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Rose Colette

"Just because someone can shoot a gun, doesn't mean they have a license."

0 · 1,634 views · located in Orion Institute of Magic

a character in “The Orion Affair”, as played by Layla




"It's only a crime if you're caught."

Ne Me Quitte Pas | Regina Spektor || Creep | Radiohead || Brighter Than Gold | The Cat Empire


1999-2004 || Rosa Sæhrímnir
2004-2006 || Rosette Davina Evighet
2010-Present || Rose Colette

Mudbreed || Bastard || Siren || Rosie



Hufflepuff || Draconis

Quarter-Veela, Quarter-Muggle, Half-Witch

Faroese-Danish-British Citizenship
Bulgarian-French-German Ancestry


Dialogue: #D4A017
Thoughts: #AF7817

Chrysopelea Ornata || 'Domitius,' as Rose calls him, is a stunning golden tree snake with a love of steamy, warm climates and frightening other familiars. He was named after the Roman God responsible of protecting children on their way home. Somewhat ironic, for one who cares little for muggle beliefs - but to her, a book is a book, wherever it may come from.

9.5" Elder wood, Boomslang venom core, Unyielding || A vast improvement from the first wand she acquired - which she only received with the charity of the wandmaker himself as she could scarcely afford one at the time - the volatile and venomous elder wand is one that she need not ever worry about others stealing. Notorious for backfiring on the user, sometimes fatally, elder wood is a rare material for wands. Coupled with the boomslang venom, it makes for a powerful conduit of magic but is extremely tricky to master. It is said those who bond with it are destined for greatness.

None || Try as she might, Rose has never achieved so much as a flicker of defensive magic, much less the immensely difficult Patronus Charm.

Duelling Club || She excelled in Hogwarts' Duelling Club despite her relative lack of defensive magic. After all, protection is unnecessary when one can simply incapacitate the enemy.
Fox Club || Her talent allowed Slughorn and Fox alike to overlook her muddy heritage.
Transfiguration Club || Perhaps it's that Veelas are shapeshifting beings and Rose possesses a fraction of that gift, but she's always possessed a natural gift and love for transfiguration in all its forms.
Frog Choir || She was the co-leader of Hogwarts' Frog Choir.
Godric and Aidan Appreciation Society [G.A.A.S] || Frankly, she joined GAAS for the laughs and to embarrass Aidan. She was quite surprised that such a club even existed, for she cannot see her half brother as anything but immensely awkward and romantically impaired. Godric, on the other hand, she can see the appeal of.


Delusional || Charismatic Introvert || Optimistic || Reckless || Altruistic || Eccentric || Pragmatic

Rose Colette is somewhat of an enigma. She could be described as a pessimistic optimist, upholding the notion that it could be worse. Pain is relative and Rose has a remarkable ability to convince herself of the absence of suffering, concocting tales and imaginary lives she insists she has lived. The loss of a dollar can be mitigated through the imagining that she traded it for candy she ate and simply forgot about, and the loss of a parent is comforted by the possibility that said parent could have been absolutely terrible. Whilst Rose is aware of the truth, she simply chooses to bury it deep beneath piles of self-deception and locked behind chains of flippant disregard. She treats her innate dissatisfaction like a dog, in that her preferred method of solving problems is simply to pretend they don't exist.

Her apathy towards herself is juxtaposed by her empathy towards others. She cares foremost for others and some might call her selfless, to which being a Dark Witch seems antithetical. Her loyalties lie with the House of Zeller and she will do anything for those she deems to be of greater value than she. In that she has a rather subjectively objective view of the world. She places everyone in a hierarchy in her mind, the top of which lie Purebloods. She is fair, but in a manner that is akin to European Colonialists and their faith in evolution. Rose believes muggles are evolutionarily inferior, the Homo Floresiensis before Homo Sapiens came to be, if you will.

Her reasoning is unpopular, but strangely reasonable. Whilst some muggle-borns possess magic, Rose believes they should not be allowed to use it, as doing so would be akin to stating that everyone who owns a gun should pull the trigger, or believing that toddlers who can theoretically wield knives should start cutting whole chickens. It is difficult to see how a half-blood - a halfbreed, too, at that - can be a Blood Supremacist, but that she is. Mixed-bloods will always be inferior to Pure-bloods, but even monarchs need their guard, if only just to stand in the line of fire.

Her disdain for and mistrust of muggles derives in part from her experiences in the muggle world, but also from Zeller propaganda. She has been told, repeatedly, since "joining" the family that she is a charity case and that she should be grateful, and she agrees. That being said, Rose does not worship the ground Purebloods walk on. Rather, their superiority is merely a fact of life, but even within Pureblood circles, there're hierarchies. In short, she believes in survival of the fittest.

She does not fault muggles for being who they are - though she is against muggles with no Wizardly ancestry being taught magic - and will not be cruel to them. In fact, Rose is generally seen to be and is, an amicable person. But whilst she is charming, friendly, and does what she can to help, she always does so with a price. She believes this is only fair. She is somewhat misguided, and believes the best way to resolve a problem is through a duel. Words are frivolous and too grey to allow for an equal and fair trial, whilst strength is a matter of fact and cannot be deceived. That, more than anything, perhaps, makes her somewhat of a Slytherin and Draconis. It is interesting to note that the Sorting Hat did not, even for a moment, consider placing her in Slytherin or later on, Draconis. Rose has never once considered climbing the hierarchy, as being a Halfblood, she knows herself to be unworthy of anything more. The only other House the Sorting Hat thought she might've been well suited for was Ravenclaw or Centaurus.

Her love of riddles and problem-solving is related to her love of poetry. Rose enjoys keeping her mind busy with things that have little to do with herself, or when she does think of herself, she thinks of it in terms of its artistic value. She is not "crying," liquid is merely gushing from her eyes to shatter on her lap. She hides behind art. It is both her vehicle of expression and of suppression, disguising the truth of Rose with lilting notes and pretty words.

Although an introvert by nature, Rose has trained herself to be an extrovert and is generally good at socialising, even if she'd honestly rather read a book than speak a sentence. Her misanthropy is complimented by a love of adventure and a curiosity not easily appeased. She has a tendency to dive into danger - anything that doesn't involve being immersed in the abyss of emotional baggage.


She loves the way words string together like beads on a necklace and how they may form riddles. Music moves her, be it through dance or singing. She likes wandering through lonely spaces like art galleries, museums and libraries. She prefers the company of magical creatures to that of humans, but enjoys learning things about others. She can be found relaxing in bubble baths but enjoys cold weather. Oddly enough, she enjoys science despite not being a fan of most things muggle. She enjoys the outdoors, particularly the ocean, which reminds her of home. Her favourite part about swimming is sinking to the bottom.

Whilst she does not dislike muggles entirely, she does not believe they should use magic. She has little respect for Purebreeds who don't appreciate their heritage. She is not fond of sunsets and sunrises because they resemble the bleeding of a wound. Years of being in foster care and not knowing her own date of birth has made her dislike birthdays as a whole. She's never understood the appeal of Quidditch and generally avoids flying. She needs to be free, and dislikes the feeling of being trapped, hence her avoidance of shoes.. More than anything, she dislikes talking about herself.


Scar on left temple || From when she was attacked by her muggle friend - well, debatable, considering she attacked her - and the group of girls.
Ambidextrous || She prefers neither her left nor right hand for the most part, but can only draw circles with her left.
Invisible writing || Rose enjoys forming words with her toes and fingers.
Barefooted || She hates shoes with a passion and can be seen wandering barefooted.

Languages || Rose has a particular gift for acquiring languages and is fluent in 3 - Faroese, Danish and English - as well as able to speak conversational French and German. Furthermore, she is quite the poet and eloquent speaker.
Fine Arts || She is a gifted dancer - particularly in contemporary ballet and hip hop - and her mesmerising voice is complimented by the ability to write music.
Dark Magic || Like every other Zeller - even if Aidan attempts to deny it - Rose has a natural gift for the Dark Arts, which was honed by Theodor Zeller himself.
Transfiguration || Perhaps due in part to her Veela blood, Rose has enjoyed transfiguration since Professor McGonogall revealed the existence of the Wizarding world 5 years ago. She excels in Conjuration and Vanishment, in particular.
Swimming || Being a strong swimmer was necessary during her early years in the Faroe Islands.
Duelling || Most Zellers are good at it, but Rose is really, really good at it. Her magic is aggressive and she has a knack for incapacitating her enemies before they so much raise their wands.
Veela charm || Even without it, Rose is quite charming - personality wise - when she wants to be. Although nowhere near as powerful as a full-blooded Veela, she does have a knack for looking good from whatever angle and regardless of what she's doing. She can overwhelm unsuspecting individuals. Though the effects wear off the longer someone is with her, it makes for one hell of a first impression.

