Occlusion PV

Valentin turned to face the perfect visage of his father, Hugo, who seemed to have not aged a day since last seen precisely two years ago. Apparently his time in a Russian prison labor camp had done nothing to dampen even his sense of style, but for Valentin those two years had felt like a century.

Reducio

“Mein Sohn.” “My son.” Just like his body, Hugo’s German carried the same boom of command from days long lost. The sound of laughter came again, but this time it grew louder until its source burst into the room: a child of about 7 with a Mediterranean complexion and a mangy head of black hair.

“Mamma, parla in italiano!” “Mom, talk in Italian!” complained the kid, who was so lovely beneath tattered layers of clothing and clumps of knotted hair that Valentin wasn’t entirely sure of their gender. The seeker winced, feeling like he must be in some kind of hallucination. Surely he must be dreaming. Of course he understood the Italian, having grown conversant in the language because of Romeo, but surely anyone could have grasped the meaning of such basic cognates. This was Germany – what the hell kind of joke was this?

Reducio

With a shush, Hugo put a hand atop the child’s head in just the way he’d done to Valentin as a boy. The visage of his father continued in German:

“Thank you for coming alone. I know this must all be quite strange, but I need your help, and everything must be secret in order to not draw the aurors’ attention. I’m sure you’re aware that I escaped from the gulag in order to be here with you today. No longer can I access old bank accounts nor acquaintances, since I can’t afford to drag them into this. This is purely a family matter, and with your mother gone, I can only turn to you for help.”

“Caminetto!” “Fireplace!” shouted the child, quite bored from not understanding any of the German and dashing over to the cold, empty fireplace. “Fuoco, fuoco! Fuoco, fuoco! Ho freddo!” “Fire, fire! Fire, fire! I’m cold!” Yet, Hugo did nothing, not even turning his head as the child ran across the damaged floorboards. He did not even bother to shush the child again. Such was Hugo alright.

“Will you help me, son?”

The child continued to whine, and when Valentin couldn’t bear to see the scruffy kid be ignored anymore, he went over to the fireplace to make sure at minimum there would be no falling into the giant hole in the floor. The lanky seeker squatted by the stone-cold fireplace and reached out his arms, inviting the child into a hug.

“Chi sei?” “Who are you?” asked the waif, looking expectantly at Valentin.

It was obviously a test. Everything Hugo ever did was ultimately a test… but what was the right answer?

Val’s German: #680c08; Hugo’s German: #5c150c; Kid’s Italian: #b9f5ff

Looking up at Hugo and then back at the child, Valentin laid down his gambit.

“Mi chiamo Valentin. Come ti chiami?” “My name is Valentin. What’s yours?”

“Valentino? Sei un santo? San Valentino?” “Valentino? Are you a saint? Saint Valentine?” The thin child edged closer, bones prominent and muscles lean from an apparently active and impoverished upbringing. Valentin smiled, abashed, and looked down for only a moment before the child threw both arms around the pale seeker’s neck. “Sono Bello!”“I’m Bello!”

“Ciao Bello,”“Hello, Bello,” greeted Valentin with a laugh, holding the child in a close hug. Hugo’s sleeves rustled as he crossed his arms, observing.

“Wirst du helfen?” “Will you help?” insisted the tall blonde man, but Valentin ignored him, waiting, counting, testing him back. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… …. “Also?”“Well?”

“Come sei scappato?” “How did you escape?” Valentin asked in an Italian retort to Hugo’s German. After all, Val had never heard Hugo speak Italian before, and two years in a Russian gulag would have been quite short for becoming fluent. Only through intensive, pricey tutoring had Valentin grown so conversant already. Yet, as Hugo sighed, it seemed he wasn’t up for playing Valentin’s game of speaking in Italian.

“Jetzt spiel doch nicht die beleidigte Leberwurst. Valentin, bitte, ich bin müde.” “Don’t be so fussy. Valentin, please, I am tired.” Hugo’s forceful plea rang with the same timbre as Valya remembered, but the boy couldn’t help still feeling like this was all a surreal dream. The scrawny boy within Val’s arms squirmed away and sat down on the cold, ashy rim of the ruined fireplace. The child might as well have been Valentin almost a decade ago, as Hugo’s steely eyes locked solely onto his objective even now while ignoring the scruffy kid.

“Non possiamo giocare? Fa troppo freddo qui.”“Can’t we play? It’s too cold here.” The dark-haired boy held himself as the last glow of the twilight sun succumbed to night chill.

“Posso mostrarti come accendere il fuoco alla maniera babbana. Vieni, Bello.” “I can show you how to make fire the muggle way. Come, Bello.” Valentin beckoned with his right hand as he drew an emergency flint from his pocket. While it was his Durmstrang survivalist training that had compelled him to bring it, it was the nostalgia of Italian that invited the muggle method. Of course, this too was part of Val’s test.

Whipping a black wand out from his coat, Hugo flung a wordless spell over Bello’s shoulder and lit the fireplace with a roaring incendio duo. The child fell forward with a surprised laugh and then turned to stare into the warming flames.

Hugo’s wand… thought Val. It’s just like I saw on the night the tower burned down. There isn’t another one like it in existence, and I’ll never forget its fluted shape. Val bent down to examine Bello, but the darker-skinned child seemed not only unharmed but downright blissful. Staring into the flames with his bluebell eyes, the boy at last went silent, utterly hypnotized.

“Valentin, setz dich bitte,” “Valentin, please sit down,” Hugo said, gesturing at his old oaken desk in the corner. His long-fingered hand grasped a fallen wooden chair and put it back upright in front of the desk before lighting a candle. Beneath thick layers of dust, the scrawl of graffiti marred the table’s battered wooden surface. Valentin got up and looked at Bello, but then turned to stare back into Hugo’s hard metallic gaze. Without really meaning to, Val’s right foot fell forward a step, soon to be followed by another until he found himself sitting on the uncushioned seat.

“Papka, was ist dir passiert?” “Papa, what happened to you?” whispered Valya at last in German.

“Du darfst niemals zulassen, dass sie dich gefangen nehmen, mein Sohn. Nur du kannst dich frei halten.” “You must never let them capture you, my son. Only you can keep yourself free.” Hugo’s eyes never released their lock on Valentin’s as the man placed his hand atop the crown of Valentin’s snowy-haired head. “Sie haben mich nur kurz aufgehalten.” “They only delayed me for a little while.”

For a moment, there was only a peaceful crackling of flames. Then, a creaking floorboard told of the shift of Hugo’s weight onto his back foot and he retrieved a quill from his coat – a primary wing feather from a sky blue Jobberknoll.

“Sind wir nicht immer noch eine Familie?” “Aren't we still family?” Hugo’s wand fell slack at his left side as he extended the feather to Valentin with his right hand. Yes, Valya’s father was left-handed like this...

“Wer ist Bello?” “Who is Bello?” blinked Valya, staring down at the black-barred quill as it flickered in the firelight.

