iris-elliana espanosa de wills.

half-spanish. sixteen. ravenclaw. sixth year. metamorphmagus. twin to rosie-ofelia. sister of matthew. fun-loving. feisty.

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iris and huntercarney haha aw

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iris & hunter

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  “This is all your fault, Iris. All your fault.” Hunter laughed shaking his head, making his way to Diagon Alley where a club he had heard about resided. This was the third club they were going too for the night and he was already feeling a tiny bit buzzed from the amount of alcohol he had consumed. The first two clubs were normal, mundane clubs for the muggles but the one they were going to were designed for the magical creatures of wizards and witches.

The Dancing Pixies of Lockharts, the sign read and Hunter looked intrigued and nudged Iris inside following closely. He laughed hysterically, the name wasn’t wrong, there were pixies flying throughout the whole club, casually dancing and causing havoc. It was such a fantastic sight to see, instinctively, Hunter reached up and grabbed one of the tiny creatures between his index finger and his thumb and shoved it down Iris’s shirt, falling onto his knees laughing as he watched the Pixie fight the fabric that Iris was wearing.

Hunter grabbed onto her hand and led her to the bar and ordering two fire whiskey’s and set up a tab in his name. Turning to his friend, he grinned at her, giggling. He had heard that the old professor and notorious Gilderoy Lockhart had gone insane for a while, forgetting everything about himself and everything around him, and this is how he made up for his life: a club. He must have regained his memory as posters of his old books and photoshoots were all over the walls but Hunter thought they were mocking and a joke: a metaphor for the failure of a life he had once, and now he was doing so much better, but earning a lot less.

“What do you think of the place? Extraordinary isn’t it? See, I told you those two clubs we went too first was going to be a waste of time! You need to listen to me more, girly.” 

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huntercarney

“Don’t blame me!” Iris giggled as she stumbled her way into the strange new club that Hunter Carney had insisted on visiting. The sixteen year old Metamorphmagus wasn’t even of age, but that didn’t stop her getting into any club that she wished whenever she wanted. The gift of being able to change her appearance whenever she wanted to had always been useful to Iris, known as Rissy to her friends. Upon entering the first two clubs of the night she had been able to transform herself into a much older, middle aged Witch with long dark hair and piercing grey eyes; needless to say, nobody had attempted to card her. “The Dancing Pixies of Lockharts?” Iris repeated incredulously, a bemused smile appearing upon her face. “Where on earth have you taken me, Hunter?” the young girl gave her companion a sly smile before taking on the same disguise as before, and making her way into the club without question. Once inside, she adjusted herself with concentration until she was once again the Iris-Elliana that Hunter knew. Small and lithe, Iris had the frame of a ballerina despite never having done any exercise in her life. Her body was tanned, as though she had just got back from a week-long trip to California, a look further accentuated by the beachy waves of her long strands of sandy blonde hair. Her baby blue eyes were soft, dazed within her intoxication. Iris Elliana Espanosa de Wills was, in short, absolutely beautiful. But what else was a Metamorphmagus expected to be? Iris’ eyes scanned the club, taking in the intensity of the scene with an uncertain smile. She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or amused. Either way, the song which was blaring from the speakers was one she loved and so she started dancing, not caring at all that the dance floor was feet away and that the two young students were blocking the entrance. “I like it… it’s groovy.” Iris laughed, turning to handsome companion with a bright smile which soon changed to an expression of shock and horror as Hunter shoved the pixie down her chest. “Hunter!” she practically screamed. “You are disgusting!” she cried, her hand instinctively racing underneath her shirt, picking the pixie up and flinging it away. “You owe me a drink for that!” she stated firmly, and followed Hunter towards the bar, hand in hand.

Iris had recently found herself rather taken with alcohol. She downed shots before breakfast, and turned up to her classes completely wasted. It was like a compulsion, she felt like she had to get a few drinks inside of her just to make it through the day. Like her Mother, she was fierce, she was witty, yet she was vulnerable to addictions and compulsions. Going out with Hunter had probably been a bad idea, but as if Iris needed another excuse to drink? At least this time it was with a friend, it was social, and she wouldn’t find herself throwing up in the girl’s bathroom all alone. Iris downed the Firewhisky as if it was pumpkin juice, quickly ordering another. “Can you imagine the look on old Lockhart’s face if he knew we were in here?” she shouted to Hunter amongst the sound of the blaring music and crowds surrounding them. “You’re gonna have to dance with me tonight Hunter Carney.” She giggled, taking another gulp of the Firewhisky. It burned her throat, almost comfortingly. With Firewhisky and Hunter Carney as a combination, surely it was impossible to be unhappy.

