Finished L.U.C.A. PV

Valentin perched atop the central eaves over Durmstrang’s main entrance, running his thumb across the tops of a handful of raspberries. They had such a pleasant texture, he told himself. Soft, leathery. Yet, he could hardly hear his own thoughts. A pulse vibrated through the roof beneath the boy as the great doors shut, drawing Valya’s argentium eyes to what stirred below. It was Romeo, finding a position just outside the building. Far too high to jump down to greet his co-captain without breaking himself, Valentin huddled into his cloak against the cold as he slipped the berries into a pouch to focus. Romeo had a plate of food, but he seemed more interested in a finely bound book of blue and gold. Nature’s Nobility, read the title. It must have been part of his heritage research, concluded Valentin. Perhaps the PI hadn’t been enough of an investment, but rather two would finally accomplish the task? Was it that the first needed a better incentive? Scanning the pages with his eagle eyes as Romeo flipped through them, Valentin read along with the Italian, feeling a little better somehow.

Clairmont, Ironwoods, Athanatos, Iadanza… Romeo lingered over the Iadanzas, putting a buttered biscuit in his mouth as he pulled out a red notebook to write in. Didn’t he usually reserve that for medical notes, wondered Val. This topic must really have been important to him. By now, even at great distance, the seeker’s eyes could read his co-captain’s scribbles. Not Cilfaldi, nor Toscani... and apparently not Pacciarette nor Udinesi – all crossed out. Valentin tried to get into Romeo’s mind as to his reasoning, but so much was lost in their silence. Perhaps part of it was the eye color.

As Valentin watched, his mind wandered back to that evening with the fireworks display when he also observed #4’s mannerisms flicker to life. He could almost still see the colors flickering all around, but those days were gone. Valentin now kept his distance when helping, not wanting to take any more credit for his workings than he absolutely had to. It was better this way, he told himself. Wasn’t Valentin’s proper place far away, where he could see everything with his keen eyes in secret, dropping down only when necessary?

Romeo crossed his legs and without even having the angle to see it, Valentin knew his co-captain was making that face again: his thinking face. It was classic. Still, Valentin also knew that book well. He’d even recently looked it over in conjunction with his own matrilineal research. If nothing diverted him, Romeo could easily stumble over certain pages relating to the Schnell line… Still, weren’t there soon pages concerning others in attendance at Durmstrang? Perhaps Romeo would get distracted and not find a reason to bring Valentin’s up later.

The buttered biscuit gone, the seeker wondered if Romeo would forget about the plate of food. It wasn’t as if Durmstrang’s fare had any competition against the Italian’s home cooking, but… was Romeo going through the pages systematically? Couldn’t the food easily distract him just long enough for certain pages to stick together and pass out of his purview? All Valentin could do was watch. He had no intention of intervening and could only hope that luck would be on his side, speeding the Marchonné to the correct, presumably Italian, page.

Still… Romeo put the red notebook down. He wasn’t giving up, was he? He couldn’t. It was just like Romeo said on the tower’s edge, how it was important for him to find himself:

"You say that... but... I don't know where I'm from. Who I'm from."

The rate at which Romeo paged through the book growing faster, Valentin felt like he hadn’t helped enough. Was #4 growing impatient? Didn’t he already have enough to worry about, balancing schoolwork with the needs of not only co-captaining the quidditch team, but also preparations for Hexiwizard?

As Romeo passed a particular page Valentin thought was important, the Italian kept on blithely skimming. It was agonizing. Wait, what about that page? He couldn’t not look. Wait…. What if that page was literally the key to the puzzle, and Valentin just watched it all pass into oblivion?

No, no, Valentin couldn’t just watch indefinitely. At some point he might actually have to get his hands dirty if Romeo was going to find his true calling. Frustration burning inside, Valentin couldn’t sit still anymore. He had to at least ask him to look at the skipped page.

Leaning to the side, Valentin slid down the angled roof until he stood up at the next level’s arch. Making his way progressively from eave to eave this way, the seeker came into range of leaping to the snowy ground. Only meters away now, Valentin looked over at his co-captain’s face. The frost captain didn’t have to talk to him. Romeo was capable enough by himself, and probably didn’t even need the arrogance of Valentin’s meddling. Still, burned the seeker’s mind. What if? What if that is actually the page he needs? We have to try… We have to, Valik.

With a shift of his hips, Valya threw himself down from the roof and landed softly in the snow alongside the building – so quietly it would have been easy for Romeo to not even notice. Yet, Valentin had to ask him to look. Padding lightly through the white until reaching the main entrance, Valentin knocked the snow off his boots to announce himself.

“What about this page?” Bending to slip his fingers into the paper, Valentin’s voice came to Romeo in a near whisper. If only he could have been camouflaged with the snow and mistaken for the mysterious whispers of Stribog instead. Already Valentin began to berate himself for intruding. Surely it would have been safer for everyone if he’d just stayed away.

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint Scar on Left Eye & Mangled Right Ear | \ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm / | Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |

Johannes Sauer, Valentin Schnell & Cielle Johansen
@Astrea Soleil Neptune, @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood & @Ivy Bellamy

So preoccupied with my search through the book and the subsequent marking of names in my book so that I could follow up on them later, it was not until the shining black of Valentin's uniform boots coming into my focused periphery over the edge of the book that I started and jerked my entire head upwards to look to him with widened eyes and an unconscious shifting of the book in my hand forged by more than a few years of feeling the need to hide the things that I read from my fellow classmates (and from my brother more often than not). I watch quietly as he approaches, and then how his hand carefully takes a page in thin fingers while piping up with a quiet suggestion to redirect my attention to a different page. His words almost didn't exist, almost a breath of wind like intuition itself, but I let him turn the page to the place of his interest.

As his fingers flutter on the page, I raise a curious brow as I behold the name: Chiadovini.

I could not lie and say that this was not a curious family, but I also could not say that it was a family on the top of my candidates for guessing at my lineage. Tens of pale eyes look back at me sulkily from the pages, their enchanted animations being that of disinterest and scowling for the most part. Here and there there was a coy lifting of the corner of pale lips, a slightly different styling of their jet black hair, and a different gradient of their silvery-grey eyes. For the most part, however, their expressions bore nothing but distain and visible snideness, chins and noses slightly upturned as the glared disappointedly outwards at their beholder. Certainly this was a distinguished family well-established and tradition-entrenched; their tangled branches attested to that. It was almost an experiment in breeding...

But of course I remembered the name; a name I had first heard just this last month at a Yule Ball... And how they evidently had rumors attached to them that were somehow besmirching the reputations of another strange representative's house that had pulled me aside there. Ah yes, and there was the solo heir of rumor, a very sallow, dark haired man who wore thin lips, short facial hair and no mirth just like many of his predecessors. It was strange, for while his photo held no semblance of amusement, the animated picture raised its chin haughtily the longer I stared before he squared his shoulders back and flicked his pale eyes to the left while simultaneously narrowing them. The crease in his brow deepened as he looked back outwards, black brows knitting in an expression of either frustration or disgust. It was as if even so much as being looked upon perturbed the thumbprint-sized photo of the otherwise handsome man. He looked to be no older than his later thirties.

The longer I looked at him, and as he continued to shift uncomfortably under my scrutiny, I find myself curious as to if those rumors could be true about his alleged patricide, if such an individual who looked so common as anyone else in his family and among the people that I knew, could be something like a heartless murderer and I would never know it. It seemed surreal; unlikely.

"These are the Chiadovini's. I've heard a few rumors about them, the most prominent one being that this one," I tapped the portrait of the single son at the bottom of the tree and the last male of his bloodline labeled 'Leonardo Ricardo Chiadovini', "Was allegedly almost formally prosecuted for the death of his father in the past few years... I don't think anything came with it, though, or it's more than likely we would have heard about it in the news or something." I mused aloud, recalling what I had learned and what I knew about the family from my rather scare research. That Noé certainly didn't lie when he had said that the family liked to stay within its confined and secretive walls. Trying to learn anything about this family was near impossible. "Most commonly known fact about them, though, is that their entire family is made up of seers. Well... their male lineage is, anyways." I sniffed a bit, trying to ignore the cold and the conflicting feelings I had welling inside of me pertaining to if I had the right at all to speak to Valentin after everything that had happened in the last month alone.

I creased my brow. Had I considered that I could have been part of the family? Yes; any family that heralded from Italy was most certainly on my list of names to research... However, I highly doubted that I was a part of the Chiadovini family for a few reasons. "From what I understand, male members of the family that don't possess the gift are disowned or--historically-- otherwise, uh, disposed of. I sense a few logical fallacies based on genetics alone. I'm not a seer for one thing. Two, have you seen how close these branches are? Their genetics are messed. Up. I look nothing like any of them by this point... Silvery grey eyes and black hair and pale skin... More like Dhampirs than humans-- though that is far from being an insult, of course..." I trail off, observing once again how pale and waxy their skin was compared to my own; as if they had never seen the sunlight. No, as if they were living corpses still in motion. I flip the one page back to the originator of the lineage. "This is their patriarch, the one that they trace their first gift to; Leonardo Gian Chiadovini." After allowing Valentin to inspect, I then turn back to the modern day to look upon Leonardo Ricardo Chiadovini; almost a near duplicate of what had to be his multi-great grandfather. I tap his portrait again. "Look how similar they are, almost perfect copies of one another."

