valesco ; a harry potter rpg

❧ ❦ ☙

( table arrangements )

He tapped the magical thermometer against the bottle and let out an exasperated 'finally' as the milk inside had reached its ideal temperature. With quick hands, he turned off the stove and wiped down any condensation from the outside of the bottle, flipping the towel over his shoulder in preparation for the infant that would be resting upon it soon.

They'd only been home an hour and their house already felt very different. The cats withheld their curiosity at this strange little being that had entered with Rose and he by maintaining perfect-viewing perches atop the furniture. Every move he made felt softer, like a creak in the floorboards could rumble the entire foundation. Their home felt---fuller, in the best of ways, and Peter was eager to adjust to it.

"Dinner is served---oh." Peter stood in the doorway of their bedroom looking a bit disappointed, but gently so? at the sight of Rose in bed with a very much asleep Oliver. His lips quirked up in amusement and he moved closer, careful not to make the mattress budge much as he sat on the opposite side of the sleeping baby.

"Should I put the bottle away?" he asked, even though his hand had already and unconsciously placed it on the night stand, his eyes locked and focused on how very small Oliver was.

WHO: Peter Fitzwilliams and Rose Knightley
WHAT: Their baby healer has some questions
WHERE: St. Mungo's
WHEN: Today!

( Peter’s lips pressed into a thin line as the door opened and he blinked slowly, attempting to push away his irritation with the incredibly slow healer )

| GUEST LIST | AESTHETICS | PARTY POST!! | HAVE FUN 🤓 |

SPATTERGROIT OUTBREAK UPDATES!

OOC: Use this post for reaction threads/recovery threads/other threads relating to the outbreak
ALSO: COMMENTS: Obituaries (dun dun dunnn!)/ Communication between characters/ aka HYBRID post!
Thanks for the focus on the plot!

Apparently she had taken a long while to wake up after her fall on the pitch. And, in that time, the English mediwizards thought it pertinent to conduct further tests. There had been concern that such a steep drop and hard impact (magical cushioning or not) might trigger a negative response from any past injuries she had. They had been worried about her back, it was always her back when she got hurt, and that had led them to uncover her condition…

It was almost a relief to hear that she wouldn’t be playing another match in the tournament. Perhaps relief was too strong a word. It was… following the initial shock and slight panic of such news, it was a welcomed release, a happy, warm excuse. And after first settling a great many of future issues with Henry Wadcock, Rose sat back much easier in her makeshift bed underneath the quidditch stadium in the healer’s bay. Would she now be able to---?

Almost as if he had been able to sense her wonder at when she would be able to see him, Peter burst into view. A small smile appeared on her lips as Rose shifted to sit up. Noting he was still in his quidditch gear, she asked,

“Did we win?” Because despite everything going on, no one had informed her of that. The condition of Artie Griffiths she had been able to wrangle (he was alive), but everything else… not so much.

Rose pushed back some hair that had fallen out of her messy braid, looking to Peter with wide eyes. They searched his face, and not for the first time today, she forgot that she had been the one to plummet out of the sky dramatically. Instead, she felt happy to see him.

Spread & Share the ♥!
OOC: Cards/Gifts from your characters to their loved ones can be posted here!! Have fun!

WHO: Peter Fitzwilliams & Rose Knightley!
WHAT: SWIRLY-EYED EMOJI
WHERE: his flat!
WHEN: today!

( I promise, I won’t go anywhere. )

Miles felt, he felt, he felt everything! He could not sleep last night, he left bed early this morning and spent it poolside with Sabine, breakfast was barely touched, he felt nervous, but ready! Excited, but wanting to make every moment last a millennium. Most of all, he felt very loved, and told Mira so as often as he could, thinking it would never be enough. The morning had whirled by, they were married under the Moroccan sun, in the middle of the vast Sahara Desert that showcased the enormity of this step, how very little they were when it came to the rest of the world, making him think that they needed to take advantage of every moment they could. With his mind having been jumping everywhere all day, it was no wonder that Miles had already made his rounds about the room before the first course of dinner had been served. He'd lost Sabine to his sister, then their mother, and now it was time to find his wife and perhaps whisk her to the dance floor again? Or did she wish for cake? Or maybe to sneak away for a private moment because her dress made his hands twitch with anticipation of the evening--- "Mrs. Lufkin!" Miles let out, putting his hands up as if seeing Mira for the first time that day. He clasped his hands at his chest, and then bowed as if being graced by her presence (he was!). "May I have this dance?" He lifted his head to waggle his eyebrows, his smile brighter than it had ever been before.

WHO: Peter Fitzwilliams & Rose Knightley
WHAT: every holiday deserves its own plot
WHERE: Fitchburg, Mass!
WHEN: tonight!

( My first Thanksgiving was super great, Pete )

hogsmeade fright-fest | state dinner masquerade | trick-or-treating | and more...!

WHO: Peter Fitzwilliams and Rose Knightley
WHAT: Awkward date night
WHERE: Thomas McCormack's front porch
WHEN: FRIDAY night

( Letting out a breath, Peter looked back up at Rose and smiled sadly )

He should probably stop cooking. In fact Kendall should have stopped cooking long ago, at this point there was more than enough food. It was the only thing that could calm his anxiety. Staring at the spread on the counter, he tried to figure out what he was missing. Surely he hadn't gone through all the breakfast foods yet. Pancakes, waffles, crepes, omelets, french toast, eggs benedict. Oh, parfait. And muffins! Those were missing.

