Silver lettering on invitations throughout the castle fades, to be replaced by the tell-tale seven-pointed star. Beneath it, ‘Come, masked adventurers, to the gardens where the tall oak grows, for soon tolls the hour of a feast.’
Bengale Tiger stands just inside the gate, her open-mouthed tiger mask protruding from underneath her tightly wrapped hooded cloak. As people arrive, the mask itself forms a sort of grotesque smile, and the tall woman bows. “Welcome, welcome.” Some of the fairies in their rose bushes giggle and flutter their wings, but otherwise the rose gardens on this winter evening are currently quite silent. Once it appears everyone has assembled, she beckons to the long table, “I do hope a feast will make up for my long silence in matters of the S.E.A.”
Stalking Lioness comes through the southern gate from the School and gives a smile and nod to Bengale as she arrives. “This is absolutely beautiful,” she looks around, her blue eyes darting around to take in everything, though keeps her big heavy cloak kept tightly around her, and her hood over her head, which will help keep the heat in.
Fitzcordia comes quickly towards the Rose Gardens, almost dancing as she makes her way inward. “Hullo, Bengale,” the girl giggles and pauses just inside the entrance, waiting for Gabriel — or, well, Flicker — to catch up with her. Her mask has been remade since the first meeting, and now appears more as a kitten than a mask made of whiskers as it was before. Even still, the mask is heavy on whiskers, with a bright, smiling mouth below its pink nose. “Not many people here yet,” she comments, looking about. “Oh, look at the table Ga–Flicker!”
Nodding to ‘Fitzcordia’ in his dog-like mask, Flicker himself looks to the table with a grin. It was fantastic! Flicker couldn’t wait to find out what this meeting would entail, as he’d been excited for it ever since the last one, so long ago. “I wonder what we’re doing,” muses Gabe as he places a finger to his chin.
Juggle sneaks towards the gate of the garden, of course wearing his hooded black winter cloak and his bizarre monkey’s mask. He is one of the first to arrive, carefully looks for the setting of the feast and gives a faint nod to Bengale and the others. With his hands in his pockets, he keeps quiet and stands still next to his comrades.
Sophocles shyly follows a couple of other masked students, seemingly hesitating a bit before actually passing through the gate. What does he fear? The boy takes a big breath, and with both his hands, readjusts his mask on his face. Sophocles wasn’t there for the first S.E.A. meeting, though he had received the invitation parchment as well. He wasn’t keen on participating in anything suspicious after his adventures in the Library last year, but after he heard the rumours, he decided that it was just a game, and that he would give it a try. Following the instructions, he made a mask out of cardboard –a particularly impressive mask of tragedy, with a face expressing a mix of weeping and anger, something he saw in one of his father’s encyclopedias. And now, here he is. Sophocles walks forward, and nods to the other people already here, without saying a word, and waiting for someone to talk to him first.
The mask Turquoise wears has been altered since the previous meeting, such that he may not even be recognized unless the full name is remembered. For it now looks much, much more like a Sphinx, and a turqoise one at that, different shades of color forming the details around eyes and face. Along with this change, it has also been altered to leave his mouth free, covering his face from nose and up and curving down lower at the sides. From under this face Turqoise looks around the garden in surprise, turning to the masked face next to him to comment, “They’ve done a lot with this!”
Stalking Lioness finds a place to sit down at the table, but doesn’t touch anything yet. She reaches up and readjusts her mask, which covers her her forehead, eyes, most of her nose and comes down to either side of her mouth, leaving her mouth and chin open to eat. Out of the sides come whispers that belong to a lioness. She smiles at everyone who arrives and just takes in the beauty of the gardens, even at this evening hour and the cold of the winter.
Jack Harlequin stands off to the side, his mask still covering his face completely. Although the food looks delicious, he dares not show even an inch of skin, for fear of giving away his identity. This fear isn’t entirely unfounded, because he hasn’t met anyone in the school that fits his description. Besides, having a decent disguise is part of the experience.
“It’s a lot different than when we had tea here,” the girl admits, smiling from behind her yellow feathered mask. Persephone‘s mask has been improved as well, with perhaps a bit of help, and now looks very much like a canary’s mask. The top comes up over her forehead, and the feathers plume up above the hood of her cloak. An orange beak covers her nose, and the feathers fan out over her cheeks. This time, her mask even has room for eyes, though it doesn’t need a mouth hole, given that it stops at her nose, save for the feathers covering her cheeks. “I wonder what we’ll be doing tonight,” she asks, her voice even sounding excited as she makes her way towards the set table, taking a seat across from Stalking Lioness.
“Please, do take a seat, so that we may begin.” Again, the mask itself smiles, although her own lips are visible within that wooden expression. Bengale herself takes a seat not at the end but rather near the middle (but not precisely), and begins to look over the food. “They’ve really outdone themselves, I fear. Poor things, I wonder what they’ve got to eat up at the castle tonight.” A soft chuckle escapes. It isn’t a Feast night, of course, and it’s likely what they have here is a merely a precursor to what those who stay over the holidays will be dining upon. “I believe if you just tell your goblet what you’d like to drink it should fill, but of course the selection isn’t endless. Nothing we wouldn’t normally have, though perhaps–” she lifts hers and speaks to it–and it does, in fact, fill. “Ah, yes. Butterbeer is available.” What, letting children have mildly alcoholic drinks? Her? Possibly. “Well, my follow members of S.E.A, shall we dine?”
Stifling a yawn behind her generic white mask – which is, admittedly, a little less generic than last meeting, now possessed of a few sketches across the cheeks and hand-drawn decorations of that sort, a woman holding a knife featuring prominently across the cheeks and nose – Marie Jeanette makes her way into the garden. She looks about, hands on her hips – not defiantly, merely in apparent confusion – and offers to no one in particular, “Uh, someone changed it since last time I was here. That’s weird. Why would you put a feast in a rose garden?” Of course, she seems to forget about this point entirely as she approaches the table, standing awkwardly alongside it and waiting for someone to direct conversation to her.
