WHO: Carys Llewellyn and Tristan Bardera
WHAT: Early morning revelations!
WHERE: Catapults Locker room!
WHEN: Early this morning!

( That was it? That’s all he was going to say? )

Charlie was pretty sure he'd missed out on a wonderful career as a party planner. As he stared out at the dance floor, which he stood over on a platform where the DJ was spinning a mix of wizard and muggle music (even with some popular French songs that were actually pretty catchy if Charlie said so himself). He wasn't surprised at how many people showed up, but it still nearly startling to see how bloody happy everyone was to be there! Sure, some looked ridiculous with the fake mustaches that were passed out (not required, obviously), but a lot had actually grown out their beards and it was----cool, they tried, they wanted to be there and they wanted to have a good time. Charlie wanted to have a good time.

The Kestrels were not top of the pack, and while he believed in his team completely, the stress of the numbers had been getting to them. A night like this was necessary, and maybe it could rejuvenate the team that had lost some valuable members this season and had done a bit of shifting around. They were still trying to get themselves into place, and it needed to happen faster than it was.

Plus, Axe had been pissy all week that no one had acknowledged the anniversary of his birth.

Charlie grabbed the mic from the DJ and grinned, enjoying colorful scene laid out in front of him. funkybuddha club had been a perfect choice for the night, "Don't everyone tire themselves out! There's still a lot more festivites to look forward to!"

( enter funkybuddha club )

She was going to puke.

Carys paced back and forth in front of the desk of her office. Her office! Her office, given to her as captain! As captain! This was Griff's place, this was Griff's chair, this was---not her place. This was not where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be riling up her team, bouncing around like a mad woman and screaming at the top of her lungs. She was supposed to be at home with her son and husband, but with the Catapults' expectations of her it was nearly impossible to be relaxed at home and---how was she supposed to lead this team if she couldn't even figure out how to be on it anymore?

The only thing that was giving her any sort of comfort was her jersey. It had just been delivered and she had disappeared into her office to change, and catch her breath. Carys kept the velvet red jersey close to her, holding it to her nose but unable to actually don the blasted thing. If she put this jersey on, which was not only adorned with her new last name (she had to do some great gesture for Drake, after his), but it also had a blazing C, not for Catapults, not for Carys, but for captain.

The door creaked open from behind her and Carys turned to see Tristan's head peeking in. "I can't do this!" she squeaked.

Tristan knew that it was a terrible idea to just show up unannounced, but -- well, he'd said he was going to go and visit Psyke, but he'd been waiting for her to invite him. Her brother going through his divorce was going to be hard on the bloke, and he didn't want to apparate into the middle of something awkwardly and say something wrong.

Being hated by the family that you were supposed to be (eventually, okay!) involved with was probably not in his best interests.

But. But! It had been months since Psyke had moved, and he didn't really do anything outside of practice quidditch and go home to sleep (Merlin, maybe he ought to get a cat or something...). That just made Psyke's absence even more obvious, and he'd had enough of it.

He huffed out a breath of air and glanced down at his watch. It was almost verging on late, and it had started to rain... this was a perfect mess, was what it was. He took a breath and lifted his hand up to knock on the door.

Hopefully Psyke was going to answer, or this was just going to be awful.

Who: Tristan and Psyke!
Where: After quidditch, in the in-between area separating fans from players
What: Psyke has something to ask!
When: Uhhh now?


( (: )

Who: Psyke Brown and Tristan Bardera
What: Trying to help?
Where: Her house
When: Today?
Status: Finishing in comments!

( Griffith's doing a better job with the team now that everything's...out in the open. )

Who: Psyke Brown and Tristan Bardera
What: Awkward and angsty walk in the park
Where: A muggle park!

( She looked so blank. )

In all of her years at Hogwarts, in all of her years being a prefect and working on a team full of the best students in Hogwarts, Phoebe Smethwyck had never been as impressed as she was right now as she stared around the Great Hall. Illuminated with candles in all shapes and sizes (and colors, a nifty charm a sixth year had found), the tables surrounding the dance floor were decorated with pumpkins, spiderwebs, and fall leaves, creating a spooky, yet beautiful design. The Ghosts of Hogwarts had volunteered to mingle more than usual (she thanked Nearly Headless Nick profusely, and promised to hold him a belated Death-Day party), captivating the guests with stories---how much truth they held, she couldn't be sure, but they were interesting nonetheless.

The band was a new kind of wizard rock, a bit more political than the Hobgoblins, W.O.A.R. There had been a lot of discussion at the prefect meetings about whether or not they should try and book them, but at the end of the day the naysayers (read: the Slytherins) were outvoted, and the band with the hit song "Do You Believe in M.A.G.I.C" was creating an incredible atmosphere.

So---people looked happy. They were laughing, smiling, and just---happy. Not something Phoebe felt like the wizarding world had been in a long time, and she was glad to be a big part of it.

Now, if only she could find a reason to be happy, herself.

ooc: No wands! Just your ID is needed. Everyone is welcome!