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First names were most often used by childhood or school friends. If the friendship was made after school age, first names would only really be used by women. Men were far more likely to refer to their friends by their surnames, a mark of familiarity. — Documentation

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Emilia Wright for Jude Wright. Casually alienating offspring since 18882.
Separating was also not a great idea, though they weren't doing great at staying together anyway. If she were to volunteer to be the human sacrifice.. well... Hogsmeade had plenty of debutantes anyway...

Barnabas Skeeter in CYOA: Group D

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Complete threads set in ten different forum locations. Threads must have at least ten posts, and three must be your own. Character accounts cannot be combined.


Problems Conceived
The icy frost that pierced his clothes was only warmed by the knowledge that he wasn't going to have to return home, to Ireland, and announce at the dinner table that he'd left the deceased body of his brother in an iceberg crack (and then, presumably, be led away in handcuffs—whether officially or unofficially by Maeve—for his stupidity). He let out a loud, cackling sort of laugh and reached a stiff, cloth-clad arm out to touch Lorcan's.

"This will be one heck of a story to tell the kids one day, eh?" he barked, beginning to wonder where the portkey went—and how they'd get home. "Or, you know, a story to tell once we get back."

beauteous set by Lady
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Well, at least Finnian could see the funny side. Lorcan was starting to thaw that way, but only because he’d never felt anything so comforting on earth as the hard snow-covered mountainside under his limbs.

“Yeah, the kids, if my balls haven’t frozen off from that,” Lorcan muttered in faux-resentment, trying to suppress a laugh of wild, wild relief.

“Where’d the Portkey go?” He asked next, on the topic of getting back. He didn’t know, but Lorcan felt like he had a pretty good excuse for losing track of that.

He was tempted to say something about how he'd be more than willing to help Lorcan's future wife conceive to make up for this incident, but he was distracted by the the thought of the portkey before he could manage to.

"That is a very good question," he said, trying to push himself up into a sitting position, his hands already numb from the cold. "- and unfortunately, it's one I don't have an answer to." He began to aimlessly move his fingers (Merlin it was cold!) around in the snow, hoping by chance that it would just appear - but alas, nothing.

"Tell me, Lorcan," he said after a long moment. "On a scale of one to ten, how useless would you consider yourself at this time? I mean, you're already freezing - I can't see the harm in making yourself useful." Except hypothermia, maybe, but he refused to believe Lorcan could ever die again.

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"Damn right I'm already freezing!" Lorcan declared indignantly, and he would be shivering pointedly by the time he'd gathered the energy to sit up, if he wasn't already shivering without any choice in the matter.

He looked across at his brother, raising both eyebrows as if to declare the answer to that question was obvious. His tone was cheerful as he said: "I can confirm I'm much less useless than my brother who nearly killed me on any day whatsoever, even two minutes after nearly dying."

"We've both still got our wands, thickhead," Lorcan offered fondly, "unless you dropped yours down the crevasse." (While singlehandedly saving him, that would be.) "Look, I dunno what the portkey was -" nothing like nearly falling down an icy hole to freeze up one's memory! " - but it's gotta be around here somewhere." Please, oh muggle Jesus whom Finn had been trying so hard to impress by coming here, please let it still be in reach. "We have to touch it at the same time," he warned, wracking his frozen brains for how portkeys functioned again, because if Finnian up and left him here after that ordeal, he was going to - well, yell a bit, and then freeze to death, probably. "But we can summon it still, can't we?"

Finnian could only roll his eyes at the first comment; despite being notoriously daft, Finnian wasn't so dim-witted that he wasn't aware that saving Lorcan had merely been a matter of fixing the mistake he'd made by sending them here in the first place. He was, however, dim-witted enough to have no clue as to whether getting the portkey back in the way Lorcan mentioned would actually work. The thought of Lorcan summoning the portkey and disappearing, leaving him to fed for himself in the Himalayas, was an absolutely terrifying thought.

(At least Lorcan probably loved him enough to send a search party? Not that he imagined such a thing would help in the middle of literally nowhere - they'd be more likely to find his corpse in a few years.)

"No, no, I've got it," he responded defensively, holding up his (albeit frozen) wand for his brother to see. "I'm just not sure if that would actually work. I think we'd both need to grab it at the same time!" And with their hands practically numb to the touch, who knew how fast their arm muscles could react?