As the others are beginning to take place at the table, which has been set up under the oak’s branches, Juggle also steps towards it and sits down. There is a good amount of distance between him and Stalking Lioness, which is sitting on the same side. Juggle looks over the bowls and plates and finally gets stuck at what seems to be a tiny corner of parchment under his plate. But he does not dare to examine it any longer as Bengale starts to speak. As he realises that he should also try to fill his goblet, lifts it and requests under his breath. “Uhm…water?”
“Eating of course!” Fitzcordia responds to Flicker’s comment with a bit of a giggle, bounding over to the table and taking a seat near the top end of it, near to where Bengale has taken her seat. No, Fitzcordia isn’t a suck-up, not at all. “Oh, what should I drink?” Fitzcordia asks her friend, and almost as if she had commanded it, her goblet fills with pumpkin juice. “Pumpkin juice it is,” she agrees happily, sipping from it, looking quite cheerful. “I do hope it’s something exciting. I’m in the mood for an adventure.”
“Yes!” Flicker replies cheerfully to Bengale as he sits down beside Briony and grabs his fork and knife, only to set them down again. He grabs his goblet, tipping it towards him and checking inside. Grinning, he sets the thing right again, instructing, “butterbeer!” to the cup. As it fills up, Gabe looks to Bri– to Fitzcordia and points to the goblet. “She wasn’t lying,” he points out with a laugh.
Turquoise slips into a seat beside Persephone, taking a moment to look not at the decorations but at some of the other objects added to the garden. “There’re games set up, look.” He waves his hand toward an archway, then the brooms, completely ignoring the ladder and tree. “But it looks like dinner first..” Hearing Bengale, he smiles, quickly directing his own glass to fill with butterbeer. Shouldn’t ever pass up a good oportunity after all.
Stalking Lioness takes the goblet at the seat she is at and has it fill with butterbeer as she loves the drink actually. When Bengale allows them all to eat, she does indeed, enjoying the meal that is provided for them by the house elves of the castle. Hearing about games, she smiles as she looks at the table. “Ooo, some of them look like fun. But alas, food!” she begins to eat, basicaly ham with mashed potatoes, rolls and some of the fresh vegetables that is provided.
Persephone does this, too, for, really, who would pass up the opportunity for Butterbeer, especially on a non-Hogsmeade weekend. “I wonder what kinds of games they’ll be,” she muses, taking a slow sip of her butterbeer while glancing around at the filling table. The spread was really lovely, and Persephone was thoroughly enjoying the enchantment that the Rose Gardens now held for her. “I’m so glad I remade my mask,” she comments quietly. “It would have been very out of place now, with all these wonderful new masks. It looks like a lot of people worked hard on them.” She giggles a bit, as she spots Marie Jeannette’s.
Sophocles takes a seat at the table, near another student wearing a monkey mask. He takes some time looking at the people surrounding him, trying to guess who is hiding behind the masks. His attention shifts towards Bengale, who seems to be the person in charge tonight. When she mentions Butterbeer, he lets out a small laugh. “Butterbeer, uh? I must have that.” he says, not wanting to miss that occasion. He laughs quietly at the boy with the monkey mask who ordered “water”, before muttering the name of the drink –and instantly, the glass starts filling itself. “A dinner… it’s better than a tea, isn’t it?” he says to the people surrounding him, before looking at the games pointed out by Stalking Lioness. “Impressive…”
No one’s talking to Marie Jeanette. Is that possible? Well, she can’t have that, now can she? Folding her arms across her chest – and here her defiance comes in, a little – she sits herself down next to someone, anyone. And for the record, it is a very nicely drawn girl with a big knife on her mask, amidst other sketches. At least, in her mind. Sighing a little, she turns to whoever she happens to now be sitting with, offering, “It’s lovely in here, isn’t it? Do you think it’s true that usually people only come to the rose garden to do sweetheartly things? I mean, everyone talks about it, but I know I don’t do things like that.” Of course, last time she was here, she was kicking the tree.
Bengale Tiger takes for herself one of the pot-pies with a little pastry turkey atop it, and then calls down the line, “Juggle, could you pass that squash in front of you, please? I’d love to try some of it.” While she waits, she takes a good swig–yes, a swig– of her drink, careful not to get any of it on her mask. It might start to smell. Bengale seems relatively at ease eating a feast amongst a bunch of, well, children, for all that she’s not the most social of professors. “After dinner there will be games, of course, although I may need to sneak you one by one back into the castle if we’re out here late enough.” She says this casually, looking up and down the table.
Juggle begins to load carrots, potatoes and cabbage onto his plate and takes a sip of water before starting his meal. “Mhm.” is the only comment he would give about the mentioned games with a mouthful of vegetables. Turning his head further than normally to be able to see properly through the eyeholes he faces Sophocles and greets him with a short wave. Having cleared his mouth again, he turns to Marie Jeanette and answers. “Yes, you just have to look at the tree. The brutes have carved their initials into it.” As Bengale asks for the squash in front of him, Juggle instantly grabs it and hands it over. “Sure.” he adds with a smile, feeling a bit more comfortable right now.
Giggling as Bengale says this, Fitzcordia can’t help but choke a bit on her pumpkin juice. “Imagine, being snuck into school so we won’t get into trouble!” The excitement in her voice is ill hidden and she starts piling food onto her plate. Always glad for suppertime, this one. “Look at that, oooh, that looks good,” she comments as the squash is passed past her. She reaches out and takes two croissants, as well as some of the various meats that are on the table. Soon Fitzcordia‘s plate is piled high, and she is starting to eat through it happily. “S’good, innit, Ga– er, Flicker.”
Gaping a little at Bengale, Flicker raises an eyebrow (even if it’s not visible behind his mask) and looks away quickly, unsure as to whether or not she’s kidding. Peering around the table, Gabe wonders who, exactly, else is here. Likely Rafe was behind one of those masks. Were his sisters here? The anonymity was rather fun, but a bit unsettling, too. Well, at least he had Briony. “So good,” Flicker agrees. “Will the games be played in teams?” Flicker asks no one in particular, though he is looking in Bengale’s direction.
