Friendship H One Degree of Separation PV Marshal

Friendship. What a novel concept. Entirely foreign to one Gryffindor upperclassman who hadn’t graced a longstanding relationship with his presence since the third year. Well, there was Nicholas McCowan, that cheeky bloke; but he was more of a persistent nuisance than a friend. Always had to prove he was better, innit? What a shame he always came up short…
Beyond the recurring bother of McCowan, however, there were truly few influences with enough consistency in his life to garner the title of anything deeper than ‘acquaintance.’

Two such influences did, however, come to mind, and both happened to occupy his home for the brief stay at Koldovstoretz, hence his presence in a friendship-themed yurt. Frankly, he found the theme to be a bit childish, as though he were back in preschool, being forced by teachers into a circle and commanded to socialize. Then again, perhaps that was precisely what a solitary recluse such as him required; a good kick in the pants toward the general direction of people. He’d liked those once. Could he not do it again?

As for one of the two people he’d associated with prior to this excursion, perhaps a more apt theme would have been “intriguing relationships initialized by deadly explosion.” In all fairness, the incident had been largely his own fault due to lack of distance from known blasting grounds, but the fact remained that Dealla Prince had blown him up. And now they were yurt-mates!
Barring excessive provocation on his part, the sixth year wasn’t particularly concerned about the episode repeating itself. Once he’d regained his faculties and realized he wasn’t dead (a pity), the girl had been sufficiently fussy over his broken form, ensuring signs of life and even going so far as to heal what she could of his injuries. On top of it all, she’d been a fair conversationalist, so he’d opted to forgive. He’d endured worse than direct assaults anyhow, and at least it hadn't involved a train.

The second person with whom he’d interacted presented a much more complex conundrum than personal combustion (Ha, it’s funny because she caught on fire too). Without a doubt, the redhead had consumed significantly more of his time than any other member of the yurt, and potentially any student at Hogwarts. He’d known her since the first year — knew her better than anyone besides his parents — and yet he hadn’t a clue how to define Evelynn Decipio.
They’d been all but joined at the hip once, then they’d been next to nothing, and then something resembling enemies — he would never forget the sensation of falling bald at the behest of her wand. Finally, he had saved her life on multiple occasions, they had reconnected somewhat, and now? Now she was the contact that granted him access to this yurt of proverbial friendship.

Regardless of what the lioness was to him, Marshal had every intention of witnessing her figure skating performance. But if he was about to stand in this blasted cold for an undetermined amount of time, then he needed another layer. Or three.
Bustling into the yurt with an exasperated huff, the young man rubbed his gloved hands together, basking in the unnatural warmth of the space. Already somewhat heavily clad in coat, scarf and beanie, Marshal shook his head in disbelief. He’d known vaguely of Russia and its frigid climates prior to the trip, yet had remained unprepared to become a human popsicle. Having always entertained a particular disdain for the cold, he had poorly selected which foreign school to grace with a visit, and now longed for the tropical vistas of Tenusa.

Several seconds passed before the Gryffindor’s eyes adjusted from the whitewashed landscape outside to the decidedly more muted tone within the yurt. He marveled at just how dramatic the shift was. He may as well have stepped from day to night for the sudden drop in light level. Save for the ripples of sunlight which had shuddered across the floor as he entered, one could scarcely surmise the time of day.

Gaze traveling toward his personal trunk, set to one side near the wall, where he knew numerous layers of clothing awaited him, Marshal noted one other presence in the space.
One of those many faces he’d seen throughout his six years at Hogwarts, yet never happened to engage beyond a brief glance in the hallway, Aly Salinger neither benefited, nor suffered from any prior opinion in his mind. He kept up with school sports enough to place her as captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team, though any other merits or accolades were lost on him.
He offered the girl a brief nod as he crossed the room, unwilling to interrupt the rather agitated search that seemed to be taking place. If she’d lost something of hers, he considered it rather unlikely that he would be of much help.

