the inscrutable drystan b. fawcett (brythonichero) wrote in valesco,
@ 2012-02-28 21:31:00

Entry tags:

adrian mattias, anton chang, arista sykes, billie trimble, carys llewellyn, delilah spinnet, derek dobbs, drake parkin, drystan fawcett, galvin gudgeon, geoffrey brand, glenda prewett, griffith kirkham, group, hamilton nott, holly troy, iwan quigley, joey jenkins, magnolia mattias, marissa macfusty, michal conway lynch, miles lufkin, mirabelle jasper, odette boot, rose knightley, rupert brookstanton, savannah davies, seth wadcock, veronica zeller, victoria cadwallader, zoey moran

End of Season party! For the 3rd

Drystan did not usually consider himself a sore loser. He had experienced enough defeats in his career to understand that winning was sometimes as much luck as it was skill—the latter of which he had plenty, the former he was starting to doubt he had any. He would even go so far as to say this was one of the top seasons he'd ever played. Losing the Cup might not be such a hardship, in that light. But to lose to the team he considered the most unsportsmanlike in the League was just an insult to injury. To have lost to them for the third time in the season was, in his perfectly reasonable and justified opinion, grounds for murder.

But a lifetime sentence in Azkaban would leave behind a wife and three children who would likely be just fine without him, but he'd miss them. So mass murder was off the table for tonight, at the very least.

Press snapped pictures outside the admittedly-abandoned looking building of 23 High Street, and Drystan knew there were more inside. Entering the rundown lobby, by-passing the elevator with the out-of-order sign, they made their way up the long flight of stairs to the grand doors of the first floor landing and into the—holy Mer—

Of course, the invitation specified formal wear, but Drystan hadn't honestly been expecting a high-brow formal occasion from the Kestrels. It was a ballroom. There was emerald green positively everywhere. There was something that looked suspiciously like a string ensemble. A bar, where he fancied he would spend as much time as possible, was in the corner. Platters with hors d'oeuvres and glass flutes zoomed by. Having stopped moving, wearing a stupefied expression, Bess had to tug his arm to get him to continue his stride.

"Hell," he muttered, pulling a grim face at the ostentatious yet somehow tasteful décor. Lifting their linked hands, he kissed the back of hers while surveying the spectacle before him.

"Five minutes? Five minutes isn't too soon."

ooc: Quidditch players/personnel + their guests! BLACK TIE! Party is on the first floor in this cool but creepy rundown building. Have fun! :D

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Rose Knightley

incharge
2012-02-29 04:31 am UTC (link)

Axe pulled disgustedly at the collar strangling him. Black-tie formal. Did they conveniently forget the hosting team had gallivanted across Germany to such a troublesome degree that the UK tabloids had picked up the story published in the local papers? Or the rampant misbehavior of the team for the rest of the season?

No, he knew, they remembered exactly what the Kenmare Kestrels had done in the past season, and their manager was trying desperately to rehabilitate their image. He scoffed, yanking the bothersome collar of his dressrobes further away from his Adam's apple as he waited for the doors of the lift to open, to take him to the fourth floor where the event was.

And that was another thing! Who wanted some stuffy celebration of the end of the playing season? They hurled out words like ballroom, and string ensemble, and other things that made him want to throttle someone. Was it perhaps the slightest bit cool how the Wizarding world parties often popped up in the most surprising of places, provided full-scale amusement and entertainment, then disbanded with a snap, not leaving a trace behind? Well, maybe a little, but—not this time!

It probably wouldn't have been so bad if their manager and the coordinating witch Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. had sent over hadn't tried to include Axe in every small detail. Attire? (Casual! Very Casual—no) Black-tie, of course. An open bar? There had better be. How many reporters were they giving passes to for the event? None, but Axe was vetoed as if they hadn't even heard him. The inaneness went on and on, and to save himself from being driven absolutely mad, Axe remembered actually plunging his hand into his pocket for his wand. He didn't know what he was going to do, but it was going to be satisfying, and he wouldn't have to be party to this—this party-planning, and—no, he may actually have been going mad, if he was thinking of doing this.

Instead he stroked his wand lovingly and told himself he'd been ousted from the UK for three years for maiming another highly skilled player for life—was he really so willing to subject himself to the same sentence because he lost his patience with an overly enthusiastic party-planner?

So he Apparated out of the office after perhaps one rude hand gesture.

Now, he was late, and the blasted doors were taking forever to open. Snarling by the time the lift finally arrived, he waltzed inside and was confronted with a panel with buttons on it.

A lot of buttons.

He hated these things. As if the ones in the Ministry weren't bad enough, now he had to ride some decrepit and run down one that he could not make heads nor tails on how to navigate. Axe took a wild guess and pushed, a chime echoing after he presumably selected his floor. Slumping against the wall, he waited impatiently for the thing to move.

"Wait!" he heard from vaguely outside the lift. "Hold the lift!"

The 'lift' brought him to attention. He was not sharing this suffocating box with anyone else. Those doors had to slide close immediately.

But which button? He stabbed futilely.

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flower
2012-02-29 05:44 am UTC (link)

Rose had actually been enjoying herself--- until in a sudden frenzy she remembered she hadn't fed the cat all day. So, with a quick wave to Danielle and Donovan, she left to pop back home to a borderline murderous feline that proved to be difficult to feed in a floor-length dress. It had taken longer than she expected, but knowing that Danielle and Donovan were hopefully having some resemblance of an enjoyable time eased her worries.

After their scare, Rose had wanted to give them something that would hopefully make them feel a little better--- and what was better than dressing up nice to partake in luxurious activities all night?

But now she wanted to get back, perhaps finally meet Thomas' Samantha--- hence the rushing to the lift. She wrapped her hand around the door, initially happy to have made it before it closed. She swayed slightly to catch her breath, only looking up to the other person inside who had presumably held it for her after composing herself.

Was it possible to violently loose your breath after just catching it? Apparently so. Rose teetered on her heels, feeling unrealistically uncomfortable and caught . She knew who this man was. She did not want to get on the lift with him, but what choice did she have now? It would be incredibly rude to have made him wait, hold the door, and then decide not to ride after seeing his face. No one could afford being that rude to the practical host of the party, let alone her of all people.

Fiercely biting the inside of her lip, Rose ducked her head low and slipped inside to the furthest corner, which really wasn't that far at all considering how small the lift was. The question of whether or not the infamous Axbanger would have cared if she blatantly choose to opt out was not something she thought of until she was already inside. Somehow she figured it wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest.