Closed Petals For Pain PV Senya

Semyon. That was his name, the name of a ghostly child, one that occasionally was swallowed up by the world, trapped behind a veil of nature, a net of shrubbery, flowers and foliage enveloping him in an embrace he welcomed. The flowers were kind to him, allowing him to rest within them in solitude as their thin stem and opened petals cast gentle shadows across his face, skin and clothes. Green beautiful leather boots, a piece of beautiful craftsmanship were paired with a coat blessed by the stars themselves in a muted, colorful display. His pants looked beautifully bland yet would blend nicely with the greenery in a casual sap green, patched in parts with color matched leather strips around the knees. Leathery, fingerless gloves were nestled between a patch of daisies and violets as his gaze with half lidded eyes was directed towards the sky. His breath shallow, his chest barely moving as air filled his lungs only to escape silently through his slightly parted lips.

Eyes unblinking regarded the sky as clouds moved across the horizon, the fluffy white whisps a stark contrast behind the otherwise blue colors that met his eye. From the corner of his eyes the flowers were with him and he felt content. He lay invisible to the few passing students for long enough to feel his energy return, almost as if the calm and quiet fueled him more than sleep in the tent could, as proven by some darker shadows beneath his eyes. He was slightly aware of the worry this common occurrence caused Valentin, but the Russian boy had no explanation for the captain and no words to speak. There was nothing the Keeper in question would consider worrisome regardless of his body's betrayal of such notions.

Semyon had been able to lay resting for quite some time, undisturbed, but many things were not meant for eternity and so he listened to the small rustles and the approach of a person, before they spoke up and directly addressed the young ghost as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, almost as if he lacked spine or normal physicality, there was something eerie in the way Semyon rose into a sitting position, almost as if he himself was helpless in what to do with a physical body. But anyone who knew of the second string keeper knew that he was quite well adapted to using his limbs. The ghost boy had more than one ace up his sleeves, unassuming as he seemed. His curls fell into his hair, leaves and petals sticking from them after laying in the meadow of flowers for so long, dirt dusted his clothes and knuckles as he folded them above his lap before his gaze bore through the duelist ahead of him.

He knew the boy based on association with Valentin, they spent a lot of time together. 'Nikolai' was his name, though he has heard the captain address him by the diminutive 'Kol'ka' and thus the Russian boy was vaguely familiar with the shape before him. So with his gaze on the blonde he raised two fingers, though he would not have used the word 'disturbed' if he had the mind to speak. Instead he began to tap his pointer finger onto the back of his right hand. Tap, slide, slide, tap. Tap, slide, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, slide, slide. Tap. Slide.* His hands began to rest atop his lap once more, his gaze had not moved away from the other boy either.

Interacting as Nikolai Volka with Senya Reznikov @Oonagh Brown

The small thing was as much a part of the scenery as the flowers themselves. Laden in his curls were twigs, leaves and petals that softened the eerie stare he bore down upon his fellow Russian. While many would look at Senya and find themselves concerned or disturbed Nikolai was only curious and found the little ghost to be rather sweet in his unorthodox ways. Using his hands to communicate he instigated his response first numerically and despite the knowledge he had disrupted the child his demeanour did not seem untoward Nikolai for the intrusion.

Then displaying a knack for morse code Nikolai intently watched as the ghost tapped and slid across the back of his right hand furthering their introduction in a way comfortable for himself. Much akin to the ghost Senya seemed to have very little control over the physical world and his body reflected as such but in his arms and hands he displayed a mastery. Every movement was precise, direct, and held a strength the rest of his body failed to maintain. Truly he was a marvel to watch, and Nikolai’s eyes gazed upon him with warm fascination.

Recalling many nights passing messages through the walls to his brothers he was quite familiar with the old form of communication. Not only did they learn to communicate the basic alphabet but there were many knocks that long echo in the walls of the Volkov estate. Knocks that told a story of the danger of the house and warnings shared between brothers to keep them safe. Returning the greeting to Senya he moved closer to the boy careful to watch for any signs of discomfort in his approach. If the boy allowed Nikolai would sit down crossed legged in front of him and begin to speak occasionally mirroring the spoken words with morse code to indicate his comprehension.

“Not a fan of the spoken word? Ghosts never did speak much in the stories. Not to worry I too value silence and the unspoken forms of language. Perhaps you would be interested in helping me with assisting our brothers and sisters of Durmstrang? I’m in need of a flower expert and I think I may have been lucky enough to come across one here.” The smile that Nikolai used was full of compassion and warmth yet not too large or overwhelming as he wanted Senya to feel comfortable. Nikolai didn’t have much experience in nonverbal conversations with others but having isolated himself for many years he was well acquainted with doing so by himself and hoped to draw from that quiet solitude to make Senya felt seen.

