Closed Subliminal Slugs Open to Durmstrang Only

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Valentin had been acting strangely for a while. At first it had been very very small and almost unnoticeable, but it had gradually seemed to spiral out of control as the winter of 2023 and the early spring of 2024 had rolled around. Valentin was not acting like Valentin, even for... well... Valentin standards.

So as I picked my way over to the designated place that Valentin had asked to see me, I ran a hand through my hair a bit nervously. It didn't help that the late summer was indeed quite oppressive and that a thin sheen of sweat was beginning to make itself known at my hairline and upon the palms of my hands themselves. With me I brought a few things--my oak bat and Valentin's father's Oakshaft that we had worked together to restore to its former glorious condition (these first two had been given to me by Valentin despite my typical complaints), the red notebook I always kept in my pocket or somewhere nearby for the purposes of medical use, and my thorny blackthorn wand with its core of humble dittany which was only a few months old and still being broken in. On a sturdy pull-resistant ball chain with small pieces of rubber between the balls on the steel wire hung the brushed gold true love's locket that my brother had given to me as a gift two years ago. I wore the shoulderpads of my beater armor, but not much else--mostly to reaccustom myself to the weight in the sultry weather in preparation for the game.

My vision blurred for a second before my head rang with the sound of high pitched squealing in both my ears. Shaking my head and ignoring the hybrid sensation of exhaustion and headache, I cleared my sights with a few blinks and then continued to the darkness of the bleachers where Valentin said he would be waiting. I didn't like how lethargic I felt, how even the feeling of the oak bat and the Oakshaft in my hands were akin to weights. Feelings of exhaustion had been overcoming me more and more frequently, sometimes it felt as if I would barely be able to stand up to handle my own weight. They were probably nothing, but it was starting to worry me--the fact that no matter what I seemed to do to try to rectify these obvious problems nothing seemed to work.

In the end, I had decided on the idea that it was likely nervous exhaustion--that was why my eyes were starting to look more glassy and I had been waking up at ungodly hours in the middle of the night. What I would give to bring myself to taking Dreamless Sleep... but I didn't like that idea very much either.

And there was my White Immortal. "Fulminetto Little Lightning Bolt." I called to him lightly. "Hey."

A small smile crossed my face, but was quickly debunked in its level of mirthfulness by the additional look of creased brows that transformed it into a look of mild concern. "You called on me." I looked him over once, noting how his skin seemed less fair and more transparent than usual. His eyes too... misty... I didn't need to be a professional to realize that he looked visibly ill, though what concerned me more was the fact that this look had seemed to become more pronounced over the past few months alongside his wavering mental state that fluctuated between mania, paranoia, and occasionally something akin to amnesia.

I had hit him pretty hard in the head last summer, but I had thought that by now most symptoms of concussion would have faded away. I had also been highly on edge for most of this camp, and the fall I had taken during the game certainly had not helped to raise my spirits or improve my mood thereafter. But none of this was an excuse for the reasons that it seemed that both of our healths were appearing to simultaneously fall apart in tandem in different ways.

"What's going on, Il Niffler?" I murmured as I drew close and took a seat next to him by causing the Oakshaft to hover in the air and 'side-saddling' it. I nodded to the open space on the broom next to me. "Wanna sit?"

Inventory:
Medical Notebook, True Love's Locket, Oak Wood Beater Bat, Wand, Oakshaft 79 [+4 Acc & Wis]

Russian‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Swedish‏ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ Norwegian‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ English

Summer camp was well underway, and Greta had settled in just fine. In many ways, it felt more like home than any other time they had come to visit the Atlantic part of Europe. Quite uncharacteristically for the time of year, charming snowflakes drifted lazily to join the snow that clung stubbornly to the ground despite all rationale suggesting that it should have long melted away. Not for the first time, the little Valkyrie sauntered through the maze of tents, a perpetual smile on her lips, marveling at the creativity of these British students and just how much effort they continued to invest into their events to make each and every one a unique and memorable experience for their guests. With adulthood and graduation fast approaching, these visits would come to a conclusion only too soon, so Greta endeavored to make the most of every one.

A melodic folktune found its way to her lips, its jovially hummed overture reverberating in her throat. She would have sang to it, too, if she weren't already preoccupied with a tasty treat. Snow cones had quickly risen to the top of her favourite things to consume during this venture, now rarely seen without one (or sometimes two when flavourful indecision struck) in hand. They were just such a perfect complement to the warmth of the summer's sun while keeping to the wintery thematics. She really couldn't believe how she'd never thought to pour syrup onto snow before. Lips stained blue by its colouring like a rebellious shade of lipstick, she could have been a Bratz doll incarnate with sun-kissed golden locks bouncing behind to her waste and cheeks tinged rouge by the chill, not a care in the world.

