Wizarding Realm -> Ceasefire Ball
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 Ceasefire Ball
Erik Dwight
 Posted: Oct 12 2016, 09:14 AM
Quote

"I'll be your breath if you can be mine."

AGE:
16
YEAR:
6th
HOUSE:
Ravenclaw
CLASH:
neutral
HEIGHT:
5'7
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
4091
Rep: 47 pts [ + | - ]

Erik Dwight
© Tine // She/Her
Awards: 71



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Even in the harsh times of war, there has to be peace every now and then, and the Minister of Magic - Joe Roberts - has taken it upon himself, together with a small group of his confidants, to organise a ball in the name of ceasefire. The location is well-hidden from prying muggle eyes, and several protection charms have been cast to hide the old theatre that is no longer used. Neither costs nor efforts have been spared in order to give the wizarding world of the United Kingdom a moment of peace and unity, while it is an open secret which faction is favoured by the Ministry of Magic. Alas, leaders and members of both factions have been invited in order to create an open space for discussions, with the slightest hope there will be some kind of agreement once the ball has ended again.

But even for such a peaceful event, no risks were taken: guards are patrolling by the entries of the theatre, and there is a rule of no weapons, and preferably no wands being taken inside the main hall where rows and ranks of old theatre seats have been replaced by tables and chairs, while the stage is still a stage, set for a small orchestra and a speaker’s desk for speeches that will be held later on. The loges stayed unchanged, small balconies above the room that are decorated with red velvet curtains, almost on the same level as the chandeliers that were hanging from the ceiling, dipping the room in a dim and yet comfortable light.

The backstage area of the theatre is reserved for those who were helping with the organisation, as well as for caterers and the orchestra members. But there are, of course, secret ways leading towards this area as well. There is an ancient charme to the location, and the walls and hallways show patina and the grace of past days. If it was not far the patrolling wizard, the scene would look like taken from a dream indeed, a feast for the people who were suffering under the pressures and burdens of war. Champagne glasses are chinked together and pearl-white teeth are shown in fake smiles. The busy buzzing of chatter in low voices slowly fills the room, as well as the scratching of chair legs over the floor.

Gazes are thrown from one guest to another, and small groups were standing side by side, whispering in a low volume. The innocent bystander might think that they are just talking about who is wearing what today, and who arrived with whom to celebrate this evenings. But just because the Minister of Magic called out ceasefire, there is little hope that everyone will stick to the rules. Can both factions be trusted with a peaceful evening? Will there be new recruits? And who will get in between the fronts of both factions?


WELCOME TO THE CEASEFIRE BALL!

Members of both factions as well as Neutrals have been invited for an evening of peaceful celebration. The Ministry of Magic rented an old, abandoned theatre and brought back the charme of the old days in order to celebrate the attempt of uniting the factions at war for one night. Music will be played, speeches held and food served - but it is up to you what will happen outside the main ball frame. Check this thread to sign up for missions and stay tuned with the announcements to hear about the latest updates. You are also free to start your own threads in the event area.

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Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: Nov 1 2016, 01:48 PM
Quote

"Looks still cute but lips are sore"

AGE:
17
YEAR:
7th
HOUSE:
Slytherin
CLASH:
Neutral
HEIGHT:
6'2
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
769
Rep: 7 pts [ + | - ]

Florentin Deschamps
© Tine // She/Her
Awards: 42



There was a time when Florentin would have been bothered by the fact that he was not supposed to bring his wand. But with changing times, he almost found his phone more important than his wand, the one thing he had learned to rely on ever since he had been allowed to use it for educational purposes. Of course he still carried it around in the inner pockets of his clothes, but his phone was the real connection to the life he wanted to live, while the wand tied him to a life where he no longer felt wanted. All the ties he had woven over the years seemed to loosen these days, apart from a few close contacts he could impossibly lose - the one friend he had, his brother, his cousin. Like polaroid pictures that had been violently pulled out if the camera, the memories he had made once faded to nothing but hazy pictures of the past.

