venom of the idol('s) glance
Hello, Alexios Katsaros!
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| Ency URL: [ the golden fleece ] [Edit Profile] | Sunday, June 29, 2025 |
| = | Louise Glücks, "The Seven Ages": i was human: // i had to beg to descend Though he’d rather not admit it in polite company, a terribly pervasive sense of envy had always followed Alexios. It was a shadow over his golden shoulder, a ghost aimed to possess him at the best and worst of times. No matter how hard he tried to shake its terrible influence, it walked where he walked and stood where he stood, so beautifully ubiquitous that no single moment felt free from sin. He’d spent his childhood so admiring of those around him—how beautiful certainty seemed upon them, as if his father’s judgment truly had been God-graced and exacting, his mother just as similarly gifted in taking all of which she’d deserved and been denied. So well-loved and privileged, he’d never have half the hardship his mother had experienced. Instead, his pampered lifestyle taught him salvation even in scorn, and his position as the first and favoured son predisposed him to greatness. And yet, envy still flashed like a knife in the dark, bright enough to blind. The mere idea of it made no sense. How could he sustain such jealousy when he’d been raised to want for nothing but his parents’ approval, which he often enjoyed in spades? Durmstrang was a bad influence on him; he could see it clearly. There was no other explanation. Even this early into his years at the wizarding school, life had its ways to test his limits. The longer he spent away from home, the worse his jealousy festered, and it stilled him to know that opportunities lay just past the |
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | battlefield he’d dropped himself into. Alexios’s current circumstances made it easy for him to run ahead towards the finish line, but it was entirely his fault that he’d lured himself into such early security that he couldn’t simply abandon his peers. When his entire life now revolved around proven loyalty, he’d need to play it safe for as long as he sought the spotlight. Of course, all considering, Alexios does enjoy the company he keeps. It’d be disingenuous to claim otherwise, and it’s hard not to feel charmed by his sociable peers. He’d always been good at making conversation, less so true friends, but it’s nearly impossible not to feel some sense of community when they’d all been drafted into the same hazing rituals. Despite a general sense of ruthless competition—suitable in an environment shaped by necessity—the Hellhound Pack somehow bore itself with such structure and promise that he couldn’t have helped but appreciate the organisation of it. In truth, it remained far stricter than he’d expected from Durmstrang’s delinquents, with a greater emphasis on transaction than its once-community implied. Still, its support system was robust enough to ensure the safety of any clever student. If he were any less daring, perhaps he would have sought safer stakes. Yet what was the worth of an easy hunt? For his sweet sister, Ariadne, nearly but not yet old enough to join him in Durmstrang’s hallowed halls, he expected better than what he’d given himself. For her, he could strike while the iron was hot as long as she knew how to take the hilt to handle—for her, Alexios would tread out an easier path to glory like his mother had for him, and her stepmother before her. Knowing her personality, he’d never recommend her the life he’d carved out for himself at Durmstrang. He was doing this to re-establish their family in the school narrative, as if any foundation of reputation was better than none. For their family to be clean once more, he needed to dirty his hands and, beyond all the things he prayed for, morning and night, he hoped she’d never find his own journey replicable. 1/5 // Next Post |
| ... cassius hirano | alexios katsaros ... |
| hogwarts wizardry. slytherin duelling captain. | durmstrang institute. hellhound pack. |
venom of the idol('s) glance
Hello, Alexios Katsaros!