I sigh, cracking my knuckles a bit to relieve the pressure in them before I shake out my hands and continue. "But the clincher? The only one who could potentially be a parent of mine is this single son; Leonardo. I somehow doubt that the family--as a collection of refined seers-- wouldn't have foreseen something like that in his future and taken action before he even considered having an affair or engaging in wedlock..." I beheld the almost sad portrait of the heir of the Chiadovinis; the last of his kind. What must it be like, I wondered, to see the future; or at least to have premonitions of it? Was it scary, perhaps, knowing that it was a possibility that your 'freedom to act' were in actually predetermined and that in reality you held no sway over your own destiny. In a family such as this, one that could theoretically punish you for the things you have never even had the inception of a thought of... what kind of life was that? It was... well... "Scary people in my opinion, seers..." I murmured to myself. "Foreseeing the future and the having the capacity of being paranoid over it if it is a future that they fear. Knowing the destinies of those around them before they themselves do." I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. The entire idea of predestination bent my brain in an uncomfortable way that I did not want to believe in. Even if I was told that that was the truth, there was no way that I would accept it.

I simply could not come to grips with it.

No, I couldn't be of that family. There was no way that it could make sense. I buried my face in my hands before wearily trying to bring my tired eyes to reading more of the letters on the pages of these collections of Pureblood lineages.

"I've been trying to use genetics and a theoretical age to determine a most likely family tree as a candidate. I've narrowed it down to a few, but even among these it's hard to make any particular conclusions." I sigh outwardly turning to the page in my notebook where I had put the names of the families I suspected. Perhaps, if I ran through them one by one and started to scrutinize each with an intensity never before seen in a student wasting their life over a foolish mission, something would hit me upside the head like a brick sent from God.

Without raising my eyes, I quietly spoke to Valentin, frightened that I would ruin this moment and chase off my Captain again. After everything that had happened, why did he still want to be around me? Hadn't I done something unforgivable in his eyes? Something that would have caused him to become wary and prefer to stay away as opposed to being "Lied to" again? Maybe I shouldn't say this... but... I felt that I needed to. "How are you doing, Valentin? Are you feeling alright after... everything?"

But that memory from Christmas, before all the Hell that had happened the day after, clung with me. Those eerie words that I could not forget; words in his voice.

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 15 Ω
Ω Accuracy 15 | Wisdom 9 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω

Valya listened closely to each word as Romeo considered the page at their fingertips. Leonardo Ricardo Chiadovini, possible patricide, seers… unwanted male descendants being disposed of. Valentin blinked thrice rapidly. Had his own parents not been such iconoclasts, he would have been “disposed of” at birth as well. It made him sick inside, particularly because the reasoning behind such ruthlessness would seem justified if Valentin didn’t make the sacrifice to fulfill his family duty. Shaking his head to dismiss the thought, the white seeker focused again on Romeo’s hands as the beater cracked his knuckles.

“Seers…” repeated Val. “Yeah, they’re really problematic. I’ve had a lot of readings done because my mother was a big believer in prognostication. Still, the results I’ve gotten are always so confusing. I would hate to see people policing each other based on such hazy, misinterpretable visions. Sounds like injustice in the making. As for destiny itself…”

Valentin looked off into the horizon as memories from last summer washed over him. He was on a boat wearing a pirate captain’s hat, looking up high into the sky with his hands on both hips as he considered Greta’s dangerous question. Indeed, my heart is burning, he had said. Every day I am in flames. Do you believe in destiny, little bird?

“I can’t tolerate the possibility of not being in control of myself,” Val began again, looking back at Romeo beneath the great gates of Durmstrang. “It sounds like an excuse waiting to happen, waving away the effort and dedication it takes to make dreams come true. If one can just blame it on fate, they spare themselves the harsh truth of all the ways they could have achieved victory. I’m a seeker; I can’t afford to blind myself like that. Every day we take risks, and I… I don’t know if it’s fair to you how I’ve dragged you into my affairs. How many times could you have died because of my mistakes and arrogant risk-taking? My greed for riding the edge, for pushing everyone past their limits towards unseen horizons… one day it could really kill someone. What if I put you in danger and you lost your life, and I just blamed it on crossed stars? How could I stand myself, saying it was just bad luck? It disgusts me. I just can’t… No. These are the hands we have to shape our future with, however weak, however strong. Our best tactics are the only way to win. Maybe the auguries, the seer visions, the cards can open our minds to possibilities we hadn’t considered, but that’s all they’re good for to me. We’re going to find the truth of your heritage, Romeo, because I’ll do anything to make your dreams come true. Ah...”

Val’s hand shot to the back of his neck as he whipped his face away, blushing rose red. Чёрт. Russian: Shit. A pair of ravens in the distance played in a tree, diving at each other and cawing. Were they the same ones he’d heard the day he died? He couldn’t tell. He hadn’t spent his time learning the characteristics of individual birds, even though he was sure that, to the birds, their identities were of great importance. Whole microcosms whirled about them in the Durmstrang wilderness as creatures lived out their lives in the forests and fjord lakes, ten thousand mysteries playing out on a stage Valentin remained oblivious to most of his days despite their proximity. “There is so much out there that we tiny humans don’t know, can’t know. We just don’t live long enough, don’t perceive keenly enough, all the details of the true glory of existence. If the seers can glimpse a tiny fragment more, I cheer for them, but even they are such small mortal beings in this complex universe… From the physics of a single fish scale refracting the colors of the rainbow to the crackling might of a storm, we are like children, still only beginning to grasp the truth of it all. Maybe some details of your lineage are lost to time, but to the extent we can figure it out, let’s try.”

Valentin looked down at the leatherbound book in Romeo’s hands, then up into his cerulean eyes. He wanted to put his hand in the boy’s russet hair, but denied himself. I have no right. If I can just see him reach transcendence, that will have to be enough for me. Again Val looked down at the book, eyes picking through the details of each moving portrait, until an intuition struck him.

“Who was that guy you were talking to at the ball? He… looks maybe related to this, the streak in his hair, was he a seer? Italian? What’s his role in this?” Sighing, Valentin laid one long, delicate finger onto the edge of the page. The smell of the book greeted his nose as he took in the texture of the book’s parchment with a stroke of his hand. It wasn’t like the Monster Book of Monsters, revealing its secrets only after a show of affection, but Valentin couldn’t help it. As a physical creature, he “communicated” even with inanimate objects by means of touch. Please, he wordlessly asked the book, knowing it surely could not hear him.

After Romeo responded, he sighed and reopened his notebook to the section where he’d listed top suspects. A moment later, without raising his eyes, the co-captain spoke again so quietly that Valentin turned his gaze from the book to focus on his words.

"How are you doing, Valentin? Are you feeling alright after... everything?"

Valya’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he inadvertently took a step back. He wasn’t used to being asked about his own well-being. Day in, day out, people came to him as the captain, as Durmstrang’s champion, asking advice and venting stress about their own problems or sharing funny stories and invitations for antics, but other Durmstrangians never seemed to doubt that the Frost Captain was forever solid and uncrackable. He couldn’t remember the last time someone at school asked him even such a basic question, let alone…

“A-ahh…” Valentin gulped. What could he say? He felt utterly out of practice for such an exchange, let alone one loaded with the context of what happened over Christmas break. “Wow, I’m really not used to this,” he admitted apologetically. “I’m… more concerned about you. I feel so bad about what happened in Germany, putting you in danger again. Ah, hm, I…” Answer your co-captain, Valik, he chided himself. “I… Honestly, Romeva, I feel terribly guilty. I didn’t have a good enough plan, and some of the losses were avoidable if only I hadn’t been so emotional. I wish… I wish I’d slowed down to talk it over with you first. I was a fool to take things on alone and without a solid strategy, but I was just… Maybe somewhere in my heart I really wanted to believe I could have my family back, or at least a part of it. I’m tired of feeling alone. It hurts. It hurts even more now, since I…” started avoiding seeing you alone after last October.

