From Dark Waters Durmstrang Arrival Thread

english | russian

The icy air had turned Amina's cheeks pink and she was almost certain that the tip of her nose was glowing like Rudolf the reindeer. As soon as possible, she had rushed onto the deck to face the shores. Five o'clock in the morning was not normally her time, but the young Bulgarian had been writhing in anticipation for a week. And that's why she was now on fire and wide awake. Although she missed the people who had left the team, she was also proud to take the place next to Valentin. Yeffy had been a great champion - no question. But she had never doubted for a second that Valentin was the right choice. In principle, she was not the type for melancholy and liked to look forward instead of grieving about the past. The new team was great! The old one too - but now she was really part of it and not just there to cheer! Had it bothered her briefly that she had not been Valentin's special person? Naturally. Did she still feel special? Of course she did. So, what was the problem? She couldn’t wait to be back at that castle and meet all of the nice people she had gotten to know last time.

Bouncing happily up and down on the balls of her feet, she leaned over the railing and waved at the Hogwarts students with inappropriate enthusiasm for the time of day. She felt like she was nearly bursting with anticipation, and it spilled from every pore of her body. "Oops!"
She had leaned dangerously far forward and momentarily lost her balance. Giggling, she leaned back, hands still on the railing, and bent over so far that she could see her teammates upside down. Her light green eyes sparkled with joy. She had already taken off her cap and her hair was unruly around her head. She had thrown on the warm red cloak, but she had also rejected gloves. The cool air gave her the feeling of being alive and awakened her spirits.
For a moment she just stayed like it, then she pulled herself back up and hopped back to her teammates, probably looking like an eight year old that was expecting a nice birthday cake.

With a wide grin she came to a halt next to Valentin and Slava. Yet she was not able to stop moving so she kept bouncing on the spot. With a quick movement she hooked up with both of them, if they would allow it, and turned with sparkling eyes to the white seeker, her captain and champion who happened to also be her best friend.
"Are you excited? Are you? I am! This will be great!” The last words were really meant for the whole audience.
Then she gently elbowed Slava into the side and turned her head to him. "And you? Did you study the dance that we prepared to thank the Hogwarts students for their warm welcome?” There was no dance. Her grin turned a little bit mischievous, but then she suddenly decided to show a little bit more dignity.

Standing up straight, she looked like a warrior preparing for a fight. Her eyes were fixed on the shores as she proudly stood with the Durmstrang gang. Another elbow bump was delivered, this time to Valentin."You are a fine champion. We will continue our way of glory!”

Interacting | whole Durmstrang Team, but specifically with Valentin (@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood) and Slava (@Ruby Cazares)

open to interactions

Permission to godmode Valentin and Slava to be there and to be interacted with

TIME ┊ 5:15am-----OUTFIT ┊ click here-----HAIR ┊ click here-----MENTIONS ┊ Nobody?!-----
STATUS ┊ open-----WC ┊ 207/200-----ENGLISH ┊ "words"-----DUTCH ┊ "words"-----THOUGHTS ┊ "words"

-----The ship rose from the water. Stormy rushed to the deck of the ship just in time to see the last bit of snow fall off the ship. He could see Hogwarts outline in the distance. He shuttered from excitement, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. This was really it where she had been all this time they were apart from each other. The anticipation was killing him, he couldn't wait to see her warm smile again. The cold wind whipped by his face yet Stormy felt all warm inside. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a girl waving furiously at the crowd. He rolled his eyes and walked toward her as he hadn't seen Alaric this morning. He could wait to have him meet Phantom. Phantom was a sweet girl with ginger hair that had become his closest friend during the loss of his mother. Before moving away he had confessed his love for her. he hoped she was the same innocent girl he had to protect from the world he would however soon find out that he was wrong. It was only natural that time would change them but he hoped that their relationship was still strong.

==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky Dialogue in this post is in Russian unless stated otherwise Open to interactions

Slava hummed as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, excited for his arrival at Hogwarts. The boat that they were transported on never got old—it was still just as exciting to him now as it was the first time he had experienced it. He was wide awake and ready to annoy people, the fact that it was still dark outside just a minor detail that meant nothing to him. “Isn’t this cool? Aren’t you enjoying this? This marks the start of a new adventure!” he said in Russian to anyone on the Durmstrang ship who was listening, a grin on his face. In reality, the “adventure” was only semi-new, the reason for their trip to Hogwarts being the continuation of the Hexwizard Tournament, a competition that he would indirectly be a part of now, having joined as a backup team member after Valentin’s encouragement.

A small part of him was nervous, having seen what had happened to Mikael in the first task. But everything would be okay, right? There were adults and mediwizards nearby when it was going on. They wouldn’t let anything too bad happen, surely? So he was safe, and ready to have fun and watch Durmstrang achieve victory and glory, as it was always meant to. He paced the deck idly, bouncing every now and then as he waited for the ship to come to a halt and for people to start making their way down to the shore.

