21 May 2022, 07:50
Crashed Falcon
It was another morning awakening to the undying truth that Valentin was being lied to. The previous evening, the pale seeker had tried to convince himself that he was reading too much into the change his friends had undergone. He must have been seeing in them what he wanted to see, weaving a drama to make himself necessary to them. Yet, as a chorus of birds cheered on the coming daylight, Valentin looked over the bunks of his dearest and still felt the shadows clinging to them like a requiem in the air.April 29th, 2022
Valentin couldn’t let himself be mad at Mik and Yef, not when it was easier to throw himself into training before anyone else woke up. Snagging his Silver Arrow broom from the rack hanging from the ceiling above his top bunk, Valentin didn’t even wait to get through the doorway to mount up. Blazing directly at the door as he lay at the front of his broom, Valentin’s right arm extended his wand and he whispered for the opening of the door. The spell struck with only a split second to spare and thin Valentin narrowly cleared the opening. He was already flying down the main stairway by the time the door began to close itself again. In seconds he was outside and ascending at a sharp angle into the frigid northern air. He had forgotten his coat again, but to turn back now would kill the magic of trying to forget.
The higher the white seeker rose, the more jagged the windchill, and the more he shivered. What mattered, though, was feeling the wind rippling over his skin and hair. The faster he went, the more forceful the air’s embrace became, and the more he felt okay. High above Durmstrang’s rugged wilderness, only Stribog, the wind spirit, could see or hear him scream and cry. No one had to feel bad about the tears in Valentin’s sacred slipstream, so perfectly hidden was he in isolation. This high in the vaulting sky, not even his loudest scream could audibly reach the ground. Pulling tight into a corkscrew dive, Valentin bore his weight against the chaos of crosswinds and his mind emptied out like an hourglass’s final sand grains. He could feel the weather shifting, smelled rain in the air, and static prickled the back of his neck hair. A storm approached.
Pulling up at the end of the dive, Valentin sped only a meter above the treetops. He was flying far too fast to reach down and pass their fragrant boughs through his fingertips. The wind howling in his ears deafened all else, but Valya knew that the birds had gone silent. This was his temple and he knew all the subtleties of its temperament. In the distance, the institute’s castle hunkered down into its earth and to Valya it all seemed too heavy. Shifting his weight back, the boy began to climb again like a rocket burning hard to escape the planet’s orbit. A dark thundercloud towered above, and deep within its billowing grey a warning grumbled out. Valya continued to climb.
Once Valentin had acclimated to the chill, a torrent of thoughts breached his levies again. Yefim had at least opened up a bit about his dad, before. The boy had really grown, hadn’t he? What a colossal architecture of muscle he had crafted of himself. Was it really his father’s absence that had turned him so ruthless and, at times, almost demonic? The way Yefim revelled in the weak cowering in front of him… would joys so dark really spawn from the lonely wishes of a boy longing for his loving father? As grateful as Valentin was for Yefim opening up to him even this much, the seeker felt that something important was being left out. It could have been that Yefim himself did not know, so how could Valentin be mad about secrecy so murky that even its bearer might not understand it? Yet, Valentin had seen it. Yefim wasn’t afraid to lie if he thought it would be funny. Was it all a joke to him, leaving the niffler in the dark? Wasn’t Valentin just another pawn in his game, another crony to fetch him everything he desired? Nearing a T-shaped buttress at the top of the thundercloud, Valentin levelled off to skim horizontally along its perimeter as its insides flickered with bursts of silver.
Didn’t Mikael know that he, too, had changed, and why hadn’t Mikael said anything to Valya as Yefim transformed into a dark new being? The two had always been close, even before the niffler stuck his nose into their lives. The way Mikael looked that day of their duel… he was fighting to keep his grasp of Yefim, to repel the threat Valentin posed. The deliciousness of exchanging blows and making each other bleed-- was Valentin not turning out just the same, savagely delighting in the pain and violence? In his mind, Valentin saw Mikael’s eyes just as they were that day when the pale boy burned the other boy alive, frozen helplessly in place by Valentin’s own hand. Just standing there, watching Mik as the flames licked his skin, looking deep into those dark eyes without remorse. Mikael only grew more shadowy from that day, his presence warping into something much more terrible.
When Valya would ask Mik what it was that spellbound him into staring off at a wall or ceiling, he just shrugged the niffler off. Valentin was an unusually perceptive boy for his age. The response of “just thinking” struck him clearly as a lie, if not of omission, then as flagrantly as Yefim lied for his own amusement. All that Valya wanted was to be close to them, but he didn’t feel privy to such secrets as the eclipse overtaking their hearts. Was he always destined to be an outsider with them, tacked on because the niffler couldn’t be easily gotten rid of, or he was simply too convenient a tool? For as purely as Valentin loved them, he was not so naïve as to believe that unconditional devotion could not be used as a simple instrument of their schemes.
Thinking back on the spring ball, Valentin recalled Mikael’s gaze as it locked in place on some other dimension, on and on and on… Was this not also Valentin’s fault? A result of freezing the boy in place as he burned, had Valentin not permanently scarred Mikael’s mind with unavoidable pain? Had Valentin not driven both Mik and Yef into the devil’s arms with his momentous failure in London? That crushing defeat was what seemed to immediately proceed all of their changes. If Valentin was their pawn now, such vengeance was all too fitting. Of course they wouldn’t share the secrets of their hearts with a tool. Yef and Mik had each other, and Yefim even had Erin to call his own. Why would they have any great love for a collapsed star that cursed them?
Thunder crackled loud as the sky flashed white and a burst of air caught Valentin from the side, sending him into a roll. As his pale eyes recovered from the blinding light, Valentin felt the thundercloud envelop him with blackness. Air thick with water, the boy struggled to breathe and it became impossible to know which way was up. Valentin reached out an arm in the hope of slowing his spinning, and a blue blade of lightning lanced before him, several feet thick. Thunder cracked inside his bones and rattled deafeningly through his skin. Struck back by an updraft, Valentin spiralled further out of control as he clung to the broom that was his only hope of survival. Through his frozen arms, the boy could no longer feel except for the most basic cues of resistance against his aching shoulder muscles. Pain permeated his chest as repeated light flashes blinded him through closed eyelids, but gasping lungs fought the sensation of drowning. Soon Valentin no longer knew if he was holding onto anything, but the entirety of his existence struck him as bizarre.
In this moment, Valentin thought he must be dead.
A sound escaped Valentin’s lips, crooning up and down like the melody of a singing canyon, but the boy had not intended so. Yet, at the trickling silent end of the cry, Valentin’s lungs expanded. The melody continued, outside of his lungs, howling through his ears and reverberating through his head. Without meaning to, Valentin opened his eyes.
Tiny trees of a forest grew larger before him. The shine of a lake flashed, followed by a distant clap of thunder. Valentin was falling. Silver eyes habitually scanned for the characteristic mercurial gleam of his broom, and they spotted a flock of black birds passing over a low cloud below. Ravens, he decided. Everything ached. He wondered if Mikael was awake yet. The trees were growing larger. Who would take care of Greta? That guy from the ball?
Inaudible moan vibrating in the back of his throat, Valentin’s hand reached for his back pocket. Producing a spindly length of wood, the boy moved as if a puppet guided by an invisible hand. His eyes lighted on a soft glint below him, and out breathed the battered syllables of accio. Like a loyal silver grayhound, Valya’s broom sped back to his hand, and he gripped it.