Quite unintentionally, her trapsing took her past the stadium that would serve as quidditch pitch for Durmstrang's upcoming game. Perhaps it was subconscious excitement that had led her steps in that direction, a desire to lay eyes upon its scope just one more time before their big day. It had felt like eons since her last proper game. The matches back home were good fun as well, of course, but nothing quite compared to the thrill of the adrenaline that came with being pitted against another school. It was nerve-wracking, of course, but never terrifying. If tremors ever overcame her, it was from the barely contained enthusiasm that drove her to take to the air rather than fear. Every game was an opportunity to prove, once again, that Durmstrang was a force with which to be reckoned. Let none forget the majesty that was her brothers and sisters as they spread their wings to take what was theirs.

She couldn't wait. But her musings would be interrupted by a glint of something pale contrasted heavily in the shadows cast by the stadium's seating. The form of a looming being had sat itself right next to that apparition, seemingly floating off the ground. Without thinking, she launched off from her spot, a renewed spring in her steps. She needn't more than a passing glance to recognize that mop of hair and slouching behemoth. The two were practically inseparable, the image of that pair seared into the inside of her eyelids. Nobody else on earth could ever strike a silhouette quite like theirs. Evidently, she wasn't the only one with the Quidditch match on her mind.

"Niffy! Roo!" Her calls proceeded well ahead of her arrival, accompanied by an enthusiastic waving of a slender arm. In her eagerness, she took to a job, faltering only occasionally to make sure she didn't spill her snow cone. Once at their level, though, the wide smile that had taken over her features faltered. Uncertainty reflected itself in the furrow of her brow as she looked from her Captain to Rome and back again. He looked so... fragile. Translucent, almost. Like the slightest breeze might tear at the edges of his being. Her steps slowed, head tilting.

"Is everything okay?" she wondered, concern evident in the lowered tone of her voice. "Are you feeling unwell? Too cold?" Already, her free hand was pulling at the scarf around her neck. "Too hot?" The temperatures in the London Stadium could be very confusing at times, as they straddled that line between the height of British summer and an enchanted winter. "Er.. do you need something to eat?" Water was almost always a good starting point, and in lieu of that, she held out the closest thing she had: her snowcone. "I think they said it was 'Blue Razzberry' flavoured...?"

norwegian ❅ russian ❅ english

july 17 quidditch stadium outfit - earrings

@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood @Piérre Marchonné @Evelynn Decipio

in the summer heat - i'm in the street

❅ ❅ ❅

Camp started two days ago, on Monday. All students willing to go to this year's summer camp came from all around the world to stay at the London Quidditch Stadium for about a month. Astrid preferred camp to the different balls and festivals organised by Hogwarts. Camp was more chill, less bloody and tragic. So, students had arrived two days ago, and Durmstrang's student were occupying two tents close one to the other, basically forming a two-room tent. Astrid was wearing red today. A long flowy red skirt that stopped right above her Doc Marten's - all her skirts had large pockets-, a more transparent gray-purplish overskirt, and a red crop top. She had arm gloves the same colour and material as the overskirt, and funky red and green earrings. Astrid had cut her bangs again just before camp, so it was quite short. She had braided her two longer strands of hair earlier in the morning. Now she has grabbing wand, sketchbook and aquarelle supplies and stuffing them in her pocket, before heading out of her tent. The girl walked out and started wandering around the stadium. It was her second camp here and she hadn't visited everything yet. She was so little last time she came. Quietly laughing to herself, she thought about how she was technically still little. Fourteen and not even 1 meter 50... Looking here and there for familiar faces, she spotted three familiar silhouettes. Greta, Romeo, and Valentin. Saying Val looked okay would be a lie. He hadn't looked well since... Well a long time ago, a few months at least. Astrid walked towards them, just as Greta asked if their Quidd captain needed anything. — Heey guys! How are you? she said to the group.

❅ ❅ ❅

Inventory wand, sketchbook, aquarelle kit
Action
sta ● 11 | eva ● 9 | str ● 6 | wis ● 10 | arc ● 7 | acc ● 9
Post 1

threading as Johannes Sauer
speaking in russian unless specified

His insomnia was always worse in the adjustment periods. Nerves stretched thin over the hectic moving process and plagued by additional jet lag, Johannes' poor sleeping schedule had only grown inconsistently worse since his first (foolish) distancing from the Hellhound Pack. In temporarily giving up the reigns of his position, he had also gradually lost its privileges. The international teams were fine enough— better now that he'd developed some semblance of a good relationship with them— but it simply wasn't the same. Wherever Hogwarts went, drama followed and London was no exception. No matter how many times Durmstrang visited, the ambient noise of imminent fucking danger never faltered.

