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Deitha's line of argumentation was problematic. He could relate, part of him even agreed, but he still thought that her understanding of the matter was rather simplistic. There were rules and laws for a reason. He wanted to believe that, perhaps, even needed to believe that. There was no denying though that the system had failed him and his family on a personal level and that it was now failing his patients.

"I understand your frustration with people acting like the rules don't apply to them," he whispered to her. "I'm not okay with that either. Abuse of power is fundamentally wrong."

 They were making their way back upstairs. She wanted him to do what?! Something inside him crumbled. "Deitha," he breathed. "I'm scared of what you're proposing I turn into."

Her words came with strange and bitter thoughts. He had the power. He could do what she suggested. It would be easy to fry the minds of those responsible for so much horror in the world. But what would be the price? She was probably not wrong about him because he felt partially in agreement and could see himself following that proposed path. Maybe, he could live with it. Was his dignity and conscience enough of reason to bow out. Was that just him making things easy for himself?

"But I can't agree that the solution to that problem is that we make ourselves guilty of the same crime. We can't be judge and execution. That's wrong. You must see that. We can't become what we hate, Deitha."

A chill went down his spine. He didn't usually talk like this and he wasn't sure whose better nature he was appealing to, his or hers. Taking his tea he looked into her eyes and focused sharply. His thoughts pressed into her head. Where was she coming from? Was sadism a factor in this? Was malice? He let out a sigh. This was complicated.

His thoughts were swimming as he considered the Dark Lord and his followers, the danger the wizarding world and society found itself in. "History has shown that you can't discuss matters with Dark Wizards. We can't trust the ministry and politics to handle the situation when they're complicit and have created part of these corrupt structures. Our government is filled with those of questionable believes and allegiance. There's a saying in my family. If you can't fight violence peacefully, the only remaining option is militancy. Maybe that is right."

He didn't want it to be right. Yet here he was, somehow convincing himself.

"We need rules and boundaries for this. Clear limits. Say I'm in, say I agree that we do something where do we draw the line? I won't be the architect of people's lifelong torture. That's not me. It can't be me. We scare them, okay, five days to make up their mind if they will surrender to the law or if we force their hand. If I look into their minds... I'm sure we can produce enough evidence to condemn anybody."

He still sounded unsure, but his voice was getting a little firmer. "That man... who hurt my patient... take a look in the pensieve. I'm not sure where we'd find him, but if that is a problem you can solve I think we can make him turn himself in. Maybe."
Library / 🌷 Spring 70Re: The Heck with Enemies
Last post by Artemis Vernatis - September 23, 2021, 07:35:49 pm
'Help me? This was their group assignment, for Merlin's sake!' Artemis thought as he closed his textbook, highly annoyed at the girl's audacity. "You can go back to the classroom and look at McGonagall's bookshelf or look at the transfiguration bookshelves yourself. This is your part of the project, not mine. If we fail this assignment then at least everyone will know that it's because of you. I have my own researching to do." Artemis said as he stood up and moved to another part of the library to search for some books of his own. Honestly, did the girl think that he was going to do everything? She was probably used to that sort of thing, the prim and proper rich girl she was raised to be.

He could do this whole thing without her, if he were honest with himself. He just didn't feel like doing it because it wasn't a sole assignment. He would most likely do her part anyway just in case she failed to do her part. That way, he had a backup plan to get that O he needed.

The first year sighed as he collected a few books off the shelf. More like ten books; he carried five while levitating the other five next to him. Once back at the table, Artemis proceeded to place the books down, turning the binds of the books at an angle so that they both could read the titles, and opened one of the books to begin skimming the table of contents. He turned to the correct page of that book to read up on the sources for the practical uses. Some of the books had some information that Yaxely would need for her end of the project, and he wouldn't stop her from looking through the books if she wanted to, but he sure as pie wasn't going to do her work for her and let her take the credit. If he did her work, he was taking the credit for himself and damn her own grade. So she had better pull her weight.

