and someone else asked Ariella "where do you think you're going, baby?" in a rude and salacious manner - things these people probably wouldn't do if not for being caught up in the rush of it all. Ioanna didn't react, though. She and Ariella pressed on; together, a rock of strong, reserved despair against a river of uninhibited abandonment. It parted around the two sisters, undaunted. Unstoppable. The sea of revelry parted around them, but not without some effort on their part as they pushed through: The crowd moved out into the campgrounds to continue their merrymaking; and Ariella and Ioanna moving against the current, towards the pitch, towards Booker DeWitt's box where only sadness and regret awaited them. It could just be that Ioanna was just experiencing being excluded from the group. She didn't share in their excitement; she wasn't part of the herd, and so it would be natural for her to feel anxious. Here was a sea of people who didn't think like she did. They were a threat - and they might feel the same way: Too many endorphins in one's system for too long tends to trigger fight-or-flight reactions, as if the body naturally assumed something painful was coming next. Those chemical reactions had always fascinated and confused Ioanna. Ariella's singing that old song wasn't helping Ioanna's anxiety, but it wasn't as bad as the people around them. Her low, husky tones had a foreboding color to them, and let Ioanna know that the two of them shared a common experience. She honestly thought she'd feel better once they'd pushed past the crowd, towards a place where her and her sister's somber and anxious minds might find like company: Vera's mourning family and friends. When they arrived at the box (whomever was guarding the box from the common riff-raff seemed to have vacated their post), Ioanna discovered she was right: Precious clung to Justin Carmichael, and Victor saw to Theodore, who had collapsed to the floor. The air was heavy with unbridled anxiety and pain. The weight of it was on their shoulders, and what were Ariella and Ioanna to do when faced with it? Relieve it? They hadn't come bearing joy, but truth: And the truth is pain. Perhaps they had the power to bring more understanding to the situation, and to fulfill Vera's dying wish; but in the end, more than anything, they were here to comiserate. Ariella confirmed Ioanna's thoughts by telling her to see to Victor and Theodore, even though nothing Ioanna could possibly say would take away the pain. Vera's final words had been nothing but the same regret that brought Theodore and Victor to their knees, and yet, Ioanna had to share them. As she slowly approached the two older boys, Ioanna felt like she belonged for the first time that day. What's more, Ioanna had just come to understand her suspicions about the revelers outside: It wasn't just that Ioanna couldn't share in the mob's happiness that made the little hairs on the back of head stand on end: It was their happiness itself. Happiness was a lie. It was a soup of chemical reactions that placated the mind and lulled into complacency. The truth about endporphins is that they worked by blocking pain. Their very function was to mask what was really going on. As she knelt beside Teddy, and met his eyes, she could feel her heartbeat quicken. It wasn't just a reaction to the pain that hung about the room, or her awkwardness at meeting someone else's eyes. The Heart of Atius that beat inside her chest was again reacting to the presence of the one who could draw the darkness from her - from it. It was the product of Azariah Amaranth's experiments, the birthplace of the darkness - destroyed by Ioanna's ancestor, but brought back into this world by Ioanna herself. It's heavy, drum-like beating in her ears struck her with an idea. "Theodore," she said quietly, trying to reach him, "It's me: Ioanna MacGowan, Ariella's sister. Do you remember me from Professor Salander's lab? I'm sorry about your sister. She had something she wanted to tell you. I could tell you, but it would take a lot of explaining, and I think I can just show you." Ioanna swallowed, lower lip quivering with a bit of fear. Theodore was not a friendly person, and he not only looked like he could snap Ioanna in half, most of the time, he looked like he would. She placed her small hand on his. "Put your hand on my heart," she said, guiding his hand to her chest, "And draw out the darkness. I think it will help." Ioanna hoped it would. She didn't know what else to do. She did know, however, that truth was in this room. She knew these people; they could be trusted. Happy people were not to be trusted, because they were always hiding the truth, or hiding from the truth. Sure: fearful or desperate people were capable of anything - even horrible things - but when looking into the eyes of a fearful or desperate person, Ioanna could see that plainly. Nothing masked what was really going on in people's heads better than happiness. For Ioanna, the darkness was always a far more comforting place than the light. Of what Ioanna knew of Vera Wickham, she had always been one to gleefully subject others to pain. In life, she radiated nothing but sinister joy when she imitated her mother. If Teddy could, for a moment, taste Vera's true inner life through the darkness that coursed in Ioanna, then perhaps it would all be made clear for him. Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 21 2014, 04:06:34 AM.
