BIG UPDATE AHEAD! First things first - the Fall 2021-Spring 2022 school year is officially over! Effective June 17, 2022 (IC), students are out for summer break. Please be sure to visit the 2022 SCHOOL YEAR ADVANCEMENTS & GRADUATIONS thread to either advance your student up to the next year, get held back, or graduate into their field of choice! Additionally, if you're interested in a Quidditch, Prefect, Representative, or Head position, be sure to reply to the FALL '22-SPRING '23 STUDENT POSITIONS APPLICATION thread!

Students need not head back home just yet - the school boards have all come together to throw a end-of-the-year carnival/festival that spans from the Friday evening until Sunday afternoon (June 17th-19th, 2022). Find out more about the Summer Shindig Festival HERE! Students will then be transported back to their respective schools and may head home from there.

Additionally, the ICW has made an official PRESS RELEASE regarding the 2022 Quidditch World Cup, which will be held next month in Jamaica! Details on the festivities leading up to and surrounding this wizarding worldwide event can be found in the press release. Quidditch players wishing to be signed to the national teams competing in the Quidditch World Cup are encouraged to sign up HERE!

Don't forget to support your team in the Hogwarts vs. Ilvermorny Quidditch match.

The third SPELLCRAFT Trial has begun here. Champions get ready for a physical challenge!
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Born: 20 August 1990
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Alias: Corinne
Age: 27
Timezone: HST
Mature: Yes
Sexuality: Bisexual
Character's Age: 17
Gender: Female
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Relationship Status: Single
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Nickname: Mor
Former School: Durmstrang
Joined: 4-November 17
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Local Time: Jul 21 2018, 03:41 AM
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Morana Vlcek

Ministry Official

My Content
Jun 9 2018, 09:06 AM
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<div class=youre style="background-image: url(">

<div class=familiar><div class=like><div class=my>
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&& Brynjar Hansen

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<i>A dance, a fucking winter dance.</i> No, not just a dance. A <i>ball</i>. Morana was mortified when the news broke that not only would there be a formal school function that she was expected to attend - but she was required to participate in the Champions' Dance in just a few weeks' time. Mor didn't do dances. She didn't do dresses, or dressing up, in general. And she certainly didn't do <i>performances</i>. If that was of any interest to her, she'd have joined the drama club.<p>

Of course, this news was music to certain students' ears. One in particular that came to mind was Iveta Stoichkov, who had expressed interest in practically being Mor's personal wardrobe consultant. She and her pack of fashionista cronies, for some reason, perceived Mor as their "OMG BFF" ever since she had been announced as the female SPELLCRAFT champion for Durmstrang. It was an ironic, interesting conclusion, seeing as they had shared seven years at Durmstrang together, and yet, had practically zero interaction prior to the Welcome Feast and subsequent announcements.<p>

They were <i>so</i> not Mor's type of ideal girlfriends. Come to think of it - Mor didn't really do friends. The few that she did have tended to <i>not</i> identify as female, but even then, they were few and far between. If the announcement itself wasn't enough, then it was Iveta's squawking about the cut of dress that Mor would look "fab" in followed by a very excited conversation about hair and nails that sent Mor running down the halls, up the ever-shifting stairs, and the hell away from these girls.<p>

Go figure, they didn't get the message - and followed. A chase ensued, but Mor, wearing Converse sneakers (and being more athletic in general) had a decided advantage on them in their heels. Several times, they got just in enough eyesight or earshot to prevent her from ducking to safety - but eventually, on the fifth floor, she had enough of a lead to slip into one of the rooms to ride out the storm of clacking heels, polished nails, heavy makeup, and designer bags that had been chasing after her.<p>

Notes of a guitar hit her ears, but then abruptly halted - indicating to her as she closed the door quietly, cautiously - before even looking - that a.) she was in the music room, and b.) she had just interrupted someone's jam session. <b>"Oh, sorry,"</b> she said hastily. Satisfied only once she heard the door click into place did she turn around, her eyes tracing around the other's figure. It was a bit shocking to find - out of four schools under one roof - that said other person was someone that she...definitely recognized.<p>

<b>"<i>Oh</i>,"</b> she repeated at the realization of whose presence she was in, and whose privacy she had just intruded upon. <b>"I-it',"</b> she uttered, her voice cracking. The Hvergelmir's stomach sank slightly, and she glimpsed back towards the doorknob, considering escape. What was more uncomfortable - dealing with the pretty, pushy princesses, or...<p>

