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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: |
| Sweden vs Ireland; Year 4 - Day 16 - QWC - Day 4 - 12pm | |||
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| Topic Started: Jan 17 2015, 01:49:26 PM (2,065 Views) | |||
| Antoine Belrose | Jan 22 2015, 10:03:46 PM Post #41 | ||
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"That- was truly terrible. Please don't ever do that again." Antoine nodded towards the couple sitting beside them. "These poor people probably are from there. You've disgraced them" Of course Antoine was joking... well kinda. As long as Carmen was having fun, who was he to ruin it? After seeing her grow agitated from Tom, Antoine felt bad for her. There was obviously something going on there, but Antoine had no clue what it could be. Tom had been snooty, and thought he was better then others, but Carmen dealt with people like that all the time, so it couldn't have been that. All the sudden noise startled Antoine. Listening to those around him, he could assume that they had sat down in the Irish section of the stands. They were yelling like hooligans, and dancing, or doing a wave, or something. Antoine could feel their feet move through the floorboards. It was like a stampede of animals. The vibrations through the floor were more unsettling then the actual noise of the fans. "You're too reserved to be from Ireland." Antoine had yet to meet a quiet Irishman. They were all loud, and rowdy. Which was fine and dandy, in the right time and place, but that wasn't every time. "Besides, you're French. We're known for being snobs, and loosing. What better country is there?" Antoine was still sore over the fact that France had lost already. |
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I just wanna say, I remember conversations, before I gave up on me and if it's any consulation I remember everything And you can't take that, no you can't take that away . You were the one who saved me, and you can't take that away. | |||
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| Carmen Gray-Winters | Jan 23 2015, 06:00:08 PM Post #42 | ||
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and I will take what is mine
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Carmen laughed, intuiting that Antoine was maybe only half-kidding. The fact that he was likely mortified by Carmen's excitement made her laugh even more; they were so French. Carmen's eyes widened, of course, when Gwen and Imogen scrambled up precariously to snatch the open seats beside her and Antoine. “Oh, right! I'm supposed to be supporting Sweden, too! Damn it.” In her lap, Carmen sadly began brushing green glitter from her. “I totally forgot.” Just then, something began to ripple in the sky, glaring against the hot summer sun. Carmen winced as she looked towards the sky; with a gasp, she realized that a flag was beginning to materialize seemingly from nowhere. A flag of deep blue began to unfurl gradually, as if a chunk of sky had lowered itself to flutter above the pitch. With a deafening roar, the crowds began to chant wildly. Once Carmen recognized their chant, her heart truly leaped up in her throat and she began to scream with them, clapping her hands excitedly (although out of time). “DEWITT! DEWITT! DEWITT!” Carmen squealed, her finger pointed towards the banner, still rippling. The Swedish Quidditch team zipped forward and, behind them, streaks of yellow were left in their wake as if the tail ends of their broomsticks were painting across the sky. Quickly, the team collected themselves into a formation; some of the players zoomed forward, creating a horizontal strip across the flag of blue. Others surged upwards until, together, the team had created the Swedish flag that was now dancing overhead. “There he is!” yelled Carmen, and she pointed upwards as Alexander DeWitt began to lead the Swedish team around the stadium in laps. Carmen tried to remain composed at the risk of looking like a wild fangirl, but she was screeching with pride. “Do you think he's nervous? Oh, my God. This is so cool. We know him, Antoine! We know him!” Carmen knew that Antoine was probably about two seconds from facepalming, so she settled in her seat and clapped her hands over her mouth. Her wide eyes watched as the Swedish team continued to zip around, and a fierce, fast-paced song began to play loudly through the stadium, over the sounds of cheers. Sweden's style was decidedly less about dazzling the crowd and more about portraying themselves as fierce; as the anthem ended, each of the players boasted the same stoic facial expressions. From their seats, video footage was being streamed on large banners around the stadium, as it had been doing during the Triwizard Tournament. Whatever camera was shooting footage focused decidedly on Alexander's face, which was completely focused. It panned to each team member: they looked ready for blood. “And Sweden, not playing a child's game anymore!” Eddie boasted. “Amazing! Let the games begin, am I right, Donatella?” Donatella's response was, once again, drowned out by the crowds as Ireland entered the stadium again. The two teams hovered on opposite ends of the Pitch as the referee, clad in a black and white uniform, began to make her way to each end as well. The tension was palpable; Carmen felt her heart racing in her chest. “Maybe I'll be a professional Quidditch player one day,” joked Carmen, laughing nervously. The Quidditch referee began the long tread out to the center of the field. Carmen watched as the referee held a Quaffle with utmost care, balancing it in her hands while a silver whistle glinted around her neck. The crowds stomped their feet and cheered so loudly Carmen was sure Antoine would leave the match not only legally blind, but deaf, too. The captains for Sweden and Ireland hovered away from each other until the referee seemed to hit the center of the field; then, they drifted downwards, each spiraling as if competing for attention. The coaches followed their captains to the center of the stadium, where the screens highlighted their stony, concentrated faces. The