Defense || Be it self-defense or protecting others, Rose does not have an ounce of defensive magic in her. Rose lacks all sense of self-preservation and passed DADA only because of her impressive scores in theory and offensive magic. She has never been able to conjure even an incorporeal Patronus.
Slow eater || This might not seem like that great of a weakness at a glance, but when one lives with hundreds of hungry adolescents, it makes it quite difficult for Rose to get her share of food before it's devoured by all.
Forgetful || It's a marvel that Rose remembers her name. She can frequently be found wandering the campus lost or staring into space because she's given up trying to pretend she remembers a thing anyone is saying. Rose cannot, for the life of her, put a name to a face.
Humour || Nobody can ever tell when she's joking. Although similar to Aidan's, somehow Rose's humour is, whilst not malicious, has a tendency to make people uncomfortable.
Lacks basic skills || No, she cannot cycle, whistle, operate a toaster, read a map or tie her laces. She can, however, swim.
Bored easily || Rose has the attention span of a gnat and is not afraid to let people know
Adrenaline Junkie || Little besides near death experiences can hold Rose's interest.

Heights || It's hard to say if she's any good at flying because she avoids heights at all costs. She can barely stand to see others fly, for fear that they might fall.
Abandonment || Rose is not a fool and she knows she will only have the love of Theodor Zeller if she serves him well. For that she is immensely jealous of Aidan - who has his family's unconditional love, albeit strange love, when he has done nothing to earn it.

Theodor Zeller || Father || 41 || Pureblood Wizard || Alive
Mona Zeller || Stepmother || 43 || Pureblood Witch || Alive
Unknown || Biological mother || Unknown || Half-Veela || Unknown
Aidan Zeller || Half-Brother || 17 || Pureblood Wizard || Alive

Perhaps she had hoped that the babe would be tossed by the winds and swallowed by the waters rushing against the cliffs. But the child would not go quietly. She wailed until a fisherman spotted the bundle tucked against the rock's edge. The man took her to the single orphanage located in Suðuroy, southernmost of the Faroe Islands. She was so cold and still when he finally delivered her to them that they thought she might be dead. But she retained a smidgen of her pink cheeks and rosy red lips - after which she was later named - as she gasped a shallow breath. A caretaker thought it might be funny to call her Sæhrímnir, after the creature killed and eaten every night in Norse mythology, only to be reborn the next morning and killed again. She thought it represented a survivor, but Rose sees it as the epitome muggle kind's savagery, that they could create and worship Gods so merciless or write tales so barbaric.

If she believed in muggle deities, Rose might think her life was a cruel joke and that she'd been born to satiate their amusement. Whilst the Faroe Islands had one of the world's highest adoption rates, she was one of the rare unwanted few. Later when she was adopted at the age of 5 by a Swedish woman in England, she would be called Rosette Davina Evighet. Davina, beloved. Evighet, eternal. Both lies. She was treasured by the woman and her partner for 1 year, 3 months, 2 weeks, 3 days and 12 hours, until her mamma was taken by an absent driver. Her pappa did not survive the loss, and whilst his soul mourned, his body relinquished her to the cold abyss of unwanted children.

It is strange, perhaps, that she would be named after the flower of love, only for love to be the one thing she could never receive. Whilst she was admired, cooed to and flattered in fact, she was never one of them, or one of anyone. "Pretty girl," they called her, "beautiful Rose," and then they left and forgot everything about her, save for her the frivolous details, like the shape of her sapphire eyes or the curve of her sun-kissed hair. The attention was at times unwanted, and it was when Rose was escaping the attention of a particular foster carer that she discovered magic. It was subtle at first, a matter of merely blending into her surroundings and becoming nondescript, but gradually she developed the capacity to render herself invisible for very brief flashes of time.

The boys could be gross but the girls were worse. Fuelled by jealousy, they set out to make Rose's life miserable. Not long before her 11th birthday, a group of older girls - one of which was one Rose thought a friend - dragged her into the woods and violently assaulted her before shaving her hair. When that was deemed inadequate, they attempted to mutilate her face. Rose's magic retaliated without her will in her distress and a spark of electricity coursed through the hand of the girl holding the razor to her cheek, the one she thought a friend. The pain and shock caused the girl to jolt back and the blade cut into Rose's temple, where she still has a scar.

Professor Minerva McGonagall was the one to retrieve Rose on her 11th birthday and influenced, in part, Rose's love of transfiguration. Hogwarts was everything the muggle world was not, and she loathed returning to the foster system during the Summer holidays. It took only a year for her gift to be recognised and she was soon invited by Slughorn to join his club. However, being a muggle-born - as she then believed she was - Rose always felt like somewhat of an impostor. A crystal pretending to be a diamond. She decided then that she would choose her own name in the hopes of distancing herself from her muggle roots.

It was not until she was 13 that she was recognised by the House of Zeller. It did not take very long for Theodor Zeller to discover that Rose was the product of his brief affair in his visit to Denmark - how Rose ended up in a Faroe Island remains a mystery - as Rose grew to be an almost splitting image of her mother and he heard word of the beautiful Witch with extraordinary gifts, and a mudblood, at that. However in his shame, Theodor said nothing, not because he was embarrassed to have cheated on his wife, because there was certainly no love between them, but that he would tarnish the Zeller bloodline. However, it was evident that his Pureblooded son, Aidan, was hugely inadequate. Theodor reached out to Rose and though he did not officially claim her, it became known that she was the daughter of Theodor Zeller and his mistress.

Although Theodor never revealed who it was that birthed Rose, he mentioned once that she was a part-Veela with distant relations to the Delacours. It explained Rose's sway with men and her otherworldly beauty. Rose was relieved to know she was less of a muggle than she'd believed, but the taint to the Zeller bloodline is an issue of extreme debate in the Pureblood House. Whilst Theodor was willing to overlook her taint because he had little choice as his wife, Mona, was unable to birth more children, others like Mona herself are fiercely against Rose's very existence. For that she is forbidden in the Onyx Estate, where others of her father's line reside.

Rose was not against Theodor exploiting and developing her gift for Dark Magic and it seemed, unlike his son, that Rose inherited some of his temperament and morals, or his lack thereof. It was in Aidan's final year that he decided that it might do him some good to be in Rose's presence. He transferred her from Hogwarts to Orion but a certain complication with the Wizengamot and the use of underage magic delayed her arrival.


Gabriella Wilde

So begins...

Rose Colette's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adeline Butler Character Portrait: Maireadh Fjestad Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Aidan Zeller Character Portrait: McKenna James Character Portrait: Hana Hamisaki Character Portrait: Kirsten Blaise Character Portrait: Rue Marcadieu Character Portrait: Lito Folk Character Portrait: Leo Duàn Character Portrait: Alexander Quigley Character Portrait: Emma Quinn Character Portrait: Leia Delaney Character Portrait: Lucca Faraldo Character Portrait: Adrian Holt Character Portrait: Andy Quillen Character Portrait: Galina Reyes Character Portrait: Bodhi Volkov Character Portrait: Will Kendall Character Portrait: Devan Erskine Character Portrait: Jacobi Thompson Character Portrait: Isaiah Cole Character Portrait: Aria Eccleston Character Portrait: Godric Vitrano
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#, as written by Cloud


Date: 26th September | Time: 10.00 am | Location: Mākutu Village

The first class of the year had been slow for most of Orion’s students, with everyone trying to ease their way back into the beat of school. The teachers, of course, had other ideas than to take it slow, and while some students moaned about the homework that was already being set, others looked forward to expanding their mind. Those who were still in holiday mode quickly settled in to the rhythm of class. That first class flowed into the second class, which then became the third, until a whole week had passed and to most students it felt like they had never left. That first week became two, and before anyone knew it almost a month had gone by since school started.

