SEVENTH YEAR
head boy
17 years old
First Order Pureblood
Crushing
Edward
20 posts
0 likes
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Post by Verrell Thierry Chevalier on Nov 3, 2012 23:38:57 GMT -6
 Verrell’s arm hadn’t recovered fully from last week’s incident at the library. Although the man had retrieved his wand, and he was obliged to buy another one because of the circumstances (broken by the half and splintered by the very hilt, it was inevitable to attain another, and to dispose the former. Verrell was quite content with his new acquisition, as it resembled the true value of a Pure-Blood. It was completely dark, from edge to edge. Long, yet slender, quite pliable. It was such disgrace that your wand was destroyed, but it had changed him, as the latter was white and this one was replete of darkness. It was more of a metaphor than anything else, yet the object still withheld power and richness, just as it portrayed it at simple sight. This was a matter of prestige and Verrell was plenty aware of it, as of anything related. When you got your wand tarnished and destroyed, it was like tearing a part of yourself, and once it was re-established, you couldn’t just own the very same stick, but you had to improve and best it to no avail. His parents had been very insistent in a diamond incrusted at the hilt, but he refused reluctantly, just as he deemed it worthless and no classy. The man had his own issues plotting his vengeance towards the author of such crime which had let him bandaged by the torso for a couple of days and with small scissures on his arms, slightly visible through his seamless skin. Nevertheless, the bloke just shrugged the thought off, just as he grasped the paper firmly within his hands, opening widely so he could skim off through its contents.
Seated by the edge of his bed, his roommates were off distance to actually have a peek on what he was reading to actually bother, thus there was no danger involved when figuring what that was all about. To be completely honest, Verrell couldn’t mind them, as he knew anything about them barring their Last Names, as it was all that mattered, and even then, they seemed to escape him as well. The man looked carefully, reading ‘TO OPEN’ with wide bold italics at the cover, though there was no instruction to follow or anything, and it only appear like a thin sheet of parchment, nothing behind it, nothing inside or ways to figure it out. The concept intrigued him, forcing him to arch a brow with a hint of interest, as this obviously involved advanced magic that only those brains from Ravenclaw could yield. The bloke stood still, just passing his thumb over and over through the very corner of the sheet, trying to see whether there was a gap or some sort of division through the paper. Fruitlessly his fingers couldn’t do much but folding the paper, finding it a bit amusing. Just for keeping the fun going, the bloke repeated the procedure with the rest of the sheet, making it look like a neat square instead, and then, he just kept folding and folding, as it seemed like the sheet was swelling and getting thicker. Before he knew it, there was a paper game before him, unfolding the very last part until he was holding a big folded parchment of the size of a letter. Verrell didn’t know whether he was imagining it or not, but the surface began to splotch with ink from the very inside.
‘Entangled Tresses Of Wine’ It was written in gold letters at the cover front. The Slytherin didn’t hesitate at opening it widely before his own eyes.
‘Fear not fellow or foe, as you sink into the depths of the lake. Mist will you find through the endless path as you tread into the night. Stark blackness shalt clog your eyes, but once you open them wide, will you see the true that lies behind.
Seeker of sin, quester of doom, gather round to receive the night with shades of grey, blue, gold and red, as you might not falter or waver. Once in, your thirst will be satiated, your appetite will fade away and your will shalt succumb before the darkest instincts you conceal.’
The man needn’t to read aloud, but only keep track of the lecture with his pupils, just as they hasted through the parchment, scrutinizing through its rough texture. Nothing else was written, but once you folded another time, the note became into a map, guiding you through the castle at the Seventh Floor right in front of nowhere. Verrell had stood there before, and he was aware of the place it was referencing to. The bloke downed his reading to the bottom of the map, the fading words of ‘Midnight Feast’ blinking thrice on the paper. It was blatant that it should be the thought you had to mind in order to open the entrance. The Room Of Requirement had been in Hogwarts history and within books, but only those who ventured to read them could be certain of the secrets. This should be an arranged meeting for intellectuals, and partying students. ‘Ravenclaw… implicated… and this is quite brave for being contrived by them solely, so I assume Gryffindor must have coaxed them to their rebellious means’ his deductive mind worked, impeccable as usual. The date referred to midnight as the time, thusly, that should be the moment for the event to take place. Overlooking at consequences, the French didn’t fluster at the thrill of violating curfew, since he was pretty much used to act as he pleased. Since the girl he was procuring in order to complete his revenge would certainly attend the festivity, he couldn’t be left out. If his wit had decoded the message, then he could finely join them.
“Seems we’ve arranged some plans for tonight…” a smirk spread all over his face.
________________
Reached the hour, Verrell had donned himself up, his hair combed and at place, whilst he was elegantly dressed with a black suit that fitted to his frame, faultlessly, displaying his athletic torso without showing off or being vulgar, just as a prideful man of his calibre could be. It wasn’t supposed that he was invited, but somehow that sheet had ended up in his hands, and it was a good way to socialize. Verrell strolled outside of his dorm and astray, leading himself towards the very entrance, just as he reached for the very corridor and the very exact place, having in mind the words he was supposed to be thinking of meanwhile. Once he halted, some strange noise called his attention, just as he darted his eyes towards the wall, breaking into pieces as the bricks seemed to deform, shaping a gate. Summarily, the door swung open and he was invited in by a peculiar guest. Verrell held a mysterious air that night, as he was wearing a mask that covered great portion of his features, making him unrecognisable to anyone who saw him. He trusted it wise not to unveil his identity, especially because of his repute. The bloke couldn’t help but to be amazed by the moment he crossed through the threshold, into the savage event. He was completely unsure of what he would find inside.
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SIXTH YEAR
seeker
werewolf
17 years old
Half-Blood
Crushing
Lee
39 posts
0 likes
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Post by Jessica Lillian Mars on Nov 4, 2012 3:57:27 GMT -6
 It was often heard off that Gryffindors were bold in breaking the rules. They were known for priding themselves with rule breaking and outright courageous moves against the schools policy and rules and although they often got caught in their mischievous plans, sometimes, only sometimes they managed to succeed. Teaming up with the Ravenclaws had been a stroke of pure genius, at least Jessica thoughts so. She had seen attempts like these crash and burn before and they had always ended with detention, however the Ravenclaws credibility to this cause was incredible and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they wouldn’t get caught this evening. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw prefects had all been on board with this idea and had told the other students when and where it would be safe for such a large assembly of people to meet. The risk factor of this evening, all the possible ways it could go wrong was off the charts and still every invited person was trembling with excitement and anticipation for the evening’s events. Even Jessica was feeling exuberant. Actually, just the fact that she had been invited she saw as something positive and a good way to get her mind off various problems. It was only a week ago since, but the image of Verrell underneath a pile of books was still fresh in her mind. Jessica wasn’t that sad to see him hurt, and yet, she wasn’t heartless. She had actually physically hurt someone, which in turn had made her mind a wobbly mess of what-ifs. She was almost back to square one, yet her determination to socialize was stronger than her desire to flee.