<i>Brynjar.</i> Mor's encounters with Bryn weren't exactly unavoidable - Durmstrang was a smaller school as it were, and considering the two were not only Hvergelmirs but <i>both</i> on the Quidditch team and <i>both</i> upper members of Ulveflokk, they had a lot of opportunities to see one another, to say the least. And yet, Morana never felt so...transparent as she did when he was around. For as much as they wound up in one another's presence, he was <i>excellent</i> at making her feel as though she didn't exist.<p>

This year had been a bit different. For starters, Hogwarts was much larger - but SPELLCRAFT had also commanded a large amount of Mor's time. There was no Quidditch for her, and thus far, no Ulveflokk. Her lack of interaction with Bryn this year was more easily blamed on simple scheduling conflicts, versus him blatantly ignoring her. Which, to be fair, she preferred not crossing paths with him at all, versus standing directly adjacent to him and feeling as though she might as well be wearing an Invisibility Cloak.<p>

To be fair, she hadn't exactly done right by her fellow Hvergelmir, and he certainly owed her nothing - but it was still a shitty feeling.<p>

A sudden wave of loud, chattering voices coming down the hall helped the refugee to make her decision. Mor retreated further into the music room - it not only brought her within several feet of the sandy-haired sixth-year boy, but it also removed her from the view of the window in the door. Just to be safe, though, she sat down on the floor next to a shelf, hoping the angle would obscure her from view on the off chance that someone could even see this far in through the small window in the door.<p>

Well, if this wasn't an awkward situation. Quietly, she contemplated whether or not staying in here versus just going back out to face the music (ha, bad pun) was a terrible idea, but she had already committed. It would be easier to explain that she had to dart away for an emergency later, versus trying to explain why she had dodged into a room to play an impromptu game of hide-and-seek now.<p>

That line of thinking solved her absence from "girl time" and playing dress-up anyway - but now, she needed to tackle the next problem, which was hiding out in a room with someone who she had inflicted pain upon. Not the usual sort of sparring, hand-to-hand combat sort of pain, either. <i>Worse</i> - the kind that she neither wanted to acknowledge or admit to, the kind that took two close people and yanked them apart. Looking towards the ground, the brunette nervously fidgeted with her hands, mulling over what to say to Bryn.<p>

<b>"Still playing, hmm? That's cool,"</b> she said sincerely in her thick accent, daring to steal a glance at him. Considering the fact that she felt as though she hadn't existed in his eyes since his fourth year - her fifth - her insecurities came out to play, and she subconsciously felt it necessary to inform him of her intentions. <b>"Please don't make me go out there. I'll leave as soon as the coast is clear,"</b> she half begged, half stated decidedly. Her gaze lingered, and her expression looked as though she wasn't finished speaking - she <i>wanted</i> to say more, Merlin, there were so many words meant for Bryn that she had bottled up over the last year, so much unresolved - but nothing further rolled off of her tongue. Instead, she pushed it away, ignored it - just as sure as he'd ignored her the last two years.

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Jun 1 2018, 11:55 PM
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Mor's head bobbed upwards the second she felt the cement of the pool wall beneath her raw, outstretched hand. She had done it. Holy fuck, she had done it.<p>

Greeted with the sounds of cheers filling her ears, the Viking chants and sounds of victorious aggression that she knew only her fellow Durmstrangers could emanate, Mor flooded with pride. Smiling triumphantly up towards the crowd, she fist pumped into the air. She had earned this one. From years of physical training, both in and out of class - from Physical Education to Ulveflokk - Morana was a beast, and today, she was given the opportunity to let it shine.<p>

As much as the adrenaline coursed through her veins, she was more than happy to take a seat on the sidelines and wait for the other Champions to finish running the course. Time moved simultaneously so fast, and so slow, which was a weird phenomenon - a mixture of her mind being so high and her body physically gearing down and succumbing to the soreness, perhaps. As the last Champion crossed the line and she rose to ready herself to retreat back towards the Castle to clean and cozy up, she noticed her body quiver, and finally realized just how tired she was.<p>

The idea of holding herself up for a shower just wasn't sitting well with her at the present moment. Honestly, she wasn't positive that her legs wouldn't entirely give out from under her - and she wasn't exactly eager to test that theory. She had heard rumors of the Prefects' Bathroom boasting jacuzzi tubs, and quite frankly, wanted to see for herself. As it turned out, being a SPELLCRAFT Champion came with its' perks (thankfully, to offset the annoyances - like dressing up and having to interact with others), one such one being that finagling the password to the bathroom out of someone for whom it was actually meant for was a good hundred times easier than the trial she had just completed.<p>

