#openpara

Emma hadn’t been able to get the sick feeling out of her stomach since she heard the news of his death and by now it had already been hours. Her “friends” took her out celebrating, several apparated to her to tell her personally and she matched their enthusiasm even though they kept insisting on more and more from her and soon their party was turning violent. They were acting like they had won the entirety of the war, many of them now were just going into places of business and taking whatever they wanted and walking out and no one stopped them- in fact not many shop owners seemed to even be at work today. Lots of things were broken already. Some things broken from carelessness and others broken to prove a point. They won’t be stopped. As if to bait them into fight back- but she hasn’t seen anyone push back yet. Which added to her uneasy feeling. 

Now though, she was finally alone. She had offered to get some more liqueur for their nonstop party and opted to go to a place of business she knew wouldn’t be open today. Her plan was to break in, take a bunch of stuff and leave money the following day for the owners. She had no choice but to participate but she still felt awful when she broke the widow shop and the glass shattered around her. She was finally able to think though and she walked in the store, looking for a couple of cases she can bring back to her crew. 

  Dumbledore was dead? He had been defeated? Now honestly, Emma had never much cared particularly for the headmaster. A lot of people in the order idolized him and she felt that they talked about him like he could do no wrong as if he was what the muggles considered a god but just because she didn’t think as highly as him (he was too soft, too easy going when they were in the middle of the war) and now it made things worse. She knew that everyone in the order would basically be mourning the loss of a father figure today and she felt uneasy about that as well. Would the double agents she vouched for be able to pass this? Will she get back and will she have to watch the dark lord  torture and kill Andromeda before her eyes because she can tell she’s been crying? 

Emma’s thoughts were interrupted when she heard footsteps behind her and she quickly turned around, holding up her wand, she had been drinking and dancing and hadn’t eaten since last night so this other person would be in a better position then her but she steadied herself and tried not to let it show. 

“Hello?” she whispered. 

He wasn’t the type to run away from danger, considering the fact he usually was the danger. But, he wasn’t ignorant, and he kept his eyes sharp in case there was something darker and stronger following him.

He was halfway to his place when he felt a rumble under his feet, and the surprise caused his flame to go out. The next things happened in a flash. He was pushed to the ground by some unknown force, shaking and shifting with the earth. The building to his left felt the same strength as well, and it shuddered alongside him, throwing debris. Lukas did the best he could to avoid the raining materials, rolling to dodge and throwing quick bursts of fire. But, eventually, the crumbling building got the best of him, and he was eventually pinned down by slabs of brick and steel.

Luckily, it fell in a righteous way where he was safe, save for his right leg, which was trapped in between two boulders. He couldn’t feel much, and he wondered if he was just stuck or if his leg was broken. He quickly glanced around to find some sort of assistance, and there was a small opening at the far right of his head. He began yelling for help, fire spraying from his mouth like a dragon, until he could not produce a flame anymore. He was left in darkness, throat scorched, and he just hoped someone would find him.

Authors Note: This is an open para. I would personally love to see it as a group para. Feel free to respond to it or message me first, the choice is yours. I just think it would be fun. Your character could be one of the racers or an onlooker. I think it would be really interesting to see another character’s POV.

The night scene in Porto wasn’t just night clubs, casinos or underground fighting. It was also a scene that Maya Alliot found that she felt more at home. A place where as a teenager she had hung out. Where she had grown as a person and learned some of the many skills she honed today. And whereas an adult she owned the streets. It was a secret talent. Well, not so secret being that Oliver had called her out on it the first week in California when she’d suddenly become the new owner of a car he’d never seen before. The smug look on her face had been enough of an answer for him. She had thought he’d be mad but after giving her a false displeasing smile he’d patted her on her shoulder with pride and told her to keep up the good work.

The radio chattered echoed into her car as Axel, a fellow racer informed them that the coast was clear.  The passion in the females voice as she repeated the words seemed to raise the feeling of excitement in the atmosphere.

“Racers are a go. I repeat racers are a go. All units are on the other side of Porto Velho dealing with a structure fire in Cavado.”

Randomly the illegal races would pop up and as much as Porto Velho’s finest tried to bust them they had a hard time figuring out their locations being that they frequently changed. The officers weren’t stupid all of the racers knew that but with limited proof, there was nothing anyone could do.

It wasn’t just the warm Porto air that Maya felt as her ‘69 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 rolled to a stop in between two other cars. She could feel the enthusiasm in the crowd as music boomed but the music seemed quiet compared to the crowd that talked amongst themselves. Bets were made, shit was talked and feelings were hurt. Those who came to the races couldn’t be of faint hearts.  Maya’s car was one of many that lined the streets of Downtown, Porto Velho. Racers stood by their cars some of them surrounded by women in nothing but shorts and bikini tops. As Maya weaved through the crowd she watched as a hand was sliding up the chest of a fellow racer she beat once. A blonde woman whispered in his ear. Maya was curious how much of a good time he was being promised for winning.  She laughed silently to herself before nodding to Mateo, the maestro himself. The night would officially start when the man made his way up to the front of the crowd to start the first race.

On the outside, there was a racer parked at every intersection where police could be spotted. Each of them listening to the police scanners for any activity of the police heading their way. Most nights there was nothing, others they found themselves racing away. Hopefully, tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. Hundreds of racers lined the streets as the first four cars lined themselves up for the first race. Mateo stepped away from the crowd of people whom he’d been talking too and walked towards Maya.