“Valentin, er ist dein Bruder.” “Valentin, he is your brother.”

“Das macht keinen Sinn.” “That makes no sense.” Valentin pulled back a fistful of hair from his eyes and stared into the iron spokes ringing Hugo’s eyes.

“Finde die Wahrheit in dir: der leere vierte Turm in Kazan, die Fehlgeburt Ihrer Mutter und ihr Bedürfnis nach einem weiteren Erben. Das ist dieses Kind, ihr Kind, dein Bruder, Aśdrùbel. Zinoviya versteckte ihn vor mir, um ihre Untreue zu verbergen. Jetzt, da sie tot ist, werde ich wiederherstellen, was von unserer Familie übrig ist.” “Find the truth inside yourself: the empty fourth tower in Kazan, your mother's miscarriage, and her need for another heir. This is that child, her child, your brother, Aśdrùbel… Zinoviya hid him from me to conceal her infidelity. Now she is dead, but I will restore what is left of our family.”

For a moment, Valentin’s eyes grew wide with hope, only to be crushed by a wave of dejection. All these secret details from Val’s childhood… who other than Hugo could have known? This man felt more impatient than the father he remembered, but his commanding stare and curt tone hadn’t changed by one iota. Wasn’t this Hugo? If so, didn’t that mean the boy must really be Valya’s blood brother, even if born a bastard hidden away from the world? How and when did Hugo even find out? It was a good thing Valentin was sitting, as his head began to spin… Turning his keen eyes to the boy who stayed perfectly silent and stared into the flames, the white seeker sighed. How could it be? The dark-haired, praline-skinned waif of a child… certainly he had inherited considerable beauty, passable as the child of a part-veela, and in a way he did resemble Valentin but without the Tatar almond eyes…

“Verlass mich nicht, wie es dein Bruder war. Wenn du mir nicht hilfst, dann hilf ihm. Wir haben kein Geld, da er ein Waisenkind ist und der Gulag alles andere als lukrativ war. Valentin, was ist mit deinem Engelsherz passiert? Waren die Jahre so grausam?” “Don't abandon me as your brother was. If you won't help me, then help him. We have no money, as he is an orphan and the gulag was far from lucrative. Valentin, what ever happened to that angelic heart of yours? Have the years been so cruel?”

Valentin bit his lip, then put his hand on the back of the chair to press himself up to standing eye-to-eye with the blonde man.

“Warum ist dein Turm abgebrannt?” “Why did your tower burn down?” Valentin’s words dropped devoid of emotion in a tone he’d originally picked up from his father.

“Mein Turm? Was sagst du? Ich bin gerade erst entkommen und weiß nicht, was in den letzten Jahren passiert ist.” “My tower? What are you saying? I have only just escaped and don't know what has been going on in the last few years.”

Schachmatt, Checkmate thought Valentin. There’s no way he could have gotten his wand back from Sergei without learning about his tower burning down just yesterday. I know I saw it in Sergei’s hand even through the smoke, and I trust my eyes more than I believe this impatient fake. Even if I hadn’t learned about polyjuice in class, I’m just not the fool he takes me for. It’s just… why does he know about the miscarriage, and how can he know Papka’s mannerisms so well? What really happened to my father? Who is this person?

“Genug. Triff deine Entscheidung, Valenka.” “Enough. Make your decision, Valenka.” His voice lined with shadows, Hugo took a step forward and pushed the Jobberknoll quill into Valentin’s hand. The man’s hand was large, warm, forceful – just as Valya remembered – and as he took the feather, he recalled that Jobberknoll was indeed his father’s favorite. Despite the brevity of their hands touching, Val couldn’t help the pain in his heart as he wished for his father’s embrace. Even in the past, such contact had been rare and precious.

“Ich werde nicht unterschreiben. Plündere die Gewölbe anderer Narren.” “I won't sign. Plunder some other fool's vaults.” Offering the quill back to the blonde, Valentin sighed with abject loneliness. “Aber was für eine süße Illusion warst du...” “But what a sweet illusion you have been...” Looking over Hugo’s shoulder, Valentin wondered who the child was, now horizontal and fitfully sleeping on the warped floorboards before the fire.

“Wie unbequem.” “How inconvenient.” Hugo rolled his neck and yawned. “Es wird eine lange Nacht.” “It’s going to be a long night.”

Valentin couldn’t deny the sensation of also feeling a bit tired after a long day of travel. In fact, with the crackling of the fire and the shadows flickering around his father’s old piano, the white seeker felt an uncanny sense of calm overtake him. For once, he could feel the weight of the world slipping from his shoulders and, as if lulled by silent music, Valentin forgot why he had even been so concerned to begin with.

“Mach Sitz,” “Sit,” Hugo spat, as if instructing a dog, and Valentin sat. It felt so pleasant to rest, he thought. Even the splinters from the abused piece of furniture felt quaint and decorative. With the blonde man towering above, Valya could almost believe his presence was soothing, a family restored. At last the Frost Captain doesn't have to be the one making the decisions, Val smiled.

Val’s German: #680c08; Val’s Italian: #d64230 Hugo’s German: #5c150c; Kid’s Italian: #b9f5ff

Valentin awoke to a burning on his thigh, a stabbing pain in his shoulder, and crushing pressure across his torso. Opening his dry, aching eyes, he found himself tied to a chair with ample black rope. Its lustrous satin sheen suggested magical origin, and a pool of wax dripped from the table onto his leg with a quiet hiss. The candle had burned itself down to its base and its flaming wick contorted in its death throes.

With the turn of his head, the cold seeker found the room empty and the fireplace extinguished – he was alone. Yet, with his arms tightly bound, what could he do to free himself? A single quill lay on the desk, which would be a feat to pick up even with his teeth. The only feasible action seemed to be blowing out the candle before its wax could burn his leg any more. Yet, what if that tiny dying flame could somehow become his salvation? Valentin reasoned that the quill might be flammable, but what good would that do him now? With his ankles so secured to the legs of the chair by a separate rope, Valya couldn’t even move out of the path of dripping wax without knocking himself down. He had to credit his captor for the professionalism of his constraints. There was not even enough slack to throw his weight into hobbling the chair across the floor.

Valentin wondered if he would be left here in perpetuity. He wouldn’t starve before someone noticed him not returning to Durmstrang, but probably dehydration or freezing would do it. Looking around once more, Valentin found nothing else that could help him: his father’s piano, a gaping hole in the floor, wax and dust – certainly nothing sharp. Leaning forward against his restraints, Valentin tested his ability to angle the chair by extending his toes: he would have one chance at this. If he could just spread the fire from the dying candle, couldn’t he burn away his restraints?