Johannes knew this and yet had still spent the first two nights of summer camp pretending otherwise in frustrated silence, (Insomnia Roll: 6 | 8, 1d8: 1 hour of sleep...) too tired to even think and yet too unsettled to fully settle down. If it were solely up to him, he'd avoid the whole charades of sleep altogether and nap his way through the break, catching up on lost hours when everyone was away from the tent. Unfortunately for his nocturnal habits, all the interesting activities and practices were daytime-only (gee, I wonder why?) and Johannes was trying to seem at least marginally well-adjusted in front of his fellow Durmstrangians. He'd rather have a mid-week crash than be confronted with difficult conversations this early into summer camp. Curfew would be the death of him.

At least there were considerably too many people to keep track of. On any other day, when he wasn't strangling a growing headache into unruly submission through pure willpower alone, perhaps Johannes would have praised the Quidditch Stadium's turnout. It was a little flattering, a little intimidating and a lot more disturbing to realise just how many people had gathered to see them risk their lives for the prize of international glory. Then again, that seemed to be a common trend among all wizarding activities...

Faced with the physical reminder of their next great challenge, summer camp's surprising peace was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, the enchanted snow cover was too thin to be authentic. On the other hand, it still reflected the light all the same in some malicious attack against his retinas. Seeking to avoid the horrors of high-noon social interaction and very much regretting being awake so 'early', Johannes had escaped summer camp's general population to hide out against the stadium's looming shadows. How fortunate it was, then, for him to glimpse a familiar flash of white amidst the crowd of nobodies, expectedly accompanied by Romeo's towering form. Who needed a group chat to share locations when they had Hercules himself? No matter how much their Italian beater tried to hunch or hide, simply knowing him was like tracking a neon sign at nighttime. In any case, a few friendly faces were always better than none.

Yet in approaching the group, it was clear that this gathering was no typical one. Recognising the strangely sombre mood, Johannes joined the conversation without his usual flourish. “Er, everything alright here?” If there was ever a time he could reload an interaction and choose a different dialogue option, this was one of them. Well, of fucking course things were not fine considering they were not-so-subtly gathered around Valentin like flies to honey. This close-up, their brilliant seeker looked even more paper-like than ever, grimly hollowed out with bone-deep exhaustion and afflicted with something far more physical than anticipated. Uncertainty held Johannes' tongue as he drew closer, silently glancing up at Romeo for some semblance of explanation or reassurance amid the mood drop.

Sweet Greta— stained and supplied with snow cones for days— had the spirit of any good bedside manner, but Valentin certainly didn't look well enough to be so far from the tents. Then again, neither of their captains had seemed exactly well for the past few months. Yet between Romeo’s intimidating stare and near-inhumanly towering stature, the Italian had inherently seemed less seriously affected. Johannes couldn’t exactly call their seeker comparatively delicate after the horrors intense experience of drill sergeancy, but the shoe fit as well as anything off the shelf. It was as if Valentin's unwavering faith and bell-like optimism worked hard to make him seem as angel-like and larger than life as any martyr. His Kapitäne were ones to work hard through the pain despite its hazards— living proof of hypocrisy to hell and back. To see their fast-flying seeker brought down so low, anchored to Earth with a near-physical burden? It was disconcerting.

Compared to Romeo's assertive, broad-reaching medical knowledge, Johannes’ spellwork and potioneering rendered him practically useless except in true magical emergencies. Unskilled in the living, conscious art of healing though he was, useless did not mean stupid. He didn't need any of his notes or books to tell that Valentin was unwell— concerningly so.

Action: n/a

Mod Information

Outfit==

Reducio

Statistics: Sta: 10 | Eva: 17 | Str: 10 | Wisdom: 9 | Arc: 8 | Acc: 18
Abilities: Foulplay, Charmer, Evasive Maneuvers, Rapid Reviver, Blindvision, Wandmaker*, Lovely Creature

Charmer Allies: Slava Preobrazhensky

Wandmaker Information

Reducio

Dragon Heartstring
- Dragon Like Power: +3 to arcane power when casting spells with this wand.
- Accident Prone: 5% chance that the intended spell will rebound on the caster. Non-targeted spells such as counters, healing, and some utility spells that have no target or are self-targeting cannot rebound. This is not prevented by the Perfectionist ability.

Cedar Wood: "Spells performed against this wand owner's enemies (those who have specifically crossed them) tend to be more painful."
Romanian Longhorn: "When their owner is passionate about something, the spells that successfully go off tend to be more dramatic."

Items: Vials of Revive Potion and Confusing Concoction in inner pockets. Wand in hidden sleeve holster (right hand).