referee pointed her wand to her throat as they all joined in the center. When she spoke, her voice reverberated through the entire stadium, even shouting over the crowds. “As referee for this game, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to Ireland versus Sweden of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup. Captains and Coaches, please shake hands.” The crowd taunted as handshakes were brutally exchanged. Carmen could only imagine how each was determined to break the others bones. Everyone watched as, slowly, the Captains took to the air again, away from their teams, who had moved into formations. “Let the match... begin!” The Quaffle jumped into the air and spiraled lazily. Somewhere, a Snitch disappeared, nothing more than an inescapable ray of sunshine in the vast stadium. All at once, as if they were pool balls dancing around velvet, the women and men on broomsticks began to shatter the air, and total chaos erupted. |
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| Melissa Levander | Jan 23 2015, 07:32:59 PM Post #43 | ||
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It was Melissa’s obligation to boo as the Irish team flew out onto the pitch and did their little display. Melissa glanced at the family next to her, the brat’s family had turned up and they all seemed so close together. Melissa scowled and turned her head away. Although two boos seemed to jump out of the crowd as Melissa saw her twin brothers, Hugo and Elias, approach her with food in their hands. “Alright sis! What have we missed?!” Hugo yelled over the crowd with a grin, Elias shoved some popcorn into his mouth and shoved himself next to Melissa. Hugo stood next to his brother and looked out to the crowd. “Alright it’s time for Sweden to shine!” Elias yelled with a mouth full of food. Melissa rolled her eyes and leant over the bannister. Of course the Swedish presentation would be far better than the Irish one. Melissa cheered with the crowd, although it wasn’t as enthusiastically as most. “I can’t believe Alexander went to our school.” Hugo said with a smug grin. “Aren’t you friends with his sister Mel?” Elias asked with a smirk. Melissa clipped him around the ear with her hand without a second thought. “Kalla mig Mel igen och jag kommer att bryta ditt ansikte liten pojke.” Melissa hissed at her brother, Hugo however began to snicker. The twins exchanged glares before they went back to cheering. Melissa turned to Belle and smirked. “Let the games begin.” |
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| Donatella Vercetti | Jan 23 2015, 07:36:55 PM Post #44 | ||
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The Countess
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Donatella stared into the roaring crowds of blue and green, feeling much like a ghost of herself. She fixed her stare on Alexander DeWitt's fleeing back, a nostalgic wave of memories sweeping her under a carpet of mercy. Speechless, she watched the match unfold, her partner Eddie Carrow attempting to rouse the audience with his playful banter. Simply put, Donatella did not feel as herself, as an enigmatic and bubbly personality. Strange things have happened here, no stranger would they be... She felt the compelling sensation that her movements were being watched. Every breath, blink, heartbeat was clocked into someone's journal, waiting to be totaled for the day's efforts. More importantly, Donatella was choked by fear. The universe had snatched her from her spiritual evolution and regressed her back to the dismal, dreary cycle of the Triwizard Tournament. It was the same thing all over again. The deaths, the burning pitch.... The lies and the deception. Donatella's smile faded with each realization. Constants and variables, right? She glanced reassuringly at the door of the commentator's box where seven aurors stood shoulder-to-shoulder, an impenetrable wall of burly flesh. What good would they do? Where would their use be when the microphones were hijacked by a radical movement? Like Donatella, they were helpless. Still frighteningly disturbed by the events of the America versus England match, Donatella agreed to co-host the match on one condition: That any and all suspicious activities would quickly be extinguished. No red bandannas. No pamphlets. Absolutely no gatherings of groups larger than five. "Sweden makes a strong start by guiding the quaffle to Ireland's goal posts!" Eddie tried, clearly distracted by Donatella's lack of enthusiasm. Donatella attempted a grin. "I'm quite excited to see where this heads, Eddie," she said flatly. "DeWitt and I are old friends. The future is bright." |
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| Sasha DeWitt | Jan 23 2015, 07:57:22 PM Post #45 | ||
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WARRIOR GODDESS
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Sasha, a rabid animal clad in the skin of blue and yellow, howled furiously as the broomsticks ripped through the air, so close to her face that her dark hair fluttered wildly in their wake. "UBOYA IKHHHHHHHHHHH!" Sasha roared in her native tongue, which ironically was Russian rather than Swedish. She was surrounded by a few friends from her old school, Durmstrang, and found comfort in their homely embrace. Harriet Zvensson waved Sweden's flag proudly, screaming until her throat burned hoarsely. Harriet seemed to be the only one to understand Sasha's passion, as she had had a crush on Alexander DeWitt since her first year of Durmstrang, as many of Sasha's friends often did. "DEWITT! DEWITT! DEWITT! DEWITT!" Harriet lead their section into an energy-fueled chant that snowballed to half of the stadium. Sasha bared her teeth, excitement tingling her veins, her fingertips tightly clutching a jersey with her brother's numbers stitched into the back. In a moment of uniformity, nothing else seemed to matter, and Sasha was content with pushing the negative to the back of her mind. In that moment, Vera's death had no meaning. The Vox Populi was nonexistent. Sasha was present to cheer her brother in the biggest match of his life. It felt heavenly to forget everything for a bit, a sort of blinding bliss. "TEAAAAAM CHERNO ALPHA!" Sasha roared until she was breathless. Her bones quivered with fury, and her heart slammed into her chest, but damn it, she felt alive. The Durmstrang girls surrounding her erupted in giggles as they shared their mutual understanding of the inside joke. Just like the glory days. Exchanging high-fives and laughter, popcorn flying in the air, they began their own chant behind the DeWitt hymn: "TEAM CHERNO ALPHA! TEAM CHERNO ALPHA! TEAM CHERNO ALPHA!" Instinctively, Sasha's eyes began to search the stadium for Merida Gottlieb, which Sasha knew would be impossible to single out. Would the rest of the tributes be present to support their fellow tribute? "FUCK 'EM UPPP ALEX!" |
