Kindred Motherland, Foreign Fellows PV Leo Closed

Terrible Presence in effect.
| Aura of Unease Present |

Leonardo had managed to find for himself a spot of time where he could leave his office without fear of accidentally turning away a student by his absence. It was during these few and far between moments that Leonardo would finally get his first chance to have his breakfast. Macbeth, starting to fall into a more familiar nocturnal routine, was still asleep or else hunting while when Leonardo was awake at around dusk and thus the Seer was able to very easily circumvent the possible problems which would inevitably arise from taking an owl to the great hall while the entire school was having their dinner.

Like many nights, the often sallow Seer who never seemed to have enough appetite for an entire meal made sure that he would not be interrupted unless he was especially needed by the rest of the school. He never made merry on nights like this, the noise of the Great Hall being enough to drive anyone to the brink of madness. No, the claustrophobic feeling of so many people around the area tended to make the hermit of an Astronomy Professor highly uncomfortable, and if it was especially overwhelming, he would often take his meals in his own office.

Tonight was one of those nights where the Seer realized that so long as he was not especially disturbed, if he was able to keep himself focused on the objective of what he was going to say during a lecture or reviewing methods to ensure that the class remained under tabs, he would be alright. He was not feeling especially high strung, a good sign that the night would have a fine chance of going smoothly for him.

This hope was quickly dashed when he noticed a peculiar student drawing close, seeming to almost skip across the room in childish frivolity. Even as soon as the Seer began to calculate the worst that could happen, the boy was talking, quickly and with the allusion of an individual who had had just a bit too much excitement for a single day. Energy that seemed to be exploding out of the child with every small movement. As soon as the child had begun to speak, however, Leonardo had averted his gaze, silently ignoring the red-clad child and instead picking at the breakfast frittata which was a simple, yet native Mediterranean dish that Leonardo was quite fond of. Tonight it was mostly stuffed with tomato, lamb, mozzarella, onion, and a hint of basil, but there was also a bit of olive oil to the side in case the professor felt like it.

It was odd, how Leonardo felt both very concerned and also in the same turn, less concerned by the presence of the swirly boy before him. It was rather disorienting, actually.

Piérre, the boy introduced himself as. A very unique name, and a name that none too many individuals at this school seemed to possess, being mostly of French origin and not as much British. He claimed he wished to say hello, going on to explain his thoughts and reasonings for stopping by. Leonardo paid him no mind at first, still looking down at his meal like the boy, Piérre, were one of the ghosts of the school. No, not a ghost. Piérre reminded Leonardo very much so of Peeves. Or Brumby. Either one, really. Perhaps they were one and the same.

At the hearing of a pet nickname, Leonardo put his fork to the side and pinched the bridge of his nose with disbelief, closing his eyes as his brow began to furrow. A beat went by, and then two.

Finally, Leonardo brought himself to look at the kid, a common courtesy although the Seer’s ability to comprehend individual features of the boy’s face was near impossible. He assumed the kid was a first year simply because of the vivacity they possessed, and assumed nothing more, only noticing the borders of the child’s face. “I beg your pardon, young man, but I would rather not be interrupted during my meal, if it is of any difference to you.” His words were soft, controlled. “And my name, if you have not been paying attention in any of my classes, is Professor Chiadovini. I politely ask you to refrain from calling me by any of your... childish nicknames.”

This boy was swirly and energetic, things that Leonardo didn’t like, and was overly familiar with thanks to a certain Kelsey Brumby. That energy was difficult to gauge, hard to predict. They made for difficult interactions, never seeming to see sense even when it was thrown harshly in their faces. “As far as my experience here, it is of no importance to you. You have no need to know of how I feel about my work. It is not your place.”

Little hope remained for Leonardo to expect that the conversation would end at this. Children like this specimen had a terrible tendency to keep talking, regardless of people wished to hear their loud, grating voices. Individuals like this child, Leonardo was forced to believe, enjoyed listening to their own voices, because he most certainly did not.

