Look Ma, No Hands! PV Astrea Closed

banner of the boys by the fantastic ah mii pre-clott.io

private thread with @Ami Procoppio as Maksim Preobrazhensky
speaking in russian, unless specified

Hey, you're underestimating me.
I'm not totally useless.

Let it be known, first and foremost, that a certain Mr Johannes Cyprian Sauer decidedly did have a self-preservation instinct. It was actually relatively decent when present- of course, 'when present' came up to a third of all time, which was not quite as consistent as a normal responsible straight-laced. Of all three adjectives just listed, the German-raised was decidedly none of them, so did it really matter? One couldn't get far in such a school like Durmstrang without some semblance of survival instinct, especially if they didn't stick with the common crowd. However, contrary to whatever his peers spouted, having a self-preservation instinct didn't mean that you had to listen to it. Often, it was more fun to ignore it. For a laugh, for the prank, for the thrill of the chase- the reasons didn't matter as much as the process, the result. It seemed that getting in with the Hellhound pack only encouraged this- as much as the older members attempted to break away in some soul-search for maturity.

Even in his youth, Johannes had always had a penchant for mischief- mostly juvenile things that he never really grew out of. Some of his first memories involved escaping over uneven cobblestone streets behind his brother, hands full with sticky sweet bread and scraped knees covered with rainbow-bandaids. Cuts and flashes of watching the sunset after being called in, sneaking scraps for the street dogs between weekend dinners at a different relative's house, scrambling up trees whose branches drooped too heavy with fruit to be trusted. The transition from Poland to Germany had been marked with the smell of rich coffee, new school introductions and wide-eyed city exploration- which in turn became an uphill climb toward a rebel's success between snowbanks and morning training at Durmstrang. All of this reminiscing to say, he was never one to stick to the straight path in life. Do with that sentence however you want. But with all the adrenaline-inducing activities that came with mild magical delinquency at his fingertips, why should he?

So when it came time for Johannes to choose his extracurricular of choice, of course he had looked heavily into it. Weighing the pro's and con's with his buddies over scraps of paper exchanged under tables during class, he took the time to meet up the newer lackeys of his crew between scaling ice-bare trees heavy with snow and strict scheduling. Duelling was obviously out of the picture- he was competent with his wand but it seemed that his relationship with magic strained at the worst of times. Maybe it was because of how little he used it out of Durmstrang? Quidditch was chill, but his less-than savoury reputation combined with the competitive structure of the sport made it a very unpopular choice. That just left broom racing- which, from the get-go had its positives outweighed. Speeding by in dangerous terrain in a race against time and temper alike, it seemed to be every adrenaline junkie's quick fix.

So we come to now, our established broom-racer sat firmly upon his broom. Periodically flying and hovering, hundreds of meters in the sky. Alone. On the grounds of a stranger castle. Ah, he could imagine his friends' reactions now- half aneurysms and half impulse. To be fair, both sides had a point but the rationality of things never really appealed as much as it maybe should have. It was relatively cold and somewhat windy. And maybe Johannes wasn't 1.) supposed to wear this specific outfit at the moment and 2.) flying in this weather but c'mon- They schooled in Russia. This was nothing in comparison to that. He had, as much as every appropriately safety-concerned flying instructor would yell, flown through much worse before. And anyway, because they were in slightly milder Scotland, he could do things he usually couldn't. Oh, cue the bad decisions.

Hooking himself as securely to the broom as he dared alone in the sky, Johann let both hands go of the handle and relished in the small triumph always denied. Axel, ever a better 'sensibly overprotective' brother than Asriel could be, wasn't here to stop him, not for the next week. The whistling winds screamed their untouchableness as he forced himself still through the pulling drag of air, scrambling with their intangible claws. From the sheer height he had gained, his surroundings looked a fair bit too surreal to it to be reality- perfectly designed as by nature, a strangely realistic video game with visuals too beautiful for it to be digital. A crossroads that made him feel like a tiny god- or maybe an insignificant speck amongst the universe- surrounded by the steam-puffing air, looming trees made tiny and the Great Lake a whipped frosting finish of black-glass mystery.

