The Mistletoe Spin Group #9 Summer Camp 2024

@Dealla Prince, @Allister-Jameson MacAllister,
Johannes Sauer (@Astrea Soleil Neptune), Everett Brooks (@Dorion Anderson)

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	"Hey, Durmstrang! If I'm going to watch, you better win!" As the song struck up and pulled them apart, Mad had looked back for Dee until he lost sight of her fiery dress, quietly cursing the fact that they hadn't wound up under a mistletoe. His only solace was that this forced him to showcase his silver tongue in the metaphorical sense, actually getting to know her in the process. Making a move could come later. There was no doubt in his mind that they would win the next game, and who wouldn't be impressed by Durmstrang's Blatch Bandit? Hopefully not the blue-eyed witch. She seemed like the type to appreciate a win-at-all-costs player... maybe. "Oh...aye, thas Dee, weer... clussmeets?" Thoughts still stuck on his past partner, Madhup hadn't helped asking about her, but the answers Allister offered were completely lost on him. His eyebrows arched high as that heavy Scottish accent rolled into one ear and tumbled out the other. With a sympathetic shake of his head, a blank expression transitioned into profound sadness. "Going to an English speaking school but cannot speak English. Poor pretty giant." Mad reached up to gently detach wax from AJ's hair, if allowed, crumbling it carelessly onto the dancefloor in his effort to "empathize". He carried on despite his belief that the Scotsman couldn't understand him, hoping his well-meaning words somehow carried through tone. "I know your pain: I could not speak clean Russian when I came to Durmstrang, but I learned from my friends. There there. You will learn to speak someday." The Chaser rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing with a smile before they separated. Mad wore a neutral smirk while his appraising stare slid from one partner to the next, blooming into a warm grin once he was wheeled towards Johannes. His fingers flexed in a grabby reach, teeth flashing joyfully at the Keeper's praise. A twist one way then the other made the tailcoats sway from side to side. Jo's Russian was met, eloquently as Mad could manage. "A fancy witch made it for me. And you, so dashing! Maybe I could borrow one of your collars...?" Makeup, accessories, they all wound up returned eventually. "Y'know, I saw you getting real cosy with Dee and Lix earlier.” "Dee? That's her name? The Hogwarts girl has eyes like the sky.... Oh- Lix came on to me!" Mad went straight from swooning, to pretending to play the victim, to threatening Jo with a wagging finger. "You would be next-" he pointed at the mistletoe overhead "-but I am not an animal. I brush my teeth between kisses." In his enthusiasm, Mad might have lost track of protecting the team's tiniest sister from a bad match, and was only loosely reminded of it when Jo asked about blacklisters. "No, the night is perfect. Time to relax, Jo. Live a little!" The Chaser moved in for a teasing nudge. As soon as he was asked for a Swedish translation, however, Madhup became fully focused, waving in towards himself as if coaxing the Keeper to lay any challenge on him. The request was eagerly accepted, proud to use what he knew to help a friend. He was unfazed when his next dance partner chose to take a turn talking to Jo. Content with being called lovely, he wiggled his fingers in a forgiving farewell, dipping off to the sideline so he could check the reflection of his hair in a punch bowl.
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scuse late replies, fell behind! exiting scene unless further interactions, thanks all~

Dee grinned and flicked her hair over her shoulder. More out of habit at this point, she poked at Tristan's chest with a finger. "My friends call me Dee. And anyone else who doesn't want to die a painful death does as well."

Tristan's answer about his luck, or lack thereof, was met with a shrug. She'd been looking to jumpstart a conversation, and gone for the obvious topic. Although she was at least a little surprised to hear that he hadn't 'come looking for kisses'. "Lucky means what you make of it, I guess. Although I do think most people who signed up for this at least wouldn't be unhappy about the kissing aspect of it. Otherwise they are probably at the wrong event, eh?" She winked at him, then smiled at his question, her gaze skipping across the dancefloor to one specific figure dressed in bright gold. "Hmm. Maybe? Let's just say I've made some interesting new acquaintances tonight. Did your quest for new friends work out?"

Her question about his name had been more formality than anything; at this point, she knew the faces in her year, and between her rather illustrious past as prefect, duelling captain, and reporter for the Headliner, she assumed people knew hers too. Still, her eyebrows rose at the offer to call him any name she could think of. "Sure I can, but what do you prefer?"