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House DeWitt | "Ours is the fury." | Slytherin Team Captain
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| Antoine Belrose | Jan 24 2015, 02:36:24 AM Post #46 | ||
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Antoine shook his head over Carmen's squeals. He was still touchy about Alex. Seeing Carmen act as she was only reinforced his worry. He was right in still seeing Alex as competition. Granted a very different type of competition. But it kept him from cheering Sweden on as Carmen was. Antoine clapped respectfully for his former competitor. He listened as the crowd cheered. The referee talked about how old the world cup was, and how sportsmanship was important. Antoine rolled his eyes, but listened. There was cheers as Sweden did work. Antoine could appreciate the work that was being done on the field. He'd been a beater when he played. It was one of the reasons he still enjoyed games. Antoine sighed and leaned forward as the anticipation for the game continued on. |
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I just wanna say, I remember conversations, before I gave up on me and if it's any consulation I remember everything And you can't take that, no you can't take that away . You were the one who saved me, and you can't take that away. | |||
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| Carmen Gray-Winters | Jan 24 2015, 07:01:55 PM Post #47 | ||
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and I will take what is mine
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“Doesn't seeing Donatella bring you back to some sort of... memory?” Carmen said, elbowing Antoine. She leaned in close so that he could hear her over the wild crowds. “Almost like seeing the banners on Alex. It's weird – last time we were all together, things were way different.” Carmen didn't like to think about it much; the memories were exhausting, and though Carmen swelled with pride, she couldn't help but detect something particularly off in Dontella's usually vibrant voice that Carmen had grown to recognize so readily. “And oooooh! A Bludger from Ireland! Davin's got those killer biceps, doesn't she?” yelled Eddie, spectacularly compensating for Donatella. “But Swedish Chaser Olsen keeps control of her broom,” replied Donatella, forcing a smile. “And it looks like she's speeding towards the goal posts!” Indeed, Abigail Olsen – Swedish Chaser – was spinning through the sky, her determined glare merciless. There was a fire in her eyes as the camera focused on her and then panned back; Bludgers soared and Alex DeWitt's temples throbbed under the pressure. Carmen held her breath as another Bludger, aimed by Ireland, zipped right beneath Olsen's broom. “Narrow miss!” barked Eddie. “How long can Olsen keep up this momentum?!” Not for long, it seemed. Irish Chasers had caught up to her and now formed a precarious formation around her – one tailed her from behind, and two zoomed on either side of her. Olsen remained focused forward until the Irish players sped up just a little faster, completely cutting her off. Spinning out of control, Olsen held onto her broom firmly and the Quaffle slipped from her fingers; she screamed in anger as the ball fell, and the Irish Chaser behind her scooped it from the air. “AND IRELAND HAS THE QUAFFLE!” The crowds roared, and Carmen thought she could hear something familiar, distantly. Carmen stood up and glanced up, towards some of the best seats in the entire Pitch. Sasha DeWitt was screaming like a wild animal, ravenous. Carmen laughed to herself and sat back down, joining in with their cheer. “TEAAAAAM CHERNO ALPHA!" Ireland raced towards the goal posts, aiming the Quaffle haphazardly. The Swedish Keeper caught it, smirked knowingly, and tossed it back to Sweden as the crowd groaned and squealed deafeningly. “This might take longer than I thought,” said Carmen, clapping her hands. |
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| Imogen Nott | Jan 24 2015, 07:21:54 PM Post #48 | ||
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Imogen had glanced to where Carmen stood a few times during the opening, and then when the match started Imogen wondered whether she should bother keeping focus on the situation. Her eyes followed around some players who didn’t seem to be doing too much, her body flinched as the commentator screamed. Sweden had stopped a goal from being scored, there was no telling what would happen next. Imogen pushed a hand into her hair and realised that she wasn’t all that interested in either team. Of course Alexander was good to look at, but he had so many fans and he wasn’t even a friend of hers. He was friends with Carmen. Imogen sighed and pushed herself back from the stands. Gwen turned to look at her. “And where are you going?” Gwen quickly asked, shooting the words out like a bullet. Imogen almost laughed. “I might go look around, see who else is about.” Imogen didn’t know whether she could stand just watching the match. Part of her wanted to get higher so she could look at the crowds and marvel what was happening in front of her. Or maybe she wanted to learn more about both of the cultures… Imogen shrugged. |
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| Ben Grayson | Jan 24 2015, 07:28:00 PM Post #49 | ||
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what wisdom can you find greater than kindness?