A jolting chill ran through him as he looked over the foreign castle critically, uncharacteristically alone on his broom in a sky on the wrong side of crisp. No- wave that away, there was no time for homesickness for a home in people he considered more family than family ever was. No time, when his time here was limited as it was. Ahh, way to ruin a good moment. Great job, Johannes. Fantastic work. The beginning of an emotional crisis was exactly what he needed, far above the height considered appropriate for zipping around and in front of a school just a tad more dangerous than it needed to be. 10/10.

When you thought about it, what he and apparently many other fellow younglings in the wizarding world really needed was a magical therapist. Mostly because muggle therapists were hit or miss and the whole 'magic = secrecy' shebang threw a wrench in spilling like half of their childhood traumas. But alas, there wasn't such a thing- Stupid, if you asked Johannes- and so all he could do at the moment was attempt to find a distraction. Yay for forcibly ignoring negative emotions! Totally healthy. Really wasn't, but it wasn't like he was going to admit it.

Alright, distraction time. Scanning the uniform surroundings below, he was just a bit disappointed but not surprised to see much of the area either empty or disinteresting. Maybe if he really wanted to people watch his way through everything instead of going on yet another overthinking trend, either heading back inside the castle or waiting for a turn in the weather would be wiser. But how unappealing did that sound- Durmstrang might have been there for a bit now but Johannes hadn't had the courage to approach some random UK student with a strange penchant for gossiping about fire, not without some sort of moral support.

There- A minuscule figure in neutral against shadow-darkened green, meandering far too deliberately in a certain direction between the trees to just be a passing spectator, their face apparently turned upwards toward the greyed out sky from the angle of their head. Strange. But interesting. Perfect combination. Ah, just a matter of getting down as fast as possible. Which, of course, was a goddamn nosedive. Whatever sanity he had left in that head of his- gone, only sharp 35-degree angle.

Blur the surroundings as if going through hyperspace, his unwilling victim to annoy a beacon between autumn-touched leaves and a mountain-infested skyline. The ground growing closer, he curved into a drift and slid into hearing range, skidding unsteadily from the change in velocity before coming to a hovering stop. Whatever quip to be placed between his fabulous entrance and this poor vaguely familiar person's reaction- he would have the first word. "Zdarova~*" Johannes took on a sloppy salute, stretching out that greeting just a bit friendlier than custom desired. Ehh, who cared for custom. Certainly not him, certainly not him now.

A toothy grin split at his face as he stared down this peculiar not-quite stranger, not-quite familiar. His ears chilled from his extensive time outside, a familiar stream of internal word-vomit buzzed through his mind as he floated as comfortably as one could on a flying broomstick. "Whaddya doing out here, right now-" Take a glance up and down the well-put-together outfit, both hands gesturing to the open grounds dramatically with all the nonchalance of someone used to their own recklessness. "-old man?" This dude was really selling himself to the idea of wannabe professionalism, huh. The Chelsea boots, matching fleece jacket and mockery of a sweater vest with the sleeves still on and all the fun still gone. Toeing the line at hippie. All the man needed was a Starbucks coffee, a messenger bag and a wristwatc- oh, already got that last one. Damn, he saw he saw. Whatever- he could work with this.

I can be used as a bad influence, though.
A real bad influence, feel me?

appearance here
text colour #4d5c7f
*Zdarova = A greeting especially popular with Russian male youths. Slang, informal.

art of max drawn by the lovely ash tray cirque du soleil jupiter.

rping as iNPC Maksim Preobrazhensky [x] All dialogue is in Russian unless specified. Outfit.

Backdated to October 24th, 2020. Private to Johannes (@Astrea Soleil Neptune).