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connor & iris.

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Connor Carney wasn’t under the slightest illusion that he had returned to Hogwarts too early after his Father’s horrific death. One week, three days and — he glanced down at his mechanical watch — eight hours ago his father’s lifeless and beaten body had been discovered by a couple of muggles just outside of London. At the time they had found it Leo Carney had still been in his majestic were form only there was a small difference; his head had been removed. Dangling from a gleaming light pole was the bloody body of a six-hundred pound lion and on the tarmac beneath it lay the creature’s terrifying head. He had been de-fanged, de-clawed and his tail was nowhere to be seen.

The Order of the Phoenix arrived on the scene to retrieve their fallen comrade before any Aurors and the Ministry could get their hands on it. No doubt it was the fault of Death Eaters and dark wizards alike but there had been no witnesses, no proof and they didn’t have a solid name to blame it on. Hours after his retrieval he reverted back to his human self as he lay dead in the family’s cellar. It was a sight Connor and his younger brother Hunter hadn’t meant to see but they had seen it nonetheless. Tradition in a pride of were-lions was that the next male in-line became the alpha and so the position had fallen to Connor, a boy of no more than eighteen and one that was already struggling with who he was as a person without having the weight of a whole family of his own kind depending on him.

He wasn’t his father — he never would be. Sure he had the parts; a prestigious mane, a powerful tail and teeth and claws that could slice through most things. But he didn’t have the strength; he didn’t have the skills needed to lead a minority of people through the upcoming Wizarding war. They could all practically smell it brewing on both sides.

With his mind elsewhere and mostly on trying to control his newfound strength from ripping through his school uniform, Connor hadn’t realised Iris had entered the room until she sat herself by him. His mosaic eyes of green, blue and shards of orange glared out the window to his left and he blocked out the classroom. He shut off his senses, he stared at the drops of water on the glass and his right hand clenched into a fist while the other grasped at his arm. His claws had extended out and were digging into his skin to the point where blood began trickling from his palm onto the worn and grafittied table but it didn’t bother him. He would heal in a matter of seconds as soon as he removed the mass of keratin from the tissue. The lion was shaken from his snarling red thoughts and he looked startled, more like a deer caught in headlights than the predator hunting it.

Alcohol prickled at the innards of his nose and the skin along the bridge crinkled in mild disgust. “Are you drunk?” Connor didn’t need an answer for he could smell it seeping from her very pores. His wounds healed but the blood dried into his wrinkled palm and he brushed it absently down the leg of his trousers. “Again?” His beautiful orbs rolled in irritation and his heavy eyebrows rose. Was he going to be babysitting her for the rest of his academic career? Why couldn’t she have been addicted to sex or something great like that. That he could have helped with. A gleam of red flashed across his eyes and he ducked to sling his back over his shoulder and grab her arm.

“Come on drunkard — we’re going to sober you up.” It wouldn’t have mattered whether Iris wanted to leave the classroom with him or not because they could do it one of two ways; she could agree and come willingly, or he would throw her over her shoulder or drag her out by her hair. He wasn’t going to have her risk her education and reputation yet again because she liked a tipple every minute of her bloody life.