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| Charles Snow | Dec 21 2014, 12:18:18 PM Post #146 | ||
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Charlie barely had time to celebrate England's win before a red colored chaos broke out. Very quickly, cheers of support became murmurs of worry. It all seemed to go over Charlie's head. Before he could take in everything that was said, his group began to move as well as joined by two other students Charlie was familiar with. He nodded at Scott and Rhys arrival. It soon became clear that Scott was the more mature one. Rhys was quick to notice Billie, much to Charlie's annoyance. The kid seemed to lack tact but also apparently never heard of the phrase "a time and place for everything." Scott suggested making their way to a nearby viewing box, which Charlie readily agreed with. Though the exact threat of whoever was behind all this was yet to be determined, Charlie knew that it was better to get out of the stadium than to stay where they were. It was at that moment that Billie ran off, something about her father. "Billie," cried Charlie, reaching out for her but missing completely. The idea of her on her own made him extremely uncomfortable. Not that she couldn't handle herself, of course. Out of anyone, she was the most capable. It was just that Charlie had yet to see anyone from this Vox group really do anything other than shout at them and cause an uproar. This could be all they wanted right? Charlie could only assume they had something else was up their sleeve and the worse was yet to come. And Billie was running straight into it. Just then, someone shoved a red scarf into his hand. Observing it, there was nothing unique or obnoxious about it. Just a plain old scarf. To Charlie, that is what scared him the most. They were too busy planning and moving foward to concern themselves with details of a scarf. A plain one would have to do, and it did. When he looked to see who it was, they were gone. There was so much of it around, it could have been anybody. He had never been more ashamed of his house color yet he couldn't help but hold onto their identifier. Finally breaking out of its trance, Charlie shoved the scarf into his back pocket. Scott, Rhys and Caitlyn had gone. He saw Quinn's mouth moving but not really taking in the sound. With a blink of an eye, she too was gone. Just like that, his feet were moving, chasing after her. He assumed they were after Billie, making the pride he had for his House return. "You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;" He knew Quinn could have turned around and headed for safety at anytime but for both Billie and her, their friends and their family were too important. "Quinn, wait," he exclaimed. Finally catching up her, he grabbed her arm to stop her. "Okay, Billie or your family first?" Looking around, he didn't see signs of either. Edited by Charles Snow, Dec 21 2014, 12:51:33 PM.
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| Elizabeth Slate | Dec 21 2014, 12:44:45 PM Post #147 | ||
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THE LAMB
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Whispers. ”Do you think she’s going the right way?” ”I’d hope so. Thirty minutes is an awfully long time to be dead alone.” ”Stop. Stop it.” Elizabeth whispered through clenched teeth, palm pressed to her forehead as she leaned against the wall for support. Every vein in her temple throbbed with uncertainty, the void beyond the vast expanse of her brain seeping eerily into her conscious, filling her with helplessness. Elizabeth attempted to control her thoughts, but the chaos that surrounded her proved to be an unreachable barrier. ”Where is she going? Where is she going? Is she okay?” “Oh dear, it’s happening.” The ringing in Elizabeth’s ears grew deafening. Her hands clenched into fists, mouth running dry as her vital senses began to fail her. Elizabeth was bleeding from her nose, drops of scarlet drip drip dripping onto her white shirt. ”Guh… Richard,” the dead woman called out for her love to flee. Her vision became a haze of colors, red, white and blue, pigments of light streaking across her blurred gaze. But between them, she could clearly see the glowing path set out for her, a destination that fate had designed for her to follow. She moved in staggering movements, ignoring the offers of help parted her way. Elizabeth continued, her brain bubbling with frustration as she navigated through the crowd. She did not know how she made it, but she did. Her movements were robotic, as if programmed to follow the instructions set into stone. Time and space had allotted for her to breach into the stars. Elizabeth’s blind eyes stared into the abyss as her trembling hand clenched