They were meeting at midnight, which gave them plenty of time to doll up and get excited for the night. Jessica was once again amazed how willing her dorm mates were to accept her into their strange girl world. They literally clapped their hands in joy when they were allowed to curl her hair and put on nail polish. What a strange world she had entered. Girl world. But she accepted it with ease. She was so tired of running away, and being a part of something, no matter how far fetched it was from who she really was, was exactly what she needed tonight. One of the older girls had managed to sneak in some Fire Whiskey and the ones who dared took a shot, or two. Jessica was one of those daring girls. Honestly, if she were to survive another hour in touch with her feminine side she would need the extra fire.
A little over midnight the girls were dragging her out of the common room and with heels in hand they snuck off to the rendezvous point. Jessica was feeling warm with excitement and bubbly with anticipation. Miraculously they had made it to the Room of Requirement without getting caught, so far so good. The girls ushered Jessica to put on her black pumps, which they had taken off to refrain from making clickety-clack sounds as they had hurried to this point. Almost like a girl Jessica smoothed out her dress. It was a deep maroon coloured dress, low in the back and tight in the front. At her waist it went out in ruffles and other fabric to make it stand out more. It was not particularly long, but for some reason she managed to pull it off with grace without looking trashy. She wore golden accessories to compliment her slightly tanned complexion and dark hair. In her mind she thought she was an obvious Gryffindor in her red and gold, but then again her friends wore colours in all shades so she had cast that idea away. Her hair was long and curled to perfection and her dark eye make-up made her brown eyes seems almost malted honey in colour.
Just as they were about to enter a girl came out, greeting them. She giggled with excitement and whispered: “Hurry, come in, but, it has turned into a masquerade party!” Jessica looked with doubt at the other girls. The shrugged and found their wands in their purses, creating masks out of nowhere. One of the older girls, who was particularly good at transfiguration, handed Jessica a black, metallic mask. Jessica took it with a smile and tied it around her head. With that the girls stepped over the threshold and into the light. And what a sight that greeted them! Intelligence and courage had come together and crated one of the best party scenes Jessica had ever seen. One of the girls in her group took her supernaturally warm hand and moved them towards the refreshment table. “Your hand is so hot Jess,” the girl mumbled in confusion. “It’s just the alcohol,” Jessica lied smoothly, letting go of the other girl’s hand and pouring herself a drink. Jessica was not nearly drunk enough to let alcohol cloud her judgement just yet. In front of her a new world unfolded and like a predator lurking in the shadows loosing itself to the hunt, she began to loose herself to the night.
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SEVENTH YEAR
keeper
18 years old
Half-Blood
Single
Cha
34 posts
1 likes
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Post by Drew Franklin Weston on Nov 5, 2012 9:17:54 GMT -6
 Life was a party, or so the saying went. Drew was probably one of those who lived by such a phrase to some extent. He knew and understood that life was a gift and not to waste the little things in one’s life. He never took things completely to heart, choosing instead to learn from them instead of being brought down. Granted, the young man still got down emotionally, but he wasn’t going to let such things halt in his progress through his life. As such, when the Hufflepuff lad found an invitation to a less-than-discreet (in his opinion) party the lad had mixed feelings over it. Oh, he planned to attend. It was just his style of things, but Drew also knew that such a party could not end well. Something secret and being held under the noses of the Professors? Yeah, that was just a recipe for trouble, and add in the mix of alcohol? (Drew wondered briefly how they managed to obtain it, or perhaps which Professor’s secret stash did someone raid?) Well, it was probably going to be a night to remember. With such ingredients in the mixture, how could the Hufflepuff possibly refuse such an invitation?
Drew arrived at the Room of Requirement around the appointed time. The party was just starting to get into swing so the wizard assumed he was among the firsts to arrive. He had not bothered to dally over his attire, as why make things more suspicious by dressing up—which he saw the vast majority of the students there had done. Again, he wondered at the logic that flittered through his peers’ minds. What would they had said if a Professor happened to spot them in the corridors, not only out after curfew but in apparent party-wear? Yeah, real smart. He shook his head with a faint smile. Leave it to the students to arrange such things and then get a thrill out of the threat of possible capture. Which was the fun, wasn’t it? The thrill of pulling something off, of not being caught.
Perhaps he was maturing a bit more that Drew didn’t really see the fun in all of that. He came to get in on the action, of course, but he had trouble deciding if he was really all that excited about this gamble.
Dressed in dark slacks and a white long sleeve button up shirt and black vest, Drew’s attire would at least pass for some sort of party-wear. He at least had tried to keep things relatively casual. However, it wasn’t very long into the party that Drew noticed something odd. He looked to a Ravenclaw at his side, “Did I miss the memo on wearing masks?” he asked.
The Ravenclaw laughed, “No. Far as I can gather some bloke showed up in one and now it’s just catching on. The girls just seemed to love all the mystery and intrigue behind it, ya know? Best get in on the action, might get some action tonight,” the Ravenclaw ended with a wink. Drew smiled and made a non-committed response before the other boy’s attention was taken away. Drew turned his attention away and moved around the room. He wasn’t interested in wearing a mask. Yet, it was as the Ravenclaw had observed, as the masks were multiplying, catching on like a wild fire.
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SEVENTH YEAR
head boy
17 years old
First Order Pureblood
Crushing
Edward
20 posts
0 likes
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Post by Verrell Thierry Chevalier on Nov 11, 2012 14:56:38 GMT -6
 Such congregation of people couldn’t help but awing Verrell’s mind, just as he wasn’t even aware Sixth and Seventh years comprised all those alumni, and that they were that eager to pound through the massive place as if being the last celebration they could possibly enjoy. Some of them were dangling at the edge of leaving the school fields and venturing into the adults life, which made them even more hectic at such venue. Nostalgia would pour from several hearts, just as they disguised them with fake euphoria and darts of rebellion. Verrell stood afar, his mind still neglecting the odds of befriending anyone there, although he needed a character to play, in order to keep his sham on pace. The French wouldn’t exactly veer his emotions nor his deems of those around him, but he could dissimulate just a little, in order to mingle and never seeming suspicious. However, it seemed he was standing in the midst of the place, observed at distance by certain wholes of girls that stood united, as if plastered by the very hips. The Slytherin, he presumed was the only one there, was not in plans for exploiting his seducing abilities to escort a girl into his den, or else, though the temptation still lingered at the tip of his fingers, forcing him to shovel them inside his pockets as he simply beheld the sight from where he was planted on. As much interest as he could muster, his attention didn’t dart into an specific niche or point of action, as he was more amused by the fascination he was presumably provoking amongst the presents, as they even dared to hide themselves beneath the veil of a mask, for none of those to be recognised; including his prey. That would certainly increase the difficulty of the task, and for that, it would just seem even more tantalizing than it already was to him. Verrell’s ambitions could seem worthless at times, but when aimed, they could work wonders in people.