Riamh wears a mask that is vageuly human shaped, but also rather covered in clocks. All of them tell something, but time is not it. On her left cheek, there is a clock with a hand pointing to ‘dinner time’, and on her right, one that points to ‘possibility of trouble’. A miniature cuckoo bird hands from somewhere under her hood, and what is visible of the forehead is a rotating image of the sky–including the phase of the moon. The mask parts are a polished maghoney in color, and the bottom (with a border of roman numerals and clock hands) opens up to reveal her mouth. Despite the black cape, much of Riamh‘s hair is visible.
Stalking Lioness smiles at Marie Jeanette at her speaking. “Yes, it is very lovely. I don’t know, I’ve been too busy to contemplate sweetheartly things.” Okay, actually she does, but her love is also busy as much as her, and isn’t here, so it isn’t fair to speak of him there. “But when everything is bloom I would probably come here just to sit and think, and study. It’s beautiful here when everything is in bloom.”
Reaching first for some ham, then scalloped potatoes, and so on through the different types of dishes, Turquoise offers each to Persephone and after that, to the others around him, answering as he does so, “I don’t know.. I’m sure it will be a lot of fun, though.” Pausing as he reaches the vegetables, he leans over to address Marie Jeanette, “I don’t know, miss.. I only come here to teach my owl tricks.” Of course, he glances at Persephone after saying this, though his expression is lost behind the mask except for the less-than-serious smile.
“I kicked that tree once,” Marie Jeanette observes, piling her own plate high with foodstuffs of various sorts, apparently not paying much attention to precisely what she is putting on her plate. “Not because of the initials on it,” she clarifies after a moment. “Just because I was in a bad mood and thought the universe needed a good kicking.” Precisely why that tree in particular needed kicking remains unknown as she concludes that the food on her plate is sufficient and begins to eat – well, sort of begins to eat, apparently only now taking note that the mouth of her mask is too small for any but the tiniest bites, so she is reduced to eating like a bird. What a dilemma. A pause, and she turns to Stalking Lioness. “Really? I have a sweetheart too. I never even thought of that. Not that I’m going to start now!” The last sentence is added at a rush, like almost an afterthought, and then she devotes her attention back to cutting up her food into really small bites.
“Owl tricks, yes, of course,” Persephone echoes, stifling a bit of a giggle, as she gives a toothy smile, despite her crooked teeth. These are rare, and it’s very possible that the mood of the evening has just set her into a very pleasant mood, ignoring her usual hesitations. She takes bits of this, some of that, a role here, a croissant as well, nodding as Stalking Lioness comments about it being in bloom. “There’s this yellow and white one just over the way that I really like, and it’s even more in bloom now than when I was here the other da–” Persephone stops herself short. “Well, it’s more in bloom than it was before, which is unusual. It’s all very lovely.” The blush is hidden by the yellow feathers on her cheeks, but Persephone looks down at her plate taking a bite of food, shaking her head at her own chattery mouth.
Bengale Tiger takes the squash and piles some of it on her plate before passing it along. “Well, I’m sure,” as she ought to know, “that a lot of care is taken to make sure there’s something in bloom year round. Except of course for the roses, which always are. Special variety.” Oh dear. Lucky for the students, Bengale is hungrier than she is eager to divuldge information about the various plants, and begins cutting into her pot pie. “Most of the games are at least for teams, yes.” She’s so chatty, it must be weird for the students to think of her as the same person she is in class… and the halls… and if they accidentally run into her at the Leaky Cauldron over the summer.
Of course, Fitzcordia doesn’t recognize who Bengale is, though she ought to have by now. “Oh, team games. You’ll have to be on my team, Flicker,” Fitzcordia demands. No, she doesn’t ask, but when has she ever actually asked if he wanted to do something? “I’m sure we’ll win,” she comments, before starting to eat her second croissant, still looking very cheerful. The whiskers on her mask seem to twitch constantly as she eats and giggles.
Turning to Persephone with what could be a skeptical expression if her mask wasn’t concealing it so, Marie Jeanette looks her over and then turns back to her plate. “Don’t sound so suspicious,” she instructs the other girl pompously. “You should either say something or say nothing.” And she’s not a hypocrite for her part, either, is she? She takes another few tiny bites of her dinner, spearing potato on the end of her fork and nibbling at it awkwardly. Stupid masks and mouths.
Riamh has taken an awful lot of vegetables, but also several thick slices of what appears to be duck, and is busy munching along on it. She looks down the line at Jack and raises, invisibly, one of her eyebrows, as a clock hand moves from ‘dinner time’ to ‘butting in on other people’s business’ (in very tiny script). “Why didn’t you make a mouth-hole in your mask, Harlequin?” Nosy nosy.
Stalking Lioness nods to Marie. “Yes, well my sweetheart isn’t here, so I won’t really be talking much about it. It isn’t fair really… Why did you kick the tree? that wasn’t very nice to the tree.” She continues to eat a few more bites. “This is all really wonderful. So what are you going to do for the holidays? Going home to see your parents?”
“We’ll win if it involves running,” Flicker notes. “You think I’m fast on my broom, I’m an even faster runner. Like remember when I told you I ended up in Ireland once?” he inquires, tilting his head, “Well one time I ran to Africa and back in order to pick a violet for my mum,” he says with a boyish laugh. “Anyways, yes, we’ll be on the same team,” he agrees, taking another drink of Butterbeer. If only his mother knew!
Grinding her teeth together, Marie Jeanette does not look up at Stalking Lioness for a long moment, distracting herself by cutting her dinner up until really tiny pieces. “I’m trying to avoid it.” She eventually replies. “I was angry because my mother wants me to come home for Winter Break, and I don’t want to go so I need a really good reason not to. I don’t like spending time with her anymore, not since my father left.” And she looks up again, glaring at Stalking Lioness as if daring her to continue the line of questioning. “I’m not hungry anymore, never mind.”