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This was why Lorcan had asked, to be honest. He wasn't exactly confident enough in his magical transportation trivia to know what would happen, and he wasn't exactly confident enough in his own survival skills - after the last ten minutes he'd had - to think he'd last very long if his brother up and left him.

Thankfully, Finn didn't leap at the summoning idea and do it without thinking, which Lorcan supposed was a blessing. "What if we both summoned it on the count of three or something?" He offered, the thought taking far longer than it should have to click in his brain or to form against his chattering teeth. If they had their hands outstretched...

"Maybe I'll just hang on to you, as well," and hope Portkeys work like side-along apparating, Lorcan said, shuffling closer to his brother as a back up plan, and clamping a numb hand around his arm as though he were a scared little five year old again. Obviously he wasn't, because he was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors couldn't be cowards. He was just being - careful.

If he never saw snow again, it might still be too soon.

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   Finnian Byrne

Finnian did not know, nor had he ever cared to know despite knowing a few employees of the Department of Magical Transportation, which probably explained why he was a Gryffindor instead of a Ravenclaw. But right now, knee-deep in snow and beginning to ponder on whether Lorcan would eat his dead body for food if they didn't escape, he was really beginning to value that knowledge. (Maybe he was meant of Ravenclaw. Maybe not.)

"I'm not sure what our alternatives are," he said, glancing around to what turned out only to be more snow, "so let's just go for it, eh?" he asked, raising his brows expectantly. He gave his wand an inconsequential wave, wondering if Lorcan had his at the moment, but fully knowing that he was the only one likely in the position to cast the spell. Fortunately, Accio was not the hardest spell in the book, but any spell could be difficult with a frozen wand and numb hands. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he looked back at his brother. "Here we go, then."

Raising his wand, he did the wand movement and cast: "Accio portkey!"

[-] The following 1 user Likes Finnian Byrne's post:
   Lorcan Byrne

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Please muggle God and muggle Jesus and whatever lunatic being created this hellscape, Lorcan thought with his eyes squeezed briefly shut in dread, please don't leave us here to die.

...He probably ought to open his eyes, lest he completely miss the Portkey when it came, though, so he opened his eyes as wide as they could possible go in this blinding icy brightness. Leaving Finnian to cast the spell, since he'd only gotten as far as thinking the word Accio very hard, Lorcan fed all his energy into holding on to Finnian's arm (if he left a mark, he wouldn't even be sorry), and outstretching the other so that if the Portkey did come zooming back to his brother, it'd have to graze his hand as well, just in case.

For a minute, Lorcan could feel his hopes start slipping away down a chasm as nothing happened. And then - shaking off snow like a wet dog as it went - there it was, the lost Portkey! (At least it hadn't fallen down the crevasse.)

There was a split second where every emotion possible washed through him: fear that his spell wasn't working, anger that the portkey wasn't appearing, momentary acceptance that they were both going to die, and then... then it was there! Right over there! Flying towards them at a speed and from that distance that physically-and-emotionally-exhausted Finnian wasn't capable of perceiving.

And then, just as it was within a few yards from then, Finny thought to hold up his arm to grab it. "Here we gooooooo," he nearly howled as the portkey connected with his (and hopefully Lorcan's - Merlin help him!) hand.

beauteous set by Lady
Post Log
Lorcan barely had time to blink as the Portkey came for them, hearing Finnian's yell in something like slow-motion as he clamped his hand upon the object with everything in him he could muster. This was already the second time in the space of less than an hour that clinging onto something was the difference between life and death (death was certain, if they stayed here in the Himalayas) and his heart was in his throat - although somehow that didn't stop Lorcan shrieking one long, unbroken "AAAAaaaAAAAAaaaaHHH!" as the Portkey sucked them up from the snowy slope and whipped them away, hopefully back to the Connolly grounds.

Lorcan could barely register where they were as he slammed ungracefully into the ground again at last, save that it was green and damp and flat and not halfway down a icy crevasse. He felt mildly nauseous, though could not say from which part, exactly. "That was some birthday," Lorcan told his brother in a daze, offering him a wobbly smile the split-second before he reflexively puked.

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