Valentin looked up at the sound of his most beloved nickname, Fulminetto. It was Romeo, calling softly, and as the blur in Valentin’s vision sharpened into the familiar shape of his co-captain, the beating of his heart felt noticeable in his chest. Romeo didn’t seem to be at full strength today, especially today, and Val’s keen eye picked out the beads of sweat forming beneath his ruddy hairline. The way the beater had been on edge all through their time at camp had not escaped even Val’s ailing observational skills, and worry had been gnawing at him for days about what was on Romeo’s mind. A weak smile still broke over Valentin’s face in gratitude for the Italian answering his call. It felt just a bit better to have him nearby.

"Wanna sit?" offered Romeo, indicating the open space beside him on the levitating broom.

“Mm,” affirmed Valentin, smile widening. Maybe now would be a good time to learn what was bothering Romeo, first, Valentin decided. So enticing was the offer to sit with him that from his slouching crouch under the bleacher’s backside the seeker got up a bit too fast. Buckling under the slam of a headrush Val took a wobbly step forward, but the ground felt like it was shifting beneath his feet like quicksand.

Staggering about as he tried to regain solid footing, Valentin heard the delightful chirp of his dear Valkyrie. While his body was beginning to reject his orders as if he had just run a marathon and he was now asking too much just to stand up straight, he compelled his eyes to rise to the level of the blue-lipped snowcone darling. The words coming from her mouth came to Valentin mostly in colours of hot and cold demeanor and something in them evoked an icy dagger of hunger in his belly, but not one that was natural. All that he knew was that he loved her intensely and that he felt really and truly bad now.

Just then Val’s seeker protégé, Astrid, came walking up with what felt like some kind of musical greeting. Like a pleasant chord that laid down in harmony with Greta’s theme, Valentin wanted to smile, but he no longer felt full control of his face. A pang of fear struck a discordant note in his head, and a drop of sweat dripped from Valentin’s chin. Hoping that he’d done well enough in her training for Astrid to carry the seekers’ weight for the both of them in the impending quidditch battle, Valentin finally internalized that he might not make it back to the tent, let alone into the sky.

Huffing as his lungs rejected the notion of letting down his team, Val’s eyes cast around in two wild arcs. Lighting on the form of their keeper, Johannes, Valentin squinted. Had the boy always been this beautiful? Even with the deeply set rings darkening his eyes in massive sleep deprivation, Hanya managed to rock even such a troubling look. Valentin had never gotten to the bottom of what was wrecking his keeper’s ability to sleep, and paired with the concern for Romeo’s tense state, the captain began to suspect foulplay. Was an enemy team sabotaging them? There was certainly a motive, but who… how...?

Whipping his head around in a fit of paranoia, a sinking feeling that he was the one to blame buried in his gut like a danger. He knew he’d been acting crazy for the last year – Sergei had told him so – hallucinating and causing havoc as his perception of reality warped inside out and back again. Feeling as if the reaper were pulling with frigid skeletal fingers at the hairs on the back of his neck, Valentin’s eyes filled with terror. Was he possessed? Why had everyone around him turned into such delectable prismatic melodies? He just wanted to merge with the music that was calling to him, no matter how terrifying the whirl of colors that bled from the world around him.

No, no! I won’t let down my team. They need me to hold it together. I need to stay Valentin. They need me to be Valentin, not merge, not… Clutching his heart, Valentin staggered forward once more, the broom hovering before him beckoning like the grail on his holy quest. They need me. I have to make it… They want to win, and I will be their strength… Lurching forward in an attempt to throw his body across the vacant spot on Romeo’s broom, Valentin fell flat on his face in the dirt. The perspective of how far away it was had betrayed his ravaged proprioception, but he was not done. Not yet.

Lifting his face, a slight nose bleed speckled the ground, and Valentin rolled onto his back. He had to get up. He had to serve his people, even if it killed him.

The captain’s long arms reached up in the air as if to latch onto the clouds themselves and pull himself up, but in a slow languid thrash, Valentin’s vision suffered from his impact with the floor. Nothing was clear anymore as melting figures towered around him, encircling like dark pillars marking the entrance to the underworld. Deep longing wracked the seeker’s face as his mouth grimaced in panicked urgency.

Basic Stats:
STA 8 - EVA 20 - STR 3 - WIS 20 [24] - ARC 1 - ACC 17

Abilities:
Keen Eye / Charmer / Evasive Maneuvers / Fearless / Comprehend Languages: Parseltongue & Veela
Inventory: A golden locket, a silver earring from the Horntail Horde piercing excursion, a golden ring from Yefim, "some wand," a copy of Romeo’s medical notebook, Oakshaft 79.
Broom bonus stats (when flying): +4 ACC, +4 ARC

The next person to post that they are coming into arm’s reach of Valentin will get a special surprise.