The man minded anything in the room except himself. Accustomed to be a loner, the boy couldn’t precisely mingle, encircled by strangers he considered filthy and less-gifted in qualities, as of intelligence, pureness of blood and such. It was a myth that all the Purebloods dwelled in Slytherin, as he had heard about some at Ravenclaw and even some at Gryffindor, but they were low in the heritage bond and their families didn’t pertain to the social circle accepted for those of the highest status level. The Chevaliers were indeed the cumber, and they couldn’t let themselves be touched or splotched by mud, by any sort, by any chance. Verrell wouldn’t be the one who would encourage interaction, as he wouldn’t permit himself to contact with peasants, in his opinion. However, he was still in need of finding the girl he was supposed to plot against, and something told him that she could be around, somewhere close to him, and even closer than he thought.
Hanging from the ceiling, the huge chandeliers oscillated occasionally from one side to another, as they were magically hovering above the throng. They didn’t perch from anything, as the ends were suspended at a reasonably high position from the students, although it didn’t show at simple sight, as amidst the total height from the floor to the unseen ceiling, enchanted to display the heaven vault on that starlit night, there was a thin and almost invisible layer of water, separating the alumni from the chandeliers and the millions of candles floating in the air. Some people had casted special glowing balloons, as the centre of the room seemed to change its illumination with hues of colours, going from blue to red, then to gold and finally to white, creating an atmosphere that of worth of an Illusionist’s craft. ‘Clever tossers… ’ he mused, deeply in his thoughts, squinting through the details he was beginning to notice as he scanned the hall with his own eyes. It still maintained the essence of a castle, as the walls pretty much represented everything a castle should be like, the columns, the immense blocks conforming the structure and the medieval decoration, including armours and gilded hung flags, that some clung to the walls, as others hung loosely below the liquid separation. In matters of decoration, they had literally employed every tool to make it perfect, as he couldn’t regard at any single error, for the most little it could be. For some odd reason, he felt in the need of pelting them because of their talent, but he knew it was just jealousy, as his mind couldn’t contrive anything of the like.
The man rested his gaze upon the allotted tables, each containing handfuls of bottles charged with tons of alcohol. He could eye through Fire Whiskey to muggle rubbish, bourbons and such. The variety of liquor was vast that he could barely acknowledge a few, as the rest seemed muddling to his comprehension. The absurdness dressed as flustered humans tonight was astounding to him, in ways he could merely fathom. But his reeling was swerved into the direction of music, just as some really loud beat began bursting through the crowd and the madness it gestated within. Verrell watched as hands elevated in to the sky and some leapt with the rhythm, following it and moving with it, at speed. It was an involving music he wasn’t familiar with; the symphonic merges with a repetitive sound that could be confounded with electronic devices ringing at the very same time with harmony. ‘What is it?’ his senses were extremely unhinged to let him feel on earth, as this genre he didn’t know seemed something that submerged him into reverie, into a awakened trance, stupor that couldn’t be eluded. Compared to the ´parties’ he had attended to, this was absolutely unexpected, and it stemmed some warmth within himself. He could feel like his body wanted to shudder, unwillingly – something he hadn’t ever experienced.
After the ecstasy and the mixed feelings, the man oozed towards the nearest table, intersecting a bunch of girls that appeared attractive enough to lure him in their direction. The most alluring sensations were condensing within him, brewing the replica of Felix Felixis, as that was the only point of compare he could envision. He was trusted his confident self could keep him from rejection, just that he couldn’t act as he normally did, for his deeds would reveal his true self and the show would over, with him scurrying away. Verrell would just be reserved without being rude, and he would only speak if needed. His husky French influenced voice would be factor of identification, thus, the only option left was to cast a spell on himself to alter it. The French drew his wand out of his pocket as he pointed his throat with it, sensing something close to a scorching torrent through it before he could open his lips and let out steam. This was a curiously handy spell he had read, but he wasn’t sure of the outcome, as he hadn’t ever tested it before. The man gulped nervously as he moved forth, holding a glass as he poured bits of the beverage in, grasping it firmly as he stowed the bottle back on the table.
“Even when my first call is Royal Oporto… I must admit this is an exquisite choice” Verrell’s voice out, completely different from his deep wheezing tone, turning mellow and certainly sharp, still emulating a man’s voice nonetheless. He was attempting to start a conversation with the girl of the short maroon dress before him. He couldn’t know whom she was, but there was something mesmerizing about her aspect and her attire that he couldn’t help but to smirk at. His French accent had faded away, and he could be taken for any other english man in the room. The effects of the spell should last for 2 hours or so… something he could deem sufficient to fulfil his plans.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 22, 2012 6:04:02 GMT -6
REMOVED BY ADMIN  A party! Aubrey was used to getting such invitations and yet the excitement of receiving them never seemed to dull. To be sneaking around the corridors at night in her party clothes, the clicking of her heels surely giving her away to anyone that happened to pass her - this was what she did best! Well.. she did it relatively well, considering she had other talents she was certain outdid this one. Midnight. It gave her plenty of time to prepare - to wash her bright blonde hair and curl it as she so often did, to pick out an outfit.. a difficult choice when faced with the daunting size of her wardrobe and its contents, and to decide how to make an entrance on this party. It wasn't often she went unnoticed as she entered, and despite being oblivious to the attention on most days, Aubrey was keen to make some mischief before her last year at Hogwarts was up.. and to make mischief, she needed partners in crime. After all, what fun would it be getting scolded on her own? Better yet, why keep secrets to herself when she could have a companion to discuss them with?