Excitement wasn't exactly what she felt about sixth year, but she nodded her support for the O.W.L.s being done and past. "Not going to miss the studying, definitely. Maybe a more chill year? Might drop a few classes, we'll see." She wouldn't, but it was nice to have the option. His apology was waved away with a flick of her wrist, but by then the music was starting up again. "I talk enough for two myself, so can't really fault that in others. I'm sure we'll see each other again in class - good luck with the friend thing!"

After another round of hopping and twirling - perhaps it was getting a little old at this point, especially since she'd rather clearly made up her mind about who here she actually wanted to talk to, and the dancing spell had stopped cooperating with her to make that happen - and she found herself facing someone who was now a lot more familiar than he'd been when the night started, if only from a distance. Eyebrows raised, judgment obvious in her expression, she faced down Felix.

"Well, your relationships seem like a mess," she observed, skipping any niceties or, Merlin forbid, smalltalk. It seemed unnecessary. "You seem very clearly interested in one person here, but you seem well on your way to kissing everyone present." Which she was possibly only aware of because it had been pointed out to her rather insistently, terrible impression included, but hey; now that she was aware, it did seem very obvious. "Might want to sort that out, or she'll get the wrong idea." She reached out to pat his shoulder, then glanced up and made a face. "Of course my only mistletoe of the night would be with you." Except for the one she'd stood under with Manu, but she conveniently forgot about that. "Go figure."

@Tristan Theramin | Felix Kolbeck (@Winnie Harper)

Stats | Sta 7 | Eva 16 | Str 3 | Wis 15 | Arc 8 | Acc 20
Evasive Maneuvers | Charmer | Perfectionist II | Spell Spread | Restricted Potions
Charmer affects everyone present.

𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙵𝙸𝚃: Reducio

│ │ │

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

│ │ │

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂: Reducio @Evelynn Decipio as Greta @Opeila Winters as Theo @Dealla Prince @Pericles Dralt as Madhup @Aly Salinger as Manu

Kid. Tight shirt had called him a child. They were the same damn height and Theo must have weighed like what, 70 pounds soaking wet underneath his child sized shirt?! The guy had some nerve trying to play the 'mature older guy' card when at most he was a few months older than Felix. "I could go on if you actually want to start something. I could mention how you look like the cover band version of every indie rock front man, but it didn't seem productive."

"Forsberg? That asshole? Didn't know you had the misfortune of knowing him." Felix really didn't know much about the guy, mostly because he tried to stay away from him. He looked like a walking bottle of hair gel carved with a permanent scowl. He hadn't known the older guy was after Greta, thank God he had graduated.

Oh, how knightly Mr. Shirt was turning out to be—defending Greta's honour or whatever the hell he was going on about. How dare he be considerate of what she wanted; that was HIS job. It just also happened to be his job to tell her when she was obviously WRONG.

How dare Theo assume Felix wanted to be with Greta! ... Well, he did, but it wasn't the American's job to point that out when the Swede was just sorting it out himself. "I respect Greta, but let’s not pretend she’s not naive. The difference between us is that I know I'm an asshole who doesn't deserve her; she'd never be happy with me. I just want to make sure some dick without the same self-awareness doesn’t come along and hurt her."

He was just starting to let his guard down when Theo spoke about hurting him. "I think I like you more after this, T-Shirt. You still have to work on your look and your—GRETA?!" The Swede almost jumped out of his skin when he realized the tiny Norwegian was screaming over at them. Fuck, just how much of that had she heard?

... Apparently not much as she spoke in adorably broken English. He'd forgotten her grasp on the language was a bit... looser than his own. "Wait, no," He tried to yell back at her, sticking to English for some god forsaken reason. The curse of being multilingual was sometimes you forgot to switch languages. "He wasn't threatening me—" Well, he kind of had, but it was a hypothetical threat.

It was then that her dazzling spell casting ability was put on full display as she tried to slug Theo. Thankfully the guy had already managed to slip away from the entire scene, but Felix had to wonder if he had heard her yelling.

He was about to run over to her and explain, when the damn music started back up again. He cursed under his breath. He couldn't believe Greta had defended him against the boy Felix had assumed she had a crush on. Not only was he not used to people standing up for him, but there was something adorable in how protective the tiny Valkyrie was.

Another dance break, another awkward encounter. He'd gotten the fucking mistletoe. AGAIN. Why? 'Well, your relationships seem like a mess.' Said the random brunette girl who had apparently decided it was her business to talk about his personal life. "Goddamn, hello to you too, are you a seer or have you been in contact with my mother?"