irisellianax

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weeplittlelixnman

Rissy was a typical teenage girl. Inherently selfish and incessantly preoccupied with issues which on the grand scale seemed rather petty, she had no idea what Connor Carney was going through. Merlin, she was even completely ignorant to the fact that his Father had died. She wasn’t one to read the Prophet. Neither Connor nor his brother Hunter, another close friend of the troubled young Witch, had said anything at all to give Iris even the slightest hint that something had gone wrong. Iris knew Connor was a Werelion, a rare species with a strong hierarchy, but other than that she didn’t really know much about his life outside of school and part of her didn’t even want to think of it. Werelions were heroic and brave, renowned for their courageous antics… but the thought of Connor being in that much danger on a daily basis? Well, she cared too much about him – and Hunter too. That was another great positive of drinking yourself stupid consistently. You forgot the things that you would rather not think of. “Drunk?!” Iris gasped hyperbolically, in an ill-founded attempt to sound sober. “I am most certainly not!” she pouted towards her best friend, but the blonde waves floating down her back were starting to change colour. Soon her hair was bubblegum pink, the next a shade of lilac, slowly turning into a baby blue to match her eyes. Iris had less control over her Metamorphmagus powers when she was intoxicated, and would often find her appearance changing against her will despite how much she attempted to stop it. Noting a wisp of hair transforming from blue to pink again, almost like a lava lamp, Iris frowned and appeared to try to swat at the hair like a fly. “Stop it!” she scolded herself, but the colours continued and Iris’ button nose wrinkled in resignation. She could feel eyes baring towards her and she didn’t like it. Standing back up shakily, Iris stalked off like an awkward gazelle trying to walk for the first time, looking as if she was about to collapse at any moment. “I am not drunk Connor Carney!” she stated loudly as she left the classroom and entered the corridor running through the second floor of the castle. “That is an outrageous accusation! I’m gonna tell my Madre that you’re trying to ruin my education!” she cried, but a bright smile played on her lips before starting to laugh inappropriately, falling against the corridor to lend her back support. It was clear that the young Spanish Witch wasn’t taking any of this seriously, despite the immense trouble she could get in if she was caught. 

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right guys this account is linked off another one so i can't follow/message you directly, so like this post or send me a message if you want a storyline :D x

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Iris and Rosie, twinnies x

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Iris Wills and Connor Carney

Iris-Elliana Espanosa de Wills – more commonly known as Rissy Wills to her friends – had once been described as a free spirit. Admittedly, there were many aspects of being a Metamorphmagus which granted her inherent freedom. Iris could change her appearance whenever she wanted – could take off in an instance and start a new life wherever she wanted with a new identity. However, the young Witch had learned that complete control over everything did not equate to true freedom. Trapped in a head which consistently told her to tweak some aspect of her physical appearance in order to reach true physical perfection, Iris had turned to alcohol in order to silence her demons. A naturally fun-loving, fiercely witty young woman, not many noticed a difference in Iris’ behaviour. The sixteen year old was known to enjoy a drink, despite not quite being of age yet. However, it had got to the point where Iris would turn up to classes completely intoxicated, after downing shots of whiskey in the morning.  Her grades were falling, but needless to say – Iris couldn’t care less. She wasn’t exactly depressed, more that she was suffering from a lack of clarity in her life. Who was she? And where did she really belong? Her baby blue eyes were consistently scanning the halls of Hogwarts, where girl friends giggled and gossiped together, couples held hands and guys joked around. Iris felt like a ghost, laughing and joking with everyone she met yet never really feeling as if she belonged. It’s strange how alone you can feel when you are surrounded by other people. Even though she seemed in a constant whirlwind of social activity, Iris doubted there was anyone that she could really have a serious conversation with. Her twin sister Rosie was always busy with her friends, as popular as she was, and Mattie had reached the age now where he was far too cool to talk to his older sister even if his friends openly ogled her as she walked past. In fact, the only person she felt she could trust even a smidgeon was Connor Carney.

Connor Carney was a Gryffindor boy who she had met on the Hogwarts Express on her first year, along with her twin sister Rosie. Humorous, witty, slightly cocky like Iris could be on a good day, beneath it all he had a good heart which she could relate to. He was also her best friend. If Iris needed a laugh at the end of a long day, it was Connor she went to. If she needed a shoulder to cry on, she went to nobody - but it would always be Connor that she wrote letters to, or made plans with, in order to make her feel a little better anyway. Despite all of this, however, it didn’t make it any easier for her to admit she had a problem, so she resolved to hide her dependence on alcohol from him and merely hope that he would take no notice. Tumbling waves of dirty blonde hair fell down the Ravenclaw’s back as she entered her first lesson of the day – Transfiguration – with the Gryffindor class. Her pupils were large and her smile was rather dazed, as she gazed towards Connor and flashed him a glimpse of her white teeth. “Hello.” She said brightly, making her way over to the table where the pair normally sat together but instead managing to trip over a fellow student’s bag. Not quite falling over, Iris made an unsuccessful aim to regain balance and instead fell into a fit of giggles. Somehow managing to walk the short distance to the pair’s table, Iris pulled open her chair and sat down. Leaning her elbow upon the table, Iris crossed one dainty leg over the other and tried to pull a straight face, yet a strange urge to laugh was taking over her within the quiet mumble of the classroom. It’s rather difficult to act sober when you are completely and utterly wasted.