After a brief retirement to her dorm to gather some "shower gear" - a pair of plastic sandals, a towel, a loofah, some soap - as well as to slip into her simple, black bikini which she hid beneath her robe along with her intentions, Mor made her way up to the fifth floor, and, after a few shifty eyes down the corridor to ensure the coast was clear, slipped inside with an utter of the word that was not intended for her lips.<p>

She had zero regrets.<p>

Stepping out of the bland hallway and into a bathroom full of golden fixtures, floating bubbles, a warmth that felt like a soft hug wrapping around her, and a sweet scent hanging in the air, Mor sighed happily. She set down her caddy of shower supplies and disrobed down to her bikini, wasting little time to slide into one of the jacuzzi tubs. Steam rolled off of the surface as her cool skin met with the heat of the water, which felt so soothing, penetrating her aching muscles.<p>

To the side of the jacuzzi, little vials were neatly lined up, a variety of what appeared to be bubbles and salts and effervescent tablets. With an interested <i>”ooh”</i>, Mor reached out, grabbing one of the salts, and one of the tubes containing effervescent. Pouring them into the water with her, a pleased moan escaped her lips as the properties of the salt further soothed her pains, and the contents of the other vial caused the water to fizz and foam around her, creating an interesting - but not necessarily unpleasant - tingling feeling on her skin. Leaning back into one of the molded seats of the gurgling tub, Mor exhaled peacefully, closing her eyes and allowing her head to gently fall back against the tile. She could lay here forever. She could...doze off, drift away...maybe she was...maybe she already did...

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Jun 1 2018, 01:46 AM
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<div class=familiar><div class=like><div class=my>
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Mor's seventh year had come with a lot of surprises, twists, and turns - but perhaps none so shocking as the sheer amount of times that the tomboy had found herself <i>dressing up</i> this year. The brunette frequently donned such lackluster garments of clothing as jeans, t-shirts or flannels - and always the same dirty, beat-up pair of Converse low-rises. Furthermore, "jewelry," "makeup," and "hairdo" appeared to not exist as words in her vocabulary.<p>

And yet, here she stood, entering the Great Hall as awkwardly as she had shuffled into the SPELLCRAFT Champions' Dinner just a few months earlier. No band tee and ripped jeans, no Chucks, no ponytail, no nude face. Instead, in their place - an off-the-shoulder burgundy colored ball gown, strappy gold heels, and a seemingly complete makeover of her face and hair - from the metallic rose shimmer eyeshadow to the side braids on either side of her head that trickled down into a fancy ponytail of waves and curls. She forced an awkward laughing smile and a tense, brief wave at a group of girls who seemed excited for her arrival, conveniently shifting her gaze from them as one attempted a beckoning gesture.<p>

Pfft. She didn't know them.<p>

Hesitantly entering the mass of bodies - partially because she was not confident in her ability to walk in heels, and partially because she just felt so damn out of place - she found a few more single individuals as well as groups of people greeting her. It varied - some just waved sheepishly, while others called out her name, something that she still wasn't used to hearing a complete stranger utter so familiarly. It was an unwanted side effect of representing Durmstrang, she supposed.<p>

As she had done at parties where she either felt alone or had intended on being alone, Mor found herself wandering towards the punch bowl. Though it would appear that Hogwarts had gone all out, and the punch bowl was more of a diamond-encrusted fountain - whereas the snack table was closer to that of a buffet line of fancy hors-d'oeuvres. Grabbing a cup of punch - which she severely hoped was spiked by now - she ignored a few more attempts at random Yule Ball attendees coaxing her over and headed for a less populated corner of the venue.<p>

Her movements were gawky, and her legs moved in a stiff manner as she made her way over. Heels were not her forte. In fact - they were so much <i>not</i> - that somewhere between the punch fountain and the corner she had her eye on, she felt a crunch beneath her foot, and her frame stumbled forwards in a most inelegant manner. Gripping her cup tight, she tried to steady herself from falling, and in doing so, found herself colliding with the nearest person, her free hand reaching out and grabbing them for stability.<p>

<b>"Sheeeet! I am so sorry,"</b> she exclaimed in English, though her thick, Serbian accent shined through. Her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, and they slowly began to turn the shade of her dress. Apparently, as she had tripped forward, she raised her drink up in the air, hoping to not spill any. Looking around, she didn't see any on herself. Phew. Although she was confident in her ability to not commit a party foul, even more so with seeing no spillage on herself, she asked with concern, <b>"Deed I geet any on you?"</b> Lowering her arm, she finally turned to directly look at whose personal space she had encroached upon by holding on tightly.
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Apr 6 2018, 01:44 AM
day 1 - maybe later
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