Russian‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Swedish‏ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ Norwegian‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ English

It seemed Greta wasn't the only one drawn by the captains. Like moths to a flame, several others of their compatriots emerged from the grounds to join them behind the base of the stands. Expression still riddled with concern, she turned her attention towards the first of them as they approached. "Hi Astrid." She offered the younger girl a tentative smile and the smallest wave. And then, "Hi Joho", as he, too, joined them. "I'm not sure..." Her answer addressed both of them simultaneous. Doubt and uncertainty were evident in her tone, brows pinching with her focus returning to Niffy, all the more so upon noting the drop of sweat trickling down his face.

"Niff..." The soft utterance of his name was little more than a plea to nothing and noone in particular, an audible materialization of the worry climbing up inside her. His eyes swept wildly over them, squinting upon Johannes. Greta glanced between the two, briefly wondering if something had happened to leave bad blood upon the ground. But as she returned her gaze to the spectral seeker, it looked less like a spiteful glare and more like disorientation. As though he didn't recognize their own teammate and was trying to place him amongst his memories, or sorting through some other qualm of the mind. "...Niffy? Are you--"

She had taken a step forward, hand gingerly lifting with the intent to reach out to him, but he whipped his head around so suddenly that it paused her in her tracks. Terror reared its head within the whites of the boy's widening eyes, mirroring then in her own. What was going on? Greta peered frantically between her classmates, searching for some sort of answer or recognition on their parts that they understood what was happening. "Val, what's going on? You look scared. Are you seeing something?" She cast a look over her shoulder in the direction of his horrified stare, then back. "Is there something there?"

For all of their sakes, she dearly hoped not. But why else for this sudden shift in demeanor? It unsettled her like little else ever had. Valentin, their Captain, their leader. Fearless and valiant in everything he did. He might have been slight in his build and fair of complexion, but none among them would ever question the depth of his conviction. He was the anchor that held them in place through the worst storms, the sail that enveloped the wind to push them to their furthest capabilities. He had only ever been steadfast and reliable. This figure before her, the spectre of terror...she didn't recognize him.

His lurch forward drew a reflex of motion before she'd even consciously registered what had happened. Down went the snow cone, blue ice exploding sloppily across the ground to her side, freely discarded the second Valentin's strength escaped him. She might have been the least physically capable amongst the rest of them, but their tissue-paper captain wouldn't have given her too much trouble to keep upright. Surely, the greater difficulty would have been keeping him on the ground in the face of even the slightest breeze.

"Niffy!" Her steps had hastened and her arms thrust out to catch him, but she wasn't fast enough. He went down. Hard. Face into the dirt, eliciting a cry of shock and despair from the little Valkyrie. "Val!" Eyes wide and panic of the unknown bubbling in her chest, she fell to her knees beside him. "What's going on? What are you feeling?" He reached up, hands groping for the air, and of course she would lend hers to close that distance, to offer whatever help she could to see him comfortable. "What can we do?"

The world came crashing up towards Valentin in slow motion as words sparkled through the air and razzberry droplets splashed onto his face… just before a clash like cymbals rang deafeningly through his head. Turning over revealed the new strangeness of the boy’s face. Mixing with flecks of blood in a technocolor blue and red abstract painting over his canvas of pure white, Valentin’s fear could have been a work of art. His arms wove through the air in movements characteristic of seeking the snitch, and a rattling note crooned from the back of Val’s throat.

“I feel the war coming. It's here. It's here.”

Valentin did not know the arms were his. All he could see were slender white snakes reaching up into the sky, streaming like reversed comets on their way home to the void of space. The intense radiance of the sun flooded his vision, blinding and disorienting with its intense glare. Then, as a dark tower fell from the sidelines into the center of his vision, blotting out the sun, the pain in the seeker’s sensitive eyes faded. A calming presence enveloped him, and as his vision began crystallizing once more, streams of long flowing hair the color of honey rained down like the streamers of a great meteor shower to reverse his return to the sky. The backlit halo of the sun framed Greta's face as would befit no less than a goddess, and the lines of terror began to smooth across Valya's face. A nonsensical susurration of broken Parseltongue syllables bled into a melodic surge that none had heard from Valentin before. It was almost like a song in linguistic form, beautiful and even dazzling to the discerning ear.