He shrugged, "I do alright, it's not my fault the mistletoe loves me." If she wanted the mistletoe so bad, why the hell couldn't the thing have followed HER around instead of him? "Maybe it's because your dress is a fire hazard, Flames."

A hand reached up to pat the one she'd left on his shoulder. Any other night, he might have kissed the girl, but after the mess he'd caused... It was likely better that he didn't. Her introduction to him didn't exactly give off 'oh please kiss me anyways' vibes. "So sorry to disappoint, but it appears I'm all kissed out tonight, but maybe I can make it up to you. I've got a friend who's been dying for a good kiss all night. Something about me having lackluster lips." Yes, he was a terrible kisser, Dee would just have to take pity on poor Madhup and make his night better or some shit. That way #9 would forget about the raincheck Felix had promised him.

"OI, MADHUP! I need you to come cut in! DON'T KEEP THIS LOVELY LADY WAITING." He grinned down at the Hogwarts girl, wagging his brows as if to say, 'you're welcome', before turning a heel to find Greta.

The Valkyrie was between a candle with a curly haired girl that Felix hadn't caught the name of. "Excuse me, mind if I cut in?" He asked the girl, ignoring her answer regardless of what it was. His fingers wrapped around Greta's wrist and he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Lets get out of here, before you slug any more furniture."

threading as Johannes Sauer
speaking in russian (and english!!) as specified

When it came to the mistletoe in the room, Johannes fortunately had nothing to fear. Thank god for Madhup indulging in his fashion distractions, pretty swinging tailcoat and all. Compliments to the designer (a very fancy witch indeed), for their #9 had never glowed brighter. Between the candlelight and evident lightheartedness, who was Johannes to dampen the mood with unfounded suspicions?

Madhup's theatrics were well-matched, and the other's mindfulness would be taken with a healthy dose of flattered ribbing. “How hygienic of you. But who said I wanted your mouth germs anyway?” He wasn't planning on kissing anyone tonight anyway, so perhaps it was good that the chaser saved his smooches. If things went well, Mad could score the girl with eyes like the sky. Romantic as hell for a first meeting... Johannes couldn’t quite see through the chaser’s rose-tinted glasses but he could certainly see the potential here. International romances usually had as much success as playing craps against a pair of loaded dice— it was only fortunate that their passionate #9 was a dab hand at foul play. And he deserved some good things in life, even if Durmstrang would have to be more subtle in performing background checks on random girls rather than no-good boys. Even silly swooning and a pretty dress couldn't protect people's love lives from that Durmstrangian tradition. “Hey, but you didn't even get her name earlier, Stinger. Let's see you shoot your shot tomorrow.” Did their #9 even need permission to pick through Johannes' accessory collection? Durmstrang just acquired a new side quest: Keep Mad looking cool enough to woo someone from another school. The chaser's pre-built specializations in charm and individuality made it exceptionally easy but hey— it was always good to be reminded of the bigger picture. A bigger picture that decidedly does not colour outside the language lines for drama to get lost in translation, cough cough.

Yeah, no. Johannes was not getting in between that, not with Theo making his way downtown quick enough to catch closing bus doors. Yeesh, what a mess. What was it with Durmstrang and misunderstandings? Watching their captains stumble around each other like the world's most romantic situationship was bad enough, but Felix and Greta had spellwork, foreigners and a green-tinged chair thrown into the mix. Because why not? The sheer drama of it all was admirable.

Yet another round of dancing cut short Group 9's brief glimpses into Durmstrangian camaraderie, sending Johannes off into the social hustle until both magic and music faded away at once. About time... Readjusting the fine chains over his outfit, he switched back to English. All he needed to do was get through this last matchup and then he was done for the night. “Looks like that's the extent of our meet-n-greet torture... Meet anyone interesting, stranger?” Johannes hadn't kept track of how many rounds they'd been put through, but he could at least recognize some people now. For one, "AJ" (identified only according to Dee's helpful recollections) was simply really damn tall. Not nearly on par with Romeo, but who could ever compare with that guy? Besides Johannes standing at merely chin height with the other, the Hogwarts(??) student was likely the most informally dressed person on their dance floor. While everyone else had gotten their layers pressed, this one had deemed genericism event-ready. Such a carefree attitude deserved some vague amount of respect.

The semi-polite confines of acquaintanceship seemed slightly shallow now that he'd tasted familiarity and had the chance for freedom. What was he doing here, schmoozing it with their once-opponents like high schoolers at Homecoming? Johannes was just looking forward to making a clean, casual exit when his hopes were abruptly dashed by the one person he had hoped to avoid all night.

