Snow for our Ruined Convergence pv Elena Clark

Image posted by the memberxNoel Clavero
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1st Year Durmstrang
N Speech: #4e677e
«Bonjour»
N Image posted by the member
Image posted by the memberNC 16.Feb.2026
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Only two weeks prior, Noel had held an old volume from the Durmstrang library between his fingers. It spoke of Baba Marta, a witch of the Ket-Volk. Yet as he read of that revered woman, one of the founders of Koldovstoretz, he had not in the slightest, imagined that he would encounter Elena here again of all places.
Whereas even that unannounced echo was overshadowed by the sight of her standing upon the ice with the blue-eyed De’Luca. For hours, Noel had been attempting to recover from that image. Never before had he been this grateful to not have attended an event with friends. At the mere thought of possibly having been observed with such a perplexed expression, his shoulders drew imperceptibly tighter.

The snowflakes fell from the blackened sky. They seemed to gather within the clouds, only to descend with deliberate intent, like a dramatic visitation. Noel witnessed them in silence, attempting to cast off his thoughts — though it was only the snow that loosened from his hair. Dark-blond strands settled in languid indifference, nearly obscuring his sight. For a brief moment, the boy came to a halt. He brushed part of his hair behind his ears whilst his legs sank deeper into the untrodden snow. The cold greeted his shins. That fine sting of pain proved distraction enough to briefly wipe the many questions from his mind. In these moments, the world was small for Noel with the distance too great, too much time with too few moments.
Instinctively, he turned his head back toward the place where he‘d had journeyed from. In the distance, the tents still lingered in view. The few scattered lights still rebelled against the late night air.

Shortly after returning from the couple figure-skating, Noel had resolved not to spend the whole night in his bed. The questions crowded too insistently within the courtyard of his mind. Yet with distance from his place of rest, far out by the ruins, he could at least allow his eyes to roll.
For the Durmstrang student had not seen Elena for nearly a year. Or perhaps it was already over twelve months. After an intriguing encounter within England‘s nature, there had been no cause for further contact. After all, they were neither friends nor even acquaintances. And yet, at times, the thought of her would drift over his head, whenever his mother Marietta stood before him in stern composure. Neither was the De‘Luca scion a familiar bird at his window, but together? «Bizarre», Noel almost silently hushed.
He imagined that the chances of coincidence seemed favourable, as he lifted his foot from deep in the snow and stepped closer to the wall. Near the ruin, the cold white no longer rose so obstructively with each step. With a brief glance along the height, Noel supposed that the tall stone must have shielded the ground from the worst of the weather. At the very least, it allowed for easier passage by its side.
His shoulders loosening almost of their own accord. Within a few steps, the time corroded stone led him around the corner. The tents faded from behind him the deeper he ventured into the old ruin. Its beauty hummed silently of the past, luring Noel to almost lose himself in the nostalgia of home — in abandoned rooms and forgotten design. Yet with the next step around another corner, he found himself provoked by fate. Noel stared, his features undone.

It was none other than Elena, who stood there in the midst of the snow veiled ruins. Long, blond hair fell along the softness of her features. It was haunted, cascading in waves like those of princesses Noel had so often read of in old libraries. Her pale skin seemed almost to glow beneath the snow-laden moon. With closed eyes, she existed among the falling flakes like a spirit wandered astray. Her breathing moved so imperceptibly that, slowly, a knot began to form in his chest. Unease unfolded.
Noel turned his gaze from her to the moon — and back again. A critical furrow settled upon his brow, only accompanied by the soft descent of further snowflakes. No wizard lingered in the sky, holding her in place by spellcraft. Cautiously, his eyes slipped downward, now aiming at her shoes. There was neither any signs of intoxication — and she was most evidently not some flower engaged in meticulous lunar photosynthesis! Though, that last possibility he was not entirely willing to dismiss.
Noel was just about to raise his voice. He had already taken the first quiet steps in her direction. The question of what was happening resting upon his tongue, when his eyes swept the surroundings, searching to see whether anyone else might be near. He was not paranoid, yet the situation was too peculiar. No one stood half-concealed in a corner. Nor did anyone lie in the snow with wand drawn toward her, keeping her spell bound. They were entirely alone. Noel had seen enough.

