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America vs England; Year 4 - Summer - WC Day 2/First Round
Topic Started: Dec 3 2014, 01:47:36 PM (3,341 Views)
Ioanna MacGowan
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Cold

Ioanna could feel her body vibrating as Teddy drew out the darkness from her heart. It didn't hurt her to do this, but it didn't exactly feel good, either. It wasn't her being drained of anything, but the heart - which was hers, and not hers, at the same time. If she lost it, she would surely die, because it was still responsible for pumping blood throughout her body, but the darkness within it was not accessible to her, as she was not gifted with that Elementium.

She detested that vile energy locked up inside her: a cruel byproduct of Azariah Amaranth's experiments. What many simplistically referred to as the element of "darkness" was actually a negation of all things that existed in the physical plane; it was not originally part of physical reality. It had been introduced by the Dark Lord, and the Heart of Atius was the medium through which it was drawn. She'd have avoided Teddy every day since that day in the lab, if not for the fact that she thought she could help him.

But after Teddy had awoken, Ioanna regretted her decision.

She felt Teddy's fingers tighten on her, then clutch the front of her dress. He yanked her close to his face so hard she nearly got whiplash. She tried to pull away, but Teddy's grip was absolute - like that of those deep dwellers languishing in that Hell, pulling at her, threatening to rip her apart. She let out a small cry. Just like those tortured souls had, Teddy clutched at her desperately, eyes piercing her spirit, searching desperately at the ruins of her soul for that tiny glimmer of light hidden within. Being forced to look Teddy in his bloodshot eyes, Ioanna saw instead the eerily glowing eyes of they who were lost and began to panic. The Heart of Atius drummed furiously inside her chest.

What? What is it? What is it? What is it? Tell me. Tell me, tell me!”

Ioanna felt his hot breath on her face. She could feel panicked tears rising in her throat again, but his breath reminded her of where she was. Teddy could actually hurt her. She couldn't show weakness now. Instead of bending, Ioanna took a deep breath and remained in control of her emotions, even as Teddy's hot, furious breath bore down on her.

No one can see you cry.

"Theodore," she said, placing a small, pale hand upon the one that held her, "Please. If you don't let go of your desperation, you can never know." Ioanna shook her head slowly, "You're remembering something from your past," Her voice was even - though her insides were screaming she had outward control, "Let go of it. Only then can you see."

Her big brown eyes, only a little bit moist and resolute in expression, reflected the intense glow of the stadium lights. Her big eyes were two great moons in orbit, guiding beacons in the night. The light her eyes reflected cut through the darkness in the eyes of the man who held her. She placed her other hand on the side of his face, light and placating.

"Death is peace," she said, earnestly, her normally loud, provocative tone giving way to tenderness; like a mother's soft kiss on a child's scraped knee.

Only if Teddy understood her words, and allowed himself that peace, would he be able to hear Vera's heart. How daunting a proposition that was did not escape Ioanna: She was having to council the living in the same way she had done with the dead. The living were far less likely to understand; they're still trapped in their earthly prisons, fleshy walls that stood between them and others. They were submerged in hormonal cocktails that lied to them: I am unique - I am the one - this other is different, dangerous; this one is evil and peace is not an option - all lies fed to them by an organism desperate to prolong its existence and its suffering.

Life is suffering. Death is peace - but how to bring that peace to the suffering of the living? Ioanna grasped at the question as forcefully and as ineptly as Theodore grasped at her dress. She didn't know. Perhaps Teddy really would snap her in half in a moment.
Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 22 2014, 11:22:33 PM.
Posted ImageAll your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down
She's just like you
So why keep doing what you do
Why cut a friend
Posted ImageBut you were my favorite moment
Of our dead century
Posted ImageBut your heart can't grieve
For your little dreams
Oh no your heart can't grieve
Not for your little dreams
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Charles Snow
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Charlie was taken aback by Billie's reaction. He thought maybe she'd be happy to see them or relieved. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly he had done. He was beginning to wonder what Beck saw in her as she seemed more than a little rough around the edges.

Deciding to ignore her, Charlie turned his attention on Quinn, still somewhat embarrased by Billie's retort. "I'm sure you two will be fine now," he spoke, smiling down at her. Quinn seemed nice but wasn't really interested in whatever else Billie might have to say. "I should probably go find my family too, make sure they're okay."