“Hmph,” is all Persephone says in response to Marie Jeanette, taking a bite of potatoes. “Oh, I’m going to visit — er, well — someone very important.” It appears to be more difficult than she had originally thought for Persephone to keep her identity a secret. “It’s going to be a very good holiday for me, I think.” The girl chats to her companion, in his Sphinx-esque mask as she finishes up her supper, looking rather cheerful, despite Marie Jeanette’s comments to her.
Juggle leans back, after he has finished his meal with one of the delicious pies offered for dessert. As he bends forward again, he nudges his plate accidentally and a small piece of parchment pops up. His eyes shoot towards Bengale, not knowing what to do. “Ahm…sorry.” is the only thing he could think of. He remains pondering if he should hide it under the plate again or hold it up and decides to leave it as it is, eyeing the others.
Stalking Lioness is now silent. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.” She turns her attention to finishing her meal, not wanting to ask Marie Jeanette any other questions in order to make her more upset. She now her food is the most interesting thing that she can pay attention to, but soon her plate is empty and she doesn’t want to have anything else, minus desert, if there is any.
All lonely and unloved-like, – or, y’know, not – there’s another hooded figure edging towards the food table. Her mask? A disgustingly feminine butterfly-based creation. That’ll trick them all, definitely. “Do rose bushes have feelings?” Psyche pipes up after a moment, catching Lioness’ comment. Her brows furrow behind her mask, thoughtfully, but otherwise just picks at the plate she’s gathered food on. “Holidays are coming, aren’t they? This term has gone on forever.”
“Sure you did, Flicker,” Fitzcordia responds almost absent-mindedly to his claims and finishes off her supper. Ah, time for dessert! Fantastic! “I can run faster than you, and you know it,” the girl retorts to her friend, pushing her plate away from her a bit, as if to say ‘I’m finished here’. She grins at Flicker and glances around at the others at the table, many of whom seem to be finishing up. “Feelings? I never… er, I never thought they would.” Fitzcordia actually looks perplexed at the idea of this.
For once in his life, Flicker doesn’t really even want dessert. He just wants to start the games! “You can’t run faster, B-augh! These names are too hard! Fitz,” he catches himself, with a laugh. “We’ll race one day, I’ll show you,” he continues, grabbing a clean fork and awaiting the final course, planning to bolt it down when it comes.
As the group finishes the main course, the remaining food (what little there is) disappears with a quiet ‘pop’! in much the fashion in tends to in the Great Hall. Then appears the varitey of deserts, as well as the bags, one for each place setting. Bengale smiles down the table at Juggle while selecting a particularly tall slice of really, really chocolate cake. “Don’t mind that, it’s for after the feast.” She doesn’t seem to mind, continuing on-”Some rose bushes do have feelings, but they’re all alive and should be treated as such.” Ahem.
“I’m frankly glad,” Marie Jeanette informs Psyche, pushing her chair back from the table and folding her arms. “I don’t want to go home for Winter Break – or Easter Break – and I intend to find somewhere else to be over the summer, too, if possible. I don’t know what I’m going to do for Break, though. I was going to stay here at Hogwarts, but I’m going to be all alone.” Sulky, grumpy Marie Jeanette.
Stalking Lioness smiles as she sees all the deserts show up. It takes her a moment for her to decide what to take, and so she first decides to take the chocolate mousse wit the strawberries, eyeing the chocolate cake if she still wants it after the mousse. Taking the first bite, she closes her eyes and gives a soft, content sigh at the taste and begins to eat the rest, and the strawberries as well.
“You’re on,” Fitzcordia agrees, looking with bright eyes down at the desserts that adorn the table now. “Ooooh, look at that,” she comments, unsure of where to start. Finally, she decides on the ice cream, piling on almost more toppings than she has gotten ice cream, and begins eating it, quite cheerfully. Indeed, the whiskers seem to twitch even harder as she eats this than they have already, though it could just be from the cold. “Oh, this is so good,” she comments aloud as she finishes her ice cream, rather quickly, and leans back in her seat, looking quite comfortably full, though she eyes the chocolate cake very carefully.
Psyche plucks a piece of fruit from a dish with a contented little smile, at least until Marie mentions going home. “Would your mother really let you do that?” she asks, head tilted to one side, “I’d think mine would go ballistic. Well, gently ballistic, anyway.” The irony is unbearable. As for rose bushes, the girl nodnods in Bengale’s direction. “I think out loud sometimes,” she comments, nibbling at her fruit. “But most of the plants around here are more or less normal, right? No biting or sentient-ish stuff?”
Marie Jeanette offers a small, humourless laugh in response to Psyche, glancing at the younger girl (and apparently entirely not realising that they are talking about the same woman). She doesn’t make any move to eat dessert, her appetite apparently entirely gone. “Of course my mother wouldn’t let me. That’s why I have to make up some good reason. I’ll tell her that, that, that someone invited me to spend Christmas with them ’cause they like me so much. Or that a prefect asked me to stay at Hogwarts over Break so we could have a special party. Or something. I’ll work it out.”
Flicker has already finished his chocolate cake, despite its having been in front of him only one or two minutes. “Yeah, good,” he says, wanting to stand up and get things started. “But we can’t race now, because I’m too full,” he warns. Such a race would need to capture him at his peak, obviously. “When are the games starting?” he asks Bengale. Boy, one-track mind or what?
“I should hope none of the plants around here bite!” Persephone comments, putting her hand over her mouth in a bit of shock at the thought. No, it had not before occurred to her that some of the plants in the rose garden could be dangerous. For her own, Persephone has taken a bit of spice cake, as well as a baked apple and a bit of candy, and is slowly working her way through the cake as she listens to the conversation going on around her. For her part, she had never expected that when she was invited to join the S.E.A that she’d be treated to a feast and some games, rather she assumed that more adventures would be had, dangerous things that she wouldn’t actually want to do.
