Closed Frostflower Meadow Crystallofolia PV

𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙵𝙸𝚃: Reducio

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▪ 𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈 ▪ ▪ FELIX ▪ KOLBECK ▪ ▪ DURMSTRANG iNPC ▪ SIXTH YEAR ▪

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𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂: Reducio

"There we go," Lin Kolbeck had all but happily purred as she adjusted the collar of the shirt beneath the beige cable-knit sweater she had practically shoved her son's head into, like a socialite dressing a growling chihuahua.

"Yeah, perfect choice, Mum; it only looks like a blind centenarian woman picked out my clothing for me." Felix grumbled in their native language.

Lin's nose wrinkled as her lips twisted into a scowl. "You should be thankful your father and I are even letting you attend camp this year, considering every time you mingle with these... Hogwartians, you end up coming back claiming to be in love with... Muggles." She whispered the last word as if it were a swear word.

"They are MUGGLEBORNS, mother, and you won't have to worry about that this y— NO!" Felix interrupted himself when Lin reached over to try to brush his hair back. Every time he returned home for winter or summer break, he enchanted it back to its natural color.

"Don't touch my hair!" He swatted her hand away and leaned down to swing his leather saddlebag over his shoulder, his trunk bobbing behind him. Soon, he told himself, they'd use Portkeys to reach London Quidditch Stadium soon.

"It's messy; you look like you just got out of bed. Wait! Pyret little creature, no more muggles! There will be consequences this time!" Lin's shrill voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard as he rushed away from her. He could only grumble under his breath. He planned to get through the Portkey and into his tent as soon as possible before too many people saw him as... Ugh, some sort of normie.

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Felix ignored any greetings as he dashed through the stadium after finding the location of his lodging for the next month. He shoved the tent's entrance flap open and stalled in his tracks. What the actual fuck was this? It looked like some sort of green hell. Like a tent idea ripped straight from the imagination of an actual child. It was with a signature eye roll he trudged through the tent, swatting at the flowers in his way before dumping his satchel on one of the oversized pillows near the back of the tent. He positioned the trunk at the end of his ‘bed’ and promptly began searching through his bag to find his brown leather jacket. It was a bit worn but lined with wool and happened to be one of his personal favourites.

norwegian ❅ russian ❅ english ❅ swedish

july 15 outfit

@Evelynn Decipio @Winnie Harper

down in the forest - we'll sing a chorus

❅ ❅ ❅

Viktoria Olsen had finally graduated from Durmstrang with the Dark Arts cursus, and she was now taking a gap year to travel the Wizarding World. The first step was the United Kingdom, and Astrid came with her. For ten days, the two sisters visited ancient wizard-related sites all around the UK and Ireland. Their last stop was London, where they visited the city before sleeping at the Leaky Cauldron. On Monday morning, Astrid packed her suitcase for camp, and the girl went breakfasting on ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. At 9 am, they went out on Muggle London and walked to the London Quidditch Stadium. When they arrive in front of the stadium, Astrid could already see the inside. It looked magical. It looked like winter, but without the cold weather - which honestly was the best part of winter. Like, what's the point of winter if not be enveloped in a warm blanket with hot chocolate and cookies? Viktoria squeezed her sister's hand, who looked up to see tears in her big sister's eyes. She dropped her suitcase on the floor and tiptoed to hug Viktoria. She pulls back and says "I don't care about your whole program, you're coming back home between camp school." The older girl chuckled, and look and the younger one fondly. "I'll do what I can." Astrid glared at her. "I know your program. If you're not home by August 28, I'll come get you" she replies, pouting. Viktoria genuinely laughs, and hugs her sister. "Ok, have fun! See you on August 28 my favourite gremlin!" Sticking out her tongue towards her sister, Astrid grabs her suitcase and walks into the stadium. Everything is truly stunning. The fake snow is pretty great, even if you can tell it's fake. The temperature in the stadium is a few degrees lower than the outside, which feels great. Always the same thing with Hogwarts. It looks great at first, but is it really? Astrid has hope for this one because the drama she saw was mostly during the balls, and not really camp. But really, anything could happen. The girl eyes the crowd of students, looking for familiar faces, Durmstrang faces. She spots them, and walks towards them. Discussing tents, she chooses the Frostflower Meadow, because it looks amazing, and she is right. The tent is amazing. Astrid enters the tent just behind Felix, one of her Quidditch teammate. "Oh my god it's so pretty!! Hey Felix." Wildflowers, summer flowers, ice flowers everywhere. Here and there, eight huge pillows as beds. Amazed by this tent that is a good representation of the girl's dream house, she lets herself fall on one of the pillows, and is embalmed by the scent of jasmine that seems to come from the bed itself. This is literally perfect. Suitcase abandoned next to the bed she claimed, and ignoring Felix's grumpy face, she stood back up to really look around the tent. Apart from the flowers and pillow-beds, a literal hot pool was at the back of the tent. "i want this tent at home" she muttered under her breath.

