The Ministry formally advises that all contact with muggles and their world be kept to a minimum. Muggles are an admittedly useless creature, far inferior to our abilities and knowledge. The Ministry advises those who have made it clear they are blood traitors are not to be reckoned with or kept informed of the goings on within our world as they have made their choice.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Regent’s Park
May 21

Stars. Always stars. They had missed them so much. No more white. But there were no stars tonight either. Bruise colored clouds swirled quickly as they stared up. They had managed to find clothes at least. Well… Acquire was probably a better word for it. They had replaced more white with comfortable but too big jeans and a floppy sweater. At least it was better than the blood spattered scrubs they had been wearing. Less conspicuous too. Corrigan huffed at the sky. They really weren’t sure what to do from here. They had spent the last week trying to remember how to be a person. After a year in the white it was hard. Hard to remember to eat, to sleep, to drink, to do most anything. There was no more rules or schedules or experiments or training. No more… Corrigan’s head jerk to the side and they shook it quietly, letting their head fall back and eyes focus on the sky again automatically.

Stars. Always stars. They had missed them so much. No more white. But there were no stars tonight either. Blue eyes scanned the clouds in irritation but Corrigan realized they were blinking far too much, their eyes almost being stuck shut. It wasn’t until they shook their head and their wild blonde hair clung to their face like seaweed that they even realized it was pouring around them. Taking a slow deep breath, Corrigan savored the smell. Ozone, damp, the park’s lush greenery and flora. Dirt. Stars, they had missed the smell of dirt. Honestly, of all the things that still got them caught up and struck dumbfounded with their newfound freedom, it was the smells. The pure real smells of everything instead of the filtered air and antiseptic of the white place. Not for the first time in the week or so that Corrigan had been on their own did the actual realization flash through them.

It lanced through them so rapidly and powerfully that they weren’t even certain if that had been the lightning of the storm around them or their own sparks that lit up the area around them. Either way the static in the air was suddenly buzzing and the rain was hammering against soft leaves and thunder rumbled in the distance. A natural orchestra for a private celebration. A smile split their face at that and they tugged the ratty sneakers they had found off tossing them to the side. Rolling their neck slowly, Corrigan raised her arms and crossed them at the wrist. They really weren’t sure what strange possession had overtaken them but the need to dance despite- no, in spite of everything that had happened. That fire consumed every fiber, burning them into frayed edges that could only sway and twist with them. Corrigan twisted and shimmied and just let their feet lead the way for the rest of their body. They didn’t even realize they had shut their eyes, enjoying being lost in the music of the storm. Corrigan certainly didn’t realize that in their delighted dancing their sparks were running rampant, dancing as freely as they were on their skin and arcing into the small clearing.
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by: Damien LeMarch
He was somewhere outside Mayfair when the drugs began to take hold. Damien remembered that he had decided to take a walk because his head was feeling fuzzy. Suddenly, there was a great roaring sound all around and the sky was filled with bright fairies swooping and dancing all around him and he was running from them at what felt like a hundred miles an hour.

Damien was high on peyote and out of his mind as he ran through Hyde park in the rain. Everything felt just so damned beautiful. It didn't matter to him that thick purple clouds obscured the sky. The dancing lights he saw were stars themselves. A crash of lightning made him yelp and dart through the park again. The yelp turned into a howling laugh and a chest-heaving pant as he crashed through the bushes into a clearing, falling flat on his face. The grass tickled his nose and caught his attention.

Blades of slick herbage stood tall from the moist earth like spearshafts or a forest. Damien breathed heavily, watching the gusts of his breath storm through the tiny forest of spears. The rhythm of the in and out and back and forth calmed him enough that he could take in the rest of his surroundings. Where was he? There were trees all around him, bushes, soil, and grass. Nature was all around him and it was all emeralds and ebony and silver. The glistening bark on the trees shimmered and glittered with a flickering light. Damien stared at the wavering and metallic sheen as it danced and fluttered through the sky.

In the center of the clearing, a will-o-the-whisp glittered and sparked as it communed with the storm.

"Sparks and Stars..."

Damien breathed out the title, smiling and crooning happily as he sang to her dancing, giving her a tune to dance to. Her blue light reflected in his eyes as he laid in the mud watching a sprite of sparks.
Last edited by Damien LeMarch on Tue Oct 03, 2017 6:08 am, edited 1 time in total.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Their skin may have been deadened but it didn’t change all the feelings and sensations that were building to a whirlwind inside them. Perhaps the lack of feeling only heightened their emotions instead. All their negativity was congealing together as they danced and being washed away by the rain. The oversize clothes were sopping up water and weighing their movements down more as they tried to dance causing the briefest spark of annoyance before that too was sloughed off by the rain. It was almost peaceful until someone’s voice broke Corrigan’s concentration.

