Throwdown of the Century

Padril smiled bashfully when Hallie asked about the 'girl' he had known, hoping it looked like he was shy more than he was lying to her. "Oh, just a girl," he explained, waving a hand. "You know, she was pretty and smart, but read books for the prestige of having them on their shelf rather than the pleasure of touching greatness. Like to imagine being friends with celebrities. Beautiful, but empty." He let himself use gender neutral language before assumptions had been made, but afterwards he'd adopt the pronouns of whatever the conversational partner had used. Hopefully that would be enough detail for Hallie; enough to seem intensely personal, but nothing that actually told you anything material about the person. Nothing you could look up.

The Hufflepuff took another drink, then glanced thoughtfully at Erika. "I would disagree," he began, then started to think better of his arguments. He didn't want to shoot the girl down the moment she got into the conversation, poor thing. The pessimism was painful though. "There are brothers and sisters too. Strangers who run into burning buildings. Altruism. Surely you don't think all people are all bad?" He wasn't entirely sure why she had added the bit about romantic love, and it left him confused. His head was pounding, and Erika seemed to be in several places at once.

Mavis Oakes wrote:Mavis continued to booty shake in the middle of the group, her fat rippling up and down as she did so. 'I'm Mavis!' The girl gasped, grasping Darcey by the hand and shaking it upon her introduction. 'I'm in Gry-' 

However before Mavis could continue her eyes had caught a table of neatly laid foods. There were custard creams, liquorice snaps, chocolate frogs and cheese and union pasties, the later an unusual food to be present seeing as they give one terribly bad breath. 

'FOOD!' Look everyone!' She screamed at the top of her voice as though nobody else were aware. If the booty popping and the spaghetti stain down her front didn't put people off her surely her odd attraction to the food was. Mavis didn't see that her bounding over to the table waving her arms like mad wasn't the norm, she was only trying to be helpful telling everyone there was food after all?

'Ooo. Look at all these goodies!' Mavis cried in excitement to a nearby Hufflepuff who simply stared at her then walked away. Poor Mavis. The sugar in her drink had turned her eyes a slight shade of blue, not that this was affect her behaviour. Oddball Oakes was her nickname after all. 

Without a care in the world she filled her arms with custard creams and pasties - the contents of which spurted on her white polo top having a party of it's own the spaghetti stain. 

Darcy suddenly found herself in a dead conversation. Padril had found himself caught up in a discussion with two girls, Molly seemed to have fallen silent, and Mavis was being attracted by the sight of food. Darcy was a bit worried about Mavis - the girl seemed to have no sense of self awareness - she she quickly bounded after her.

"Alright, then," she said, by means of getting the other girl's attention. "I'm starved too." The girl was getting her shirt covered in stains so Darcy waved her wand, cleaning the girl's shirt. "There yar go. The pastries any good?" She reached out and grabbed one for herself.

Mavis, who hadn't noticed that her shirt was a state, almost screamed in fright when Darcy turned her wand on her. Luckily no sound came out, although a mashed up mix of pastie's and custard creams dribbled down her chin. Yuck. 'Thanks!' Mavis gasped, watching the stains vanish before her unnaturally blue eyes.

'This cheese and onion pastie is-' ppffffrrrrrrrr 'Sorry about that!' Mavis cried in laughter, spraying pastry from her grubby mouth. Yet again Overweight Oakes had displayed another awkward social situation: parting gas. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had just immitated the sound of a trumpet, giving a comical effect, but the sauce from the spaghetti curdling in her stomach was starting to repeat on her - and not in a good way.

The stench that had exploded from the fat girls behind was causing groups of party-goers cringe, cover their mouths and run in the opposite direction gasping for air. Not that this helped, it had began to travel across the room of requirement rather than rising up to the roof. Many students turned their heads, laughing at the idea someone had dropped a stink pellet. That was until their caught sight of Mavis Oakes sniffing the scent up her wide nostrils. Mavis loved the smell of her flatulence, even if it did smell strongly of volcanic gas and cow feces.

