Snake in the Grass PV: Santario

Santario had taken more time than usual in the courtyard as of late; there was just something about the entire area's architectural design that helped her relax. Since the winter holiday was approaching quicker and quicker, she found herself coming here more often. She’d be delighted if time would just violently propel itself sometime into January, and then everything would be fine again Until next year anyway.

Duelling was her primary focus for the year, and while her last duel ended in a way that rubbed her the wrong way, it still netted a victory for Slytherin. Not even just a duel victory but a Slytherin victory for stage one of the year. While they waited impatiently for phase two to start, all they could do was continue to practice with vigor and pay attention in class. While Santario leaned back against the fountain, she had not expected a voice to reach out to her from behind. As the unfamiliar voice spoke, she only moved her eyes to the side to see if she could see him, but alas, he was, in fact, behind her.

In one fluid movement, she pushed herself off the fountain pedestal and turned on the ball of her foot to face the boy. Sharp, analytical sapphire eyes looked at the young lion as he continued to speak; a passive expression continued to lay over her face. “I would not have called our duel exciting.” Her French-accented silvery voice reached back to him through the short distance between the two. “I do not revel in the victory because we did not truly earn it. While I did the majority of the damage for our team, Lana got removed from the duel for freezing up, and then I heard as soon as Bridget finally managed to land a hit, Phaedra decided to forfeit. Realistically if she had played her cards right with the way Bridget had been going all duel, she could have won, and that would have been impressive since I remember her barely having a leg to stand on by the time I went down.”

Truth be told, they shouldn’t have been able to win, and as soon as they had learned they were going against Phaedra, Bridget and Santario hadn’t honestly expected to win, but they decided to walk into the duel as if they already had. “She gave up. I see it as either being a sore loser or someone without the honor for her team to stick it out and try her best. But, that is something she will have come to terms with from within the mirror and her teammates.” She looked the boy over, wondering if he had been raised with manners or not; so far, the answer was not. “Since you watched the duels, you know exactly who I am. Will you bestow the same courtesy, I wonder?” The first break in her impartial expression a slight arch of her right brow accompanied the question.

@Santario Martin

If Santario searched the younger boy for 'manners', she'd be partly disappointed. It wasn't an excess of apathy that had led him to be this way, but a gap in culture between the two. From the way she spoke, Valentine immediately picked up on the density of her lexis. Bestow. Courtesy. He blinked once in surprise. A playful voice in the back of his head urged him to call her M'lady. A twitchy smile manifested on his face. And then it was gone.

"Valentine," he replied, folding the black rose into his other hand as he offered his right out for a handshake. By this point, the name 'Jackson' had meant the littlest to him than it ever did. It was a reflection of his father's authority over his identity. But now, the empty shell of Valentine was one which needed to be filled, and in this new persona, he contemplated what the name meant to him.

Upon this, his thoughts approached a tangent as he began to closely examine the profile of the girl before him. Apart from short, indecipherable utterances, this was the first time he had heard her speak. And when she did, he felt the universe melting around the glimmering flow of her accented voice.

"Are you French?" he asked out of caution, for some Englishmen/women speak with their parents' accents. He had once read about the French-English lingual divide which took place when French was the dominant and prestigious culture in society. Fast-forward several centuries into the events of the Second World War, the French were holed up in a primitive Moignot line that scarcely held off a single German. Times had shifted, as the previously uncultured became the dominant culture. "I've never met a French person before. Your accent is lovely."

If she was truly as cultured as she viewed herself to be, could she stand this deviation from the norms of nobility? Santario would be wise to level her expectations of others. The year was 2020, and the world was changing faster than it ever had before.

The boy reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite place it. The twitchy smile and the way he fidgeted with the black rose in his hands, but it probably wouldn’t hit her until she was back in her common room. He had given her a name, and whether it was his first name or his surname, she could not tell because it was not out of the question for Valentine to be the first name on some occasions. “Well then, Valentine, I am sure it is a pleasure to meet you.” She would grasp his right hand with her left in a slightly firm but brief handshake. In that short time, if he attempted to do anything outside the parameters of a customary handshake, her hand would immediately be removed from his.