“I’m strong enough to keep leading the teams, and it will be okay. It’s just… on a personal level, well… it’s not the same. With my room overlooking the ruins of my father’s tower, I feel so alienated from the Estate, like Kazan’s not really my home, but I’m a visitor in my own house. Seeing what became of my childhood home in Germany, I feel like the ties to my family have snapped and I am adrift like a stray balloon. No place feels safe anymore, not even Durmstrang. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore, and even the earth of the pitch feels like it has soaked up so many tears… You know our teams mean everything to me. My friends are really all I feel I have left, even if the gears of everyday life keep turning like they always have, but… there’s a distance between us that feels so wide. People treat me differently now that I’m captain, now that I’m champion. I’ve always been such a happy person, even when times were tough, but I… feel like a lost child. What has it been like for you, in your vagabond life? How do you live, how do you feel? Are you alright, and are you living the life you want?”

Valentin's hand was beginning to shake, so he tucked it into the inner edge of his cloak and sat down beside Romeo, trying to not feel anything but instead feeling the intensity of the moment pour down on him like acid rain.

Reducio

Stats: STA 8 ✦ EVA 14 ✧ STR 2 ✦ WIS 15 ✧ARC 1 ✦ ACC 15 - Ency
Abilities: Keen Eye ✦ Charmer ✧ Evasive Maneuvers ✦ Fearless

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint Scar on Left Eye & Mangled Right Ear | \ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm / | Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |

Johannes Sauer, Valentin Schnell & Cielle Johansen
@Astrea Soleil Neptune, @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood & @Ivy Bellamy

I nodded along with Valentin lightly as he spoke his mind on the topic of seers and divination, closing my eyes as his words ran over me and my attempts to decipher them fully. Despite being enrolled in a class on amateur Divination, I couldn't say that I was doing well in it; it seemed to be the only course that I didn't really have a knack for. Or, as perhaps some Divination teachers would say; "You don't have a refinable third eye." Still, I was passing; that being because I was good enough at being vague with what I 'perceived' in the readings I did attempt. If I was foretelling anything, it wasn't anything of significance nor was it particularly powerful. Powerful enough to get me a median grade, though, which I was satisfied enough with.

Taking another set of deep breaths as I tapped my notebook idly with a finger, I continued to smile as I found myself agreeing more and more with Valentin's words. To me, Divination was no substitute for even as little as believing that you could control your own fate... even so much as using them as a guide was something that I tended to disagree with on a moral and philosophical basis. There was really only one being that really knew the world inside and out that I placed any trust in whatsoever; the lives of those who had lived, were living, and would one day live all the same.

When Valentin cut himself off suddenly, my eyes flicked open as well, sensing the change in his tone quickly as I raised my chin once more to look up at him calmly. Valentin would do anything to make my dreams come true? I watched his hand trail awkwardly to the back of his neck, a gesture I was quite intimately familiar with by my own experiences. A misspeak, did he think? "No more times than I would have accidentally killed myself, I'm sure." I replied with quiet reflection. It was true; more often than not I did throw myself into the fray rather than ended up dragged into it unwillingly. "You wouldn't want to slow down though, I suppose." I smiled wearily, seeing so much of Piérre's own effervescent nature in this hell-chaser. It was so strange, how he seemed so paradoxical in his desires; the need to face life quickly and without fear, rushing at it fearlessly and without hesitation, yet at the same time wanting to slow down just enough to prevent others from trying to rush into their early graves... a grave that Valentin himself didn't seem to adverse to rushing into if it so happened to come for him. "It wouldn't befit you. Not from what I know about you, anyways." Perhaps a little melancholic as I thought about it. I was not fast. Compared to nimble Valentin and swift Piérre, both of which were blessed with energies far beyond their years... I was the slow one, caught in second gear and struggling to turn over the ignition. Stalling out whenever someone rushed on past me, feeling the wind as they passed by and standing solitary in the dust they made in their boundless excitements and need to do the next thing and the next thing during the incessant march forwards in time. "I'm just lucky enough to be keeping up."

And yet those mysterious allures of the universe did appeal to mankind; they always did. The small mysteries, the great ones... the ones that were visible and able to be perceived, and the ones that simply were. The ones that existed simply because it only made sense for them to exist. "Things that can't be seen can certainly still exist." I concurred with Valentin. "Theologians and philosophers have agreed and disagreed on it for centuries. If that's not an indication of existence, that someone has to debate about if you exist or not, I don't know what is. As for this mystery..." My fingers traced the words of the families as I flipped through them again. Bowen, Cadwaller, Silverberry... any name one could dream of located all over Europe. All of their families, all of their heritage laid bare here. And mine--even though I only had the words of an imposter to back my current research--was somewhere here. A "stylish Pureblood", wasn't it? "Small victories. This mystery won't stay a mystery for much longer. We are so close, so close to getting the tips of our fingers on it. If there's one mystery in the universe we can take into our hands, to untangle, I'll make it this one." A bubble of determination boiled at the edge of my words. "This is one mystery that we can solve on our own; we don't need fate to tell us if we can or can't."

It was quiet for a moment--myself still mulling a bit over Valentin's words--before he brought up the 'guy' I was talking to at 'the ball'. 'The ball' I assumed to immediately imply the Sato Ball, that one event that had almost seemed to have been the catalyst rolling into the two days that came immediately afterwards. I squinted my eyes a bit, remembering the encounter as best I could as I tried to recall the exact flow of conversation that we had had. "Truthfully, I have no idea. He simply approached me for no apparent reason." I did think that the encounter altogether had been quite strange to say the least. I had been not terribly unlike a deer in the headlights, as he had said when he first confronted me. Valentin traced the pages of the book with a finger as I continued to think, watching his touch. "I suppose it could be possible... though wizard aging is different, and I don't suppose that it's possible that it could a premature greying..." I mused. Perhaps... "Maybe he was. He also recognized me as an Italian." Just like the imposter, the same way as well. "Saw it in my face and heard it in my accent, he said. Vero. An Aurologist representing the Vero family. He was the one who told me about the Chiadovini debacle at the ball. It was just... it was weird all around. I glanced at the Vero family briefly, I don't suppose it would be an entirely bad idea to check them again."

As I started to carefully turn pages forwards again in pursuit of the Vero family, I surreptitiously tried to spot for the name "Schnell". I knew enough to quite clearly understand that Valentin was of some level of Pureblood origin, at least on his father's side. The legal loopholing of Valentin's rightful inheritance had pointed to that much, and how deeply he was entrenched and generally innately knowledgeable in the ways of the wizarding world only added another layer of confidence to that assessment. It was more of a curiosity, as to if Valentin was in the book; if he was, I was curious as to what his portrait looked like. It was a sort of childish curiosity, a sort of mild intrigue attached to the 'celebrity friend' kind of phenomenon. I could only imagine how strange it would be to see oneself in a book of at least remedial cultural intrigue, let alone in a history book or some other mainstream media.

It sounded a little scary, actually, now that I was thinking of it.

Well on one hand, I was thinking to myself 'I told you so'. When it came to how obvious a risk it had been to even so much as consider going to what reeked of an ambush, let alone going it alone, I couldn't help but facepalm at how quickly Valentin had been willing to leap into danger. Still, I sort of smiled at how surprised he had been by my concern about his health. "I'm just as responsible for your well being as you are for mine and the rest of the teams. That's where there is such a thing as the co-Captain. You couldn't get me to not be concerned about your well-being if you tried." I promised.

Still, I couldn't find the right way to breach the delicate matter that had been Valentin's foolhardiness over Winter Break. I was not going to be the one to lie to him and say that what he had done could simply be blown off. 'Never spare me the truth', he once said to me at a time that seemed so long ago... "What you did was highly dangerous. I don't need to be the one to tell you safely that you did almost die and almost took the two of us with you in the process." My voice turned stern. "If I could prevent you from being in situations that would call upon an action that could define life or death, I would." My eyes softened a bit, though, as I considered the meaning of family, friends, happiness... "But I understand why you would risk it all just to have a taste of it one more time." Of course there were things I wished that I could take back... even as recently as the last year; as recently as my constantly changing and complicating relationship with my own twin. "I'm not... I guess I'm not as attached to people as you are, but I know the feeling of wanting to keep what you love close. Trying to make sure that they don't slip out of your fingers."

I scooted over a bit to make a little more room for Valentin to sit down comfortably by me. I didn't care that my food was going cold. "Being detached... a vagabond... I suppose it makes me jealous of those who have a permanent place of any kind. Kazan was a fever dream to me the first time you let me stay the summer." I chuckled, remembering just how much I had been in awe of the estate and its boundless reaches, the brilliance of the manor, the crystal tower, the forests and the wildlands... "I suppose I live each day assuming that tomorrow will come with whatever it is that comes with it, but that tonight at the worst I have a sleeping bag, a roof over my head, and something to eat." I tipped my head as I continued to scan the 'S' of the book. "Life is life. I have what I have and I don't have what I don't need. I miss what I've lost, but cherish what I gained and what can never be taken from me; memories with family, experience..." I snorted. "My brother, of course." I shake my head. "So... I guess I'm happy right now. It's hard to tell for sure sometimes. I'm not depressed. I'm content. Grateful... and a little bit nervous simply because of all of the new things and situations that I keep finding myself around and in, but hey." I change gears. "Don't change yourself just because people start treating you differently. Roles come and go, people change as they will, and clout will be clout. Don't sell your soul for the public because the second you do is the second they eat you alive and leave you in the wreckage to pick up the pieces they scattered." My voice trailed off at the end, a chill running through me with just the thought of it.