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sta ● 11 | eva ● 9 | str ● 6 | wis ● 10 | arc ● 7 | acc ● 9
fearless - obnoxiously strong - keen eye - charmer
Post 1

‘Have fun.’

‘What?’ Hans turned sharply as the calloused hand of Opa¹ was placed upon his shoulder, an action oft-shared between the two since Hans’ childhood, and with the heir rapidly catching up to the height of his elder and the Schafer patriarch, it seemed as if this action of endearment and pride would soon no longer stand between them. ‘What were you thinking about?' He asked, tone showing he was not yet too elderly to be mischievous as his fingers danced on Hans' shoulder. Pushing his hand off with a laugh, he replied in an attempt to brush it off, 'Nothing!' Giving him a suspicious glance, he continued, 'A certain girl, maybe, hm?' Grunting and casting his eyes away, he responded tensely, word drawn out, 'Maybe.' In fact, he was fairly certain this "maybe" was a "yes".

Shifting his weight back to face the Scottish landscape, covered in an icing of snow despite the summer months (clearly the organisers had spent far too much time in the southern hemisphere), he kept his eyes forward as Otto repeated, ‘Have fun, it’s summer-’. Chuckling at that, Hans tossed his head back to look his beloved grandfather in the eyes, grinning as the elder Schafer ran a hand through his hair, a tousled and longer version of his own brown-blonde colour, ‘Exactly. The summer vibes are vibing.’ Eyes flitting to the environment before them, Otto conceded and corrected himself, ‘It’s the holiday.’ Shaking his head, Hans straightened himself and turned in a swaggering flourish to face his grandfather, ‘Well, don’t you worry Opa, because I’m the official king of fun.’ Smiling in a mirror image of his grandchild’s cocky grin Otto said, ‘I never doubted that. It’s just they don’t make camps have as interesting anymore. We used to run around and drink too much beer-’ Cutting him off, Hans waved an absent minded hand in the air as he set his track to the direction of the gathering of tents laid out before him in a myriad of carnivalesque colour and variation, ‘I know, I know. Wonderful.' Turning back once more, he called out, 'Pick me up 11^th August?' After his grandfather's confirmation and goodbyes shared, the German boy set off without once looking back. Well, this "summer" camp ought to be exciting.

The tent, however, was underwhelming. Or, perhaps, to put it in other words: it was a little too overwhelming, just as how the hottest of objects are cold to first touch. Instead of a sophisticated lodging for (obviously) the best wizarding institution to ever exist, Hans had been presented with a Tiana-themed six-year-old girl's birthday party, which, to say the least, was not ideal. To begin with, if Hogwarts was offering accommodation, they could at least provide beds. Instead, all that lay in front of him were eight oversized pillows, all looking equally horrible. And not to even mention the flowers. They were everywhere, and only later would he discover the discomfort of their tickling on his turning and unsleeping body late at night. All he could do now was thank the heavens he was not allergic to pollen. Yet, reluctantly, he chose the one closest to the heated pool, possibly the only advantage to this flower-strewn tent.