Looking through the first book proved to be of little help to the boy and with a sigh, he closed it and opened the next book. Skimming through it, he managed to procure a few notes from that book about a few uses and scribbled away, making short hand notes that he would be able to put into full sentences later on. He even made sure to write down any special wand movements to demonstrate to the class or draw onto the parchment if they had to present this. Artemis was determined to be the best in the class for this project. And he was determined to make this project work even with one of the most spoiled students in the school. Looking up briefly from his notes, he remembered the question the girl had posed to him before he went searching for books earlier.

"I hope you don't expect me to write up the whole thing," he stated pointedly. "You better get started. If your part isn't completed, I'll let McGonagall know that you refused to do your end of the project and take the grade for myself." He couldn't help himself. The girl was infuriating and unless she changed her pompus ways, Artemis couldn't see himself ever being cordial toward her or even considering being her friend.
Ravenclaw Common Room / 🌷 Spring 70Re: Wrapped in a mystery...
Last post by Bobby Cashmore - September 22, 2021, 09:47:58 pm
Zenith? That was a word Bobby hadn't heard before, but from context, it sounded like a peak, or the innermost point of something. Either way, what Gemini was saying made sense. That everything was so vast and complex it was impossible to visualise and yet its impossibility was in itself conceivable.

It occurred to him - not the very first time, but one of the few times in the last two plus years - that he really was in the right place being in Ravenclaw. He couldn't imagine having this sort of debate with any of the students he knew in the other houses. The Gryffindors he knew didn't care, the Hufflepuffs didn't concern themselves with fanciful notions because there were always more practical things to be dealing with, and the Slytherins were too busy scheming or having ambitions - or both - to simply stop and observe the world around them.

He played the diamond he had, hoping that Gemini had another of the same number, because he was fairly sure there wasn't another diamond lurking in his hand.

"I sometimes wonder if this is what people who study philosophy at muggle university think about. Y'know, thinking about thinking. Coming up with a sort of... ultimate clarity of thought. A way of trying to understand the universe on a purely logical level, and, I s'pose, trying to understand ourselves as well. We are part of everything, everything is part of us and it is all connected."

He lapsed into silence. Everything was such a large topic to talk about.
"A harp? No, that would be a little bit big and I don't think either of would want to carry it around!" She would file that away for future reference. But, oddly, it fitted. There was something a little off-balance about the man that she'd never been able to place. He was neither especially tall nor especially short, neither particularly lithe or stocky, and his bearing was both statuesque and yet informal. Learning that he played the harp at all, let alone owning one, seemed exectedly unexpected.

She watched the younger Dálaigh family member wander through her own thoughts, trying to place what might be important to her brother. It was, if she had to admit it, kind of cute. It reminded Deitha of some of the times between her and Margoyle, before things got... complicated... when they'd try to second guess each other.

Without a word, part of her began to ache. She hadn't seen her brother since the first day she had set foot in this clinic, and needing a familiar and friendly face after her first treatment. She resolved that she would make time for him - for the both of them - once this current mess was straightened out.

"The pensieve? No," she mused half out loud, half to herself. "I don't think that's a good idea. The memories are personal - and I think they might have things that are too personal even for us to see right now."

There was an awkward moment where Deitha felt tensed, ready to act, but Aoibheann was pottering about looking for something and seemingly not finding it, whatever it was.

"Precautions? Yes, that sounds like Odhrán alright." It was muttered hopefully not loud enough for the other to hear as Deitha thought it was just a little too on the nose. But completely true.

Aoibheann was addressing her directly after that, and not in a matter-of-fact way... something about opening a drawer?

She came over, took a look. It was locked, and she crouched down to get to eye level with it. Gotta face your demons square in the eye or something!  There was a period of squinting, and staring and even very genteel sniffing. Trying to get a handle on whether it was magically sealed or simply mechanically locked, whether it had counter-measures. All of the things she would normally assess when dealing with a sealed ... thing.

Deitha was fairly sure she looked odd, giving a desk drawer a side-eye and though she hadn't consciously noticed it, her tongue was protruding from between her teeth in a manner that if Bonehead had done it, might have been labelled a 'blep'.

