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Theodore Nott (fiadornott) wrote in pandorarpg,

In the spirit of utilitarianism, Theodore had decided that the best way to spend his evening was to enjoy himself. Normally enjoying himself meant the comfort of a hot cup of tea and a good book, but he had spent most of the day on his own already working on a cursed wardrobe. It was relatively tame to what he would see in Egypt but it kept him well occupied for the better part of the day and into the later evening (as it did take time to research and figure out the spells, as they typically were a bit different than Egyptian spells). Spending all day on his own in a large, dreary, dusty house aided with his decision to go somewhere else somewhat more stimulating (a man's gotta fulfill his needs one way or another). And plus it benefited those poor girls who obviously had some sort of aversion to clothing. Poor things.

He had been sitting in the audience, having his second drink when he noticed that the dancer seemed to be behaving oddly. Well not the same as theatrical oddly, but just odd. He took another sip of his drink when he had smelled the distinctively metallic smell of blood. It confirmed that something was amiss. He quickly rose, wand at the ready, when he noticed that things were now silent; gone was the music, gone was the room and its occupants--the walls were closing in. Oddly enough it was familiar, but in some ways it perplexed him. What was a boggart doing here? Riddikulus, he directed his wordless spell at the magical creature. He found boggarts were relatively routine things to deal with in his line of work as there are plenty of them in tiny closets and locked up rooms.

But there was no change. "Tricky bugger," he mumbled to himself furrowing his brow and repeating the spell. "Riddikulus," he said with a louder, commanding tone. Again, no change. He wondered for a brief moment whether he was going mad before the realness of his actual fear hit him; he started to believe that this was real. He felt naseous, his chest tightening with an anxiety that typically didn't show itself when he was in control of the situation. He had hunched over and vomitted before he looked up and recognized that he was back. He would've said that someone must've slipped something in his drink when he noticed that everyone else was acting oddly. He cleaned himself and took a couple of deep breaths to focus himself and stood up carefully to see whether he could still walk, taking care to not to slip on the puddle before him.

He would've left had he not felt the least bit of chivalry/social responsibility upon noticing the lone female up on stage, half naked and trembling. Being unhindered by anyone else along his way as people seemed significantly less active right now, he walked onto the stage and crouched down next to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, despite knowing the obvious answer. "Or would you need a hand to sit up?"