Tonight she chose to wear her new grey dress, paired with tall smokey grey stilettos and some petite diamond earrings. Her hair fell about her face in silky waves, delicate and divine as always. She would enjoy herself tonight, possibly even make a mess and cause some trouble - it was hard to know exactly how far she would go until she got to the party. Nothing horrid would happen, at least not at her hand, she simply wanted to muck up like her fellow Gryffindor students, perhaps one last hurrah before she left. Or two. Several hurrahs, perhaps. It was hard not to grin as she made her way toward the room of requirement, her cloak hiding her party clothes from sight, blue green eyes peeled for any teachers that might come her way. As it was, the corridor was empty - the result of the late hour, she supposed, though Aubrey was used to seeing the ghosts of the castle roaming at all hours of the night. The sound of a few casual whispers came to her ears as she neared the room, and her lips pressed together firmly at the students' carelessness. It only took one professor to shut down the party.
The entrance loomed before her, and Aubrey's white teeth glinted in the shadows as she was greeted and taken into the room. Bodies hurled everywhere, and the smell of booze almost overpowered the fragile scent of frangipani's that wafted around her - a perfume she had been given as a gift by her brother. Aubrey bit her lip nervously, noticing a lot of other people wore masks - the invitation had said nothing about it being a masquerade party, and she'd not come prepared. She looked divine tonight, with long tanned legs that went for miles receding into her soft grey dress, her hair gleaming softly in the dark lights of the party, blue green eyes bright with mischief. Aubrey stepped forward elegantly, sweeping the room for a drinks table. A boy around her age stood nearby, looking a little awkward - Aubrey noticed with pleasure that she had not been the only one that hadn't brought a mask.
Stepping gracefully forward to pour herself a drink of the mix on the table, Aubrey sent a grin the boys way before walking over. Another grin before she began to talk, biting her lip a little as if to hold back the full extent of her smile. "Good to see I'm not the only one that didn't bring a mask" she said brightly, her voice full of energy and mischief, eyes focused on the boy before her - he looked vaguely familiar, perhaps she'd seen him on the Quidditch pitch? He was quite handsome, and adorably out of place in his subtle clothes - students never missed a chance to dress up. Aubrey waited patiently for an answer, barely holding back yet another grin as she locked her eyes on the boys own.
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SEVENTH YEAR
keeper
18 years old
Half-Blood
Single
Cha
34 posts
1 likes
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Post by Drew Franklin Weston on Nov 22, 2012 7:56:27 GMT -6
As more people arrived at the party, Drew was amused to note the varying responses of those entering the doors. It was often clear those who received knowledge before hand that it had turned into a masquerade party. Those people were often less surprised and were usually more prepared. There seemed to be a few hanging around the door—Drew assumed they were either the brains of this shin-dig or they just delegated themselves into their current role (probably the latter)—who were quick to offer their services in transfiguring masks for the arriving party. Drew could see many of them caving into the peer pressures to conceal their features behind the proffered masks.
Yet, the Hufflepuff wizard had yet to cave into such pressures, despite how the masks were becoming ever more common. Instead, Drew was comfortable in his own skin, even as he noted the more dazzling outfits clearly suited for a party this affair was quickly turning into. Drew was by far unconcerned with his more modest attire. He had never been one to conform anyway, which was clear by his continual instance not to wear a mask. He had been approached already by a variety of people asking where his mask was. He supposed this was the hazard of hanging around the refreshment table.
But where else should he stand to get his current beverage? The Hufflepuff had not yet decided to pursue the dance floor and the colorful figures swirling about in a sea of lace and pearls (so to speak). He smiled to himself as he tipped his glass past his lips, the colorful liquid swirling over his tongue, the taste of alcohol tickling at his taste buds. He was relaxed, as so many of his peers. The intellectual part of his mind wondered if they even worried about the danger of being caught as they all moved in this intoxicated scene. Just one wrong move would bring this fairy land crashing down around them with detentions and points reduction enough to set the house point hour glasses back down to zero. Now that would be something for the history books.
The lad chuckled to himself just as he noticed a leggy blonde sending him a look as she crossed the floor to the refreshment table where he stood. Her destination and target were all but clear as blue-green eyes met his brown gaze. She, like he, had chosen to forgo the mask for the night. Drew recognized the girl relatively quickly. She was in his year, though not his house, meaning they had classes together. If that was not enough, then they had battled one another for their individual houses out on the quidditch pitch, she trying to make goals against him.
He raised his glass slightly, as he brought it to his lips, in salutations. Swallowing the concoction, he made another motion with the glass, “If you so desire one, there’s a slew of people hanging around the entrance to make them,” he commented with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think people are just afraid to get caught, so certain that Professors won’t be able to recognize them if they just cover up the upper portions of their face,” he observed, his easy smile never leaving his features. Drew was not the type of guy to get hung-up over little things, but take things in stride. He was easy despite appearing the black sheep in his casual attired and unmasked face.
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SIXTH YEAR
17 years old
Second Order Pureblood
Rebecca
49 posts
0 likes
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Post by Alice Marie Parker on Nov 22, 2012 9:01:58 GMT -6
A princess… a Slytherin pureblooded princess from a family with wealth and power but that lacked the status that the so desired. But the world was completely open to her with no draw backs as her father purchased her only the best and finest things that he could manage to find. Well at least that is what Alice hoped but she knew that he just sent out his wife or some family servant to buy the best stuff since he would not step foot into any store. And as a result her closet was stocked and ready for any event that could be thrown her way. There were formal evening gowns, diamonds and gems, and casual clothing that cost more than some people’s entire wardrobe. It was everything that a teenage girl could ask for and yet as Alice looked into her trunk contemplating what to wear that evening she felt lost. It was a sea of clothing that all of the other girls were drooling over as they got ready and Alice just looked into the vast collection of fabric blankly. Around her the other elite Slytherin females were trying on dresses and tossing clothing about as if it was old rags being thrown on the ground for disposal. But outfits were eventually selected and slowly they began to exit the dorm room to finish with makeup and hair before they would leave for the party. It left Alice alone for a moment, still undecided about exactly what she wanted to wear. It was supposed to be a secret gathering where the students were to hide themselves behind masks and make up. For Alice it was a chance to just escape for the evening and to allow herself the freedom to just not care anymore about anything other than which boy she would carelessly hook up with. Finally her gaze stopped on a show stopping cocktail dress that had only recently been purchased for her and it had yet to make a public appearance. It would be perfect for the evening and Alice quickly slipped on the form fitting dress.