It occurred to her that from what she knew of Odhrán, he seemed the sort that would use a mechanical-only lock precisely because it would keep out all but the most determined wizards who would assume it was magically protected, and upon not finding anything, would assume it was more fearsome than they would know what to do with.

Pulling one of the pins from her hair, letting part of her one pigtail loose, she bent it and started wiggling it in the space where the key would normally go. After a bit of wiggling and a few mildly determined-sounding grunts, the lock shifted and the desk drawer was free to slide open.

Inside was a small notebook. Deitha pointed at it, "Is that what you mean? I think you should probably read it. You and he... share a bond, and I don't particularly want to learn something I'm not meant to know."

Deftly pinning her hair back to its usual level of flair and panache, she thought about it. Even having already tried to not look, part of her was quietly mulling over the possibilities. There was potential for someone in her profession to have a little more information to hand, and always use for it...
Lincei bristled a little, but this new human seemed genuine and sincere. Part of him wanted to talk about the prejudice of the two-legs. Including the claims he had heard from his village that the two-legs thought themselves more wise than the centaurs. Lincei may have been young but he had seen the wisdom of his village, their readings of the messages written in the stars and their coming to pass.

He thought about the newly arrived female wizard, in an attempt to not rush to judgement. His tribe talked about taking a pause to take stock of a situation before acting - and he was still young and headstrong, wanting to act was his reaction. There had been something about the tone of her voice. He wanted to trust her but it was hard for him; so many years had passed, so many stories from his tribe of the treachery of the two-legs. But she seemed sincere and earnest.

And he was here on a mission of mercy, not a military one. He squinted, and pointed. "The unicorn last headed west, but it is running erratically, and not in straight lines. You may find that while it may have headed west, I fear it may have started to turn south, towards the lake."

Lincei humphed and frowned deeply. He had not meant for his words to sound ominous but there was the unspoken assertion: a unicorn, even a foal, would not ordinarily be troubled by even the Hogwarts lake, but in a wounded state, all things were unfortunately possible. And even as he thought it, he found himself adopting a more dire tone, one usually reserved for the gravest of messages from the elders.

"I cannot hear the wounded animal. It is either very far now, or it is too badly wounded to cry out."

He turned to Dumbledore, gritting his teeth. "Is there any... magic... you can perform to locate it?" He did not want to ask but his concern for the animal was greater than his distrust of human magic.
The Story - Face Claims - Want Ads - Link Back - Discord[/align]

[align=center]Three Bridges is an 18+ Mercy Thompson inspired AU RP. Three Bridges is a hotbed of supernatural politics and tension. The Fae have come out to humans decades ago, but shapeshifters, vampires, and witches are still debating the risks and rewards of such a decision. While talks go on behind the scenes, supernaturals fight to keep their secrets from being revealed by science, or missteps by their own kind. Which string will snap first? Will it be willingly cut or will the strain of the human world pressing in be what causes all hell to break loose?

No Word Count. No Activity Checks. Several species to choose from, but creativity is encouraged. You dream it up, we can probably make it happen! Several canon-related characters/positions are available for play. Come say hi in the discord![/align]
London / 🌷 Spring 70Re: Ingredients Not Included
Last post by Elias Redgrave - September 22, 2021, 02:27:04 am
Elias looked at the slumped over shop keeper and shook his head. He tried to tell the guy that he needed to calm down; to just say he'd pay the Redgrave family back and then Elias would have taken his leave. But no, the idiot had to be difficult and then result into violence as if that would have solved anything. This whole thing could have been avoided or at least handled differently. Then again, Elias had wanted to hex the bastard too. Maybe he was just disappointed that the other guy beat him to it.

He could only smirk when the other guy apologized for stunning the shop keeper, who was apparently a relative of his. "No need to apologize. He was annoying me as well and if you hadn't done that, I would have surely done it or worse."

Which was the truth. While Elias had restraint in using dark spells against his enemies and against other people, it wasn't as if he didn't know the spells and wasn't trained in them. He just wasn't trained as hard and strictly as his brother was. Their father would drill them for hours, making them use spells that had counter spells one one another, but the punishments for failure were much different for each brother. It was why Elias allowed his brother to one-up him often during those sparring matches. But it didn't mean that the older brother didn't know how to use those spells.