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Ireland wasted no time. They barreled forward, power hungry and fuming. The Chasers twisted around each other, creating a beautiful distraction as well a defensive technique – Bludgers that soared between them were dodged with clumsy grace, and the Irish players roared at the sky, occasionally pumping their fists into the air. Above all else, they were performers. Just before flashing the camera a dazzling smile, Irish chaser Maxwell Stenberg leaned back, tossed the Quaffle forward, and then spun. The tail end of his broomstick smacked the side of the Quaffle and it zipped right by the Swedish Keeper's extended fingertips; the crowds squealed, and Maxwell laughed just before he began his climb back to the other side of the stadium. “Excellent,” Donatella mused. “Really spectacular play.” “ANNNNNNNNNNND IRELAND SCORES!” roared Eddie, drowning out the sound of Donatella's voice just as the score blinked and flashed on the banners around the stadium. Ireland: 10 Sweden: 0 It was then that Ben heard a familiar squeak of annoyance and spun around. In a split second, he began grinning widely as soon as he saw his old friend, Carmen. It might have been horrible at one time – Ben had loved Carmen's cousin Karissa – but now, he felt nothing but happiness at spotting Carmen's familiar face in a sea of thousands. “YOOOOOOOOO!” He leaped up, gave her a high-five, and beamed. “Look who decided to show up! Hey, Antoine! Gwen! Imogen! This is a real party now, isn't it?” Ben was so excited everyone could see it in his flushed cheeks. He beamed down at those he was sitting with. “You guys know Carmen and the gang, don't you?” Lita Carmichael, Gryffindor, waved sweetly. “Hey.” She knew Antoine not only from the tournament, but from their common room and classes. At Lita's side were her cousins, Olivia and Paulina. Sitting at Ben's side was Lita's other cousin – for the world now had an insane amount of Carmichaels – Harper. At her side was her brother, Slytherin, Wyatt Carmichael. Truly, they seemed to be multiplying at unforeseen rates since Tinsley's wedding; every time Ben turned around, there was another cousin. Ben found himself among an army of curious-eyed lunatics, although he was actually pleasantly surprised to find that none of them were as incessantly insane as their aunt, Tinsley, was rumored to be. Harper was even pretty cute. “The rest are Salem girls. Aren't you, Harp?” |
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Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More | |||
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| Harper Carmichael | Jan 24 2015, 07:34:39 PM Post #50 | ||
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I would have done anything to feel real again.
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Harper Carmichael's dark eyes glinted at the mention of her name. Glamorously she threw her head back, and her dark curls fell down her back. Lips, painted red, opened into a wide smile. “Sure am. It's a pleasure to meet you all. You must be Hogwarts, hm?” She laughed, seemingly more interested in their new friends than in the game. “There's a sense about you guys that's different. Plus, I remember you both.” Pointedly, Harper turned to look at Antoine and Carmen. Oh, Harper had nearly died of jealousy watching them both, along with the other tributes. Harper didn't mind the idea of danger, exactly. The sheer amount of attention paid to both students still made Harper's heart flutter dreamily. She would never admit it, but she had spent quite a few days (or weeks, or months) imagining what it would be like to go down in history like that. Her surname was good for a few things, but attention was the best. “Enjoy the game,” she said, flashing a dazzling smile. ”Wouldn't want to distract you.” Overhead, Sweden was fuming. Harper watched the Seeker carefully, even when everyone else watched the action. They seemed to be circumventing the stadium, carefully paying attention to every golden glint, whether it be sunshine or the flash of a watch. Harper tried not to yawn as the announcers were completely drowned out by the manic cheers of a crowd clearly possessed. “You all like this sort of thing, then?” Harper said, fixing her eyes on Ben. Ben beamed. “Of course, doll! Don't you?” The skies exploded. A Bludger crashed into a Swedish Chaser and she fell backwards, holding onto her broomstick with just the slightest tips of her fingers. The camera focused on her face as she winced; the Bludger must have snapped something in her chest and thrown her off balance. Even so, Breen pulled herself up with the strength of her arms and then she looked around, furious. That was when it happened. Alexander whipped his arms back and cracked a Bludger so hard that it smacked an Irish Chaser right in the face. Blood began to pour freely from his nose and mouth; a loud whistle echoed through the Pitch. “FOUL on Sweden!” shouted Eddie dramatically. “Medics arriving on the field! This game is no joke, Donatella!” “But the show must go on,” said Donatella weakly. |
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Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More
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| Rosalita Carmichael | Jan 24 2015, 07:41:21 PM Post #51 | ||
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i'm a wildflower, growing in the sunshine
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Watching the game was distracting when your asshole cousin is too busy flirting with one of the only cute, single guys left at Hogwarts. Although, the shortage of guys wasn't necessarily Lita's problem. She had only hopped to help Olivia and Paulina be a little less... well, hopeless. Anyway, Lita, sandwiched between Olivia and Paulina, snorted at Harper's nonsense. Having known Harper all her life, Lita considered herself to be an expert in decoding Harper's warped sense of flirtation. It was only a matter of time before she began complimenting Ben's pitiful neck beard. “Harper's not serious, is she?” said Lita, rolling her eyes. “She's probably hoping she can get in the background of a picture for the Prophet sitting up here. There's no way she understands a damn thing that's going on.” Livia and Lina all giggled in unison, lifting Lita's shattered spirits. She still hadn't exactly recovered from the previous night's events. So, she had finally kissed Sirius Black. That wasn't even the worst part of it, really. What was worse was that she was decidedly one-upped by none other than Dave McKelvey himself. It was only by the sweet smiles of her cousins that Lita was even here and not packing her bags to live on Mars. She scowled towards the sky, watching the game. “Too bad America sucks at sports.” The medics quickly healed the Irish Chaser's face, and he winked as the crowd roared in approval. Alexander, expressionless, strengthened his hold on his Beater's bat. The Quaffle was awarded to Ireland, who quickly began to zip towards the goal posts, a focused and familiar formation. Lita was about to comment that their incessant back and forth was beginning to get tiresome when Sweden completely tore through their formation, moving their brooms at the last second as they shot in between each Irish Chaser. The group scattered; the Quaffle they had just won began tumbling towards the ground, and a Swedish player caught in skillfully, dashing off without even a glance behind them. It was time to even the score. "There's no stopping Sweden now," said Eddie fantastically. "They've already proven themselves as willing to do anything to win. Have you ever seen such a determination?!" Donatella had. She just didn't say. “Someone's gonna die today,” muttered Lita, elbowing Paulina. “Look at this game, dude.” |