My eyes beheld a calligraphed name--"Schnell"--and the portraits that came with them. Pale blonde hair, blue eyes of all hues from steel to glacier and sapphire. Germanic heritage screamed from the pages, and there were all the names that were there before in other pages of the book; all of them Purebloods, all of them carefully picked out and matched... idyllic for ensuring some level of power on both sides of the arrangement. This... this was an empire of a bloodline. Musicians more often than not, as many portraits held with them their instruments of choice, but with many of the graces of the Chiadovinis save for the lack of variation. While many of these portraits had origins of Southern Germanic status, some odd ones were of different areas; the Swiss Alps, Lichtenstein... The branches were refined but spread.

And there was Valentin at the bottom of the tree, the newest generation produced from a union between one "Hugo Schnell" and "Zinoviya Makarova"; a gorgeous woman with dark hair and the most definite culprit of Valentin's more exotic features. Well, I had no doubts of these being Valentin's progenitors; their facial features alone screamed out their relationship to the albino sitting beside me right now. Glancing to Valentin quickly, I couldn't help but smile just a little bit. "Well, would you look at that." I teased lightly. "You're in a book. History's got its claws in you already." I looked back to the book. "Makarova... They showed up in a few of the other lineages, but they don't have an entry of their own... If memory serves..." I flipped back to another tree to reaffirm what pattern I thought I had noticed. "Only one female child... every time..." I puzzled over that. The genetic chances of that... "Statistically unlikely." And Zinoviya... "Your mom's the only one with dark hair. That doesn't make much sense either..." Unconsciously my brow furrows once more. "All these pale hair and eye genes, and yet your mother is the only one with dark hair; a dominant trait. And of course, Valentin the Albino; talk about an unusual trait." I teased again at his expense.

All this time focused on my own research.. and yet I had been shallow enough to never so much as inquire in his own. Surely such an interesting individual as Valentin had stories of his own to tell; perhaps it would be interesting to hear tales from someone who did have an established and known family history. "What are some stories from your family? Traditions? Customs? Was there really a 'right' way to ask? "I know you follow a lot of Turkic customs, but was there any particular family thing that was special or interesting to you? What was it like growing up as, well, not a vagabond?" I jibed at myself.

I could hold off on the incessant research. Sitting down like a regular person and having a chat would likely help to not only clear my mind but to also get to know Valentin better. We spent so much time together simply by nature of Captainship and the Hexwizard team, but beneath that, Valentin was a person just as much as I. He had tried so hard to understand me... it seemed only right that I return the favor in some way; hopefully in a way that gave him at least something a little positive to think about or geek out over. Some people were very proud of their families. If I knew mine, maybe I would be too.

From the pages of the book, Valentin's portrait (as well as all the others in the Schnell lineage), looked out at their two onlookers with their own personalities that were always captured thanks to the nature of those wizarding photographs. Captured in the act of doing the thing that they loved, or at least the way that they portrayed their character best.

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 15 Ω
Ω Accuracy 15 | Wisdom 9 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω

Romeo smiled a little at Valentin’s surprise with the Italian’s concern. "That's where there is such a thing as the co-Captain. You couldn't get me to not be concerned about your well-being if you tried…" Valya’s violet eyes cast down at his pale hands, which he turned over to stare into their palms. Since the disintegration of the quidditch team years ago, Valentin took it upon himself to rebuild by shouldering more and more of Durmstrang’s burdens solo. Training harder and longer, sacrificing more than ever before, and developing the enduring morale needed to support the entire team, Valentin built himself into not only a world-class seeker, but a reliable leader with such encyclopedic player, game, and broom knowledge that their strategies came to rival those of top professional teams. Studying harder to attain high academic standings piled atop these and the growing duties of caring for friends, but however much his team grew bigger and closer, such heavy responsibilities also carried a sense of moral isolation. At the height of this solitude came its cataclysm, striking Valentin down with the lance of Heaven for his impulsive, if desperate, flight – only a fortnight after Romeo rejoined the team as Beater #4. It was then, at the end of April, that the Italian rose again to attain the rank of…

“…Co-captain…” Valentin remembered the day well, when he lay shattered in the hospital ward and asked Romeo to take care of the team while he recovered. When Val returned to find the team even better off than before, Valentin confirmed that he wanted Romeo to take a place at his side, and now in perpetuity. With the Italian’s strategic contributions, team-building, and increasingly top-notch athletic performance, Romeo merged into the core of Durmstrang’s quidditch team in ways that exceeded what Valentin even dared to hope for. However slow and steady was the Beater’s approach, he was effective, helping take the team to greater heights than Valentin could have ever done alone. “Not just in name, either. You really became that, my co-captain, through and through… just think of our boot camp. You taught me how arrogant I was in trying to do so much by myself. Durmstrang soars today because of you. Without you, I…” Valentin bit his lip, holding back again. “I don’t know what I’d, we'd, do without you, but it wouldn’t be half as glorious. Not just the championships or Hexiwizard, but even just the blasted homework… Who am I to question how you’re crazy enough to care about some fool hell-chaser, when you’re already so…” Shut up, shut up, shut up. Leave him in peace, Valik.

After all their time together, Romeo knew Val well enough not to sugarcoat his words. "What you did was highly dangerous. I don't need to be the one to tell you safely that you did almost die and almost took the two of us with you in the process." As Romeo’s baritone turned stern, Valentin closed his eyes in concentration as a hot red blush painted his cheeks. "If I could prevent you from being in situations that would call upon an action that could define life or death, I would." Turning slightly to look at the shine of Romeo’s boots from the corner of his eyes, Valentin couldn’t help but grin with the deliciousness of being scolded by one he trusted and respected so much. It was like feeling his co-captain’s touch as he tried to raise Val up higher, first by breaking down what needed to be destroyed, his limitations, so that something stronger could grow in its place. That Romeo’s use of power was so constructive was exactly why Val found it so delectable: for however few questioned Valentin’s actions and subtle authority, one who earned the captain’s respect while doing so was rarer still.

Romeo slid to the side to make a bit of room for Val to sit down next to him, supassing what the seeker could resist anymore. Valentin tipped his head in thanks before lowering himself down into the little pocket of heat the giant had generated during his time in the doorway. Even warmer sat the Italian himself, nestled inside the ample fur of his uniform, and it took substantial resolve for Valentin to not lean in even closer.

"Being detached... a vagabond... I suppose it makes me jealous of those who have a permanent place of any kind. Kazan was a fever dream to me the first time you let me stay the summer." Valentin blinked languidly, transported back to that precious time when his home had felt complete. "I suppose I live each day assuming that tomorrow will come with whatever it is that comes with it, but that tonight at the worst I have a sleeping bag, a roof over my head, and something to eat."

“Such humility… to cherish every little thing without a sense of entitlement… It is such people who can truly have the world. It is not kings who own the stars, but the dreamers who love them.” Turning his heliotrope eyes to watch Romeo’s face, Valentin forgot to care as Romeo’s fingers below pulled pages across the ‘S’ section of his blue book. The entire subject fell away forgotten once Val’s quicksilver mind snagged on Romeo's phrase, ‘what I’ve lost…’

"…So... I guess I'm happy right now. It's hard to tell for sure sometimes. I'm not depressed. I'm content. Grateful... and a little bit nervous simply because of all of the new things and situations that I keep finding myself around and in, but hey. Don't change yourself just because people start treating you differently… Don't sell your soul for the public because the second you do is the second they eat you alive and leave you in the wreckage to pick up the pieces they scattered."

“Mmm,” Valentin affirmed. The seeker and competitive musician had lived in the limelight long enough that he didn’t fear the press anymore, but he knew what they were capable of after seeing the media’s treatment of Zinoviya after her murder, let alone Hugo’s scandals. “They don’t own me,” was all Valentin could say. This wasn’t the time to go into what he had witnessed in his infiltration of the burgeoning Romeo Marchonné fan clubs. Glancing down at the book in Romeo’s hands, Valentin’s eyes blew wide with alarm as his own father stared back at him from the page. “A-ah… hah…”

"Well, would you look at that. You're in a book. History's got its claws in you already."

At the bottom of the tree, a photograph labelled “Valentin Azat Schnell” depicted an exuberant boy at age five rolling across the floor as photographers tried and failed to capture the fast-moving blur of white. Jumping up and yoinking the camera from its stand, the boy spun the viewer through the photo around and around, eventually slowing to a stop as a radiant raven-haired woman scooped him up. From another picture nearby, she appeared to be his mother, but wearing a much brighter smile than in her own portrait. Upon examination, Zinoviya’s intense purple eyes contrasted with child Valentin’s, which were almost pure whitish-silver. It would be simple at that point to observe that, indeed, Valentin’s eye color had been slowly changing over the years. Even over the last twelve months the saturation of their amethyst tinge had grown remarkably brighter.