Writhing to climb atop the broomshaft, a scream escaped the boy’s mouth as he saw the trees too close below. A stab in his belly and his arm ripping backwards against the scrape of giant splinters, Valentin crashed headlong through the woods. Tall bough after bough split beneath his velocity until the boy’s body fell upon a wooden pier at the edge of the lake. His spine buckled from the shock and he rolled, rolled, rolled until he lay at the edge of the weathered wooden deck, a mere meter from the water’s edge. From above, pelting hail shifted in and out with waves of rain drops.
The sound of droplets pattering against the lake was all that could be heard.
Open thread.
Last edited by Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood on 12 Sep 2022, 01:40, edited 4 times in total.
22 May 2022, 15:22
Crashed Falcon
"English."
"Italian. Translation."
"Russian."
| Faint scar on left eye |
| Mangled right ear |@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood
Valetin SchnellI hadn't slept last night. And that was not an exaggeration. I had been studying, teaching myself. My Russian was not nearly as rough as it was from two years ago, and so many of my classes that had previously been difficult due to the language barrier were no longer as much of a struggle. That being said, my bunk was on a lower level than most of my classmates, the coveted higher levels reserved for them and their superior advancements being more than a ways away from my own quarters alongside children of younger years.
That had been my choice, and also what I deemed to be proper. Transference here had never been kind, and I knew my place was not with the people that I had accelerated my studies to stand alongside, but those whom I had originally come here with. A giant among the little ones.
And a giant I seemed to be becoming these recent years, despite evidence to the overflowing stating the contrary. I was about six feet tall, towering over most of my other classmates, and certainly a menacing figure over the younger students I most often found myself bunking alongside. Even now, I nod my head back and forth, rubbing my head against the bottom of the mattress of the bunk above me, staring out of the tower's window as I probe once more at my ear, now no longer bloodied or sore, but irrevocably marred. I had elected to let the scars remain. Scars told stories, spoke volumes of where you had gone, who you were and what had happened. It was a mark left by my brother's cat, one of the few things it seemed that I would have left of him if our relationship never returned to its former state.
The smell of ozone was in the air, an electrifying scent that differed greatly from my younger experiences in the Mediterranean. There, the scent of an incoming tropical storm smelled of earth and ozone, the richness of the grasses and olive trees mixing with the less natural scents of manmade roads and buildings that resulted in a usually wooden or stone-scented atmosphere. Here, where there was no Muggle civilization for miles around, surrounded by ice, snow, and woods, the ozone was biting; sharp, as if the frigid air itself could cut your lungs and nose from the inside.
It was the smell of a storm, alright. Durmstrang would feel the tempestuous delights of Stribolg today. I was not completely convinced of the existence of the wind spirit... But did couldn't deny that there was something significantly otherworldly about the grounds of Durmstrang, even for the norms of the magical world. It was something I had briefly tried to study, to no avail of course.
The sound of the great groaning doors of Durnstrang opening and closing shook me from my stupor, as I focused just in time to witness a blur of white against darkened treeline vanish into the clouds. An ominous boom of thunder resonated, and in an instant I threw myself out of my bunk, storming across the room as I snagged my Moontrimmer propped against my personal things, now garnering for itself a thin sheen of dust from disuse.
I was a broom racer. Former Quidditch player. Whoever had the gall to try and fly this early in the morning with a storm on the way and not expect to have something unfortunate happen to them were of the same mind as my twin; reckless, or else desperate.
I threw on my red and black cloak and snagged my wand in the same movement as I made for the tower window. Behind me, some of the younger years stirred, and I paused, looking back for a moment. Some were scared of thunder.
I would have to come back before the worst of the weather started.
Swinging my legs through the window as I began to squeeze my broad shoulders through, I took one last glance around the room, a few pairs of eyes that looked sleepily at me. Fixing them all with a firm gaze, I made them a promise. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Go back to sleep, little ones."
And with that, I slipped down and out of sight, rising up a moment later on my Moontrimmer to make after the same direction as the foolhardy individual who had flown into the eyes of the Stribolg.
Rain came hissing in sideways as I flew above the treeline, my feet skimming the higher branches of pines and weedy trees. I was not a graceful flier, as my consistent bobbing and swaying gave testament to. However, my bulky frame cut through the incoming winds and gales, my grip firm as I cut a path through the tempest. My eyes were squinted shut, and my cheeks stung from rain and needling winds.| Ω |
Find that silvery streak. Find that godforsaken fool.
Shouting in this weather would be of little use, ripped from me and lost to the howling storm. I was flying almost completely blind, battered by the differing fronts and airstreams. I couldn't fight these winds forever. Eventually I would lose strength, and when I did, I would fall as gracelessly as I flew.
Lightning crackles just to my right, brilliant electric blue which outshine my own eyes. With a shout, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the black spots which the plasma had left in my sights. Blinking to restore my sights, I wiped away my bangs plastered to my forehead.
Shaking my head, I scan once more, the storm now abating as quickly as it had begun to resolve itself into a slow, stubborn misting with fatter raindrops pattering on the earth and trees just below. A low rumble growled in the near distance, letting itself be known that its play was far from over.
I was near the lake, and I finally let my grips loosen slightly as I casually cruised overhead, trying to regain my bearings and wipe my face clean of rain.
There was a scar in the treeline, a strange path of broken branches and snapped boughs that looked recent. If anything had been taught to me about surviving in these sorts of climates, such markers indicated something alive, and something that either had no control during their descent through foliage, or who hadn't been careful while doing so.
Could this be my quarry?
Banking right, I follow the trees to the lake, my scarlet cloak heavily flapping behind me from its water weight. Spotting the lake, and the pier extending over it, a conspicuous splash of snow white against the wood grain caused me to stoop carefully and take a closer look.
The closer I came, the more my mind and heart spiked with recognition and immediate worry.
It was Valetin, our Seeker and my teammate. Though I had not stayed with Quidditch long, I had taken many a Bludger for him, as I had been hurt less than he by their hard impacts.
I swooped to the land by the edge of the pier, leaping off the Moontrimmer and letting it skid to a stop nearby. I could retrieve it later. The Niffler in danger of falling into freezing water was more pressing than the well being of a replaceable broom.
Carefully but quickly, I ran down the pier, hooking both of my arms under his armpits and hefting him upright and into my chest. Perhaps not as delicate as I could have been, but I was desperate. Adjusting my hold with one hand under his thighs and the other arm wrapped around his back in a "burping" position, I very quickly carried him back to dry land and lay him back out. I don't know the extent of his injuries yet.
I don't even know if he's breathing.
Check the pulse with one hand, check for breathing with the back of my other to his nose and mouth. Scan for immediate open wounds that could cause him to bleed out. Blood on my hands. Wound somewhere. Maybe from his hands? No, stomach. Stab wound. Nothing in it. Not a good sign. Find something to staunch it with.
I roll him to his side, using a parting movement with my hands to scan for lacerations and cuts. Small scratches from the trees, some larger ones, but not deep... Except for a large red splotch on his stomach...
Focus on that in just a second. Put him into the recovery position so he can breathe without obstruction. Maybe some ribs broken, maybe internal bleeding? I shouldn't move him too much more unless to evacuate him. No burns.
Is he responsive?
"Valetin, can you hear me?" I speak softly while continuing my immediate care. "Valetin, you have to wake up. You had a bad fall and you are hurt. We are by the lake, a ways from the castle. What is the name of the school we go to?" I have to know how lucid he is.
He is underdressed for the cold. Pale skin didn't help, albinism sometimes lessened one's immune system, and with Niffler's lean frame, cold was likely to affect him more than it would me.
"Dammit." I unclasp my cloak and angle my wand at it. "Aer Calidus."
