[It wouldn't be surprising to see Hermione J. Granger showing off her abilities when she was twelve. Back then she had been over-zealous in ensuring others who had not only grown up in the Wizarding World but also possessed Magical relatives did not look down on her. As a result of her obvious ambition, she had found it impossible to make friends. Thankfully, a troll had come along and fixed her problem.

Since that time, while she is very gifted (almost effortlessly so sometimes), Hermione does her best not to show off. In fact she usually becomes downright embarrassed if someone compliments her.

Thus it's probably strange to see her casting spells in plain view of everyone in the City. Yet she is doing so with dramatic flourishes of her wand and, bit by bit, her spells are taking on a life of their own.]

Repello Muggletum... Muffliato... Protego Totalum...

[As she spells gleam, glow or burst into existence, Hermione seems to be surrounded by a barrier of sorts. Because her communicator is also inside of the barrier, everyone is privy to what she sees and hears.]

Mm...and just in case... Salvio Hexia. [She nods proudly at her work. Anyone watching will see her point her wand at her throat and mouth the word "Sonorus!" before setting the communicator on the other side of the barrier. No sound can be heard. Oh and she seems to...disappear from view.

Her barrier works perfectly.]

[Neil is Neil, so what can you do? He's eighteen and dry and bored, bored, bored. He's lounging on a sofa in the living room of his apartment, which doesn't have a heck of a lot to recommend it by in the way of decor. Or much furniture, either. He's on his back, knees bent over the end of the sofa, bare feet kicking lazily. Wearing jeans and a t-shirt is an improvement over the last time he was on the network, when he was naked. A cigarette is held between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Neil is looking at the ceiling. The device is on the coffee table.



Did I mention he's bored?]


So, I live in an apartment in building three, by myself, but I'm not here a lot, 'cause the ticking gets stupid after a while. And I'm sick of it all and bored out of my fuckin' skull.

Anyone want a roommate? I can move there or you can move here, I don't care.

[April is wearing a ridiculous out fit involving a towel turban and a ray gun made mostly out of tinfoil. She speaks mostly in an abrupt monotone and her creepy eyes stare straight into your soul.]

Greetings. I am the Great Ludgata, your new overlord. Bow down before me minions--and bring me coffee. Now. With cream and sugar.

[She glares for a second, then slumps back down onto a bench near the fountain, speaking in a slightly more normal tone. Slightly.]

Okay, for real my name is April. OR IS IT? I once drove a riding mower through a Nordstrom. It's kind of lame here and I'm pissed so you should pacify me with coffee anyway.

[ooc: No confused accidental intro for April. Action for anyone in the square--she's just standing on a park bench filming herself. Also she maybe stole somebody's towel off the line?]

[ It's the first time addressing the network properly, and Jace appears on the screen radiating confidence, a charming smile in place. ]

So, if someone happened to be looking for, say, oh, I don't know, weapons to do some training with, where would their best bet be in finding them around here?

text; 

Before I say anything that might hurt somebody's feelings, I think there are some talented people in the City. I feel like I got to see three percent of those talented people recording themselves doing shit. The rest I think I could do without. I'm not a professional critic so go ahead and lick your wounds with that too. You know, talent shows are a good way to get perspective if you think you have something. I just hope it's more Gong Show than Star Search where you gotta wait it out. My own gong was remembering there's other shit to do.

But talking about the Gong Show reminds me, sometimes you get surprised. No, I didn't see a Popsicle Twins reenactment. I wouldn't have minded though.

[ooc; you're welcome]