Closed What is in Your Heart? PV Romeo Marchonné

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I was quite exhausted by now with the amount of letters I had gotten from several sources. Many of the recent ones in the past few days were requests to be interviewed by some small outlet or another, others were from the fan clubs, and yet others were simply riffraff. The one that I had kept with me closest, though, was the one that I had not uttered a word about to any others even despite the fact that the seeming threat appeared to have been satiated by my self-removal from the first string in favor of the second. This summer, it seemed, had been the summer of rollercoaster-like experiences both high and low. Threats, drama, Quidditch, revelations... these past months had been full of them all.

But it was the flurry of letters I had gotten in short sequence quoting bits of poetry with the obviously encoded word (as I had noted upon the third letter indicative of a consistent pattern) in each that had caused me to slightly tighten my jaw and bury them all aside until the entire sentence was finished. It was a simple question, ultimately, one that had a very simple answer. I had wondered who had sent these to me, lacking in name or address or notable watermark to indicate a company, affiliation, newspaper outlet, or particular individual as they had been. Without such notations, it was impossible to try to send back an owl with the intent to track it--at least not without formidable effort put into the process--even if I had wanted to send a letter back with any notable response.

So when the last, and the most formal letter, had come for me so close to the end of the Summer camp when things were beginning to wind down and pack up in preparation for transport back to every respective school I had fixed it with a somewhat skeptical look. "Yami". It was a name familiar to me--Ginyami Midorimori--with whom I had shared somewhat of a sketchy series of experiences with. The experiences I had had to him were both extensive and yet strangely minimal, and yet he never failed to be somewhat of a presence in the peripheral at most times. Unshakable and yet near undetectable unless desired to be noted. The handwriting of the series of letters had matched up. It was quite obvious--as it had been with the fact that there had been a pattern to the letters to begin with--that he had been the one who had written them.

I had rolled my eyes at the message's attempt to goad me into the rendezvous based on pride of self-confidence alone. But that being said, I was never really opposed to an at least stimulating conversation between myself and someone who was worth speaking to. I may not have liked Ginyami, but I could not deny that he was clever (almost oilily so), and definitely worthwhile to speak to when such moments presented themselves. Besides, it was at least a polite request. Far be it from me to refuse an at least polite request.

When the time came, after the schools were beginning to wrap up their dinners, I made my way to the outskirts of the camp's borders where the snow melted like the coming of spring. Here behind the stadium, I did find the Mahoutokoro student. With the thick red Durmstrang cloak about my shoulders that was now very warm for the slight raising of the temperature compared to the rest of the frosty winterland that was behind me, I fixed the Asian boy with a narrow look of my own that was suspicious even if relaxed regard. A few paces away, I stopped and crossed my arms lightly, taking in his words with quiet appraisal.

"Ginyami." Came the cool response. In reply to his further words, I only shrugged and replied in turn with a very blunt and straightforward manner. "I had nothing better to do." True enough. "Care to explain to me what such need for coded poetry and a need to talk in an arrangement like this is all about?"

Inventory:
Medical Notebook, True Love's Locket

Banner by Hanako Tone

Roleplaying as Ginyami Midorimori from Mahoutokoro
"English | Japanese"

"Poetry?" the narrow-eyed teenager repeated, incredulity pitching his voice as he chuckled. He had been carrying around and reading a small book on magical plants which he promptly closed and clasped behind his back in order to give Romeo his full attention.

"That wasn't poetry, my dear Romeo-san. That was a bid for your attention amongst the multitude of junk letters and fan mail you are undoubtedly inundated with on a daily basis." He shook his head in what seemed to be dismay. Perhaps even disapproval. It was difficult to say, but he didn't expect Romeo to care enough to bother figuring it out.

"Furthermore, as poetic as those lines were, they weren't derived from poems, but rather a play. One I thought you, of all people, would be quite familiar with by now whether intentionally or not." He paused, as if something had only just occurred to him. "...Or was I mistaken?"

Hands still clasped on the book behind his back, he slowly and calmly approached the Durmstrang student, his silken, navy robes billowing out behind him as he walked. As he drew closer to his peer, his kitsune eyes appraised Romeo's face critically, noting the differences in his features since last he laid eyes on him about a year ago.

He had already been taller than Ginyami before, but he had grown quite a bit more in the time since, it seemed. He watched for any changes in micro-expressions before and during the time he chose to speak again.

"You seem tired. Have you had a great deal of trouble, lately?" His brow furrowed slightly, as if with real concern. "...Perhaps something I can lend my assistance with?"

@Piérre Marchonné as Durmstrang inpc, Romeo Marchonné

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"Romeo and Juliet, yes I'm well acquainted. My fingers tightened slightly on my arms. In fact, it hadn't been difficult to pick out the letters from the others, solely because I had recognized even the first of the letters as being from the Shakespearian work. "The words of a poetic play were wildly different in brevity and message from the rest." Figuring that it had been a puzzle was easy, considering that I did open all my mail and at least tried to reply to most with a kind word or two.

The closing in of the Mahoutokoro student upon me was met with the still but even stare of my eyes into his. I was still looking down at him, but the difference in altitude between us had obviously increased quite a bit. I was displeased, of course, by the idea that I had been toted here to be made a mockery of or to be teased in any respect--by Ginyami of all people--but nicety was well within my nature. Distrust, mostly, was what lay seated in the forward position of my mind. What was the purpose of this?

It didn't help that his silken movements evoked negative memories of another and more... unsavory type that I evidently had much more in common with than I would have liked to have. The same deliverer of the other threat, naturally.

I hated the faux impression of concern. "Nothing that I couldn't handle." True enough besides the slug creatures, the threat from Gitano, and the general stressors of summer turning into an academic fall much sooner than I would have liked. At this point, I was always tired. It was a nature of mine at this point. "The Quidditch match was what I had been focusing most of my efforts towards. Now that it's done, I can start recovery and getting ready for next year's." Ginyami was a keeper for his own team now, wasn't he. "I saw that you won your own game as well. Congratulations." There was no significant emotion behind my words, but a win was a win. Mahoutokoro had obviously come with the intention to win this year.

"But I'm sure you didn't call me here with the use of such a play simply because you were worried about my stressors." I raised my own brow as if waiting for a confirmation of my suspicions. "I've a mind of what this is all about, but I'd like to hear it from the horse's mouth first."

He had been the one who had called me here, after all--not the other way around.

Inventory:
Medical Notebook, True Love's Locket