It’s now been three and a half weeks since the ships docked in the bay, and while many people in the northern hemisphere are pulling out the extra blankets, the southern half of the globe is happily in the midst of spring. Orion looks magnificent in any weather, but it practically glows in spring. Wild flowers sprout up around the edges of the forest, and more often than not bright coloured petals can be found decorating the waters of the magical waterfalls that send down buckets of liquid on unsuspecting students. The baby unicorns have been seen wobbling about the school lawn from the windows, while a pod of bottle-nose dolphins spent the last week playing with the taniwha, Moe, in the harbour.

Of course, none of that is quite as exciting as the prospect of the first trip to Mākutu, the magical village which shares the island with Orion. For those old enough to attend this trip was long awaited. Mākutu is always a treat, no matter how many times one has visited. Nestled on the other side of the island and only a short walk through the forest, it consists of a small collection of stores that sell everything from magical and muggle treats to spell books and novels. Most, if not all, of the stores can be found along the main thoroughfare, with the houses of the residents either occupying the upper storeys of the buildings or snuggled behind. In the centre of the town is a quaint square or cobblestones. A statue in the middle of the square depicts a tall, broad shoulder man of Polynesian descent with a wand in one hand and a magical compass in the other. As the plaque beneath his effigy read, the figure is the Mākutu, the wizard who found and settled the island centuries ago. His gaze fixes on some spot in the distance, as if seeking out his next adventure.

For many, their sights are usually fixed on the Honey Pot, an adorable café by day, and quaint bar by night. It’s here you’ll usually find students and islanders alike taking shelter from the rain, or merely stopping by to try their island-famous honey mead. Praised as the nectar of the gods, or the lovers’ drink (usually only by those who have had several more than they should), it will warm your belly and soothe your worries. It should be noted that students are forbidden from consuming alcohol in the village, though light beverages like butterbeer are allowed to the older students. Thankfully, the Honey Pot offers delicious non-alcoholic alternatives for the younger students, and their hot chocolates are divine. Though, if you’re an inquisitive student or know the right people to ask, you might find your way to the outskirts of the village where the Rusty Ship Wreck stands. While it isn’t a ship, the dingy pub is rather rusty, and locals have taken to calling it ‘the Wreck’ for short. Here, if you’re discrete and don’t irk the owner, a student can purchase and enjoy almost any beverage he or she desires.

It is places like these that have the third years buzzing with excitement as they wait by the school’s main doors to be officially allowed out. It’s their first year being able to explore the town, and most have made sure that they’ll have the whole Saturday to do so, their eagerness seeing them rise early for breakfast when for most a Saturday normally calls for a lazy morning. The older students, most of whom find the pull of the town less consuming, are still all likely to indulge in a trip through the woods. Why not? It’s a chance to stretch your legs, stock up on unhealthy, sugared goods, and possibly share a virgin honey mead with your crush (legend has it sharing the drink brings a couple closer). So, though the third years jump in excitement, they aren’t the only ones waiting for Professor Li and Professor Patel to start ticking off names and allowing students to leave.

Permissions have to be checked, particularly for the third years, but eventually the students are allowed out, and in no time Orion’s pupils are streaming into the village. There is no uniform needed to be worn today, so many of the students wear their own clothes, of which vary between the mundane and decidedly muggle, to the odd and hilarious. No ignorant muggle would be able to walk through the village without stopping in their tracks to gawp at one student, at least. Thankfully, no muggle has ever stepped into the village in living record, which is reassuring for the islanders. Of course, had our protagonists known about the series of events that begin to unfold on this inauspicious day, perhaps they too would have wished never to step foot in Mākutu.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Devan Erskine Character Portrait: Katsumi Oshiro
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#, as written by Layla

      XXXRosa. Rosette. Rose.
      XXXSuch harmless names for one so liable to destruction. Roses were nothing but a nuisance. A splinter embedded in a fingertip, an ephemeral beauty easily plucked, tamed, and exposed to the soft murder of time. They should have named her Belladona, or Arsenic, or Nightshade.
      XXXShe wears chains around her ankles. The black ropes bite into her flesh, anchoring her to the needles as they strike the hardwood floors. The noise is deafening in the cavernous chamber, echoing like the bell attached to the collar of Mona Zeller's feline familiar.
      XXXNishka watches her with amber eyes. Watches, instead of merely looking as ordinary cats do. Although at twenty pounds, the prowling Savannah would not be considered ordinary in the least. Her claws strike the air where Rose had manoeuvred from seconds before. Nishka tilts her head, before slipping into the shadows. She almost seems disappointed not to illicit a response from the young witch. Aidan, at least, showed great annoyance.
      XXXThe girl pauses before the mahogany doors Nishka had been guarding. It swings open with barely a whisper, the breeze elicited lifting strands of her pale hair. The room beyond is dark, save for an ever-burning flame casting shadows across the velvet curtains.
      XXX"Did you do as I asked?" Theodor Zeller intones. He does not look up from the piles of fraying parchment before him.
      XXX"There was... A complication," she says slowly. "The place was in ruins."
      XXXSlowly, much too slowly, Theodor lifts his head. His eyes are two fragments of the abyss as they glide over her, lingering on her white sundress.
      XXXAlways obey the ways of the old. That was the inalienable law of the ancient House. That had been the sacred vow upheld by them all, ensuring their purity as others succumbed to the temptations of the muggle world. Technology, electricity, machines, they were blasphemous creations antithetical to magic. Wizards and witches alike have been forgetting the old ways, lapsing into a state of hapless content that made every wizard born weaker than the last. It's why more squibs emerged with every generation. Why exert the effort of lumos when one can flip a switch?
      XXXConserve the purity of the House of Zeller. That had been and continues to be the single rule hailed above all others and as the head of the family, Theodor Zeller had sworn to protect it, and it was this promise that made Rose Colette his greatest shame.
      XXXHe'd tried to fix his mistake, when it was discovered who she was. He coveted her fire, her darkness, and he moulded her light into a force of destruction. An inferno that would burn, and burn, until there was nothing left of its host.
      XXXApparently, he had failed.
      XXXHe insists on heels. Always. And dresses, to echo the army of suits he owns, so many that the accumulated value might equate to the cost of a small mansion. Sun-dresses, however, do not fall into Theodor's perception of outerwear. It is the scrap teenage muggles wear, one utterly disrespectful to the family name. Especially on a day such as this. Even if Rose Colette does not carry the name in truth.
      XXXThe sundress had been her token of disagreement. A small protest that she realises now must seem pathetic, like an ant skittering around to avoid the boot of a giant. She tells herself she doesn't regret it, whatever the consequences may be.
      XXX"I do not ask for much in return for my generosity," Theodor begins quietly. "I accepted an orphan, a half-breed and a mudblood, when I could have just as well left you to exist as you had. Though someone like you is not to be deserving of even that." He spits the phrases like dirt from his mouth. As if it pains him to know such abominations exist. He rises from the high-backed chair and in a few long strides, faster than Rose could comprehend, he was in front of her.
      XXXShe saw the room spin, heard the crack resound, before she felt the burning in her cheek, the sting as she prodded her cracked lip.
      XXX"Find it," Theodor growls. "And should you disappoint me again, exile will be the least of your worries."
      XXX"Of course, sir."
      XXX"Leave." Theodor returns to his seat, his books. "The portkey is on the third ledge, second shelf from the right."
      XXXRose knows when she sees it that the crisp navy book is the portkey, because it is the only title that isn't completely worn. It's old, but not ancient.
      XXXShe tugs the book from the shelf, and the world disappears.