Bengale Tiger chuckles, and it comes out sort of low and rumbly, which is odd. “No, in these gardens the plants just sit around and grow. With a bit of magical help, of course, or I imagine they would all be dead by now.” She finishes up her cake and her butterbeer, and then leans back. “I imagine that once everyone has had their fill, we can begin the games, Flicker.” Hah. If you had told Bengale when she was a first year dreaming of becoming a teacher that she would address anyone by the name of Flicker, she would have called you a loony. To the general populace, “Those bags are so that you can take some of these treats back with you. After all, there’s a bit much to eat at this moment.”
Stalking Lioness looks over at Bengale when she speaks, having had her mousse and enjoyed greatly. Hearing the bags were to be used to take what she wants away from the feast, she smiles and opens it to take a few items that she will want later on up at her dorms. There are several items she takes, but then closes the bag so she can take it later, hoping she’ll remember.
“Best idea ever,” Psyche informs Bengale, happily beaming behind her mask. “I suppose the Hogwarts staffpeople would all get in trouble if some of the plants out here were dangerous and someone got hurt.” Still, Marie’s words catch her attention again, and she claps softly. “Good for you, as long as it works. I hope it does? Oooh, games.” Attention span… where?
Although apparently in a rather bad mood, Marie Jeanette has enough sense to fill a bag for herself with considerable amounts of transportable desserts, on the assumption that she would rather regret it if she let her annoyance get in the way of eating her fill of lovely sweet things that most people are not permitted. When full, she twists the top of the bag closed and slips it into her robes. Then, she turns her attention back to Psyche, shrugging her shoulders lightly. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t work – I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? I’m not there when she picks up Cass and Lenore from the station, and I get a Howler in the morning?” Oh, good one, kid. Nice anonymity there.
While not particularly looking forward to the games for her part, Persephone knows Evan likes games, and she does start to eat a bit more quickly, tucking the baked apple discreetly into the bag for nibbling on later. She chuckles a bit as she hears the boy nearby wax poetic about how excited he is about the games. The girl says little, though she has finished her bit of spice cake now, and sits back neatly in her chair, not really caring that the hood of her sweater has fallen off and her blonde hair is now visible behind the fanned feathers.
Oh wow the shock! Cas– Psyche‘s eyes widen significantly, and her mouth is open to announce this revelation when something absolutely brilliant occurs to her instead. “You should bribe your sisters into helping you,” she suggests sagely, “get them to cover for you and lend credibility to your story. Well, maybe not Lenore – I’ve met her, I think. The other one, though.” She considers her words for effect and then nods thoughtfully. “You should give them candy, or something. Kids love that.” Evidence to this statement? The way she’s carefully arranging stuff in her bag so as to fit the maximum possible food in.
“I wonder what the games are going to be,” Fitzcordia asks Flicker, chewing quite contentedly on a bit of caramel she has left from her ice cream, and finally finishing her dish of dessert. Hearing Marie Jeanette speak, however, Fitzcordia‘s attention is brought to the person sharply. No, it couldn’t be. But it had to be. Yes, Fitzcordia has a very strong idea who that person must be. The girl, spotting that others are now stuffing their little bags full of goodies, follows in suit and begins to fill the bag with as much sweets as will fit inside it. After all, she’s a growing girl, and she does like her sweets.
Bengale Tiger just lets the students talk for awhile while she mumurs a few preservative spells over some of the deserts to place in her own bag. It’s a bit disturbing how many domestic spells the woman knows. This done, however, she announces, “Alright, as Juggle discovered, there is a bit of parchement underneath your plates. On it are instructions for a scanvenger hunt. You should work in groups.” The mask has a bit of a sinister look, although it still smiles, and Bengale‘s own lips form a mild smirk. “If you don’t wish to participate, there are a few other games to play, although I’m quite willing to stay up until an incredibly improper hour while you all enjoy yourselves. It is, after all, very nearly Christmas.”
“I dunno. Cass’s a bit… eh, I dunno if any amount of bribery would actually make her lie to our mother.” Well, for all that Marie Jeanette has a practically encyclopedic knowledge of things that she wants to know about, she is painfully thick about certain things, up to and including recognising her own sister. Of course, she isn’t actually paying very much attention, her attention flickering back to Bengale’s words, shoving her plate aside and locating the indicated parchment. “Ooh…. who wants to be with me? Huh?!”
Stalking Lioness listens to Bengale when she speaks, and so lifts up her plate in order to see what the parchment said. “Groups?” she looks around to see who might want to be in her group to go find things. Some of them she already has ideas for what these riddles might be talking about.
“Oh, you can be with me and Flicker, if you want,” Fitzcordia volunteers, hearing Marie’s exclaimation. the girl stands and yanks at Flicker to stand with her, giggling a bit. Yes, Fitzcordia appears to be very excited as she picks up her parchment from under the plate and looks it over. “Oh, a scavenger hunt. We’ll win this one!” She holds her copy of it up, standing near to Flicker as she looks around to see if anyone is joining her group.
About to protest Marie’s dismissal of her sister’s ability to lie for fun and candy, Psyche is momentarily distracted by Bengale’s announcement. “I need a team, too,” she offers, then perks up. Must convince Marie. “I’ll go with you?” she offers. “Anyway, I think you should give it a try. If you don’t, and it turns out she would have helped, you could regret it if things fall through somehow.” But looklookparchment! “I’ll go with anyone who wants me tagging along, really.”
“But, look, it says ‘pairs or trios’…” Marie Jeanette points out, gesturing to the piece of parchment. “So if I go with Flicker and Fitzcordia, I can’t go with you as well, kid..” Evidently, her inability to recognise her own sister spreads as far as her own housemates, too, apparently entirely unable to recognise the nice couple that offered to let her in on their group – and perhaps, if she did recognise them, she’d be all the more eager to join Psyche instead. “Um. Um, um, um. Are you any good at riddles? I’m not.”