Shit. Wishing for an unproblematic finish would be too easy, wouldn't it? Even foreign magic couldn't be so merciful! Called upon, Johannes' previously genial expression twisted first into instinctual irritation before draining into a guarded coolness. The humiliating taste of apprehension sat heavy in his chest. To turn and speak to Everett Brooks once more was like taking a knife to the chest— like tugged stitches over a long-forgotten wound. “Privately, hm?” Possessed with deadpan disbelief, the sheer audacity of Rett's meek request left Johannes thoroughly unimpressed. Of course, they'd talk after they lost the social limit of revolving rounds... Was there anywhere private near this goddamn stadium? Had the American suddenly developed a sense of shame in their years apart? It certainly hadn’t been present when the other had publicly made out with someone else at a ball... Crossing his arms defensively, Johannes scrutinized the blonde for any hint of trickery. If it existed (if the ambush predator had remorse), he couldn't pick it up between the distraction of everything else.

In truth, Everett looked just as pretty and prep as he did years ago. The only thing that had really changed was the other's hair, but even that seemed to distinguish between the sour-sweet memories and someone he might have liked once. Ill-fitting unease humanised the American, tarnishing the usual glint of fine flattery. It was a novelty and a half considering previous evidence. Even so, the mere thought of confrontation made Johannes want to flee the scene just as quickly as Theo had. He and Rett hadn't seen each other in years... surely a few more couldn't hurt? The distorting hands of time had widened the perceived distance, placing them no longer face-to-face but on the edge of a great precipice. The hill he'd die on seemed alarmingly unsteady— One of them would have to fall.

“...I might mind.” Johannes' words were aloof and none-too-friendly, yet he reluctantly stepped away from his assigned partner regardless. “Where to?” Breaking eye contact, he cast a disappointed glance towards the rest of his friend group. They'd be no help, not between the punch bowls and fairytale flirting. He felt like a cornered lamb being led out to slaughter, like a hostage without backup.

Action: Going through emotional whiplash...

Mod Information

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: @Greta Fransson, @Felix Kolbeck, @Madhup Hexum

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."

Outfit Reference

Reducio

♢ Date | 2 August, 2024 ♢
♢ Interacting With | Johannes Sauer^{@Astrea Soleil Neptune}♢
♢ Hex Code | #C08838 ♢

The cold disposition that rolled off of Johannes like crashing waves almost startled Rett. It was really kind of amazing how high and mighty he held himself despite being the one that gave Rett the cold shoulder. He felt his resolve harden, his heart already putting up the bricks that he had begun to take down for others. His shoulders squared up and he walked away from Johannes off to the side, refusing to touch him. His head jerked towards the side of the area where the event was being held. At the very least they could be farther away from prying ears. "I promise I won't take up too much of your precious time." His sweet tone turned sour, the honey sweet accent not tasting as sweet upon his tongue.

He took a deep breath, back still to the taller, incredibly handsome, chiseled jawline, boy. Shit- Rett couldn't help but find him attractive. Especially since they both looked like people and not babies anymore. As he turned, his eyes were frozen over like the glacier that had formed over his heart to protect him from being hurt by Johannes again. "I think it's interesting that you're the one that acts like the scorned lover, despite you being the one that never wrote me back, never even looked at me after that summer." His hands had balled into fists, shaking slightly at his sides. His eyebrows were furrowed together so intensely that it was like they were trying to fuse together.

"Every week, from the time I returned to Ilvermorny to the week before we returned in October I wrote you letters. Not a single one did you write back to. You could've told me to fuck off for all I care, but you make out with me and then... nothing?" He sighed, crossing his arms and never breaking eye contact with the boy. "I get it- summer flings, whatever, whatever. Not like you proposed or asked me out- but we even kind of went on a date after? I just-" This was when he looked away. "What did I even do to you? Did you find me so revolting that you could never bear to look at me again?"

His hard resolve softened for just a moment. It was kind of insane that he was doing this in the first place. Why was he confronting him after a full four years after all this had happened. What did Rafa and him breaking up do to him? Why was he desperate for validation that there wasn't anything wrong with him, that he wasn't a disgusting blob monster of hormones. His voice was as quiet as a whisper as he gazed at Johannes, remembering the vulnerability that he had once given to the boy before having that trust ripped away by ghosting. "I really did like you."

It felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for Johannes' response. If the boy in front of him even decided to grace him with a reason for being the worst boy Rett ever had the displeasure of knowing... and kissing.

Action || Being an Angsty 16-Year-Old

threading as Johannes Sauer
speaking in english(!!) as specified

Bound not by oath but expectations, Johannes silently followed Everett off the checkered dance floor and into the quieter outskirts. There was a bite to the other's sweet voice now, that unnatural timidness quickly replaced with steel distaste. So be it. It would have been intimidating if not for Johannes' own unwillingness to broker diplomatic argumentation. As it was, such sourness was well-anticipated.

Despite his standoffishness, however, the Hellhound was also not one to master being holier-than-thou when unfairly accused. “What the hell are you even talking about?” He, the scorned lover? Even contempt would have been preferable to the spiralling unknown! A cold wash of pure indignation melted Johannes' frosty exterior as quickly as it had formed. “I didn't get a single thing— not from you, at least. Letters, texts, nothing! If you'd sent owls, there's no fucking record of it. How am I supposed to respond to something I didn't know existed?” What was this, the Scarlet Letter? One wrong move of perceived disloyalty and he was being put on trial. If this was what had plagued Rett all these years, it was news to him. “Not a lick of acknowledgement... Didn't even see you again till that goddamn masquerade ball months later.” He recalled the ball theme like a curse— a crime— a plague upon both their houses. No matter how briefly decent the event was, Hogwarts had a special talent for tainting every memory.

“By then...” Johannes' severity faltered momentarily at the distant memory of betrayal. Even so many years later, it was still sharp enough to force him out of their furious sham of a staring contest. The near-wistfulness of his words was well at odds with the way he resolutely glared away from Everett. “Well, I figured it would've been too late. You looked happy enough.” The pale florals of Rett's casually unbuttoned dress shirt seemed to mock him, the enchanted snow doubly so. He'd seen the other couple together only briefly, but it was long enough to realise they'd both replaced the other. All of this confrontation that Rett wanted would have made him look like a bitchy ex-lover looking to ruin someone's happiness. But if Everett wanted that jealous shit over the silence that had stretched thin over them, Johannes could deliver.

He drew in a sharp breath, abruptly shoving aside any scraps of weakness that had inadvertently revealed themselves. Once more, he braved that unforgiving stare to say his part. “Guess I was wrong. What, would you have liked me to ruin your day earlier in the years apart?” Johannes' voice came out a little meaner than intended, the venomous bite of sarcasm attempting to stoke a fire long put out. “Why run back for closure now? Hadn't we already buried this?” Why would he take these accusations lying down? What other response was expected of him? It was easier to provoke Everett than to face the cruel consequences of something neither of them could have anticipated. Self-sabotage was an art form, violence was its paintbrush. All Rett needed was a nudge in the right direction for Johannes to seem like the asshole he was. One punch— one small sacrifice to excuse fleeing the area and he could put off this entire confrontation for another day. Another year. Forever, if he tugged on his own leash hard enough to choke out the taste of misplaced regret. Hell, his friends were busy enough that he could probably do all of this and still avoid making a scene.

Yet, past all the confused resentment, there was something almost pleading in Everett's gaze. Johannes had prepared himself for the long haul of inevitable violence, for the near-privacy of the event's outskirts to instigate drama like no other. This rarely-seen vulnerability was worse than anything he could have imagined. Whatever terrible remarks he had left died in his throat at the other's quiet admission. I really did like you. Wasn’t that the awful truth of it? In another life, if all else failed, they could have been something close to friends. Struck grimly silent, the lingering threads of his wounded pride warred violently with this new information.

Almost subconsciously, Johannes clutched his chest with a restless sense of agitation. It felt suspiciously heavy, as if memory itself weighed him down. “I...” I'm sorry. “I never intended any of it to be this way.” The pretty ruffles of his shirt bunched terribly in his hand— yet another piece of collateral damage in the never-ending war of his love life. Taking responsibility for a two-person failure felt less like a loss and more like a confession. Considering his sudden incapability towards anger, maybe it was. “...We could have been good together.” The mere idea of it was bittersweet, totally inconceivable considering the circumstances that had played out in the years apart. How would they have dealt with Hexwizard pitting them against each other? Summer camps? Quidditch? Things had only gotten bigger and almost-better since they'd met. It would do them little good to rely on childish what-ifs, especially so many years later.

The situation had long ago rotted without closure. They were just digging up bones now.

