Summer Duels: Day 1 Spectator

Valentin came specifically to cheer for Nikolai Vol’ka, the duelist hailing from their beloved Durmstrang Institute [Match 2]. In the glorious tradition pioneered by Nikolai a week earlier, Valentin came dressed as a dragon – armed with pepper imps and ready to breathe fire when needed. For today’s match, Valentin resembled an ice-themed Swedish Short-snout, a silvery-blue dragon native to snowy mountainous backcountry. This was a different species of dragon than associated with the legends of Valentin’s homeland in Tatarstan, but the captain figured this would only be the first of many championship matches of Nikolai’s that he would spectate. He planned for this costume to be only one in a series of different dragon species represented during Kol’ka’s future matches. After all, Durmstrang’s quidditch team itself had a tradition of representing different dragons at different stages of their progression as well – starting with Team Hydra, then Team Yilbegan, and finally Team Sárkány…

A circular silver brooch depicting an amethyst-eyed dragon was pinned to Val’s chest in a mirror image of the one on Nikolai’s, similarly bearing a snowdrop flower securely in its clutches. The seeker’s outfit for today included icicle-tipped wings, short horns, long fingernail “claws,” and an attached tail. Val’s human “snout” was already naturally quite small, sometimes described as a “bunny nose.” Short-snout or not, Valentin could still holler like a beast. He’d learned to naturally project his voice through years of having to shout across the quidditch pitch and through all manner of chaos during other adventures. Now was not a moment to be shy about making noise, either.

“LET’S GO KOL’KA! SHOW THEM DURMSTRANG’S POWER!!”

Moments later, Nikolai’s knockback jinx landed true while it seemed the opponents were more interested in hitting themselves. Reuben’s green sparks blew up in his own face while Ariam seemed to be so bad at aiming that Reuben had to get out of the way of their errant spell. Chuckling softly, Valentin had to wonder if it wasn’t Durmstrang’s reputation making their opponents so nervous as to fail such basic spells. Of course, Nikolai's was a multi-school team, but Val only had eyes for Vol'ka and Durmstrang at this point. The other players were simply chess pieces in emotionless strategy at the moment. Clapping and smiling at Nikolai with adoration, Valentin beamed as brightly as a lighthouse. Still, it had only been the first round and the opposition hadn’t seen even a fraction of Nikolai’s full power.

Valentin had chosen an unpopulated section of benches where he wouldn’t smack someone with his wings while cheering and where he could belt out cheers as loudly as desired without deafening someone nearby. While the players regained their positions, Val began to chant rhythmically:

“VOL’KA! VOL’KA! VOL’KA!”

Then, as it seemed the action was about to begin again, Valentin held his breath. His beloved blue-eyed duelist levelled his wand at a target and fired… striking a new target again squarely with a second-level incendiary spell. It seemed Nikolai was not just Val’s favorite, either, as he continued to be the favored target of several opponents. Yet, the Durm had just as much grace as in his dance at the Mistletoe ball, gracefully evading two more attacks.

“KOL’KA, YOU ARE THE VERY WIND OF STRIBOG!” Clapping with a driving musical tempo, Valentin could have laughed for joy. Nikolai’s success was his own, just as was every one of his troubles. Every time the younger dragon looked his way, the Short-Snout would begin jumping up and down, which magically cued his attached wings to beat.

“You’re unstoppable! Bring us home sweet victory!”

Watching Nikolai’s eyes flare with determination, Valentin took in every detail of the other’s demeanor, memorizing even the most subtle of cues. His captain’s mind was recording this entire sequence, and he would surely relive the duel in his mind over the course of his dreams tonight as his subconscious continued to pick apart strategy and the physical language of movement.

The teams recovered their positions and, as they re-entered their starting poses, Valentin’s left hand closed into a fist over its curved scar, which he then pressed against his flower-bearing brooch as if it would communicate pure love to the mind of he who wore its counterpart. Nikolai’s performance on the piste was utterly captivating. Valentin barely dared to blink, lest he miss a split-second of any moment.

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

Duelling was not usually a sport that struck Hans’ fancy, lacking in the high speed and altitude thrills of the two broom sports. Especially among the junior duellists, still inept with an and limited arsenal of spells, the match can grow to become tedious. Hopefully, though, after months of practice casting uncalled for spells on him first thing in the morning, Nikolai would deliver a show-stopping performance.

Choosing a front row seat with the most up close and personal view (he did not come to fight for proper visibility of the action, after all), Hans set down his bag and turned to find a unexpected sight behind him. He shot a half-amused, half-approving grin at Valentin, the Seeker now metamorphosed into a Swedish Short Snout…. It seemed like Nikolai’s costume show had sprouted a tradition of sorts. Gazing back to peer over the field with a chuckle, he spotted a dash of blond among the readying athletes. 'Nikolai!' he called, leaning over the railing and waving to get the little dragon's attention. 'Get out there and show them who's boss.' As the match was about to began, Hans gave a final smirk, waggish at Nikolai's promise of delivering hell. He figured the Uagadou-Castelobruxo might as well start expecting it.