The next question that Valentine would pose to Santario would be about her heritage, and while Santario thought it was quite obvious, he would quickly follow up with the fact that he had never heard one before. “Aye, Half-French Half-Irish, however, I reside in France. Which is why that is my primary accent.” It didn’t use to be that way, but the boy would have no way of knowing that. Before, her French accent only slipped out when she was tired and her Irish when she was angry, but since her now full-time living in France, the French accent dominated her vocals.

This conversation was not as smoothed as she would have liked, but then again, she hated small talk; it was an annoying social construct that most people felt prone to do. So, she decided to digress their conversation back to duelling since that seemed to be why he had approached her in the first place. “So, Valentine, is it correct to assume you have come to me with more questions about duelling?” It would not be the first time that she had been approached by a fellow student about duelling. Santario thought the younger boy should probably go to whomever his captains were since she was decently positive he was not a Slytherin, but she was almost always happy to talk about duelling or to an aspiring duellist.

@Santario Martin

"Is that what people usually come to you for and not to remark about the blueness of your eyes?"

He had only just noticed them, a pair of precious azure pearls that he swore would crush him alive if he furthered this line of dialogue. The thought elicited a suppressed laugh before he relented.

"I guess I do have some things to ask about," he replied thoughtfully. "I noticed that you're one of the few people who can see the value of rictusempra. I've been watching many of the duelists and observing their spell choices. In my opinion, Rictusempra is a very slightly softer hitting Flipendo that additionally disorientates the target. I think the benefits of the disorientation outweigh the slight loss of blunt damage. So, it's very cool to see that you're using it. I'm hoping to learn that spell one day."

"But why do you use Ventus?" he added. From the observations he had made, he remembered the wind jinx to be the Slytherin Captain's bread and butter. "Doesn't Ventus accomplish very little for the investment of time you put into it? I understand the disorientation effect, but it hits as hard as a wet sock."

The boy shrugged immensely. He remembered what he and Galton had discussed about the objective superiority of Incendio Duo. It was always interesting to see what others had to say about unpopular spells.

Santario’s right brow arched just slightly, but there would be no mistake that the girl found no amusement in his inquiry. “I would find it odd if eleven and twelve year olds like ourselves gave any real thought to the color of one’s eyes. Other than if it were an interesting combination or if one were trying to find the right backdrop or color to not clash with them in an art piece. I have black hair and fair skin; blue eyes are quite common with that combination.” Whether it would be evident or not to the boy Santario was mostly oblivious to the meaning and intention behind such statements as his. Flattery would get Valentine nowhere. “And yes, since I have become co-captain of the Viridian Vipers, most of what I talk about with people has been duelling. Besides, that is what you lead with when you approached me.”

The boy before her confirmed that he did indeed have some things to ask about, so for now, he had her attention. He spoke about his like for the tickling charm and then went on to ask about Ventus. Santario, however, disagreed with his sentiment on Ventus. “The base damaged rendered by Ventus is actually the same as Rictusempra. While Rictusempra allows for a minor amount of extra damage during the spell’s duration, the way it debuffs an opponent is not as potent as Ventus. Ventus only barely lasts as long as Rictusempra but does twice the debuff, making it harder for you to dodge your opponent’s spells. On top of that, if you cast Ventus with great precision, it will sometimes split and hit both of your opponents. In my opinion, Ventus is the superior spell, but it does depend on the context. Sometimes you need more damage over someone’s ability to evade, and sometimes you need them less capable of evading stronger spells like Flipendo because, in the long run, that is the better combo.” This was the benefit of duelling practice with the team. You cast spells at each other to learn exactly how and what it affects in a duel.

It was somewhat impressive for a first-year to be so riveted by duelling; most weren’t, usually because of the lack of spells they could learn quickly. “But again, that all depends on your opponents and stage of the duel. A strategy is always evolving at the drop of a knut.”