      ・ • ● • ・

      XXXA beautiful girl had appeared out of thin air.
      XXXAn angel, perhaps. With hair like spun gold and eyes so blue, they put oceans to shame.
      XXXOf course not, another whispers. Angels don't exist.
      XXXShe was a Veela. A seventh year boy says in awe. He knows because he's heard stories of the few that had gone to the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. All pale, willowy and captivating. He's suddenly relieved he chose not to go to Mākutu that day, so he could catch up on his potions work.
      XXXShe'd emerged in a flurry of light.
      XXXNo, it was pink smoke.
      XXXShe'd looked familiar.
      XXXOf course she had. She'd probably been on a runway.
      XXXThe halls whisper, chatter and gossip, until everyone who'd been left behind knew of the mysterious girl. Or had it been a boy?
      XXXMeanwhile, the girl watches another girl watch everything else. A cat trots happily around the stranger's feet. At 5'9", Rose was considered to be quite tall for a girl her age, but near the dark haired witch, she's positively humongous. A voice further away pulls the wide-eyed girl's attention away from whatever it was she'd been looking at. Rose feels a gaze behind her. She remains still until a tall man steps in front of her, watching with eyes that miss nothing, and an expression that reveals even less. It seems today should be the day Rose Colette becomes an animal behind the muggles' glass cages. It's a pity she doesn't have a name tag, with a brief description attached.
      XXXRose Colette. Rosa rugosa magicus sapien. Colloq. half-breed, half-blood, mudbreed, scum of the earth. Rose is sixteen years of age and bears a striking resemblance to limp spaghetti. She was raised in confinement and enjoys sleeping, pretending to be asleep and attempting to actually sleep in her spare time. Do not feed animal. Do not tap on glass.
      XXX"I am pleased to see you arrived safely, Miss Colette," says the bald man.
      XXX"The pleasure is mine, sir," Rose says with a polite nod. "Thank you for taking the time to welcome me."
      XXX"My, you are a polite young lady. Your family must be proud." Rose gives him a closed-lip smile. "You may address me as Professor Zaan. I'm the Deputy Headminister here at Orion. If you would please follow me.
      XXX"You're rather quiet. Most witches would have a lot to say about joining Orion," he says as he waves open the door to his office. "There's no need to be nervous."
      XXX"I'm not," Rose responds. "I just have nothing to say."
      XXX"Everybody has something to say, Miss Colette," he says quietly. Professor Zaan glances over Rose's shoulder, as if expecting something to float in behind her. "You don't seem to be carrying any luggage, Miss Colette," he says finally. "Or a familiar."
      XXX"Oh, I have both," she says simply.
      XXX"Ah, an elusive response." Professor Zaan allows for a small smile. "Perhaps you'll do well in the Centaurus House."
      XXX"I'm a Hufflepuff," says Rose immediately, before correcting herself. "I mean, I was."
      XXX"Then I suppose you know well enough how this works." The wizard turns his back to her, lifting something from his desk. "But I should warn you, Daisy is not the Sorting Hat you might be used to."
      XXX"Well, fuck me!" the Hat exclaims with raised brows. "If it isn't a part-Veela. We haven't had those in a while. Good riddance, too. Vain little shits."
      XXXFor a moment, Rose could do nothing but blink. No, this was most certainly not the Sorting Hat she was used to, or any Sorting Hat anyone could possibly be used to. Theodor Zeller would be horrified.
      XXX"Daisy, we've gone over this," the Professor sighs. "This is Rose Colette."
      XXX"Ah, the Zeller babe's sister. I see your good looks are genetic. But what the fuck is with that name? Rose Colette? It sounds like a six-year-old's name for a doll. Or a stripper. Just as well, you fucking look like one."
      XXX"Daisy!" the Professor gasps.
      XXX"I meant the doll, not the stripper! Bloody hell, old man. Calm the fuck down."
      XXX"Uh, should I..." Rose gestures at the Sorting Hat.
      XXX"Yes, of course." Professor Zaan moves to place the Sorting Hat on Rose's head.
      XXX"Wait!" Rose calls out, and the Professor halts, the Hat hovering scarcely an inch above Rose's head.
      XXX"Oh, fucking hell," Daisy grumbles. "Worried I'm gonna ruffle a strand on your pretty little head?"
      XXX"No," she says quickly. "No, that's not- I'm sorry. May I please have a moment?"
      XXX"Of course."
      XXXHer heart is somersaulting in her chest, straining against the arteries that hold it in place to hammer against her ribcage. She swallows. Panic. Fear. Her tongue is a dead weight in her mouth and she can still taste the blood from Theodor Zeller's slap. Her palms should be sweating, but they're dry. Her heart is sweating buckets into her lungs with the exertion of hammering at two hundred miles per hour. She can barely breathe.
      XXX"Are you alright, Miss Colette?" Professor Zaan asks quietly. "Would you like a glass of water? I'll open the windows to let in some fresh air."
      XXX"No, I'm fine," Rose says quickly. "I'm just- I guess I'm nervous after all," she says with a small laugh.
      XXX"Oh just skip the bitch." Daisy rolls her eyes. "I'm damn sure that blonde head of hers is empty anyway."
      XXXOh, she wishes. It'd be much easier if Rose's head really were empty. If she could wake up tomorrow at the start.
      XXX"I'm ready," says Rose, and the Hat was placed on her head for the second time in her life.
      XXXIt takes a colossal amount of self-control for Rose to refrain from flinching as she stares at the clock above the Deputy Head's desk. A minute has passed.
      XXX"Damn," Daisy mutters. "I take it back. A better person would say I'm sorry but I'm not a person so..."
      XXX"Is- Am I-" Rose begins, but she isn't sure what to say, so she says nothing more.
      XXX"You make me glad I'm a Hat," says Daisy. "You're optimistic. Don't fucking know how, but you are. And you have more kindness in you than most anyone would. You're so nice, it's actually kinda gross." Hope is a gentle tap against the door to her chest. Perhaps she had nothing to worry about, after all.
      XXX"But there's a need in you, kid. You want to prove them wrong and you want to be wanted. You'll do anything for that fucked up idea of a home you have, and that's a very dangerous thing. Very dangerous, indeed. Fuck, I'm torn."
      XXXHer heart is tripping over beats. Rose clenches her fists so hard, she's certain she'll leave crescent stains on her palms.
      XXX"No. No, there must be a mistake." Rose lifts her hand to clutch the rim of the Hat.
      XXX"Hey, hands off the merchandise, you little shit!" Daisy yells. "Just cause we had a little bonding session doesn't fucking mean-"
      XXX"Miss Colette," Professor Zaan says sternly, before gently removing the Hat from her head.
      XXX"Can we do it again? I'm not-" Rose stars, but her voice cracks. "I'm not a Slyther- I'm not in Draconis. I'm a Hufflepuff. Why do I need to be Sorted again? We know I'm a Hufflepuff."
      XXXProfessor Zaan holds up a hand, that was holding a wand. Rose realises then that she's pulled out her own. She'd been gripping it so tightly, her fingers were turning blue. How long has she been holding it? When did she reach for it? She slowly relaxes her grip on her wand, but she doesn't let go of it.
      XXX"People can change, Miss Colette," the Professor says quietly.
      XXXAfter a moment, Rose simply nods, but as her head dips down, her entire body seems to slump, and she struggles to lift it again. She doesn't think she wants to anymore, but she does anyway. She releases her wand, one rigid knuckle at a time, and reminds herself to be grateful.
      XXX"I apologise for my behaviour. It was very disrespectful. Thank you very much for your help, Professor Zaan, and thank you, Daisy," she says. "It was a pleasure to meet you both."
      And the girl slips out the door.

      ・ • ● • ・

      XXXShe takes off her shoes at the edge of the forest. The warm caress of the warm earth between her toes replenishes some of her optimism. Perhaps it won't be so bad. She knows a few good Slytherins. They aren't all monsters.
      XXXBut you are. You already are.
      XXX"Come on, Domitius." She tucks her hand into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a small, squirming creature. In her other hand she waves her wand, murmuring the trans-species transformation counter-spell. The hamster shifts as she releases it, expanding and extending into a striking golden tree snake.
      XXXHer familiar gleams incandescent in the sun, stretching its long body. He rubs against Rose's leg, slipping a pink tongue behind Rose's knee.
      XXX"Stop!" she says between giggles as she nudges the snake away. "Okay, serious business now. I'll race you."
      XXXDomitius pins her with a dark stare, tongue darting in and out as if to say, really? He lunges into the green forage.
      XXX"I didn't even say go!" she calls after him, and tears through the forest.

