InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I love you hunnybunny!"

p . fitzwilliams (aftershocks) wrote in valesco,
@ 2015-07-27 21:07:00

Entry tags:

adian rosenberg, arista sykes, arthur griffiths, camilla clearwater, charles spinnet, charlotte towler, flynn wright, greta catchlove, group, howell williams, hugh orpington, liddie lynch-spinnet, ludo bagman, mattie scarpin, miles lufkin, peter fitzwilliams, phoebe smethwyck, rose knightley, saoirse mullet, vivienne lufkin

ALL STAR PARTY! FOR JULY 31ST!

Peter had not understood his management's request to wear light colors, a white shirt if he could, until he entered the tented area on Wimbourne Field and was struck with a glob of what felt like paint. He stared down at the bright pink bulge on his chest for a few seconds before looking up to find the culprit, a tiny intern from the back offices who looked mortified that he had been the one to strike Peter. But, the week had been a good one for his team and for himself, so Peter just spread the paint across his shirt like a claw mark and continued on his way. If this was their theme, he was going to run with it.

Anyone who came into his path had a pink hand-print somewhere on their body, whether it be in an appropriate place or not. He was enjoying very much the attention that had been put on the Wasps, and with their latest addition milling about somewhere, the news fresh off a post-game announcement, Peter was feeling excellent about the rest of their season.

Perhaps he needed some yellow paint, with all this team spirit he was feeling. Peter made his way through to a table where the necessary supplies were at the ready, and dipped two fingers into the bowl of yellow paint. With keen expertise, he spread thick lines across his cheek bones, as if ready to go into battle.

His spirits high and the lights down low, this was certainly going to prove to be an excellent night.

ooc: Black Buzzers and the Brash Bees win! Caden Flint and Hugh Orpington are your MVPs!
Black light party! Paint! Wizard fun! Lots of dark corners to get into trouble!

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ARISTA

soundedfury
2015-07-28 03:27 am UTC (link)

"No, no, I don't want any---"

Artie's mouth twisted in great, pained annoyance as the Kestrel slopped a big goop of green paint on his shoulder. "Yes, hilarious."

He waited for the idiot to leave before grimacing, stretching his neck as far away from the offending shoulder as he could. The paint had not touched his skin, so it would be fine until he managed to get away from the bumping crowd and could properly banish the gunk away. Artie dipped and dodged, wonder how his agent could have thought this was a good idea. He had performed excellently in the skills events, as he always did, and had wished to return home after it. But no he had to stay for the game he was not playing in, and he then had to attend a party he did not wish to attend.

Didn't he ever get to do anything he wanted?

"This is ridiculous," Artie grumbled to himself as he poked his wand at the glob, realizing that it was charmed to remain sticky, and gooey, and he bloody loved this jacket! "Ridiculous!"

He gave a great shake of his shoulder in one last dire attempt to get the offending paint off of him, and successfully removed a good chunk of it. That chunk, however, landed in the hair of the witch standing nearby, and Artie wondered how quickly he could procure a time-turner. Though, if he had managed to get one, he would've been able to stop his past self from doing something as foolish as putting a glop of paint in Arista Sykes' hair.

Artie couldn't even find it in himself to try and dash off before she turned. He stood, begrudgingly ready to accept his fate.

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thegoldfinch
2015-07-29 02:07 am UTC (link)

Arista had been having a perfectly unremarkable time. Hudson, ever the social butterfly, had flitted off almost as soon as the party had begun, leaving her to navigate the raucous crowd by herself. Stung by the failure of even an unofficial loss, she was not feeling terribly social, particularly not with any of her teammates, real or all-star. The glowing substance being thrown around did nothing to encourage her mood.

It was all a bit gauche for her taste, but people were enjoying the mess from the looks and sounds of it. Not that that was anything to recommend it by, of course. The general populus had awful taste. She had thus far managed to avoid getting anything but peripheral spray on her, and since she stayed out of the writhing center of the room, no chance of changing that.

Until something smacked into her back, causing her to turn her head sharply so she could look over her shoulder. There was no one there, but a dull glow seemed to be emanating from her person. She looked downwards to see if anything had fallen on the floor, and saw plenty of things best not thought about, but nothing that might have been launched at her and bounced off.

What. The. Hell?

Her fingers immediately went to her back, running up and down in search of something, and stopping in the tangle of her hair, where something wet awaited her. She drew her fingers back to her face, where iridescent green greeted her. The paint was textured, as if clothing fibres or dust had been mixed in. Her brows pulled together in disgust, and she immediately around her for the culprit.

She needn't have looked far, because Artie Griffiths was standing in front of her, splotches of the same green on his person, and a rather dumbstruck expression on his face.

"What is your issue, Griffiths?" she snarled. At that very moment, the peak of her anger and irritation, a party-goer was dashing past her, a cup of paint in their hands. Without stopping to think, she plucked the cup right out of their grip, ignored the outraged hey! that followed, and tossed the glowing pink contents onto him. "I thought you'd like it back," she said, sweetly, discarding it over her shoulder.