Throwing his head and neck forward with all his force, Valentin’s boot toes scratched across the floor as his face fell into the table and his clavicles crashed into the desk’s sharp edge. Teetering on the edge of falling, Valya crawled his chin from side to side to try to reach the Jobberknoll feather with his lips and he felt adrenaline surging through his veins like acid. An angry shiver of his back warned of damaging his spine with the awkward angle, but he continued on, half-centimeter by centimeter, even sticking out his tongue to try to reach the quill. The little blue, black and white feather jostled at the edge of the boy’s seething breath, floating another centimeter out of reach. A small sound of desperation crawled out of Valya’s throat and he tipped down his head to try to calm his breathing.

It was nice to see the boys last night, even with how things went… I wonder… I wonder what they’re doing now… will they be happy this year? Maybe Rome will find his real parents. I wonder if Ginyami will go back to quidditch. What will happen to that boy… Bello? I hope… my team… No, I have to make this work. Think only of the objective. Enough of this. Valentin scraped his chin up and to each side as he wormed his way onward. The smell of hot candle wax filled his nostrils and he stifled a cough into completely holding his breath. Then, Valya opened his mouth and stretched as far forward as he could. Hooked fuzz caught in the chapped crags of his lips as he closed them onto the quill, but Valentin wasn’t an extreme lightweight anymore. The desk tilted to the side under his weight and clattered to the ground along with him in a loud crash that echoed throughout the house. In a splatter of wax, the candle extinguished itself even as Val tried to wriggle towards it, feather-in-mouth. Yet, the constraints remained taut as he could no longer leverage his body weight against gravity. With each flail of his body he grew no closer to the smoking wick that, in only a matter of moments, went completely cold. The moaning of floorboards announced the approach of someone from downstairs, but Valentin could not turn to face the entrance.

“Erbärmlich,” “Pathetic,” muttered Hugo through the doorway. “Ich hätte mir nicht einmal die Mühe machen sollen, zum Aufräumen zurückzukommen. Du würdest dich sicher auch ohne mich fertig machen.” “I shouldn’t have even bothered to come back to clean up. You would surely finish yourself off just fine without me.” Sighing, the visage of Valentin’s father came up to his side. In the otherwise perfectly silent room, the boy could hear him breathing. “Gibt es einen Grund, warum ich dich am Leben lassen sollte?” “Any reason I should keep you alive?”

Valya bit his lip, knowing that his captor had already procured more than two dozen contracts signing away his riches with accompanying “goodbye” notes to justify his new “vow of poverty” and upcoming disappearance. What other use could he provide alive now that his material wealth was assured? Anyone could retire with such sums and live sumptuously for the rest of their life without concerns of running out. Bitterness welling in the back of his throat, Valentin finally spat out the quill. After spending his life dedicated to raising others up, this final act of “generosity” was not really how he’d thought his life would conclude.

“Ein Freund hat mich gewarnt, dass alle nur darauf aus sind, einander zu benutzen. Ich schätze, ich hätte zuhören sollen,” “A friend warned me everyone is just out to use each other. Guess I should have listened,” replied Valentin.

“Das ist ein dummer letzter Gedanke. Nicht alles ist ein Nullsummenspiel, selbst wenn Sie dieses verloren haben. Was für eine hässliche Art zu sterben, und ich dachte, du wärst einer der wenigen, die wussten, wie man niemals alt wird. Wie schade.” “That’s a stupid final thought to have. Not everything is a zero sum game, even if you lost this one. What an ugly way for you to die, and here I thought you were one of the few who knew how to never grow old. What a pity.” The man sighed, and a ruffle of his coat hinted at the drawing of his wand.

“Du sprichst, als hättest du ein Herz.” “You speak as if you had a heart.” The strains of nostalgic bars of music flooded Valentin's mind as he recalled the tale of Scheherazade his father used to tell him before bed. Hugo's foot tapped at an odd tempo as the wood’s creaking flooded Valentin’s awareness with such sweet sound it may as well have been an orchestra.

What does a jobberknoll feel as it sings on its deathbed? wondered Valya, hearing the man squat down behind him. The end of Hugo’s wand jabbed into the back of the boy’s neck and Valentin’s silver eyes caught the waft of snow flakes beginning to fall outside through a shattered double window.

“Ich liebe mehr, als du dir überhaupt vorstellen kannst,” “I love more fully than you can even imagine,” came the reply as the jolt of a full-force flipendo blew Valentin across the room and crashing through the last remaining shards of window glass. All he could do was gasp before falling through the surface of the manor’s half-frozen lake and sinking, still tied to the heavy oaken chair as he spiralled into the dark depths.

07:08, December 26th, 2022

An hour before dawn, the sound of bursting glass and a terrible CRACK rang out across the grounds of the Schnell manor. With the property’s sprawling acreage abandoned, there were no neighbors to hear the commotion. After all, that was one of the reasons Hugo had kept the property– to play music at any volume at any hour and have no unexpected visitors during his creative binges. As the meager glow of the winter sun crept into the horizon, the biting -3°C (27°F) chill accompanied the wafting of snow flakes on the windless morning.

Valentin had arrived at the manor by a combination of methods: a Macmillan Cupboard from London to Berlin to Nuremberg, followed by a train ride to the Regensburg hub due to the loss of his father’s German portkey. While the manor was equipped with a fireplace accessible by floo powder, Valentin hadn’t trusted such a predictable arrival to not land him in a trap. This foresight would turn out for the better due to the structural disintegration of the manor; any travel through the chimney would likely trigger a collapse of its cracked stone and brick structure with untold damage on a would-be traveller. In fact, the entire building suffered from decay that would have been unbelievable for just two years of abandonment, even at the hands of magically-gifted squatters. While he might have been able to excuse the use of his mother’s flying carpet, Valentin didn’t want to risk the safety of the rare family heirloom, and his preferred broom was still out of commission due to repairs. Through a perfect storm of inconveniences, Valentin’s only reasonable means of leaving the area would have been walking to the local train station. Yet, tied tight to a chair and crashing through a hard layer of ice on his way to the bottom of the lake, such an escape route was all too distant now.

Fortunately, Durmstrang’s survival training, paired with Valentin’s willingness to use cold water immersion for athletic recovery, had given him impressive conditioning against cold shock response. Through years of training his body to cooperate during high-speed brushes with death for quidditch, Valentin would not fail to clutch under pressure when it counted now. Instead of inhaling panicked gasps of freezing water, the boy was already holding his breath and braced for impact before falling through the lake ice. Still, once the frigid water hit him, a fluttering in his heart warned Valentin that he couldn’t endure for long. His uselessly bound hands and feet immediately began losing sensation and control as his body began restricting heat to his torso, and time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. Although spared a heart attack and the worst reactions of cold shock response that killed the fastest, Valentin knew he would not survive if he remained submerged. He’d studied properly and knew that most people in this situation died within 15-30 minutes of immersion, if they could even breathe. Unable to push effectively against his restraints, Valentin focused on suppressing his impulse to shiver and tried to clear his mind to figure out how to make it out of the seemingly hopeless situation alive.

I need air… Know the spell but have no wand… I… miss the sky. Focus. I have someone to return to, don’t I? Have to live… don’t want him to be sad. Need to break free, how? How?

