#obtpoints

[loosenthenott]

❋ SUMMER SOLSTICE S O I R É E PROMPT ; LOW TOLERANCE, CHAMPAGNE TASTE

The Blood Moon and its ethereal tendrils would not let go of his mind, as they were anchored and chained in both reality and the dream world. Day after day, night after night, the celestial event that would normally instill general apathy and acrimony where wizarding politics was concerned would not let up. This mental turmoil was, of course, contributed by a number of factors: the Ministry and its imposed laws (especially the one concerned finding a stronger remedy than the current version of Wolfsbane), dearest Blaise and his lust for dire predicaments, and the calm, logical debate vis-à-vis the Daily Prophet (of which his sparring partner had revealed herself -- Pansy, of all people). The truths in the real world trickled down in the level of consciousness that controlled his dreams, embellishing and terrifying in the odd hours of his regular -- nonexistent -- sleep schedule. Sometimes he'd wake up in a sweat, his breath heavy, and he'd have to take a trip down to the bubbling potions in copper cauldrons. That was the worst of it. Even so, the Blood Moon and its consequences seemed to be winding down and grinding to a halt. The government was meddling where it not ought to and it displeased the blonde very much so; since Theo Nott was not at all concerned with the politics surrounding it, so he considered himself almost out of the Ministry's grip.

His Slytherin peers were, however, another story. With Daphne once again warm and friendly toward him, the information about the ever-reckless Zabini flowed smoothly and without fail. So, naturally, Theo wanted to garner all the information he could without tipping off his friend. Now that purists were in the minority, it was more important than ever to remain a cohesive group. To have Zabini befall the werewolf taint, well, that wouldn't do. The flame, as he told it, had worked wonderfully. But its supply was limited, and since Blaise was ambitious to a fault, Theo took it upon himself to craft some powerful potions for the future. It was not a heal-all, or a lifesaver, but rather something to be used in a pinch. The blonde entrusted that Blaise would know when to use his liquid luck appropriately; it was a rare opportunity that ought not be wasted.

Daphne's soirée invitation was unexpected, but it intrigued him all the same. He wasn't one for socialite events with strict attire codes, forced to converse with others in order to boast and make connections, but since he and his peers saw each other in a blue moon, Theo would make the effort to go and appear to be happy about it. He wrapped the affirmation of his presence along with the vague reference of a plus one, and sent Penny off to the Greengrass estate.

Fashion was left to the socialites of their circle; Theo might as well spend the Galleons he had lying around on something useful, if only for an evening. There he had bumped into Draco -- which was also unexpected, but pleasant nonetheless -- and knew that their goals were one in the same. Had Daphne done the impossible? Theo would have bet his money on Pansy and her infallible charm to tempt the other blonde out for something as important and social as a party, but no doubt that Daphne spoke just as well as Blaise. Now that Malfoy's presence was confirmed, that was one less thing to worry about -- there would be some respectability as far as guests went, even if the hazel-eyed witch seemed to look favorably among those that were supposed to be sworn enemies -- by name, or association.

The last item on his list was his own form of invitation. He couldn't remember the last correspondence between he and MacDougal, the Ravenclaw he was reintroduced to at the wizarding book shop. She had given him a copy of Frankenstein that he had perused between his superior novels, but he would be lying if he had told her he didn't enjoy it. Theo wasn't sure that she would accept upon sending Penny on her way with the parchment tucked between the pages of Hamlet -- a newer edition found in the window of a Muggle shop he passed on his way to his job at the Ministry -- but it was worth a shot, he supposed. Daphne seemed to have insisted it in her own invitation, but she couldn't fault him since he tried.

At any rate, it would be an interesting evening.

[loosenthenott]

⋆ BLOOD MOON R I S I N G PROMPT ; CAUGHT BETWEEN THE PENUMBRAS

The sun -- when not obscured by thick, menacing clouds -- often peaked through the bed curtains at its zenith, the bright rays rousing him from another deep slumber. On the days that didn't require the young Nott to pretty up and head into the city for work, he had his house-elves wake him in order to go about estate business as usual. Philomena was his most trusted house-elf -- despite her former loyalties to the Blishwick family -- as she had followed her mistress to the Nott estate and swore her allegiance to the children Penelope mothered. Theo would never know this, would never be able to find out the secret pact that kept a watchful eye on him within the boundaries of the manor ever since he was a tot. She kept her distance when she was told, but she was always ready to act if it was needed of her. So, it was no surprise that her magic had wrenched open the curtains to let him rise of his own accord (except to interfere when and if the covers were pulled over his head again). He nodded, eyes still heavy from sleep, and let his head hit the pillow again once she left his room. What was the incentive for getting up again? To look through stacks of paper with tight writing in straight lines on them? Dull, dull, dull. Brunch was, at least, somewhat of a motivator as he rifled through the boudoir-style dresser in search of a shirt -- navy blue, cotton -- and black slacks. No mirror had to tell him that his hair was askew, his dark circles pronounced, and his lips so pale that blue undertones showed. But none of these imperfections would be seen by company or co-workers, so little time was needed to be spent in his bedroom today.