“Ya'aum hooam as sa' naumo. I'rro orrom soo iya'au rla'mo faooaauaraur, a' orro a a'aum faoaros a ho snniy.” “Your heart is so pure. I've never seen you more beautiful, not even in our battles in the sky.” Tears streaked from each side of Valentin’s white-eyelashed eyes, and the sound of his smile tinted the dulcet tones of Veela sliding from his tongue. “Greta…. I oaca'mo iya'au. I oaca'mo iya'au. I oaca'mo iya'au.” “Greta…. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you.” For as obscure as his words may have been, the look on Valentin’s face said it all. This was an expression of powerful, all-encompassing, unconditional love. It was as if the shackles of civil discourse that had been restraining such overpowering emotion had now fallen and shattered. “Ya'au oamo ho rla's gha'mghoa'aus lla'rloa a ho lla'mrc.” “You are the most gorgeous woman in the world.” Valentin’s hands made contact at the tops of the thin girl’s shoulders as he beamed with truth and limitless passion. “Tho rroarnniymaos rlaus acooc fao oaghors, ra'm homo as a' a'hom lloaiy a' cosmafao iya'aum arlrloaauroao hooam.” “The valkyries must indeed be angels, for there is no other way to describe your immaculate heart.” Pulling Greta into a sweet embrace, Valentin simply held her there, hugging, for a long moment. Then, lifting her back up at each shoulder, the seeker placed a small kiss on the side of her jaw. It was little more than a heartfelt peck, but it was long enough for him to glimpse the tapestry of lines that billowed up the architecture of her neck.

Staring for a long moment, Valentin then languidly blinked and turned back to look deeply into Greta’s sea-green eyes. Under the influence of her calming presence, his fear melted away entirely. All he could see was the extraordinary luminance of her soul burning bright. The smell of blue raspberries permeated the air, and deeply inhaling the intoxicating aroma, Valentin’s eyes fluttered with delight. The seeker’s scarred right hand reached up to stroke through a long coil of her soft hair, and with a smile that could have seared through any veil, an auroral gleam of Valentin’s amethyst eyes would be her only warning.

In a lightning fast rise into range, Valentin pressed his lips to Greta’s. His right hand lifted to cradle the back of her head affectionately, and gently he leaned into the kiss with his heart wide open. There could be no mistake. He really and truly loved her, and so he kissed her with all the tenderness and sensitivity that entailed. The softness of the boy’s lips tugged gently at hers to request permission before caressing her tongue with a true and complete French Kiss that would last for as long as Greta wanted.

Pulling back with a look of serenity and genuine pleasure, Valentin smiled as if he had finally gotten to tell her what he’d always wanted to say. The rest of the world had melted away for him in this moment and he had no idea how anyone in the vicinity was reacting. Only Greta existed right now. Only Greta and her elegant, thin neck. It looked more delectable than any worldly cuisine he’d ever encountered, and a pang of hunger boiled like a strange tar in his gut. Raising his left hand to frame Greta’s face, Valentin leaned in to then lick the girl’s neck, but bystanders would not see the pink flesh of a normal human tongue.

Dark, almost metallic flesh with swollen bumps and an incredibly shiny wetness emerged from Valentin’s mouth. Coiling in lapping rhythmic wiggles across her skin, the strange and clearly inhuman tissue seemed to be searching for something as it emerged. Wriggling at its base like the undulations of a snail, the “tongue” curled around Greta’s neck as it extended inch by inch. Hunting around at its foot-long length, its venture did not seem to satisfy but rather to confuse as it flicked about. Valentin’s eyes had, meanwhile, rolled into the back of his skull and there was no sense of consciousness left to his facial features. It was as if he’d fallen into an obscure magical coma with all the solemness and none of the comfort of sleep. The seeker’s hand which had once been raised in comforting plush sentiments fell slack to his side, and the bizarre aberration continued to emerge from the boy’s mouth with increasingly indignant swerves. Whatever that thing was that lumped out of Val’s mouth, it was getting grumpy. Now two feet long and leaving a remarkably mercurial silver-black mucus in trails beneath it, it completed its thick squishy loop around Greta’s throat like a macabre necklace out of H.R. Giger. Strange protrusions at the end of the creature, dangling like a pendant at Greta's neck, could be further inspected. However, without getting closer no further details would be clear. The whites of Valentin’s eyes were all that could be seen in them as he hung suspended a foot off the ground from the monstrosity’s grip emanating from the back of his throat. An observant [WIS ≥10] or keen eyed person could readily notice a lack of chest movements from Valentin, the creature's host, as his lungs no longer showed visible pulses of breath. His airway was too severely crushed from the mass pressing out from his esophagus, and surely it would not take very long before the lack of air would take its permanent toll, lodged inside him.