The blond turned his attention back to Elena and resumed his approach. This time, he was deliberately louder, although his steps, elegant by nature, still bore no resemblance to those of an elephant.
«What are you doing there, Elena?», he inquired, and though the matters of the figure skating had already begun to recede, another question slipped in between. Touched with quiet irritation, «Are you recovering from the tournament by imploring the moon for emotional support? I rather doubt—» Noel paused, as uncertainty crept in. He swiftly turned toward the pale, glowing disc. «—that she will answer.»
The moon rested upon the firmament, its light piercing even the heavy veils of falling snow. The glow caught in his hair as it had in Elena’s, tracing along the strands and illuminating his skin until both seemed little more than nightly apparitions.
He could not imagine that a planet would make a suitable confidant. Let alone a therapist capable of guiding one through the confusions of a skating routine. And yet, Noel focused, for he knew nobody was all-knowing.
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mentioned: @Elena Clark; Note: What Elena is doing in this post was discussed prior to this starter. ; WC: 1008

[url=https://hogwarts.io/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&u=72799]PC: Lorenzo Vincenti][/url]
conmarth_reim_spiritum_fadra. xest_paks_hyma_fshn_null.

Snow for our Ruined Convergence pv Elena Clark
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O MY DECEMBER MOON
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𝕾till. Perfectly immobile. Around her droplets of ice crumbled from the skies, intricate unique patterns twirling down in a strange procession, deposing themselves on her skin and melting down in delicate beads of dew. Clouds lightened — paradoxically — the infinite canva of black ink, only visible upon entering the bright halo formed around the moon. Aromas of freshly fallen snow, charcoal and something more raw swirled, carrying sentiments of the day prior.

The sound of skates slicing the ice still echoed in her heart, the thrill of pushing and flying off the ring, landing back with a thud and twirling once more. She had never felt as close to a bird as she did then — soaring in the air, wings growing from her collarbones and carrying her far from the earth. Carrying her to the moon. The glowing orb in the sky shone down on her, bathing the raven in her familiar light. No matter where she stood, the moon never wavered. Her light tingled against her skin in the very same way it did on top of the highest tower of the castle, the very same way it did under the cover of her bedroom, the very same way it did from the tall windows of an estate she would rather forget.

She had not known why her step had carried her towards these ruins. A glimpse of a map lingered in a corner of her head, perhaps her body had guided her towards a familiar place. Familiar? The raven had never set foot in Koldovstoretz, and yet something about these ruins comforted her — then again, she appeared to have a penchant for abandoned ruins, especially paired with the devastating beauty of her loyal luminescent companion. Her breath rose and curled in puffs of smoke, the wind of winter blowing calmly over the landscape. Tucking a golden curl behind her ear, a familiar sensation coursed through her body, her senses warning her someone had entered this sanctuary unannounced.

A piece of broken glass flashed blonde curls and an easily recognisable smile, one she had not seen for a very, very long time. Not since a bird had found its end by her own hands, a scene that had strangely been replayed over the course of november. Pressing her eyes shut, head still tilted towards the moon, she prayed for the memory to vanish, to return to the toumb from which it came.

"Noel."

Without pivoting or opening her eyes, a simple greeting that may make her appear some sort of peculiar prophet, should he have not noticed the ravaged window tucked behind large stones. "What are you doing there, Elena?" The question echoed between them, a chuckle escaping her as she finally tilted her head down, gently pivoting to face him. Perhaps a year ago she had been positively crossed at the blonde boy for pushing her further than she had wished so, yet currently all anger had recoiled like a wave under the serenity night time brought to her scarred soul.

A heartfelt laughter escaped her upon his inquiry, shaking her head — it would not be the first time she used this faraway rock as an emotional support, thus the accuracy of his statement. "The moon answers in many ways," she mused, the shadow of a smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head back towards the celestial body enlightening the scene. "But no, I have not sought her out for comfort tonight. I am merely admiring her beauty." Night had its particular way of slowing worlds, allowing one to fully bathe in the beauty unfolding before them, engrave each variation on one's retina until it is all one can see when eyes are closed.

"What of you?" she returned the question, before processing his words, and where they stood. "I had not deemed you an enjoyer of sports. Hockey? Or mere spectator?"
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date ; 16 february 2026 ; night
actions ; description of actions
outfit ; link — casual
koldovstoretz ; location
blip bloop ; ooc
thoughts ; speech
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abilities ; sixth sense ; calming presence.
statistics ; sta 6 ; eva 7 ; str 4 ; wis 9 ; arc 6 ; acc 8
mentions ; @noel clavero
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❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧-𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤, 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.❞
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