      ・ • ● • ・

      XXXA barefooted girl breaks through the forest with a snake at her heels.
      XXXThe group of Orion students standing at the edge of it nearly attack the beast, thinking she might've been running from the humongous reptile. But she leans down, extending an arm to it, and the creature curls around her. It wraps itself loosely around her shoulders and waist, resting its head on her stomach.
      XXXThe girl laughs, as if having a deadly snake curled around her body was akin to having a hamster sprinting around beneath her clothes. She pats the small head, and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "lazy little lumberjack," and then she's off, darting around stunned passersby as she whizzes through the magical town of Mākutu.
      XXXThe students stare after her, mouths slightly agape. They don't see her slam straight into a dark haired boy as she turns the corner, beginning her slow descent to the ground. They remember only that the girl had run through a forest without shoes in a ripped dress that might've once been a pristine white, with a snake around her neck, leaves in her hair and sweat in her eyes.
      XXXBut what impresses them most was the fact that she'd managed to make insanity look hopelessly, breathtakingly beautiful.

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Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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The world shook and drifted away after he turned at a corner. A collision between space and matter. Immediately, he succumbed to relieving his balance from the kobolds at his feet. These feet kobolds - they dictated the power of balance by their mood, and found comedy in anything and everything. They could be laughing as he fell, arms bent to break his fall. He would laugh along if it did not hurt his bones, or made him vulnerable upon meeting the concrete cradle of his body. The floor ignored his back, and instead, it welcomed the curve of his arms and the package he abandoned to the mercy of the air. He winced at the sight of the package's descent and eventual inertia, its silent aftermath shaking the uncertainty in his gut. What monstrosity from Sheba's compendium of oddities did not break, or produce an excruciating whine? A portable gate to Asgard? Now that was funny. She must have woven mischief and mayhem into his fate, and sealed it with a black kiss.

His eyes sought the other victim of the collision. Before he succeeded, he saw a golden snake on his lap, coiling and trailing an endless spiral. What bad luck has found its way into the stars of his existence? His bladder was on the verge of scarring his reputation with unwanted citrine water. But it did not. He was thankful that he forgot about the snake for a second, and smiled. “Damn, man. Buddy wet his panties in public.” Aidan would say, not dropping the matter if he let bad luck dig into his muscle. The snake resumed his attention with a soft, eerie hiss. “Sorry, sir…” he whispered as he gathered his arms before his abdomen, and pushed the snake away from his lap. It was unwise to do so, but he did not know how to deal with such a dangerous creature. He believed he lacked common sense or primal instinct sometimes. Only sometimes.

He stood up when he was free, and shifted his gaze until they fell on a woman. A viciously beautiful woman whose light hair could have been the golden snake when braided and coiled. There could be venom at the tips of her hair. He would not know unless he dared to touch them. He did not realize how long he stared, wide-eyed and borderline creepy, when time crawled onward. But it was not the spell of her beauty that converted his existence into marble, motionless. He recognized that face, at least he believed he did from a long time ago – in an old, musty shop filled with wands and rewritten signatures. Or was it somewhere else? She was young then, and so was he. He could not be mistaken. There was nothing quite like the daughters of sea, who could turn grown men into little boys from their ethereal serenade. “Rose Colette,” he dared to say. He wished it were her name. When he sent her letters in the past, he wrote her name in tandem. She had the kind of name that needed to be said or written in full, or else it would be a sin to only say one without the other.

Foreign eyes stared at them for reasons his thoughts could not shape at the moment. Heat crept on his nape out of embarrassment. He removed his robe, and placed it over her shoulders. It was fortunate that he did not know what to wear in the morning, which was the reason why he settled for his uniform. He grabbed the package, and then her hand, pulling her up and initiating a hasty walk without prior permission. “Honey Pot. Yeah. Honey Pot,” he said under his breath as he saw the sign of the shop. His chest tightened at the thought of a possible charge for criminal harassment if she was not Rose Colette, or worse, if she did not recognize him. Alas, so this is what it means to have one's luck run out, and to be in a siege of misfortune.

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Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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#, as written by Layla

      XXXShe remembered reading once, that people were not rain or snow. They did not fall beautifully.
      XXXYet the bystanders around her seemed mesmerised. Time crawled, but too quickly. They wished to catch it and press it to their mouths, devour it like cotton snatched from a cloud, the magic of the girl held firm in their bodies. A flash of azure eyes. Light waves. An artist's long fingers. And a flaw - a pale scar that snaked from the very edges of her left temple to her cheekbone like the imprint of a crescent moon.
      XXXThe fall rattled the girl's bones, the cement cool against her palms. Her eyes were shut, as they often were when she felt the jolt of her stomach scrambling for her throat in a final plea for aid. It did not like the momentum either, the knowledge that there was nothing to catch her but a meagre draft that could carry nothing heavier than a feather.
      XXXIt was the helplessness she loathed. The knowledge that she could do nothing against the gravity, should it demand her return to earth. She had never been able to understand why wizards placed their faiths in sticks. She trusted no one and nothing except herself, and even that, she wasn't quite sure of.
      XXXRose peered through the amber curtain cascading over her face at the hard surface she'd collided into and found a pair of clear blue eyes staring back at her. Dark lashes grazed the fringes of low set brows and brushed the tops of his cheekbones when he blinked, his entire body shifting as if jostling himself of the lingering effects of a tranquilliser. His lips parted, moulding into syllables that sent a shock of alarm through her.
      XXX"Rose Colette," the boy whispered in a warm tenor.
      XXXHer fingers darted to the elder wand hidden in the pocket of her sundress. Before her fingers could curl around the wood, a heavy cloak enveloped her. It was warm from his body and smelled of spring and wood, too many to distinguish. She remembered wandering through aisles upon aisles of wood as a child - curved, jagged, rigid - with a grinning boy at her side. She tugged the cloak closer to her, as if it might hide the memory in its folds. It was a dangerous thing to reminisce, and danger still to accept the hospitality of your enemy. She released it instantly.
      XXXIt didn't matter anyhow, because her hand was suddenly engulfed in his. Her lips parted in silent protest and surprise as the stranger lifted her from the ground. His walk was so hurried, she had to hasten her pace to keep up, despite her long, spindly legs. Like a limping giraffe or a muggle jester, a witch had told her once, before hurrying away with her giggling pack close behind.
      XXXDomitius slithered across the pavement to follow at her heels.
      XXXThe boy mumbled something about a pot, but she was distracted by the fingers that held her firmly, but gently, in its grasp. It was the first time in years she'd felt the warmth of a hand on her own. The thought loosened a string her heart that she steeled herself against it. It snapped back into place. Mercenaries snatched the hands of their victims. Teachers did it before smacking a ruler across the knuckles. It meant nothing, and she ignored the warmth of his grip, warmth she could cocoon herself inside and focused on the meaning of them instead.
      XXXHis hands were calloused, but not overtly tanned. He might be an alchemist or a musician. Maybe even a Quidditch player. They did not seem to be the hands of someone who instructed his wands to do so much that his hands barely felt strain at all. Wands did not leave callouses. Not if you knew how to hold them. But Rose could be wrong. She most likely was. Reading hands had never been one of her gifts. Or people, at that, because she didn't have the faintest clue what the boy wanted with her. Whatever it was, he would not have it.
      XXX"Welcome to Honey Pot! How about a little sugar to sweeten your day?" the charmed door knob twittered. Rose was not prepared for the flood of laughter and voices that cascaded over them as the boy pushed into the room.
      XXXThe place was overflowing with patrons. She jerked her hand from the boy's grip and took a step back into the shadows of a nook in the wall. She did not run away. The boy could be an agent of her father's. He'd been known to send strange people with glib messages. Or he could be an enemy, the person who'd ransacked the place she'd been sent and had now arrived to extract information or revenge for her attempt at interfering. If he was, Theodor Zeller would never forgive her for walking away.
      XXX"How do you know my name?" she asked and hoped her voice was strong. Her body reminded itself of old lessons on body language and etiquette, and she lifted her chin, straightening her spine and pushing her shoulders back so the cloak fell to the ground. She flinched at the rustle it made when it fell to her bare feet, summoning all her will not to apologise for it. A hiss emerged from beneath the cloak and suddenly, her familiar darted from the dark folds. He swam through the parade of customers, eliciting a stream of expletives and gasps of surprise before he disappeared around the corner.
      XXXHer golden protector, at least, did not deem there to be any eminent bodily harm to be exacted of her, at least none he did not think she could cope with. He'd always had more faith in her than she thought was wise.
      XXXThe crowd made her uncomfortable. Already she could feel eyes darting to the slither of gold hair peeking from behind the walls, reflecting spools of incandescent light. She forced herself not to retreat, and pressed closer to Devan, until they were nearly nose-to-nose. She swallowed when her dirty feet stepped onto his cloak. Guilt gnawed at her like a rat escaping flame. She gripped the wand she hadn't noticed she'd retrieved, the tip of which now grazed the front of the boy's shirt, the poor boy who'd done nothing but have the misfortune of being toppled. Now she'd sullied his cloak and threatened him.
      XXX"What are your motives and who do you answer to?" she asked fiercely, but to the people around them, it seemed like an intimate moment between a witch and her wizard. Quickly, her wand nudged his hands, just barely, so he would know it was there. "And don't even think to reach for your wand."
      XXXShe cocked her head to level him with a stare. Their faces were so close, she could have touched him with her lashes. It was then she noticed his clothes. The cloak at her feet. The lilac and silver thread that wound its way through his uniform and marked him a Pegasi. The House she was meant to be in. Foolish, foolish girl. How could she have missed such a vital and obvious feature of the wizard? Daisy did well not to Sort her into Centaurus, at least. She would have made a dismal one indeed.
      XXXSuddenly, a thought occurred to her. Why he might know her name.
      XXXWarmth flooded her, tugging at the strands of her frigid heart like a ball of yarn unfurling. It was too much to hope. She knew better. She knew him, even if he liked to think she didn't. Even if it irked him to think she looked at all. And pained him more to know she would always be an immutable feature.
      XXXA thorn at his side.
      XXXShe was an embarrassment to him, that she knew. But she had hopes that she might not be, all the same. Hope was almost as dangerous as nostalgia. She knew that. She knew all this and yet her wand hand faltered and her eyes welled with hope.
      XXX"Did-" She was almost too afraid to say it. To know the answer. "Did Aidan tell you about me?" she asked tentatively, her voice floundering again, collapsing into the soft whisper that slipped through fingers like powdered sugar.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adeline Butler Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Aidan Zeller Character Portrait: McKenna James Character Portrait: Emma Quinn Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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dialogue color: #9f000f
location: the honey pot