Riamh‘s bag is somewhat riduclously bulgy, although as she collected the girl murmured things about “Da’ll love that, hope it doesn’t go bad fast.” and such. She pulls the parchement from under the plate and unfolds it carefully, as one of the hands on her mask points toward ‘Insatiably curious’ (which, for this girl, is often the case). Surveying the group, she spies out Psyche, “Hmm, she seems to have a group, how about me?” Since the person with the mouthless mask hadn’t ever replied. “I’m D– I’m Riamh. Means something about time, I think, which I thought was good because I’ve all the clocks. My grandfather, who is a muggle, makes them.” Which, as she sleeps in the same dorms as Psyche and likely has a lot of clock things, sort of gives her a bit away.
At this announcement, Persephone stands, taking her parcment with her and looking it over. Oh, riddles. Persephone isn’t all that good at them. However, she is in exceptionally good spirits, so she seems to set off straight away, poking around at some of the flowers as if trying to find things without even discussing things with her teammate, who, presumably is Evan, though he hasn’t exactly caught up with her yet.
Psyche examines the parchment for a moment, then wrinkles her nose. “Well, I’m going to give it a good try. Just going to have to hope that’s enough.” she replies to Kelly, although perhaps just from sheer lack of familiarity she’s a little lost for most of the answers. Recognising Riamh, though, she flashes the girl a smile. “It’s a pretty name, too. I’m Psyche.” Well, she is for the moment. “It’s a reference to a Muggle goddess, I think. I just chose it because it matched the mask.” She beams, though. “I’ll go with you, though, as long as you don’t mind or anything?”
Riamh smiles, mouth completely visible (smudge round her lips from some mousse and all). “Well I asked you, so of course I don’t mind–how about the first one — ‘all in gold?’ She looks about, “I’d say our plates but they don’t seem very flighty. Do you think we could throw one on the air or use a hovering charm on it?”
“I’m alright at them. I do love them. Let’s see… Flighty item, all in gold.” Fitzcordia puts her hand to her chin in thought. Indeed, this is the same pose which she would often strike while they were on hunts to solve mysteries. “What do you think it is, Marie Jeanette?” Fitzcordia asks, looking down the list. “Silvery circle, scarlet plume, hmmm. This is hard!” The girl looks about. “Maybe the plume is one of the flowers? Do you think it might be its name?”
“Well, a plume is a feather, o’course.” Marie Jeanette replies knowingly, planting her hands on her hips, apparently content to believe that she can lead the adventuring. “Well, uuuusually. Usually, I think it refers to a feather sticking out of someone’s hat. Does anyone we know wear a stupid hat? Maybe they took the stupid feathered hat and put it somewhere to find. Or, I don’t know, maybe not.” A pause, and she looks around. “Well, a circle for telling time has to be like, a silver pocketwatch or something. The problem’ll be finding it – it has to be outside somewhere, right, so it has to be a little pocket watch, not something big…” She kicks at the ground idly, unsure of where to start looking.
Stalking Lioness finds herself a partner and they head off to go find the items that are on the parchment. “Bengale, are all the items here in the garden?” she pauses before the tiger to see if they have to leave the area just to find the items.
Bengale Tiger has taken position on the swing to watch and answer questions. “Well, they should be.” Another rumbly chuckle. “I don’t think they’re liable to have taken off.” Hint, hint. She kicks off a bit, actually making use of the swing. “For some items, you might look around at what we’ve got in order for an idea of how to find them.” Yes, her mask seems frozen in a mischevious, tigery grin.
Psyche beams at Riamh, and apparently just figures that the other girl has x-ray vision and can see the expression. “I dunno. If it’s in the air and it’s gold, even if it’s not the right object it fits the description, right?” She pauses a long moment, then, eying her piece of parchment some more. “So are you Muggleborn, or is it just your grandfather? Only, only, do you have a pence?” Yes, she’s clueless.
Riamh wrinkles her nose, “Oh, no, my parents were both magic, but my mother’s parents… and my Aunt, at that, are Muggles. Didn’t have to explain to them about Hogwarts though, since my mother went. My other grandparents are magical but I think I have some great grandparents or great great ones that were muggles or muggle born… or half bloods… or maybe it was pure.” She frowns a bit. Actually it’s a combination of them all, “Anyway, I’ve known about magic my whole life and I haven’t got a pence, though I know they’re sort of small round coins–different colors and sizes depending on how many pence the piece is worth-fifty or ten or somesuch.” She kneels, rooting about. “Seems a shame to throw it on the ground, though.”
At this announcement, Persephone stands, taking her parcment with her and looking it over. Oh, riddles. Persephone isn’t all that good at them. However, she is in exceptionally good spirits, so starts nosing around, peeking under tablecloth and chair, in hopes of stumbling across something that fits the clues. “Have you found anything?” she asks a person nearby while looking down into a daisy curiously.
“Oh, a feather, that makes sense,” Fitzcordia admits, nodding and glancing around through the garden, where many people are already starting to look for the things listed in the riddles. “Flighty item, all in gold…” Fitzcordia comes back to, resting her hand on the back of her hood, on top of her head. “Could that be — oh, I’m sure I know — that has to be a snitch!” she decides with sudden inspiration. “Help me look for it! Flicker, you go that way! And I’ll go this way, and you, Marie Jeanette, you can go that way.” Fitzcordia sprints off, skirting around a duo to rustle about near the flowers.
For her part, Marie Jeanette dives straight into a rosebush, peering about for something sparkly. What happens, of course, is that her robes get caught on thorns and her skin gets a bit scratched up, and her hood eventually just falls off her head – <3 KP & RD <3, indeed, the things people write on their masks – so her copper hair gets tangled as well, but she’s quite certain that there’s something to find in here, somewhere. Somewhere. Come on, sparkly things…
Psyche nods thoughtfully, then also goes to ground to search for one of these coins. “So we’re looking for money, then. Hmm. Do you think we get to keep them if we find them?” She considers this a moment, then industriously turns to her search. So much for prissy and feminine, which was the impression she was trying to go for with that mask. “In the meantime, I’m not sure about the pearl part but the thorn-kepy beauty absolutely has to be a rose. A white one, maybe? Are Muggle relatives fun to have?” She’s just curious.