”Sparks and Stars…”

They whirled in surprise, their sparks shorting out in a bright flash and crackle. The soft vocals coming from the direction of the words caused their wide blue orbs to settle on the thin man sinking into the mud. At least he didn’t appear to be a threat. And he wasn’t freaking out about their powers. Corrigan unconsciously swayed to the music being sung for them as they hesitated in their surprise. Slowly, cautiously Corrigan approached the man. He hadn’t bothered to pick himself out of the dirt and was staring at them with a glazed dreamy look in his dark eyes. It was weird. He was staring at them like they were something beautiful to behold, not like he had fallen into a clearing with a monster.

Kneeling in front of him slowly, they tilted their head at him. Despite how strange he appeared Corrigan realized they must have been quite a strange sight as well. Drenched to the bone, clothes clinging and shifted on their form from dancing, blonde hair gone stringy and sticking to their face and neck. They probably looked like they had just broken out of asylum (which was not necessarily untrue but still). Yet, this man was staring at them with wonderment in his eyes. It was weird. Uncomfortable even and made their heart speed up in slight panic at the blatant acknowledgement.

”Hey? Are you okay?” they tried softly, starting to become a little concerned that he hadn’t moved more than to start singing. He was probably cold from the rain and being covered in filth at this point so getting him to move seemed like the best plan right now.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Yeah, the drugs had really taken hold. His hallucinations were concerned about him, which was always a sign he was in for a weird trip. Damien rolled to his back and stared at the sky. He had to blink more from the rain, making tracks of water leak from his eyes like the tears of a blessed Madonna statue or something.

Religion...phaugh...this was his religion. Music and mescaline. A laugh bubbled up from him as he considered that rambling thought. The sacraments of psilocybin. The meditations of mescaline and marijuana. Yeah. His faith was weird, but it was steady and undemanding. He wasn't a slave to it like the Catholics parading in and out of the cathedrals near his postage stamp apartment. He wasn't guilty from it because music had no sins. He was free.

Damien sang again, letting the lyrics wave in the sky like a banner hanging over him. They came easily and branded his consciousness in the way that songs did when they wanted to exist.

"If all our life is but a dream...Fantastic posing greed...Then we should feed our jewelery to the sea...For diamonds do appear to be...Just like broken glass to me..."

He burbled another laugh, eyes darting left and right as he hummed. He was getting tired, eyes fluttering and breathing slowing as he laid wrapped in the storm and drugs.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Oh. That voice. Just… Wow. Corrigan was so caught up in listening to his small song that it wasn’t until his laughter broke out that they were able to snap themself back to the present. The man was settled, resting his head and closing his eyes. His breathing had changed too and- Was he going to fall asleep? In the rain and muck and and- ! Corrigan’s pulse jumped back to life, racing into their throat in concern. They might not be able to feel the temperature but even they knew sleep exposed like this was a bad idea.

”Hey! No! Wake up you!” they demanded the panic evident in their voice now, ”Come on. You can’t sleep out here. It’s not safe. Hey. How can I help?” Their hands fluttered near his head, watching his hair raise in static before Corrigan jerked their hands away from him. Looking around, Corrigan grabbed a twig from the mud prodding him in the back to wake him.

”Come on. Wake up. Hey. You need to stay awake,” they demanded again, ”How can I help? Where are you supposed to be?”
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by: Damien LeMarch
Hey moon, please forget to fall down...

Damien sailed happily through his lyrics, unable to criticize their images or flow. He was relaxed and free. It was a beautiful night. Sparks and Stars came over to him and said something. Her liquid voice flowed through the air and made him pause. She was something, wasn't she? Jacob's Ladder electricity climbed her hair and he was mesmerized. A bolt lightning from Zeus. A Storm Maiden from Odin's court. He drifted again until she prodded him.

"Home is Soho...should we go home? I guess. It's the storm, though. It's so pretty, and it's the song in me. It's...can you see the storm, Sparks and Stars?"

He raised an arm and pointed to the rollicking clouds. They were ponderously flowing through the sky and churning and solidifying like butter. Damien could lay here all night and watch the clouds dance.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Corrigan blinked at him following his motioning. ”Yes. I can see it. But you shouldn’t be out here so long. I’m gonna help you home. I think you’re sick and the rain can’t be good for you,” they commented quietly. They paused at the nickname. That was them he had been talking about? Sparks and Stars. He saw stars in her? The irony of her being thunderstruck to silence wasn’t lost on Corrigan. It took a few frozen moments for her to recollect her thoughts and plan.

”We? I mean I am going to help you home,” Corrigan said seriously.