A warm gust of wind immediately dries my cloak, turning it soft and warm. In a beat, that scarlet and black furred cloak is wrapped around Valetin tightly, as my strong hands begin to rub him down to warm him up, ever careful of the red of his stomach. I press harder there, trying to stop the worst of the bleed. I don't shiver in the cold and wet, my brow furrowed as I care to my teammate and classmate. Maybe even friend, if I wasn't so introverted.
"Stay with me. Can you hear me, Valetin?" Keep rubbing, keep that warmth going. I plan on casting Periculum soon... But I have to know if the Niffler will be alright for long enough to let me do so.
"Valetin.
Valetin!"Stats:
Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 13 | Accuracy 12 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 0Abilities:
Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist | Martial Artist
Last edited by Piérre Marchonné on 11 Jun 2022, 23:27, edited 1 time in total.
22 May 2022, 21:57
Crashed Falcon
Valentin lay motionless as Romeo’s moontrimmer skidded to the ground and the red-cloaked boy ran to his side. Careful as he was, when Romeo hefted Valentin’s lightweight body up onto his chest he felt the vibration of the boy’s back snapping as a loud crack rang out. It wasn’t as if stretchers grew on the trees by the lakeside. Like a little shattered bird made of ice, the touch of Valentin’s frost-licked skin would drain warmth from the larger boy’s body. As pale as the albino usually was, the striking pallor of his skin glowed abnormally white under the shade of heavy branches groaning above. Ruby streams of blood contrasted bright against the snowy skin, with droplets pelting the earth in syncopated rhythm with the rain and sleet falling from the sky.
Laying the boy back out on dry ground, Romeo would find Valentin’s long-fingered hand was coiled around the cloth at Romeo’s neck before it fell away with its shift against gravity. Checking one pale wrist, Romeo would find a fierce but irregular pulse; so thin was Valentin that the pulse was visible thrumming the skin at the base of his hand. With his other hand, Romeo could not feel any sign of breathing. Both of Romeo’s hands soon bore a smattering of blood, while his left hand dripped with the slow trickle of crimson. Examining the boy’s torso was easy due to his topless condition, and a large stab wound in his stomach gushed in timing with the boy’s chaotic pulse. With his standard-issue Durmstrang pants and little else to cover him, he looked as if he had made no preparations before rolling directly out of bed and climbing into the extreme cold of the atmosphere. He didn’t even have boots on, and his long-toed feet were blue with textbook indications of severe frostbite. Valentin’s arms were in less severe condition, fingertips deep red with frostnip and arms lacerated at multiple angles from their efforts to protect the boy during his fall.
As Romeo rolled Valentin on his side, an unhappy crunch from the boy’s back rattled out. Large gashes on his backside told of the trees’ resistance against his destructive fall. Returning him to his back, Romeo thoughtfully restored the boy’s airway. If he were to check again, he would begin to feel shallow, gurgled breathing through Valentin’s bloodied, parted lips. The boy’s ribs did not look entirely even, and further consideration would bring to mind a concern for an internally punctured lung. A bizarre, lightning-shaped scar arced blood-red around his right arm and over the top of his right pectorals, a true Lichtenberg figure.
Durmstrang students were taught survival skills from their very first year, and Romeo would show that he had retained important details from his study of wilderness medicine. Trying to ascertain if Valentin was in any way responsive, Romeo began to speak to him in Valentin’s native Russian tongue.
"Valetin, can you hear me? Valetin, you have to wake up. You had a bad fall and you are hurt. We are by the lake, a ways from the castle. What is the name of the school we go to?"Degree of Valentin's consciousness
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 10
Valentin’s eyes opened. His head was angled up at a wayward-leaning branch above them, and without moving his head, Valentin’s eyes darted down towards Romeo. The pale boy’s chest began to puff in and out with greater speed, body summoning strength from its deepest reserve in order to respond despite its overwhelming devastation.
“R-Rrr… mm… Wh… Rrmm…”Impairment to Valentin's ability to communicate
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 9
Valentin’s eyes welled up with tears. He was too weak to suppress them, and they slid down both sides of his face with a silvery sheen. Romeo angled his wand to warm and dry his cloak, wrapping it around the shattered seeker as he lay still. Valentin’s little white nose flared under the pleasant black fur’s aroma, and his eyes glimmered back at the other boy, all silver and violet.
Indeed, the seeker’s argentine, keen eyes-- Valentin’s most valuable physical possession-- were almost entirely filled with iris, their pupils reduced to an unnerving pinprick size. Though looking directly at him, the other boy’s cyan eyes, luminous in the natural light, were lost on Valentin. The seeker was now completely and utterly blind. Like glaciers in record heat, Valentin’s eyes gushed without pause.Are his eyes injured?
t!choose yes | no
Yes
Degree of eye injury severity
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 10
"Stay with me. Can you hear me, Valetin?"
“Rmmm… mmmm…” creaked Valentin’s throat.
Romeo’s strong hands went to work, trying to warm the boy back up while avoiding his belly wound. The icy pallor of Valentin’s skin began to glow slightly pink as capillary flow returned, though the deep chill entering Romeo’s hands in exchange would begin to slow his ability to move fingers nimbly. When Romeo attempted to staunch the bleeding in Valentin’s belly with his bare hands, he would finally feel the only palpable source of warmth, blood pumping from Valentin’s heart out into the frigid environment.
Eyes wincing with dire struggle and pain, Valentin’s lightning-scarred arm reached up for the other boy. Long white fingers extended out, their wrist twisting in the characteristic dance they wove when reaching for the snitch during the final moments of a match. Valentin’s eyes looked directly into Romeo’s, but there was an alarmed uncertainty there, as if Valentin were looking straight through the cyan orbs and past him into the distance. At last, Valentin’s fingers found their tremulous grip at the skin of Romeo’s neck.
Then, with a moaning snap, a tree branch above split off and crashed into the lake, only 2 meters away [t!dice 1d10: 6]. The canopy above them was not safe after the devastation Valentin’s crash had wrought. At any moment, more branches might collapse.
“Mmsshha...” whimpered the boy. “Rmmemmhh…”
Valentin’s breathing accelerated, streaming more blood out of his mouth as his eyes widened in fear. Ravens began to crow loudly from the perimeter of the lake, hopping from branch to branch with the occasional jab of a beak at one another.
Open for all interactions. Internally consistent godmodding of Valentin’s body is welcome. He’s really not in a position to resist. Any Durmstrang character may enter this open thread.
Abilities: Keen Eye, Evasive Maneuvers, Charmer
Stats: STA 8 ★ EVA 10 ★ STR 2 ★ WIS 15 ★ ARC 1 ★ ACC 11
Last edited by Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood on 24 May 2022, 06:24, edited 1 time in total.
23 May 2022, 23:44
Crashed Falcon
"Italian. Translation."
"Russian."
| Mangled right ear |@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood
Valetin SchnellThis was both better and worse than I could have imagined. There were so many things going on in the storm which had now decided to make its return, but somehow these distractions became more of a blur in the background compared to the immediate care of the severely injured albino Valetin before me. I didn't have time to worry about the things going on around me. I had to focus on the things going on in front of me.
Valetin had responded to my words, albeit slowly and without clarity as he had stirred and began to fuss; that had been a little good. It meant that he was verbal. Had he been trying to say my name? No. None of that. "Do not struggle. I do not want you hurting yourself more. Stay calm. We are going to be alright." Keep speaking soft and low, not a difficult task for my natural dulcet baritone. This had been part of the reason why my hand had been so firm in warming him. Like caring for an animal, letting a person move or be in distress when injured caused more injury to themselves than help. The same reason why I had held my twin relentlessly at the Midspring Celebration.