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You know my name. You probably know my story, too. Daughter of Violet Sparks | Niece of Tinsley Carmichael | You can call me Jenn
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| Gwen Montague | Jan 24 2015, 08:14:22 PM Post #52 | ||
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Before Imogen could even dash from the scene something dramatic happened within the match. Ireland scored. Gwen cheered for Ireland as she would if Sweden would have scored, either way Gwen wasn’t bothered who won or who lost. She didn’t support either of the teams. She pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear and glanced over to where another guy was yelling her name. She knew him from Victor, since herself and Victor were close friends and had been for a few years. Victor had introduced them once or twice, and Gwen was pretty sure that at some point Imogen went on a date with him. She smirked. “Hey Ben. Long-time no see!” Imogen called out with a smile, Gwen raised her eyebrows and glanced to Imogen. Imogen rolled her eyes and shook her head, maybe her new friend wasn’t interested in the Hufflepuff after all. Gwen tuned back to look at them, which was where she saw Wyatt. Gwen smirked. “Wyatt, looking decent as usual.” Gwen said with a wink before she laughed and turned back to the game happening in front of her. Her eyes then darted to another girl, her face seemed familiar. Gwen tilted her head and watched the girl giving her a small nod before turning back to the game in front of her. She loudly winced as a bludger crashed into a chaser. “That’s gotta hurt!” Gwen yelled out into the crowd. And that was when she saw Alexander smack a bludger right into the face of an Irish player. “Wish Hogwarts games were this interesting.” Gwen muttered with a small frown. She had never actually watched all of the tasks of the tournament, it hadn’t interested her at the time. Not much did then, and not much did now really. Gwen was just trying to figure out what was happening inside her own head rather than what was happening around her, or to other people. “You still going off somewhere then?” Gwen asked Imogen as her eyes stuck on the game that was happening in front of her. |
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| Fiona Finnigan | Jan 24 2015, 08:41:05 PM Post #53 | ||
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Fiona screamed, she had never screamed so much in her whole life. It was just the fact that Ireland had scored! And so quickly in the game! Fiona jumped up and down on the spot as she whooped for her team as loudly as she could. She ignored the weird chants for Sweden and continued to support her own team, and the second a bludger was slammed into one of her chasers face Fiona scowled. “FOUL! FOUL!” Fiona screamed out pointing at the pitch as though they would actually be able to hear her. The referee flew higher into the sky and began to observe what was happening on the pitch. Fiona wondered what it was like to actually do that job, she wished that she could be good enough to play but she wasn’t what you’d call the best. Her hand-eye coordination wasn’t up to scratch it seemed, especially when it came to catching the quaffle. But she could watch what was taking place and call out fouls, she could fly pretty well as well! Fiona began to wonder to herself what job she could actually do. Luckily for her it would be a few years until she needed to figure that out. Fiona cheered for Ireland, her thoughts were destroyed when she once again got distracted by what was happening in front of her. It wasn’t uncommon. |
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| Camille Montague | Jan 25 2015, 09:36:20 PM Post #54 | ||
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they lose their minds for us
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Screaming kids and bloody noses, Camille wouldn’t expect anything less from the Quidditch World Cup. It was the fourteenth time that she had been to the world cup, she could hardly believe that there had been that many. Camille puffed on the cigarette she held between her fingers and began to slowly walk through the back stalls of the stadium. There was hardly anyone around, they were all too busy watching the match that was taking place. Camille had heard boys yelling and cheering about the amount of blood, Camille had scoffed and rolled her eyes at those idiots. She hoped her granddaughter would never get lumped with someone like that. Although she would be smarter than that. Camille dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with her red heels. Camille walked along the stands and looked up to those who were in the crowds, her husband was somewhere around here. He had to be. But Camille would have preferred to see someone else, she was in the mood for some friendly chit-chat. Or maybe she could find her granddaughter and speak to her about this so called plan. Now would be a time where no one would listen. |
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| Belle D'Eisney | Jan 26 2015, 09:22:11 PM Post #55 | ||
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Not Exactly Sure How She Ended Up Here
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Belle understood that Melissa had thought she was French. It was understandable, since their reputation was as a French school, it was in France, and mostly all of its notable staff and alumni were French; but Spanish and Dutch children went there, too. It wasn't like the Netherlands weren't right on the French border or anything. They even shared some cultural history: Belle's family was descended from Norman conquerors (D'Eisney was a French-Norman name), who resided in the northeastern France. Another fun fact: A group of settling Normans were actually responsible for helping to create the culture of the Irish in which the loudmouth girl was clearly submersed. In fact, Belle was pretty sure she had more in common culturally with the Irish girl than she wanted to admit right now. Europe was a complex web of cultures, a fact Belle learned from the pseudo-Historical adventure comics she enjoyed (the ones which took real people that existed and inflate them to larger-than-life demigod status for the sake of entertainment). "Nee, IK ben Nederlandse," Belle said in Dutch. Melissa's use of her own language made Belle a bit competitive, so she responded in kind. As spoken, Dutch didn't sound that different from English, either, at least when it came to simple sentences. Her last sentence didn't sound far off from I am Netherlands, or I am a Netherlander. Even one of loudmouthed Irish girl could understand that, as her words sounded even closer to English than they did Swedish--although Belle's accent sort of made it sound as though she was speaking her own language even when she was speaking in the tongue of the Anglos. Two twin boys showed up not long after Belle and Melissa had been introduced. They occupied the two seats in between the young women and Belle found herself sitting beside a boy she didn't know. Some might find that situation uncomfortable, but Belle took it in a breezy stride. "Hallo," she said, holding out