Genuinely she wasn’t sure what was driving her to help this thin man. He looked weirdly familiar but other than that there was no reason for her behavior. If anything she should have just taken his wallet and left him in the dirt. But then maybe it was the happy helpless thing. Whoever this man was, he needed help. And that’s what they were good for. Corrigan’s head twitched at the thought though not nearly as violently as it had earlier. A few blinks refocused her and she looked at the form in the mud.

With a heavy sigh, Corrigan moved to his side a bit. ”I am going to help you up. I’m going to touch you okay?” she clarified with the man. She looked at her hands, forcing the sparks lower and into her skin to thrum in protest there.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Damien watched her carefully and listened to her declaration that she was going to help him. He said nothing, certain that his hallucination could hear his thoughts as he continued to dance mentally through the lyrics in his soul. She bent and dripped water on him. The water felt like an echoing gong ringing through this soul.

"Bong....I should see if I could sample bells for the next, that's not right. That song's not a bell song, is it Sparks and Stars? No...acoustic motherfucker gonna be all soft and fluffy...okay, up and home and tea? Yeah. If I have tea I should."

He knew by now that taking a hallucination's hand to stand up was a bad way to go, so while he took it to placate the vision, he didn't lean on her or use her for leverage. Damien stood and swayed, half greenish brown from the muck on his clothing.

"Right...home and shower and write down the storm song and tea and sleep..."

He started off, still holding her hand as he rambled quietly to himself.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Corrigan was floundering at his behavior. ”Uh. Yeah. I don’t really like bells but acoustic is always nice. And violin can add a sharp note if you really need that,” she murmured. Her face sparked in embarrassment at the display of her musical knowledge. She was still getting used to be able to enjoy those without being in trouble for it. Even if this man was delirious at least it was nice to talk about music again. And honestly him being delirious worked out better for her. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember the strange display he had seen tonight. Then neither of them would be in danger.

Frowning, she glanced at their connected hands squeezing his a bit. Disappointment crossed her features briefly. Just pressure. Not that she had expected some miracle to appear and grant her the ability to feel. Still it made holding someone’s hand unnerving. But Corrigan didn’t trust this man not to fall over if she didn’t act like his mostly-human leash. She let him lead then looked at him thoughtfully.

”Tell me more about the storm song,” she insisted with a smile. Hopefully the directive would let him focus on something enough not to lead her all over the city.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Violin...yeah, that could work, except...

"But I don't know anyone who plays the violin..."

And she wanted to hear about the song? Well, he didn't feel like telling her. Instead, he was going to sing it for her. Damien took a deep breath and started singing, stayi g soft and letting the patter of the rain be his guide for the beat. It was a terribly syncopated beat, so he abandoned that quickly and just went with a simple rhythm instead.

He sang, letting the words wander appropriately as the tune fleshed itself out. He let the song lapse into silence and grinned, still holding Sparks and Stars' hand as he entered his neighborhood. It was best to stay quiet here. The rough neighbor's would be asleep and he really didn't want to get beaten again. Why did that thought make him giggle? He led his vision and muse to the door of his squalid little home and let them in.

"Home, home...what was I going to do again?"

He spaced out, staring at his guitar as he tried to remember what he had planned. A shower? That, but there was something else...something, something tea and writing...uh...
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Corrigan knew how to play one. If only she had one. But then it had also been years so maybe she didn’t know how to play anymore. Either way she should keep her mouth shut; not like she was going to stick around long enough to play for him anyways. Even with all the logic in her mind, Corrigan still heard the words tumbling from her lips despite her best efforts.

”Well… I know how to play. I could show you.”

Sparks lit up her face then and she turned away from him in embarrassment. Stupid. Stupid tongue. Why wasn’t it listening to what her brain demanded instead of what her heart wanted? A sigh escaped her. At least with how out of it the man was he most likely wouldn’t remember her slip up anyways. Suddenly the music burst out of him and it felt like drowning and burning all at once. It stopped too soon and she pouted at the loss. The lyrics rattled around in her head, leaving her breathless as she returned her focus to the new setting. Corrigan looked around the little apartment with a small frown. It wasn’t much but at least he had a roof over his head rather than sleeping in the rain and muck like she had been. HIs question drew her eyes back to him.

”Shower, write your pretty song, tea, sleep,” she reminded him gently. If she could at least get him on the track of doing those things, Corrigan would be able to slip out and she would be nothing more than a weird dream.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Show him? She was an amalgamation of his drug habit and imagination; if he were to get overly thinky about it, he'd probably implicate his magical heritage along with the drugs as to why she looked the way she did. Damien listed off the points that proved she was a hallucination and all the connections that provided the facts as they stood:

Blonde and blue eyed beauty: a call to his veela heritage.
Sparks: energy and passion. Electricity spoke to his muggle lifestyle since wizards didn't use electrical appliances.
Dancing: his secret expression of joy and freedom.