He just felt that they were a wasted sense of time and energy and Elias surely wasn't going to waste energy casting one of those spells on the laid out bloke on the floor now. No, the simple Stupefy that the kid showered on him was quite enough.

The offer of getting a drink was made and Elias quickly took the offer on. "Thank you, though I prefer whiskey if they have it. If not, a pint will do. If I cared enough, I'd take out the trash but for all I care, it can rot and stink up the place more than what it has." the man said as he frowned down at the prone body. He took the advice and gathered up the safe and actual ingredients from the Apothecary into a box he transfigured from the tip jar on the counter. Calling a house-elf, he wrote a quick note before directing the creature to take the ingredients to his brother with the note explaining the situation. Elias was done with the afternoon and with running this errand. Any other places that needed checking then his brother could do it. Elias was sure he would hex the balls off of the next idiot who tried his patience.

Upon seeing the elf off with a pop, Elias turned to his new companion. "Shall we?"
A list of names, revenge, a secret plot. None of this really sounded like Odhrán. "Are you sure?" Aoibheann couldn't help but ask again. "I... even if there is a list, I struggle to picture him lashing out at anybody without a careful plan. My brother isn't rash. I don't believe he would act in anger. He never does." However, even if she was right that still left the question unanswered of where he was and what exactly was going on. Her stomach flipped. Something was wrong. As much as she didn't want that to be true, the realisation was inevitable.

"Something personal?" Aoibheann had a little think. As far as she knew there were not many things Odhrán was sentimental about. His personal spaces were all sparse and utilitarian. She'd never understood it. 'A cluttered space makes for a cluttered mind,' he'd say on occasion as if it was an old proverb, commonly accepted as universal truth. Aoibheann sighed. "He's very fond of his harp, but if I understand the intention of your spell correctly that might not be the most practical of choices."

There were also the rings he usually wore, but Aoibheann supposed that Odhrán was likely wearing them today. That wouldn't help either. What else did he consider dear? His journal perhaps? Whenever he felt truly unobserved or comfortable he liked to draw. Except, where did he keep that thing? She couldn't recall where she had last seen it.

"How about the pensieve upstairs," Aoibheann asked? That was personal, right? Her brother had spent hours and hours with it. Then another Indra occurred to Aoibheann. "Or one of his memories? Doesn't get more personal than that, does it? I think he has some bottled up in his cabinet." Having finally arrived upstairs she opened the cabinet in question only to find it completely empty. "Ugh, I thought he had some in there," she complained.

Aoibheann went through several shelves, drawers and cabinets only to find that her brother didn't seem to keep records of anything. His office had storage space, but everything was empty save some generic medical books. She wished there was an explanation she could offer. "He must have taken precautions in case he wouldn't come back," Aoibheann suggested. It was the best idea she could come up with.

Should they head back to Ard na Mara? It seemed like they'd have a better chance of success there. Still, one more thing to try. Sliding into the chair behind Odhrán's desk, Aoibheann tried to open his desk drawer. Locked. "Deitha, could I trouble you to open that. I don't think we want to try me casting spells. I'm hopeful he might have left his journal in there. We can use that."
Her eyes darted to Pyxis so sharply, with such disapproval, anyone watching them would think he'd said something horrible. After rummaging around in her head the best he could come up with was that? What was he even talking about? "That's all you have to say?" she asked her voice quiet but clearly incredulous at his lack of response. Pursing her lips she looped her arm through his and pulled him along so that they were walking around the perimeter of the crowd as if to be inspecting the many pretty flowers in the garden. Certain they were out of earshot of anyone she started her questions to him now that he knew.

"What in the world do you mean? I was never a flirt with him in school. We were mates, that is all, you know that. How dare you suggest this is not news. It's positively shocking," she said resolutely. Then an idea occurred to her and her brow arched, "Unless ten years ago he told you something I am not aware of. Did he tell you his sentiments towards me in confidence? Have you known all these years and said nothing? If you have I consider it a deep betrayal."