And hell they had been given. Suppressing a smile as his schoolmates pointed and jostled - Hans still had some basic sportsmanship, thank you very much, the brunet had to admit his own bemused humour. While Nikolai’s Flipendo sent his opponent tumbling back with a resounding thud (and he had expected nothing less from his dorm mate), Rueben's meagre attempts at an attack was not as successful. His burst of green sparks, initially aimed at the blond Durmstrangnian, had engulfed Garcia himself instead. Adding salt to injury for the enemy team, Ariam, hopefully due to miscalculation rather than betrayal (though that would surely spice up the match), turned on his team mate. The contrast in skill was clear as day and so was the victor. 'давай¹!' he cheered into the crowd.

The fog from Fumos had set in, smothering the match in a shroud of haze as Hans attempted to swat away what had got into his face (outcome? Utter futility). He registered little of the action behind the smokescreen, with the duellist almost all obscured one after the other. During the fifth round of trading attacks however, the duel came to a stop as mediwizards saw Zyair's unconscious body en route to the medical tent. However, Ona'je certainly knew how to go out in style. Unapologetically dropping into a fit of laughter as Nikolai broke into a ludicrous samba - which to his credit, he seemed to have been enjoying, Hans' shout of "You keep on dancing, Eisprinz!" was carried away by a stray wind. As Nikolai ceased his dance though, so did the extents of Ariam's stamina. Glee lit up his face and excitement seized his heart as Hans could imagine the cheers of the audience moments later.

As Nikolai missed his target, Hans showed no verbal response, wary not to further the unwarranted pressure of an expectant crowd. Distress was evident in his stance, but in such moments when Vol'ka had lost faith in himself to pull through, Hans' trust in him was unwavering. Whenever Nikolai was to look towards Hans' direction, he would be greeted with a devil-may-care smile that placed all his confidence in the boy. All he hoped for was for Nikolai's enjoyment, so whatever had caused Nikolai's performance to pivot, it did not matter and he could not have cared any less. Hans had learnt to let go of his vexingly perfectionistic standards after the broom race's near-victory, but now that they had reached the seventh round of the duel and with the final stage in sight, triumph had certainly been secured. Hans would shine on through till they reached the very end.

@Matthew Campbell as Nikolai Vol'ka

1: Come on

It was even better when Hans showed up to accompany Val in cheering for Nikolai. Yet, after a warm and brotherly greeting, it would be clear that Val was totally absorbed by Nikolai’s fight.

As the match wore on with the passing of smoky clouds, Valentin sensed a shift in Nikolai’s mood. The exuberance from earlier had not only dimmed, but a dark aura sank into the younger dragon’s countenance. Rather than passively observing from the stands, the seeker would have liked to leap right onto the piste to fight alongside Nikolai. Of course, he couldn’t. It would cheapen the fight for Nikolai. As for it being against the rules… Val couldn’t have cared less. This process was part of Vol’ka’s inner sculpting, which was paramount compared to the requirements imposed by a game’s structure. Remaining quiet as he observed and tried to understand the transformation overtaking his dearest one, Valentin’s eyes wouldn’t blink or stray from Nikolai’s shadowy form gracing the fog. Then, the tenor emerged from Val’s throat when it finally felt right. While calm in tone, the words would come to Nikolai clearly regardless of the chaos of combat.

“I’m with you, Kol’ka. I always will be. You will wear them down like the sea. Let’s finish this.”

Val’s vocal cue would give one more indication of where Nikolai was in space, shrouded in darkness. With the exchange of spells the Vol’ka would be enchanted to dance, and enchanted to laugh with the invisible hands of a tickling spell, and yet through the course of time the boy’s spells never lost their ferocity.

“It’s only a little longer, my dragonheart. Fight on with focus!”

One by one, the dominoes of the opposing team fell. The calm of the Frost Captain’s presence would then, when the last challenger fell, erupt in a cheering roar.

“KOL’KAAAA!” Popping a pair of pepper imps into his mouth that had been enchanted to change color, ice-blue flames shot from Val’s mouth and nostrils as he pumped his fists in the air. “You are Durmstrang!” Leaning forward over the rail as to not catch his neighbors on fire during his revelry, Valentin continued to breathe blue fire in arcs of celebration. Then, when the imps had run their course and the match was thoroughly concluded, Val jumped the rail and dashed up onto the piste to throw his arms around Nilolai.

“Kol’ka, my dearest Kol’ka, I am so proud of you.” Squeezing the boy tightly, Valentin’s love poured out without hesitation or barriers. Sinking his hand into the back of the other’s hair, the seeker kissed Nikolai’s forehead and then squeezed him closer again.

“You did it. This is the dawn of your duelling future. Your heart is so strong.”

Burying his eyes in the boy’s pale hair, Valentin sighed in relief. When they had a moment he would offer to heal Nikolai’s minor wounds, but for now he would just stand there holding him in the middle of the piste for as long as Vol’ka wanted.