This was a happy high, so his hallucination spirit protector was of COURSE going to be a representation of his whole self. Damien smiled when she reminded him of his list. That's why she was here, after all. His hallucinations either helped or harassed, and she was one of the helpful ones.

Damien stripped and headed for the shower, unconcerned that Sparks and Stars just got a show. Hallucinations didn't care, after all. He turned the water on and shivered through a quick shower. He finished quickly and wrapped himself in a towel after drying off. He came to his little card table in the kitchen area and set the kettle to boil water, then pulled a notebook down from the shelf. He thumbed through it quickly and tucked the pencil, normally stored between the pages, behind his ear. With the notebook prepped, he twisted and got his guitar out and began to play, wandering along the notes while he hummed to himself. He broke into song again, finally putting guitar to it.

"Through playful lips made of yarn/That fragile Capricorn/ Unraveled words like moths upon old scarves/I know the world's a broken bone/ But melt your headaches, call it home."

He stopped all musical activity and became a laser's edge of focus, grabbing the pencil in a flurry of writing. He finished just as the tea kettle whistled at him.

Damien stood and went to his cupboard, looking for tea. All he had was a few bags of black tea flavored with orange and spice. He made a mug with a generous amount of sugar, then sat back down to drink it. He nodded to Sparks and Stars. She was persisting longer than his other guides...

"If you drink tea, you're free to make some for yourself."

He wasn't going to make real tea for an imaginary person...they usually snubbed it. But if he invited them to make it themselves, there was no issue.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Okay he seemed to be focusing again and actually doing things on his own and- Oh stars above he was stripping. Sparks jumped across her face through her hair and down her body as she turned away from him as he started to lose his pants. Dammit all. This had gotten weird. Really fast. But he was moving now. That was good at least. She could probably gracefully see herself out but the anxious embarrassment had taken residence in her chest and locked her legs in place. Dammit it all. Why was she panicking? Her hands were shaking and breath was choking and sparks surging more under her skin.

Soft guitar and that voice. Rough and low but still beautiful. Lulling and safe. Safe. Corrigan breathed in at the song. It was easing the choking feeling in her. The trembling was worse but she could breathe. But seriously that voice; how had that voice fit into that thin body? The music incited all kinds of emotions; concern, hope, and curiosity. Gentle emotions that lulled her down from the cliff she was standing on.

Swaying on her feet, she fell into a seat and looked up at the man. ”What?” she asked blankly voice choked in her throat so the sound was higher pitched. He said she could have tea? She couldn’t even stand up right now. Her eyes finally settled on the man and the dawning realization of his persistent nudity save for the towel. The squeaking wheeze choked her throat again in surprise. The trembling started again in embarrassment and Corrigan’s loss of how to deal with the sudden situation she was in.

How was she supposed to disappear when she couldn’t stand or talk? Oh, this was not good.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Dreamy dark eyes drank in the girl's stuttering emotions. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, as blue as Hope, as blue as blue could be. Damien lost himself just staring into the sky-sapphires of his Sparks and Stars, a soft smile on his face. Steam continually rose from his tea, forgotten in his hands. Her lashes looked dark from a distance, but Damien could see they were a dark amber gold, like her eyebrows. Water still clung to her. No, rain. She was wet with rain and drenched in his music. Had he Lured his guide? He must have. She was stuck in her seat and speechless. Must be fading time then, if she was losing her words. That was the first sign that the drugs were wearing off. He started playing his guitar again as he addressed her.

"Sparks and Stars, you're covered in a storm, still. All rain and wet. Can I help you get dry and comfortable before you go?"

Damien gave his guide a sweet smile as he continued to play for her, soothing and calming.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Her eyes had locked on his fingers. He had piano hands; long elegant fingers that were clearly talented with instruments. The strumming of the guitar was eating away the edges of her anxiety. It was calming her in a way that only music really could. If he kept playing like that she'd be captured in this chair all night. Trapped. How had she managed to be trapped but not feel like she was? His calm, even sweet, demeanor had all her defenses lowered especially when combined with the almost delusional way he was behaving. Or maybe it was the strange look he was still giving her. Like he could not only see her but was memorizing every bit too. Either way, Corrigan recognized that the tentative relaxation and trust she was putting into this situation was dangerous.

His question drew Corrigan out of her thoughts. Glancing down at herself only confirmed his assessment, though she did realize as she lifted her hands that the tips of her fingers looked pinkish purple and swollen. She must be too cold. She hasn't even considered what being out in a rainstorm might due to her own body. A small curse escaped her lips as she moved her hands into fists then released them waiting for the telltale ache of hypothermia but not reading any response.

”...Warm…” she managed to choke out flexing her fingers at him desperately. Once Corrigan had gotten warm and dry then she'd be safe to leave and at least three man had also acknowledged that she wouldn't be remaining much longer.
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