Even Emma, in her zoned out state, could pick up on the confused chemistry at the table. She inwardly rolled her eyes, taking a mouthful out of her hot chocolate. Mac looked vaguely like someone had punched her in the gut, and romantic feelings would certainly explain Aidan's strange behaviour. She'd be lying if she said that she didn't know how confusing it could be, though. She'd never admitted it to any of the others, even Adie or Mac, but she'd had a crush on Aidan for the entirety of her third year. Playing Quidditch with him had been hell, because she kept being distracted from her A-game. But after the summer and a brief fling with one of her old friends, she returned to Orion completely over him.

At Adie's offer of food, Emma turned around to face the counter. "Oh, is that white chocolate and raspberry cake? Adie, my dear, you know how I do love that cake," she said, grinning at her friend. Her attention was then drawn to whatever Mac had in her hand, and Emma leaned over to have a look, taking it from Mac to have a closer look. It was pretty, that was for sure, and it was warm in her hand. Apparently, cursed objects were always cold.

"Well, if it is going to explode or curse any of us or anything, it isn't triggered by physical contact," Emma remarked, handing it back to Mac. "Still, I wouldn't go wearing it 24/7 or anything like that." At the proposition of going to the Wreck, Emma grinned. They usually ended up there at least once every trip, whether it was to flirt or to sneak a Butterbeer. If there was ever proof that Emma and Mac were unsuitable prefects, it was their love of the Wreck.

"Count me in, I'm dying for a bit of excitement. The last even half exciting thing that happened was Ashley Catlett's potion bursting into flames in Potions the other day. Although I might just have to act as your wingwoman today, Mac, I met a nice native boy earlier and don't want to break his heart before I even get to write him a letter," she said, draining the glass and handing it to the waitress.

"Wait, as prefect and our Quidditch captain, are you going to try and stop us, Aidan? or are you just going to tag along and make sure we don't get into trouble?" she teased. However, something behind her caught her attention, and she turned around. There was a lot to notice- first of all, the freaking massive snake that made a run- slither?- for it. And then the witch pointing a want at Devan. Emma's hand reached into her purse, curling around the wand inside, just in case a fight broke out. "Looks like things are about to get interesting here," she remarked.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adeline Butler Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Aidan Zeller Character Portrait: McKenna James Character Portrait: Leo Duàn Character Portrait: Emma Quinn Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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#, as written by Cloud

ιи тнє нσиєу ρσт



It shouldn't come as a surprise to Miss Butler that her offer to bring back some delectable treats from the coutner is met with an almost universal 'yes'. After all, only the strangest person would refuse the offer of a freshly baked lemon cake, or chocolate cake, or really any type of cake. Adie nods happily at Mac and Emma, noting the requested lemon, and raspberry and white chocolate cakes, before a grin splits her face at Mac's last comment. If Aidan were still paying that would definitely encourage the witch the bring back an array of whatever the Honey Pot has on display.

“If Aidan is still paying I’ll get one of everything then and bring it all back for the table.” Adie replies with a laugh, sending Aidan a teasing wink as she does. “Or perhaps I should get two of everything if you're still hungry Aidan."

The teasing dig leaves her lips as the witch pulls her purse from her small handbag hanging from the back of her chair. The clasp purse fits comfortably in the palm of Adie's hand, and she weighs it in her hand to make sure that she has enough wizard money to pay for the cakes herself. Despite the teasing, she wouldn't feel right buying all the cakes in Aidan's name, or even just the three treats for herself, Mac, and Emma. Especially not when she offered.

"Be back in a tick guys." The Australian adds with a playful wave, clutching the money purse in her hand as she navigates through the tight maze of chairs.

While the quaint cafe is never without patrons, on the weekends Orion students are allowed into Makutu, there's always a large influx of customers in the Honey Pot. It means that the majority of the chairs are usually full, blocking up the usual routes and making even small witches like Adie have to turn sideways to get between two pushed-out chairs. She mutters 'excuse me's and 'sorry's as she passes, before glancing to the side and realising she chose the most difficult path of all. Just to the left she would have had a clean run of it. With a small laugh to herself, Adie shakes her head and returns her attention to the front of the cafe.

Adie doesn't catch Emma's warnings about a potential fight breaking out, not when the quiet chatter of other customers almost drowns out her friends' voices, but she doesn't need to hear it. Not when Adie's attention is gained by a slither of scales darting past her feet. The serpentine apparition earns a small gasp of surprise from the witch's lips, the girl not prepared for spying it gliding between the legs of chairs and people of the Honey Pot. From the snake, Adie's gaze drifts up to be confronted by the sight of Devan and a stranger.

She is rivers of liquid gold hair and lithe limbs, a striking jaw, and a natural aura of beauty that turns heads. Adie's almost certainly sure that she must be new, if she's even a student. But, aside from the girl's looks, it is the way she's interacting with Devan that draws Adie's attention. At first glance Adie assumes the pair to be a couple, for their proximity and the way the blonde seems to speak softly to Devan alludes to the idea. Only when Adie catches a flash of wood pointed at Devan does she realise this is no lover's tryst. Without thinking Adie takes a step forward, ready to defend Devan should he need help despite the absence of her own wand, which sits useless inside her bag hanging off the back of her vacated chair.

It's as Adeline is stepping forward that the blonde speaks again, her voice quiet, yet able to just carry to Adie. The witch hears Aidan's name spoken on hopeful lips, and her eyes turn to gaze over her shoulder towards where she had just left Aidan. When Adie's gaze falls back on the blonde, there is curiosity aplenty to be found. How does the blonde know Aidan? Surely Aidan, who Adie had known and been friends with almost her entire time at Orion, would have at least once mentioned an acquaintance with someone as gorgeous as this girl. Adie makes a note to ask Aidan later, stubbornly determined to figure out how, who, and why. For now, Adie's questions are directed towards the pair in front of her as she takes another step forward,

"Devan, are you okay?" Adie asks, her tone is at once concerned and somewhat casual, the casual aspect thrown in on the off chance that she has judged the situation completely wrong. While Adie is not best friends with the Pegasi wizard, she likes to consider herself on friendly terms with him. Enough so that she'd jump into a situation like this without a second thought. Though, given that Adie is usually one to jump in without thinking a situation through regardless of the circumstances, it should come as no surprise that she's standing in front of the pair at all. She's always been the kind of girl who acts first and then thinks, a trait that has often seen Adie walk herself into trouble. Hopefully this isn't one of those times.