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soundedfury
2015-07-31 04:55 am UTC (link)

Artie had never felt so many things at once, and he was quite sure that he was going to implode into a little pile of dust and get swept away with the breeze.

It seemed like the paint was moving toward him as if hit with an impediment jinx, because Artie was quite sure of his reflexes. Maybe it was the swiftness in accessing a fresh cup of paint that had caught him off guard, or perhaps he'd been frozen himself by the sheer panic the thought of being victim to Arista Syke's fury had caused him. So Artie was startled, confused, a bit impressed with her swiftness, and then cold, because the paint was cold as it splattered into his face and all over his front.

His jacket was surely ruined.

Again, there were many things that he was feeling. He was startled, confused, impressed, cold, and now as the paint dripped he was suddenly very aware of how much of his skin was now covered with it. Some...some voice in his head tried shouting that the paint was clean, that they wouldn't have put it out to 'play with' if it was contaminated or could harm you in any sense, but the shouting voice did not drown out the much louder hollering voice that told him who knew what the fuck the Kestrels had done with this paint!

"Ack! ACK!" he let out, seemingly freed of his frozen state (though in reality it was a split second reaction). Artie stumbled back hands and arms out wide because, he didn't know why, his body just did it, and he regained his footing. How--how--how was he supposed to move with all of this paint dripping down his neck and under his shirt and---

"It. Was. An. Accident!" he let out unhappily, throwing his hands to the ground in an attempt to splatter what he could off of him. In turn, he managed to spray Arista, and now he was feeling satisfied. With another great flick of his arm in her direction, Artie continued his barrage, stepping closer. Before he could think better of it, because he really should have thought better of it, and would have if he were not under such a strain of feelings, reached into his hair, grabbed a shiny pink glob, and planted it on top of Arista's head.

"An accident, Sykes!"

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thegoldfinch
2015-08-01 05:56 am UTC (link)

On-lookers would gossip excitedly later on that they saw her vision go red, but it would be more appropriate to say it turned glowing pink, as gobs of the stuff dripped down a slimy rivulet, down to her chin.

"An accident?" she shrieked, her hands clutching where the volleyed paint had landed on her head.

It seemed as if every one of her frustrations and grievances—that Pride was beating the Magpies, that she couldn't even win a match that counted for nothing, that she seemed to be taking this false relationship with Hudson more seriously, and, for that matter, that her only relationship in recent history was a fraud, that she was cursed with the unfortunate luck of having Jocunda Withers-Sykes as her mother—in that moment found their target in Artie Griffiths. Who deserved it, of course. Who certainly deserved every iota of her fury.

As if possessed, in the throes of such blinding rage and disbelief as she was, she reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair in her hand, yanking him down mercilessly so his head matched hers in height. "I WILL SHOW YOU AN ACCIDENT!"

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soundedfury
2015-08-03 02:18 am UTC (link)

"OW! OW! ARISTA! ARISTA!"

Artie bent nearly in half as she pulled him down. He couldn't even look at her, he felt so exposed, and so pained, and so stupid. He couldn't even be mad, because he'd been the one to come to this party in the first place! If he'd just pitched a fit like he'd wanted to earlier. All he had to do was accept that pink paint like the grown man he was, and that would've been it. But no, he had to react. Why did he do this to himself? Why was he always trying to please other people by going to these damn things?! No one had even bothered with him, anyway! And now look, he was a second away from being held in a headlock by Arista Sykes.

How was she so bloody strong?!

Seeing no escape, because he was not about to hit/touch a girl and she seemed ready to kill, Artie stopped struggling and hung his arms limp in defeat.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay! You win!" Artie let out, avoiding the laughing faces of some passing party-goers. Great, just brilliant, he was going to be the laughing stock of the whole event. And it was his own damn fault! He couldn't even be boorish enough to avoid taking any credit in this disastrous display.

His feet did stomp a little, though. "Will you let me go? You're pulling out my hair!"

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thegoldfinch
2015-08-03 10:51 pm UTC (link)

Her intention was to make him bald, but she accepted once he had apologised that she was behaving quite uncouthly and ought to release her hold on his head quickly, to be satisfied only with making him yelp.

"Thank you," she said icily, when considerable distance had been put between them and she could straighten up with some manor of dignity.

Glaring daggers of death at any bystander that dared appear to be lingering or gawking at the scene she to which she had been party, Arista brushed off her spattered robes as if she were trying in vain to brush off the horrible events of this day.

She needed to go home. She needed a bath. She really needed to pray that no one from the press caught wind of what had just transpired between her and Artie Griffiths.

Arista let out an aggrieved breath through her nose. As if she were lucky enough for that to ever happen. Tossing her undoubtedly ruined hair back, she snapped, "Get out of my way!" to the crowd unlucky enough to be within two feet of her, parting them like the Red Sea so she could storm off.

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