With every step Max took, he thought of another reason as to why that mysterious figure was up so high in the sky, and seemingly chasing after him. His feet were pounding into the ground as he jogged, serving as an ominous soundtrack to his thoughts. Thud. Perhaps he was an assassin from Hogwarts, wanting to root out the competition. Thud. Or maybe he was an angel, here to drag him away to heaven. The scenarios multiplied in his mind, but the underlying thought was perhaps the scariest of all. What was he supposed to do if the figure fell? Would he be able to cast a spell in time? Would the spell even hit before the figure hit the ground? What if it was his fault that this unknown person died, right in front of him? Whatever the reason for the chase, Maksim had no idea whether or not he wanted the figure to land. He would pick up the pace as the guy in the sky continued to trail after him, his long legs stretching to try and cover as much ground as possible. But, given that he was the one on the ground, he didn't really have much of a say in the matter of whether or not he would face off against the flying demon. As the dark blotch in the sky started to grow larger and larger, Maksim braced himself for impact.

And a good thing he did, too. The flier skidded to a stop directly in front of him, causing a string of curse words to spill out of Maksim's mouth, tumbling to the ground at the rider's feet. The face was much more familiar than he was expecting, belonging to a student from his own school, no less. What was a Durmstrang student doing out on a broom? The casual greeting would grate on Max's ears, and he visibly winced as Sauer saluted him. And as if his only purpose here was to antagonize Maksim, the younger Durmstrang student would go on to even address him as an old man. As Maksim's eyes flickered up and down Johannes's form (and clothing), he tried to keep his mild fear and disgust off his face. Obviously, he would fail miserably, as his face contorted into a mask of clear confusion. "You would do well to remember to address those senior to you with some respect," he muttered half-heartedly, taking a step back from Sauer. Of course, he didn't really mean that- after all, his own brother scoffed at the idea of tradition, and Max had to agree with some of his sentiments. But right now, he was grasping at straws, trying to figure out how to maintain his composure in front of this young upstart.

He would settle on a half-hearted lecture while attempting to keep his cool, readjusting the different components of his outfit to keep his hands busy. "Why are you out here on a broom?" Maksim managed to get out as he adjusted his "old-man" clothing self-consciously. He had thought that there was a rule somewhere that Hogwarts had about forbidding brooms outside of their Quidditch pitch, or perhaps he was making up excuses in order to establish dominance over Sauer. How pathetic. "I was... taking a jog. I thought you were going to chase me down and..." And what, exactly? Why had he even been running away? Was he just trying to avoid the responsibility and guilt of if Sauer had fallen from that high up? His voice would trail off once more, and he wondered why he even bothered with trying to explain himself to Johannes.

In that moment, Maksim could feel all of his sanity slowly slipping away. Yes, he was an extrovert, and yes, he had been wandering the castle specifically to seek out human interaction, but he had never imagined that interaction would be with someone like... well, like Sauer. It felt rude to even think such a thought- after all, it was just clothing and attitude. There was still the possibility that the younger Durmstrang student was still a genuinely good guy under all that swagger and posturing. Or maybe it wasn't swagger or posturing? Maksim cleared his throat in an effort to rid his mind of these biases and prejudices, firmly reminding himself that he was in no situation to judge. Everyone he met was to be welcomed and treated with an open mind and a gracious heart- just like the bartenders at the pub back home, in Russia.

But, of course, it was more in his nature to be motherly (much to the chagrin of all of his friends). "You could've fallen from up there," Maksim scolded, continuing on with his impromptu lecture. "Do you know how big of a fall that is? What if I hadn't been there to see it? No one would know that all of your bones would be broken, and no one would know to come and find you to take you to the Hospital Wing. That was incredibly reckless!" Pausing, Maksim narrowed his eyes at the younger student in front of him. "You're not... you're not hurt, are you?"

banner of the boys by the fantastic ah mii pre-clott.io

private thread with @Ami Procoppio as Maksim Preobrazhensky
speaking in russian, unless specified

Hey, you're underestimating me.
I'm not totally useless.

It was hard to tell in the air, but Johannes could swear that catching up to someone usually wasn't this hard- unless an undiscussed race was in order? No, that would simply be unfair, even with a running headstart, but the logistics didn't need to make sense in the long run if he was seeking a short-term solution to his train of thought. Much to Johann's delight, a line of filthy surprise was let loose from his fellow Durmstrang student, not quite enough to make a pirate proud but just as much as to scandalise an old nun or two, which was more than he expected regardless.