for the cold doorknob. Unflinching, she threw open the door and entered the empty spectator’s box. Red. Elizabeth’s senses finally cleared, like the enlightening moment of relief after recovering from a an aggressive cold. Her eyes glossed over the flyers, Daisy Fitzroy reaching out a hand to her in an effort to pull Elizabeth’s empathy. Elizabeth remembered Daisy Fitzroy as clear as she remembered a perfect summer day. Two years was a long time to retain a perfect memory, but there were things that could not be forgotten. When Elizabeth had been trapped in Precious Lestrange’s office, then Wickham, she had witnessed the chilling horror of Pax Aurors bringing Fitzroy into the room for interrogation. The door behind Wickham was slammed shut. With a cigarette between her fingers, she strutted into the office, stilettos making no sound as she walked across the carpet. Behind her, two tall men dressed in dark cloaks restrained a struggling Daisy Fitzroy. "Bring her to the desk," Precious said. She lead them to the wooden furniture. The Pax forcefully slammed Daisy's face onto the surface. One held his hand on her neck so that she could not lift her head, and the other pinned both of her arms behind her back. Precious sat herself at the edge of the desk, carelessly nursing her cigarette. "While I understand that you're not a fan of the Triwizarding Tournament," began Precious. "I still don't appreciate you and your little friends trying to lure people away from the fun. Tell me, who else is in your group?" Daisy struggled against the Pax's grip. Each time she had been to the Headmaster's office, it had been for a firm scolding or a slight deduction of points. But she had never come against her will, and she had never had violence used against her. Dumbledore would never want anyone to lay a hand on his students. And he wasn't there to protect her. For now, the headmaster that towered above her was a sneaky dragon that ruled with an iron fist. She had been struggling so hard against the Pax that saliva began to drip from her mouth, and it began to pool on the desk, a subsequent reminder of the distraught and frustration that was brought on the young Fitzroy. Precious Wickham demanded answers. I'll kill her, I'll kill her. I swear, one day I will kill her. The only sound that came from Daisy was her grunts of disapproval. She would never reveal the names of other Vox members. Daisy relaxed, she breathed heavily, and stared at the smoke that danced from Wickham's cigarette. It had a calming effect on her. The only thing that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Daisy refused to speak to Wickham. And now, death. Because what seperated a girl from a woman? Blood. Elizabeth’s tears skidded down her cheeks, mouth agape as she drank in the scene. Words were painted onto the wall, but she could not distinguish them from her watery gaze. Elizabeth pressed her palms over her lips and suppressed her sobs. At the sight of the lump under the crimson flag, Elizabeth pushed herself forward, panicked sobs choking her throat as she moved near the corpse. She fell onto her knees, teardrops raining upon the scarlet material, and laid her hand on the body, too afraid to pull back the flag because she knew what laid underneath. This was what happened when the struggle for power inflamed with bad blood. |
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| Quinn Paterson | Dec 21 2014, 02:49:42 PM Post #148 | ||
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i've become so tired, so much more aware
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Quinn pushed through the crowd as she looked around for Billie, but it was as though the red bandanas had swallowed her friend up. She seemed to have disappeared, but Quinn didn’t stop. She kept pushing forward and forward. Quinn squeezed past a group of adults who were yelling about an attack, but this wasn’t an attack. Was it? Quinn looked up at the men and a waft of beer drifted over her. She scrunched up her face, drunk men seeing things that weren’t there probably. Or hearing things. Suddenly a voice broke through the panic and a hand was placed on her arm. She spun around and saw it was Charlie, they were shoved closer together by a panicked mother and Quinn felt her cheeks burn. But she ignored that for the time being, trying to stop her eyes from searching his face. She let him hold onto her arm before weighing up the options in her head, her face hardened. “Billie.” Quinn couldn’t leave her best friend all on her own, especially with this chaos. Quinn turned around and looked around her. “Hold my hand so we don’t get lost, I think she went this way.” Quinn said sliding her hand up and grabbing his before pulling him through the crowd. She thought Billie went this way anyway. “Vi! Where are you!” Quinn yelled over the crowd, she was determined. |