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| Ency URL: [ the golden fleece ] [Edit Profile] | Sunday, June 29, 2025 |
| = | the salt, the bitter, the demanding, the preemptive //And yet, since no good story starts in the middle of a hero’s tale, the terrible truth is that he is not yet a made man, even at the end of his foundation year. It’s a fate shared by many other interested potentials in his age cohort, but an undesirable one nonetheless. Consider him rightfully spoiled, but Alexios had never been one to be denied—Durmstrang stoked his jealousy, but the Hellhounds threatened his patience. Already a year abroad, and the only position he’d managed to claim for himself was that of a runner. A messenger boy, if he was being vulgar. Durmstrang cared no more about the Collective’s hierarchical affectations than any self-sustained society, but from a Hellhound’s perspective, Alexios remained little more than snow on the floor or a rock to be skipped—sometimes useful, but still unrefined, unremarkable and routinely replaced. He’s new enough that he understands the Pack’s greater wariness, but such frequent dismissal still raked at his lionheart. At the very least, his duties remain straightforward. Tedious, perhaps, but never too inconvenient once he connects names to faces. If not for the habitual condescension and campus-crossing coercion, he’d almost find the busywork |
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | . | fun in the grand scheme of things. There were just so many things to keep track of that it felt rather productive to prove himself right, even in the most mundane acquaintanceships. Understudy work—typically so repetitive but necessary—was, in truth, where he thrived. Especially this late into the year, it was the most fascinating, contradictory thing to string and snip off connections. Barred by his lack of status, information-gathering had quickly become the safest, most intensive extent of his interactions. For the most part, with rare exceptions, he’s restricted to the halls. His territorial upperclassmen rarely let him or other runners linger long without true membership, but today seemed a different story. Alexios’s sponsor, a fourth-year member of the first branch, had greeted him so pointedly earlier in the day that it’d all but required him to join the rest of the Pack at the outskirts of their current hunting grounds. He’d, of course, naturally acquiesced, but not without his own agenda at hand. It’s a good day to spend outside, at least—warmer than usual, cloudy and not quite beautiful, but the closest thing they could get to it so far north. This deep into the grounds, so far beyond the treeline, only through gaps in the canopy could any of them be reminded of Durmstrang Castle’s looming reputation. The Hellhounds had fashioned themselves so insularly that it was a miracle any of them identified themselves with the Institute at all. Sitting outside looking in, Alexios and his fellow potentials remain nothing more than window-dressing, the perfect audience to their sworn brothers, too dignified to pay them any mind. The end of the academic year is on the horizon, and their nearly-graduated seniors’ tentative freedom from Durmstrang’s halls follows with riotous celebration. It’s a privilege, no doubt, and a rowdier affair than any Alexios had witnessed out of the typically leashed Hounds, though apparently not one unfamiliar to many upperclassmen. Where he more often than not saw restraint now remains incredible familiarity—a casualness that Alexios cannot help but envy, considering the Pack’s exclusionary habits. . 2/5 // Next Post |
| ... cassius hirano | alexios katsaros ... |
| hogwarts wizardry. slytherin duelling captain. | durmstrang institute. hellhound pack. |
venom of the idol('s) glance
Hello, Alexios Katsaros!
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Ency URL: [ the golden fleece ] [Edit Profile] | Sunday, June 29, 2025 |
| = | And like everyone, I took, I was taken //There remained only one issue: Branch 2, missing one of its own. The more he stares, the more he is sure of this fact. Where every other group, including the inner circle, sits carefully arranged in their habitual spots, there’s a gap between its director and advisor, a hollow hole in the very middle so starkly obvious if one knew where to look. If it had been a regular Hound, Alexios would not have noticed it so clearly, but appointed members are rare to come by and often proud of their role. The moment he realises, flitting through his mental logbook of members, his questions are answered, and Alexios hears their prodigal Hound before he sees him. Approaching from the direction of the castle comes the faint clatter of chains and snow-crush of heavy-soled boots, leading the way for another pair following far closely after. They’re distinguishable even without announcement, even lacking a messenger boy’s extensive expectation to keep tabs. Johannes Sauer, ever late—ever forgiven—returns to the clearing as if a son from war, depositing a stray member into the crowd without a single glance back before being pulled wholeheartedly into his branch superior’s open arms. |
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | The moment Alexios turns to stare, he catches several others drawn to the scene. It’s hard not to, this close with so many of them already settled. Still, where he expects them to turn away as many others habitually did, they stay firmly fixed upon the keeper’s profile. If Johannes notices, he makes no indication of it: not of the relief amongst his own branch, of the instinctual settling of the others—as if a missing puzzle piece found once more—nor the strange fascination puppeting the inner circle. It was the strangest, most illogical thing. Alexios had met the nearly-graduated keeper once, observed him many times more, and yet found nothing so attention-worthy. He was perhaps a fashion stand-out, but not nearly enough to guarantee the fawning and flowers often received in passing. If one thing was clear, his upperclassman was the antithesis of everything Alexios wanted to be—unapproachable, unfriendly, the paragon of interaction only within the Pack’s eldest ranks. He was a bastion of bad habits, and, despite his biblical rage against anyone who dared speak against his branch, Johannes made no effort to integrate himself further into the ‘new’ normal Alexios had always known. In fact, Alexios couldn’t think of a single time he had witnessed the keeper overseeing his underclassmen as anything other than pawns to use or protect. The unspoken lines demarcating roles from reality never seemed stricter than with branch two’s guard, who’d taken hierarchy to heart and rarely overstepped except to destabilise foundations. And yet, for all of his old-guard flaws, rumour had it that Johannes remained the most loyal Hound they had. Alexios still couldn’t tell if the remark was as satirical as he thought of it, but such a favoured position was often quite clear in how the keeper trampled over established procedures. Johannes somehow retained enough domestic and international favour to excuse frequent departures without shame. Quidditch, Hexwizard, balls, summer camps… the list went on. No matter how often he associated himself with strangers, intermingling with Durmstrang’s best and brightest as if one of theirs, it’d all be excused the moment he remembered his place in the grand scheme of things. Did the spotlight blind Johannes to his significance, or was he truly so traditional that he couldn’t acknowledge infamy when it characterised him? Alexios had only associated himself with the Hellhounds for less than a year, still unsworn and relegated to the outskirts of Pack activity, but even he knew his place and its expectations. 3/5 // Next Post |
| ... cassius hirano | alexios katsaros ... |
| hogwarts wizardry. slytherin duelling captain. | durmstrang institute. hellhound pack. |
venom of the idol('s) glance
Hello, Alexios Katsaros!