A war was raging, and yet all Florentin Antoine Deschamps cared about was himself and his own issues, a limited world that had its borders to where the life he lived and the life he wanted to live were crossing over, touching in few but dangerous points of secrecy and doom. A night at this ball might make him think of something else, even though his main point of joining was to drink the free champagne that would be poured. For a few weeks now, the rumours of a ball taking place had been spread over the Ministry, and Florentin’s department had not spared as well, the excited and curious whisper making him look up from his translation work every now and then, only to avert his eyes as soon as someone saw him watching. He liked keeping the contact to his workmates there as low as possible.

So there he was, the cool air of London nights embracing him as he walked to the old theatre that had been chosen as a location. It would be a nice location for a shooting as well, he thought, with the charm of past days still clinging to every corner, every piece of the velvet curtain and every chandelier that was dangling from the magnificent ceiling. There were controls by the door, but he had left his wand at home and gave the patrolling wizard a long gaze before he was waved through, impressed by his own skills of still using his looks to go places - but what else did he have, anyway, if not his looks?

While ignoring everyone around him, the tall Frenchman made his way through the crowd of small groups that gathered in the entry hall, casually chatting while sipping on their glasses and petting shoulders, while wrinkly hands adjusted heavy pearl necklaces. It was much like the balls he had been forced to attend as a boy, with old pureblood ladies throwing shade on each other’s outfits and teenage girls were whispering behind raised hands, eyeing the boy they wanted to ask for a dance. Now the old ladies were dead, and the teenage girls had become adults - yet there were always new ones waiting in line, continuing the endless circle of social humiliation.

Flo reached for one of the champagne glasses the waiters were carrying around - whoever had deemed house elves unfitting may be quartered, as elves were just so much more practical when it came to being neither seen nor heard - and headed towards an empty seat at the side of the theatre, sitting down on one of the chairs, with his pale azure gaze slowly wandering over the people. There was tension in the air - the tension of something unspoken. And Florentin did not like it.
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Florentin is around and sits down with a glass of champagne, come and entertain him.
(clothes)

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Erik Dwight
 Posted: Nov 2 2016, 04:46 AM
Quote

"I'll be your breath if you can be mine."

AGE:
16
YEAR:
6th
HOUSE:
Ravenclaw
CLASH:
neutral
HEIGHT:
5'7
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
4091
Rep: 47 pts [ + | - ]

Erik Dwight
© Tine // She/Her
Awards: 71



"No, I need this. Look," Erik muttered at the wizard who was trying to convince him to hand his wand over, reaching out to pull the Daily Prophet's press ID out of his jacket. He rolled his eyes as the man squinted at it, obviously comparing the small moving picture to the real life version of the Swede who was standing in front of him, growing increasingly annoyed by those who passed by and stared in curiosity. "I don't know if this is worth an exception," the wizard said sceptically, yet Erik snatched his wand away from him. "It is. I need this for work, not for fun," he announced and turned away, ignoring any further protest. He doubted that the small riot was worth the effort it would ahve taken to tackle him down, so he marched through the entry hall, looking at the few familiar faces he spotted and nodding to greet them. He had not ben lying, he was here for for work - even though there was not much to write about as the ball was just about to start, and no one had entered the stage yet.

He genuinely wondered whether Severin had planned any attacks before the main part of the ball. His researches had not brought him that far, as the other Swede was becoming more wary with letting his files and notes lie around - mostly after the dilemma with Astrea Beaufort, and the fact that Erik had not obliviated the muggle reporter. Instead, he had exchanged eyplicit information with her, and that was not exactly what loyal friends and faction friends did. But had he ever claimed to be the latter? No. All of Severin's and Kiljan's attempts of trying to convert him had failed so far, and he was not going to change his mind any time soon. The chances of pushing his career as reporter forward were better as a neutral, with the charming skills of luring people into exposing their secrets to him. The charm of his school days had obviously not faded entirely.