Basic Stats: HP: 795/800; No active bleeding; nose bleed naturally staunched itself
STA 8 - EVA 20 - STR 3 - WIS 20 [24] - ARC 1 - ACC 17

Abilities:
Keen Eye / Charmer / Evasive Maneuvers / Fearless / Comprehend Languages: Parseltongue & Veela
Inventory: A golden locket, a silver earring from the Horntail Horde piercing excursion, a golden ring from Yefim, "some wand," a copy of Romeo’s medical notebook, Oakshaft 79.
Broom bonus stats (when flying): +4 ACC, +4 ARC

Godmods of Greta were made with OOC consent.

threading as Johannes Sauer
speaking in russian unless specified

Ignorant of his own actions, Johannes could but stare in growing uncertainty as Valentin's mental state continued to deteriorate, an unseen phantom looming seemingly just out of reach. To bridge the gap between them was to shatter Valentin's thin facade of sanity. Had Johannes done something in the past few days to warrant such suspicion? Had he (in some reaching, unintentional way) contributed to their Kapitän's current state? There had been something almost searching in the other's uncomfortable glare, wholly grounded in a way his other hallucinations didn't seem to be. The mere thought of it was as daunting as any confessional booth, more so than even the peak of extreme coaching. This was no controlled training- None of them could have prepared for this.

Valentin was almost hysterical in his confusion, present only in the fringes of paranoia as he stumbled under his own terrified weight. Waves of pure, undiluted fear seemed to pour off of the boy, though its origin could not be readily discerned. Their anchor had been swept away, the lighthouse key lost amid the raging storm— If not for the stubborn reminder of his loyalties, Johannes could barely recognize the pale, shuddering figure standing before him as the other clutched his heart (his heart?) in unknown despair and collapsed unceremoniously to the floor.

It was as if their strings had been cut, the once-solemn atmosphere filled with a flurry of frenzied concern. Johannes joined Greta at their #1's other side, sinking into a kneel and heedless of the packed earth and blue-stained snow soaking into his jeans. The sickly sweet aroma of spilt syrup contrasted sharply with the disturbing imagery, but nothing so much as how Valentin clutched at their darling Valkyrie like a dying man. (Church bells— The death knell at hand— No, stop thinking of such preposterous things.) An unknown outpouring of sound burst from their seeker's typically eloquent tone, garbled with muddled lucidity. Though within arms reach, Johannes could only pick up Valentin's premonition of war. Soldiers they had become, consulting a forsaken oracle in any good classical myth. The language, beautiful and unknown as it was, was almost headache-inducing between Valya's wild mutterings.

It was well-known that their good seeker loved with all of his heart, as unconditionally as a sweet child, yet there were no words to describe the depth of Valentin's emotions as he gazed up at Greta. Though tear-streaked and bright-eyed with delirium, it was clear that there was something previously fond that led him to take Greta into a deep, tender kiss before pulling back once more. The mere sight of such affection was enough to make Johannes wish to turn away awkwardly, yet the obscure dread that had settled upon him discouraged inattention. This was no ordinary situation. And that, Johannes realised with some macabre sense of fascination, was no ordinary tongue— only a wet wriggling mass of something emerging from the cavern of Valentin's mouth.

Johannes' nails dragged messy tracks in the disturbed snow as he, recoiling sharply, bore witness to the unsightly emergence of what could only be described as the wizarding world equivalent of a parasitic tapeworm from hell— a closer fit for Dune than a London July. Tar-like in colour and pulsing consistency, its nightmarish, near-metallic appearance would have surely caught the light if they weren't currently in the shade. Whatever it was, it stole Johannes' mind of all other thoughts except for 'what the actual hell...?' as it travelled freakishly from one victim to the next. In shedding Valentin's body like a second skin, this inhuman beast seemed to sap the other's strength to loop around Greta's unprotected neck like some freakish leech-like collar.

Forcibly shaking himself out of his stupor, Johannes jerked forward to intervene however much he could. "Please, please don't scream— Close your mouth! Oh my fucking god-" Surely they were not so far away from the rest of the tents that it isolated them? Surely there were more people to witness and help them in their confrontation? Had even civilization abandoned them? Fighting down a scream of his own, he pulled Greta back from Valya's limp form by the shoulder, reaching out in some attempt to slip a hand between the constrictor-like monstrosity and her vulnerable neck. It was like reaching into liquid nitrogen, except twice as slimy and squirming. He could only imagine how terrifying it would be for Greta.

"Holy shit. We're going to get this thing off of you, alright?" Nevermind the fact that he didn't have the slightest clue what this thing was... Despite Johannes' reassuring words, it was clear that he was out of his depth.