Action: All aboard the Angst Train : )

Mod Information

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: @Greta Fransson, @Felix Kolbeck, @Madhup Hexum

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."

Outfit Reference

Reducio

And he was cranky. Dee shrugged, amused. "Not your mother, but your friends are very invested in your relationships. Really, you've been providing the main entertainment of the night." Not that the rest hadn't been entertaining in its own right. Not what she'd expected, or hoped for, for that matter, but entertaining nonetheless.

She had her mouth half-open, breath drawn to tease him some more, but Felix seemed to have different ideas. Dee jumped slightly when he started yelling over her shoulder, calling for someone named Madhup, but when Dee turned around, she couldn't figure out who he meant. Moreover, before she could ask him to point out who he had picked out for her - so she could decide whether she actually wanted to be here when said friend showed up - Felix had already left, making a beeline for the girl he'd been kissing earlier.

Dee rolled her eyes, turning around to survey the room herself. Well, perhaps he would figure out his relationships after all. Even if that meant that the entire rest of Durmstrang would need to find a new hobby.

Suppressing a yawn, Dee lifted a foot to massage her ankles - she was not used to wearing heels, nor to dancing, and especially not to doing both at once - only to almost tip over sideways. Cursed shoes. Perhaps it was time to listen to her feet's complaints and leave - it was getting late, anyway, and she had been invited to watch a Quidditch game in the morning.

Spinning around one last time, trying to spot a glimmer of gold in the crowd, Dee turned to leave with a faint sense of disappoinment when she didn't find what she was looking for. But then, tomorrow was another day.

Felix Kolbeck (@Winnie Harper)
Mentions Madhup Hexum (@Pericles Dralt)

Thread left.

♢ Date | 2 August, 2024 ♢
♢ Interacting With | Johannes Sauer^{@Astrea Soleil Neptune}♢
♢ Hex Code | #C08838 ♢

Rett actually flinched at Johannes' reply, physically recoiling a full step away from him. The frustration roiling off him was palpable, and Rett was the lit fuse provoking him. While his legs remained planted, he leaned forward just slightly to toss back the anger in this dredged up tennis match. Granted, he was the one that forced this to happen. “Firstly, a phone? I’m a pureblood I can’t have one of those. But proof? I don’t have any proof besides the pain I felt after that summer." His eyes flashed with the hurt of asking him mother every day if there had been any owls for him, and the pity in her eyes that grew as slowly as the summer waned on.

"Besides, the words that poured out of me onto the page are apparently gone forever. A vulnerability left stained in ink in my mind. I don’t know what proof you want me to provide besides this pathetic desperation that I've come to lay down at your feet. You think I'd come do this for fun?” He felt like his whole body was shaking, but he hoped that the spirit of a southern woman's chihuahua in a purse was not with him today, at least not outwardly.

Rett couldn't hide the hurt that took over his whole face thinking about the ball, about Rafa. If he was still with him, Rett wouldn't be dredging up this stupid shit. But even when they were together, he barely received attention from the Gryffindor. He felt like he was screaming at the sky for someone to want to want him. For Johannes, to want him. "You want to know why I was with someone at the ball? Hm? Why I looked so happy? I moved on, Johannes. Because I had to. Because I thought-" The boldness in his voice faltered as his voice latched in his throat.

A raw embarrassment and confession lodging there, waiting to be released yet shirking away from the light. He started again, slowly. Yanking every word out of his heart and through his throat to be presented to Johannes like the dumb lovesick boy he had been all those years ago. “Because I thought you didn’t want me. After all these years I bring it up because I wanted to know what had let me so unlovable after a brief summer day that had left me spiraling for weeks. What had I been missing? What piece of the puzzle was left behind?” He paused, gaze attempting to harden but failing spectacularly. “Six letters, was the answer. I wish you could’ve seen what was in them. Maybe you’d think differently about how I felt about you.” There was a deep defeat in his voice, feeling himself repeat the pain and longing.

This wasn’t the answer he wanted. He wanted Johannes to hate him, to never want anything to do with him because he was a bad kisser or smelled weird. To know that they could have been- something. He took a step closer once more, two steps forward to make up for the many missteps back. "You have no idea how badly I wanted you to do anything for me. I've tried to bury my feel- bury- I've tried." What the fuck was he saying at this point? The sharp-witted boy, someone who slotted perfectly into Horned Serpent, lost for words. Johannes was his worst nightmare, slowly unraveling every part of him that was calm and could handle anything about this. But he couldn't. Looking at Johannes, and really looking at him. He couldn't help the way he melted slightly, even now.

