WHO: Marissa MacFusty and Iwan Quigley!
WHAT: Preciousness!
WHERE: Tornadoes Stadium!
WHEN: RIGHT after their match!

( And Quigley makes it down to the pitch at record speeds, looks like he’s shooting after the snitch once more, eh Larry )

It had taken him longer than it should have, because of his schedule and his nerves, but Iwan had finally made it up to the Hebrides Islands on the chance that Marissa the Redheaded Dragon Chaser did indeed live there. It was rather daunting; Iwan had never traveled this far North, save for his trips to Hogwarts, but not only was it the distance---but for a woman. Merlin, she probably wouldn't even remember his name, he'd been so rude to not speak to her since Hogsmeade, but...this was a somewhat romantic gesture, wasn't it?

He looked up at the large entrance to the Dragon Reserve with a bit of reserve himself. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Not that he could see any dragons just yet, but the fact remained that if this wasn't the right place, he could quite easily be tossed into the dinner bowl of a hungry Hebridean Black Dragon. It was a possibility. Even if this WAS the right place, Marissa could probably manage to toss him straight down the throat of one of the giants.

Iwan tugged on the hem of his shirt, feeling out of place in what he thought would be dragon reserve appropriate clothes. He took a few steps into the reserve, looking for any place that might seem like...a starting point? This place was huge.

Charlie was literally bouncing around like a school kid. How was he so keen on the ways of excited, shriek-filled Hogwarts students? Why, he was surrounded by a gaggle of them! Bouncing, the lot of them, and all donned in red and gold! It was a beautiful sight, really, and it made the slightly overcast day seem bright and sunny and warm. He wanted to hug each and every one of those kids, so he did and it was a good feeling to be recognized as some 'Gryffindor Hero!' A Gryffindor Hero! Legend, some were saying. Some teeny, tiny voice in the back of Charlie's head knew that legend, even hero was pushing it a bit far, but he would happily accept the compliments because they made him feel damn special.

He hadn't been much of a standout in school, popular enough not to lurk around the corridors without anyone noticing you were there, but he was no quidditch captain or head boy. He was just Charlie, and even if his quidditch fame and popularity had skyrocketed these past few years, he was still very much in awe of the fact that people could be impressed by him.

"All right, all right!" he laughed, prying off the clamped fingers of a young third year girl's off his arm. "I'll be back, I promise!"

There was a chorus of moans, but soon the group had spotted yet another player to lay their tremendous excitement and focus on, and Charlie was free. He bounded down the pavement, Gryffindor scarf proudly flapping in the wind behind him, and dropped down onto a wooden bench beside his very Hufflepuff-y girlfriend.

"The kids," he said, waving his hand out toward the crowd before dropping it down onto the back of the bench behind Penelope, "They dig me."

Glenda pressed her lips together to produce a small laugh, brushing the old wizard's shoulder in front of her in a warm manner as he laughed at his joke. It was a rather amusing story about a niffler and a mackled malaclaw, but the night was starting to wear her down. Any WWN party, whether it be under the façade of a birthday bash or not, was always apart of the public relations machine. Tonight was certainly no exception, though it did give her an excuse to wander (and drink) as much as she pleased. Under that pretense, she gave a quick pat to her new acquaintance and walked off before he had a chance to contest.

There was also this aging business that she couldn't help avoid either. Turning older when she already felt ancient was a strange feeling; it felt doubly so every time another announced her general youth. Twenty-three and already so popular! Twenty-three with such a name! Twenty-three, what a bright future laid ahead! They all conveniently forgot to realize that she was still twenty-two, and really nothing of their kind words made any sense to her, but what could she do if they wanted to tell her these things? It was good that she had perfect her smiling and nodding years ago.

This party wasn't all that bad, honestly. The WWN had actually invited some of her old friends, in addition to people she was sure she had never met in her life, but that didn't bother her. It was.... nice. And a bit frightening. Well, frightening for the prospect of one person, which Glenda still wasn't sure if she was actively or passively avoiding after all these months without knowledge of whether or not he was even here... it did not matter! She was an adult. They were adults, there was no reason why---

Merlin he was here. There he was! Was she losing feeling in her legs? Feeling very much caught, Glenda stood frozen, even unable to think of going about executing a quick get away. Maybe he wouldn't see her, or felt just as awful as she had been feeling and would continue to prolong their eventual remeeting! That was a pretty awful thing to say about your best friend, wasn't it?

It had been a sudden burst of impulse that had led her to write back to a Quidditch player from Falmouth, of all places -- but she was slowly beginning to see that she couldn't just coop herself up at home with the dragons or with her job at the Ministry (which she'd been very lucky to be able to get back after her spotty attendance before her leave of absence, really). It was time for her to move on with her life now that Voldemort really was gone, and the Death Eater activity had significantly decreased for what the world hoped was good.

She chewed absently at her pinky fingernail while she waited for Michal to show up to the diner. She hadn't moved out to her own flat again yet, so going home was out of the question -- and she didn't want him to think that she was some complete nutter from Hebrides right off the bat anyway, even if that was pretty obvious to everyone but her.

Their impromptu pub-date had gone well, she'd thought -- it was certainly clear to her that he probably needed to learn to relax too, whether he'd ever held the ability to and lost it as she had.

