Transgenerational Traditions PV Aulis Vorozheykin

AULIS VOROZHEYKIN.
KOLDOVSTORETZ. DIRECTOR OF STUDIES.
Russian. | English.
Spoken. | Thought.

Since becoming Koldovstoretz's head earlier in the semester, Aulis Vorozheykin felt as though he had spent more time visiting other schools than staying put at his own. First there had been the short, and admittedly disastrous, trip to Beauxbatons in February, and now he was expected to chaperone a few weeks of a handful of his students in a Scottish winter that paled in comparison to a Russian one... all for a dance, of sorts. When he had simply been the Vedmak of Divination, they'd never made him come on these biannual trips. Now that he was the Director, would he be expected to attend... all of them? The horror.

Some things about Hogwarts were okay, though. Of course, Aulis had to put up with the complaints from students about the size of the castle -- some frustrated that their own school wasn't quite as "grand", while others annoyed at the moving staircases or maze of a map that made it impossible to get anywhere or remember where one was -- and the lack of good food, and of course there had been some inter-school rivalry squabbles to break up, but it wasn't all bad. The cabins out on the grounds in which Aulis and his students had been staying, along with the rest of the international visitors, were quite nice and reminded the Koldovstoretz head vaguely of the cabins and yurts from back home; additionally, there was a certain freedom about being able to walk around the palace without one's head all wrapped up in furs.

As such, even though the Director quite enjoyed the outdoors, he spent a fair amount of time in the castle these first twenty-four hours since arrival. He set up shop in the Divination Tower, where the young, pretty, brunette version of what Aulis had once been prior to his promotion had been more than happy to temporarily share her office space; there had been some tarot-reading in the open, airy towertop room, which he had to admit he enjoyed, though there was something he missed about the quiet, stoic comfort of his underground haven back at Lake Bear. However, as was oft to occur at Koldovstoretz, time slipped through the sands of the hourglass faster than Aulis would have expected, and before he knew it, midnight had nearly arrived and he had yet to even eat an evening meal. However, let it be known that the Koldovstoretz director always came prepared; a quick rifle through one of his handy, and always carried, dossiers gave him the location of the school's kitchens, and Aulis slipped away from the Divination tower in search of them.

Upon arrival, he quite unceremoniously and feeling a rather overpowering sense of embarrassment tickled the pear, half-expecting it to not work; however, the painting swung open, allowing him entry. He had not been in a kitchen in ages, not since... before going to Koldovstoretz, or at least since visiting his family on the rare time he was home from boarding, and even then the majority of the housework had been done by his father. When one's pureblooded mother grows up catered to by house-elves, she tends to not know how to operate a stove, a trait that she had passed on to her only son.

Despite the late hour, the area was not as abandoned as he would have hoped or expected; the ovens were lit, warmth cascading through the cavernous room, and a figure stood, tall and broad and tattooed, by one of the counters with sleeves rolled to his elbows. Squinting against the backlighting, Aulis fought to make out his face, which was weathered and bearded, framed in pale blonde curls. Unfamiliar to the director. Whether the stranger's strangeness was a good thing or a bad thing was yet to be determined.

Still, Aulis put on a brave face and his most charming smile. "Ah, I was thinking that I might meet you here," he waxed, clambering through the portrait as gracefully as he could muster and then waltzing into the room with a grandiose air of mystique and glamour. With an almost dance-like wave of his arm, he continued, "Was it the warmth of the fire or the warmth of your presence that I detected? It makes no difference, never the mind." For a moment, he considered delving into the mind of the man in front of him, reading between the folds of his brain as easily as if they were pages of a tome from the library, but he remembered almost instantly that if he were caught here he would face more severe consequences than he would have at home; shaking his head to clear it of thoughtless schemes, instead the man focused his keen gaze on what he could simply see in front of him. Marked-up forearms, calloused hands, tanned skin, gentle wrinkles... the man worked with his hands, likely out-of-doors. A groundskeeper, perhaps, or a professor of Herbology, or simply somebody who enjoys a good trek. Either way, not enough information to go on... yet. Best to take the safe route for now, Aulya.