her hand to the twin who had sat beside her, "I was just talking to your sister. My name is Maribel, but you can call me Belle." She didn't have any particular interest in the guy, but as long as she was going to be sitting beside him and supporting the same team, then she should introduce herself. But then the Swedish team burst onto the pitch, doing laps around the stadium. Belle got caught up in the excitement very quickly, forgetting all about her neighbor as Alexander Dewitt came into view. She had to control her urge to squeal--or squee, a recent onomatopoeia which generally denoted a squeal made by the excitable fangirl that Belle certainly was acting like right now. She'd already jumped to her feet--practically floating up, really, as was her way. She leaned over the rails, head swiveling around to follow her crush's path with dreamy eyes. Filled to the brim with passionate excitement as she cheered, she seemed lighter than air--an image punctuated by the way her flowing skirt whipped about in the wind. Was that a foul that just happened? The Irish girl was excited by something. Ah well. Belle wasn't paying attention to that. What was the score? Who cared? Certainly not Belle. Alex DeWitt's perfect form had just graced with in mere feet of the railing. It wasn't just his good looks, though. Belle wasn't that shallow. Sure, anyone Belle liked had to be good looking, but she'd turned down plenty of well-muscled pretty boys before. No, Alexander DeWitt had character, too. He was nothing short of noble during the TriWizard Tournament, and he was a hero in Belle's eyes, like he'd stepped out of her comic books. Having put him on the tallest pedestal, Belle knew she had no choice but to admire him from afar. Watching him, she was giddy as hell; bouncing--no, floating--up and down on the balls of her feet. She had the overexcited nature of a child and the grace of a woman. She was lighter than air, and probably just as lacking in substance. There was little going on other than her latest obsession, even though she knew there was no chance of receiving back any of the attention threw at him. She was used to living in her dreams, though. It's where she liked to stay, real life be damned! ((OOC: NOTICE ME, SENPAI!)) Edited by Belle D'Eisney, Jan 26 2015, 09:32:43 PM.
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| Alexander DeWitt | Jan 26 2015, 11:46:56 PM Post #56 | ||
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J A E G E R
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A twisted sense of satisfaction gripped Alexander when the Bludger collided with Tierney's piggish face. Goal! Alexander smirked to himself, pushing his chest to the broomstick to dart away from the crime of the scene. Absentmindedly, Alex's quivering fingers reached up to brush against the scar across his lip. Though it was faint, it was a faded memory of his brutish childhood. Exactly nine years ago, Alexander had been struck by a Bludger in an identical fashion by his sister's clumsy hand. At the thought of her, Alexander managed a glance at the front seats of the stadium, where sure enough, Sasha fluttered his jersey in the wind like a flag. He knew he could count on her despite the recent tragedy to their family. When all else failed, Sasha would always be around for support while his father busied himself rigging the World Cup, and his mother hiding from the Swedish media, and his girlfriend inexplicably ignoring him. When the smoke cleared, Sasha would always be the one who remained standing. He continued to barrel through the obstacles, his grip on the beater's bat tighter than any hand he had ever held. On the pitch, Alexander became a completely different person: A humble personality did not bring a victory, but a monster did. He could hear nothing but frenzied shouts and armor plates colliding, bats smashing into Bludgers and the ravenous insults hurled across the pitch. The taunts from Ireland chased Alexander like an aggressive Bludger: "DeWitt's father rigged the game!" "This ain't the Tournament boy! Go home!' "How ya gonna win without ya family vouching for you now?!" Grinding his teeth, Alexander pushed on, his co-beater Emilia Svenson suddenly at his side. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, her blonde bun blocking their hindsight. "Tierney's got it in for me!" Alex yelled over the roar of the wind. On instinct, Emilia glanced over her shoulder, as if Tierney had been breathing down their necks. The two flew in a parallel line together back to Sweden's end of the pitch. "Go and cover Moa!" Alexander shouted over the crowd, praying that Svenson had heard him. "Borg's the hawk right now. I'll make my way over to Stenberg!" Without protest, Svenson listened to Alexander's instructions and speared into the chaos. With a grunt, he used his arms to steer the broomstick away from the goalpost and towards Stenberg's 00 jersey. "Looks like Tierney is in Sweden's territory looking for a score and -- !" Alexander didn't catch the tail end of Donatella's commentary, as he felt a violent force push against the left half of his body. Before he knew it, Alexander was spiraling out of control. Instantly, he began to panic, as his vision as his vision became a blur of faces and flags. The crowd let out an ominous: "Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Alexander became a bullet of blue as he careened into the stands. Out of fear, the crowd parted to allow the beater to crash into the sparse area. Cursing, Alexander tumbled onto the floor, kicking up dust and fast food wrappers. "Is he alright?" Eddie's voice echoed over the silence. The game continued on. "Come on Alex! You gotta get up!" A fan called. "Referees have called a foul on Conor Tierney for aggression!" Donatella chimed. Grunting, Alexander pushed himself up to his knees, shaking his head. He knew Tierney was going to retaliate, he just hadn't anticipated it to be so soon. "I'm alright," Alexander responded to the fan's concerns, dusting off his uniform. His left shoulder pulsed with pain. "You're bleeding dude!" Alexander reached up and dabbed at the crimson blots on his forehead. Disgusted, he looked at his fingers, grimaced, and then wiped his hands on his jersey. Alexander attempted to play it off as nothing, but inside a vengeful crave began to catch like a wildfire. Determined, Alexander mounted his broom. "Tierney has a twenty minute foul!" "Hey DeWitt! You dropped something!" Alexander turned, his eyes narrowed into slits. The fan held out a crimson armband with the imprint of a fist etched into the material. Breathless, Alexander yanked the piece and slipped it onto his arm. His alliance to the Vox Populi would be broadcast for the entire stadium to see. Alexander kicked off back into the field, his mind buzzing with the appealing idea of vengeance. Should he lunge for the jugular? His team couldn't afford any more penalties, but the match was teetering on personal. Alexander often kept his personal differences out of the game, but with the high stakes, it was difficult to distinguish between professional and business. "And DeWitt picks himself up and heads straight into the game!" WACK! Alexander knocked the bludger towards Ireland's Anna Davin with such brute force that his blood began to rain on the fans below him. |
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| Alice Moreau | Jan 26 2015, 11:57:12 PM Post #57 | ||
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I am singing now while Rome burns.