Reducio

@Piérre Marchonné

@Leonardo Chiadovini

Piérre kept on smiling, even though the Professor didn’t seem too pleased to see him. Actually, Piérre didn’t know if the Professor even heard him until the guy made a motion which denoted either extreme stress or extreme distaste. The boy would learn that it was probably both. He had been corrected, asked to use Professor Dove’s real name. Funny how this guy seemed to be one of the first professors who had actually said something about how Piérre had an overwhelming tendency to nickname all of his Professors.

“Oh, yeah, um... well, yeah, I know your name, Mister Chiadovini.” Piérre nodded quickly, responding with just as much vivacity. “And it’s a really cool name too, really fancy, kind of like mine! Marchonné!” Piérre put a hand on his chest, as if proudly reintroducing himself again. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, Mister Chiadovini.” The boy hummed a bit. “Dinner is like, the only time of the day where a person can unwind. But you looked lonely... so here I am! Hey, I got an idea!” The Britalian put his tray down on the table across from Mister Dove, glanced around for a chair, and finding none, Piérre instead crouched a little bit, hooking one leg around his opposite knee in a sort of squat, imitating how he would usually be sitting if he were at a chair. “I’ll keep you company for a while, okay? Just until after dinner?” Piérre smiled brightly, excited to be sitting here with the Professor. He did seem kind of cool, if only because Mister Dove was so edgy one could cut a finger on the guy.

While Mister Dove kept telling the boy how some of these questions were none of the boy’s place to be asking, Piérre couldn’t help but glance at what it was that Mister Dove was having for dinner, a dish much different from the ragtag put-together meal that Piérre had picked out for himself. It looked like something that Piérre himself was familiar with, a meal that his Muggle dad had made often for the twins when they were just using up the last scraps of food before going to the store. “Is that Frittata, Mister Chiadovini?” Piérre asked, interrupting the man mid-sentence. “My parents used to make that for me and my brother Romeo all the time. What is this one made of?” The next words tumbled out before Piérre could stop them. “Can I try some?”

Oh lord, had he actually said that? Yep! Well, no going back on it now. The kid had just dedicated himself to embarrassment. Instead, Piérre snagged his cookie and began to nibble on it, looking at the Professor with wide eyes. He wasn’t going to lie, he was curious now how was the man going to respond to this random and inadvertent question. “I mean, um... if you’re not okay with that, I... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, um... you know.” He stumbled over his words again, accidentally speaking with his mouth full of cookie crumbles. This guy really knew how to make someone nervous... or maybe it was in Piérre’s opinion that this guy was a little weird. Maybe it was a mixture of Piérre’s natural clutziness and the chilling aura of the Professor combined which resulted in an uncomfortable situation.

Attempting to change topics, Piérre tried to save the conversation. “Your name is so cool, Mister Chiadovini, but I’m kind of curious because it doesn’t sound like a British or French, or German name... it sounds like mine.” This was only the excited, eccentric, and a little bit light-treading boy speaking, the one trying to prevent things from going further south than they already were. It was a musing tone which came from Piérre as he stirred his mashed potatoes with his fork. “Are you from Italy?”

Terrible Presence in effect.
| Aura of Unease Present |

Had this child won the crown from Mister Brumby for most irritable company that the Seer had held to date? No, but he was certainly coming close. Words, words, and more words were being spoken from the boy; Marchonné, and none of them were being either retained or acknowledged by Leonardo.

The boy suggested sticking around to have dinner alongside the Professor, and Leonardo once again felt his expectations for tonight dropping like a stone. “Mister Marchonné, that will not_” But the boy had already seemed to make himself at home, miming taking a seat and putting his own meal near Leonardo’s own as if in preparation to indeed share dinner with him. A part of the Seer wanted to simply abandon the table and depart right now, isolate himself in the Astronomy Tower like he usually did; but what would be the use against this obnoxious child, a child who would be just as likely to start pounding on his door and start begging to be let in... just like Brumby.