She knew they were being anti-social, standing off to the side of the garden like this, heads together clearly disengaged from the wider party. This time though she didn't care. Apart from her acceptance to conservatory no other news had been so significant to her. It was foolish probably to tell him here, where they might be over heard, that was why she'd let him read her mind instead of risking saying it aloud. However she could not keep the secret or the happiness to herself any longer.

"I am sure under this patronizing response you are alarmed. Clearly you are the first person to know. Well apart from the servants, but they know everything before I even do it anyways. Regardless, you are the only person outside of he and I who knows and it must remain that way. Although we agree things will move quickly we are not moving so quickly as to go public too soon. It is understood between us that there will be resistance on my side. You know them," she was referring to her parents and grandpartents whom had been quite set on her marrying into the Blacks or the Crouches - they both have two bachelors per family. Grandmother is going to be so sour that our of four candidates I wrote in my own candidate on the ballot."

Moving again she pretended to consider the rose bushes they passed slowly on their turn around the garden. "I don't know why. I suppose with this I will be the richest witch in the UK. Surely they can't object to that. My money from the family, all the money Clive left me, all the income from his ownership stake in that broom company, the investments -- and now add this. I should expect them to be overjoyed but you know them. Grandfather will start screaming about me being swept off to a foreign land, as if Ireland might as well be the Sudan." She sighed a little and shook her head, "We will need your support Pyx, truly. I think...I think this will make me well and truly happy. He is alright with me continuing with my job. I'll have more palace rooms and diamonds than any of you. And....not to be too sentimental," she paused considering what might flash into her mind he was poking around in. She was thinking about how she felt love for that man, how he made her long for him. "I can say it is indeed a love match. It won't be easy, no marriage is, but now that it's happening I can't believe I could ever settle for anything else. It's this. Even if Grandfather forbids it I will go through with it. Promise me you will support us?"

She started in amazement as he offered her a gift. Flowers and lace and a beautiful little package. Oh, how had he even managed. She looked at him with big incredulous eyes. "Mr Ó Branagáin, how kind of you. I .. I was not expecting that." She took the flowers and smelled them. "Nobody has ever bought me flowers before," she sang to herself, well and truly a weed to receive such a gift. If he'd wanted to sweep her off her feet, he'd done just that. Aoibheann felt herself melting, in awe of the gallant knight having brought her a token of his affection.

The wait staff interrupted their exchange and she was quick to place their order, switching to German quite effortlessly. She was fiddling with the little box that Rónán had given her alongside the flowers when a rather serious question came. She could tell it mattered to him, which made it worse that she felt she couldn't give him a proper answer like he deserved.

"About as attached to a Wenger as it is possible to be. I am one through my maternal line." She gave him a little smile. "My mother was born here in Bern at castle Wenger and I grew up here in Switzerland. Went to school near Montreux. Anyway, close friends call me Ève if they speak French or Eva if they speak German. You're free to chose whichever one you like better."

Now there was a non-answer if ever she'd given one. None of that had been a lie, but neither did she own being Aoibheann Nì Dhálaigh. She had a sinking feeling that letting him know who she truly was would change how they interacted. She enjoyed their silly and carefree banter. Would he be the same once he hard she had been sick for many years? Would he still want to chase her halfway across Europe once he knew who her family was. The thought way uncomfortably in her stomach. He'd given her flowers and his mind sparkled so enticingly. She couldn't give him up now.

Her fingers seemed a little unsteady, but at last she managed to open his gift. A gorgeous turquoise green silk scarf! Was he insane? They barely met and yet he... Aoibheann didn't have words for how all of this made her feel. It was like she had stepped into a fairy tale where she was being pursued by a handsome prince.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, wrapping the fabric around her neck. "Thank you." A small part of her brain screamed that accepting such a present was hardly appropriate. Too late, she'd done it and she didn't have any regrets. Her mind wanted to reach for his again to truly show him how she felt, but the gesture suddenly seemed too intimate. Instead she just looked into his eyes again, feeling almost giddy in the knowledge that she had his attention.

"So tell me, out of all the stops, which one did you like best?"
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