A scraping vibration through his leg alerted Valya to his arrival at the lake bottom. Calmly, calm... Although the boy tried to dig the toes of his boots into the soft silt as he held his breath, he sloughed off into an angle and skidded in slow motion to a stop through the dark sediment and onto his side. How… Unable to move anything but his neck, Valentin wondered if he should just try to savor his final moments. Memories from the Yule Ball passed through his mind’s eye for only a moment before Valya decided he had to keep trying no matter what. Dim light scattered in beams from the ice-sheet surface that was marred only by a 2-foot gap remaining after frozen chunks rose to fill the hole made by his fall. A broken-off leg from the chair’s impact remained lodged in the cracks above and the dark water revealed none of its depths due to shadows from its icy shroud above.

This is a PV thread for Ginyami Midorimori @Jack Burnett and Romeo Marchonné @Piérre Marchonné.

Valentin can survive 40 minutes of this kind of exposure but substantially less without breathing. Good luck and have fun!

Free Action: Trying to keep calm and think
Action: Holding breath
Inventory: Peach-colored cravat

Banner by Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

Roleplaying as Ginyami Midorimori from Mahoutokoro
"English | Japanese"

Ginyami had said he would trust Valentin to go alone to his old home in Germany, and he did. However, if he didn't go along with Valentin, Ginyami was of the opinion that meant he could go separately on his own after allowing the other boy a day's head start. If all went well, he could simply greet the seeker on his way back from the manor by surprising him with his presence. If it didn't...well. At least Ginyami wouldn't have to worry and wait for a dead body to return instead. He trusted Valentin to come back, but no one had said he promised to come back alive. Or in one piece.

The night after staying at Taohuayuan, he stuck around in London for another day and night before setting off after Valentin the following dawn. Since they weren't allowed to use their brooms outside of school, Ginyami largely used the floo powder network as transportation. From the train station, he walked, as Valentin had, to the address he had been given. In this way, he managed to arrive a few minutes before 7 am and waited outside the manor just inside of a treeline in front of it. He wanted to be able to spot Valentin once he emerged.

And emerge he did - though certainly not in the way Ginyami had expected him to. Narrow eyes widened as they focused on the familiar being tied to the chair that broke free from the mansion like a bird from a cage. After a short flight outward, however, it plummeted down, down, crashing into the frozen lake below where it broke the icy surface and began to sink.

Ginyami took a few precious seconds to process what he'd seen before he took off racing toward the newly-formed hole in the lake. Even as he ran, the ice that had been displaced began to bob back up again, threatening to close up the hole the chair had made. Fortunately, there was a piece of broken chair leg that floated up with the ice as if marking where the rest of it had pierced through. The Japanese boy ran so fast, he forgot to watch his step and slipped on the frozen water, sliding and causing the wand he had drawn from his pocket to get knocked out of his hand. He watched it roll into the hole made in the frozen lake and disappear into the dark water.

Cursing quietly, the black-haired teen scrambled back up to his feet and forced himself to calm down, forming a quick plan in his mind. Then, reaching for the bag slung across his shoulders, he opened it to retrieve two things: a switchblade and a clump of plant matter called gillyweed. He put the closed switchblade in the pocket of his pants his wand had been in and stuck the gillyweed in his mouth but did not chew or swallow. Next, he removed his bag and shed his coat, dumping them at the edge of the hole in the ice that Valentin had disappeared into. Finally, he steeled himself, took a deep breath through his nose, and dove into the hole and the freezing water right after the white seeker.

Kicking hard and using both arms to propel himself through the water, he sought to keep moving in order to avoid allowing the cold to get to him. Ginyami dove deep, wishing he'd had his wand to at least see where Valentin had fallen. There was light from above, but it was frail. It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually he felt the bottom and, after travelling in as straight a line as he could manage, he thought he felt Valentin. First his leg, then his arm...and there were the bindings that held him fast. Feeling farther up until he thought he could grab the sides of the albino boy's face with both hands, Ginyami surged forward to press his mouth to Valentin's, attempting to transfer the gillyweed as he had transferred the grape from the Thrills and Chills Bash months ago.

HP: 1100/1100
Stats: STA 11 / EVA 11 / STR 5 / WIS 7 / ARC 6 / ACC 11
Abilities: Charmer / Fearless / Foulplay / Evasive Maneuvers
Inventory: His wand, a switchblade, floo powder, a thick coat with pockets, a cloak, a set of clean clothes, a kit of plants including betony, centaury, belladonna, balm, aloe vera, dittany, chamomile, gingko extract, gillyweed, hemlock, and an enchanted bag to keep everything in
Action: Attempting to pass gillyweed from his mouth to Valentin's mouth
Interacting with: Valentin Schnell (@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood)

¤ | 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 & Ginyami Midorimori
@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood & @Jack Burnett

The way that the alarm clock sitting on my bedstand was ticking as incessantly as drips of water from a Chinese water torture device was sounding not terribly unlike a ticking time bomb to me.

After squinting through the shadow over the clock face and using the sparse moonlight that came in through the window, I decipher that the time is a little before six in the morning. Glancing across the room, I observe the shadowy bump in the extra large twin sized bed; but one of the small markers of my brother. That, as well as the softest whistles of breath and the rise and fall of the bump, made me think that Piérre was still asleep and would likely stay asleep for a little while still. The pale fur of his Hellcat reflected every fragment of moonlight that came in through the window; I became aware of eyes that sparkled as the head lifted from it's little curled ball. I really did not like the way that cat looked at me sometimes, as if it was expecting me to do something unexpected and give it yet another reason to beset itself upon me. Or, maybe it was possible that the creature was looking at the thing in my fingers that was metallic enough to reflect light; a small, golden, heart-shaped locket that I was turning in both hands but unwilling to open again.

I kept staring into that creature's eyes, before in a low voice I started to speak to it quietly so as not to disturb my brother. "And what did you make of it, you diavoletto? Little Devil" My voice rumbled a little bit as I raised a brow. "Does your kind understand love in the same or similar way as us?" I asked it and watched as the cat subsequently yawned and then continued to stare at me like a statue. "What would you hear if I opened this locket for you?"

The tooth-like enamel under my thumb was just rigid enough that it felt that it could cut if I pushed hard enough on it; or maybe I would break the delicate hinge and the soft metal. It was hard to tell with these antique sort of things. Why in God's name had Piérre thought that this was a good thing to purchase as a Christmas gift of all things? Had it been as a joke, because he was absentminded, because he wanted to make fun of me, or was it for some other reason? Sometimes I couldn't tell when he was being legitimate or when he was simply inculcating a formulate joke. Was the magic of this object even legitimate? How much stock could I place in the authenticity of this supposed enchantment that had been claimed by my brother to have been bought in what he said was a "Pawn Shop" of some sort.