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| Charles Snow | Dec 21 2014, 08:21:00 PM Post #149 | ||
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As Quinn led Charlie through the crowd, he was thankful for his height. He able to see over most of the game goers but had yet to find any sign of Billie. At this point, he would be thankful for any familiar face at all. The most he was getting was either panicked or strange looks from those he passed. He didn't think that the pair might look a bit odd, going in the opposite direction of the crowd. Charlie was slowly beginning to lose hope of finding her. Soon they would have circled the whole stadium and staying inside longer than necessary would be foolish, especially if Billie had already left. Still, he knew he wouldn't give up if Quinn didn't. Her determined attitude soon became infectious. Looking around, he smiled brightly when he saw a ledge nearby. "This way," he said, leading Quinn through the fast moving crowd. He let go of her hand momentarily to climb up the ledge. His height added, he had a much clearer view of the area. After that, it was easy to spot the brown haired girl, who like Charlie and Quinn, going against the crowd instead of with it. "There," he shouted, jumping down. Grabbing her hand once more, he darted into the crowd. "C'mon!" |
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| Quinn Paterson | Dec 21 2014, 09:34:00 PM Post #150 | ||
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i've become so tired, so much more aware
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Quinn had to find Billie, she just had to. She couldn’t leave her friend alone in a crowd like this, of course Quinn knew that her friend would be fine if anything did happen but Quinn didn’t want anything to happen. So she needed to find Billie. That need drove Quinn forward further into the crowd, her fingers were still latched with Charlie’s and she was thankful that he had decided to accompany her. She would have gone after her friend even if Charlie had decided to stay behind, but it was still nice to have someone else there to help her look. When he yanked her over to the ledge Quinn just waited, hoping that he would see someone. And when he did she didn’t even have any time to react as he was pulling her away in a matter of seconds. “I’m following!” Quinn yelled after him, she looked around for Billie and noticed a tuff of brown hair which seemed way too familiar. “Vi! Behind you!” She yelled as loudly as she could, trying to get her friends attention. Quinn hoped that she hadn’t deafened Charlie in the process. |
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| Billie Baker | Dec 21 2014, 10:03:56 PM Post #151 | ||
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I'm Vi
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The quickest way down to the pitch... The best Billie could think to do was to go back to where they had seen Quinn's brother off and follow the direction he had gone in. Yeah. That would have been a great plan, if Billie wasn't suddenly caught elbowing her way against the crowd of fleeing civilians. A hand grabbed her shoulder, firm and authoritative. "What are you doing, kid? Get out of here." The voice belonged to one Magda Emmereth. "Do you know what's going on? Is my dad here?" "You didn't happen to see anything? Maybe where these Vox came from?" Emmereth prompted, her voice strained over the crowd. "No, I think they were just sitting in the crowd, waiting..." Billie hadn't been paying as much attention as she normally would have. Even still, it would have taken a rather large stroke of luck to catch anything suspicious in such a large crowd. Emmereth nodded, though her jaw tightened unhappily. "Alright, get out of here." The senior auror started to push through the crowd, but stopped as Billie grabbed her arm. Emmereth sighed and turned back around, "He's here, but now isn't a good time and you know it." It was then that Billie heard the calls of her friends. Well, her friend and Charlie. Who was Beck's friend. "The fuck'd you chase after me for?" Billie snorted, loudly, over the crowd. "I'd rather not have my hand held, thanks." Literally, apparently. The Gryffindor sincerely hoped there wasn't anything going on between those two, one match with the Gryffindor guy was more than enough to put her off having to see him again. "Ain't you got a brother to find?" |
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| Dave McKelvey | Dec 22 2014, 05:36:57 AM Post #152 | ||
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No wave will shatter these scales.