Just then, someone knocked into Charlie, causing a bit of pain in his arm. He became slightly annoyed as he massaged the area with his other hand. He had more tha enough excitement for one day. What he really wanted now as a drink. He began to walk backwards slowly, then shrugged at Quinn. "I guess I'll see you around." As he turned to walk forward, he took out the scarf he had shoved in his pocket earlier. With one last glance, he held it in a fist and he disappeared into the crowd.
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Bradley Bhodhsa
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I am Tyler "TJ" Jekyll

Bradley watched his niece as she wiped away the tears and spoke about feeling what had happened. She knew of Vera’s death, and Bradley felt his gut drop down to his feet as she spoke. He didn’t want another one of his nieces to be in pain, and now here Dolly was with the jagged pieces of Vera stuck inside her. Like a rag doll of some sorts. Bradley let Dolly grab onto his hand, he squeezed it back and nodded.

“Of course, come with me.” Bradley said firmly as he pulled along his niece, through the crowds it was easy to see what was happening. He was taller than the average man; he could see over most of the crowd and could easily see the big door to the VIP box. As he got to the door he checked around him before walking into the room. What he met with was a mess, Precious was with Jax at that moment, sobbing her heart out for the daughter she would probably never see again. At least alive, that was. Theodore was with a strange girl in the corner, there were a few Malfoy men in the room as well.

Bradley looked over to the other side of the room and noticed Dean stood at the side of the room on his own. Bradley instantly walked over there with his hand still connected with Dolly’s. As he got over there he let go of her hand and made sure he was stood protectively over the two Draper children. “Both of you stay near me, alright?” Bradley muttered to them as he turned to face the rest of the room. It was utter chaos.
faciem mutate[
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Billie Baker
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I'm Vi

Both of Billie's eyebrows rose. Despite there not really being a line of fire to speak of, the young Gryffindor was a lot better at protecting herself then either Quinn or Charlie. (Perhaps even the both combined.) It was then that Billie felt a little guilty, if things had gotten dangerous and something had happened to Sparrow because of it... "My bad. Don't chase after me next time, alright?" There wouldn't be a next time, if Vi could help it. What was difficult to comprehend, sometimes, was why anyone would bother following her into potentially dangerous situations. Generally, if she needed help, she was quick to offer instructions.

Charlie jumped in, Billie had basically forgotten he was standing there. "Thinking about joining the crazies? Fantastic." The call after the older Gryffindor might have been lost in the general noise of the crowd. Beck really knew how to pick his friends. "Oh, man. I really won't forgive you if that happens." Vi teased Sparrow, only partially serious, as Charlie went back into the mob of panicked faces. Luckily the three of them had managed to stand in one spot without being trampled, but it would be better not to test their luck as just two. "Let's get out of this mess, yeah?"
Need to believe you could hold me down
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'Cause I'm in need of something good right now
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Rhys Carrow
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Rhys stood behind Scott, it was rapidly becoming a place of honour.

The Carrows had a box of their own, but be damned if Rhys was going to spend his time sifting through the crowds to find it. This would have to do. The hufflepuff elbowed Scott, noticing his friend glancing towards one of the McKelvey twins, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at his ginger comrade. (Who could tell them apart, honestly?) The McKelvey was here, too, and as was customary around figures of authority Rhys found it within himself to behave. At least for the moment. It seemed they would be bunkering down and waiting out the chaos.

"An eternity." Rhys muttered to Scott, rolling his eyes before straightening. As for whether or not it was Daisy Fitzroy, Rhys couldn't say he cared too much. That was a battle between two families that had very little to do with his own. His parents held for more concern than he in regards to such matters.

What were they supposed to do until they were rescued, then? "You should go over, Weasley charm her." Rhys spoke to Scott again, "Offer a bit of comfort."
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Merida Gottlieb
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Merida did not release the boy as Antoine's patronus found her. Her eyebrows knit together in distaste at being commanded from her job and a hand rose up to wipe away the spit. Going back to the tent now was an impossibility and damn him for interrupting. "Your boyfriend's callin', mate." The boy gloated, gleeful. Merida jostled him until pain contorted the expression, her grip tightened around the collar of his robe, drawing him nearer.

"Listen, kid. If we don't find who is behind this the purebloods will," Merida sneered downwards, "And who do you think is going to be more charitable about hearing your half of the story?"

"They can't stop an idea. Purebloods need to be shown they're vulnerable."

Merida felt her frustrations bubble up to a breaking point. She was a pureblood too, but this wasn't about her? It was about them. And what if this actually made some difference against those purebloods that were corrupted? "You're coming with me, regardless."

The aurors didn't stand a chance at apprehending everyone, but perhaps a few would help enlighten the investigation into this. Merida could see some of her fellows attempting to bring balance back to the stadium. They were directing the evacuation, and stilling members of the Vox who continued to chant. Not all members of the rogue organization went down without a fight, though it seemed a greater majority of them were not keen on being arrested.
Even if we can't find Heaven
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I'll walk through Hell with you
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Dean Draper
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the truth is: the game was rigged from the start

As Booker DeWitt predicted, England won the match against America in a staggering difference. As soon as Donatella announced the snitch was in the hands of Violet Wilson, Dean could hear the imaginary jackpot slots as the English half of the stadium erupted in an elated chaos. Dean had smiled warmly to himself, hand rested above his pocket as he envisioned himself leaving the stadium with a fat wad of cash to keep him warm at night. With that money, he would wager on the next match and skim a few off the top for his girlfriend.