What was its prior story, I wondered, if it had been traded to the pawn shop? What had been the fate of the person who had sold it, and what kind of tale could they have told of their experiences with it? Had they experienced heartbreak because of it? Perhaps something in their perception of their "True Love" had run afoul. Maybe they had lost their True Love and the loss of that person had resulted in pain so great with this object they could not longer bear to keep it with them. Regardless of the story, it was mine now... and I was exceptionally curious as to what my experiences with it so far could possibly mean.

I thought for a moment about opening it again, to make sure that I wasn't insane and that I had heard what I thought I had heard... but thought better of it and instead sighed as I continued to turn the locket in my left hand, my right arm behind my head so as to cradle it as I lay on my back. No, I couldn't tempt myself like that; not right now.

Despite the falling out from the night of the 24th, I couldn't help but think about the things that I had heard from Valentin and from Ginyami on that night... how upset Valentin had been; how cold. Ginyami... that strange, enigmatic individual that I couldn't quite get a bearing on but certainly did not trust as far as I could throw him (perhaps it would be better to say that I didn't trust him as far as he could throw himself, I was fairly certain I could throw an individual like him rather easily if I wanted to). I didn't oppose Valentin having friends, he certainly deserved more individuals that cared about him enough to fight for and with him... but Ginyami was new, strange, and I didn't know him well enough to trust him and Valentin based on what little I knew. I wanted to make sure that Valentin was safe; that he was able to flourish and thrive... and live.

I wanted him to live.

Could Ginyami ensure his protection? Did he know enough about Valentin to know that that swift-spirited bludger of a person couldn't be easily caught by shallow formalities and empty words? His poison towards me on that night had certainly proved it; Valentin believed that I had lied to him, after all... This was how he treated those that he felt had lied to him... Valentin's soul, his mind, his feelings were something that I didn't totally comprehend or understand both because of my sometimes blockheaded nature and because I didn't feel that I had the right to pry into his dreams outside of the ones that he shared with me... and he had shared many...

And I had on more than one occasion turned them away for his sake. I could take care of myself; I always had, for me and my brother. Perhaps... I didn't trust Valentin enough... Maybe I didn't give him enough confidence...

But that was impossible to believe with the information that I had gleaned from Valentin of arson and mysterious demands. This was blackmail. This was terrorism. That was not something anyone should go through. Was it because of who Valentin was? Was it because he was of a high status with money and potential power? Perhaps being nothing had helped me survive so far, being a nobody in the eyes of the entire wizarding world. I never suffered such political or seismically catastrophic experiences besides tragedies, but even these eventually melted into the grey of my life's experience and formulated my viewpoint of the world and how it was that I approached it. I wanted safety for myself, but more for those that I cared for and cherished most. I had fallen short of that dream so many times... failed those people so much...

If Valentin did indeed plan to follow through with his intents... If he had no plan, no contingency, if he did go alone against something or someone too great for him to handle...

My hand closed on the locket and formed a fist as I pressed its knuckles to my lips. "Dannazione, Valentin. Damn you, Valentin." I whispered to it, my throat tight as I squeezed my eyes shut. I shook my head with a breathless sigh before opening my eyes again and glancing at the clock. When I find myself unable to tell what time it was exactly, I closed my eyes in resignation before swinging my feet over the too-short-for-me plus sized twin bed and tried to avoid as many as the creaky floorboards as I could so as not to wake my brother as I tried to find a half-clean sweatshirt to throw on. I couldn't just as well go out topless in the middle of the night or into the house of Valentin. I had had experience with Kazan's mansion, I could only assume that his home in Germany was similar.

A pair of ankle-high socks and a pair of athletic shoes would be good enough... In the pocket of my hoodie I had my medicine notebook, the note from Valentin that I had been hiding in it from the greedy hands of Piérre, and the locket was stuffed into one of the pockets of the pair of grey sweatpants that I had worn to bed. I had to visit Valentin tonight, had to make sure that he was safe; if the threats were empty, there was no need for me to fear as Valentin would be there safe and sound. If they weren't... That wasn't something that I wanted to think about.

I knew where Mathilda kept the Floo powder. She didn't lock it up because she wanted us to be able to go to our friends' houses. Not that either of us did, of course... but it had been an important thing to learn how to use. However, I didn't know where she kept our wands. Even if I did, I doubted that they would be in position for me to claim.

It was more than likely that Maddie would wake up soon to take stock of the house and to start doing a bit of work... Perhaps it would be best if I left a note. This I did; a very basic message: Visiting Valentin Schnell at his estate (Schnell Manor) in Regensburg, Germany. I took enough Floo powder for a round trip; will be back before evening. ~R

Hopefully that would be enough. I didn't plan on staying for too long; I just wanted to make sure that Valentin was alright and then I would be on my way... even though the locket was weighing heavily in my pocket even as I crossed to the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder and with another small bottle of it in my other sweatpants pocket for when I had to return home.

With sweating hands that I dried on my pants, I took a deep breath and ducked my head as I entered into the pristinely kept fireplace. Fixing the shimmering green powder with a narrowed glare, as if threatening it to send me to the place that I requested, I spoke as clearly as I could to it as I tilted my hand and let it fall through my fingers like sand through an hourglass. "Schnell Manor, Regensburg Germany."

With a whooshing of air and the crackling of brilliant green flames that licked my clothes without damaging them, I felt not terribly unlike smoke flying out through the chimney as the enchantments of this specialized powder took me away from my house... away from London... It was disorienting, feeling as if I was a million different pieces that were all dissociated yet all together, I could sense every individual piece, yet was more than aware of feeling ash and soot slipping by me as if I were being sprinkled with chalkdust from above. A strange tug at the bottom of my stomach, a grounding sensation, and suddenly I was no longer discorporate but rather very whole indeed and stumbling forward in an attempt to catch my momentum.

But of course, that would result in the cracking of my head on the siding of the fireplace that I trundled out of, producing a twin for the amusement of the pre-existing goose-egg that was already there from when I had hit my head on the shelf overhang just last night when Piérre had first presented me with the locket that was safe inside of my pocket. Well, that was pleasant.

Coughing heavily as soot and smoke streaked me from a highly unmaintained chimney and fireplace, I waved my hands in front of me blindly as I tried to blink rapidly in an attempt to clear my sights and make sense of my bearings. Debris was beneath my feet, as I clipped my shins on some of the fallen wood and stone that sprinkled the floor haphazardly. I could hear cracking and shifting of the wood, stone, and plaster of the fireplace behind me; it was more than likely it could collapse at any second... It was collapsing, and I couldn't get out of the way as it rained down on me and battered my form ruthlessly. Entire bricks slammed into me as I tried to cover my head with my hands. Over the sounds of crashing and cracking, of the bricks and mortar collapsing the frail fireplace, there was also a crash like a marcato from somewhere else; a sound of something breaking accompanied by a splash... was this mansion built over a lake or pond?