Perhaps the young ghost wished to remain the way he was untethered to anyone in the world but knowing the lonely existence he himself had faced it felt right to at least offer the option. Drawing a journal and pencil from his leather satchel Nikolai laid them down in front of Senya in the grass intrigued to know where the day would lead them. Then taking his hand above the journal he communicated, (Slide.) (Slide, tap, slide, slide.) / (Tap, slide, slide tap.) (Slide, slide, slide.) (Slide, slide.) (Slide, slide, slide.) (Slide, slide, tap, tap.) (Tap, tap, tap, tap.) (Tap.) (Tap, tap, tap.) (Tap, tap, tap, tap.) (Tap, slide, slide, slide, slide, tap.) / (Slide, slide.) (Slide, tap.) (Tap.) (Tap, tap, slide, slide, tap, tap)

Not sure how to translate russian characters so did it based on the sound so it probably doesnt actually work so here's the translation:
ты поможешь мне? (Ty pomozhesh’ mne?) Will you help me?

The ghostly boy's face was distant and yet ever present as he continued to acknowledge the Russian boy's presence besides his. Figuring not much would change, his peace already disturbed and he would not mind it. Creatures walked the earth all the time so in a way there was a sense of peace in being disturbed, the knowledge that there were other beings, so many, around him. Living, breathing but not just.

He half listened to the spoken works, attention zoning in and out and yet not a word went amiss as he placed his unsettling gaze upon the other one. Green and brown, an odd display of nature's favored colors. It was almost as if earth itself spoke through him and in a way it would, as he lived as part of nature, in its shadows as the flowers became his words and the wind an embrace without contact. It was when the other picked up his notebook and offered it as a token to Semyon, asking him in morse, that the little ghost moved next.

He picked the pen and marked down into the journal ahead of him, gaze kept on Nikolai 'да' yes. He opened his own satchel and procured a little notebook that was bound together tightly by twine, tiny hints of stems and petal peaking out between the page and just at first glance the booklet looked worn, dirt splotching the once white pages and leathery cover showing how many times this book must have been opened and closed within nature. He took the pen once more and marked a singular question mark onto the page before directing his gaze back to the boy.

Interacting as Nikolai Volka with Senya Reznikov @Oonagh Brown

Nikolai couldn't tell what exactly it was about the little lad that endeared him so much to his ghostly self but he watched with eager anticipation as he drew a most beautifully crafted journal from his satchel. Whatever the notebook was used for paled in comparison to the undoubtable importance it held in its young owners dirtied hands. Having already marked in the boys own notebook that he was willing to help Nikolai wondered what he was doing but waited patiently until presented with a simple symbol but one that spoke volumes.

Shooting him a gentle smile he had a playful quality to his voice that invited warmth in its tones, "Well my little ghost I'm glad you asked, it seems that some of our brothers and sisters of Durmstrang had a hard time last night and I was hoping that we could pick out a flower for each of them that represent their unique personalities. We cannot undo the events of yesterday but we can help bring them some joy this morning. Thus you can see why I am in need of an expert!" Waiting to see how the odd little creature would react he stood slowly to not alarm him but enough to take in the sight of the floral meadows around them.

The field before him stretched out in prismatic waves wielding every colour of artistry in its mesmerising display of nature's majesty. The kind early morning summer sun warmed his face and his spirit filling him with a notion that he was on the right path. Head bowing back to take in the sight of the younger boy he let his hand reach out ever so slightly inviting him to join or hold or whatever the boy felt comfortable. Eyes illuminated with the glow of the sun highlighting the crisp light blue he smirked and said "Shall we?"

Semyon's gaze kept steady on the other boy's face without making true eye contact; looking through the other's face instead. He was listening to the words as the other boy began to talk of his plan, giving some very slight reactions such as a minimal nod of his head in-between sentences. Just to ensure he appeared to be listening, which he was. However he had learned that some people felt reassured if one gave notion of the fact that he was paying attention. People were difficult like that sometimes.

He knew what the other boy was referring to, their half victory once their celebration has been cut short by the referee. The victory had been within their grasp and then Durmstrang was forced to settle for a draw. An interesting event that would surely be stuck with his memory. His hand moved and gave the other boy a thumbs up, enjoying the challenge of finding the Durmstrang people some flowers. He flipped through his notebook until he happened upon a purple iris that had been lightly pressed by the pages but had not yet lost its floral fragrance with light musky undertones.

Semyon leaned forward and pressed the flower gently against Nikolai's chest, above his heart, taking up eye contact for this brief moment, though he did not hold it for long before his gaze focus scattered. All the while he was ensuring not to break off any of the blossoms drying petals. He tucked at Nikolai's hand if he were to allow it, to replace the hand above the boy's chest with one of the boy's own, so that he could withdraw his hand.

He remained staring at the boy's hand now, waiting for him to discover this little gift, which would mark the first flower assigned to the team that had suffered defeat without a loss.