Not noticing Marie Jeanette’s adornment on her forehead, Fitzcordia crawls about, looking for a snitch. Where-oh-where could it be hiding? Then — she sees it! Up in the air, hovering just above a plant nearby, she reaches out to grab it, but it is too quick for her. Picking up her hand, she is amused to find a pence on it. “Hey, Marie Jeanette, is this one of the things on the list?” She asks, running back to her groupmate and holding the pense in her extended hand. “Do you think that’s the muggle pence?”
Marie Jeanette extracts herself from the shrubbery, peering at the extended coin. “It’s called a penny, stupid. Two of them bought you an interlude with a prostitute in Whitechapel. Well, not you personally.” Without offering any further explanation, she shrugs her shoulders lightly and gets lost in the greenery again. “Ow! Stupid plant things! It’s eating my hair, I swear.”
Riamh picks up — “…Has someone lost a marble?” She pockets that, on second thought, and crawls underneath one of the chairs set up by a chess table, hopefully with nobody on it, and then back out again. Pulling herself up, she seeks out Psyche, “I didn’t find anything but a marble, and I’m pretty sure that’s not anything.” She wanders a bit, “It’s regular, I guess. I do love to watch my grandfather tinker with clocks, but sometimes my other grandfather comes back with stories about his job where he’s had to undo really amazing spells that went bad, and that’s good too–say, isn’t one of the clues to climb? There’s a ladder against the tree.”
Psyche tilts her head thoughtfully, looking up from her search. “A marble? What colour is it? Is it white? Tell me it’s white. That’d make it pearl-like, and it’s in the rose garden, which has thorns!” It’s worth a try, anyway. “So you get the best of both worlds, right? I dunno – your clocks are nice.” Ooh, and she’s full of ideas right now. “Are any of them silver–ladder? Where? Ooooh. You want to climb and search, or should I?”
Yes, there is no doubting with whom Fitzcordia is trying to work. Fitzcordia doesn’t deign to respond to the comments about hookers or calling her stupid. No, instead, Fitzcordia slips the pence into her pocket and stands up straight. Now, for the snitch! She glances up at the sky, not seeing it to start, but she does recall the brooms. Yes, Flicker had pointed them out in the start! She glances around. No, nobody else at the brooms just now. She quickly runs over to the line of brooms and demands that one of them come UP! Her voice is so forceful that more than one rises, and she gets onto it, bucking a little uncertainly as she flies on an unfamiliar broom.
Stalking Lioness tries searching for a bit, but sighs as she enjoys watching the others hunt through the gardens. She just doesn’t feel like hunting for everything right now. She finds her seat back at the table and watches everyone participate. At one point she gets up to check out the other games set out, but then returns to her seat to continue watching and see who wins.
Bengale Tiger swings so slightly it’s more like rocking back and forth, waiting for people to come forth with their finds. A genuine smile surfaces as Fitzcordia takes to the skies and the partnership of Psyche/Riamh explores the possiblity of climbing. That was more like it, doing things in a trickier way. “Poor Marie, I hope she finds it for her trouble,” murmurs the woman aloud, which like as not sets several more people digging through the thorn-laden busehs. The fairies within them squeal in their high pitched voices, and some seek shelter in the branches of the oak or atop arches.
“AHA!” Marie Jeanette‘s voice can be heard from amidst the shrubbery, and she eventually removes herself from the bushes, a pearl held between her fingers. Admittedly, her hands are all scratched up and her hair looks like a bird’s next, but she has the pearl. “I found it, Fitz!” She cries out, seeking the girl with wide eyes. “Oh, right. Oh, well, what else can I find?” She relocates her parchment, peering at each item in turn. “A silver circle… who would be stupid enough to leave one of those in the garden?” She offers out loud, almost in horror. “What happens if no one finds it? It’d get ruined?! I better find it quick.”
Riamh is halfway up the ladder before Psyche has the full question out, and calls, “I think I will! I’ve practice.” This is said in a very self-assured voice as she clambers out onto the branch. “None of my clocks are silver, no!” she shouts back down, carefully pulling herself up to height–”What does the parchment say is up here? It’s really dark, there’s no lamps or anything.”
Psyche unrolls her sheet, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. “Dark? Hm. It’s ‘one missing Queen’ you’re looking for. Which makes absolutely no sense to me, I’m afraid. Umm… maybe just feel around and see what you touch?” This is called loudly enough, but having caught one of the other people getting on a broom, her sister in some bushes, and such she figures secrecy isn’t worth it. Instead, then, she returns to searching for a penny, though now around the base of the tree. And, eventually… “I found a coin, Riamh! When you get down you’ve gotta tell me if it’s right?”
Fitzcordia is not a seeker, and she isn’t used to being in the air trying to spot the little golden thing, especially on a broom that she isn’t used to flying. The flight is a bit rough and she bucks around a bit, having apparently gotten an ornery broom. “That’s goooood, Marie!” she calls, and holds onto the broom tightly, crossing her ankles, in hopes that it will better keep her on the broom. “C’mon, broom, c’mon,” she says to the bucking broom, trying to steady herself so that she can spot the flying golden orb, which she has only spotted once, and not yet since.
Eyes downturned, Marie Jeanette inspects the ground for some hint of a pocketwatch on the ground, any kind of hint of where it could be, and as a result she doesn’t notice where she’s going and actually walks right into the gate. Oh. Handy. This is the first time she looks up, and she seems entirely surprised for a moment – then, victorious, she grabs at the feather and jumps up eagerly, clapping her hands together joyfully. “I found another one! Aren’t I excellent!”
Riamh fishes about, sticking her hand in a spider web, which she shakes off nonchalantly, a squirrel hole (there’s a bit of angry chittering and shouting as Riamh pulls herself to a different branch), and finally a bird’s nest. It being December, however, the nest is empty–except for a few shells and a white marble queen, who says, “Oh, good show my dear, but shouldn’t you have gotten a Knight to climb this tree for you?” Silly chess pieces and their one-track minds. Knowing better, Riamh still responds, “I’m Knight enough, thank you.” which gets no return response. Down she clambers, holding the little Queen aloft. “Look, Psyche!–oh, that is one. I think it’s a 10.”