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To say that Dave McKelvey felt surprised would be a gross understatement. The professor's excitement at England's victory had turned to intense anxiety as soon as Daisy Fitzroy's face appeared on the magical screens around the stadium. "What...?" was the only word Dave could muster as Daisy's words were transmitted to the audience of thousands that had shown up to watch the World Cup. Daisy and her red-scarfed companions had become somewhat of a spectacle around the school, but Dave would have never suspected that they might actually get themselves in trouble in the real world. A hard lump formed in Dave's throat. This was nothing more than an ill-advised stunt; it just had to be, but Daisy's words rang in Dave's ears. "...martyr." "...blood ties." Dave felt his skin prickling as Daisy's danced through his mind. "If you want to get rid of them you gotta pull from the root." What did it all mean? "Dave!" Cosette's voice snapped the man back into reality. Dave turned abruptly with eyes glazed over as if he were in a trance. The man blinked a few times and regained focus, realizing that his family was looking to him for direction. "Um," Dave choked, unable to speak coherently. He looked down as he felt a light tug at each of his arms as Charlotte and Morgan attached themselves to him. The comforting look on the twins' faces quickly extinguished whatever grief was holding Dave back. He cleared his throat. "We need to stay together and avoid the mob," Dave announced to the box, which was now filled with a random assortment of individuals, some of whom had not been present earlier. Jessica's nephew and a few others had made their way into the box and also seemed to be looking for direction, but Amelia and Jessica herself were no where to be found. "We will stay here until the crowds subside," Dave proclaimed with an authoritative tone. The last thing he needed was to be responsible for someone under his charge getting hurt. "Inside the stadium is going to be the safest place to be until the security gets control of the people celebrating," Dave continued. "People are going to be stampeding down to the campground in a rush so our best bet is to sit tight until something changes." |
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Dave McKelvey - Dave McKelvey Jr. - Charlotte McKelvey - Morgan McKelvey
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| Scott Weasley | Dec 22 2014, 10:20:27 AM Post #153 | ||
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Scott stared at Dave as he spoke about everyone staying together. He took over as a leader should; Scott liked to think that when he got older he would be able to command the same sort of respect. Scott firmly nodded moving away from the door and standing near Dave Jr. “How long will that be?” Scott asked curiously, his eyes darted around the box as he started to count up who was here and who wasn’t. It took him a moment to realise that two of his family members weren’t here. Where was Amelia and aunt Jessica? Scott could see over the stands and looked down to the pitch, it seemed as though the England team were being led off. Jessica had to be there with them, but what about Amelia? Scott was slightly worried about his cousin but he didn’t see much need for it. She could handle herself. Scott looked up to Dave Jr, there wasn’t too much difference between them now. It was weird to think just last year he was shorter than most of the people in the room. “Was that Daisy on the screen?” Scott asked to anyone who would listen, the girls face was one he had been around the halls at school. It wasn’t one you could easily forget, she had an intensity which could make you freeze on the spot. |
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| Quinn Paterson | Dec 22 2014, 10:27:42 AM Post #154 | ||
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i've become so tired, so much more aware
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Quinn was thankful that she had found Billie and that her friend was fine, in all honesty she felt a little bit stupid for worrying so much about it in the first place. Of course Billie would be fine. Suddenly realising her hand was still connected to Charlie’s made Quinn’s face fire up, so she let go and scratched the back of her head. She watched Billie and then shook her head. “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t run into the line of fire or whatever.” Quinn tried to sound cool, but her voice was slightly shaky. “He will be fine; I should stick with you I think…” Quinn slowly said, not wanting to leave her friend on her own again. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do, and her brother would be fine! He had a broom; he could fly out of there if he needed to. Quinn just wanted to make sure that the three of them stuck together, even if Billie’s comments to Charlie weren’t the nicest. |
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| Pandora Abel | Dec 22 2014, 01:10:38 PM Post #155 | ||
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Don't be delicate. Be vast and brilliant.
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What is going on? Stay together. Sounded like a good plan as long as no one came near the box. Wow the box was high off the ground. And Pandora was panicking. Oh that's what that is. She shook her head to clear it. Now wasn't the time for panic, and Pandora knew that. Her leg jittered up and down. She bit her lip. She shook her head to another person's question about how long it would take. "Who knows." she answered quietly. She wished Professor McKelvey's solution had been "get the hell out of the box". At least then she could have done something. Waiting was not Pandora's game. "I hate just sitting here." She muttered to Dave beside her, softly as she could so that no one else heard. She didn't like situations where waiting was the game, where the whole thing was out of her hands. But people didn't necessarily need to know that. |
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| Precious Lestrange | Dec 22 2014, 03:28:08 PM Post #156 | ||
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UNDESIRABLE NO. 1