“Remind me to go in and get that photo updated,” remarked Valentin, flushing cherry red with embarrassment. Above his portrait, Hugo’s image swirled a glass of red wine as he leaned against a high-end grand piano, grinning with a gleam in his eye sharp enough to cut into the heart. It was the look of a man who enjoyed power as his eyes narrowed, judging anyone who viewed him while caring not a whit for how he was seen. Above him, Valentin’s paternal grandfather stared through earnest cobalt eyes as a Grindelwald-era flag waved behind him, staked into the ground in front of a mountain outpost in the Alps. A fife in one hand and a familiar ebony wand in his belt holster, the man seemed friendly, if serious. Below read: Hans Adalheid Schnell, Politician and Revolutionary; early Nurmengard Castle, Austria – (1882-1998). Romeo’s eyes had multitudes of other details to pick off the page, too, and noted Zinoviya’s death year of 2020 while Hugo’s was left blank. Most striking, however, was the single-file female matrilineal descendants in a book full of expansively branching trees.

"Makarova... Only one female child... every time… Statistically unlikely. Your mom's the only one with dark hair. That doesn't make much sense either… All these pale hair and eye genes, and yet your mother is the only one with dark hair; a dominant trait. And of course, Valentin the Albino; talk about an unusual trait."

Чёрт Russian: Chort; “shit”, thought Valentin with a wince. All it took was a turn of a page for so much sensitive history to tumble into Romeo’s hands. The co-captain knew Valentin didn’t talk about his family unless asked for specifics, just like he never brought up the subject of his wealth unless he had to. Still, if there was anyone he was willing to admit things to…

“Crinus Muto,” the albino explained. “Her natural hair was the same color as mine. Very pale skin for a Turk too, like me. Romeo, I…” Pausing for a moment as he rubbed his fingers together, Valentin considered the wisdom of saying words that could not be taken back. Looking into Romeo's eyes for a moment before scooting a couple of inches closer, Valentin traced his finger along the border of Zinoviya’s photo wherein she made a single, dancing spin and beamed a luminous smile while sweeping back her long waves of hair with one arm. The graceful way she moved struck Romeo as another of the gifts she had bestowed upon Valentin before her passing. Valentin pulled at a strand of pale hair hanging in front of his ear and sighed as he muttered to himself. “Синең белән бергә күккә дә орына алам... (Tatar, lit.: ‘I can touch the sky with you.’) ........ Alright… Stribog’s breath. Alright… co-captain...” Glancing at Romeo one more time, Valentin inhaled before words poured out in a flood.

“She wanted people to love her music for its own sake, so she tried to hide that she was part veela. You know, some are afraid of veela mind control, and her music was… well, moving. Powerful. It changed people. There was more to it than having a lot of fans who thought they could fight over her. Without even knowing her heritage, people accused her of driving people crazy, with how obsessive some became. Then there were her mellifluous words… People started reading all kinds of things into her lyrics, which started to get used by political factions and blamed for social unrest. Sure, her style was revolutionary, but… one song actually became an anthem for a rebellion that overthrew a Middle-Eastern dictator. Her music was compelling, and a lot of people prefer the status quo while… others don’t… Romeva… I don’t know how much of it was the persuasion of magic, but I do know she was a truly good person. Please believe me. If she changed her hair to hide her heritage, it was to protect herself and help her share music with less prejudice. Some people are really afraid of veelas, enough to turn violent… or wrathful. Her music was so pure. I wish she were still here. The world is better because of those songs, and there are things I have to know that I needed her to teach me about our ancient…” Despite the chill of January, so close to Romeo, Valentin began to sweat. “Romeva…” Valentin’s amethyst-mythril eyes glinted as they turned away to stare into the sky.

“There are so many things I want to tell you. I wish we could know everything about each other. I didn’t know you were interested in this kind of thing. Are you sure you want to know…? You might never look at me the same way again... and yet... I want us to not just speak the truth to each other, but know all those things that usually don’t get mentioned. Scary things. Controversial things. Things that you may or may not like.” Valentin’s right hand trailed the furry edge of the end of Romeo’s cloak. “You’re right about her lineage. The single female heirs was no accident. Some people would say I shouldn’t be alive today, medvezhonok. I just hope to prove them wrong. The choice to let me live was not a popular one.” Curling his cold fingers into the lining of the Italian’s cloak, Valentin stared into its swathes of fur as if within its blackness he would find peace.

“As for customs… we have many. Tatars are famous for their hospitality in particular. My German father was more practical and severe, but he was an avid reader of fairy tales, philosophy, and mythology and used them as topics for his music. I even know a lot of muggle stories that he read to me because, like he said, ‘a tale is a tale is a tale.’ Those were the good times, before my parents spent most of their time away from home. It became really lonely because the Estate is so far away from everything, and the wilderness is so big… I spent a lot of time practicing flying and exploring. It became like meditation for me. My mother was really spiritual and she would read to me, too, in different languages, mostly sacred texts and parables. Oh, and she would sing, in Tatar, Russian, German, English, Turkish, and …. yeah, in Veela. It was beautiful. Maybe I can share one of her lullabies with you sometime. I figure it’s because of my parents that languages come so easily to me.” With a brief flash of a smile, Valentin rocked forward and back a couple of times. It was still strange opening up about himself, but he was afraid that if he stopped talking then the moment would be lost forever.

“Even though both were iconoclasts in many ways, they were very insistent about some traditions. Auguries and other divinations were really important to my mother, who came from a line of priestesses… Ahm… Yeah, it’s because of her that I like to burn incense, too. Sometimes it was funny, the conflicts between her and my father, sometimes sad. In spring in Kazan we still cook porridge for the Karga botlasu holiday, and you’re supposed to not just share it with everyone but also leave some out for the rooks. Papka would always complain that it’s such a waste, but I do it because it was really important to my mother. Every time a neighbor had a wedding, we had to go of course, and there are a lot of customs about that. I have my mother’s flying carpet, too. Thankfully it wasn’t in my father’s tower when it burned down. It’s a very rare and beautiful family heirloom, always used when someone proposes in marriage. I’ve never flown on it, though, since it was last used before I was born. When I was a kid, everything seemed so stable… until it wasn’t. After a while it became hard to get attention anymore, difficult to get any kind of touch since the house keepers were always so formal. I think it was then that I started doing stunts and trying to fill the void with thrills when no one was around to watch. Sure, the property was stable, but even before my mother died, I’d already lost my family. At that point I just wanted to fly farther and farther, higher and higher, as if somehow I could pass the invisible line of a horizon to find what I'd lost.” Valya pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned over them, closing his eyes. He was only centimeters away from Romeo but now seemed almost afraid to look at him. “When the quidditch team broke up, it seemed to be happening all over again, but now... we're together again... right?” Squinting as a huff of air escaped his bunny nose, Valentin wondered why he was asking such a question.

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint Scar on Left Eye & Mangled Right Ear | \ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm / | Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |

Valentin Schnell
@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

“Valetin Azat Schnell, huh?” I remarked teasingly as I watched the little boy’s portrait gallivant around. Despite myself, a chuckle bubbled from my lips as I observed the little Valentin’s parents attempting to control him long enough to get him to sit still and take a photo that so many hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions, of people would see one day. Azat… what an intriguing middle name. Certainly it was more intriguing than Giovanni, that humble Italianization of the name “John”. "Aw, no... you're cute. Look at you, for crying out loud." I jibe at him a little more, even though I do observe that red blush spreading across the cheeks of the Valentin sitting next to me. But, as if correcting me for being overconfident and attempting to poke fun at another's embarrassment, it seemed that I myself would be embarrassed in turn, for on closer inspection of Valentin’s name… “Wait, there’s an ‘N’ in your name?”

I squinted and nearly brought the book to my nose as I came to the realization that Valentin’s name looked different than I thought it had looked up to this point. Valentin. Valentin. Oh my gosh. “Oh my God, I think I’ve been spelling your name wrong my entire life.” A flush of red began to cross my cheeks at the realization. Almost an entire year of working together in close proximity, and almost an entire four years of knowing him as a classmate… and I didn’t know what Valentin’s actual name was? “I think I’ve been pronouncing it wrong too… Valetin… no. Valentin? Valentin. Oh my God.” I placed the book open on my lap as I buried my face in my hands. “It’s an Italian name too, oh my God… Oh my God I am so embarrassed–I should have known this already!–oh my God, oh my God…”

Humiliating? Absolutely. But also it was so, so idiotic and rude of me. Rude of me to not even care enough to so much as ask if I had been wrong all these years as to the simple name of my co-captain and closest friend. Had Valentin even known that I had been pronouncing his name incorrectly? If he did he sure did a good job of not being… I don’t know… offended about it, I suppose. “I swear I didn’t mean to mispronounce it, I swear to you. Oh my God…” I just couldn’t stop seeming to spiral in this very oddly specific way. It was easily correctable, this much I knew, but I still couldn’t believe that I was having to promise that it wouldn’t happen again in the future because I had made that error to begin with. “Ach… well… live and learn… Live and… and learn?” I paused for a second, holding my breath tightly for a second with a small and anxious glance to Valentin before exhaling deeply as I shook my head in the finality of total shame. “I’m never going to be able to live this down, am I... I honestly thought it was some strange Russianization or, or Germanization or something... something weird...”

