8 Jun 2020, 23:41
Too Warm for My Taste
@Rafael D'spacito
It was a long trip.
Ash Andwiltz, from the Drumstrang school of magic felt incredibly scared at that moment. Not counting the scariness he had every day for nothing. They had arrived at London last night, and his first bad impression was that the barman was very scary. He began thinking that he was a over drunken thief that was upholding that tavern because he had little money, and was now a rich old man that stealing was his hobby. But he was used to think the worst of people, mostly because he was scared of mostly everything he looked at. But his Best friend Hanzo was fearless. He was like his special protector of everything he would encounter. Mostly because he was his only close friend from his native land, and his rescuer of everything. And Ash was anxious to see his friend.
As he settled into the 'Grat Hall' of the Leacky Vauldron he could smell things he thought didn't exist. But before making any expectations of his Headmaster letting him eat anything, he sat in a table, alone, with only the barman there. He didn't look at him, first because he was scared, but sometimes, he peeked up to see if he was counting up his money. But no, he could only see him humming a tune happily as he helped up a few old wizards up with what the called butterbeer.
Ash began looking around for a friend of his, but couldn't find him. Really, he was so anxious to see him and ask him things! Talk to him about what he felt of the old barman and stuff like that. Not that the barman was old~ he looked like in his middle fourties.
He began playing with a cloth and made a little may out of it. It was one of his favorite things to do, since he was a shy little boy of eleven. But really, he could not stop looking around for~ "Hanzo!"
Martial Artist
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20 Jun 2020, 08:42
Too Warm for My Taste
And, contrary to popular belief, there were a lot of reasons behind his strange sympathies. The climate was far too hot, he supposed initially upon considering such an inquiry closely, the land far too populated for his simple farmer’s tastes, the skies taking on a murky sort of gray and the civilian life bustling about all around him, the wizards of London seemingly always in a hurry to get somewhere. A shame, everyone seemed to be in a hurry these days. The young Captain couldn’t quite put his finger on it – the world wasn’t spinning any faster in England, and yet, it seemed as if everything was set in fast forward, as if he were trapped in his own mind, watching life pass by before his very eyes. The air smelled different, too, thicker in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Smoggier. The land reeked of industry, London especially. It was unbefitting of such a lovely country, even if the castles and scenery did well to cover up the difference. And, as much as he would love to stop with the topography, the problems extended far past the strange, unfamiliar climate. The people of Britain had odd sort of mannerisms – they were, he had learned, quite rude, high-thinking of themselves as a people, generally contrasting to the humble lifestyles of his fellow Norwegians. As if they were better. Maybe they were – Hanzo had never cared for titles.
It was true, the child was a long way from home. However, it was a relief that he hadn’t left his country completely, for a little bit of Durmstrang had come with him in his journey to the new, unfamiliar world. Particularly, that of his close friends – it was no secret to the students of Durmstrang that the child had a select group of close mates in which he spent just about every waking moment with, ranging from his noble teammate Nikolai, to his kindly co-captain Romeo, to the quiet, introverted acquaintances of Milo and Alec. His sister, too, was part of the small group, as well as Jan, that loveable, yet arrogant ass. They were all the absolute best, the sort of friends he wouldn’t trade for any amount of riches. But that wasn’t to say that his interactions were limited to that of his best mates – he certainly wouldn’t have traveled all the way to the Leaky Cauldron for an enemy, after all, his footsteps carrying his lightly across the London pavements as his hand reached out, pushing the sturdy doors of the Leaky Cauldron open and stepping into the cool air conditioning. This particular acquaintance, he’d actually met a few months back, specifically during some of his beginning days at Durmstrang. Ash had seemed shy at first, wary of the world in an odd, indescribable way, his mannerisms reflecting that of an abused or bullied kid. Much like the Captain’s own past tendencies, before he’d risen above his own fear and reverence for those in power. Perhaps that’s why Hanzo was attracted towards the other boy, why he defended him so errantly when the other kids of the school tried to pick on him. After all, the Captain always been an ambassador of peace and tranquility – it just didn’t seem fair, to let the child get used by the upperclassmen and fellow second years. Power was for helping others, not hindering. Didn’t people know that?
The Captain would have no more time to consider this. It was a bit chilly in the walls of the Leaky Cauldron, he absently noticed as his hands reached for his shoulders, his mind racing to make up for the sudden change in temperature. A welcome feeling, he supposed, holding some sort of semblance to the chilly Norwegian air he had once presided in. His stormy-gray eyes searched the bar stools, lip bit between his teeth in thought as he searched for – ah, there he was. Ash Andwitz, in all his small, cub-like glory. He was fiddling with a napkin, how endearing – the Captain smiled, his eyes lighting up as he noted his friend’s mannerisms. Well, it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting any longer. A big, slightly mischievous grin was beginning to grow on his face, as he began his journey forward, a playful air about him. He would tiptoe behind his acquaintance, before wrapping his arms around the sitting child gently in a quick-backwards hug, setting his chin on the other boy’s shoulder. His voice would resound over the mutterings of their surrounding peers, the joy in his voice as he spoke. 1“Эш, Рад видеть тебя! Как твои дела? Хорошо, я надеюсь?” [/font]
– Translation –1. Ash, it’s great to see you! How have you been? Good, I hope?
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
20 Jun 2020, 16:41
Too Warm for My Taste
Ash looked around him, feeling terribly lonely, and scared, only a barman to keep him company. He didn't feel alright here in England. It was warm, and he missed the snow. What really troubled him was what they were going to do at the London Quiddich Stadium. He wasn't a good Quiddich player himself, but his brother had been one of the best beaters at Drumstrang, and well, Ash had the right to feel jealous about his brother. Ash did know how to fly, but of course, the bludger would immediately hit him in the face. He liked to go to see Quiddich matches, and this was another opportunity to see Drumstrang students play. But Ash was troubled, because he didn't know if the British students were cheaters. Of course, Ash had a good eye, and would see if someone would foul-play.
He let out a deep sight, until he heard the calming voice of Hanzo, and his bear hug somewhat calmed him from any troubles. "oh Hanzo, det er godt å se deg!1"
He said to him, a dimple coming to his smile. He let out a deep sight and thought about what he was going to tell his friend to answer his question. "bra tror jeg 2" Ash decide to say in his native language. He didn't want to talk in English, since he didn't want any English people to overhear them. He was scared to make a bad impression, and like always, he was scared because they were people that he didn't know. "er du spent på kampen?3" he asked his friend, wondering if he was going to play. If not, well, he wouldn't just stay alone in that big stadium.
Translations:
oh Hanzo, det er godt å se deg!="Oh Hanzo, It's good to see you!"
bra tror jeg=good, I guess.
er du spent på kampen?=Are you exited for the match?
Martial Artist
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