Judging from the appropriately bewildered expression on the other's face, he had adequately confused the fuck out of a budding almost-there conversation before it had even started- the perfect way to get an interestingly genuine reaction without remembering how to string words together eloquently. "Pfft, and what respect would there be to use? I'll give it over if they've earned it, grampa." The fact that even his so-called 'senior' had less confidence than a fox's bluff when it came to pointing out authority was pretty telling in itself.

Say, why was he out on a broom on such a day? Did one always need a reason to do something, and would 'because he wanted to' count as an answer? Tuning out part of the elder's ramblings and unwilling to answer the first inquiry past a vague shrug of 'why not?', Johannes couldn't help himself in getting distracted by the unironically worn outfit and well-formed Russian. A native, perhaps? When it came to that big country he called home for most of the year, Johann had really only been to the little northern section they schooled at, though he's hopped around a good part of Europe for some time now. For the first two years at Durm, he was sure everywhere in Russia was just as unnecessarily freezing as the castle. That was before he wisened up enough to start sidling in close to the leaders of a friend packs to start sharing benefits.

"And...?" That trail off sounded as ominous as getting jumped behind a Denny's at 2 AM. "What, swoop you up? Now while that would be fun, this ol' thing-" He patted the handle of his broom fondly, the attached compass swinging around wildly, trying to catch the little light there was peering through the thick blanket of grey overhead as if to preen at the acknowledgement. "-ain't properly meant for multi-riding and you, in particular, seem like a desaturated safety cone." 'Ain't made for multi-riding', his ass! He's done it before, would do it again, but most likely not with this poor man who was just asking to get a rug tugged under him. "Maybe next time. Unless you wanna risk it right now?" He slanted a sly look towards his poor target of annoyance, something dangerous in his well-practised nonchalant glee.

"All that aside, very interesting shoe choice for a jog." Call him judgemental but he was sure that those weren't the right type of shoes to be exercising in, something he was sure the other would have pointed out had they swapped places. No good outdoor traction, little shock absorbers... Those shoes looked nice going around town but if he saw someone running around in those neutral suede things on purpose on dirt roads and grassy ground, he wouldn't want to be seen in the vicinity. To top it all off, cleaning suede sucked! Unfortunately, all of his immediate disapproval only meant that he was due for the social equivalent of a rap over the knuckles.

Brow furrowed and arms up in mock surrender, Johannes could do nothing more than take the nagging like a kid walking in late for curfew. "Hey, look man, it's not such a big deal. There's a thing called healing spells and this isn't my first rodeo anyways. Hell, it's probably safer out here than back at Durm, so you don't gotta worry 'bout anything." He felt like he got dipped into an alternate universe, with all this sudden concern. Those exact same words would have made sense had it been from someone he actually knew well enough with that dynamic (read: Stefan), but in this case, he didn't even know the elder's name. Nothing except for a vague passing recollection of overlooking one another in the halls- and even that was only because the young Sauer tended to travel in droves with his fellow wannabe delinquents more than by virtue of true unknownness. Straight-laced, the other probably was, furthered by the preppy outfit and need for hypocritical criticism of weather-appropriate activities. Ah, it was just his luck to pick- out of anyone in the school- some square.

As Johannes made a wide gesture of dismissal, he unconsciously attempted to autocorrect his slightly overbalanced centre of gravity (which was still somewhat fucked by the rapid descent) and ended up momentarily scrambling to tighten his grip on the handle with two limbs instead of the proper four, a short bout of curses filling his head for all of half a second. "Me, hurt? I mean- not right now." There was no way his new mother hen of a temporary conversation partner didn't catch that second of unsteadiness he was trying to play off, which just made his case even worse considering this time he was only a metre and a half above the ground instead of being God knows however high. The only plus side to his current situation was that he was basically checking another box off of "people whose blood pressure he's made rise".

I can be used as a bad influence, though.
A real bad influence, feel me?

appearance here
text colour #4d5c7f