Or mistress.

What had happened in the bathroom remained a mystery to Dean, but he was slightly terrified of discovering the truth. Had Jane confronted Allison about their business partnership? Had Allison buckled under the pressure and confessed her sins to Jane? Dean had pushed his lady troubles far from his mind and focused on the match instead. England had won, but the truth was, the game was rigged from the start.

To say that Dean was surprised to see Daisy Fitzroy’s face on the banners was an understatement. He watched, his handsome face pulled into a frown as the cigarette hung between his lips. He had always associated Fitzroy with ‘crazy’, as her preachings were always about fights that no longer existed. But he supposed he wasn’t in a position of authority to speak, as Dean had only known pureblood privilege his entire life. In truth, he thought nothing of Daisy’s words, nothing but a last feeble attempt to draw in members to her dying martyrdom, but then his aunt flung herself at the window in an attempt to shatter the barrier, crying furiously with pain. It was then that Dean realized something was wrong.

As he came to learn by the events that quickly followed, Vera Wickham, his own cousin, his own flesh and blood, was dead. Gone. Forever. Murdered by the red hands of Daisy Fitzroy in an attempt to rouse Precious Lestrange. Well, Fitzroy was successful, and Dean could see the effect of her success in his aunt’s powerful sobs. He had always regarded Precious Lestrange as a cold, apathetic femme fatale, the type to only shed tears at the threshold of her own death. But as sure as night followed day, Precious Lestrange was weeping an ocean of tears, and Dean could only watch.

He stood as a somber shadow, unsure of what to do with himself. The thought failed to register in his brain: His cousin, Vera Wickham, was dead, and by the looks of it, it was because of his classmate, Daisy Fitzroy. Two entirely different worlds, one catalyst, one bomb. He lingered in the aftermath, a survivor seeking shelter. But he felt denial at its strongest. Vera couldn’t be dead. She was too powerful. She was a Wickham, a lioness, the daughter of Precious Lestrange. Vera wasn’t dead. Magna never died.

Magna.

Dean’s mind instantly snapped to his sister. Dolly! Where was Dolly? He had not seen her since the beginning of the match, and the realization suddenly made his stomach seize in fear. His palms grew clammy with sweat. His fingers began to tremble. This was not in Booker DeWitt’s plans. Dean glanced across the remaining faces in the box, his eyes hardened into steel.

Chaos. Theodore was on the ground and people that had not been inside before were walking in with ease. Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably, unsure of how to present himself as the scene continued to unfold. Ariella? Why was Dolly’s ex-bestfriend there? Magna. Second by second, the scene progressed further down the slippery slope: Everyone was screaming at each other and attempting to hold on to each other as if they were the next to die.

”Dean!” Dolores Draper’s voice called him from his hazy thoughts.

His head instantly turned toward her voice, and she bounded forward, tears streaking down her face as she threw her arms around his neck. Dean stiffened at her sudden burst of affection, but then he relaxed. He only ever received hugs from his girlfriend, but a hug from his sister had a calming effect on him. They were born together, and to be so close to her again was a faint reminder of the time they had spent in the womb. Dean tightly wrapped his arms around her and held her.

He nodded at Bradley’s words, but he could not bring himself to speak. His eyes stung with tears and he was afraid that Daisy Fitzroy would come in charging for her next trophy piece. Dolly clamped onto her brother for dear life, and it was then that Dean realized how much he truly appreciated his sister. Because the Draper family may not have been the most functional family in the world, but they loved each other and they would always protect each other. If one of them died, the rest would go with.

As Dean held Dolly, he watched Theodore’s violent movements. He grabbed Ioanna’s dress and Dean felt inclined to rush over and pull the poor girl from his grip. He’s going to kill her. Dean thought, fighting the urge to aid. But Ioanna remained calm, and Dean thought he saw a flicker of understanding in his cousin’s eyes.

”She’s dead, Dean. I felt it, Dean. I’m so scared. I don’t want to die, Dean. I want Sally here. I want mom here. Dean, I don’t want to die. I’m so scared.” Dolly was sobbing into his shoulder, and Dean felt her warm tears through his suit jacket.

”Shh, shh,” Dean whispered, blinking back tears. ”You’re not going to die. You’re going to be okay, Doll. You’re going to be just swell. I’m here with you.” His voice faltered between a steady reassurance and uncertainty. The same could not be said for Sally.