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Precious Lestrange stared into her horrid, hysterical reflection in Ariella’s watery eyes. Every delicate bone in her spine was shattering, a forceful whirlwind of anguish ripping through her throat as she choked on her words. Vera? Vera? Where is Vera? Vera? The room fell silent as the spectators witnessed Precious Lestrange’s iron visage crumble into dust. Suddenly, the denial rooted into her brain like a tumor. Her eyes glossed over with delusion, lips trembling as she struggled to string a coherent sentence together. Her daughter’s name was a prayer. ”V-V…..” She was a young child again, barely learning how to move her tongue and tap at the palette. ”Vera.” Precious laid a hand on Ariella’s shoulder, and briefly, a small surge of energy passed through them, a connection that stemmed deeper than affiliation, but blood. Magna. A blood that made them great. Precious pushed passed Ariella, her gaze trained intently on the looking glass before her, a chill rattling her spine. She stepped forward in slow, cautious movements, her watchers drawing in their breaths as if it would be their last. She held her right hand outward, a blind child attempting to navigate the inevitable darkness. Vera. Vera. Vera. Vera. Where are you, Vera? Her fingertips pressed onto the surface, an intense coldness flooding her touch. Carefully, she watched herself, her eyes swollen and laced with veins. ”Vera?” She whispered hoarsely. Do not go gentle into that good night. Vera Svetlana stared into her, her hand against the window to mirror her mother’s touch. She was perfect, the moon child born from Precious’s womb, a dancing light of energy with promise written in her stars. Precious’s breathing grew still as she realized she would never see her again. Her heart hammered into her ears, a wardrum to salute the lost, and she could only see the beautiful, ivory glow of Vera Wickham’s ghost. Precious relished in the moment briefly. My child. My beautiful, beautiful child. Her glistening face pulled into a sorrowful smile, tears skidding down her face as the words were lost on her lips. She could not speak, but only sob, a cacophony of weeps and wails as her daughter faded into the silence. As soon as her own reflection returned, a sense of urge immediately seized her. Desperate, she turned sharply and stormed toward Ariella, a hurricane of grief. ”TAKE ME TO HER!” Precious demanded, face scarlet and shimmering with tears. ”WHERE IS SHE?!” She howled, the taste of blood bleeding onto her tongue. |
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| Jax Lestrange | Dec 22 2014, 03:30:06 PM Post #157 | ||
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UNHOLY ONES
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In sickness and in health. In poverty and prosperity. Jackson Erik Lestrange swore his life to Precious, a promise of forever, until the oceans dried and the mountains crumbled into dust. He was now beginning to realize that she drew wicked energy to her like a magnet. But he had vowed to her every second of his life, an unwavering devotion, until their untimely deaths. Jax quickly crossed the floor in four lengthy strides, his mind jumping wildly from conclusion to conclusion as his delusional wife raged at the light. He inserted himself between her and Ariella, just seconds before the lioness could pounce on her prey. Flesh and flesh collided, her warpath forced to a halt as he seized his wife by the arms. He knew to never lay a hand on her unless invited to, but her desperation was destroying her. Jax hurt too, his heart bleeding from a gaping wound, but he had to be rational when she could not be. He had to be her anchor in the whirl of chaos, the eye of the storm. Precious was quickly losing sight of her cleverness and was on a detour into Azkaban’s walls again. She struggled as he anticipated, but he wrapped his arms around her, a prison of flesh. ”You can’t, my love, you can’t,” he tried softly, attempting to soothe her cries. ”The Ministry will find you.” But she cried, and wept and pleaded, but he could do nothing but hold her as he hoped the storm would pass. Carefully, Jax dared himself to take her face in his hands and held her. ”You can’t go out there. You can’t leave this room or you’ll never see any of us again.” And she cried and wept again, and fell limp in is arms as she pleaded with Ariella to take her to the corpse of her child. |
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| Theodore Wickham | Dec 22 2014, 08:28:58 PM Post #158 | ||
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IMPERATOR
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”Get up.” Vera Wickham’s voice echoed through Theodore’s head, a call from the abyss that drew his concentration to the present. His eyes rolled to the ceiling, sweat clamping to his temples as the voices danced above his still body, life rolling through his veins. He could still feel his sister’s presence, her flesh, her spirit. Her soul would always be a part of his because they had split from the same zygote, two sides of the same coin. Breathless, he flickered into consciousness, the sorrow and anguish falling upon him again like a bag of bricks. He suddenly realized that his twin, his other-half, was gone. His mother’s sobs and pleas confirmed his denial; he was breathing, pulsing with the darkness, but it was Vera who had the light siphoned from her. Theodore stilled, afraid that if he moved he would break the earth’s alignment. Everything was happening at once and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His heart began to race in his chest. Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Suddenly, he was lost in the Forbidden Forest again, death on the brink of pulling him into oblivion. The air was icy, the owls were hooting in harmony, and the wolves howled at the full moon. Darkness was a looming shadow, an old friend. He was whispering prayers and apologies, but he looked into the face of death with opportune in his mind. Death is but the next great adventure. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. I've read that... death.... is the next great adventure.... This is...peaceful. My heart is slowing..... I'm dying, but I'm watching the clouds as I do so. This is....the final sunrise...The last one I'll ever...see. Dolly will see thousands more... Carmen will experience a million sunsets.. Hopefully not... alone. I hope she will heal quickly from this... Ba-dump.... Ba-dump. Death is ...but the...next...great... Ba-dump........ Ba-du-dump... Life. So beautiful, with it's intricate little surprises, infinite constellations... An experience. A voyage. Ba-dump. He took one final breath, with a mind so clear that he saw nothing but a graceful white. Ba......dump. Serendipity. Theodore gasped suddenly, as if resurfacing from a deep dive. His lungs burned raw from the intake, heart beating quickly as his darkness fed off of the energy that neared him. He began to nourish himself from the Heart of Atius like a young from its mother. His bloodshot eyes pierced directly into Ioanna’s, rage and fury flaring in his chest in a sudden burst of hot energy. He snatched Ioanna’s dress and drew her close. ”What? What is it? What is it? What is it? Tell me. Tell me, tell me!” |
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| Ariella de Pointe du Lac | Dec 22 2014, 08:57:56 PM Post #159 | ||
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A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.