Her dress was a bit different than what she would normally be seen in. First of all it was gold, a color that Alice was not super fond of but her parents loved the color so much that her father would always suggest the color to Alice. The dress was also form fitting and as her mother told her was considered a pin up style dress, which had been popular in the Americas during the 1950s, and it showed off the subtle curves of her body. Alice was not well endowed in any particular location on her body but the dress showed off the soft nature of her body while still sporting a low sweetheart neckline. Finally she rejoined the girls in the bathroom and began to pull her hair back into a simple up do that got the hair out of her face. As she was applying her makeup someone suggested masks that would be fun to wear. Going with the group was a simple thing to do but the mask did not go with her dress so she found an alternative. A black birdcage veil covered up the top portion of her face but still allowed for people to see her eyes. Finally she clipped a red flower in her hair and she was ready to attend the party with her friends. Alice caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror before exiting and she looked every bit as her mother would describe an American pin up girl. But she soon faded into the crowd as they walked with the other students to the location at the time. Finally she was inside and lost among the students that were dancing and drinking til their hearts were content and drunk. It was the perfect environment for her to let loose and just enjoy. A soft smile appeared on her ruby red lips before she broke away from the girls and disappeared into the crowd.
They would not miss her; in fact they would never notice that she was gone once they got themselves a drink and a bed mate. Girls would gladly throw away their friends for the chance at a bed mate who was out of their league. A guy who would promise her the world but then leave her all by herself once the fun was complete and then her friends would be there to pick up the pieces. But that was girl code and Alice knew that tomorrow she would have to console a few girls who had their hearts broken. It was a stupid cycle and not worth her time but she needed to stay in the good graces of those Slytherin girls around her that were more powerful, at least until she found a way out of their society. Her movements through the crowd eventually lead her up towards the table that contained all of the drinks for the evening. A quick mix of a few liquids into her cup and Alice was ready to drink herself into oblivion. A sip for taste and then the rest of the liquid followed quickly down so she could avoid the burn that came with alcohol. Then she mixed another cup that she intended to drink more slowly this time. Again she moved back towards the dance floor, looking for a partner to dance with and loose herself in. Her eyes closed as she took in the blaring beat of the music and she kept smiling. This evening was perfect and for once she was not worried about anything other than her next beverage. No one would stop Alice tonight and for once she just gave off the vibe and genuine confidence in herself and her choice of outfit. Power and beauty was all that she had to offer the world around her. She opened her eyes and just looked over the crowd, not caring if she was staring at muggleborns or people of lesser pureblood status. Tonight they were all available to her and in the morning she would pretend like nothing happened.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 22, 2012 9:55:57 GMT -6
REMOVED BY ADMIN Delight spread through Aubrey as the boy replied, his voice wry and full of the humour that Aubrey so loved. She couldn't help but to bite back another grin - tonight seemed to have a lot of pent up possibilities, and Aubrey was the first to admit she was longing for trouble of some kind. Some mischief, perhaps. A secret visit to the forbidden forest, or Hogsmeade? All shenanigans began with a single drink. A drink that she was swallowing dangerously fast. The music spun hard and fast around them, bodies twisting to and fro on the dancefloor, cause enough for Aubrey to begin shifting her hips, practically shivering with pent up excitement and energy. It was impossible not to be caught up in the nervous atmosphere of the party - the thrill of a forbidden party. A boisterous laugh left her throat at his comment about the reason for wearing a mask, and she replied, voice lilting with contained laughter:
"Perhaps, Drew", oh yes, she had remembered, and was proud of herself for it too, "Perhaps they enjoy the mystery that comes with masks - it does offer some intrigue to the party" another grin as she tipped her glass toward him in a "cheers" motion. Her hips shifted gracefully to the music, though it didn't offer much but a heavy bass and beats. More and more students were entering the party, including a rather regal looking young woman who immediately made her way toward the drinks table. Aubrey watched her absentmindedly, noticing the delicate facial structure and full lips, admiring her dress and large, expressive eyes. A half smile cocked on the blonde girls face, not jealousy, but admiration toward the dark haired girls appearance. Turning away before she was caught watching the newcomer, Aubrey turned her gaze to sweep the room once more before she returned to Drew, the inescapable smile back on her lips.
"I didn't think this would be your scene.. I'm not sure if its even mine!" Well, that was a slight exaggeration. The party was a little tacky for Aubreys tastes.. but it was still a party, and it was most certainly her scene. However, Drew had always come off so intelligent that Aubrey didn't want to risk appearing like a dumb blonde - an assumption a lot of people made, sometimes for good reason. The girl from the door appeared at her elbow, pouring herself a drink delicately. Aubrey sneaked another glance at her before grinning and leaning over and saying "I adore your dress, its really lovely". She flashed a grin to the girl before shifting her attention back to Drew, eyes sparkling with interest.
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SIXTH YEAR
seeker
werewolf
17 years old
Half-Blood
Crushing
Lee
39 posts
0 likes
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Post by Jessica Lillian Mars on Nov 23, 2012 17:45:08 GMT -6
The lights beamed and danced across her face, dazzling her as figures moved past her in this and that dress with this and that glistening drink in a hand. She smiled, intoxicated by the forbiddingness of it all. It seemed like the reckless and foolish lion inside of her had awoken to roar against the thumping crowd. It was like a dying breath from the past summer. A last effort to keep the heat going before it all died down and cooled for the impending frost.
The brunette downed the glass in her hand. It had an absolutely foul taste and she wondered briefly what on earth they were serving here: cheap beer no doubt. Although the possibility that she had taken something horrible was not ridden form her mind. Jessica looked closer at the table and thought she could spot something in a golden print behind the first line of refreshments. She stretched and let her eyes settle on the gold. A bottle of Chardonnay stood ready for the taking and she poured herself a handsome glass. The liquid was much sweeter than the drink she had previously gulped down and it left her feeling much better. The comfort of the taste left her other senses in high alert to everything around her. Alcohol seemed to enhance her senses, if only for a moment, and it subdued the wolf, at least to the point where it too felt comfortable, even in such a big crowd. No matter how fleeting this moment of bliss was it was bliss nonetheless and in a strange way Jessica felt completely in control of herself. She let her eyes dance from crown to crown, light to light, bouncing off the faces of people walking by her. The dimmed light seemed not a challenge to her trained eyes. She could tell it was dimmed by the way the colours seemed a stranger shade than in daylight but the accuracy of her sight was left unobstructed.
Jessica crossed her arms, standing with one arm up, holding the glass delicately between her fingers, swirling it slightly. The air seemed almost electric with the tension from the night. There was so much at risk, the fact that so many people were out at the same time after curfew was enough to cause detention, but the fact that there was alcohol served to minors would definitely going to get you expelled. Jessica found it almost amusing how so many people would risk their entire school career for something as silly as a party. It was ironic that she thought this way since she herself was one of those idiots who would risk her entire magical career to a night filled with dancing and booze. The fun would surely be spoiled at some point and Jessica planned to be long gone by then. For now though she would enjoy herself and let her smell, her touch and her taste, be challenged in this mass of bodies.