It had been my honor to assist Valentin shape the Quidditch team, it always had been. To be honest, I never felt that I deserved the second chance, and perhaps now I still didn't. Still, I was going to continue to keep trying by best, and I was going to continue onward as best I could for all of our sakes; for Valentin, for myself, and most certainly for the team that we both loved. At this point... I was simply ashamed of myself for such an obviously ridiculous shortcoming on my behalf. Was it the end of the world? No, absolutely not.

It sure felt like it, though, at least from a compulsive perfectionist's standpoint.

"You'll still let me keep helping out with homework, right?" I tried to jest at my own misfortunes and shame. "I-I don't really have another study partner."

But beyond the humiliation of a small spiral over such a matter that I should have brought to my own attention long ago, Valentin's commentary on his family tree was something that caused me to stop everything else that I was doing and simply sit and listen to him while observing the family portraits. Unconsciously, I suppose I was focusing in on their wands, particularly the ebony one that I had had firsthand experience with at the Schnell manor just last December. Valentin's mother, Zinoviya, had a death date of 2020. I remembered precious little about this, I had left the team in that year. Still, dealing with the death of a loved one was never easy, even if one had years leading into decades to consider and grieve over such things. I still considered such things with the heaviest of hearts, which was admittedly why I kept myself at an arm's length from them if I could help it. Perhaps a heart made of stone mine was, but it had kept me safe and it had kept these others that I loved most safe. I could not fully grieve that which I could not control, only remember and act to ensure the same would not befall others.

"You seem to have inherited her grace, at least." I remarked as Zinoviya spun in her frame with dark hair and enchanting eyes. Unearthly grace indeed, as if by some unknown magic she could reach through the frame and enchant simply with a glance. So real that she could somehow disregard the boundaries of a photograph and make the picture dance in the real world.

Tearing my eyes from the photograph, Valentin shared all. And what a tale it was, but something that I should not have been shocked by by now thanks to the things experienced by both of us thus far. And yet... "Part-Veela?" I marveled aloud, awe beginning to coat my voice ever so slightly. Well of course the music industry would have been an easy task for such a musically-inclined magical creature. In fact, I was more impressed that even for being part-veela that Valentin's mother had found a place to fit into at all. "Well it's no wonder that some people had their fears... Aren't Veelas renowned for their abilities to charm the unwitting mortal if they find them even remotely of intrigue? Still, if everything you've said so far is true, then music was indeed her true calling; she used her skills and--I do believe this--tried to make good of them. Even without Veela magic, surely you already know that music is a powerful force. Powerful nations have risen and fallen with the notes of the chromatic scale; even I know that, and I have no idea how to sing or dance in way that would be pleasant to listen to." Detrimental humor was never my strong suit, but it certainly helped to alleviate tension and reduce stress regardless.

My fingers continued to tease the border of the portrait as Valentin expressed his longing. "She seems like someone worth knowing; understanding. And obviously I know you love her and she loves you." Wasn't that what every child hoped that they had from their mother? Hell, didn't that always extend to a father as well? As awkward as it was to try and speak about such a difficult topic, surely I had to try. "Hey, hey... it's okay. Take a few deep breaths, you're getting stressed." I tried to calm the torrent of words and emotions a little as I fixed my eyes on Valentin once again, having had experiences with my own spirals (an excellent example of this having been the small debacle that occurred only a few brief minutes ago). "You don't have to try to convince me if your mother was a good or bad person. If the results of her motherhood is you, then she must be alright." I tipped my head with a bit of a sideways smile. "You're a good person, right?" A beat, and then if he hesitated at all; "Don't you dare say 'Oh, wull, Idunnoooo...'. You are. Don't overthink it, Il Niffler."

Valentin's fingers wound themselves into the black fur of my cloak, and I reduced myself to silence once again as he shared his own demons. Despite myself, I found myself smiling. How strange it all was, how odd the circumstances that we both found ourselves with. So striking, so different, but at the same time so strangely similar. "The choice to let you live was never another's choice to make. 'Pure', 'Impure', 'Part-Veela' or 'Wizard', they're all lives that began and they are all lives that should not be taken for sins they did not, could not, commit. Life, the act of being created or born, is not a crime." Even if others liked to say that, even if it made others feel larger about themselves to know that they were 'wanted'. "Happy little accidents, right?" Maybe that was what it boiled down to in the end, for the both of us. Perhaps no more than a pair of happy little accidents, little 'accidents' that were entrenching their footholds in the world in an attempt to show it that it had taken a good risk in letting us stay long enough to try. Happy little accidents that not only earned their keep but made others thankful that they existed. "Let the past keep their past and the traditions their traditions. Personally, I think you being in this world has made it for the better. C'mere."

With a brush of my arm, I threw the cloak on Valentin's side over him so that he would stop worrying over the fur. "Knot your fingers any further in the cloak and you might start making it shed again." A small nod of affirmation before I gave a serious look. If Valentin thought that I could be scared off simply by stories (even if they were true) of his family history, he was thoroughly mistaken. "I'm controversial." I said simply. "And I want to learn these things about you or else why would I have asked? Perhaps I've been rude for not showing any discernable interest earlier. You hold a lot inside you, a lot of people do. It just so happens that some of that is more visible than others. Let's be 'controversial' together. Isn't that the cliché teen's dream, after all?"

Hearing the family traditions put a lighter spin on the mood, fortunately, something that made me really want to write things down so that I could commit them to memory and recall them at a later time. Ah yes, I knew the feeling of running wild through the woods well; I knew them well, even if I was trying to hunt down my wayward twin in the process. It was always about making sure that he wouldn't hurt himself, it seemed. Though, at Valentin's admittance that he believed that he sought attention more and more after his family fell apart, my face fell slightly again. Not even his eyes met mine anymore, as I looked back at him with my large hand holding my place in the book in my lap.

Reflecting once, I wondered if I had ever tried so hard to get attention for anything remotely like that reason. Perhaps that had always been a trait of Piérre's as opposed to my own; while he gallivanted and made nonsense I was always content to watch from a distance and make sure that he had someone to run to and show off his findings to. I guess it never occurred to me that I would want more attention than I was given, I prized the moments of achievement that I earned and politely shied away from the spotlight because I always knew that my brother was infinitely better at handling it. Overshadowed would perhaps be the accolade that most people would ascribe to me for most of my childhood; most people could immediately tell that I was better-read than my brother was, or at least sensed that I took a more mature stance. Overshadowed perhaps, but quite comfortable in the shade. My newfound renown in the sporting world's minor leagues was only proving the fact that I was not well-equipped to handle sudden and incessant attention.

Instead of being the person that others ran to to show me things or to call upon my protection, I was starting to shrink away in feeble attempts to find my own shelter; without much success.

"Together and stronger than ever." I affirmed Valentin's insecurities. "2022 proved that nicely, and we'll do it again, so cheers to more thrills and daredevil win conditions." Of course I was still glowing with pride over our team, trying in particular to keep that momentum in them so that this year would be the same. "And if you do remember any lullabies or anything like that, I'd love to hear them. If they were important to you, then they are important to me. I may find some things odd and may have some questions, but I do love to learn." Learn, learn, and learn more... Some things never faded, it seemed. The need to understand, the need to seek and comprehend. That was what had sent me on this wild goose chase to begin with, and this was why I had stuck with this for as long as I had. I had to find the solution, had to find the answer and had to learn why. "... This is nice. Hearing your side of things. Thank you for trusting me enough to share." Now maybe I could start forgiving myself for taking things of Valentin's all the time. Maybe if I started giving him things, I could give back for everything I took.

After a pause of letting everything sink into the air between us, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled again as I looked down at the book pinned beneath my hand. "Valen tin Azat Schnell. Never will forget that again, I tell you me." I vowed in a low voice loud enough for Valentin to hear before slowly hissing through the pages by pressure of thumb on the curled parchment. Despite myself, I let out a small humph of laughter. "You learn something new every day..."

With a small hum, I idly continued to page through and observe the various second-half of the alphabet names after S; Sh-, St-, Su-, Ta-, To-, Ty-, U, V...