"You know Aidan?" Adie directs her next question at the blonde, her gaze glancing from the wand held in the other witch's hand up to her eyes.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adeline Butler Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Aidan Zeller Character Portrait: McKenna James Character Portrait: Leo Duàn Character Portrait: Emma Quinn Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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#, as written by Layla

      song; promise || hex; #808080 || outfit; sweater, oxford, jeans

      XXX"Wonder what we'd get for the actual Aidan Zeller." Emma nudged Adie, a playful grin on her face. "That'd be one way to get out of early morning trainings."
      XXX"Wow, couple weeks into the school year and you're already trying to sell me off into a life of servitude," Aidan teased. "Honestly, Emma. Villains only announce their plans in movies. Now I have the perfect evidence to bring to the Wizengamot."
      XXXEmma stared out the window, her hand lifting to twirl a golden lock around her finger. A line was pressed between her brows and disappointment tugged at the corners of her lips.
      XXX"Oh no," Aidan sighed. "She has that look on her face. I've seen it before." He gave Mac a meaningful glare before returning to Emma. "Whatever you're planning to do, don't."
      XXX"What would the real Aidan Zeller be worth?" Adie mused, catching Aidan's eye. "He'd probably be worth a whole lot more if he didn't eat so much food. He'd eat them out of house and home before they could even think to trade him back."
      XXX"Ohh." Aidan lifted his brows, feigning surprise. "I hadn't realised you were still planning to feed me. I was expecting a cupboard. Chains. The works."
      XXXWhen Mac responded to his previous question regarding the disconcerting origins of her pendant with "Jonas," "Wreck," "Auto," "present," "didn't kill me" and "I think," Aidan knew the pendant was bad news. Nothing good came of Mac's adventures, many of which Aidan had partaken in, chaperoning when Plan A failed. Considering that Plan A was convincing the - overly - curious Phoenicis to restrain herself, he supposed it was no surprise. Still, she broke Orion's rules more often than any reasonable Witch should, and he was complicit.
      XXXHonestly, they should revoke his Prefect's badge now.
      XXX"I suppose persuading you not to go to the Wreck will likely be ineffective," he said blandly. "Then I suppose, yes, I will follow. In fact, don't even consider going without me." He frowned, blue eyes staring intently into Mac's. He touched her shoulder briefly to reaffirm his conviction and so she knew he would not let her out of his sight for a moment. He had the vigilance of a hawk, or a school prefect.
      XXXAidan did not recommend opening anything, even if the curiosity was nagging at him. The pendant looked old and curious, its shell face appearing almost natural, but what could keep the shell shut so tightly besides magic? He supposed an unlocking spell might work. It would certainly be interesting if it didn't, he wondered if it might've been spelled to open only at a certain Witch or Wizard's touch, or if perhaps...
      XXXHe stopped himself.
      XXXHypocrisy was dangerous territory. He should not be curious at all. He rummaged through his extensive knowledge of Orion's rules and codes of conduct - all 666 pages of them - but could find no clause that explicitly stated that a person could not keep what their familiar had found, or force it open if it was a strange pendant.
      XXXAdie jumped from her seat as she offered them a stream of viable treats. Aidan stomach rumbled at the thought. Or it could be from indigestion. Who knew if he'd chewed the Needy Nachos properly as he'd shovelled them into his mouth. They could still be in there complaining.
      XXX"I'll have whatever everyone else is having, thanks," he said, meaning he would have what every single person was having, but he would keep it all to himself. He dug into his back pocket for his wallet, but Adie was gone.
      XXX"Looks like things are about to get interesting here," Emma said suddenly. Aidan turned in his seat to find what Emma had been looking at.
      XXX"A snake!" someone screeched. Cries followed as patrons leapt back. Aidan saw a flash of sunlit gold.
      XXXHe swallowed.
      XXXOh no, he thought. Ooohh no.
      XXXIn all of his 17 - almost 18 - years, Aidan had known only one person to have a snake as a familiar. As far as he knew, that person was safely tucked away in Hogwarts, or as well tucked away from Orion as was safe for the world outside of England. There were other gold-skinned snakes in the world. Of course, that must've been it. Her school year had already begun. It would not have been her.
      XXXCould not be.
      XXXAidan couldn't see what Emma saw from where he sat. He found a familiar head of oak brown hair and was about to call out until he saw a glimpse of a muddy skirt. Devan with a girl?
      XXX"Woah," he said. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing? You see her too, don't you? Do you think she's real?" Aidan turned to look at his friends with wide eyes. "Devan has a girl."
      XXXAidan had known Devan for a while, and did not know of any girl in his life at the present. He seemed completely disinterested in any of the - numerous - girls Aidan had tried to set him up with. Their apparent proximity was something to behold.
      XXX"Damn, Devan," he murmured, shaking his head in mock horror. "Leave room for the Holy Spirit."

      song; digital kids || hex; #D4A017 || outfit; white sundress

      XXX"Devan, are you okay?"
      XXXThe voice startled her, but not enough to relax her grip on her elder wand or to shift her gaze from the wizard standing in front of her. If anything, her hand seemed to tense, magic ready to escape with the hex poised on her tongue.
      XXX"You know Aidan?" the girl in her periphery demanded. The question seems a fraction sharper, where the former might have passed for casual curiosity. At the mention of Rose's name, hope unfurled in her chest. Until her mind strung the words with clothespins and allowed their rose-tinted allure to lift like water from cloth.
      XXXA question. It had been a question.
      XXXAidan didn't tell them.
      XXXShe should be used to it by now, she thought. She should.
      XXXBut disappointment clawed at her, fumbling for anything at all to keep itself afloat. It flailed like a drowning man, pushing and pulling her under.
      XXXShe pulled the hurt apart until it was a thin bit of string, a rope she took a lighter to and burned to ash.
      XXXMaybe it's just her, she thought. Maybe she and Aidan aren't close enough.
      XXXSurely his closest friends knew. Surely.
      XXX"Sure," Rose offered with a nonchalant shrug. "I stayed with him over the Summer break." It hadn't been that long ago, surely he hadn't forgotten about her in the few weeks he'd been here.
      XXX"Do you know Aidan?" she asked the girl politely.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adeline Butler Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Aidan Zeller Character Portrait: McKenna James Character Portrait: Emma Quinn Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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dialogue color: #9f000f
location: the honey pot

Emma laughed at Aidan's comments- even if she was pretty sure that it wasn't the Holy Spirit Devan had to be worried about. "Either she's real or somebody drugged our food and we're all hallucinating vividly," she replied, forcing a grin. Aidan didn't seem overly concerned, which was unusual. If he'd been concerned about an old necklace being a risk to Mac, then surely this would have been driving him mad. But there wasn't much reaction from him at all- and it was then that Emma realised he mustn't have been able to see the wand from where he was sitting. Should she say something? Or would he then start a fight himself?

As Adeline approached the pair, Emma's hand tightened around her wand. It would have been bad enough for Devan to be involved in the fight. But if Adie got drawn in as well, Emma was fully intending on going in all guns blazing. Even if it meant throwing her wand to the side and resorting to a good old fist fight.

As Aidan's name started being thrown about, Emma glanced at him. How did the girl know him? And why the hell was she pointing a wand at Devan? Even from where she sat, she could feel the tension. Part of her wanted to go back Adie up- but then the same old voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she'd only be a liability if there was a fight. Sure, she was good when it came to dueling in school- but she couldn't fight when it mattered. Her Muggle blood made sure of that.