A voice broke through her trance and she blinked for a second, bringing her senses back to the point she was standing at instead of trying to be pervasive. Her brown eyes, enhanced in depth by make-up and mask, perceived a young and seemingly handsome man. She raised an eyebrow at him in an effort to seem softer than she usually was. Not exactly conventional, but it was her nonetheless, or, the hunter in her. “I suppose I prefer my Chardonnay,” she said with a gleam in her copper eyes. The accent was in a typical Oxford, standard British accent. She wasn’t quite sure why she had changed from her normal Northern accent. Perhaps the whole secrecy thing had given her reason enough to keep the charade up for a little while longer. It was something a little exciting about the mystery of it all. “You should give it a try, I think someone sprinkled it with actually flakes of gold,” she said with a small wink, raising her glass in a sort of salute before taking another sip of the delicious liquid.
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SEVENTH YEAR
head boy
17 years old
First Order Pureblood
Crushing
Edward
20 posts
0 likes
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Post by Verrell Thierry Chevalier on Nov 28, 2012 18:50:10 GMT -6
No one in sight for the most piercing his eyes seemed, as they pinned uniquely and solely upon the figure before him. Was it the enchantment of the night? Yet the answer was clear, the question still lingered, as he was oblivious of the gist of it. The principal labour was meant to be accomplished tonight rested on the simple task of tearing someone’s soul, for the only tantalizing ease produced the sweet taste of vengeance. Somewhere beneath the whole secrecy and the veracity of his actions, the truth concealed within revenge and everything concerning such. Verrell could step into the night, triumphant and pleased with himself as long as the victim was twitching and crouching with lament. The torturous thought perched in his mind, absent, yet so vivid that it was impossible to escape it – the more he thought, the more he revelled on it. Unobtrusive, invisible and undetectable, his scheme would apply, partially allotted into the place, spanning each niche of the room with a furtive sense that couldn’t let anyone out of its vision. ‘Fear not… as we all turn to demise, tonight’ the thread of ideas chaining into a symbolic and almost unbreakable link, ushering him straight into reverie. Below the dark veil of hypocrisy, he could just ooze through the paths he was carving ahead, treading nonchalantly and forth.
The man slipped across the table, edging to the place where she was standing at, just before she could even notice that he had moved to where she was. Lips unfolded, expelling the words that he couldn’t exactly fathom, with a quite seductive accent. ‘Chardonnay? You said…’ his mind muttered the wheezing voice of his, now alien to his mellow tone. Verrell’s mind reeled swirling in memories of his mother puking at the sole insinuation of tasting it. The Purebloods could only succumb before the mesmerizing taste of Real wine, Royal, sublime, off boundaries, higher than any other exquisite flavour, proving to best any other at no question. Within speculations, the man was unhinged, unsure of whether he belonged to the moment, the whit, or he belonged to his traditional family and the strict regime behind. For a pause, longer than anything before, the man meditated, pondering on fulfilling his needs, or just flow with the wind, for once. “My repertoire doesn’t include an intrepid heart that doesn’t waver at risk… ’ by these means, the man wished to express his sorrow at trying new things – a flaw inherited by his mother.
Past the inner memorandum, his shoulders shrugged, just as he couldn’t behave in his own skin, watching himself slithering behind the girl as he moulded his hand to hers, stowing it upon hers, as he gently clutched the glass of wine, pulling it away of hers as he craned his neck forward and lower so he could have a sip from her cup, perceiving the gilded flakes she was referring to as he did so. This was a daunting phase of himself, just as something he wouldn’t exactly attempt in his own. His mouth detached from the glass as he licked his lips softly, following with a brief nibble. “I couldn’t compare… they’re different in so many ways… I could dare to claim their essence disrupt balance as they differ in too many aspects that I couldn’t conceive a comparison point…” whom was this man speaking? It was his inner self, a poet that dwelled within the tranquillity of his eased mind, with the cold thoughts of a calculating mentality. and the grace of an avid reader. Verrell handed himself his beverage to his free hand, taking his wand out of his pocket, again, out of her sight, to tap his cup with it, making it change its colour as it became absolutely transparent with a slight tinge of gold dying its content as it turned into the reddish fluid he boasted about.
“You made me confront my quirks… I shalt encourage you to emulate such behaviour ” his eyes fixated on hers, regarding at her expression, which seemed lost and at the same time, it couldn’t be more engaging.
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SEVENTH YEAR
keeper
18 years old
Half-Blood
Single
Cha
34 posts
1 likes
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Post by Drew Franklin Weston on Dec 2, 2012 6:14:50 GMT -6
The bloke gave the Gryffindor beauty a wide grin to her comment about the masks. “Aye, it’s all about the mischief, isn’t it? Getting into something while your identity is shrouded,” he said although he did not really believe in it all. While the masks made identifying his fellow students difficult, it wasn’t impossible. These were people most of them have spent their school years growing up with. They knew each other’s voices, their mannerisms. Covering up just their eyes and cheekbones—as so many of the masks only went so far—did not do much to mask the students identities completely. However, Drew kept this observation to himself. He was critiquing things far too much.
Perhaps the blonde was correct in that this really wasn’t Drew’s normal scene. The Hufflepuff was often thought so much as a class clown due to the fact he did not often filter what came out of his mouth. He was the guy who would voice the thoughts that half his classmates were thinking but would never dare say. He had received countless detentions and point reductions for some of the comments he’s made in class. But add him into the company of his two close friends and then there was mayhem to be had. For a while, when he and his best friend had been prefects for their respective houses they had managed to spell the Prefects’ bathroom’s tub onto the ceiling (granted, they had been trying to move it to the Great Hall, but they thoughts ceiling was a good joke as well, so they had left it). That punishment had last them half the school term.
However, as to this scene, there was no way Drew was going to miss it. “What? And miss out on all the possible drama? Something’s bound to happen here and I don’t want to miss it. Besides, sitting in bed doesn’t quite compare to … all this,” he stated, motioning around them with a hand and a raised brow. His devious expression daring her to contradict his statement .
Yet, while Aubrey seemed intent to drown her drink as fast as she possible could, Drew was drinking his more slowly. He didn’t want his senses clouded by drink so early in the evening. He wanted to remember some of the night, and it was more fun to observe the drunken antics of his friends when he was sober enough to appreciate them. After all, if he was drunk there was a good chance he would join in on them—which, where the complete fun in that? Okay, it was fun, but Drew didn’t want to join in or be the cause of something just quite yet. The boisterous affair was perhaps not really his thing. He preferred more intimate settings when he and his mates could get into mischief. Whereas this party was a vast mass of moving bodies, with people everywhere and music so loud one could barely hear oneself think.