Of Annik Dolohov’s eleven grandchildren, three pairs of twins, one now remained alone, and Dean realized how frighteningly lonely that must feel.

He glanced at Bradley, a sort of favored cousin within the Kross family tree. ”Where did you find her?” He asked promptly.
Posted ImageDean Benjamin Draper, son of Sicily

He does have a heart
it takes to a certain rhythm
and it may be a little cold
but he's got one


House Draper | "Tread lightly here."
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Scott Weasley
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Scott looked around the booth as silence descended on the group. There were whispers from all corners of the booth and all Scott could think about was getting out of there and getting back to his tent. It was madness and he didn’t even know what was happening, the announcement had been something which was strange and almost threatening but no explosions had gone off. No one had been murdered, as far as he knew anyway. Scott sighed; he had no idea what to think in such a situation.

That was when Rhys spoke up. Scott and Rhys had been friends for a few years now and Scott was one of the only people who could actually stand being around the Carrow. Maybe it was because he laughed at Rhys whenever he said something stupid or got a slap, or maybe he was just meant to be friends with someone who was a bit of an asshole. Scott raised his eyebrow at Rhys as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively; his eyes darted back towards where Morgan was. Scott shook his head.

But Rhys seemed to be persistent in that matter. “I don’t think now is a time to charm someone.” Scott muttered. “Besides, she is kind of attached to her dad’s hip.” Scott obviously pointed out. He didn’t fancy making a crack at someone when there was a father and an older brother in the room, especially when both of them could probably wipe him off the face of the earth. Now if Amelia was here he would have some protection, kind of.

“And no, that isn’t a secret signal for you to go over there and start chatting up Charlotte.” Scott hissed, knowing that Rhys would probably take whatever Scott said and use it to make some sort of over the top action which would get him a slap.

Posted Image
Scott Weasley
.Son of Bill Weasley
..Gryffindor Keeper
...Fifth Weasley Grandchild
Posted Image

i'm the narrator, and this is just the prologue
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Dave McKelvey Jr.
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We're fragile. Wish I'd have known.

"Yeah, what was that all about?" Dave asked loudly, referring to Daisy's appearance on the screens around the stadium. He'd heard whispers of the 'Vox', or whatever they were called, around the school, but generally thought nothing of it. Dave could only wonder what reason they could have for showing up at the World Cup.

"Can't you just fly us out of here, Dad?" Dave asked his father with a coy grin. Dave Sr. did not respond right away, but turned around and offered his son a similar smile.

"I guess I could, but even magical folk aren't used to seeing people fly around without brooms. It might cause a panic or something, and I doubt the aurors would appreciate that," Dave Sr. answered.

"But you do it all the time at school!" Dave complained.

"Sure, but it's not necessarily part of the defense curriculum," Dave Sr. joked.

Dave rolled his eyes in response. "Then I guess we wait," he declared with fake annoyance. He didn't really mind waiting around, but at the same time he wanted to celebrate England's victory like everyone else. Dave slumped into his chair in defeat, but turned to Pandora and poked her in the ribs.

"You alright?" Dave asked in a low voice.
Dave McKelvey Jr. - Dave McKelvey - Charlotte McKelvey - Morgan McKelvey
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Bradley Bhodhsa
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I am Tyler "TJ" Jekyll

Bradley didn’t like to see his favourite niece and nephew so upset, but it was beyond his control. There was nothing he could do to fix this, he couldn’t even find out what happened to Vera. Was it an accident or was it murder? Bradley wondered who else in the room knew what was happening, he was glad that he hadn’t stuck around as Michael. It would make the situation ten times as bad, he would have to somehow sneak out and change and come back in. He looked down to Dean and Dolly, unsure of whether to offer them a tissue or a hot drink or what.

“She was at the edge of a crowd, the place was going mental.” Bradley revealed looking out of the box and down to the stands. They were filing out now. He turned back to Dean and nodded his head. “Is there anyone else missing? I can find them.” Bradley didn’t want there to be any more casualties.
faciem mutate[
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Emma Gray
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I SEE A BAD MOON RISING

Sirius Black had disappeared into the massive crowds exiting after England's wild win, determined to find her father. The Vox freaked her out, even if Amelia breezily laughed them off with a curse or four. Dad. Where's Dad? He'll be with Aurors. Aurors meant safety, didn't they? Maybe that's what Sirius thought in a fog of strangled nerves. The Aurors will shut everyone up.

Anxiety propelled Sirus forward, her goodbyes to her friends caught in her throat as she pushed past celebrating bodies. She narrowed her eyes, sniffing the air as if that would lead her to where Orion Black could be. The Vox's wild chants, deep with bass and growling with passion, continued to ring in her ears like echoes. They quickened Siri's pace. Her feet were the only things working faster than her heart.