@Santario Martin

"Well, you've certainly put a lot of thought into it," Valentine replied.

Expectedly.

The word he was looking for was probably practice and not thought, but it wasn't as if he had any way of knowing what went on within the Slytherin circles.

"I wish I could've seen more," he expressed, noting the Slytherin girl's deadpan seriousness. "You, on the other hand, look like you've seen too much."

Santario's dismissal of everyday conversational topics in favor of her preferred dueling dialogue reminded him of someone he hated. Himself. From a young age, he had been raised as a trophy child, one whose excellence in academic and co-curricular activity was the sole purpose of his miserable life. He had known nothing but absolute dedication to his work and seemingly endless goals and aspirations set for him by the firm grip of parental authority. When he had been unexpectedly plucked from this life by the sheer revelation of his magical gift, he relished in the newfound freedom that just as equally terrified him with its uncertainty. Nonetheless, he favored it significantly to constantly being driven to endless heights of personal achievement.

Hence, it baffled him as to why Santario would willingly subject herself to similar treatment.

"Aren't there other things you like talking or thinking about other than dueling?" he groaned audibly. "You do realize that we're just kids, right?"

“I’m not a co-captain for no reason.” Was all she responded with towards his comment. However, the boy was stepping into perilous territory as her face remained a passive neutral. The boy did not know of what he spoke; perhaps he tried to verbally surmise to see how she would react. If that were the case, he would be disappointed by her distinct lack of reaction.

What would frustrate her would be his chastising her for talking about or wanting to talk about duelling. Perhaps if the boy ever became an Animagus, he would take the form of a goldfish because he indeed retained the memory of one. Was he soon keen to forget that he had approached her breaking the ice using duelling in the very beginning? So would it not have been logical to assume that was what he wanted to talk about. She decided she did not particularly care for the Valentine boy.

“Of course, there are other things I like and am interested in. Regardless of being children or not, duelling is one of my passions and just as valid as any of my other interests. It is no different a competition than Broom Racing or Quidditch.” She shook her head slightly, a half-smirk as those sharp eyes of hers burrowed into him. “If your goal is to get to know someone, then I suggest leading with your name and not insulting them regarding one of their passions. Good day, Valentine.” Santario moved past the boy with zero intention of stopping regardless of any verbal protests he may make. If he was dumb enough to try to physically stop her he would find himself at the end of her cherry wood wand. Any attempt to follow her would be short-lived as her path was towards the dungeons and the Slytherin common room.

Santario leaves the thread.

Such a pity, truly.

His grey eyes narrowed as she brushed on past him. There was no nervousness about him, no disturbance to the balance of his emotions. If Santario wasn't so old and proud, then perhaps she wouldn't be so smart that her wisdom was oft mistaken as ignorance. Childishness. She formed opinions of Valentine based on what little she chose to pay attention to, and based on whatever tasteless banter came from his unchained spirit. Ruka had seen through the superficial reputation and misconceptions, and yet Santario simply chose not to truly look. Still, there was no doubt in his mind that she would learn just who Jackson Valentine was. His way was a trait he harbored thanks to his status as what she failed to see him as. An Alpha. This was not to say that he was an 'Alpha Wolf', considering his most direct case, but as a man (an unfortunately prepubescent man). Not only would she come to learn that he was what she failed to see, but she would also explicitly come to respect him for it. Unlike how his parents had taught him, Valentine would come to achieve this feat without forcing her to do so.

That didn't mean her words didn't at least sting a little. Though they would fail to strike the chord she would hope for. Besides, true confidence spoke in silence. Ultimately, it was she that would regret her choices, both now and in the future. Snickering to himself, a half-hearted grin remained on his face, though the face inside wore a deep frown with sharp angular creases to accent his mouth.

He replaced his jacket as he began walking behind Santario, remaining silent as they traveled through the castle. Despite her distaste in him, and the tangible negativity that assaulted his aura, Valentine remained a gentleman to her. He opened her door for her and ushered her comfortably through whatever entrances lay ahead of them until he was barred from traveling forward any further.