He sipped his drink as the Gryffindor turned to the girl at her elbow to whisper something. Drew stared at the mask girl, trying to place her. He knew her.
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SIXTH YEAR
seeker
werewolf
17 years old
Half-Blood
Crushing
Lee
39 posts
0 likes
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Post by Jessica Lillian Mars on Dec 2, 2012 6:50:56 GMT -6
Jessica was not brought up in a classy home with fancy wine and servants, in fact, if anything, she had been the servant of her own house. Her mother had always bossed her around in an attempt to condemn and subdue her. Truth was her mother feared her, feared that she was exactly like her father, and perhaps she was. After all, they were both magical. Jessica like to believe that she was not like her father though, in fact she liked to believe that she was nothing like either of her parents in any way. She had spent so much of her time in darkness and abandonment, and after finally breaching through and finding her own self she would be damned if she were to relive that. Regardless, the fact that Jessica came from an underprivileged home was something that probably would slip through eventually in a conversation, though hardly something that most people would take notice too. Then again, in this very moment she had no idea who she was really talking to, whom she was really unconsciously pouring some of her heart to.
The fire whiskey from before was swimming in her mind, making her senses duller. It was such a liberating feeling to feel the wolf subdued with her. Although she loathed the lack of control it gave her, she also felt incredibly blissful, she felt normal. Tonight, she was just a normal teenager, doing something forbidden, dancing with something passionate and no wolf inside her was telling her how to feel or who to rip the throat out of.
Jessica watched the lad opposite of her with a tinge of curiosity. She couldn’t help but to wonder whom it was. Perhaps it was the wolf that caught on to something, or perhaps she was just that good at visualising people without mask on, but there was something oddly familiar about him. His scent, it was something she had smelled before. Behind that tinge of cologne was a musky smell she’d smelt before. However, she couldn’t pinpoint his voice to anyone she knew and so she left it there, with an odd sense of familiarity. It left her with a slight smirk on her attractive features.
As his hand touched hers to take the glass from her she couldn’t help but to feel a little warmer. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. Due to her werewolf nature her skin was normally hotter than everyone else’s, surely he must’ve felt her abnormally warm skin when he touched her. Regardless, her deep brown eyes followed to the glass to his mouth as she drank the liquid. She took in the form in his jaw and his smooth lips, and once again familiarity blossomed. She smiled a little as she spoke. “All right then,” she said as she took a step closer to him, brining her own delicate hand to his cup, taking a sip of the liquid. It was surprisingly good, and the surprise showed on her face. “I didn’t know they served such good wine,” she said with a smile, hanging him back his drink.
The brunette stood for a moment, taking it all in again. The normality. Yet his scent kept creeping up on her, she was sure that for the rest of the evening she would know exactly where he was in the room at all times. Suddenly, a great force to her back pushed her into the man’s arms, almost making her spill her drink. She supported herself by holding onto the guy’s shoulder with her free hand. A gleam of something dangerous flashed in her eyes. Regardless of her wolfish side she loathed being caught off guard, it almost made her hair stand up in her neck out of pure rage. Behind her two of her girl friends giggled and apologized for bumping into her. They wanted her to dance. Apparently a rave of dancing bodies had occurred on the dance floor, and it was not of the classical type. Jessica stood still for a second, rage leaving her body, when she suddenly became aware of her surroundings, or to be more precisely, where in the surroundings she was. His musky scent was even more overpowering up close and she looked up into the face of the much taller lad. She blinked before steading herself to not stand so close to him. She let go of his shoulder, almost unwillingly. What an unfortunate situation this was. She’d made a complete fool out of herself!
“C’mon, let’s daaaance!” one of the girls begged. She pulled at her hand and wanted to drag her out on the dancefloor. Jessica looked at the lad. She had regained her cool and before dashing off into the pool of people she stepped back into his ring of embraces, placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned up to his ear and whispered: “Trovami un secondo momento,” in her quiet Italian tongue. She smiled at his scent again and let the other girl pull her away into the rhythm of the dance floor. The room seemed to dim in light and suddenly everything around her was just one big heartbeat.
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SIXTH YEAR
17 years old
Second Order Pureblood
Rebecca
49 posts
0 likes
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Post by Alice Marie Parker on Dec 2, 2012 10:13:27 GMT -6
Her mask was a bit more unique than those around her since she had chosen a black veil that allowed the other person to look at her and see who she was but there was still that air of mystery that surrounded her. Then again Alice had always been on the mysterious side, choosing to keep quiet about most things in her life and only indulging people in the superficial information. The information that they could guess when they looked at her or that they heard from a rumor that was ancient. Of course the one rumor that she could never confirm or deny was that of her uncle or the family lawyer that Leigh Parker had adopted as a young boy. People knew that her grandfather was a playboy in his youth, since most of them where back then and no one could blame them. When you had more money than God and youth then everyone wanted to be close to you. He knew how to act and how to be discrete but he fell in love with his wife and gave up that lifestyle for her. Alice knew that her father had not given up his playboy ways for his wife and in fact he fell deeper into them after Alice was born. Who wouldn’t be pissed about have a baby girl instead of a son to carry on the name? But Alice eventually had a brother to carry on her father’s name. Everyone within the pureblood community whispered about the fate of Alice but she would not confirm her fears of being disowned by the parents that brought her into this world.
Receiving a compliment on her dress sort of shocked Alice since compliments were a thing of rarity. In fact she was used to her fellow Slytherin girls saying things to the effect of ”it looks expensive so it must be nice” or ”how do you expect to get any action in that dress?”. Those were compliments wrapped up in a backhanded insult towards one’s character and ability to pay for the expensive stuff. She was used to those sorts of compliments but the female Gryffindor sounded sincere and Alice wanted to laugh at her. More out of awkwardness and nervousness since she was unsure of how to react, however laughter did not escape her lips. Only a soft smile on the corner of her ruby red lips. ”Thanks… it’s new.” She replied. Her tone reflected how awkward she felt in that moment. Why did there have to be talking at this event? Why couldn’t everyone just shut up and meet up with a potential partner for the evening without the trouble of having to converse with them? As far as she was concerned this party was purely a cover for everyone to find a mate for the evening. Finding a mate did not require talking but just a simple movement of the body in a manner that was pleasing to the other. And she could tell from the girl that commented her earlier that she had her eye on the boy standing next to her.