Meanwhile, a Bridal Shower was raging full force across the residential fields. Sirius Black had heard about the pompous waste of time and energy from her father, and though she vowed to avoid it, that seemed the only place he could be. Following her sharp instinct, she stomped to the bar. As she expected, she found her father with a complacent smile etched into his face and whiskey winking from a glass in his vice-like grip. At his side, a certain former Headmistress stared at Sirius curiously, wondering what panic could have sent the girl here so abruptly.

It wasn't as if Emma hadn't heard the Vox cheering. But was it that bad? They were just little reckless kids. Vera must've died... somehow... else...

Emma swallowed, hard. Perhaps she just couldn't have visualized it without Sirius' sweaty face standing there, grimacing.

Sirius and her father left the Bridal Shower together, Emma knew where she needed to go next. She needed to go back. It was where she should have been all along, really, and she needed to find Dave. That was the only thing that she knew for certain.

Emma Gray was stealthily moving past the buzzing crowd. Her daughters, Carmen and Poppy, along with their friend, Imogen Nott, trailed behind. Emma squinted up at the emptying stands, the cheers of the English occasionally breaking her from her concentration. Their roars had replaced the Vox chatter, red blue and white flags rippling off their adorned backs, like massive capes. Painted cheeks twisted into clown smiles as Emma passed them by.

There was another time... another year... a young Ravenclaw girl followed her boyfriend through chaos. She saw blood pooling beneath burst eyes, crying crimson onto collared shirts. She saw scraped knees, and tasted her own blood in her mouth for the first time, but not the last. Maybe a woman was born that day, kneeling in the dirt, knowing there was a bounty above her head. Another time, another year, the same screaming... crowds...

The pillars blocking the exits of the stadium suddenly slammed back to the ground below. It was perfectly replaced, the ground balanced and level. Azariah hovered over the pillar in the center of the stadium once more, looking down on the mobs as they started to shift out the door.

"It appears that we have reached the Edge, that zenith where stimuli and comatose collide. 40 years ago, The Man proclaimed The Age of the Gross to be upon us, and even though The Man was destroying our heritage and insulting our intelligence, THAT ERA HAS BECOME VERY REAL. We labor for pleasure and abhor the guilt of pressure. My Generation will go down as the Architects of Contemporary Disgust. Some have fought and died, others have allowed the Strong to be butchered for a price they themselves don't care about and will never understand. I myself am beleaguered by the selfish face of A Kind of Man that is NOT MANKIND.

"Distrust in information - Fundamentalism of Opinion - Catastrophic Boredom, and a Fanatical Devotion to that which DOES NOT MATTER.

"Where is your Glory now, people? Where are your Gods and politicians? Where is your Shame and Salvation? You Rage for no reason because you have no Reason. What have you ever FOUGHT for? What have you ever BLED for? The Face of the Earth is scarred with the Walking Dead. The Age of the Gross is a Living Virus. This is the future you have created. This is the world you have set ablaze. ALL YOUR LIES ARE COMING TRUE. ALL FREEDOM IS LOST. ALL HOPE IS GONE. "

The pillar in the center of the stadium crashed to the earth and Azariah disappeared again to somewhere in the stadium...


Emma winced as shoulders brushed against hers. Memories of times when things were painfully falling apart continued to pierce like bullets, but somehow, Emma's feet led her up the stairs of the enormous stadium, quickly, to the McKelvey and Weasley VIP box, whose inhabitants were sitting quietly, waiting for the calm after the storm.

She shoved the door open and realized just how quickly she was breathing. She clutched her chest, stepped forward and sank into a nearby chair. "Dave," she choked out.

"Mom!" Carmen's eyes widened. Poppy stepped back, her wide eyes full of fear. "Are you okay?"

It's happening again. History is repeating itself.

Emma shook her head. "Fine. Fine."
Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More
And I'm
not
forgiving

I'm such
a fool to
pay this
price

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Herbology Professor | Plant Elementium
Former Deputy Head | Mother | #firstgen
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Atticus Malfoy
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intelligent, strong, cunning

“Attention witches and wizards. Please vacate the stadium as quickly and as orderly as possible. We will have aurors on hand to help with locating lost family members or friends.”

Atticus spoke into the microphone, his voice echoed throughout the stadium.

“Attention, please vacate the stalls and VIP boxes.”