Running her fingers through the folds of her dress, Glenda let no pleat or invisible lint go unattended to as she sat. Her dress was far too beautiful for those kinds of blemishes, and the task had proven to be a manageable distraction that was getting her through the rest of the night until it was professionally and socially acceptable to leave.

Oh, that sounded horrible. She really shouldn't be so unwilling to attend her own party. The WWN had really outdone itself, inviting practically the whole of the Wizarding World to help 'welcome her back' to Britain's airwaves. The network had been more than happy to accept her back when she (Sturgis) had contacted them, but had made no mention of something like this until last week after everything had been finalized. All she had asked for was her job back, but apparently her celebrity status had grown substantially with her absence and things like this had become necessary.

She had spent the first good part of the party clutching tightly onto Sturgis' arm, feeling not only uneasy but lost as witch after wizard continued to appear in front of her, asking questions, telling jokes and attempting to have ernest conversations with the woman of the hour. It felt strange having so many familiar faces and names rushed back upon her, and many times already she had wished she was her formal self. If this had been three years ago, Glenda knew she would have chatted up the entire room already instead of giving half-empty smiles, dutiful nods and soft answers.

Now, though, Sturgis had long ago left her side. A tactic she knew no doubt had been purposefully planned down to the minute. It had generated the same feeling within Glenda when he had shown up an hour early before this whole thing started, asking if she minded escorting him, and then offering to drop Tristan off at her Aunt and Uncle's to ensure that she would have enough time to get ready because she hadn't even gotten dressed yet. She knew he was only trying to help with her readjustment process, which made her love, and hate, him more because of it.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Glenda looked up to catch glimpses of the party from outside. Her aimless wandering had lead her to party's outside grounds, a rather nice garden area with sparkling lights and nearby fountain. A few people were nearby, but she didn't mind much. The atmosphere reminded her of Italy.


OOC: soo it's safe to assume Gleny basically knows everyone, WWN would've made sure all friends were here LOL and if she didn't, all famous people were invited anyway so YAY

Marissa wasn't sure exactly what had possessed her to accept an invitation from a complete stranger on the journals, really. She knew that she needed to get out more, sure, and she felt like she could finally be at peace with the fact that she and Sturgis had gone their separate ways, but she still rarely felt like leaving the house after getting home from work. The pressure and pain from seeing James Potter die, to see Alice and Frank Longbottom tortured to the point of no return -- to see her sister lose her hand just like she had, it was all too much for her to have faith in much of anything any longer.

She knew the rest of her friends were feeling it too, that pain, but she just hadn't been able to deal with it. Neither had Sturgis, at least not when they'd been trying to do as much. Now seeing him just reminded her of exactly how much they'd both lost; it was far too painful.

That was why, as she left the Experimental Charms department, she slipped into the lavatory to pull her hair down from its messy bun at the back of her head and wave it out, apply a little chapstick, and give her cheeks a quick pinch. She headed back out soon after and stepped into the main entrance of the Ministry, arms crossed as she leaned against a nearby pole.

She could just wait him out, look to see who else was trying to find another person in the flood of wizards and witches eager to rush home.

Who: Marissa and ~mystery guest~
What: The ministry is bollocks.
Where: Muggle London
When: The relative 'now'

( And it made her want to vomit cotton candy out her eyes. )

As Jonas revved up for the last song of the day, Kobe smiled brightly at the crowd. The critics had been wrong. It was a peace rally that had gone off without a hitch and no sign of death eaters, anywhere! The extra security must really be doing its job, and everyone was having a blast. She'd even seen some aurors bouncing around to the music, too! Kobe was incredibly proud of her husband, and she looked up to the clear blue sky with a wide, toothy grin.

It faded slightly, however, as some dark clouds began to roll in over the park. Remarkably fast clouds, which didn't seem natural and were already thundering loudly. The weather report had claimed they would have clear skies all day, so this was strange and----Kobe slammed her hands over her ears as the loudest roll of thunder clapped itself over the park. Immediately the clouds seemed to open up and rain began to pour down on the crowd like buckets. Well--if bad weather was the worse of their problems, they'd done a pretty good job, right?

Kobe gasped as a bolt of green lightening shot through the crowd, followed by the terrified screams of the concert goers.

"No, nonono----" she let out from the side of the stage. Where had they all come from? The bloody sky? Kobe started towards Jonas, to pull her husband off the stage because while they had met during a catastrophe, she really did not feel like enduring another one, "Jonas!" she screamed, but was thrown off balance as the stage began to creak and shake as if an earthquake was beginning to rumble underneath.

Peace didn't stand a chance, these days.

Who: Marissa MacFusty
What: ???
Where: MacFusty homestead, this morning
Status: Complete narrative

( Listen to the sound...of my big, black boots. )

She hadn't wanted to bring this up with James until she was completely sure that they had something concrete and that Frank could move into legal action, but seeing James post like that -- so angry -- had made her move into action. Between him and Sturgis she was going to slit her own goddamn wrists, so the least she could do was cheer them up the way she knew how.

With James, it meant beer and cigars (even if she'd never seen him smoke -- boys would at least smoke them even if they'd never done it before) and telling him about the suspicious activity she and Frank had seen when they'd arrived at the scene of Mr. Potter's death.

She pushed the door to the Order house open with her hip and closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked before she headed into the hallway and tried to find James.

She ended up dropping the beer (cold, charmed to stay that way for at least six hours) and cigars onto the table in a somewhat messy pile.

"So."