"No problem," Darcy said, smiling. "When you're one of the few women stuck on a boat of dirty sailors for months on end, you learn a cleaning spell here or there, even if you're one of the messiest of the bunch." She grinned. Of course, she wasn't the messiest of the bunch, because the men seemed to have been born grimy. But she fit in pretty well with the dirty, slobbish sailors.

Darcy tasted the pastry she had picked and nodded her approval of the taste. "Wonderful!" The other girl farted and Darcy waved a hand, though she expertly ceased breathing in through her nose, just in case. "Once again, sailors. I sleep in the quarters with the rest of the men on a top bunk and... heat rises." She laughed.

Rika's head was bouncing like a bouncy ball. It was rather distracting really, especially when she was trying to put her side of an argument/discussion. God, it had been ages since she debated....those old trophies were still gathering dust at home. "Brenda, tell my head to calm down." She ordered aloud, rather unmindfully.

Then her eyes zoomed on Pad-whatever's face, and the contrast between the lazy comment before, and the coherence now, was downright flabbergasting. "I wasn't referring to love in general. I was referring to the typical non-platonic love which the two of you were discussing. I would love to believe in the Shakespearan ideal, Romeo-Juliet love, really I do. But in a place like Hogwarts...." She gestured to the gyrating audience around them. "People care too much about appearances, and 'normal' and 'popular' and.....tell me frankly, do you think people like you and me could actually find true romance in a place like this?"

You would never have said that if you weren't drunk.

True. She had just implied that the two of them were similar, which could possibly be a very grave insult if he decided to take it that way. But hopefully he knew what she meant. Romantic interests gravitated around people like Henri Finch or Brian Sullivan, and yes Rika might be making a very big assumption that the boy opposite her wasn't like them. But judging from his manner of talking, and that simplistic way of dressing.....Rika was hardpressed to take her words back. Hopefully he wouldn't interpret her statement as "You are a loser like me." She had just meant to empathise. If he did take it that way then.....she shrugged inwardly. Its not like she'd be losing a friend or anything. It was difficult to go lower than rock-bottom.

Padril was surprised by Erika's sudden turn-around, and her strange outburst, but was pleased when she started speaking coherently. Her argument was bitter and he felt slightly offensive, but at least she was arguing. He could stop handling her like glass waiting to shatter and actually have a real conversation, which was delightful. She sounded like she was debater- a blessed relief. Bless the Hufflepuffs, but most of them couldn't string together a coherent argument, let alone debate to the level of a Ravenclaw. He might actually be able to salvage his evening.

"Well, first let me state that I don't have much experience in the matter, being still sixteen" he said apologetically. "I suppose this puts us on the same footing then. Let's try and define this 'typical non-platonic love'. Is it monogamous? That would section off the large portion of the population who practice open-relationships or polyamory from love, which is certainly untrue. Is it everlasting? I would hope not; no person should want it to end, but I would argue that their highest priority is their partner, not their relationship. If the relationship needs to end to protect or help the partner, such as in the case of forbidden love, or political marriages, true love would allow for that. This love may also not be sexual; asexuals, and those who are physically incapable of having sex, can both surely feel love. Therefore, I would define the love we're discussing as altruistic-romantic love. Acceptable?"

Padril took a breath, then crossed one leg over the other. He paused for another moment while he prepared his arguments into something more succinct. "I also oppose the notion of Shakespeare only having an ideal of love," he continued, drawing on his father's influence in his life. Literature professors literally never shut up over Will Shakespeare, and during his separation from his wife, Mr. Crennent had almost never stopped waxing poetic over the plays. "Shakespeare didn't invent, or reuse, some old idea of pure, true love. He experienced it in his own life, and transcribed those feelings into plays and sonnets. They were all imagined complexly; Romeo and Juliet hardly had a perfect relationship, and they were both very concerned with appearances. Romeo fell in love with her at first sight, effectively telling Mercutio 'dang!' And these feelings and experiences aren't unique to Shakespeare, they're repeated all throughout literature and history. All the Victorians; Keats, Wilde, Byron. Heck, even the Bible has some beautiful verses. These people didn't just imagine their feelings, they were recording what they felt. Therefore, the Shakespearean ideal isn't so ideal, nor is it so hard to achieve or believe in. It is literally just love."