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The excitement in the stadium was palpable. Alice’s heart beat furiously in her chest as she made her way through the screaming crowd. The sun was merciless as it beat down on the crowd and Alice could feel it on her shoulders, her cheeks, her arms. She was late. Alice hadn’t been entirely sure that she was wanted at the game. Were she and Alex still together? The tabloids had discussed the topic furiously in the lead up to the World Cup, dissecting grainy photos of the last time the two had been together and quoting inside sources that Alice was ninety percent sure did not in any way exist. The fact of the matter was, Witch Weekly and Flyer’s Fancy knew about as much as she did. Maybe more if the mysterious Z.D. was to be believed. Alice’s letters had been returned unopened. At first she’d chalked it up to his busy schedule - “They must have moved around. Chance just got lost, that’s all.” - but as the letters began piling up, their gold seals still unbroken, Alice slowly stopped sending any at all. It had been painful. Even now - even unsure - Alice still remained in love with Alexander. Perhaps that was the price of knowing someone so absolutely. Even if he longer wanted it, Alexander still remained in possession of the most secretive, hidden parts of Alice’s heart. The people around her were roaring Alex’s name, chants of ‘Dewitt’ and ‘Cherno Alpha’ ringing out from every direction. She could distinguish Sasha’s voice in the cacophony, dripping with unbridled anticipation. At that moment, Alice was nothing more than a face in the crowd, another girl in a navy blue sundress eager to catch a glimpse of the action. Alice had purchased her seat to Alex’s match prior to the abrupt end of their communication. Vivian had urged her to forego attending the World Cup completely, had shoved her onto some twenty-three year old pureblood “on track to become a senator.” It had been Brett who’d managed to convince Vivian to let Alice go. It had been Louis who’d discovered that Vivian had been intercepting all of Alice’s letters. Even now, the weight of her mother’s betrayal stung. She knew that her mother disapproved of Alex’s decision to play Quidditch professionally - “He had such a promising career and then he threw it all away for nothing, bless his heart.” - but Alice could never have imagined that she’d go to such depths to destroy her own daughter’s relationship. Alice loved Alex rich. Alice loved Alex poor. She had loved him when he was in the ministry and she loved him when he was flying. She would love him jobless, in destitution, with nothing to his name. Alice had never understood why Louis had been so devastated by the end of his relationship with Anita. Certainly his anger had been justified - Vivian had all but threatened to disown him if he didn’t stop seeing “his mudblood” - but while Alice had sympathized with him, she herself had never experienced his pain. Now, knowing that her mother was responsible not only for the death of her brother's happiness but the potential death of Alice's as well, Alice could not help the intense rage that burned inside of her. A gasp went through the stands as soon as Alice reached her seat and the Gryffindor barely had time to react before Alexander DeWitt careened wildly into the crowd. Horror coursed through her. "Alex!" She couldn't help the cry that escaped her lips. Her fingers tightened in the soft material of his jersey. It had belonged to him when he had been a mere child, young and full of hope, in the Triwizard Tournament. Alice held it now in silent prayer. "Come on, Alex! You can get up!" She could feel eyes flicker from the injured Quidditch player to her - DeWitt's absentee girlfriend (?) had finally made an appearance. Alex stood up. He was bleeding. Alice forgot how to breathe. He seemed to move in slow motion, feral anger behind every move of his taut muscles, and yet Alice felt as though she had barely time to blink before Alexander zoomed off, quicker than lightning. A wild cheer left Alice's throat as Alexander slammed the bludger into Ireland's beater. "That's it, Alex!" The panic in her chest loosened. Alex was still bleeding but at least he was in his element. There was nothing that Alice could do now but hope. |
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|| ALICE NICOLETTE MOREAU || ![]() we are all just trying to be holy | |||
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| Carmen Gray-Winters | Jan 27 2015, 11:00:40 PM Post #58 | ||
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and I will take what is mine
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Carmen watched the chaos with bated breath, mesmerized by the twisting and spiraling of each Quidditch player. Her sudden anxiety was clear on her face as Alex spiraled out of control. Before she knew what was happening, her blood was boiling and a hurricane was roaring in her chest. She stood on her feet, screaming. “That's a foul!” she shouted, hands balled into fists. Eyes bulging, she whacked the back of Ben Grayson's head. “Did you see that foul?” Furious, Carmen spun to look at Antoine. “You saw it, didn't you!? FOUL!” Carmen's throat grew scratchy from the effort and she stomped her foot like a petulant toddler, her eyes fixated on the image of Alexander hovering overhead, projected onto the billowing banners that surrounded the stadium, for he was still just a small dot in the expansive stands. It happened so quickly that Carmen thought, for a moment, she was just dizzy from her burst of anger. She heard Donatella's voice, roaring over the storm that was warring in Carmen's mind. She heard cheers, saw mouths moving like ventriloquists were pulling puppet strings and still, everything became awfully silent except for the sound of Carmen's trembling heart. She heaved where she stood, watching the giant, projected image of Alexander DeWitt shine, sweat and blood running down his handsome, though haggard, face. And then something