“Good show!” Fitzcordia calls, spotting the snitch again as it hovers near an outer branch. She flies gently towards it, coaxing the broom slowly, slowly, until she’s within arm’s reach, and she snatches at it, missing the first time, but throwing her other hand out and grabbing it, closing her fist around it while throwing her chest at the front of her broom, which bucks a little more and flies down to the ground. She jumps off of it, unsteadily landing and sumbling a bit, but managing to stay on her feet. The stubborn broom flies over to where the other brooms are lined up, and Fitzcordia doesn’t let go of her grip on the snitch. “Look, I got it!” she calls to Marie, beaming.
Psyche whoops loudly, applauding Riamh. “That’s two! Three if we can make the plate fly and convince Bengale that it counts.” She bounces a little on the balls of her feet, and in her enthusiasm her hood falls back most of the way. Oh, well. As long as her sister remains oblivious, she doesn’t mind. “We’re a pretty good team, aren’t we?” And then she spots Fitzcordia, and pouts a little. “A snitch – of course. Ahh, well. A plate it is, for us. Unless you’re good at flying and there’s another one somewhere?” It’s worth a try; somehow she doubts it, though.
“Only two more things left to find, I think!” Marie Jeanette calls out in response, peering down at the ground again and inspecting it for any sign of a pocketwatch. Here, watchy watchy watchy… here, watchy watchy watchy… “Hey,” she calls out after a while, peering about. “How come I have to find everything?” Because two items on the list is now ‘everything’, of course. “Can’t Flicker find something, huh?”
Bengale Tiger bites her lip, holding in a laugh as the searches continue, even as snow begins to fall. It isn’t too late as of yet, though dinner time in the castle is surely long since past.
Riamh hops a bit, “Oh, well, we’ll just have to get a plate to fly, I don’t think there would be more than one of those.” One of her clocks now points to ‘Barely Escaped Mortal Danger’ and the other to ‘Nearing Curfew’. The cuckoo bird hangs a bit forlorn. “We got two, though, and maybe there’s another… is that a feather? Somewhere.”
“I’m looking, too, Marie!” Fitzcordia calls, looking around, still gripping the snitch in her hand. She puts her hand to her nose to scratch it, and is reminded very suddenly of the mask as the whiskers start twitching again. “Oops,” she mutters and smoothes them out, glancing around some more. Silver circle, and missing queen. Hmmm. Just as she stoops to look for something shimmery nearby, which turns out to just be another muggle coin, Flicker begins to shout that he’s found it. “Found what? Oh, look, Marie! Flicker’s found the pocketwatch! What do we need? The missing queen?” Fitzcordia pulls out the parchment and looks over it to see all the riddles.
Still beaming at Riamh, Psyche nodnods. “Got to be worth a try. Umm. Getting the plate to just hover for judging might be good enough? What do you think?” Meanwhile, brushing her dirty hands happily on her robe, she returns to the table to steal a plate, placing the penny on top of it and holding it out to her teammate. “I think the others have more than us…ahh, well. Maybe offer that marble you found, too? Just in case we can get points for effort?”
Bengale Tiger is paying remarkably good attention, and stands up as Flicker finds the pocketwatch. “Okay, everyone, that’s every item that there was only one of accounted for–bring your items to me then, and we’ll announce the winner.” This is largely a formality; she’s been paying enough attention that she knows who has won without checking.
Looking up at the sound of Fitzcordia’s words, Marie Jeanette claps her hands and grins widely – not that it can be seen behind her mask, but she is virtually overflowing with glee. “Oh, oh, Flicker, I could kiss you!” Exactly why such exhuberance is being attached to the finding of a pocket watch is uncertain, but can you name any time this girl has been logical? Glancing over at Bengale, she nods, rifling through her pockets for the items she found. “This is the pearl in the thorns or whatever the clue was, and this is the plume…”
Kiss him? Oh no, that doesn’t make Fitzcordia happy. However, she says nothing, and just makes her way over to Bengale. “Here, I’ve got a snitch and a muggle coin right here.” She pauses a moment, digging deep into her pocket before she locates the object, presenting it for observation as Flicker makes his way back over. “And he’s got a pocket watch.” Fitzcordia looks quite pleased that the five of them had managed to find so many of the needed objects for the scavenger hunt. And imagine, five galleons to split between them! What fun.
Psyche, meanwhile, fairly bounds over to Bengale, proffering coin and…plate. “It flies if you throw it. Not quite as good as their snitch,” she admits, but oh look she’s so hopeful, “but it’s gold. And Riamh has the Queen chess piece. So that’s..two, really. Maybe three.” Or four. Maybe she should put a rose or some dirt on the plate, too, just in case it matches a clue somehow?
Riamh frowns now, but pulls the marble out of her pocket (it’s blue) and presents it with the queen. “Well, here’s the missing queen and a marble is sort of like a pearl.” So is a really round rock. She doesn’t look very hopeful at being a winner, though, what with the others having found five of the six items.
There are a lot of people that would not be happy about Marie Jeanette kissing Flicker, and as such she seems to realise this and does not in fact make any attempt to do it, tempted as she may be. “So, do we win? Huh? How are we going to divide up five galleons? Is it two to me an’ Fitzcordia and one to Flicker, ’cause he only found one and we found too? Or…?”
Bengale Tiger nods, “Well done everyone–although I’m afraid that plate and the marble don’t count. So it’s Fitzcordia, Flicker, and Marie who have earned the prize. Given it’s dividing between three, I’ll thrown in an extra knut, and that 1 Galleon, 11 Sickles, and 10 Knuts a pieces.” This amount is fished out of her robes and held out. “Mind you, I can’t do that in my head, so I’d figured what it was for a duo and for a trio earlier.” What? She’s equal here. Or mostly equal, really. “Now, if Riamh and Psyche would return the missing Queen to her chess set–it’s that one,” Bengale indicates, “You may either play or we can return to the safety of the indoors.”