"Furthermore," he said hurriedly, wanting to finish his arguments before Erika responded. "I reject the notion that 'we' are different to 'them'. We are not some different class of people. We're not worse, and we're not better. There's never wrong with being concerned with appearances, so long as you're too judgemental. Even if you are though, you are still capable of love. We all are. Even in a place like Hogwarts, whatever that means."

Henri Finch wrote:
Henri brooded over the sink. Her spirit burned with indignation. She had never, ever had trouble getting what she wanted. Life was a game of her pointing at what she wanted, and then everyone tripping over themselves to grab it, put it on a platter, and humbly present it to her. She got to the point where she didn't even try. People just gave to her. Because she commanded sacrifice from her inferiors.

Hadn't Erika done that? Hadn't she presented her fate to her on a platter? UGH! Henri was so incredibly frustrated. Part of her wanted to release this anger. Slam Vivianna's head into the porcelain sink. Storm out and cause a scene. Take out a lighter, go to the greenhouses and... and...

Yes.

She looked up at Vivianna, her eyes again dead to sincere emotion. She stubbed her cigarette out on the sink, dropping it inside the bowl. "That was my cue." She smiled, opened the door, and flounced out. She ignored those who called to her, pushed her bouncer aside, and left the party completely.

Vivianna watched, helpless, as Henri left the room and then the party. The Slytherin wanted to follow her. She really did. The Ravenclaw was likely about to go do something stupid, dangerous, damaging, or all of the above. The redhead knew that there was no point though. By following she'd only agitate the girl further, and probably make Henri hate her along the way.

So, the teenager did the only thing she could do. Shutting the door again, Vivianna lent back against the wood and banged the back of her head on it. Sometimes, just sometimes, the girl wanted things to go her way. Was the occasional streak of luck or cooperation too much to ask? Apparently so. Closing her eyes the frustrated OWL student wished for something that could make this whole situation better.

Upon lifting her lids, the student was momentarily shocked to see that the room had changed. The sink was gone, and the room was many times larger. It took a moment for the witch to register that this was the room of requirement, so of course it listened to her. Looking out over the pool, Vivianna smiled. So perhaps the magical room couldn't fix anything, but it certainly could help her feel better.

Swiftly pulling off her boots, the student let them fall to the floor with an echoing clunk. Tugging her shirt over her head to reveal a black camisole, Vivianna took two running steps forwards, and dived.

A smile flashed across Hallie's face at Padril brushing who his love affair was with. It was nice to see that even Padril had experience love in his time. True he was a tad geeky but he, like Hallie, had found love and lost it. Wow. Now Hallie was thinking about the word love. The love that she had wasn't going to be handed to Brian on a platter, it was more a physical, exciting attraction. Perhaps Padril was right. The attraction she had to Brian wasn't worth over thinking. He was a jerk who had no regard for her feelings or existent. Brian certainly wouldn't be getting any anytime soon, not from Hallie at least - unless of course he entranced her again.

Resisting the urge not to giggle at Erika and Padril's hurriedly heating debate on what each viewed as love she noticed a couple of her friends on the dance floor. 'I am going to love you and leave you for a bit.' Hallie joked, choosing her choice of words wisely. 'Going to get my groove on, not point me sulking about Mr Seeker' The last two words of which she spoke in a mock tone. It was surprising how her emotions could change in an instant. That would be the female in her. 

Mavis giggled, someone who seemed to not be bothered by her! Not that the girl had ever learnt to read looks of disgust or avoidance, it was something all humans around her seemed to wear so why would Mavis think anything of it? 

'Are you a sailor?' Mavis gasped as Darcy began to explain about being around sailors and sleeping on a top bunk. 'But, what about school? Don't you have lessons? And what about your common room!? Do you not sleep there? Wait, is the ship in the black lake?' The list of never end questions seemed to flood from Mavis' mouth. She wasn't the curious type but when it came to people she loved asking questions and finding out about them, it was part of the process for making friends after all. 