The confession that they could've been good together struck him like it was a physical attack on everything he was. His hand, reaching up to comfort Johannes, to hold his face and tell him... what? "We-" The want, the desire, dying on the tip of his tongue out of fear of a second rejection, this time it would be intentional and to his face and Rett would rather pass away on the spot then live with that. "Johannes..." But fuck it, what was there to lose at this point? Johannes' name upon his tongue a bittersweet harmony of could've been's and almost had's. For a day, he had him. For even just that one adequate summer day, they had been each other's. Hadn't they?

The hand that seemed to hover, suspended in time, came to rest on Johannes' chest. "Tell me we couldn't still be good, and I'll leave you alone forever. Tell me there isn't something still here between us that never died that day, and I will walk away from this without another word." Rett, closing the distance even more. Only an inch away from him. "Tell me you want nothing to do with me, that you hate me. And I'll leave for the last time." The last sentence whispered, a mix between a desperate plea, and a scream for Johannes to want Rett even after all this time.

Action || More Angst? More Angst!

threading as Johannes Sauer
speaking in english (!!) as specified

“Of everything, you focus on that? It was a hypothetical, for God’s sake.” Sneering, bitter with reflexive defensiveness, one could never accuse Johannes with simple acceptance. Wizards and their goddamn antiquation complicated everything— if they could have communicated like regular people, none of this would have happened. “But it would have been better than sending an owl over the fucking Atlantic! Wizarding governments have postal employees for a reason.” Who the hell let owls, of all possible birds, deliver postage over long distances? Though intelligent and trainable, they were also slow as hell. PETA would have a goddamn aneurysm at the mere idea of it. Yet as passionate as Johannes was about poking holes in wizarding logic, such judgement was digging himself deeper into the hole of blame. It was not the main issue, but it certainly was the lowest-hanging fruit to aim for.

The blatant hurt upon Everett's face mirrored the festering, knee-jerk betrayal burning through his civility, the briefest spark of empathy quickly filed away in favour of stubborn pride. “You think I take any joy from this either? Does it look like either of us wanted this to happen? If we're meant to be angry at anything, it's the fucking system.” Fittingly punkish, perhaps, but a truthful statement nonetheless. Young, foolish and over-friendly, he'd written often to a few of his closest Hounds at the time. It hadn't been as personal as familial pity, but their immediate scepticism and eventual vindication had the same effect. It was too good to be true, knowing his luck. Knowing Hogwarts' luck. His grandfather still didn't know how disappointing that first summer abroad had become. Outside of Durmstrang's familiar brutality, they couldn't have peer-pressured anything out of anyone.

In truth, Everett had only been one of several stellar almost-romances to string Johannes along. Yet there had always been something different about the American in his memories, something untouchably bittersweet. Sun-drenched and startlingly charming, both novelty and yearning had deified the other into less of a person and more of a long-awaited regret. For Rett to consider himself unlovable over someone like Johannes was unprecedented. He, unlucky in love, luck and life itself, had likely been cursed to drive away every person he'd ever held close. It was an uphill climb that he’d been struggling against since being thrown from the nest. Sharp-tongued and silver-wrought, the naive boy of Everett’s memories had long faded into nothing more than a weapon deployed. Between a tool and a means to an end, did claiming things like moving on count for anything worthwhile? Had it been less of a boon and more of a necessity, as if rebounding could do anything to mend the unresolved heartbreak lying in wait? A whole half-summer’s worth of holding out hope only for nothing to deliver (in more ways than one)… A whole several years' worth of affection turned resentment only for it to come to this. Who else could Johannes haunt if not Everett? Who else could the jagged shard of blame target?

Entirely insistent and apparently incapable of unperturbed rancour, Everett further closed the distance— so bold and brilliantly betrayed that Johannes’ protests seemed childish in response. It was less blameless to argue semantics with someone who wouldn't fight back. It was also less infuriating, but the sheer defeat in the other’s voice only exposed the ineffectiveness of their argumentation. Johannes had never been the best debater, nor the best advisor, yet even he could recognise the pyrrhic victory when it greeted him. A chill ran up his spine, so shockingly sudden that the dying breaths of obligatory denial seemed to drain from him in a rush of unexpected, ice-cold clarity. In its wake, Johannes was left only the most damnable of weaknesses. They had kept each other literally out of arm’s reach for so long that the mere threat of breaching that boundary unsteadied him.