So many broken or misaligned bones, judging by the cracks and snaps I had heard even in my brief carry. This was my main concern. So much blood; stomach, mouth, internal... I needed more then pressure... I needed a bandage. How did wizards manage to survive such things as this so easily compared to Muggles? We're we mundane folk... Valetin may have been dead already.
Hand shaking, I try to recall the spells I know. We had been learning the bandaging charm... But so far the proper casting of it had eluded me. My bandages never turned out like bandages, more like ribbon or cord. I think that if I even tried to cast it now that it would backfire on me immediately. I had to make do with the next best thing; the Muggle way. Not perfect, but good for now... If only I could Apperate... Get us back to the castle immediately. All I could do instead was keep applying pressure, try to keep as much blood on the inside as possible while waiting for further help.
Valetin's eyes were beginning to water, tears dripping down his cheeks at an swift rate. They did not look healthy either. Too dilated, too misty and unfocused on me leaning right over him. Had he scratched his cornea or maybe had a concussion which impaired his sight?
Valetin's arm left the cloak, weaving this way and that as he reached for me. His hand seemed lost for a brief while, blindly grasping at air, before snaking behind my neck and twisting into the hair at my nape. My heart catches in my throat at the small action, so simple and desperate, and a tight lump begins to form as I begin to croak out my words.
"Hey... Don't cry... My hand covers his for a moment before carefully wiping away the tears from his cheeks with a thumb, ignorant of the ones slowly beginning to drip down my own in an unsettling empathic reaction that one may have thought to be more suited to Piérre than myself. They are already beginning to freeze. "You're going to give yourself worse frostbite."
I didn't like the idea of perhaps blinding him entirely, but I had to protect what function, if any, he had left for his eyesight. As any good medical attendant should, I told him exactly what was going to happen. "Valentin, I'm going to blindfold you to protect your eyes. We will be able to help you more when we go back to the castle. Obscuro." WDC 10 d20(14) + 8 = 22 (auto-hit)
A black blindfold leaps from my wand and swiftly wraps about Valetin's tearful eyes. That should at least prevent his eyes from taking unnecessary light damage if they are hypersensitive, or prevent Valetin from attempting to mess with his eyes in his inability to see; a panic that most people who had sight may have had a propensity towards if they had suddenly lost their vision without warning.
I braced against an especially hard gust of wind mixed with sleet and stinging rain, one that boxed me over the ears and finally made me feel the chill through my uniform. My hands were slowly turning red, even with the bruises and cracked knuckles of my hands in mind. Frost was beginning to form in my hair, turning the tips of my usually russet hair a silvery blue with its layering.
Shielding my face with a shivering hand, I look back down at Valetin, now noticing a myriad of scars all down his back. Markings that although easy for Magic to cover or erase, had been left to be borne. The largest of them was a scar that I saw on his arm now, a large, angry red marking in the distinctive forked pattern of a bolt of lightning. An electrical burn that I had missed when he had been on his side.
Had he been in the clouds? That brilliant blue lightning that had struck nearby...
Another crackling overhead, a crack, and a bough from near overhead cam splashing down into the lake and causing Valetin to let out another cry. Tilting my head to the skies, I see that the foliage overhead will not stay where it is for long. Teeth bared in human defiance against the hand of god, I howl back at the storm with all the force I can muster. "STRIBOLG!" My right hand, wand pointed, arcs straight upwards as the scream of a spell bubbles through me. "Periculum!"
Vermilion leaps from the engraved yew in a beam of blinding light over a meter in diameter, crackling with arcane as it cuts through the boughs of the unsteady trees like a flare at the dark of the witching hour. If Valetin hadn't been blindfolded already he may have gone blind from this alone. I have never had an aptitude for a powerful cast, but desperation and fury mingle in this moment to coalesce into a beacon of need, lighting the horizon like a false sunrise. The castle had to see it. They just had to.Power of Periculum (d10]; 9
Jaw set with determination as the wind blows my clothes and hair back and forth, I straddle Valetin, hunkering down to shield Valetin's frail body with my whipping boy frame, offering warmth, protecting him from further falling branches. My wand points outwards, at the ready to fire a Knockback Jinx if one came too close for comfort.
"We will make it, Schnell, I swear it. Or else I will die trying."Stats:
Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 13 | Accuracy 12 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 0Abilities:
Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist | Martial Artist
24 May 2022, 05:27
Crashed Falcon
In Russian.
Valentin’s every nerve buzzed with intense sensitivity. Every noise, every touch, and every smell amplified in the process of dying, Valentin had never felt so alive. The caws of the ravens and the clacking of their beaks ripped through the boy’s mind with exquisite novelty, as if he had never heard such a sound before. Over their cries predominated Romeo’s steady, warm voice from above, electrifying Valentin’s brain circuits as memories sizzled in contact with the lucidity of the present. The directionality of the winds bearing the scents of stormy air, resinous splintered wood, and fur whispered to Valentin where he was in relation to the rest of the world. Though the crystalline sight that once drove Valentin’s most passionate pursuits had sunk into complete darkness, the world had never seemed as real as now. Fingertips coiling into warm waves of hair and the wall of skin at the base of the other boy’s neck, time dilated with the influx of sensation. Blind eyes stretched wider as if to better take it all in as they wept.
"Hey... Don't cry..." The emotion in Romeo’s voice poured through Valentin as the albino’s empathetic response overloaded. A hand covered his own, shocking like the neon blue of the lightning, mesmerizing, and in that moment Valentin could no longer distinguish between Romeo’s pain and his own. A warm thumb pushed the seeker’s tears away, and through his blindness Valentin did not anticipate the splash of an escaped teardrop rolling off Romeo’s chin onto his own snowy cheek. "You're going to give yourself worse frostbite." From somewhere inside, the curl of a smile snuck out into the corners of Valentin’s eyes, and then his mouth. Somehow, he was profoundly, utterly happy. Taking in a deep gust of cold air, Valentin wondered if he would now die. A soft line of music threaded its way to the forefront of the boy’s mind…
… and with it came an echo in time, words from moments ago, or were they real, now, here with the music?
"Valetin, you have to wake up... Stay with me… Valetin.
Valetin!"
Through his hand at Romeo’s neck, Valentin felt a pulse. Was it his own, or was it Romeo’s? Valentin’s eyes squinted in wordless thought, the entirety of his focus fixating on the steady beat as it moved with the music beginning to whirl through his head.
"Valentin, I'm going to blindfold you to protect your eyes,” continued the baritone. “Obscuro." With a swirl of air currents, a blindfold slithered itself around Valentin’s eyes. With the cloth’s fluttering magical touch, Valentin’s vision lit up with an explosion of butterflies, wings rimmed with dazzling neon ebbing in and out of existence:
Reducio
Does Valentin get hurt from interacting with the Charles Bonnet hallucination?
t!choose yes | no
Yes
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 2
Does Valentin get hurt from interacting with the Charles Bonnet hallucination?
t!choose yes | no
Yes
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 2
Alarmed and dazzled, Valentin’s hands moved themselves to his eyes reflexively, heedless of Romeo’s warning. Feeling the cloth in his fingers, the hallucination vanished, leaving Valentin’s eyes stinging from the perturbance and filled with black once more as the music fell silent. The cloth protected his eyes from the worst of the glancing blow of his shivering hands. With a painful contraction in his chest, Valentin realized that he had been seeing things. A pang of regret punched his gut as he understood that Romeo had been trying to prevent this.