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Ency URL: [ the golden fleece ] [Edit Profile] | Sunday, June 29, 2025 |
| = | I dreamed // I was betrayed:He’d been staring for too long, stepping too close to the line in the snow without even realising it. He knows it, distaste tainting observance, and so does—“You’ll start a scene if they catch you staring at them like that,” Someone teases, knowingly, but Alexios cannot tear his attention away from the mere possibility. He’d rather have a scene than their passive intrusion, no matter how close they were to replacing their graduates as the Pack’s newest recruits. His inattention isn’t taken lightly. There’s a beat of silence, Alexios’ eyes turned ever-reliably towards their upperclassmen, before his fellow runner escalates his bid for attention. Where there’d previously been just a mild poke, Alexios’s musings are cut off with a pinch at the crook of his elbow, sharp enough to cut through the thick uniform layers they’ve been forced to wear in this near-summer heat. The pain startles him as much as it grounds, sidelining his terrible judgment in favour of true interaction. Nikola Kresović—branch three runner, inoffensively nice, inspired and sponsored entirely by his older brother—softens his approach the moment Alexios pays him proper attention. It takes only a single gesture for them to look |
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | towards their own ranks. Where the end of the year had loosened the established members’ stiff conduct, the same artificiality conversely characterises their potentials. Conversations start and stop with a halting lilt, sentences broken off by glances into the clearing proper in some attempt to catch their sponsor and frequent patrons’ eyes. Alexios chances a glance at his own sponsor, yet the other appears too preoccupied with cheating people out of cards to pay much attention. Banal indulgences, perhaps, but at least a semi-inclusive one. It makes all too much sense that no other messenger boy, bar Alexios himself, pays attention to the single upperclassman that the entire second branch and half of the inner circle seem to revolve around; Johannes, who had only given Alexios the time of day once, had never made it a habit to choose specific potentials to run his messages through Durmstrang. Alexios turns back to Nikola, rather discontent with the example his fellow near-Hounds offer. He’d always been good at networking—it only happened that he sought better conversation than those fizzled by fear. He makes his own gesture, nodding his head towards the rest of the Pack. “Do you think we’ll ever be like that? Like them.” In his periphery, Johannes settles among friends and enemies alike with an attitude so brusque and nonchalant that it’s difficult to imagine the tension that remains behind closed doors. “Well,” Nikola begins, stretching the single word in fake contemplation, “that’s the hope, isn’t it? That’s why we’re here, invited, instead of just being back in our dorms by now.” That was true—It’d be a lie to say that Alexios hadn’t thought about that possibility already, that he wasn’t still thinking of their Spartan accommodations with great disdain. The grimace he only just manages to stifle is ungrateful, he knows, but it is an honest one. “Even so, it isn’t the same. Just watching things, it just makes me feel so…” He trails off, unable to soften truth into something less covetous. After a few halting moments, it becomes increasingly clear that he does not need to. “Jealous? I know what you mean.” Nikola prompts instead, so good and affable in speech that the mere sin of it falls away from casual conversation. It’s difficult to think of his fellow runner struggling—the first time they’d met, Alexios had still been learning the ropes of where to go and who to talk to, and it’d been Nikola who’d taken him under his wing before their sponsors had the chance to officiate their commitments. Yes, jealous. That was the word—the simplest, prettiest way to address the shameless want looming behind him. He shakes his head as if to clear it, words spilling out as if water loosed from its dam. “What I wouldn’t give to know our future. There are so many of us, but our upperclassmen… They always seem to know where they stand with each other. No matter how many they might have lost or gained, it seems as if every connection had been pre-established, passed down even, without a single amendment.” Alexios hadn’t needed to interrogate their kingpin to know that many of their appointed Hounds would be graduating this year, most—not all—of which he’d tried his best to attend to when needed. It was just Johannes, so transparently unfriendly, whom he couldn’t begin to understand. “The campaign process next year—” Nikola immediately pulls a face at the reminder, as animated in phrase and character as any actor, and lifts a hand as if to wave off his concerns. “You’ve really got to relax, Aleksa.” Nikola means well; he knows this. Nikola almost always means well, always so impressively straightforward without even trying, but indignant almost-irritation flares nonetheless. It fades as quickly as it came, just there-and-gone enough to register its existence amid the jealousy perpetually present. Alexios had never considered them familiar enough for diminutives, no matter how close they were to getting there properly, and his worries seem perfectly legitimate, all things considered. Nikola