I sneezed once, then twice as the hazy environment began to clear (hopefully) with myself bearing some brand new bruises. Rapidly looking about me at the state of what could have been a dilapidated and ancient building on its last legs before collapse, I called out quietly to the vicinity while trying to drag myself out of the fireplace now newly shaken and sore. At this point the fact that I could no longer go back to my home via the use of this now-ruined fireplace and the depths of my concern were the only things pushing me forward. I had to find Valentin here. "V-Val?" Surely he was here, right? This is where he said that he was planning on going to the evening before, right...? Why would anyone want to be in a place this cold, empty, and ghostly on the brightest day of the year, the beautiful day of Christmas, was beyond me... but I had to see if he was still here. Surely he wasn't; surely he would not have stayed the night here, but I knew that Val was fond of stranger. It was not too terribly out of the ordinary for him, I supposed. Finding a little more confidence in my voice, I called out again, this time a little louder. "Valentin, are you here? I-I wanted to swing by and check up on you. And explain.. and..." Embarrassed, I paused for a moment before piping up again. "Apologize for... for a few things."

Action: Enter, Be Ouched by the Fireplace;
Investigate Immediate Vicinity for Valentin/for signs of Valentin

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 881/900 | 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

Inventory:

Ω Letter from Valentin | True Love's Locket | Medicine Notebook | Floo Powder Ω
Ω Clothing (Pajama/Nightwear): Grey Sweatpants | Hooded Sweatshirt Ω

After connecting from Berlin to Nuremberg by cupboard, Ginyami took a wizard-line train to Regensburg and then to a small town at the edge of the Königssee lake. Watzmann Mountain and surrounding peaks towered around him as he emerged, and a local baker pointed the Japanese boy up a path that wound past a waterfall and up into the mountains aglow with pre-dawn color. Had Ginyami taken the wrong path, he could have easily ended up in Austria, but his instructions were simple. A small church was the last vestige of civilization he would find for several minutes before stumbling upon an unusually warm glen tucked away within the arms of the Berchtesgaden Alps. Behind a gated perimeter, a half-frozen lake reclaimed the sunken wreckage of a bridge pointing to the manor behind it. Wisps of mountain tassel flowers were just beginning to emerge in pockets of warm earth while leathery moonwort ferns flooded other patches of overgrowth. One had to wonder, in the depths of December, if there wasn’t a magic to this place that kept back the harsher bouts of alpine snowdrift.

Reducio

A row of beech trees overshadowed the Japanese visitor once he pushed through the warped iron gates of the manor, and it became clear that this was to be no ordinary holiday visit. For as wealthy as the Schnell family was known to be in economic and tabloid newspapers, the decrepit state of this property suggested an affliction’s tendrils sank far deeper than recent catastrophe. Even with the most wild visitations by magic-wielding ruffians, the property must have been abandoned for almost a decade. Not only did tangles of vines tear chunks of the main building asunder, but each horizontal stone surface bore clods of moss and a dark green haze. Through a broken central window on the third floor, a bright splotch of orange and brown drew Ginyami’s eye to a mangy kitten watching his approach. The stray jumped back inside, however, as the the remains of the second floor’s central window exploded outwards in shards.

The Mahoutokoro boy watched as Valentin, still tied to a chair, flew out of the manor house and crashed through the hard surface of the lake. However shocked he may have been, Ginyami still ran quickly towards the dark hole into which the seeker disappeared. Hailing from a warmer climate, though, the fox was not prepared for the slick surface of the ice and slipped. The boy’s wand flew through the ice and disappeared into its watery depths, and with the impact of his falling body came another crack of the ice beneath him. He scrambled to his feet and reflexively ran forward before the damaged patch beneath him could swallow him up when it crumbled. However, Ginyami’s bag was not so lucky.

Once he’d dumped his possessions onto the surface of the lake, the underlying thin ice buckled, allowing the waters to claim every one of his bag’s items for itself. As the satchel sank, its items fell from its open mouth and wafted out individually into the lake. His coat also began to slip into the water but, porous with warm air as it was, it floated dutifully and awaited reclamation. This was not its time, however, since Ginyami had other priorities in mind. The boy leapt into the frigid pool with gillyweed in his mouth and a switchblade in his pocket. [All other inventory items except his coat will require a successful search of the lake before he can use any of them again.]

Although the Japanese boy hailed from warmer lands, through pure resolve and the boon of gillyweed, Ginyami avoided most of the effects of cold shock response. He would, however, feel the fluttering of his heart warning him not linger, at risk of death. Less acclimated to freezing than his Durmstrang friend, Ginyami’s body could survive for 19 minutes in the water before succumbing to unconsciousness and death by exposure. Luckily, the fox had seen Valentin’s trajectory as he entered the water and estimated where inside the icehole the seeker ended up. It took only three minutes to reach the seeker.

Ginyami grasped Valentin’s boot first, followed by where Val’s right hand lay trapped against his leg beneath smooth black bindings, and then the side of his face. The albino’s exposed skin and hair glowed brighter than their surroundings, making it easier to see his startled expression as Ginyami attempted to transfer gillyweed to the seeker’s mouth.

Valentin only had to hold his breath for three minutes before hands pawed at his body through the twisting strands of waterthyme (Hydrilla) lining the bottom of the lake. Their long sprigs and the soft silt had cushioned the last of his fall, but the plants tangled amply around him over the course of his skidding arrival. Arriving from above, Ginyami managed to avoid entrapment by the thickest of the wafting tendrils surrounding Valentin, and when finer bunches clumped around his arms they split away with the force of the Mahoutokoro boy’s limbs.

Unable to turn his head far enough to see what was happening to him, Valentin could only presume that a Nixie had claimed the manor’s abandoned lake and would now have its way with him. Two bubbles escaped Valya’s lips as he remembered his father’s stories about the victims such drowners claimed through the ages, but almost completely bound as he was, Valentin could not even kick his feet effectively to get away. When a humanoid face appeared in front of him, mouth covered in plant matter and black hair twisting ominously through the water, Valya decided this must be it for him: death by water sprite, learning firsthand whatever lurid details were left out of the childrens’ stories.

As the creature pressed his vegetal mouth to Val’s, however, the characteristic taste of gillyweed shrouded his tongue. Blinking through the water’s fog of disturbed silt, Valentin took a breath. Could it be a Göl iyesi, a lake master, granting him clemency? When he was a toddler, Valentin’s mother once made him throw a loaf of bread into this very lake as an offering. At the time, he’d thought it silly, but now… pulling in a draw of air through the gillyweed, Valentin’s oxygen-deprived and black-spotted vision cleared. Ginyami’s face came into focus, and Val’s eyes widened with amazement. All he could manage was to nod his head in gratitude and look hopefully at Ginyami’s hands. Empty. Perhaps he had something in his pocket? Filling his lungs with oxygen in newly confident gasps, Valentin prepared himself in case he needed to pass back the gillyweed if the other boy grew near to running out of oxygen.

The time is now 07:12 AM.