The boy stood over his open trunk with two sweaters draped over one arm when a sigh snapped the quiet in two, and his name arose from lips he was fairly certain it hadn’t touched before.
Turning toward his yurt-mate, Marshal couldn’t help but notice how easily his eyes rested upon her face, drawn in by shocking green irises, then invited to explore sharp, yet delicate features. She was a pleasure to observe, without a doubt, though he willed himself to ignore the fact. Beauty, unlike friendship, was no novel thing. To see at Hogwarts was to witness the very attribute of allure in physical persona, yet he had learned that beauty, while undoubtedly pleasant, was certainly not everything. Even still, there was something about Aly — the contours of her features, or perhaps the way she moved — that toyed at the defenses he’d built against such allure in a way he couldn’t quite explain (Lovely Creature, Charmer).

Still, the uncanny intrigue he felt was restricted from entering his face. ”Marshal, yeah,” he answered, though the inquiry after his name was not her last.
A roll of film, then. That was what she had been searching for. And she, like he, was in a hurry to reach the Figure Skating event. Just as before, he was struck by a lack of confidence in his ability to help her find what she’d lost, but some part of him declined to simply add the sweaters to his person and shuffle out the door. What was it to offer one more pair of eyes for a minute or two?
”Roll of film, huh?” He shook his head. ”Afraid not. But I can help you look for a bit. I saw you check your bed and your trunk, but did you look under every blasted pillow in here? You could lose a whole person in there.” He gestured toward the literal pit of pillows at the room’s center, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Upon receiving a response, the boy would abandon the sweaters to his own trunk and begin displacing various pillows or checking under sleeping bags, talking as he went. ”I don’t know anyone we’re bunking with except for Eve and Dee,” briefly… ”Would any of them have taken it for any reason?” Another grin would pleat his features, tone light to ensure clarity that the following words were mostly a joke. ”Dee does seem a bit mischievous.”

Interactions @Aly Salinger wordy word

Mentions @Nicholas McCowan @Dealla Prince @Evelynn Decipio

Active Effects Charmer Affects All

Though she was still somewhat worried about finding the roll of film and getting to the ice-skating spectators' event on time to photograph the opening, Aly couldn't help but smile, the corners of her lips tugging upwards when her most unfamiliar yurtmate offered to help her search. "Oh, you are Merlin-sent. Thank you so much! Some help would be lovely," she half-thanked, half-grumbled as she dove her arm into a crevasse between several of the heavier pillows, elbow-deep in searching for this bedamned film. The Ravenclaw was sure she painted an oddball of a picture, all dressed in her second-best photographer's outfit, half-laying on a messed-up pillow pit with cushions strewn all around her, one arm vanishing into the depths below; what an introduction to her new yurtmate this would make. Alas, if only she'd introduced herself earlier - but it was too late now.

Deciding that the film must not have been down there, for she could feel nothing but the soft cloth and gentle squish of the pillows, Aly withdrew her arm from the pit and very ungracefully rolled out of it onto the floor, clambering to her feet and giving herself a good dust-off. "Maybe not every pillow, but I tried Accio in its general direction and climbed in myself to make sure. It must be around here somewhere; I know I brought enough for the whole week in that one roll." The curly-haired seventh-year sighed, rubbing two fingers against the bridge of her freckled nose. "My fault for only bringing one big roll, I suppose, instead of several smaller ones. I truly thought it would be a space-saver in my trunk!"

Grateful that the boy had moved to start looking as well, Aly took the other side of the room, crouching to peek under some of the bunk beds that weren't hers. Nothing but dust bunnies and more shades of violet. "Ah. Well, the people here I can help with," she offered up, an attempt at giving back the aid he was rendering to her. "I'm Aly, obviously, and the two boys are Madhup and Peri," gesturing vaguely in the directions of where the two other blokes in their yurt had elected to sleep. "Madhup is Dee's boyfriend... going on 'round a year now, I think? He's from Durmstrang, a seventh-year like the rest of us. And Peri and Dee and I are all very close. Sorry, you might know him as Pericles," she apologised with a lopsided grin, peeking under the next bunk bed. "He and Dee and I all room together usually in the Martial Eagle dormitories back at Hogwarts. And we won the Potions championship together last year, if you remember all that."

Not under that bunk bed, either. Where in the name of Lear's bloody ears was this thing???

@Marshal Mozor | late morning, February 16^th, 2026 | hat/hair, outfit, shoes, jewelry | #C47DDB
lovely creature & charmer affect everyone | sta 10, eva 14, str 5, wis 19, arc 7, acc 17