However, it now seemed that Hans was not entirely accurate in that statement. Astrid had always been a "hallway crush", as they say. Outside seeing her while spectating Quidditch, however, he had rarely caught a glimpse of her, much less got a chance to interact with the blonde-haired angel. And today, she had even decided to dress like an angel, simply to tug on Hans' naïve heart? Now speaking to - of all people, no less - Felix Kolbeck, Hans' gaze lingered but quickly cut away, unable to understand their Nordic language anyway. Throwing his pack onto the "bed" and kicking his suitcase into the indicated storage areas, he laid down on the pillow and shifted uncomfortably as a flower played at his face. 'Goddamnit, this'll be fun,' he murmured to himself in his native tongue.

1: Grandpa

Mentions: @Winnie Harper as Felix Kolbeck and @Anastasia Varney as @Astrid Olsen

open to interaction

Quiet, unmoving, the boy stood at the entrance of the tent. A blank face and rigid movements as he navigated toward an empty bed areas; second closest to the entrance would be his choice. Close enough for escape to be a simple thing and secure enough to not be the first thing one's eyes settled on upon entering. Sprouting around he found Azalea, Forsythia and Nasturtium. The mostly yellow and orange flowers off-set by the burst of pink hues from the Azalea. The boy pretty much ignorant to the world and faces around him as he set up his things. And he did so by gingerly placing his bag beneath the pillowy bed. The scents around him refreshing and allowing for a bit more relaxation to run through his brain as the peppery and honey filled notes reached him.

His gaze would search around, taking in the tent and finding it a suitable space to stay, the people that had already arrived would be interesting to watch, he found. Some of them he would recognize as certain people he could put a name to, others however seemed more like ghosts he had seen previously around at school. There was little to be said about those he did not know yet, nor did he care to truly know them as long as he knew of their habits and how to exist around them.

Semyon had been torn between the tents he was meant to pick from, though in the end the promise of sleeping surrounded by scents of flowers had won over the astronomy tent. Though he enjoyed some star gazing and certainly would have felt the security of being near the captain who had taken the task upon himself to protect the second year, regardless of need for protection, but he realized also that the collection of flowers in this winter land of a summer would prove difficult, unless he were to stick to a flowery tent. And perhaps the scent of flowers could be more comforting than the thought of being near Valentin and possibly Romeo. They were upper years and Valentin at the very least seemed to be fond of Semyon for a reason the boy did not particularly care about. Surely being on his own couldn't be so bad, if anything he welcomed this change, especially if there were things to be done still in this summer. If anything the distance could be good for him, distance and his lonesome self would appreciate some room to breathe, as the honey scents of the Forsythia proved. Room for thought and reflection.

So in the end, he settled down and kept his gaze unfocused on the people around him, a note pad set on his lap.

threading as Johannes Sauer

speaking in russian unless specified

Outfit===

For all of the sentimental sendoffs his peers had likely engaged in, Johannes had none of the same treatment.

Unwilling to ruin his cultivated persona and armed with far too much independence growing up, his relationship with his grandfather was truly one of mutual coexistence. A traditionalist patriarch and once long-retired from child-rearing, Alexander Manfred Sauer maintained himself just as straightforward and slightly awkward as any outdated parenting book would suggest. His wife had once taken on most of the parenting for their children, leaving him to act as an otherwise moral, disciplinary figure. As such, caring for his youngest grandchild had been approached with the solemnness of raising mini-adults.