Licking the pasty and cake from her finger tips, Mavis grasped another beaker of punch and began to down in whilst waiting for Darcy's response. A bubble of happiness rapidly rising in her at the prospect of making a friend; her eyes turning a more violent shade of blue and the room of requirement was slowly beginning to spin. 

Padril took a breath, then crossed one leg over the other. He paused for another moment while he prepared his arguments into something more succinct. "I also oppose the notion of Shakespeare only having an ideal of love," he continued, drawing on his father's influence in his life. Literature professors literally never shut up over Will Shakespeare, and during his separation from his wife, Mr. Crennent had almost never stopped waxing poetic over the plays. "Shakespeare didn't invent, or reuse, some old idea of pure, true love. He experienced it in his own life, and transcribed those feelings into plays and sonnets. They were all imagined complexly; Romeo and Juliet hardly had a perfect relationship, and they were both very concerned with appearances. Romeo fell in love with her at first sight, effectively telling Mercutio 'dang!' And these feelings and experiences aren't unique to Shakespeare, they're repeated all throughout literature and history. All the Victorians; Keats, Wilde, Byron. Heck, even the Bible has some beautiful verses. These people didn't just imagine their feelings, they were recording what they felt. Therefore, the Shakespearean ideal isn't so ideal, nor is it so hard to achieve or believe in. It is literally just love."

"Furthermore," he said hurriedly, wanting to finish his arguments before Erika responded. "I reject the notion that 'we' are different to 'them'. We are not some different class of people. We're not worse, and we're not better. There's never wrong with being concerned with appearances, so long as you're too judgemental. Even if you are though, you are still capable of love. We all are. Even in a place like Hogwarts, whatever that means."

"But that's exactly my point." Rike shook her head rapidly, really getting into it now. "Love, even in classics, is primarily concerned with appearances at first. Maybe I'm the one who has exceedingly high expectations of the word, and am defining 'love' all wrong, but I'd like to believe that the most exalted emotion in the world can't begin with something so shallow. I'd like to believe that romance can't be less concerned about appearances. But the truth is that, it is. If we're talking of Shakespeare, say in 'As You Like It'. Orlando fell for Rosalind's looks, and vice versa. Yes, later they came to appreciate each other's wit and so on and so forth, but beauty made the ball roll. And that implies the ugly and disfigured hardly have love knocking on the door, which is plain unfair. Of course I'm not putting that generalisation on everyone, there may be a few saints out there, but majority of girls are looking for their Prince Charming, and boys for their Miss Gorgeous. Beauty more than skin deep gets somewhere neglected in all this."

Maybe you should drink more often. It makes you ridiculously eloquent.

"I'm not saying that we're incapable of love, no one is." Rika stared into the floor, gaze boring deep. "But teenagers tend to be shallower than most, and Hogwarts is a great big filthy castle swarming with them. People notice the periphery, judge the cover, see the attitude and 'weirdness' and looks, and jump to conclusions. Quoting classics is nice enough, but we had a live experiment right here." Rika looked up and her eyes glimmered. Perhaps with moisture, perhaps something else. "I can bet you my right hand that if I had pulled the same stunt that Henri did, no one would have believed me. Everyone knows I'm a cowardly idiot, " This fact was delivered with a particular calmness of manner. "But most had no hesitance in believing me as a bully anyway. Because I'm weird and I talk to myself and I'm not half as good looking as Finch, and obviously that condemns every other good quality I may or may not possess. Even you were reluctant to converse with me, before ever knowing me, weren't you?" The tone wasn't accusing. It was calmly accepting. Everyone did it after all.

"So....." Rika tilted her head back, looking at the bright lights. They felt harsh, but comforting and non-judgmental. "I don't think love is a non-existent emotion in Hogwarts or any other high school, especially when you're pretty. But I've pretty much given up on ever finding it."