Surely the two of them had to be related; their ability to get on Leonardo’s nerves were neck and neck, both of them seeming to vie for top annoyance. Well, who said that two couldn’t play this game?

“On average, Mister Marchonné,” Leonardo began. “Individuals who are sitting alone with the ability to join the common crowd tend to wish to remain alone.” His fingers tapped the table impatiently. “Sitting alone is not an invitation for others to approach, especially not with this degree of brazen presumptuousness.” The Seer’s eyes turned a bit darker for a moment before they were averted once again, focused on something, anything else but this tortuous interaction.

Then the boy was at it again, asking rapid-fire questions about the food that Leonardo was partaking in. Not only asking those sort of questions, but asking them by interrupting Leonardo mid-sentence. Once again, Leonardo glanced around innocuously, trying to scope out the room and divine ways to come up with an excuse that would end the boy’s endless fountains of words. At the ridiculous request to try a bit of the Frittata, Leonardo nearly choked. A part of him didn’t blame the boy, but another part of him had been deeply offended that Marchonné had had the nerve to come up to a teacher, interrupt their sentences, and then ask for handouts.

Snagging a napkin and coughing into it once or twice, Leonardo tried to address the boy one piece at a time. “Frittata, yes. Lamb. And no.” He was being short, answering between short bursts of coughing. After a few moments, the Seer recovered, just in time to be assaulted with another question, this once concerning his origins.

At this, Leonardo’s brow furrowed and he fixed Marchonné with a critical gaze. The boy’s tone had shifted slightly, and the Seer could hear it. Slowly, he responded, watching the boy intently. “Venice, Marchonné. Venice.” He raised a brow. “Again, I ask why you are intrigued, but in the same turn I would much prefer to be left in peace. Arrivederci. Good bye.” Leonardo returned to his meal again.

Reducio

@Piérre Marchonné

@Leonardo Chiadovini

Mister Dove, as Piérre had suspected, was a bit grumpy at the Second year’s offer to sit and keep him company. And again, Piérre had expected that his silly little request to try some of Mister Dove’s frittata had been denied. The boy had felt a twinge of worry when his question had provoked a short coughing fit, though Mister Dove seemed to be alright. But, there has been something that Mister Dove had said that had stuck with the boy: the claim that those were were apart were individuals who wished to be left alone. “But, Mister Dove, that’s not true at all!” Piérre rebutted, shaking his head in denial. “Those are the people who need to talk to someone the most, and I’m all ears!” He cheerfully responded, nodding to solidify his words.

Mister Dove was from Venice! Well, no wonder! Piérre had once lived in Vienna for a brief time. Obviously not the same place, but funny how alike the two locations sounded at first listen. “Venice!” Piérre exclaimed excitedly. “I lived in Vienna, Austria for a while! We were a little bit close by!” Immediately the bouncy nature of the child returned, and Piérre clapped his hands excitedly. “Thats so cool! Such a small world, huh?”

Piérre scooted around a bit closer, putting his head in his hands as he looked up at the Professor admirably. Man, maybe if he did good in school too, he could come back and teach like Mister Dove had the awesome ability to! Despite himself, Piérre held back another smile by biting his bottom lip as Mister Dove tried to push the kid away again with a short Italian farewell. With a faux frown, Piérre retorted as he let his native tongue loose. “Ma ci stavamo solo conoscendo! We’re just starting to get to know one another! You can’t tell me to go away, Mister Dove!” A pouty lip. “C’mon? Please? Favore?”

Piérre shifted his weight, standing again as his legs were starting to get sore. “Why are you so grumpy all the time? Were you grumpy as a kid too? Do you need a friend?” Ah, questions. They always come in threes. Piérre was a child of spontaneous action and query, and especially when interacting with someone as, well, weird as Mister Dove. His eyes wide, Piérre picked out a few more pomegranate seeds, sucking on them as he tried to unravel the storm cloud Professor. For a moment, Piérre imagined a thundercloud over Mister Dove’s head, the rain which would continually fall and the small rumble which would fill the air. Good fodder for a sketch he was now going to try to attempt later.