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Emma Gray
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I SEE A BAD MOON RISING

How long had Emma sat there, laying in the dirt, Hellius at her side? He was her hero, his pale face sewn with amber and gold in the summer heat's glowing sunset; Azariah's voice had rocked the earth, shattering a loudness Emma thought even possible. In her lap, she watched as her hands trembled terribly against their will; she shushed her trembling heart, begging herself to get ahold of her sky-rocketing emotions. It had been so long since she had a vivid flashback, but even now, she could smell the burning, iron-y scent that remained on her clothes – and maybe even her skin – for ages. Her shoulders lumped forward, pained, but Emma was jarred from the silence of her mind.

Real life had a way of rearing its ugly head often. Emma stood, hardly able to glance at her daughters as she cleared her throat. “Should we... go?” Her voice shook slightly, and she cleared her throat, forcing strength into her spine. She stood a little taller, smiled a little firmer. “I, uh, have news. It's not... pretty,”

“Someone died,” said Poppy promptly, as if proud that she knew something the others didn't. Instantly, Carmen surged forward and clamped her hand over Poppy's mouth, her eyes wide.

“No, no, no,” urged Carmen. “Some things you don't say out loud, Poppy, and that's one of them.” Carmen's pleading eyes looked up into Dave Sr.'s face; she looked frightened for a moment, as if she was worried that the world would be shoved from its axis once everyone knew the truth about Vera Wickham. It was only a matter of time.

“Someone... died,” said Emma resignedly. She glanced towards the door. “Come on. It's going to be a long night.”
Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More
And I'm
not
forgiving

I'm such
a fool to
pay this
price

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Herbology Professor | Plant Elementium
Former Deputy Head | Mother | #firstgen
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Jessica Weasley
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Charms Professor

Jessica dashed into the VIP box; she pushed her hand into her hair and let out a long sigh. It had taken forever for her to get back to the box. She looked up at everyone in there and was glad that they hadn’t left yet. Jessica had spoken to a few men from the ministry before she went back up to the booth. “It’s bloody bonkers out there.” Jessica said crossing her arms and leaning against the now closed door.

“People were going arse over tits out there!” Jessica shook her head and turned to look outside of the box. She turned back around and suddenly saw Emma in the box. She grinned at her. “Hey, didn’t see you there for a moment.” Jessica tried to laugh. “I’m knackered. Should we head off then?” Jessica asked stepping away from the door. She glanced around the room and did a quick head count. How had they gone up in numbers since she was last here?
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earth elementum
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Don Draper
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Mad Man

”Vox! Vox! Vox! Vox! Vox! Vox!”

Don rushed through the veins of the stadium, breath ragged as he breathed through tar and smoke, a sense of urgency on his tongue as he carelessly threw open the uninviting doors of the spectators boxes in search of the room that perfectly matched Ariella Carmichael’s description. The other aurors took their time, making sure to comb over every crumb and stain for a trace of Vera Wickham, but Don was urgent. He was an unstoppable force.

He owed it to Precious Lestrange. She had raised his daughter when he could not. She may not have been the most enjoyable sister-in-law, but damn it, she had kept her promise and Don would never forget her favor. Because of her, Dolores managed to be brought up in a comforted lifestyle. Because of her, Dolores had a mother when Lily was six feet beneath the dirt. Don owed it to Precious Lestrange because she was blood.

As Don flew from room-to-room, a chilling thought occurred to him that Dolly could have easily been taken as well. Why Vera? Don knew she wasn’t saintly. He wasn’t going to paint her in a light picture: She was a murderess, the ghost of her own mother. Don could sense straight away in that night in the Forbidden Forest that Belladonna Thornton’s death wasn’t an accident - Vera must have pushed the girl onto a dinner plate and ran away as the howling wolves picked at Thornton’s bones. But at the same time, Vera was family. Dolly’s sister. Theodore’s twin. More importantly, she was someone, a life, someone with hopes and dreams and aspirations, fears, doubts, and promises. She was too young.

A part of Don relished in the relief that his daughter, Sally, was safe with his wife, Camilla. They were tucked safely in the Draper tent waiting patiently for the Germany match, but Don got the distinct feeling that the grim news would drain their eagerness. He hoped they would understand. More importantly, he hoped he would find Vera Wickham’s supposed body before the press did.

Everything had happened so fast, Don hardly had time to process the turn of events. He remembered quietly enjoying a drink with Andromeda Black. When England’s victory was announced, he excused himself to go outside for a cigarette - and then chaos. He had remained behind to witness Daisy Fitzroy’s message, long enough to know that it was pointed directly at Precious Lestrange. Don was able to piece the scene together from there.

Coughing, he kicked down the door to the empty spectator’s box, immediately blinded by crimson. Don stopped cold, his breath echoing through the silence as he drank in the scene: Red, red, red as blood, with lies and slander written across. Don’s stomach churned with unease; was this where it had happened? Was this where Daisy Fiztroy had sat Vera Wickham on her knees, executioner style, and recited her final words before taking her life? Cold spiders of fear trickled down his spine. He had seen death before, but to witness it again was just as painful as the first.

