RP: Halloween Masquerade

[shh_caradoc]

Date: 31 October 2005, (8-midnight)
Characters: Caradoc Dearborn, Irma Pince, Rita Skeeter, Ollivander, Hermione Granger, Roger Davies, Su Li, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Daphne Greengrass, Orla Quirke, Marietta Edgecomb, Katie Bell, Nymphadora Tonks, Vincent Crabbe, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Narcissa Malfoy, Rabastan

Comments

[shh_orla]

Enough was enough. Maybe it was the apartment getting to her, but Orla was finished being patient. She was tired of waiting for the things she wanted to come to her. Yes, she had lovely friends, but she wanted more. She wanted there to be a reason she threw her wedding ring in the river. Not just for closure to the past, but opening to the future. Well, right the mow the future seemed interminable, with nothing new happening unless she made it. She might only be 22, but she felt 80. She was happy for her friends, and what they'd found, but she couldn't keep waiting for it to come to her.

She dampened down inner protests about her, and intimacy, and sex, and love, and pulled out the white dress she'd found in New York. Complete with wings, flat shoes, and a mask, she was ready for the masquerade. She enlargened the feathers and elongated them, so they covered her hair which she'd secured up in a bun. She hardly recognized herself in the mirror. She remembered George's words: "The sooner I learned to ignore their bullshit and just do

[shh_marietta]

Marietta had hoped Michael would invite her to the Halloween Masquerade. A week before the party, when he'd still not invited her, she considered asking him herself, then got cold feet at the idea that he might tell her he was already going with someone else. It would only confirm what he'd already told her, that he was "seeing other people," and she didn't want to witness that first-hand. As long as she went alone, there was always a chance she would run into an unattached Michael. Besides, they didn't have an exclusive relationship, so there was no reason she shouldn't go to the masquerade on her own; who knew which fit wizards might be lurking about.

She decided early on go as a famous figure in wizarding history. When she couldn't quite figure out the right thing to wear, she went to Exeter and found several possibilities at a Muggle costume shop. She finally settled on a country wench costume, which would befit the publican of the favourite tavern in wizarding Britain

[shh_orla]

Orla saw the woman decked out as a bar wench approach and order a drink. She recognized Marietta's voice and smiled enigmatically.

"Yours as well. Any particular bar wench? Rosmerta?" She asked trying to pitch her voice to not be its usual mousy self. She sounded more confident if she did say so herself. Don't give a damn, don't give a damn...

[shh_marietta]

When the other woman replied, Marietta almost thought she recognised her voice. But this woman sounded a bit too self-possessed; it couldn't be who she thought it was, could it? At the woman's question, Marietta chuckled.

"No, not Rosmerta," she said, grinning. "A bit farther back than that. This is supposed to be a Renaissance costume. But yes, I'm supposed to be a publican, but not in Scotland. A bit closer to Stoatshead Hill, actually."

[shh_katie]

Choosing a costume had been a last minute event, her thoughts preoccupied with Quidditch nearly every waking hour. Katie was glad she had paid attention to the process the night before, otherwise she would have been limited to Cedric's choice. The first had been Cliodona, the Irish Goddess of Beauty, which to her seemed little more than an attempt to wear revealing clothing and look pretty. When she'd nixed that, he had suggested Circe, who had been on his first Chocolate Frog Card. She'd been considering it, amused by the idea he was willing to go as a beast she'd created from a former man, but had laughingly nixed it too when he had suggested with a wink she go shirtless like Circe appeared in so many pictures

[shh_tonks]

Tonks wouldn't lie, Halloween had to be one of her most favourite holidays. It was, first of all, a holiday that she never had to spend much time preparing for. One of the vast advantages of being a Metamorphmagus: she had always managed to have the nicest and best Halloween costumes. Then again, she may have been cheating just a wee bit.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she tried to figure out what to go as. She wrinkled her nose with each change, changing from a pig snout to a toucan's beak but nothing seemed to fit. Sighing, she decided to switch from birds and pigs to something a little more fun. Chewing on her lower lip, she concentrated on turning her face more cat-like, whiskers sprouting from her cheeks. Oh this would do quite nicely. Another wrinkle of her nose transfigured her ears to be a bit more cat-like as well. The last part was to transfigure some old clothes into something black. She managed to find a mask somewhere amidst the array of junk in her room. A simple spell turned it from glaring pink to black

[shh_vincent]

The decision to come to the masquerade had been one born of boredom for Vincent, though the appearance alone was rather distasteful. Though it was nothing like the Hammerside dance - again, couples seem to dominate, all in their coordinated costumes even this time. It caused his lip to curl in annoyance as he handed his cloak over to the women tending the front door. One of them went to admire the material of his costume, sniffing in annoyance as he pulled away simply offered a few galleons as a tip, and as protection for his outerwear. It was a community centre of all things, after all

[shh_orla]

Orla came out of the dancing room back towards the bar, needing some water, and maybe a small glass of mead. She saw the gentleman who caught her eye before, and she leaned against the bar, watching him. He seemed somewhat bored with everyone, and she entertained the thought that he might be waiting for some interesting company.

Meeting his eyes she raised her glass to him, wondering if he'd come over or if she needed to crook her finger. The thought made her smirk.

[shh_vincent]

Vincent had finished off his ale when he saw the woman down the bar from him. He didn't recognize her, but that meant nothing outside of she had done at least an adequate job at disguise. Dressed like a bird of sorts, she was issuing a more than obvious invitation with the way she kept staring, than raised her glass in a a salute, acknowledging the interest. He rolled his eyes, and asked the bartender for another ale. Delving into alcoholism he wasn't, but relaxation had it's merits

[shh_orla]

She didn't bother with an accent like Marietta, but kept the force behind her voice so it was confident and, she hoped, sulty. "Solitude might suit a seafaring man, but it hardly suits the party atmosphere."

She took another sip and set her glass back down, giving him a sideways look through her mask. "What, I don't look innocent enough to be a dove?" She had a teasing tone she rarely, if ever, took with strangers.

[shh_severus]

"You son of a bitch

[shh_remus]

The only reason Remus had agreed to the masquerade was the fact that Severus had agreed to the polyjuice. The idea to go as someone other than Gerent had relieved some of his worries. The last thing he needed was for Gilderoy or someone of that ilk to recognise Gerent and pounce. The Muggle Severus had chosen met with Remus' approval. They were roughly the same height but Severus' features had a distinctive spanish flair to them. It was a face Remus didn't quite mind looking at.

However, Severus really should have learned that one didn't turn their back on Remus. With a muttered spell, Severus' cloak was transfigured into that of a roman centurian. Remus' own robes were transfigured to look like an adult "Remus" of the founder of Rome fame.

"The name is Romulus for the night," Remus said with a smirk. "And I suggest you get used to being called Augustus for the rest of the night."

[shh_severus]

"I will kill you," Severus said, the expression in his eyes betraying his identity if anyone were looking at him closely enough. No one could glare daggers like Severus Snape. "I refuse to call you Romulus, nor will I answer to anything as pretentious as 'Augustus'."

He stared down at his bare legs, sticking out from underneath a Roman toga, in dismay. At least the Muggle of whom he was now a facsimile had decent calf muscles.

[shh_remus]

Lightly, Remus smacked Severus in the arm. "And if you keep glaring like that, someone's going to put two and two together. Now, do I really have to explain the need for the names? It's called a masquerade Augustus," Remus said, emphasizing the name, mostly to see the look on his lover's face.

"Besides, what do you care? It's not like they're your legs anyway."