Gliding over to the countertop atop which the man had just been about to work, Aulis placed his own very non-calloused, long-fingered hands on its edge and elegantly pushed his lithe body on top of the counter to sit, his legs dangling over its edge. Leaning back on his palms, he again offered the man a brilliant grin. "So, my good friend," he trilled in a lilting tone, without even bothering to introduce himself or ask the stranger's name, "what are we to have for the ужин*?"
*ужин = uzhin, dinner/evening meal

Date: March 30th 2025, A little after midnight

A single eyebrow raised in question at the man's strange demeanour. Why he expected Lawrence to be here was as puzzling as the outfit he draped himself in at such a late hour; Maynard being a man who would take a t-shirt over a collar any day of the week. Still, it was no secret that despite his third eyes predilection, Lawrence much preferred to live in the present than in the 'sight' as it was so called. Burying his confusion he cracked out his back revealing a deep array of back muscles through his vintage tee and rising up smiled as warmly as the flame illuminating him from behind. "I'll take it I'm baking for the both of us then mate." Words all in good humour but with the slightest tease pulled from the man's audacity.

Despite his own families roots Lawrence was not born with silver on his tongue and gold in his pockets. What was once deemed as pure, and by technicality still functioned, had adopted new foundations from being wizard born. There was far little more important to Tenūsa's educational principles than respect, which was decidedly earned not freely given. Some dukun took the ideology to the extreme but Denbeigh's approach was always backed with more vision than most. Respect could certainly be earned in his view, that much was true, but such words were never meant to be a cause to garner disrespect for those that didn't. Rather, Denbeigh believed that respect should be the general state of being for all life; one could earn more or lessen but the baseline should always start on solid footing.

The remembrance of a man he had turned away from always came with mixed emotion, but tonight in such a positive glow of his training and mentor, Lawrence had no need for melancholy. Instead he would tune his focus to the pristine figure before him. From the lower view, in the dim light of the kitchens he hadn't noticed at first just how white Aulis' hair was; now on display across the table it was clear as day. Whether by choice or by fate Lawrence was unclear, of course he could attempt to see such an answer but words sufficed just as well and often with far more clarity. "So what can I call you?" he asked genially before stretching out his prophecy inscribed hands, "Lawrence Maynard from Tenūsa." The title rested on his lips for a mere moment, but the role was not much of a showboat for the man who never desired it.

If the clean-cut figure across from him returned his introduction he would no doubt disappointedly realise that while Lawrence might have slightly recognised the name, it was but a distant fragment within his mind's eye. Instead as Lawrence drew back his hand he would reach for the mixing bowl and gathering up some crumbled yeast, adding it with milk that had been heated to a lukewarm temperature. Taking a wooden spoon he made use of his built frame to really put some elbow grease into the process until the yeast was gone and it was time for the sugar, salt, cardamom, and egg. The process was nothing short of the catharsis he required but three key ingredient was missing, chaos, noise and of course love.

Baking with his family was a messy affair. No surface could be left unscathed by the destructive clash of the Maynard personalities and merlin forbid if Willow's wrath ever be summoned. Yet in that chaos and havoc were some of the most important memories of Lawrence's life; The ones that reminded him of where he came from. Therefore if the gentleman before him wished to partake in the delight of Finnish heaven, he would have to get his hands dirty in the process. Turning to him with a impish smile he said, "This is an old family recipe, something passed down from my grandmother. The original name is korvapuusti but we mostly just call them cinnamon rolls." Yeast now broken down he pointed towards the ingredients so pointing towards them he handed the mixing bowl across the table, "No one gets out of helping in a Maynard kitchen I'm afraid mate, so get those in and then knead away while I get started on the filling. Unless such work is too manual for those manicured hands."

While all in jest and good natured Lawrence wondered how the composed gentleman would react to his goading. Lawrence's honed intuition painted the man as one who didn't like to back down from a challenge, but what lay behind the perfectly curated figure could be something else entirely.

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