Sleet-filled air gusted against the pair and Valentin noticed the way Romeo’s body partially blocked the sound of the gale around them. With the movement of Romeo’s arm audible against the wind, Valentin sensed that Romeo was examining something. Blind to the telltale Lichtenberg figure on his own arm, Valentin only knew that it burned and ached together with those few other parts of his body that had not fallen numb from frostbite.
With the crackling of the branch breaking off above, Valentin shrunk with the fear of if being lightning again, about to consume him. The splash of it into the lake and Romeo’s cry against the might of the wind god banished the thought as Valentin realized the true nature of the threat. Listening to the sound of Romeo moving against the wind, followed by his scream for Periculum, Valentin’s body heaved with contraction, startled. He had never heard the boy scream like that before. It was both beautiful and frightening, raw soul spewing from Romeo’s mouth as a roar of red sparks shot through the canopy into the sky above. A cascade of leaves fell from the disturbance, with a small scorched remnant drifting down onto Valentin’s forehead.
Reducio
Does the tree canopy destabilize from Periculum shooting through it?
t!choose yes | no
No.
t!choose yes | no
No.
Desperate as he was, Romeo’s aim was true to his goal and did not further aggravate the creaking branches above.
The gale continued, however, battering with its unpredictable swells and screaming through the tangled treetop like a wrathful banshee. Valentin, who had recovered by Romeo’s hand to the point of being able to shiver again, shook quietly as his eyes searched the perfect darkness for him. Then, as if in answer, warmth flooded all around him as Romeo hunkered down to shield the broken seeker.
Reducio
State of Valentin's vocal capabilities now
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 6
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 6
"We will make it, Schnell, I swear it. Or else I will die trying."
Romeo’s efforts were partially succeeding. Substantially warmer, Valentin’s vocal cords now bent to his will.
“Rrommeo…” whispered Valentin, smiling with enough warmth to outrival the morning sun. His eyes half closed with appreciation as he thought to himself how far Romeo’s Russian skills had come. How else had the boy grown during their time apart? Was his still the pure, valiant heart from quidditch battles long ago, or had he contracted the same dark streak as Mikael and Yefim in the wake of their defeat? Opening up his silver and amethyst gaze and staring up through Romeo’s cyan eyes, Valentin’s soul searched the blackness. For a moment, he thought he could see Romeo’s face, glowing from within like a firefly in the dark. Pain ripped through Valentin’s right arm as it lifted, lightning scar burning like a moth closing in on a flame. This time, his hand did not have far to seek. Valentin’s lithe white fingers landed like a bird onto the nest of hair at the side of Romeo’s face. Through their reddened fingertips, searching, he could feel the frost forming along the fringe closest to Romeo’s jaw.
“Hey...”
Valentin's fingers curled around strands of hair as he revelled in their shape and texture.
“I diddn’t... know y-you were sss...” whispered Valentin until interrupted by a sensation of thrumming in his chest. His heart was accelerating without him. The smile fell from Valentin’s lips as he felt like he had missed a train. Reality was slipping, becoming disjointed. It felt like his speed was splitting away from that of existence. Valentin’s hand fell away from Romeo’s face, his grasp of the golden snidget faltering as it fluttered away into the black. Blood continued gushing from the wound in Valentin’s side and the diamond-sharp perception that had been thrilling him faded fast at the edges. It felt like falling.Current severity of belly wound
t!dice 1d10
In the end, the result was: 10
“Romeo...” he thought he said, or perhaps it had only come out in his head. He couldn’t feel anything anymore except for the pocket of warmth hovering above him. “D-don’t let me go…”
24 May 2022, 15:21
Crashed Falcon
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Charles laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Unable to close his eyes, to allow sleep to take him and dreams to circulate within his mind.
Tucking his right hand behind his head, blonde hair spewed out. The blonde inhaled, eyes twinkling above, he exhaled casting an gaze around. Another's sleep soundly in their beds, the blonde looked above. Darkness. He exhaled as he placed his other hand behind his bed, desperately trying to sleep.
The blonde let out an soft audible gasp, covering his eyes with his arms. Shutting them tightly trying to rest his mind. Go ease his senses. Except he couldn't... he couldn't find sleep... his mind felt active... restless... he never had an problem with sleep before and wondered whay could be the cause of tonight...
Charles peered through his fingers, eyes upon the ceiling. Mind thinking of his brother, their family... his place in the setting... Turning his head on the pillow as he thought of Haley, wondering if he truly is helping her or is he destroying her innocence like his family did him... Cassie's words in his mind....
Charles goaned a little as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Knowing well that if he couldn't sleep then he could work out, pratice. Pulling himself from the bed, carefully tip toeing around to keep from waking others. Replacing his pajamas with a set of black attire. Black jeans, shirt, and leather jacket paired with partly clean trainers, tied neatly.
The blonde maneuvered around beds ans fallen items, taking care to stay as silent as possible to refrain from being responsible of waking another. Slipping from the dorm, Charles swept through tje corriors. Stretching his arms as he walked, pacing slowly increased as his mind escalated with thoughts on his brother, Cassie, Haley....
Charles bit his bottle lip, exhaling a bit much as he rolled his neck on his shoulders. Stretching his arms as he speed walked for the grounds, with each passing thought his breathing escalated until he reached the outdoors. His chest felt tight, he doubled over, placing a hand over his chest. Holdimg it firmly as hw took exasperated breaths. Trying to caom himself as he looked up and softly screamed, exhaling as he inhaled a breath to calm himself. To soothe himself.
Lasting a few minutes. Charles stood up, casting an gaze around. Ensuring that he is alone before finding an path and started to jog, the movement of his legs and body to keep up with the movement of his mind. Running. Looking for peace.
A flash of white sent through the sky. The droplets of water fell in rhyme to the thunder, pushing back his wet hair. No desire to escape the rain, the flash of light or cracks of thunder as he ran on.
So, lost in his thoughts that he nearly passed them if it wasn't for the falling series of red sparks that he followed to an canopy of trees, drawing close and saw two figures... one is the seeker of the quidditch team, Valentin Schnell ans Charles might loathe this school but he did care for those on the team.
Coming to an halt, Charles slowly apporched. His eyes darted from the fallen seeker to the durmstrang he recognized as someone in his year. Charles quickly found a place besides the seeker, kneeling down as he eyed his state before looking up, toward Romeo as he questioned"what the hell happened here? To Schnell?" Charles looked back at the lad, he seemed to be in a state of injury.... of harm... of an experience no one wishes for.
Charles caught the blindfold around the seeker's eyes, the blonde looked towsrd Romeo as he asked"what the hell is with the blindfold? Is his eyes injured?" Mind racing... could he still see... were they disfigured or injured beyond repair... his breathing escalated, chest felt tight as he held his right arm over his chest, rubbing fimely to soothe himself before looking back at Valentin.
He never have been good or well experienced in magic, he was decent enough to pass. Most of his spells onlt sparked or flicker before fading away, that is if he was lucky enough to not experience the routine backfire of his spells. Pulling his wand from an interior jacket, gaze resting on the team mate who needs help...
Charles aimed his wand, trembling slightly in his grip. Eyes darted at Romeo before away, clearing his throat as he gripped his wand firmly. Not wanting to show his weakness... his moment of doubt...
"I'm here to help, to help Romeo but you need to stay alive," Charles spoke, focusing on need in his words. Valentin was- is their star seeker and they couldn't lose him... how would they manage in games... already short in team because of the newly popularity of the other two sports. Charles would lightly tap Valentin's right arm with the tip of his wand, clearing his throat as he muttered, "episkey." A healing spell that he read a bit on once and watch others use but never attempt himself.
WDC: 12
Wis: [d20:19]+4=23, auto hit
Charles would be taken back when the spell worked, watching it twirl around Valentin's right arm. Sending an layer of warmth for the right arm only.