strange happened. He was talking to someone in the crowds. He was... he was... Carmen sat down. She stared at Alex, eyes wide. Crimson wrapped itself around his bicep like a curling flame; a fist, made of iron, tilted towards the crowd and flashed across the giant banners. If people noticed, it didn't seem to distract from the game so much, but Carmen glanced at Antoine. Her expression was blank. She wiped sweat from her brow and noticed that her hands were trembling and her palms were clammy. “Vox,” Carmen whispered, and she looked back towards the sky, watching Alexander crush everything in his path. He was a man unhinged. Carmen felt her heart sink lower than she thought it could have. She shook her head, feeling a burning behind her eyes she desperately ignored. “Alex,” she whispered, almost like a prayer. If it was a prayer, she knew that it fell upon deaf ears. Horrified, Carmen struggled as she watched everyone around her jump to their feet. She couldn't. Power. It was all any of them wanted. This was just another wild, gasping effort to control. Carmen looked at the palms of her hands, pale. She thought of Alex. She thought of Alice. She thought of Dolly, Theodore, and Vera. She thought of Daisy. Her eyes were on fire, and she tilted them towards the game, wincing against the sun. She said nothing. |
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| Ben Grayson | Jan 27 2015, 11:10:11 PM Post #59 | ||
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what wisdom can you find greater than kindness?
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Ben noticed a decided change in the air, but he supposed it was only because Carmen had stopped screaming. He glanced behind him curiously, wondering what could possibly be bothering her so suddenly and completely. He shrugged it off, looking back towards the sky. “You heard about that Vox nonsense, didn't you?” Ben asked, elbowing Harper's side. He smiled as she dissolved into sweet giggles. “Figure it's a bunch of bored schoolkids, don't you think? It's kind of a shame. I don't know, when I'm bored I try to, like... donate to a charity, or something. Starting a ruckus during games seems a little foolish.” He shrugged. The Vox seemed like a few kids in desperate need of a new hobby. All they had done so far was run around waving crimson and screeching to things no one really listened to, and now Daisy of all people was wanted for conspiracy. Ben sighed. If he knew anything, it was to sit down and shut up. Anna Davin was hit by the ferocious Bludger Alex had smashed in her direction in her shoulder. The banners showed Anna wincing, hunched over her broom as a scream no one could hear ripped out of her throat. The veins in her temple bulged and then her eyes, bright and blazing, searched for Alex in the sky. Her arm was limp at her side, but she controlled her broomstick with her other, free hand. She darted through the air, smirk widening. Her broken arm, seemingly unhinged from her, flopped uselessly at her side as if it was made of rubber. “How does she expect to play a game like that?” roared Eddie, but the referee didn't blow the whistle around her neck. Instead, everyone watched as Anna Davin yielded her Beater's bat with one hand and simply balanced without one hand on her broomstick. “MIRACULOUS!” screamed Eddie, and Ireland was beyond screaming. They had descended into utter madness as Anna roared around the pitch, her glaring eyes searching for blood. Sweden had possession of the ball. No – Ireland did! No – everyone moved so quickly that Ben's eyes could hardly keep up with the mania. The Quaffle was fumbled and tumbled through the air like a red dart before others caught it, desperately trying to reach the goal posts. “And still no snitch!” said Ben, slightly amused at the war unfurling before him. |
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Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More | |||
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| Wyatt Carmichael | Jan 27 2015, 11:22:03 PM Post #60 | ||
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tonight I'll hunt you down, eat you alive
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Wyatt leaned forward, his devious eyes searching Ben's chubby, rosy face. Wyatt couldn't help but scoff as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms against his chest nastily. “Of course they haven't found the snitch yet,” he said, his tone one of amusement. “They couldn't find the snitch if it was bewitched to be twice its size. Everyone's too busy screeching over their hero, Alex DeWitt.” His name was like a curse, and Wyatt merely shrugged his shoulders, already bored with the spectacle of flying sweat and blood. “Isn't there something far more interesting we can do right now? I'd do anything. I'd shop with the girls, for Christ's sake.” Lita sniggered. “That's not exactly helping your case,” she said slyly, and Paulina and Olivia dissolved into hysterical laughter which couldn't be stopped, even under Wyatt's burning gaze. “What case!?” he barked. “Nothing,” said Lita mysteriously, a glint in her eyes. She shrugged, glancing back up towards the sky. “Weird about that arm band though, isn't it?” “If I hear one more thing about the Vox I'm going to vomit,” smirked Wyatt. “A bunch of hippie students hellbent on pretending they're making a difference in the world. So hip. Much change.” “AND IRELAND HAS THEIR EYES ON THE SNITCH!” roared Eddie fantastically. “IRISH SEEKER AVA O'BRIEN HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!” Ava O'Brien's flaming red braid trailed behind her like a phoenix's tail. She was spiraling downward, following the trail of a bobbing, chubby glint of fluttering gold. The crowd exploded, but Wyatt – and everyone around him – merely leaned forward, their eyes wide as they watched her crash through the air like a bullet, at the mercy of fate... |
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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