Ah yes, Vero. One of my suspects. Worth a revisit, even if I didn't find anything of particular interest there. I had scanned the earlier pages, particularly those who ignited the very start of the family tree allegedly tracing all the way back to the Roman Empire's zenith and perhaps even further if they had records for it. An ancient ancestor with only a name had the years 183-270AD as their birth and death years; Amulius Statilus Vero, evidently renowned for his abilities of transmutation and abjurations against muggles. It occurred to me that it was highly likely that this man was aware of Hannibal, or at least that he had lived through that renowned general's daring invasion of Sicily in 215AD. Continuing to hum to myself in curiosity, I flipped forward a few more pages, always impressed that the family held itself together so carefully whether it be through one male heir or as many as ten sons at a time. Tangled, yet seemingly condensed into one branch of interest as others began to die out or mingle with impurities somewhere along their lines, I finally came to the most recent page; from 1900 to current day.

A single male heir with four children but only one son, who in turn had no less than seven and then one daughter; Squib albeit, but Pureblood regardless. As I traced names, observed faces in their portraits, my blood suddenly chilled as the portrait closest to the spine of the book glowered at me from its frame, an eerie blue eye without a visible twin handsomely appraising its viewer with a curl of a smile that looked more dangerous than friendly.

"You have his eyes, you know. Well, his eye anyway."

"Eye..." My mind began to spin as I flattened the book out to look at the portrait of the labeled Vero member. Gitano Luca. With a plain black eyepatch over his right socket, he was dressed to the nines in the finest trappings of--well, perhaps not exactly Pureblood stylings--a well-to-do gentleman. Blonde hair gleaming as if the sun itself had somehow been made to be caught in the individual strands, the man grinned sideways once as he tipped his head, offering a 3/4ths perspective to an already angled and elegant facial structure. That eye never seemed to waver as it looked out of its frame, as if always watching its looker. As if to say. 'I know you're staring, come stare a little more.'

The picture did shift briefly to a half-body portrait for a second, long enough to observe the man tipping a phial of glistening substance into a potion phial that produced a plume of love-potion pink and spread its mist about the area. Between the phial and the potion bottle was a knobbled wand. Pine, judging only by the distinctive knobbles, completely straight and almost pointed at its tip. The eye looked condescendingly out of its corner to appraise its viewer, and then the man silently laughed, throwing his head back ever so slightly as if he had been told a joke by the photographer behind the lens. Seeming to speak ever so slightly here to an unseen focus, Gitano swirled the potion in the bottle once before raising a brow at something behind the focus of the frame and then knocking back whatever it was that he had just finished brewing. The portrait then returned to the close-up on his face, but I was left with slightly sweating palms swiftly turning cold in the Durmstrangian chill. I could feel my face drain of blood as the intruder at Schnell Manor and the picture came together in a single, thrilling, terrible conclusion.

It would make sense. The age was right, even the genes would make sense...

"V-Val..." My voice quivered ever so slightly. "I think I found him." Another name stuck out to me. "My God, and there's Noé... But..."

The blue eye of Gitano Luca Vero sparkled with unknowable intent as the chin tipped ever so slightly and another sly grin split his features once more. "I think... I'm looking at my dad."

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 15 Ω
Ω Accuracy 15 | Wisdom 9 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω

Valentin squeezed his knees together awkwardly at the sound of his middle name spoken at the lips of Romeo himself.

"Aw, no... you're cute. Look at you, for crying out loud."

The Italian’s words sent a wave of red rushing over Valentin’s cheeks, and so the seeker tucked up his knees and buried his face. Yet, he couldn’t deny the pleasure of the intense feelings overtaking him. Somehow, just sitting next to Romeo now was more thrilling than the most reckless spiral dive Val had ever dared, and beneath his heavy cloak every hair stood on end as if charged with static.

“…Mm, m…” It wasn’t even a mumble. It was a miracle any sound came out of the seeker’s tight chest at all. Yet, in but a second everything changed direction.

“Oh my God, I think I’ve been spelling your name wrong my entire life.” Romeo’s body began to move, and Valentin’s violet eyes peeked out just enough to watch the beater cover his face with his hands. “I think I’ve been pronouncing it wrong too… Valetin… no. Valentin? Valentin. Oh my God. It’s an Italian name too, oh my God… Oh my God I am so embarrassed–I should have known this already!–oh my God, oh my God…” The more embarrassed Romeo got, the more Valentin’s instincts demanded to comfort him. Uncoiling from his own tight ball of shyness, Valya leaned closer, pressing his shoulder against his co-captain’s. “I swear I didn’t mean to mispronounce it, I swear to you. Oh my God…”

“…O-oh, it’s okay. I just thought it was your accent. It’s cute.” A smile curled across Valentin’s lips, asymmetrical with half-submerged enjoyment.

“Ach… well… live and learn… Live and… and learn?” The beater visibly held his breath before exhaling with an anxious glance and shake of his head. ““I’m never going to be able to live this down, am I... I honestly thought it was some strange Russianization or, or Germanization or something... something weird...”

“Romeva…” A voice inside yelled to not do this, as there was still a possible future with Ginyami, but a yearning moved Valya’s arm around his co-captain’s broad shoulders. He’d never felt such a powerful need in his life. The seeker’s delicate fingers sank into the contours of the other’s cloak and, despite the winter chill, Valentin felt heat fill him up like a sauna dizzying him with a headrush. “Rome, you can call me anything you want. I love it when you say my name.”

“You'll still let me keep helping out with homework, right? I-I don't really have another study partner. ”

“Actually… I wish we would study more together.” Valentin’s bodyweight sank slowly closer to Romeo, pulled by inexorable gravity. “You’re so much smarter than people give you credit for. I see it, the sparkling intellect in you. I’ve always been watching, and you just keep getting better…”

Eventually the pair returned to the subject of the book, but Valentin didn’t look at Zinoviya’s portrait. The topic was difficult indeed, and the pale boy held himself tethered to Romeo as if to keep his mind from flying off into dark space.

“You seem to have inherited her grace, at least.”

Hopeful amethyst eyes looked up into Romeo’s cerulean, but Valentin was beginning to doubt his co-captain would really accept him now that the truth was coming out.

“Part-Veela?”

“… Yeah.”

“Well it's no wonder that some people had their fears... Aren't Veelas renowned for their abilities to charm the unwitting mortal…?” Romeo went on to believe in Valentin’s defense of her moral character, and the true importance of her musical work. “Powerful nations have risen and fallen with the notes of the chromatic scale; even I know that, and I have no idea how to sing or dance in way that would be pleasant to listen to.”

“But you were so beautiful, that day in detention… So beautiful. If it hadn’t filled me with elation, I could have cried.” Valya’s slender hand slipped down from Romeo’s shoulder to clutch a small clump of his cloak’s black fur lining. When the topic continued about Zinoviya, a chorus of emotions began playing over Valentin’s features.

“She seems like someone worth knowing; understanding. And obviously I know you love her and she loves you.”

Loves, as if she were still here… as if she could still love me, dead… A knot of pain constricted Val’s tender, pearl-skinned throat.

“Hey, hey... it's okay. Take a few deep breaths, you're getting stressed.” Romeo’s eyes fixed onto Valya’s once more, and the captain obeyed. “You don't have to try to convince me if your mother was a good or bad person. If the results of her motherhood is you, then she must be alright. You're a good person, right?”

Valentin’s eyes dropped, and he wondered if he really was good inside. He knew full well his power to hypnotize, as he had seen during the fight against Charles’s aggressors, and in his own ability to charm fans and friends alike. Was it really right to use such power over others? Was that not what people needed of a champion, a captain, of their white king? Yet, the legend of the colddrake clung heavy inside all the dark recesses of Val’s mind. There was no singular line between being a king and being a despot, and such judgments all seemed so arbitrary and amorphous, especially now, so close to his beloved Romeo.

“Don't you dare say 'Oh, wull, Idunnoooo...'. You are. Don't overthink it, Il Niffler.”

Closing his amethyst eyes, Valentin’s lips tightened. All he could think to do was snake his fingers through the black fur within their grasp. Wasn’t there a good reason why tradition killed off the would-be male successors of Val’s bloodline? Wasn’t it dangerous for him to be alive, to use whatever fragment of power he still carried into the future?

“The choice to let you live was never another's choice to make. 'Pure', 'Impure', 'Part-Veela' or 'Wizard', they're all lives that began and they are all lives that should not be taken for sins they did not, could not, commit. Life, the act of being created or born, is not a crime. Let the past keep their past and the traditions their traditions. Personally, I think you being in this world has made it for the better. C'mere.”

As Romeo threw his cloak around Valentin, a gust of warmth flooded over and through the slim seeker. “Knot your fingers any further in the cloak and you might start making it shed again.” Nodding slightly, Valentin let go and sank into the sound of Romeo’s words as he folded back up into a ball within Romeo's cloak.