Charles would lean across, eyes on the injured team mate. He took a breath, hoped for the same success to partly stabilize the lad so he could have enough breaths for the trip to the infirmary... the blonde couldn't watch another die, especially a team mate as he tap his wand to Valentin's left arm and lightly muttered"episkey."
Wis: [d20:10]+4=14, auto hit
Another string of warmth, this time wrapping around the seeker's left arm only. Charles hoped that helping his arms would stabilize him until they reached the infirmary, Charles would turn toward Romeo. Slipping his wand into his jacket pocket. Eyes on Romeo.
"How can I help?"
Abilities: lovely creature, evasion maneuver, obnoxiously strong
Stats: Stamina: 7| Evasion: 10| Strength: 12| Wisdom: 4| Arcpower: 5| Accuracy: 11
"There's no such thing as strange creatures, only blinked people" - Newt Scamander
26 May 2022, 00:39
Crashed Falcon
Trigger Warning: Grave injury
Charles’s spells coiled successfully around each of Valentin’s arms, one at a time, smoothing out their open gashes into smooth porcelain skin. The scarlet lightning burn shrank around its edges and eased into a faded maroon at it severe core. Yet, the boy’s belly wound continued to gush just as severely [10/10] with each sporadic heartbeat until… it stopped. The trickle of red creeping away from the massive accumulated pool of blood, having thoroughly saturated the side of Romeo’s cloak, slowed until motionless.
Black cloth hid the expression from Valentin’s eyes as his blood-lined lips parted. The boy’s breath struggled, jagged, against the collapse of his chest until it bottomed out. The subtle throbbing of his heartbeat through the mass of fur fell still as a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Neither pulse nor breathing could be found as Valentin lie there, warm yet frozen.
In this moment, even the ravens were silent. The winds ceased, and the horizon gave way to a blinding red sunrise as the thunderclouds shrank into the distance. A gigantic high cloud darkened the ground as it passed, silently dropping flakes of pure snow onto the boys below.
Valentin's fallen right hand clutched upwards as if still reaching out, seeking.
29 May 2022, 03:00
Crashed Falcon
"Italian. Translation."
"Russian."
| Mangled right ear |Charles Alluring & Valetin Schnell
@Henry Knight & @Aida Mórsgor-Ama EllwoodAs Valetin tried to go for his eyes, I watched closely, ready to interfere if he hurt himself too much. Fortunately, the cold worked in my favor for once, and his lithe fingers did not succeed in harming his delicate eyes so coveted by any Seeker of any repute. We would fix him up. He would nor suffer any long term consequences of these terrible events. I would never forgive myself if he did. Too many shortcomings in too close of a timeline.
When would the disastrous failures relent?
Hunkered down over Valetin, I start reciting rules of winter survival in my mind. Hypothermia occurs when the body's core temperature lowers to a point to which internal organs can no longer function properly. A few fractions of a degree will not hurt you initially... But after one or two you feel the effects immediately; uncontrollable shivering, loss of clear thought, impaired judgement. A few degrees more and you may become unable to shiver, you may feel warm, and further impairment to decision-making is evident. Longer, and Unconsciousness sets in, vital signs slow and become hard to read. Just a little more... And death can be declared.
Neither of us are dressed properly. My fingertips and nails are beginning to garner signs of frostbite, and though Valetin is being kept relatively warm because of my cloak, it won't last forever. And not with that wound.
A cold hand fluttering its way on my hair and tracing its way to my jaw causes my eyes to flash open from being closed in deep thought. Valetin smiles up at me, as if it were the happiest day of his life... He's aware... And I'm not sure if that is for the better or the worse.
"Valetin..."
"Rrommeo..."
"Don't talk, Val. Save your strength."
"I d-didn't know you were sss..."
Valetin suddenly seizes, as if suddenly hit by a wave of shock or perhaps the realization that he was likely on the grey precipice of the cusp between life and death. Was I the only thing stopping him from tipping into it?
And my grip was loosening in a fashion not of my control.
I was running out of time and options.
All I could do was place my full hand on the wound despite the deluge of crimson, try to force what little life was left to stay put. Prevent it from draining every last drop. Valetin's hand felt from me, and I feel my heart catch as well, the quiet plea of the pale Seeker beginning to thrash wildly about in my head. A whisper which almost didn't sound real... A faint noise that I could have missed if I had not been paying so intently to Schnell and trying to keep him alive.
"Romeo... Don't let me go."
Don't let him go. Don't... Let go.
"Never." I find myself saying more to myself than to anyone else in particular. I find myself glancing up at the skies every now and again, watching the faint black curls of ash lose themselves in the pale sleet and rain.
Despite myself, I find myself curious as to how long it could take to find our bodies if we did freeze to death, or what either student or staff body would think. Two students in the woods, underdressed, likely having snuck out in the middle of the night.
Suffice to say, I didn't like the sound of the connotations in that light of perspective.
We were both going to live. We were both going to win, just this once. Just this once, I wouldn't make another fatal mistake. I wouldn't ruin another life.
I would not be responsible for a death.
I lower my wand arm and wrap it around Valetin's shoulders and neck, cradling his head carefully as I begin to shiver for the both of us; trying to generate heat for as long as I can.
The snapping of branches off to my side causes me to quickly enter a state of high alert, my eyes flashing cold with the sudden primal reaction towards a possible threat. Lips curling into a snarl, I subtly angle my wand towards the forest edge, ready for an unfair fight. A black shape reveals itself in the treeline.
Blonde hair and sky blue eyes gradually make themselves known, and I feel my hackles rise up as they suddenly run up to me, until they drop to their knees beside me and I finally hear a vaguely familiar voice. A voice of a classmate and another former Quidditch teammate.
"Charles?" I reply softly, feeling a small thrill of hope that my call for help had been answered by at least one more person to help the cause.
Questions, as I had expected, were fired my way in threes. What had happened? My reason for the blindfold? Were his eyes harmed?
Still feeling blood on my hands, I try to find the best way to explain myself as succinctly as possible.
"Valetin took a bad fall. Various cuts, deep gut wound, electrical burn..." I hesitate at the last bit, lowering my voice to Charles alone. "Likely completely blind. For now, anyways. Blindfolding was the best way to protect his eyes a little."
Charles cast a general healing spell to close most of Valetin's wounds, and I let a bit of tensions leave my jaw. At least those wounds would no offer add further complications in the immediate future.
There was still the concern of the most important wound, though, the one that was drinking Valetin's life like a man with spirits.
How could he help?
Despite myself, between the cold, the strain of pressure, the unnerving calmness of Charles, I find my blood pressure rising at the madness of it all. Could he not see that I was trying to hold the life of Schnell with just one hand?!
"For one thing, you could maybe assess the situation with urgency yourself." I snip sharply in English. "A bandaging charm would be very helpful right now." I growl, staring him evenly with cerulean gaze. My fingers curl into the earth around my wand, tearing up the grass. I can already feel anger starting to slowly bubble to the surface, rising steadily as a storm.
Until Valetin suddenly convulsed again, going slack beneath me as a slow trickle of crimson parts his pale lips.
Snow begins to fall.
My immediate focus snaps back to Valetin, as I release my wand and the pressure on his stomach entirely and take his face in both hands, shaking him gently.
"Valetin... Valetin! No! Don't_ You... Schnell!" I move to his shoulders, shaking harder. Panic rises in my throat, tearing through my body as a new threat rises to challenge life. Shock.
Blood loss. Tears force streaks through the crimson on my cheeks. Valetin's crimson. "Val... Schnee?"