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Ariella watched as the marble of Precious continued to crumble, her gasping hysteria fading to only the painful silence of ragged breathing. Delicately Ariella stepped away, her eyes burning with effort; she could not stand to see Jax's arms, and the way they bound Precious to reality. Something in Ariella's heart, a faint, otherworldly beating, was shuddering in her chest. Around her wrist, a thin gold bracelet, once a gift to her mother, throbbed alongside her pulse. "It's a room," whispered Ariella, her eyes closed now. She wasn't sure why, or how she could, but she could see the walls perfectly, smothered with crimson. Posters were plastered across the walls, peeling slightly at the edges. "Red. I see red. Scarves. A face. Hers." Daisy's voice, stone-cold with narrowed eyes, glared from the posters with balled fists. The sounds of raucous cheering from the English crowds could be heard pounding their feet outside. Hers... "A VIP box," said Ariella weakly, and it took only a moment for several men in dark suits to adjust their collars and rush out. "Where... where..." Ariella's voice faltered. The vision faded just as quickly as it came, a foggy dream from days ago. Her mind buzzed in the emptiness, silence palpable except for the sound Precious Lestrange's life crashing like a tidal wave. Suddenly, Theodore's voice rang out like a curse. Ariella spun around and screamed when she saw his rough hands yanking at her dress, pulling his face close to hers. Instantly, Ariella was rushing across the room, her wand gripped in her hand. A panic was seething behind her teeth. "Teddy, please!" It was all she could say. Let Io go. Don't make her do this again. But Ariella couldn't choke out the words she needed to say, because Ariella felt it, too. Vera was everywhere. Quietly, Ariella sank to her knees. The gold bracelet around her wrist throbbed silently, a low hum of a heartbeat, a constant reminder of her life. |
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Lay down your head, close your eyes
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| Dolores Draper | Dec 22 2014, 10:01:26 PM Post #160 | ||
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FIRE ☾ PURE ☾ RISE
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Dolly glanced up at the rugged voice that addressed her. She shrank into herself, afraid to find the offering from a stranger, but she realized her guardian was her own flesh and blood, Uncle Bradley. Relief swept over her in a calming wave. Dolly wiped her face with the sleeve of her blazer, eyes sparkling with tears. She mustered a smile through her sorrow. ”I felt it,” she answered his question with staggering confidence. Dolly leaned against the wall for support, her chest swelling with desperation and hurt. Vera’s sudden passing had torn her apart, and now her mind was struggling to heal the void left in the wake. But she felt herself confronted by denial: Vera isn’t dead. Vera isn’t dead. Vera isn’t dead. Vera isn’t dead. Dolly reached for her uncle’s hand and clamped on for dear life. The thought of seeing her brother again brought a sense of calmness, but she still retained the bout of worry over losing Vera Wickham. Her cousin’s death was bound to have serious repercussions and a nasty backlash in the pureblood community. What Dolly wanted to know was how it happened. Had someone murdered her? The thought made every vein in Dolly’s wrists go cold with fear. ”You lead the way,” she said softly, pushing herself closer to her guardian. ”I don’t know how to get there.” |
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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