A faint whimper drew his attention. His eyes darted to the back of a young brunette on her knees, and before her was a solid lump that laid covered in a red flag. Don’s throat dried with denial. Could that be her? Carefully, he stepped forward as if he were afraid to wake the dead. ”Vera?” He tried. He did not believe she was gone forever.

Elizabeth’s sorrowful eyes looked up pleadingly to him, her face half-hidden by the shadows projected by the drawn curtains. Her breathing trembled with every inhale, her ribcage so delicate she was afraid it would shatter. ”No,” Elizabeth sniffled, wiping her cheeks with her palm. ”We’re too late. The deed is done. Everyone played their part.”

Don stared at the lump. He wanted to pull the flag back and see for himself. And more importantly, Don realized how disgusted he was at Fitzroy to vandalize Vera’s body with her flag. He knew this in his heart, so true that it sealed his veins into ice, that Daisy Fitzroy was as good as dead. Her hours were limited and the thought threw Don into despair. Why the unnecessary bloodshed?

”We can’t leave her here,” he said softly. The dryness in his throat made him crave a drink - a strong one, and desperately. Elizabeth bowed her head again. ”I - I… I have to get her out of here before the other aurors find her. If they do, this entire thing will be blown out of proportion by the media.” Don glanced warily at the closed door behind him. ”I need to… Move her. Somewhere away from here.”

”You do what you think is best,” Elizabeth laid her hand on the body, heart hammering in her chest. ”I know Precious personally…. We had a…. Business relationship a couple years back before she was arrested. I never interacted with Vera personally, but I knew Theodore, and I know he’s crushed.”

”Yeah,” Don agreed. ”Everyone is torn right now.”

Slowly, Elizabeth trained her doe eyes up at the stranger with a glimmer of hope in her irises. ”Take her there. I’ll send a patronus to Precious. Go before the aurors come.”

On demand, Don stepped forward and lowered himself beside Elizabeth. Carefully, he scooped his arms underneath the body, a small part of him afraid that she might fidget at the sudden movement. And frighteningly, her body felt stiff, cold and rigid as if he were holding an object and not the body of his niece. Don inhaled sharply to hide his sorrow. He hoped he would never have to hold any child - his or someone else’s - like this again.

He glanced down at Elizabeth, his face pulled into a sort of melancholy frown that only death could rouse. ”Thank you,” he said softly, ”for trusting me.”

And then Mr. Draper disappeared in a faint pop.
Posted ImageDonald Richard Draper Auror House Draper "Tread lightly here."





"Kids today have no one to look up to, because they're looking up to us."
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Elizabeth Slate
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THE LAMB

A glowing, shimmering mockingbird flitted into the DeWitt Suite, its wings leaving wisps of light in the air. She fluttered over the heads of the mourning and landed gracefully on the shoulder of Mr. Lestrange. Discreetly, she turned her head left and right, twitching with terse, bird-like movements before whispering in a sing-song tune:

”The girl has been moved to the nest by someone you trust. Meet us there.”
Posted Imageconstants
ELIZABETH ROSALIND SLATE
&variables

26. Private Investigator. Squib.


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Theodore Wickham
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IMPERATOR

Theodore struggled between smashing Ioanna to a pulp and pulling her in for an embrace. He felt an ultraviolet spectrum of emotions: Sorrow, anger, denial, desperation. The negative energy that he emitted was clouding his brain; he refused to believe this. Why was Ioanna willing to help him when they had nothing in common? How could he trust her, when his own sister was murdered at the hands of someone he had once regarded as his leader? Would Ioanna betray him as swiftly as Daisy’s shift of alliance?

His grip on Ioanna’s dress loosened. The sounds of everyone else in the room were drowned out by her promises, and he realized he could only see her in his cloudy vision. Oliver and Jane became a blur of blonde in the background. He heard sobs, hushed voices, but the beating of his own heart was louder. Vera’s sudden death had ripped his soul and he was desperately leeching off of the Heart to heal himself.

”Please tell me,” he tried again, breathless, tears at the corners of his eyes. ”Please tell me. I can’t bear it anymore. I can’t bear not knowing.”
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T.J.W

there's something about you, it's hard to explain...
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Ioanna MacGowan
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Cold

Ioanna ignored the sound of the announcer asking them to vacate the stadium. She took a deep breath as Theodore's grip on her loosened. If ever Theodore was ready to hear this, without destroying Ioanna for it, that time was now.

"In the end, Vera freed herself willingly," she said, "She came to understand she had been bound by the strings her mother forced her to dance on. She saw what had happened to you, and feared your fate for herself. Vera and Teddy are two sides of the same coin, and that will never change, even in death."