The hand clutching her wand loosened slightly. There wasn't much point in her clutching onto it so tightly, then. She sat back a little in her chair, watching the fight and praying that nothing would go dreadfully wrong.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something strange- strange enough to draw her attention away from the events inside. She turned to stare outside- and what she saw both sent shivers down her spine and confused her. She shoved herself away from the table and ran outside, pulling her wand from her bag as she did so. Darkness had fallen in Makatu, despite the fact that it was still early in the day. "Lumos," she muttered, illuminating her wand. She stepped a little further into the street, scanning her surroundings. She wasn't sure if the goosebumps on her skin were because of the sudden drop in temperature- or the knowledge that something was very, very wrong.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adeline Butler Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Aidan Zeller Character Portrait: McKenna James Character Portrait: Emma Quinn Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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“I never realized you had such a dirty mind Aidan. How often do you fantasize about being chained up in someone’s cupboard?” Mac couldn’t help herself from teasing. It was all in good fun of course, and any excuse to see a flush of red on his cheeks, especially if she was the one putting it there, was worth it. Aidan was even surprisingly easy to placate today, kicking up much less of a fuss than she’d expected.

"I suppose persuading you not to go to the Wreck will likely be ineffective," he said blandly. "Then I suppose, yes, I will follow. In fact, don't even consider going without me."

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Mac almost purred, feeling like the cat who’s caught the canary after securing her favorite prefect’s company for some ambiguously permitted fun. The wayward touch of his hand to her shoulder filled her with another rush entirely, one she decided to simply bask in rather than examine too closely.

Mac’s feeling of triumph however, was cut short by a new arrival. A snake had woven its way through the café (making quite the entrance if the shrieks were anything to go by) to an indisputably beautiful blonde that had settled herself disconcertingly close to their classmate Devan. Aidan seemed to think it was a lover’s embrace, but Addy appeared more concerned. Even Emma seemed a bit tense, and knowing Devan, even in passing, the displace Aidan was insinuating didn’t seem likely.
Tucking the necklace away, Mac reached for a loose grip on her wand. She moved closer the Addy, ready to back up her friend if need be. When she sees the other girl’s wand, Mac doesn’t bother to conceal hers.

“Yes we do, quite well.” Mac replied in a clipped tone. Maybe it was the wand or the snake, or even the fact this beautiful unknown girl claimed to not just know Aidan, but have spent the summer with him that had her feeling hostile. “Aidan never mentioned anyone staying with his family this summer. What did you say your name was?”

However the confrontation might have ended, Mac was suddenly distracted by the sudden and unexpected loss of light. The sky outside had darkened in a way no natural weather pattern could cause, and the air itself seemed to crackle with magical energy, and it had alarm bells going off in her head.

“Wait, Emma, no!” Mac called as her friend rushed outside to get a better look at what was happening. Usually, Mac was the reckless one, but something about the smoke screamed dark magic, and had her on high alert.

“Lumos!” Mac summoned the light before running out after Emma. The street outside was filled with students, most looking confused, and a group of frightened third years had begun to huddle. Mac ushered them toward the Honey Pot as she looked for Emma, the sense of urgency she felt only seeming to grow.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adeline Butler Character Portrait: Rose Colette Character Portrait: Aidan Zeller Character Portrait: McKenna James Character Portrait: Emma Quinn Character Portrait: Devan Erskine
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Time splintered.

To the baffled boy, it was as though the universe had stopped breathing. He was in the heat of the moment, with his hand in unfamiliar wedlock. Everything else appeared static, but it may be the result of his current inattentiveness to the environment. He noticed that his eyes focused on the ground. They traced the uneven lines between the brutalized cobblestones. The road looked careless, coarsened by the abandonment of its lawless designs, but such a quality was almost timeless. Nobody needs to care how vicious one walks on the surface that had no delicacy. And he was none the better. Leather soles and stone canoodled beyond consent, his feet dragged behind him in reflection of the tangled state of his mind. The previous silence of the universe died in his consciousness, and he could now hear the wayward caress his steps told. All these theatrics for illicitly holding a girl’s hand? What has become of the world? Well, not just any girl, he might add. She was—no, is Rose Colette. She had the face of the girl in the Zellers’ family portrait Aidan had been reluctant to show in the summer. He was as certain as one can be about the existence of the wind and sky.

“Welcome to Honey Pot! How about a little sugar to sweeten your day?” the doorknob of the aforementioned shop chimed and contradicted the silver-tongued bedlam within his thoughts. He stirred from the Sandman’s sweet sayings, and muttered a weak “hello and thank you.” Responding was a force of habit. He did not want to replicate the feeling experienced when one is ignored. A sapient doorknob would feel the same, would it not? He was not certain, but it was better to say it than to have not, in case the doorknob resumes a substantial, peripatetic form and comes to haunt him along with other revenge-worthy guests who did not have the decency to utter a word. Ah, he was being silly.

The hand within his grip loosened and disappeared, causing him to face the girl with a mechanical gaze. Parting his lips, a soft whistle escaped, only to be followed by slurred words that would have been unintelligible to another person. “I did not mean to—”

“How do you know my name?” she said. Her voice was unfamiliar—not that he had spoken to her more than once in their childhood, or beyond ink and paper. His cloak fell from her shoulders, but he was not concerned at the tragedy that awaited it on the burnished surface of the floor. She developed her posture with dignity, rendering him aware of the fact that he was a few inches shorter than her. Perhaps it was from the way she seemed to look down at him, or she might have been wearing heels to grace the air above her natural height. When he heard a hiss, his gaze darted to the golden snake that emerged from within the pleats of his cloak. He did not move. His mind did not comprehend the fear of revenge that was possible from how he shoved it away. But he was more bothered by the fact that she was barefooted, which meant her manifestation was no mere jest.

“I…” The air in his lungs dissipated when she pressed herself against him.

“What are your motives and who do you answer to?” she said, her voice hostile that it contradicted her faultless appearance. He could not blame her for being cautious, since her family was strict and noble, and she was hidden from the world to be brought up by shadows. Aidan was the rebel, but he was proud his best friend spat at fate and pointed toward a horizon lined with the sunrise. “And don't even think to reach for your wand.” Her wand jabbed his hands, the act of threat expressed louder in thoughts more so than vocalized words could ever hope to achieve. He was not one for retaliation, and there were instances he realized that all he would do at the face of death was to spread his arms and to stare at the heavens. Soar to the skies. Be the raven that he dreamt of being in the next life. But that would have been ridiculous to do in this encounter.

Their gazes collided and surged, sapphire against sapphire. But she dominated. Her eyes mirrored Skaði, the Norse goddess of the hunt and winter, as they froze his veins until they did not differ from the hoarfrost that coated the dead fingers of the Northern trees. He could not turn away, more concerned that his hair would brush and hurt her eyes above their close proximity.

“Did—Did Aidan tell you about me?” A hopeful voice, not as cold as it was earlier, melted his senses that he nearly surrendered to the rouge beneath his cheeks. He was convinced that he should lie to keep her peace. After all, he has been asking about her from Aidan during the past years.

“Devan, are you okay?” It was Adeline’s voice. The usual conversations in the school’s corridors would never permit him to mistaken it for another. “You know Aidan?”

“Sure. I stayed with him over the summer break,” Rose Colette said, her shoulders stirred as he withdrew his steps. “Do you know Aidan?” Where was that guy anyway? Aidan should be in Honey Pot, unless he decided to watch from the sidelines out of sheer amusement. Goddammit, Aidan. Devan remained unable to initiate or finish his sentences, less even to inject any sense into them before they left his lips. What kind of curse has some evil being bestowed onto him? It was then that he remembered the package in his hand. Could it be this? What did I do to deserve this, Sheba?

“Yes, we do, quite well.” Mac said as he noticed her near Adeline; both their faces seemed to have traces of suspicion. “Aidan never mentioned anyone staying with his family this summer. What did you say your name was?”

“Adie…Mac, it’s okay. She’s a friend—”

“Wait, Emma, no!” Mac said while looking at the direction of the door. Nightfall veiled the outdoors, where a soul could barely be seen beyond the clean glass of the window. Orbs of white light from a wand’s tip littered across the small horizon, illuminating silhouettes of faces and figures. His eyes widened as they trained their focus on the package in his arms. Why did Sheba stop her shop operations before the regular closing time? She has never done that before. No, he might be too paranoid that he was overthinking. But what exactly is in this package? Since the time he received it, the events spiraled out of his control. He lifted the package to his left ear. There was a thin sound of humming coming from within, sharp and heartless that it tingled his eardrum. He pulled away, and resumed his anxious stare. What abomination existed in the box? He was not eager to open it.