“I'm controversial. And I want to learn these things about you or else why would I have asked? Perhaps I've been rude for not showing any discernable interest earlier. You hold a lot inside you, a lot of people do. It just so happens that some of that is more visible than others. Let's be 'controversial' together. Isn't that the cliché teen's dream, after all?”

“Rome… I… Yes.” Valentin’s voice crackled, but began to smooth out. “I want to know everything there is to know about you. Everything. I know it’s a privilege, but I’ll do anything to earn it. Please… let me into those parts of your life. I want to be there, with you… I’ll let you in, too, if you want to be there. I promise, one day I’ll sing you one of those veela lullabies…”

The two captains eventually went back to perusing the book in search of leads on Romeo’s ancestry, and at last a peculiar portrait caught his cerulean eye.

“Eye...”

Valentin also turned his keen gaze to the photo, automatically picking through its finer details for potential tells.

“His eye…” affirmed the seeker. The resemblance was unmistakable after countless hours of gazing at Romeo’s. “Isn’t that… a love potion? Wh… what is he doing with that?”

The blood drained from Romeo’s face as his voice began to quiver.

“V-Val... I think I found him. My God, and there's Noé... But...” The portrait blonde tipped his chin, and everything seemed to click. “I think... I'm looking at my dad.”

Valentin didn’t mean to, but his hand slipped itself into Romeo’s with an affectionate squeeze.

“I know your face better than anyone other than perhaps your brother. I also know Piérre’s. This is it. I think you’ve found him.”

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint Scar on Left Eye & Mangled Right Ear | \ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm / | Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |

Valentin Schnell
[@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

Y-yeah, just my accent huh? I wouldn’t try to deny or affirm it any further. But at least Valentin seemed to have taken some pleasure out of the happy accident. ‘I love it when you say my name.’

I felt Valentin slipping a bit closer to me, even as we spoke of his mother and her deeds. I wasn’t sugarcoating or trying to appeal by anything I said. Hell, if I knew who my own mother was, I would want to be honest about my feelings about her. Eleanor was a good mother, a good woman, an excellent role-model and someone that I had loved greatly. Yet, for even as much as I had wanted that to be all that I thought about and no questions further asked, it simply couldn’t be. I always knew that deep down, as much as I was loved and as much as I loved, it wasn’t quite right. It wouldn’t quite be the same. Perhaps that was why I was so hellbent on trying to find something, anything, that would give me peace of mind about my past; something to prove that I had come from somewhere and that I hadn’t simply fallen out of the sky.

Despite myself I feel a stroke of amusement at the remembrance of my very first detention last summer. “Ah, ha…” I sheepishly shrugged and looked away for a moment. “‘Beautiful’ I don’t know much of… ‘Silly’, perhaps, but-” I hadn’t a graceful bone in my body. A hesitation. Well, I supposed that beauty could be in the eye of the beholder. But… “Well, I did have fun, anyways. Maybe I should try monkey dancing more often.” A mixture of jest and seriousness; I supposed I was most worried about being made fun of, and besides… I wasn’t really built like a dancer, really. Illustrated before, proven annually, my dance was that of the fight; a careful maneuver, a careful ritual. Not always to fight, not always to remain peaceful.

The more we spoke of lineage, of Valentin’s side of the family, the more the albino seemed to retreat further into himself. Was such a simple concept of simply being ‘a good person’ really bothering him so much? Did he really think himself not worthy of considering himself a good person? Though I would fix him with an intense stare, still hoping that perhaps he would remark something that would indicate to me that he believed what I was telling him, I would eventually let it drop. After all, even if Valentin didn’t think that he was a good person, I did. The things I had seen from him, the way that he acted and the unending dedication that he gave to those that he loved… these were indicative of someone who not only knew where their allegiances lay but also knew how much they were willing to sacrifice for what they believed was good. Valentin had convictions. Valentin had dreams and ambitions. Powerful dreams and ambitions, likely much stronger than my own were I to be honest. Directed towards what he believed, what he truly believed and what was good, surely what he gave to the world would eventually in turn give back to him. Not a karmic retribution, exactly, but eventually receiving the reward that he rightly deserved at the end of it all.

"I would love to hear one." I reaffirmed my desire to understand more about the Veela blood, even as little as it was, that was in Valentin; the stories and the culture that I could learn. "And... maybe I'll be able to someday. I'm still trying to learn more about myself as well... I don't think I can--well--that I can share much about myself worth knowing." I didn't think that I was worth knowing much as it was. Other than the fact that I had many introverted hobbies and that I had some scholarly ambitions, I was so terribly mundane compared to so many of my fellow classmates and the backgrounds that they came from. I was happy enough to simply get a good education and learn everything that I could about a little bit of everything. "Hopefully this can be the first step." At least I could be hopeful about that much.

In the end... "In the end I just want to make sure that the ones that I care most about are safe, including you." That was the least I could do during my short tenure in this world; to protect those who needed my protection most, and especially those that I loved. My brother, my team, the Horde...

And now there was this new mystery of this member of the Vero family; Gitano Luca, the closest thing to a lead that I had come across so far. "I can't quite tell." I admitted to Valentin as I squinted at the potion again. "Love potion, maybe. Though..." I tried to recall as much potion knowledge as I could. "I don't suppose it could be... some personal modification of another pre-existing potion...?" Admittedly brewing was not my strong suit. "He seems... overconfident." Brewing potions incorrectly could result in disaster, but upon realizing that I was not only unable to recognize the ingredient he was adding but also that I could not even recognize the final product of the brew, I recognized that there was a chance that perhaps instead of recklessness for recklessness' sake there was some level of experience that Gitano possessed that went beyond the basics of potioneering that I was currently learning. "Either he's a practiced potionsmaster or he's a reckless aspirant..." I noted the father of him and his other seven siblings, the fact that his portrait too depicted a silvered wizard with joy-creases in the corners of his eyes gently swirling a calming draught from the tips of his fingers. "It seems to run in the family."

I couldn't look away from that single eye, or the angles of his face. The longer I looked... the more I realized that he did indeed bear a stronger than striking resemblance to my brother. His face was simply... right. The way that his smile curled in a strange, almost deviously derisive way; wasn't that the look that I saw on my own twin's face whenever he fixed with a look of condescension or amusement? And his eye; that one was my own, wasn't it? His jawline too--my fingers trailed to my chin--more things were lining up further and further.

Now I had a name.

But where in God's name could he be? What was he doing, what was his place of residence? This book did not mention such things at all whatsoever. I had a name, but I had nothing more; nothing but suspicions. As soon as one mystery was unveiled, another seemed to take its place. While the records and jobs of the other members of the Vero family were easily located in the notations of their family lineage, Gitano's was totally absent. It was as if he simply didn't exist, as if he had fallen off the face of the earth.

Unless...

Wait...

"Valentin, what do you remember about Cielle's circus?" I asked open-endedly, recalling our beloved colorful carnie's origins. "Has she ever mentioned anything about certain members of the circus? Her father's a wizard, right?" My eyes flicked back ad forth as I considered the options. "... and it seems rather condoning towards the usage of magic if well-concealed." I fixed Valentin with a serious stare. "You don't think it's possible that there are... other wizards... perhaps one in a high enough position to either conceal--or perhaps even turn a blind eye to--uses of magic by her father... or themselves?"

Where was the best place to hide oneself but in a constantly moving organization renowned for the mysterious and magic-like? It was a perfect tightrope walk between distancing from the wizarding world just enough to stay under the radar and absentee in most commonly-accessible public records, but staying just close enough to reap the benefits of being of the magical folk among non-magical fellows. "Has Cielle ever mentioned anyone 'out of place' even for their cirque?"

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 15 Ω
Ω Accuracy 15 | Wisdom 9 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω

"Valentin, what do you remember about Cielle's circus?" asked Romeo, sending Valentin blinking. But what did that have to do with…

“…Turning a blind eye, you say? … A blind eye… Yes. Actually, I think you may be onto something. Wasn’t there something about their ringleader looking like this? Not a native Russian speaker, foreign, perhaps even… Italian? He didn’t seem like a very kind man from how she spoke, but, I… I mean, anyway, in a travelling circus, that’d be… a pretty mobile lifestyle, right? I could imagine someone like that not, ah, settling down to have kids. I think you’re right that all kinds of things could be concealed, living a life perpetually ‘on the move.’ I wonder why he chose this life for himself? If he’s still alive… Let’s find him. This could really be it. I’ll ask your PIs if they can find any more information… I don’t know how much they’ll find if he didn’t leave much of a paper trail, but surely a lot of people would have seen performances by such a band and might remember something we could use.”

Jumping up abruptly, Valentin stared down at the photograph in the book for only a split second before throwing his hand back in excitement.

“I’ll send some owls right now!! I can’t wait a second longer to get this moving. Romeo! We can do this!!” Almost spinning with his red cloak whirling, Valentin would soon sprint away to find one of his owls.