She looked from Theodore to Victor, whom she hadn't been purposefully ignoring. She merely wanted to see to the near-comatose Theodore first.

"Victor," she said, "Vera loved you, always. She missed you, and your mother, too. She would have done anything for you if not for the fear in her heart - and her mother was the source of that fear, most certainly."

Ioanna was treading dangerous water, and she knew it. The distraught woman about whom Ioanna was speaking was in this spectator's box. Ioanna did not address Precious directly, be it out of fear or respect for her grief. Perhaps she merely knew that it wasn't her place. Vera needed Teddy to know what had been on her heart. He deserved to know. Ioanna knew that Vera would like for her other half not to experience the same fate.

"Vera lived and died by your mother's whims," said Ioanna, now again addressing Teddy, "Fitzroy was striking at her through Vera. But she is calm now. She wanted her father to know, too, that she wished things could have been better. Vera was the angel her mother destroyed - but now that she has that clarity of vision, she has found peace. That peace came from taking the pain, experiencing it fully, but in understanding that pain she suffered no longer. The words I say to you now, she had called her 'atonement'. She wants you to live, Theodore. She wants you to live."
Edited by Ioanna MacGowan, Dec 24 2014, 03:50:11 AM.
Posted ImageAll your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down
She's just like you
So why keep doing what you do
Why cut a friend
Posted ImageBut you were my favorite moment
Of our dead century
Posted ImageBut your heart can't grieve
For your little dreams
Oh no your heart can't grieve
Not for your little dreams
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Victor Malfoy
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how many secrets can you keep?

The scene in front of him had taken a dramatic turn when Theodore woke from his grief induced coma, it ended with his former friends fingers being curled around the small girls’ clothing. Ioanna was the hooded shadow of death, coming to the so the process of grief could begin. Victor couldn’t ignore what was happening in front of him, he couldn’t turn and walk away and forget that this happened. It wasn’t the first time death had graced his life, the young Hufflepuff girl had died during the tournament. He couldn’t remember Vera’s words on the subject, but he knew she wasn’t impressed that a touch of grief pressed into his yellow robes. But this time it was close to home, so close he could taste the copper in his mouth. This wasn’t a stain of yellow with two hallow eyes glaring out, it was a blotch of red ink continually moving and weaving itself through whatever surface it touched. And it stained.

His voice being called was a surprise, Victor stepped back slightly as the girl spoke to him. Her words pierced his ears; it was as though a knife was being dragged through his stomach causing it to fall deeper and deeper. His heart thudded in his ears. Victor’s eyes darted to where Precious was, he watched her for a brief moment before turning his body back to Ioanna. She loved him? Victor’s eyes darted around the room, his breath hitched in his throat before bursting out of his mouth.

It didn’t click who could have done this, it never did. Even if others had said it beforehand the words just didn’t sink in. Not until they left the lips of Ioanna. Fitzroy.

The pent up anger burst out of his body as Victor turned himself and pushed his fingers into his hair. He squeezed the stands and clutched his head to stop the violence from getting out, but it was no use. Victor pulled his hands down from his head and let out an angry grunt as he smashed his fist onto the sending a few glasses flying from the table. They smashed onto the floor, one split under his hand. Victor turned back around to face the others as he felt a hand press onto his shoulders, they squeezed. He looked up at his father who was now standing just behind Victor. He slowly pushed his son closer to Theodore. Victor looked down to his cut up hand. But the pain of losing Vera was much greater.

“She had no right.” Victor muttered to himself, but nothing would escape his lips past those words. He looked to Theodore.
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Quinn Paterson
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i've become so tired, so much more aware

Quinn wanted to yell after Charlie, she wanted to stop him from walking away but before she could even open her mouth he was gone. Quinn suspected it was because of what Billie had said, but she decided to ignore that. There was no point arguing at a time like this, and Quinn didn’t feel that she had the courage to say anything at all. So she pressed her lips together and turned to her friend, she didn’t even have the energy to narrow her eyes. She listened to Billie before shaking her head.

“I can’t leave you on your own.” Quinn said, her voice trailing off as she turned to look at the swarming crowd around them. There were less and less people around, she could actually see gaps in the crowds now. Quinn turned to where Charlie previously was, she cared about her friend’s opinion but she didn’t agree with what she said. “He is nice.” Quinn muttered, not wanting to start an actual conversation on the matter. She cleared her throat and turned back to Billie.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Quinn said turning and walking through the crowd with Billie heading for the exit.
Posted Image they call me cry baby,
Quinn Patterson
Don’t be scared. Don’t let them see.


Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

cry baby, cause i laugh through my tears
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