Growing up, Johannes had once been quite delighted to be treated so maturely after the chaotically condensed pampering of his parents. Even his earned role in Durmstrang's most delinquent ranks had been simply accepted, with his grandfather trusting him to avoid biting off more than he could chew. As he grew older and his circles expanded, however, it became clear that this child-rearing method also had deficiencies. The general expectation of competence and lesson-oriented attention had taught him much about the world— simultaneously, it had also created an emotional barrier that Johannes loathed to break. The sting of accidental dismissal grew less targeted every year, there were always some weeks where it seemed like they were never quite on the same page. With most of his year spent at Durmstrang anyway, their rare months of peace would just be ruined with needless worry. In any case, any silly-sweet well-wishes would sound weird on his grandfather's tongue. Lacking all the fuss of departure, Johannes had left for London only with the promise of relative safety without his Hounds to keep him in check.

Entering the tent, he completely bypassed the empty entrance vase in favour of staking out his summer territory. He'd help 'decorate' it later when there were more helping hands and a lot less responsibility to distribute. For now, however, Johannes was more than content to drop his bags and immediately collapse face-first into a random pile of pillows (why were there so many pillows?) and furs. Dramatic to a fault, no one could accuse him of underreacting. All faded blacks and a borrowed leather jacket, he stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the swaying native grasses and colourful flowers. Whoever had washed their bedding must have been wearing some sort of girly perfume... This close, all he could smell was fresh laundry and something else lightly floral. Citrusy sweet, almost. "G’mornin’ everyone..." Voice muffled by his landlocked dead man's float, Johannes' half-hearted tone made it clear that he was functioning off of pure courtesy. No morning was 'good' in his book unless it was well before sunrise and today was no exception.

After what felt like an eternity’s-worth too short of blissful peace (read: less than 5 minutes of laying uncomfortably on his own accessories), he begrudgingly sat up to face the rest of the tent. Waking reality wasn't usually this well-decorated. Then again, the London Quidditch Stadium usually didn't get snow in the middle of July.

Their tent decorations were sort of pretty, albeit in a meadowy, nomadic 'childhood fantasy' sense. Not quite Durmstrang's normal taste but Johannes could see the appeal for their least-dour peers. It even smelled sweet and airy, lacking all of the London air pollution they were surrounded by outside of the quidditch stadium. Only the abundance of frost-flowers and stray icicles took away from the otherwise prairie-like scene. The only possible downside(?) was the sheer natural brightness compared to Durmstrang's other option next door. Visitors filtering in and out of each tent would have to get used to both their own dimness and the Outside World before getting flash-banged with artificial springtime. Thank god for the lack of pollen allergies. (Was there a magical cure for mundane allergies? Magical pharmacies didn't exist, did they? Do apothecaries serve the same function for OTC medicine? He should know this...)

In any case, hanging out with Slava for a whole summer sounded a lot more fun than the nightly horrors of avoiding captain intervention. Johannes was neither awake nor alive enough to deal with his Kapitan's puppy-eyed concern. Environment thoroughly judged (was that a pool at the back of the tent? Why didn't Durmstrang have hot springs when it was so damn cold there?), Johannes moved on to idly observe his current tentmates. Er, his known current tentmates, not including the random(?) underclassmen amongst their ranks. Unfortunately for courtesy's sake, there were far better things to do than make introductions.

Astrid, ever expectedly dressed in a pretty light-coloured dress, seemed just as easy-going as ever. Summer camp truly would benefit from her well-needed bluntness. In stark comparison, Felix looked about as thrilled as a sour-faced prep in afterschool detention. Single-mindedly sifting through his packed wardrobe, their new #15 had never been more suitable for the light/floral academia aesthetic. "Nice outfit, Nubuck. The fake khakis and cable-knit are a choice." RIP Felix, for Johannes was not a normie (thank god) but a hater. Oh, to suffer through the teenage humiliation of overbearing parental involvement! With every month spent at home, a random punk loses their spikes. Johannes certainly couldn't relate. As a latchkey child born and raised, it was somewhat funny to see Lin's influence on his fellow bad boy.