My upper lip twitches with stress and misguided anger. Anger at weakness, anger at self. “Non osare morire. Muori e io ti uccido, cazzo! Don't you dare die. Die, and I f-----g kill you!” I bark at the broken Schnell beneath my protective body. We had just began to speak to each other as comrades for the first time since Quidditch.
He was not dying. Not on my watch.
OOC Consent from Val was given for the following
I move quickly, pinching Val's nose with one hand and sweeping his bleeding mouth with the other for immediate obstructions. Taking a deep breath of frozen winter air, I press my lips to his, exhaling deeply, trying to ignore the taste of blood in my mouth. His blood. The fluttering in my chest and the panic in my stomach. One and the same? Perhaps.
After finishing the breath, I bring both hands to his chest and begin to pump at the compaction rhythm. Under my breath, I find myself humming a Muggle song to keep time for the strong, assertive presses of my hands.Efficiency of CPR (d20): 14
My entire arm strains and ripples with the force of each compaction. Against the tiny Valetin's chest, I begin to fear that I am being too rough, too desperate. I could easily break his ribs if I wasn't careful.
Sensing this potential danger, I lighten up my compactions. When finished, I pinch his nose once more, taking a breath for both of us and pressing my lips to his in another exchange of air which would hopefully cause his chest to rise and lungs to fill with air. I exhale a bit longer, trying to give as much air as I can, the scent of snow and iron pervading my remaining senses.Does Romeo break Valetin's ribs? T!choose yes | no: no
Compacting again, I look to Charles, nodding to my Moontrimmer blown against a tree a few meters away. "Find my broom and his. We fly back to the castle as soon as he comes around."
'If he comes around...'
"If he doesn't respond soon," Another kiss of life, "we leave anyways. We cannot stay here much longer." My voice has turned authoritative and stern. One of my kids are hurt.
I was nicknamed Medvesista for a reason.
You don't mess with the mother bear's cubs. Not even God himself should challenge a mother protecting her child.
And especially not Death.Stats:
Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 13 | Accuracy 12 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 0Abilities:
Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist
30 May 2022, 00:01
Crashed Falcon
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Romeo Marchonné. Classmate and former team mate... former was word the blonde didn't favor, former meaning the lad left the team like many for broom racing.
Dropping to his knees, Charles stayed besides Valentin. He couldn't lose another team mate... so many left the team willingly.... he couldn't lose on to an injury or to death... nodding toward Romeo's assessment. Various cuts, deep gut wound, electric burn, and blindness?! Charle felt himself shallow hard, looking up toward his classmate as he spoke"blindness! What the hell do you mean! Romeo, how do you know he's blind!" His chest tighten as his breathing increased, fhe teen rubbed at his chest while inhaling a breath, attempting to calm himself as he looked toward Romeo then his eyes found Valentin. The star seeker.
"He fell, he's injured but he'll he fine... they can cure him! And he'll see again, he will and he'll be catching the snitch! He will be... he will be..." Charles muttered the words softly,
toward Romeo but mainly toward himself... trying to calm himself... to soothe himself... to remind himself thay Valentin will be alright... he will be okay... he'll live... he needed to calm himself in order to help the seeker.
The teen aimed his wand, casting the healing spell upon his arms. Healing the various cuts and frostbite thay covered his arms. Charles moved to touch Valentin, skin ice cold yet warm from the gushing blood... the teen inhaled a breath, trying to control his nerves. The blood continued to spill... the cloth over the seeker's eyes... the boy's skin lighter than usual, drained of color... Charles could feel his eyes burning, stained with the falling droplets of water.
Romeo's voice. The teen snapped his neck up, eyeing the lad. Already attempting to remain calm, to keep his emotions in check as he replied"his arms are no longer thanks to me, why don't you get off your arse and cast yhay bandaging charms," neveres ans emotions were tense in the air that day as a boy's life laid in thr balance.
The teen carefully lifted the fur cloak to clearly present the wound, slipping his wand from his inmer jacket pocket. The blonde lightly tapped the wand to wound, considering using an healing charm but realizing he never used it on a wound this deep... this life threatening... the teen wasn't sure what would happen if he messed up the spell but couldn't risk it as he mattered"ferula."
WDC: 10
Wisdom: [d20:18]+4=22, Success
A bandage fasten itself around Valentin's stomach, over the open flesh and steeping blood. Acting as an clog, to halt the bleeding any further... the boy already lost enough. The blonde looked up toward Romeo as he spoke"you couldn't do that sooner? Niffler could have lost his blood if I didn't arrive when I did." Taking the fur cloak off of Valentin, the teen quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it around Valentin. Zipping the jacket up. Charles then tapped the cloak, cleaning it off blood before wrapping the jacket around the seeker as well. Two items... he hoped that would provide him warmth.. rain dropped down onto his skin...shivering as he slipped his wand behind his right ear for safe keeping now tha his jacket laid on Valentin underneath the cloak.
Valentin tool a turn... tumbling down the hill... crashing... the blonde felt himself reach out, hands trembling upon Valentin's arms.... eyes burning as he brought them down, dropping them to the ground... he watched Romeo perform muggle cpr on Valentin... Charles's chesy tighten, stretched the skin as he felt his breathing escalated.
Rubbing his right hand on his chest, watching... he could help... Reparifor... Epsikey... he could help... fear got the best of him... freezing him in the moment the teen afraid of what could happen... afraid of witnessing death.... afraid of what could happen to Valentin....
The blonde heard Romeo's words, rubbing at his chest with his hand... the teen shallowed hard... an trembling hand reached from his chest to his wand, clearing his throat a couple times. Unable to voice the spell. To find the words. The teen flick his wrist through the air as he muttered"accio."
Is Niffler's broom broken?
[t!choose yes|no: no]
Valentin's broom would fight the wind and rain zooming toward Charles's hand, the blonde would reach above and grip it tightly. Refusing to let the broom go for anything... to give it to anyone... he would hold to his seeker's broom till he awakes... looking around the teen spoke"Romeo! Where is your broom?" His eyes found Romeo then Valentin, still clutching Valentin's broom. Refusing to part it.
"There's no such thing as strange creatures, only blinked people" - Newt Scamander
30 May 2022, 04:32
Crashed Falcon
In Russian.
In English.
In English.
When Valentin was only a toddler, the hellraiser often got himself hurt by constantly running and jumping around. Usually it was his mother, Zinoviya, who would scoop him up to heal his wounds. Yet, as Valya grew, his parents grew busier and busier. Time together became scarce and the boy had to learn how to entertain himself, as well as how to patch himself up when he got hurt. At one point Zinoviya came to suspect that Valentin had developed a habit of getting hurt on purpose, in order to get his parents’ attention, just as he did with thieving their shiny objects. At age 10, Valentin broke his ankle while practicing tightrope walking, but when his mother came to heed his cries this time, she showed no tenderness. Blaming him for manipulating her, she shouted. Valentin protested. In his heart he knew he was not getting hurt for that reason, not directly. He wanted his successful tricks to get their attention, not the injuries. She called him a liar and Valentin began to cry. It wasn’t true, he said-- he was sorry that time he lost her ring, which he had stolen in an effort to get her attention. This was different, he wept. Heart softened by Valentin’s candor, his mother wrapped him up in her arms and healed his ankle as he watched. This was the first moment he thought he might lose her, if she stopped believing him and decided to leave. He begged her then, not to leave. How would he survive if she ever left him, he asked?