Romeo’s instructions to his floo powder did not need to be as elaborate as the address Valentin had sent him by owl before departing for the Sato Yule Ball. Even without the side-eye Romeo gave the green powder, anyone who was anyone in Germany or knew the first thing about continental Europe’s wizard music scene knew of the Schnell line. There was only one such manor possible to travel to in all Bavaria, and it was there that Romeo arrived with a gusto. While Valentin had avoided the predictable chimney method, fearing he would fall into a trap, he had no way of knowing how coincidentally warranted such concern was.

Although no trap awaited the Italian beater, the decrepit state of the fireplace couldn’t withstand the arrival of one well-built 6’2” (188 cm) athlete. Were the chimney in well-kept conditions, Romeo would not have had to even lower his head to exit the German precision-engineered entryway, but with its foundations cracked and sunk-in under the weight of the building, a low shelf hung in front of his head where none should be. He ran forehead-first into this obstacle, further provoking the chimney’s structural integrity and causing it to rain down upon him in chunks of brick and mortar. Shielding his head and neck with his beefy arms protected Romeo from jogging his skull further but left his shoulders and back to bear the brunt of the damage as he stumbled out from the fireplace’s complete collapse. Floo powder here could not provide a return journey without extensive chimney repairs by a specialist.

Staggering across the debris and sneezing on the ash-choked air, Romeo came away with only scrapes and bruises and began calling out for Valentin. As he peered through the dust cloud, the outlines of a devastated second-floor room gradually came into view: a giant hole in the floor to the left exhibited a pile of rubble on the first floor, a weathered piano stood between the fireplace (19) and the shattered windows, and exits leading to twin stairwells stood at either side of the fireplace in the form of graffiti-soaked oak doors. Each stairwell led both up and down, but large piles of rubble would have to be removed before the third floor could be accessed either way. Although he wouldn’t see it yet, a nearly identical piano stood on the first floor directly below the one Romeo saw on the second floor; both were oriented at precisely the same angle as if in testament to its owner’s obsessive particularities. Rooted to the floor in this rigidly consistent angle, it seemed the pianos were enchanted to not be moved even in the slightest from their intended positions. In his search for traces of Valentin, Romeo recognized the wrinkled remains of the note Val showed to him at the Yule Ball, now laying on the ground near a corner desk that had fallen onto its side. A burned-out candle melted from the desk’s edge into its splattered remains on the ground, next to which lie a bright blue jobberknoll feather quill. Books littered the floor, some of which lay open to fresh undamaged pages, and a sliced-off clump of familiar white hair scattered in strands around the fallen, chairless desk. The rest of Valentin was nowhere to be found, but a loud crack of ice outside suggested that something was happening beyond the broken windows in front of him.

Once the dust cleared, Romeo would see a strikingly handsome blonde man in posh attire to his right in front of the side door with a black, fluted wand in his left hand. The ebony wand looked expensive and was pointed directly at Romeo’s hands– apparently the blonde had also been waiting for the dust to clear in order to have a clean lock on his target.

“[Petrificus Totalus,]” he stated with a hint of amusement, redacted and Romeo was too slow to dodge it. redacted If he did not concentrate on balancing his weight to remain standing, the athlete’s feet would topple him as they moved together redacted . Of equal height, the blonde man stood eye-to-eye with Romeo as he calmly tucked a bundle of scrolls he was carrying into an inner coat pocket.

“Who gave a muggle the floo powder?” sneered the man in English with a pronounced German accent, looking over Romeo’s choice of clothing with more humor than derision. “By your accent and the shape of your face, you must Italian. How funny. I see that Valentin didn’t come alone after all, but rather made it easy to isolate you one at a time. Ah, little Valenka, a liar and a fool. Didn’t get enough spanking as a child, clearly. So you’re the company he keeps, hm? Let’s have a look at you.” Stepping closer to Romeo, Hugo cocked his head to the side and smiled, examining. “Mmn, a fine specimen indeed. A few years from now you’ll be quite a catch, but are you any more clever than he was? Did you prepare anything to entertain me with, or have I no use for you at all?” Leaning in only inches away from the Italian’s face, the man’s iron-grey eyes stared sharply into Romeo’s pupils as the ebony wand, still trained on him redacted . With very little slack with which to breathe, the beater felt the air growing progressively thinner for him.

“What were you to him, I wonder? Too slow to protect him, too dim to keep him from coming here in the first place. Don’t tell me you’re his newest servant, selected just for the circumference of your biceps. Actually, perhaps that is what you’re best cut out for. There are some heavy things I need moved, some people I need disabled. Yes, I think I’ll keep you. First, though, let’s see what gifts you’ve brought me to mark your entry into my service.”

With the beater’s arms bound uselessly to his sides, Hugo stood only inches away as he tried to jam his hands in redacted to rifle through his grey sweatpant pockets.

Valentin’s exposure survival time remaining: 37 minutes.
Ginyami’s exposure survival time remaining: 18 minutes.

Val’s Action: Filling up his store of oxygen to be ready to relinquish the gillyweed if needed
Val’s Inventory: Peach-colored cravat

Hugo’s Action: Binding Romeo with [Petrificus Totalus]
Hugo’s Free Action: Beginning to search Romeo’s pockets for things to steal; this action will complete next turn due to rolling initiative

Banner by Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

Roleplaying as Ginyami Midorimori from Mahoutokoro
"English | Japanese"

Once Valentin seemed to accept the gillyweed, Ginyami thought he saw the other boy nod his head and he nodded back. Then he reached into his pocket to take out the one item left to him since his bag had fallen into the lake - his switchblade. Though he couldn't be sure the magical-looking black ropes could be cut, he had to try.

Using one hand to hold the chair steady and one hand to switch open the blade, the Japanese boy then attempted to saw away at the bonds. As he did so, his mind raced with what might have happened the previous night to lead up to the events of that morning. It seemed Valentin must not have spent such a wonderful Christmas with his father after all. Had he even encountered his father? What had Valentin's captor thought to bind him to a chair like this? Why had he decided the best way to be rid of Valentin was by drowning?

Could the chair crashing through the window have been an accident of some sort? No, it couldn't have been or else someone other than Ginyami would have gone to try to fetch the albino teenager by then, wouldn't they have? Perhaps some other struggle ensued within the manor walls and going after Valentin hadn't been an option.

Black hair swirling about his face, the noiret paused a moment to push it out of his eyes so he could see more clearly and didn't accidently cut Valentin in the process of trying to free him. A small stream of bubbles left his lips as he tried to manage his air as best he could. He figured the lack of oxygen to his lungs would likely kill him faster than exposure to the freezing lake water would, so he tried to stay calm and focus on holding his breath as he worked.