"I'm out of eggs." Kendall frowned picking up his bloody mary, moving over to sink into a chair at the table with his friends. Running out of ingredients put a quick halt to his cooking frenzy. He did not want to go to Germany any more than Rose wanted to go to the United States. He would have been just fine with the season ending. After this season, with the riots, the wards breach at Caerphilly, players getting attacked on the pitch, Kendall felt so done with quidditch. It was enough to make any player feel that way, but when he added on his dismal performance, Kendall wondered if it was even worth going to Germany.

"You should trade places with me, Rose." He pulled a waffle onto his plate, not feeling any better about this situation. He couldn't cook anymore, but he could eat. Rose should be staying in Europe to play, she certainly didn't deserve to be sent off to play in the US. "You can go to Germany, and I'll go play in the states. I'll fit in there better than you. Maybe I could even pick up quodpot."

WHO: Peter Fitzwilliams & Rose Knightley
WHAT: SOMEBODY got married (William Knightley)!
WHERE: some muggle wedding reception place in York
WHEN: tonight!

( This may not be the smoothest of rides )

It had been a very simple question: 'Are we drifting apart?'

And Rose hadn't... it occurred to her that... even though she asked Axe idly (it had truly been out of fear), she realized she already knew the answer. They had, of course they had. Things... weren't like they were before, they weren't like they used to be. He didn't... always stay with her at night, which was understandable considering Guy's sudden and violent reappearance, and she, in turn, had begun to... she didn't feel the need, the pull, to... be close to Axe. At first, Rose had thought herself proud for providing Axe the space she thought he properly needed. She thought it a mature response, something that showed how they had grown. But it hadn't... been that, had it? It should feel differently, this should feel differently.

She felt a bit cold. It was a cold, hollow feeling that spread within her upon realizing the relationship she fought so hard to maintain had very well may begun to splinter before them without even their realization. Looking down at her hands, Rose took the steady silence between the two of them as almost deafening.

They were.... breaking-up, weren't they? That was what this silence meant? A kind of... muted defeated in the face of something that... they had tried to avoid. Her hands fell to the couch cushion beneath her, her fingers playing with the fabric as she thought of what to say. What could she say?

"I don't... know what to say," Rose admitted, desperate to keep talking to him. Perhaps--- it was just a bump, perhaps... the shift, from being apart from so long, a... reflex? But even Rose knew she was lying to herself. They didn't... she didn't.... a hard frown settling on her face, as she looked up at Axe, feeling that her heart was on the cusp of breaking. But had it already? Had it already begun to? She swallowed, and pressed her hand to the side of her face in unwilling discomfort.

Tanner thought himself a rather smooth talker. There were many unfavorable situations he was able to get himself out of with a few quick words, charm, and a daring smile. He wasn't fool enough to think his Wizarding World Award nomination was based solely on his skill (if at all). No, he had his fans to solely thank for that. Goblins were the furthest you could get from fans, Tanner thought dejectedly as he settled down onto a bench outside of the bank. He knew before he even walked through the front doors that sweet talking a goblin was an impossible task, but what choice did he have but to try? Honestly it was a surprise he wasn't laughed out of the room. Tanner didn't have any sort of proof that he'd actually be able to pay the goblins back.

The races he had been winning hadn't been big enough to really make a profit. Since he was still really trying to make his way up, most of the time, he took his winnings and invested them into the next race. There really hadn't been much left over. Certainly not enough to pay for a new broom. He hadn't even paid for the one he had been racing on. When he had been a test rinder for Comet, they had planned to trash it when he pointed out a flaw or two in the charmwork that proved too dangerous for the model to be sold to the masses. It didn't mess up often enough for Tanner to think it a problem, and was more than capable of handling it if the broom suddenly decided it didn't want a rider anymore. They let him keep it after he signed all sorts of paperwork he probably should have read a little bit better.

He let out a long sigh as he rested his head in his hands. The race was on Sunday, and if he didn't show, there was no way for him to make back the money he spent on it. He would be back to where he started when he first entered the circuit. This loan had been a last ditch effort. All he had left was to what? Borrow a broom? He wasn't sure he could swallow his pride to do such a thing. The sound of his name wrenched Tanner from his thoughts, a smile defaulting on his face as he looked up to see who had taken notice of him. It turned a bit more genuine when he spotted his former housemate not too far off.

"Well if it isn't the loveliest flower to ever grace Ravenclaw tower," he greeted easily, "How have you been?"

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!

Knocking her head back against the locker behind her, Rose let out a great sigh. It was a relief, an encompassing release, that filled her, but it was not as long-lasting as she had hoped. In fact, the high that came with Axe's grip fell almost as fast as the resurgence to her foremind all the problems they had expertly ignored here tonight. They had not seen each other in a very long time, and yet--- she slowly, because now a painful feeling was beginning to settle in her heart, began to untangle herself from him.

The match tonight, of course, had been a disaster. The Catapults had lost, Carys had yelled at her four times for being a bloody idiot, and Rose couldn't even find it within herself to feel surprised. Her thoughts and focus, as they had been for a while now, were centered solely around the blond wizard pressed up against her, currently attempting to extract one of his hands from within the complex folds of her braided hair. The stark quiet of the room when it so hadn't been just moments ago was almost deafening, and to help break it, she purposely pushed her palms against the lockers for support as she wordlessly slipped off him.

There were many things that she wanted to say, wanted to say to him, and they flooded her thoughts all at once. How she had missed him, what had he been doing, where was he staying, had he missed her? Was he alright, how had he managed to look so--- together? Was this--- was this the end, was this their end? But Rose found that she couldn't find the words, couldn't force herself to evoke what she knew neither of them wanted to touch. So instead, she dropped her hand from his neck, cupping the back of it briefly before shifting to readjust her disheveled game robes. Her brow furrowed as she suddenly realized she couldn't look at him, an utter contrast to the hours before when she couldn't stop looking at him.