And tonight, Erik was counting on said charm not to fail him, as he was not only here for work, but also for the fact that a certain someone would be around, too. Important Heads of Ministry Departments were most likely dutybound to appear at events like this, and he was dying to see the man he was looking for - especially after he had accidentally spilled his little (or not so little) crush to Sascha out of all people. With the same grace as a cat on the prowl, the small young man moved through the crowd, the press ID tucked away again while he bluntly ignored the offered beverages. The timing for the ball was well enough, somewhere in between the last and the next full moon - leaving Erik in a state that could be called presentable if he would take any more care of looking like he left his rebellious teenage phase behind. He was not feeling bad for once, and therefore capable of facing Honoré Deschamps without becoming a flustered and blushing mess.

Well, who was he even kidding with this.
Shoving his hands in the pockets of the jacket he wore, he walked up the few stairs towards the main hall, watching the Prophet's photographer snapping some first pictures and saluting at him, before his dull, green gaze wandered through over the crowd again, looking for a glimpse of long, silky blonde hair and pale eyes. Erik leaned against the pillar behind him, reaching out to brush a few strands that had slipped out of his braid behind his ear.

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Erik is around in the name of the prophet and looking for the bae @Honoré Deschamps.
(clothes)

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Arthur Callum
 Posted: Mar 1 2017, 10:53 AM
Quote

"a spluttering match held to a frosted pane"

AGE:
27
YEAR:
HOUSE:
Ravenclaw Alumnus
CLASH:
Neutral!
HEIGHT:
6'1"
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
188
Rep: 10 pts [ + | - ]

Arthur Callum
© Cat // She/Her
Awards: 3



When Arthur had heard of a ceasefire issued by the minister, he couldn't have been happier. All of the fighting, to him, seemed pointless, and it made some people, who he normally would have praised and admired for their work and sense of duty, look like mere children squabbling in the dirt over some worthless toy that had better use in being fuel for a fire. But maybe that was just him being bitter and sour over that one time where he nearly died because of a bomb. There hadn't been total clarity on who had committed the heinous act, but Arthur didn't truthfully care about the who. He just wanted justice. He wanted punishment deserving of the bastards who caused so many such harm and suffering. More than anything, though, he wanted the petty, sorry excuse for a war to end so the world could move on and it could be easier for his own name to make it into the papers, for acts of good rather than the hysteria that currently filled the news outlets and had so many on edge.

It unsettled him, faintly, to think he was in a room full of enemies. He'd been caught in the cross fires of a few deathly stare-downs, but for the most part, he could retreat long enough to make the hairs on his neck lay flat. No matter how tense the room got, he tried to remind himself that he looked too good to not be present. He enjoyed dressing up, if his normal attire couldn't be described as classy enough. Still, the man loved a good tuxedo, and he had countless ties to sport. Bow ties were a little fewer, but he managed one a deep mahogany that he wore confidently, happy to sport his favorite color in the smallest of fashions.

Very quickly, though, the man realized there wasn't much for him to do aside from listen to the speeches a few were designated to give. Some argued a case for either faction, but to those, Arthur merely tuned them out, uninterested in being coerced into devoting any praise to either side. Both had taken extreme measures for their own causes, in his opinion. If they could just be adults, pull out the laws and amicably discuss whether any had been broken, than the entire thing could be cleared up. At least, the man wanted to break it down into such a simple solution.

In reality, Arthur was no more passionate about either side's stance than the average wizard, only knowing as much as he did because he worked for the ministry and was involved in discussing the state of his world with other magical governments. Without any care for some fabled elixir, and with a morality that tended to lean towards grays than the blacks and whites, the former eagle didn't find himself in a position to fret over which side was 'most correct.' As long as there were rules to what the people in the Viridian Guild where doing, and those rules didn't impose on the livelihood of other wixens, the man didn't see a problem with research. Though that was as much sympathy as he would afford either case, mostly wanting to keep his hands clean.

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what year is it oops Arthur is just a dummy who thinks he knows everything and is basically just chilling here to show support for an end to the war because he's basically just tired of hearing about it

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