continues, just as oblivious to his misgivings as many. “The campaign process—the leadership—we can’t do anything about that, but I’m sure it’d be fine. Our upperclassmen are smart, and why stress about the end of the line when we haven’t even found the start yet? You’re not the only one in this, you know.” It sounds so simple when the other says it, as if Alexios truly could shelve his worries away until their consequences were in plain sight. He’d always been a planner; by his own words, Nikola had never been. Their unsworn status remains as obvious as ever. Despite his grand ambitions, new Hounds—of which they were not even yet considered—were last in an aspiring leader’s voter base, sidelined entirely by their higher-ups and those properly appointed into their positions. Alexios had done what he could to endear himself to their upperclassmen, to limited success. If he’d had so much trouble being acknowledged, let alone remembered, the truth was that he couldn’t have charmed his way into Johannes’ good graces in the first place, no matter how hard he tried. He’d only ever wanted to learn, but so many other people made better teachers. “I suppose you’re right...” Alexios, noble-hearted as he remained, could do better than a mentor who conflated education with crude aggression, scrupulous only towards his own. Alexios’s own sponsor had at least seen something special in him to take him under their wing so quickly, but even that success had been borne from an individualistic approach. Validated, Nikola’s face brightens, clapping him on the shoulder and already chattering away about ‘always being right’ (an often untrue sentiment). He’d been trying to integrate Alexios into conversations for a while, it seemed, and even the tentative small talk surrounding them had been depressed by his inattention. Ever amicable, he smiles and nods back when prompted, but even active interaction cannot keep Alexios from sneaking one last peripheral glance into the eye of the storm. . 4/5 // Next Post |
| ... cassius hirano | alexios katsaros ... |
| hogwarts wizardry. slytherin duelling captain. | durmstrang institute. hellhound pack. |
venom of the idol('s) glance
Hello, Alexios Katsaros!
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Ency URL: [ the golden fleece ] [Edit Profile] | Sunday, June 29, 2025 |
| = | earth was given to me in a dream // in a dream i possessed itSat properly in place, Johannes’ head is tilted towards another Hound’s as they say something clever in his ear, a remark too short to be distinguishable from Alexios’ vantage. He laughs, knocking shoulders against his fellow Hound in fake-exasperation, but does not turn away. His conversation partner stares down at him indulgently, and he’s still smiling, too sharp to be anything but knowing. Someone else tries to catch Johannes’ favour from the branch’s outer edge, a constant whir of conversation, but when his attention lifts, it does so with sweeping intentionality. He scans the crowd at large, skipping past the Hound attempting to boast one thing or another, tallying all the people Alexios had seen him interact with before catching, finally, against those of his faithful admirers. Popov shifts away at the acknowledgement, immediately irritated. Still, their highly swept hair does little to obscure the ever-present connection that often puts him and Johannes at each other’s throats one day and ignoring each other the next. Even their kingpin’s attention sways after a moment of recognition, there and gone again, satisfied with something incomprehensibly passing. |
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | The only possible explanation remains Johannes’s prey-like domesticity, so begrudgingly learned that any amount of surrender appeared sufficient enough to abandon observance. Komarov does not falter, rarely does. It is his right as Johannes’ dedicated handler, but the second branch had never seemed quite satisfied with the inner circle’s machinations towards their favourite guard. There hadn’t been another example of such top-down assignment in years—Johannes had been, as ever, a special case even from recent memory. Uncharacteristically emboldened, seemingly in a good mood, Johannes somehow finds it in himself to greet his handler. It’s nothing more than a tilt of the head from across the busy clearing, but something passes between the two nonetheless, soaring so far overhead that Alexios cannot hope to understand it before the moment passes. As always with his upperclassmen, Alexios does not even register in the periphery. Nikola had just been teasing him—his simple attention remained, sleuthing so gradually honed, but would never be enough to start anything in the system that already existed. Here, now, he is only as much as his opportunities, and his opportunities were only as plentiful as his peers were generous. No matter how closely Alexios stares or how much information he gathers, he’d only ever gain that same desired recognition with his own assertiveness. If he remains content in the role given to him, he’d never be greater than the boy he’d always been. It’s far from the illustrious life his parents had always set him up for, but he’ll change things one day. He’d change everything, if it were only left up to him. . 5/5 // Return to Top // Submit Post |
| ... cassius hirano | alexios katsaros ... |
| hogwarts wizardry. slytherin duelling captain. | durmstrang institute. hellhound pack. |