He could feel the phantom warmth of undeserving mercy in Rett’s hand, lingering uncertainly in the air before dropping to rest upon his decorated lapels. It felt like a brand upon his chest, so distractingly unfamiliar yet mirror-like of their first meeting. Those summer afternoons felt like forever ago, yet being so close to each other was like witnessing the flickering end of an undying flame. Johannes could scarcely break eye contact, some stray bolt of personal betrayal striking true as Everett pled for some sign of change to justify their distance.

“Please… Don’t make me do this.” His tongue felt leaden with misplaced regret. It was as if the wild shores of conflict had finally dashed his resistance against the cliffside, so quickly splintered and yet existent nonetheless. “I never hated you. And against all odds, I still don’t. How could I? I…” Some part of him felt the lack of anger like a lost limb, unbalanced and wholly foreign yet forcibly accepted nonetheless. It was too little, too late to grieve over the loss of something so long ago. Yet the rest of him was more familiar in its resistance.

Still tangled in the artfully sewn finery of his own shirt, Johannes’s hand spasmed once in hesitation before shooting to grab Everett's like a lifeline an anchor. If he could command the point of contact, crawling still with searing distraction, maybe, just maybe, he could get his head on straight enough to fucking think.

“You can’t leave. I won’t have it— I don’t want it to happen, no matter how much you think I do.” He was fine being the jilted lover, the third wheel, even the anecdotal villain, but how could he stand for such terrible responsibility? His words stung like holy water, strangely harsh despite his sincerity and doubly personal for it. An accusation was the verbal equivalent of digging in his heels, desperately pulling at the yoke of understanding as if to wrestle back control. If either of them left now, there would be no second chances— no maybe’s or what-ifs in a too-possible lifetime of regret. “I wished for some sign of difference, back then. A glimpse of memory to ensure I hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. It was as if we'd tied an invisible string— a connection was there— and yet mere distance had snapped it. What was I meant to do but accept the silence as truth?” Dearly impassioned, near-dizzyingly so, he could not simply stand to erase his own experience in the terrible myth of one-sided affection. Everett deserved better than that if all other reasons fell through.

“But we aren’t the same people as we were all those years ago. We can’t just… How could we—” Johannes broke off sharply, grasping at straws to collect his scattering thoughts. The tips of his ears felt hot with shame, yet he vehemently refused to give into the humiliation of tearful weakness. The ringing blankness of withheld yearning merely taunted him in its absence. In direct comparison to Rett’s willful semi-eloquence, his hesitation felt completely inadequate. How dare his heart betray him? No longer could he feign nonchalance, not when he could practically hear the sinking stones of their would-be, could-have-never-been relationship.

“I don’t want you gone forever. And I want to say something stupid like…” (I love you, or maybe the idea of what you think me loving you is. I want to love you, if only to understand the affliction tearing us apart.) He drew up a blank, unable to take back his words and yet unwilling to reveal anything more than half-necessary. “I miss you.” In the end, all that he could admit was the basest of confessions, whispered only half-regretfully in the absence of kinder proclamations. “And maybe it's not that stupid because I truly do. That has to count for something. I miss what we could have been and I’m sorry I never read those goddamn letters. I would have done anything for you, had I known.” Still, the bitterness of loss coated his tongue, as if to only emphasize his most futile of excuses. “I just…” His attention skittered nervously over Everett’s unyielding stare, apparently unable to explain his reservations without laying his entire soul bare.

Johannes was wading in the chest-deep waters of impossibility, a self-made Tantalus in some cruel imitation of opportunity. He'd never had the steel nerves of Stribog's chosen nor the pure faith of his Kapitäne and their closest mutual friends— fear, for him, was merely another thing to acknowledge and fake tolerance to. It was more logical to recognise its merits, yet such prestigious traits like discretion or (dare he say) valour could not handle the delicacies of romanticism.

Secretly, mortifyingly frightened by the enormity of desire, his eyes shone almost fever-bright in the flickering candlelight. When he met Everett’s gaze once more, he felt no less than hunted by the other’s urgency. “Hope is the most dangerous delusion.” Dear god, they'd surely gone mad. If not with desperation, then with such indescribable near-belief that Johannes could not bear to deceive himself with.

Action: T_T;;

Mod Information

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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: @Greta Fransson, @Felix Kolbeck, @Madhup Hexum

Wandmaker Information

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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."

Outfit Reference

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