HP: 1100/1100
Stats: STA 11 / EVA 11 / STR 5 / WIS 7 / ARC 6 / ACC 11
Abilities: Charmer / Fearless / Foulplay / Evasive Maneuvers
Inventory: a switchblade
Action: Attempting to cut the black rope tying Valentin to the chair
Interacting with: Valentin Schnell (@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood)

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné [6'2" | 193lbs]

"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

At least I had been quick enough to save myself from the worst of the buffeting bricks and cinder that had fallen down on me; it would not have done to have been knocked unconscious so quickly... but that did lead me to worry more and more about the condition of the rest of this household... The dilapidated state of the building made me worried that I would have to watch my step, something that I sometimes struggled to do simply because of my build and my height. I had to evacuate the immediate fireplace out of fear of the chimney collapsing on me further, and I did; yet what I saw before me was no better than what I had seen before.

The disaster of the interior strangely brought into the forefront of my mind the state of my twin's room when we had been tykes in Florence. While his room had been made up more of random things that had haphazardly strewn the ground without being cleaned up for months at at time, though, the Schnell manor was not only a disaster area but also a testament of total abandonment for what appeared to be several years. The one area that appeared to be in the best condition of everything that I saw covered in graffiti-- perhaps left by unknowing muggles or magical hobos (if those existed?)-- was a tipped table that looked to have been supporting a plethora of books that were now spilled with carelessness across the ground. A part of me wanted to investigate them to see superficially what was held in them, but my attention was more quickly attracted towards a brilliant speckled blue feather quill that I recognized it by its spotted bluish pattern similar to a bluejay; it was likely Jobberknoll in origin, it appeared. A melted candle burned down all the way to the bottom of its wick, likely naturally extinguished though I didn't know how recently. Sprinkled around the area too was pale strands of hair, thin yet fluttery in the drafts of the immediate vicinity accompanied by the wrinkled and almost illegible note that I had seen from last night.

Valentin had been here. That was his fair hair.

My heart beat a little faster as I tried to piece together the clues in the vicinity. Where was the rest of Valentin? That sudden crack I had heard like glass shattering?

Head snapping about so I could gain more of my bearings, there was a flicker of movement that caught my eye. Stiffening a bit as I tried to discern who it was that had stumbled across me, I saw first the elegantly crafted jet black wood of a wand that was pointed towards me. Without realizing it, I quickly ran through the different types of wood that were able to grant a polished color such as handsome as it; certainly varnish and staining could produce a dark hue such as it, but my first guesses were black walnut, blackthorn, or ebony.

Before I could move to evade or to reposition, that wand danced in the hands of the elder wizard before me and produced a binding spell that very quickly caught me first in the hands and then quickly exploded across the rest of my body. With an audible huff, I felt my extremities cinch to my trunk and my legs lock together at the ankles. The best I could do to think fast was to slam my shoulder to the remaining parts of the fireplace that could withstand a blow and lean against it, already feeling my unconscious reaction to the magic restraints being to struggle against them and test my bulk against the binding. Teeth bared slightly, I marveled at the fine conjuring and the precision of its ability to half-petrify me so that my hands to my sides yet seemed well enough to speak. Damn me and my awful ability to slip out of the way of an attack altogether, but I doubted that even if I had done my best I could have prevented the unerring accuracy of a much more experienced wizard's petrification curse.

My eyes flicked evenly to his as he drew close. Thought me a muggle, did he? "What gives you that impression? Was it the pajamas? It was the pajamas, wasn't it." I shot back with an attempt of bravado accompanied by a tight grin. Well, he wasn't entirely misguided, I supposed... but it should have been rather obvious that that could never be the case as I had managed to use Floo powder to begin with. An insult, most definitely, though one that I didn't have the energy to try and rebut at this particular moment in time.

Why was it that whenever a person managed to gain a leg up on another person they immediately felt the need to enter into a monologue displaying their own ingenuity? Well, not that I minded, I was learning more and more just from trying to pay attention while also uselessly attempting to wiggle my fingers at my sides so I could get a better grasp on the magically conjured bind and thereby free myself from them. Honestly, all I had to give for the time being was simply frustrated speechlessness; I didn't have time for petty insults or how arguably creepy this circumstance was. I felt more like I was being leered at like a raptor sizing up a rabbit and I wanted out of the situation.

So, Valentin had been here... but wasn't anymore; and I was beginning to suspect that that fact had something to do with my current antagonist. "Clever? Well, I do try to pay attention to my studies; caught me off guard a bit. Lovely dueling-quality ebony wand by the way, I don't suppose you have any idea where Valentin is, do you? Helping out a friend of his and all?" I jibed at the circumstance. "This is really not necessary. I'm fully capable of speaking like a civil person."

In stubborn silence, I took the verbal abuse, my brows creasing heavily as I coldly stared right back into his steely eyes. Too slow to protect him, too dim to keep him from coming here... But I had tried... I had tried so hard, and I had wanted to help him. I could not control something that did not want to be controlled, that wanted to fly on its own; free and unfettered. I had no right to bind what would not be bound, even if I wanted the best for him. I could only guide, I could only suggest, and I could only recommend, but the choice was his alone. That alone would have been enough for insult, but the remark of my physicality being my only saving grace was overtly rude even for my patience. I was not just my brutish strength I didn't think... Surely that was not what everyone else saw if they looked at me, was it? "You seem to think I'll be a bruiser for you, but I don't seem to remember signing a contract to be indentured. If I did, I sure didn't give you permission to pickpocket me." I shot back, angling my head downwards and watching as the man's hands attempted to search my pockets.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." I warned, remembering that in my left pocket was the True Love's Locket and in my right was the Floo powder... the medicine notebook and note from Valentin in my hoodie pocket... I couldn't let him get to the locket. That item was the most important thing that I had on my body next to my medicine notebook. As for the Floo powder... well... it didn't seem that I would be leaving the mansion by that method anytime soon, so the holding onto of the green powder was somewhat moot at this point.

With the crown of my head staged at his face level from my 'deferent' movements prior, I attempted to time my (likely) one attack just right. If I was clever enough, I lined up my aim with the top of my head directly at his nose and with a sudden jerk forward would attempt to ram my head as hard as I could directly into his face in an attempt to perform a desperate self-defensive maneuver that was cheap and an oldie but a goodie for my current state of affairs. Regardless of whether or not I had made good on my attempted blow, perhaps at the least I had caused the gentleman to think twice before trying to make another advance on me. "I'm a minor." I snarled. I was not helpless, and if anyone thought I was going to take an assault or an encroachment of my personal safety they were begging for a broken nose just as much as this man was. I valued my self defense, and at this moment was more than grateful that I knew how to use my body effectively.

If I had to fight with one hand behind my back, I would. As long as it took, no matter what it took. I didn't go down without a fight; I never had. Danger was present; where there was danger present I was there ready to stand up and take action. Submission had never suited me, and it sure wouldn't start now.

Action: Attempting to Break Hugo's Nose with a Headbutt (Martial Artist "Punch"?)
Internally hoping that this will prevent him from getting his hands on the True Love's Locket

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 870/900 | 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

Inventory:

Ω Letter from Valentin | True Love's Locket | Medicine Notebook | Floo Powder Ω
Ω Clothing (Pajama/Nightwear): Grey Sweatpants | Hooded Sweatshirt Ω