There was a certain sparkle in the girls eyes that gave away her intentions to Alice without any words being spoken other than the conversation that she was having with the boy. The boy was familiar to Alice and she knew that he was a quidditch player since she loved to attend the games. Actually she picked up on the players really fast since she sat through most of the games that the school hosted, even if her house was not playing. The smile spread across her lips further as she looked up and locked eyes with the boy that the Gryffindor girl had been eyeing. Finally she took a step closer towards the pair and quickly broke eye contact with the male. She eyed the girl and sized her up as competition briefly, after all who wanted to be handed everyone. Competition kept her alive and kept her going with a sense of purpose. Again she looked back at the male and allowed a seductive tone to dance across her lips as she spoke to him. ”Would either of you care to join me on the dance floor?” She offered but allowed the invitation to be open to the other female as well. A desperate cry for attention for the young Slytherin girl was easily hidden under a mask of a girl longing to enjoy the party.
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SEVENTH YEAR
head boy
17 years old
First Order Pureblood
Crushing
Edward
20 posts
0 likes
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Post by Verrell Thierry Chevalier on Dec 20, 2012 3:48:05 GMT -6
Slithering through the receptacles of his integument tissue, the bloke could perceive even the slightest of touches, scorching his skin by mere contact, as though he had just dared to address a boiling pot and grasped it by the very edge, unwary of the danger it meant. This was the thought that filled him, the moment his hand moulded to hers, just sipping from her glass as she sipped from his, in a very unorthodox and quite unusual way of exchanging drinks and their contents, at the very same time they exchanged wisdom and knowledge through their different rearing methods, through the cinch, as though it was nothing but a succinct instant that would last forever at some corner of his memory, or his conscience, perhaps. Verrell didn’t attribute this moment to luck, or to any hazardous or uncertain event, as everything happened for a reason according to his beliefs, even when they contradict everything he had been taught. It was perhaps Viv’s influence on him, since she was the only one in the family that seemed to actually make sense with anything she said. Verrell couldn’t do more but admiring her, secretly and try his best to be the most similar to her he could. This was something he couldn’t exactly tell by himself, as though he willed it, intensely, he actually acted otherwise, as if he had been requested to do as he had been told and he had been commanded to forget everything about himself and what he actually yearned for. He had become a ruthless senseless emotionless machine whose mission rested on satisficing his very own needs.
Before he could notice it, the moment was past him and her, just as she returned his glass to his own power and set for his own taste. He forwent the exact whit in which he had an interaction with her, surpassing the normal and rational approach, just by invading each other’s personal bubble, without threat, without consequences. He could have expected her to recoil, or to just glare at him with an absolute repulsion, yet, the response was completely different to the expected reaction, as she even seemed to find it likeable and tasty. ‘The gilded flavour poured into a heartless soul…’ his thoughts roamed freely through his mind, just like a poetic deem that searched nothing but self-indulgence and compassion. She then was shoved back into his arms, with her hand firmly attached to his shoulder as support once she seemed to stumble upon him by a mishap, provoked by her escort, formed by the ladies she was in company of, by then. Verrell felt her gaze on his, piercing and provocative as it was, just that it was tinged with a glint of disgust, as something he could merely notice.
“I’ve got you…” he said, helping her to get back on her feet in complete balance, just as his husky voice bellowed at her.
He watched her as the gang pulled her out of his grip, just following each of her movements, as though he was a furtive chaser behind his prey. It wasn’t something usual in Verrell’s doings, as he was more of the cautious bloke who would just lurk, calculating from the shadows, and making his own assumptions. It took him completely abash by the time she neared him and whispered at his ear, something that enchanted his senses summarily. On a foreign tongue, so related to French as much as the rest of the romance languages, and he could recognise it. It was Italian, but he couldn’t ascertain what she was talking about, to be honest. “What?...” like a reflex, he contained his urge to reply with French, just as he knew it would definitely reveal his identity by the moment his lips parted -which forced him to just bottle it up and pretend he didn’t even know his first language. For tonight, at least, he couldn’t be anything like himself, and he had to fake everything about himself.
It didn’t take him longer to just see her merge with the rest of the throng, getting lost in the midst of nowhere as she danced to the beat, like the rest did. Inevitably, Verrell let her lure him into her position. The French found her treading through the crowd, reaching her as he just slipped behind her, moving at her pace. “Can I have this dance?” he queried, for mere courtesy as he had already started dancing with her without her permission. Another time in which all odds should point at the fact he was going to be buffeted at some point, but only time would determine such. Verrell turned around and then he just grabbed her by the hand, making her spin so she would finally face him. The bloke smirked widely once he could front her, with his squinting eyes scrutinizing through the slits of his mask, into her enigmatic sight.
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SIXTH YEAR
seeker
werewolf
17 years old
Half-Blood
Crushing
Lee
39 posts
0 likes
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Post by Jessica Lillian Mars on Feb 17, 2013 15:42:17 GMT -6
The beat of the music was loud in her ears. A steady drum of the bass, a hum of voices from the people, mixed with their laughter, the sweat, the alcohol and the entire, electric feel of the room. She felt alive, so normal. She was just a normal teenager, partying with other normal kids her age. It was so freeing. Although some might claim that the whole ordeal with the masks was silly, and that everyone should be allowed to be who they were without them, sometimes being freed from the assumptions that came with a face was good. Jessica was experiencing that right now. So few knew her, and no one judged her for her background, her preference for being left isolated or her blood.
Time seemed to have no claim to the crowd or the dance floor and Jessica lost track of how long she had swayed to the music until a familiar scent struck her. Its presence had been there ever since she first encountered it that night, but somewhere in the music she had lost track of it. Now it crept back upon her and a wolfish grin spread across her face. She knew he was near, and the wolf in her enjoyed the teasing hunt. She twirled and lost herself with her little gang of friends, however she only seemed unaware of his presence.
It was hard to sneak up on Jessica. The wolf in her, although currently a little sedated, had very acute senses. She smirked as she felt his presence behind her, and pretended not to notice until she felt him whisper in the dark. He grabbed her hand and she let herself be lead into his arms, her hand automatically landing on his shoulder as he twirled her. She looked up at him from under her long, dark lashes. “Of course,” she whispered back, her lips moving in rhythm to the music, seducing him she every now and then brushed past him. The two moved in unison with each other and the music. Blood was rushing to her head. She was heated. She was electric. She was seductive. It was such a night, and it was utterly impossible for her to describe all that she felt and let herself feel. Through the slits of her mask she regarded him with open fascination. She felt as if anything that could happen would happen, and that no matter what happen she would embrace it with interest and desire.
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