“If it isn’t my favorite speed racer. Hermoso, ¿cómo estás? Te extrañé en la última ola.”

“También te extrañé. Estaba ocupado, pero no te preocupes. Voy a ganar esta noche.”

She said with a smile as she stepped into the man’s embracing as he led the way through the dense crowd. The closer they got towards the awaiting cars the more people there seemed to be and for a Wednesday night, it wasn’t even packed.

Yo, Alliot! You racing? How ya doing, ma! Sup Alliot! Nice ride!

Racers and onlookers alike welcomed her with open arms. Even if they did not like her as a person they respected her as a racer. Here there were no sides. No St. Clairs, No Rutherfords or Cavado Kings. There were just winners and losers. Men and women who came to party, show off their cars and enjoy the half naked women who hung around. Most importantly though, they came to win.

“Hey Alf,” Maya said as she came up behind the man who was standing in the semi-circle that crowded around the four racers who were still waiting for the ‘go ahead’.

“Sup, Alliot, here to lose again?” He questioned with a small smirk. Alfie Auditore was notorious in these streets. He was the Dominic Toretto of Porto Velho and last week Maya Alliot had sworn she’d come inches to beating him.

“I almost had you,” She laughed before nodding towards the cars. “I’m up at some point. I’ve got to take that Grand AM from that Vanilla Ice looking mother fucker over there.

“Someone should tell him Slim Shady called and wants his hair dye back.” A familiar voice said from behind them but Maya’s attention was pulled towards the sound of engines being revved.

Mateo pulled away from Maya and took a step forward.

Stranded in this spooky town Stoplight is swaying and the phone lines are down. Floor is crackling cold She took my heart, I think she took my soul. With the moon I run Far from the carnage of the fiery sun.

The song played softly through her headphones as the witch trotted along in the shadows. She had often heard about the "bad side of town" but it wasn't until tonight that she realized exactly where she was stumbling.

As a witch it wasn't unusual to meet her clients in places to exchange payment for potions, spells and other less appropriate things. The same could be said about ingredients she bought that weren't always so...on the nose. Privacy was very important in her work and usually it went fine.

But tonight...

Tonight felt off.

The protection spell she had cast upon herself still crackled with a burning energy keeping some of her worry down and yet the anxiety was still there beneath the surface casting a less than pleasant taste in her mouth.

Up ahead she could see the place they were to meet. The client had said it was a bar, a red door with an iron handle - to keep out undesirables, two large men stood smoking in front of the door seemingly normal, but she wasnt a fool, they were demons and she didnt like how they felt.

A glance at her watch, still twenty minutes before they would meet.

Clutching her bag she was about to move forward when a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder pulling her back. Before she could brandish the knife on her hip she heard a familiar voice hiss.

'Hey you. You there with the arms.' The robotic voice from her phone called out a bit louder than normal thanks to the speaker in her pocket. 'You look nice and strong and alas I am not, could we perhaps trade strengths? A spell for you if you carry this for me? Please?'

Kat had her eyes on a rather large pumpkin to carve and use for certain rituals except she couldnt move the dang thing definitely not all the way back to her dorm. When she had spotted the other it had seemed like the right moment to "shoot her shot" for gaining assistance.

Take Your Time But Come Back | Open Para

‘I’m sorry about the mismatched plates...my grandfather was never much one for sets.’ 

Eittie looked up from the salad she was tossing with two forks, each from a different set and, by the looks of it, different decades. It was clear she was nervous, her hands continually seeking occupation as she placed the humble dinner on the old worn wooden table in the kitchen. There were bowls of salads, pita breads, hummus, honey and nuts, the only things she had in her fridge. The house it’s self was as eclectic as the dinner set, the old cottage packed full of interesting vintage finds and collected objects through the life of her Grandfather. Eittie looked completely natural amongst it all, only in a wool sweater and cotton shorts, with hand knitted thick socks wrapping up to her knees. Truthfully, she looked so at home it would have been jarring to hear the nervous tone in her voice. 

This was the first time she had ever invited anyone to her home, the first time she had let anyone in to see the private side of her life, to understand the reverse of the coin of who she was. The nervousness came from the fact that she knew it was entirely different to the front she pushed out into the world, the cheeky, cocky flirt did not live here, but one who was more shy, tentative and vulnerable. If anyone had thought to ask why she had invited them over, she wouldn’t have had a very coherent answer, only that at long last, she was ready for the emptiness at home to be filled, if only temporarily.  Looking up from her plate as she tore apart her pita and smeared on some honey, licking her fingers after as she smiled. 

Why was it so hard to find a place that sold fireworks? Amber had spent the better part of her week searching for a place that had a good selection of various fireworks. She’d combed all through the human village on the decision that the magical village would probably have wierd-ass fireworks that did more than just flare up and make pretty shapes in the sky. I mean, have you ever read Harry Potter? Those Weasley fireworks were chaos. 

All the searching had paid off though. She was set up in the area where the school was supposed to be hosting all its New Year’s events with a picnic blanket, some simple foodstuffs, a basket full of booze, and a plastic bag full of different fireworks that could easily provide about an hour of fun when it was time to start lighting the fuses. Being drunk and handling fireworks probably wasn’t terribly responsible, but oh well! 

Arthur: Is this what you wanted to see, daddy?