The smell of buttered biscuits was the first sensation to meet him in the dining room; they were stacked on a plate to the right of his setting. On the left was this morning's edition of the Prophet. Normally the paper would be checked last in his routine, but as he rounded the table's corner, he noticed the glaring headlines on the first page. Lycanthropy. The taint was back in full force for the upcoming Blood Moon, as the paper so eloquently stated. Repulsion and hatred lingered as visceral feelings, as well as trepidation and apprehension. Fenrir Greyback was always spoken about with a sneer, with condescension and derision. Theo was taught to loathe werewolves especially, and especially ones that masqueraded about as true wizards. The new generation of witches and wizards hadn't even the last recollection of the celestial event, since it predated their births. But history often repeated itself, and as he further scanned the articles making up the bulk of the newspaper, the new mandates were bolded for all to follow. If not for the fear-mongering, the curfew would certainly rile the community up. Was free will still infinitely better than imposing a rule to protect the masses? That question was neither here nor there as he caught sight of one mandate in particular: potions-making. Theo was not in the business of using his prowess for the greater good or whilst in the company of others. Since he was a Ministry official and therefore privy to the inner workings, there was no reason for him not to be called for the more pressing matter. If there was any positive spin to it, it was that any potential remedy would quell the fears of the taint in its tracks. Theo knew that he would have to comply with the Ministry to keep in their good graces, if only for the burden his last name placed upon his shoulders.

Naturally, the news soured in his stomach. He nibbled on one of the biscuits, savoring the buttery flavor, but it didn't settle well. The anticipation started to grow, the unpleasant symptoms starting to pervade his collected demeanor. Theo told Philomena to hold the brunch for later, until he felt hungry again. So he hunted down a book in the library, the placement on its shelf all-too familiar, and headed for the back entrance. In the drawers of the nearby table, he fished for the carton that begged for him, begged to slow the quick tempo of his heart and the trembling that took hold. Stepping out into the sunshine had Theo shade his eyes with his book, searching for the garden bench with the vines curling up the legs and arms of it. Today he was going to do some research and quell his anxiety, which seemed like impossible tasks at the moment. He laid down the length, feet propped up, and put the book on his chest. A breathless whisper and the tail end of the cigarette from his latest carton lit up; he breathed in, the tension already leaving by way of the smoke that danced and vanished into the surrounding air. The book that resided on his chest was more rhetoric than science, but sometimes that was the sort of book one needed to extract applications from. If anything, the quicker one could find a remedy, the quicker one could return to normal life. But that was a stretch, when potency was an issue. In all truth, it was more than likely that the celestial event would be over and the threat of lycanthropy would recede back into the depths of useless reform. As long as the taint remained, wizarding society would always be in danger. Theo opened up to the first page with his left hand, the smoldering cigarette between the fingers on his right hand, and began to delve into subject matter pertinent to the current calamity.

The phases of the moon have always been inexplicably linked with the werewolf affliction, marked by the swelling and ebbing of tides and by the harvests that coincide with transformations...

The sound of the pages being turned drowned out a derisive snort.

... a sliver of Datura inoxia has the unique property of flowering at night, giving rise to the theory that the moonflowers are also linked with the moon and its mysterious properties.

If anything that might help his research, this tidbit might do it. Another drag of his cigarette and Theo thread the ribbon attached to the spine between the current pages -- he'd need to reference this upon closer experimentation.

[postwar-potterrp-blog]

hello, i was wondering about the housepoints?i get that they're achieved by doing prompts, but what are the rewards and how will the amount be decided?

The housepoints aren’t really all that important, to be honest. It’s just that we always find it fun in Hogwarts-based games to compete for housepoints, and thought it would be nice to still be able to do that even though the characters have all (almost) graduated. And we figured that, since people are always looking for good ideas for headcanons and things with which to develop their character, why not provide some and offer rewards for completing them?

Those rewards will vary depending on what we think-up at any given moment, but will include in-character benefits like promotions or raises at work, or a featured role for your character in upcoming plotlines, and even little out-of-character gifts like graphics and playlists and stuff like that. Basically just anything we think would appeal to our players. We’ll take their feedback into account as to what sort of things they like the most, and they’ll all be welcome to suggest ideas too. So it’ll be nothing set-in-stone, and nothing all that monumental — I’m afraid the days of winning a House Cup are behind everybody now! — but just little things to say, “thanks for playing with us!”

Also, of course, there’s bragging rights for your house. Which we all know is the most important thing, right? ;)

~Admin D