Valyusha, she would call him. Valyusha, don’t you know? You are my son, the descendant of Tatars, and we are protected by the Sky Wolf, Kok-Bori [Көк Бөрі]. The blue wolf will come for you if I cannot. Our ancestor was the sole survivor of a war, a boy as old as you are now, and he had neither arms nor legs. Kok-bori came down from the heavens and licked his wounds, healed him, and gave him food and shelter. Don’t worry, little Valyusha. Don’t you worry. That boy grew strong, just as their descendants did, including many great leaders of our people.
Zinoviya wouldn’t come. Valentin’s mother was dead. In death, Valentin finally understood this. While his blood no longer flew through his veins, settling low like a dammed river, their last reserves of oxygen percolated slowly through his brain. He thought he heard his father’s low timbre, calling his name, asking about the snow [German “Schnee”]. No, felt Valentin. His father would not come, either, holed up in some dank prison as he was. They were both out of reach. Why did I have to go up to that thundercloud, taunting the gods with alleged immortality? What did it achieve, and for that matter, what has my life been, what was it all for? Valentin’s once mercurial mind struggled in slow motion against the pitch black tar of the pit he had fallen into. Lungs full of blood and the heaviness of the world, life was too heavy to lift without the beating of Valentin’s heart.
Then, through the dark a glow pulsed into existence, coming down from the sky, howling with red and white chords in synaesthetic music. The light expanded into a blinding flash before fading into the dark. A smaller glow resurfaced. One, two, three, a cerulean radiance burst in and out of existence, brightening each time. As it darkened into a lull, a warm wind rushed in, filling Valentin up through his open lips and crackling like static behind his eyes. The wind came again, raising the boy’s chest as it coursed through him while he tried to focus on the form before him. The glow returned, pulsating into clarity-- two distinct blue orbs like eyes rimmed by the darkness in the texture of black fur. Blood rushing to his head, Valentin felt his eyes blink against the fabric of reality. His mind echoed with messages half-processed, registering with delay like a reflection off a distant canyon wall. It was like a howl, and a growl, and a roar. Unintelligible, like the words of the gods, their meaning was still clear: no, no, this death was not to be. This rage was that of a great beast, massive enough to be taken for a bear, rumbling with power like Fenrir himself... It loomed above him: a dire wolf bristling with back arched in protective fury. Its powerful blue eyes beamed over him with raw force of will, as if saying you will come with me. The great maned head of the wolf bent down and pressed its snout against Valentin’s lips. Silver-amethyst eyes closed and everything shimmered as the breath of life sparked in Valentin’s chest, courting his heart into beating once more. Eyes bursting open, Valentin wanted to reach the wolf, to grasp the ruff of hair around its neck and pull himself out of the mire. Yet, his arms would not move. They no longer existed in this reality, nor did his legs, nor the boy himself. Awakening from his death dream, Valentin’s consciousness surfaced into a world of pain. The wolf was gone, and all was black.
A terrible pain in Valentin’s gut greeted him as his lungs moved under their own power, quietly gurgling up more blood from his punctured lungs. The smell of snow and blood filled the air and a tightness around his stomach indicated that something had changed. Everything was much warmer. Through the occasional gust of air, the subtle musk of wolf fur caught Valentin’s attention. Had it been real? Valentin’s lips still tingled.
"...We leave anyways. We cannot stay here much longer," came Romeo’s voice. Alarmed, Valentin’s breath caught in his throat.
Don’t go! he wanted to say, but the air reversed through Valentin’s lips into inhalation. Trying to move his legs, Valentin found them almost completely paralyzed. Another voice made itself known:
"Accio." It was Charles. Charles Alluring, the fancy-faced boy from Valentin’s team-- one of the exceedingly few who had stuck it out with quidditch after their crushing defeat in London. Valentin’s chest welled with gratitude in knowing he was there, though completely ignorant of all that the blonde had been doing for him. A familiar spiraling sound of wind cut through the bramble towards Charles, and Valentin recognized it immediately. It was the precious silky hiss of the loyal steed that bore the White Seeker through countless hours of meditative practice in his temple of wilderness. The broom had carried the blood, sweat, and tears of training and tournaments, in victory and defeat, into heights of joy and through hours of tortured striving…. Indeed, the broom had just saved Valentin's life when he grasped it moments from instant death. Valentin’s Silver Arrow eagerly raced into Charles’s hands, subtly smoking with incomplete combustion from its quicksilver bristles. The broomshaft itself was blackened at one end but otherwise intact despite having been electrified. Luckily, the broom had long since discharged its latent current into the rain-soaked ground before Charles could retrieve it. The fine craftsmanship of the gleaming work of art had ensured that even after all it went through, there wasn’t a splinter on it. Safe enough to cradle in Charles’s arms, the broom posed no threat and appeared otherwise ready to serve. Valentin relaxed, reassured that the precious artifact rested now in Charles’s trusted hands.
"Romeo! Where is your broom?" came the blonde’s voice. It sounded more panicked than Valentin was used to. Was Charles going to leave, too? Valentin’s mind, confused with blood loss, raced with the fear that they had given up on him and were going to now leave without him. Rolling his hand over once through the snowy dirt, Valentin regained control of his right arm, and then his left. His arms were... somehow… mostly healed. Despite the mental fog, Valentin was desperate to do something. Spells, yes, he would have to cast something. Something to make him see, something that would make his legs move again, just… something. Slowly, with great pain, Valentin’s right hand reached for his wand in the back pocket of his pants.
A small zap jolted his fingers as he withdrew two splintered wand fragments and cast them onto the ground beside him. The [redacted] wand had been his childhood friend since before he knew how to fly. The [redacted] made it easy to bring into music classes and recitals when he practiced classical conducting, thrilled with the risk of waving his wand in front of unsuspecting muggles during surging emotional symphonies. Прощай, мой друг, (Goodbye, my friend) he thought.
Knowing now that he had no magical recourse, Valentin took in controlled breaths as he steeled himself for what he had to do. Had Romeo already gone? A word was at the tip of Valentin’s mind, still trying to claw itself up from his memory of death, but it was all too fuzzy. Lightheaded and desperate, Valentin’s senses swam as he tried to raise himself up with one arm, reaching out with the other. The muscle of his finely-honed seeking arm rippled as it grasped air to the side of Romeo’s head, narrowly missing him.
“Nn...” he began to intone, trying to find the word lost beyond the grave. «Ни… Никогда...» (“Ne… Never...”) Determined, Valentin’s left arm struggled through its thin blood and shook the seeker’s entire body as it rose. Valentin’s chest collided into Romeo’s as his chin found the boy’s shoulder.
«Я иду с тобой. Пожалуйста.» (“I’m going with you. Please.”) Valentin’s wandering arm came down to wrap around Romeo’s neck, but it only grazed it as Valentin’s other arm collapsed. Without far to fall, the Valentin’s white curved back thudded against the earth and sent him into a violent coughing fit. Turning to the side in the hopes of sparing Romeo, Valentin began choking up massive quantities of blood. Agony wracked his chest as he emptied out his punctured lungs, heaving against the stiffly splinting bandages of ferula. Were it not for the bandages, Valentin would have passed out there in another bout of shock, likely dying. Instead, Valentin lay curled up on his side below Romeo and recovered, sucking in gloriously deep draws of the cold air until he could roll onto his back again. Valentin's blindfolded face gazed up, searching the perfect black.
Abilities: Keen Eye, Evasive Maneuvers, Charmer
Stats: STA 8 ★ EVA 10 ★ STR 2 ★ WIS 15 ★ ARC 1 ★ ACC 11
Romeo Marchonné - @Piérre Marchonné
Charles Alluring - @Henry Knight
Last edited by Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood on 23 Jul 2022, 06:23, edited 4 times in total.