Casting a desperate look up towards both Astrid and Romeo, his thinly veiled alarm silently screamed 'Help me, please.' There were massive gaps in his knowledge and expertise, yet even attempting to look over Valentin's prone body could not fill them. In his panic, Johannes could only see the whites of their seeker's eyes and the mucus-laden tail latched tightly to the back of the other's throat. [R.I.P to 9 Wisdom] So this was what had been piggybacking onto their Kapitän's good health? Dear god.

A chilling thought occurred to him suddenly, yet Johannes was in no easy position to confirm his theories. It would have to wait. Everything would have to wait as they took each issue one step at a time. Even so, Johannes' gaze flickered suspiciously back towards Romeo—sizing up the other's behemoth figure and equally peculiar behaviour— before focusing on his impromptu patient.

Action: Attempting to create some slack between Greta's throat and the... Creature

Mod Information

Outfit==

Reducio

Statistics: Sta: 10 | Eva: 17 | Str: 10 | Wisdom: 9 | Arc: 8 | Acc: 18
Abilities: Foulplay, Charmer, Evasive Maneuvers, Rapid Reviver, Blindvision, Wandmaker*, Lovely Creature

Charmer Allies: Slava Preobrazhensky

Wandmaker Information

Reducio

Dragon Heartstring
- Dragon Like Power: +3 to arcane power when casting spells with this wand.
- Accident Prone: 5% chance that the intended spell will rebound on the caster. Non-targeted spells such as counters, healing, and some utility spells that have no target or are self-targeting cannot rebound. This is not prevented by the Perfectionist ability.

Cedar Wood: "Spells performed against this wand owner's enemies (those who have specifically crossed them) tend to be more painful."
Romanian Longhorn: "When their owner is passionate about something, the spells that successfully go off tend to be more dramatic."

Items: Vials of Revive Potion and Confusing Concoction in inner pockets. Wand in hidden sleeve holster (right hand).

norwegian ❅ russian ❅ english ❅ swedish

july 17 quidditch stadium outfit - earrings

@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood @Piérre Marchonné @Evelynn Decipio @Astrea Soleil Neptune

a shadow tilts it's head at me - spirits in the dark are waiting

❅ ❅ ❅

Johannes joined the small group shortly after Astrid. She smiled at him and noticed he looked tired. Why was it that all the older Durmstrang seemed to look tired, sick, or just unwell? Viktoria hadn't looked like that during her last years in school, had she? Either way, the blond silently promised herself to not look like shit in the years to come. Then she shifted her attention back to their captain who looked worser and worser at each second that was passing. The white haired boy was looking up at Astrid with some kind of concern in his eyes. It was a weird and unusual sight, having your team captain, the one who first noticed you, the one that inspires you, look at you like this. Like he could not be this person anymore. He looked so scared. It was very weird and Astrid needed him to know that whatever happened she would not let him down. But before she could do or say anything, Valentin fell on the ground and rolled on his back. Astrid's eyes widened. He was bleeding. Not a lot, but he was bleeding. Val fell on the ground and Greta was first to knell next to him, followed by Johannes. Astrid looked around, to see if someone saw, if someone could come for help. But there was no one. There were in a fucking quidditch stadium, filled with international students and teachers, but no one was here. "What can we do?" Valid question. "I feel the war coming. It's here. It's here." Okay, Val, what's wrong? Astrid was hardly afraid, ever. But this, this didn't make sense and she was starting to be really concerned for her captain. She knelled next to Greta. And as if this wasn't crazy enough, the boy started talking in a language unknown Astrid, before hugging Durmstrang's Valkyrie. Then he kissed her, like a proper French Kiss. Again, weird, but Val looked less terrified than before. And then shit got officially weird. A sluggish dark thing got out of the boy's mouth and started to strangle Greta. Johannes reacted immediately, trying to free the girl from the slug-thing. Astrid stood still for a few seconds, eyes wide. Nothing made sense, everything happened too fast. Some weird shit was getting out of Valentin's throat and was now strangling Greta. Make it make sense? She blinked once, twice, and got back into movement. Johannes was helping Greta, and another pair of hand could, yes, help her, but it could also make her breathing more difficult until they remove the slug. So Astrid turned her gaze to Val, who was now just a body on the floor, eyes rolled back, a slug coming out of his throat and no chest movement. Okay that was bad, he was not breathing. "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" The girl put her hair up in a bun, revealing her undercut and looked up towards Romeo. "Do something Ro, he's not breathing! You're basically the paramedic here." That's when she noticed that Romeo hadn't said or done a thing since Greta, Johannes, and her arrived. Weird.

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Inventory wand, sketchbook, aquarelle kit
Action starting to panic and noticing that Val isn't breathing (keen eye)
sta ● 11 | eva ● 9 | str ● 6 | wis ● 10 | arc ● 7 | acc ● 9
fearless - obnoxiously strong - keen eye - charmer
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