His eyes would settle on his redheaded friend, the only one who seemed to share quite the same amount of energy and excitement as he did. “Minya, just think of how amazing this is going to be! I wonder what the next task will be? And I hear there’s a ball.” He would pause and, if Amina allowed him to, he would take his friend’s hand and spin her around. She asked him if he had studied the dance to give the Hogwarts students as a thanks for the welcome and he groaned. “Солнышко^[1], you ruined the moment.”

She would not understand the context behind his reaction—a failed prank another trickster he was awfully fond of had decided to try to play on him once. Margo had tried to convince him that Hogwarts had a dance they performed before their Quidditch matches, trying to convince him to show her Durmstrang’s “dance” in preparation for the international Quidditch game between schools back in 2020. While their conversation—a battle of wits—had gone well and led to them eventually becoming close, this was just too weirdly similar a situation for his liking. “Not falling for that again,” he mumbled, but it was lighthearted and he was clearly not upset. “Although… if there is a dance, maybe you can demonstrate it for me? Wouldn’t want me to be left out, so you’d better teach it to me quickly…” he suggested more loudly, his tone full of false sweetness as he batted his eyelashes at her. He couldn’t resist it, even if he wasn’t going to make this into the extended back and forth he and Margo had had.

She turned to Valentin and Slava did too. He crossed in front of Amina, moving the few steps with a bounce to take his place at Valentin’s side and lay a hand on the champion’s shoulder encouragingly. «Да! Слава!» “Yes! Glory!” he cried enthusiastically, raising his fist in the air dramatically and then grinning at Valentin. The word for glory being the same as the diminutive that Slava used as his name was something that he found endlessly amusing, but he refrained from making a comment on that right now. The others would have undoubtedly heard that many a time, his pride and perhaps slight arrogance leading him to make many a lighthearted comment praising himself and painting himself in the best light. And his charm—as he believed his attitude to be—would surely extend to impressing all the Hogwarts students who hadn’t yet had the good fortune to meet him. Well, today was their chance.

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné [6'5" | 198lbs]

"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 |

None

Below deck for most of the night, I had finally snatched a few hours of shuteye before the underwater ship would surface in Hogwarts' Great Lake. With my trunk underneath my bed and the sometimes stomach-churning rocking of the ship, I had entered a somewhat tumultuous state of sleep that had forced me to press my back to the wall and bring my knees up to my chest ever so slightly so that I could somewhat mitigate the extreme rocking motion while also trying to physically fit on a cot intended for a below deck living space.

While the rooms of the boat were expansive, the doorways and the cots were... uh... humble to say the least. Humble in a way that meant that they didn't exactly mix well with my rapidly increasing height. I had just gotten brand new jeans for Christmas, and I was already growing out of them. The uniform that I had to keep adjusting for my size kept getting smaller and smaller on me, and I was finding it easier and easier to hit my head on low doorways if I didn't pay attention for even a fraction of a second. At this point, I had resigned myself to wearing more stretchy clothes simply because they seemed to adjust for my spurts in growth much better than some of the other, stiffer types of fabric that one could run across.

After Yefim had stepped down from his Champion role and then quite suddenly seemingly vanished from the halls of Durmstrang, I had learned that Valentin was raised to the position of Champion. This alone was enough for me (as a humble waitlister newly promoted to the main team) to do anything in my power to assist my Captain in being as successful as he had the capacity to be in the position that he had recently been promoted to. Yet, in the month of February something most curious had happened to me on Valentin's Day. I had been surprised by two letters from Valentin within hours of each other, each of them with what seemed to be two different aspects of Valentin's personality but had both seemed real enough for me to at least acknowledge them superficially as being legitimate...

One of them had been an invitation to become his "Special Person" for the sake of the Hexwizard Tournament; an offer that while I had mulled over for the course of a few hours I had eventually accepted. This was for the sake of not only Durmstrang but for Valentin as well. After everything that had happened over Christmas Break alone, I felt a need to stay close to him, to keep himself safe and to continue being someone that he knew he could speak to openly and without fear of judgement. The past few years had turned my life on its head more than a few times; I could no longer afford to doubt much of what anyone told me anymore, particularly if the claims came from the ones that I loved most. Piérre, Valentin... These two in particular I had to keep close to me, to ensure their safety and to be there for them no matter the prices I had to pay: Piérre, my twin and my only known blood; Valentin, my closest friend and advocate, one of the few people who had stayed with me throughout my school years and that I had been able to salvage even a strand of a relationship with.

I owed it to Valentin to at least return his favor of standing by him. I would support him and bring honor to himself, myself, and Durmstrang.

Creaking and rattling woke me up fully as the sounds of the ship breaching caused me to groan to myself and then blindly snatch around until my fingers hooked into the hood of my red fabric and black wolf-fur Durmstrang cloak. Getting groggily to my feet, I threw the cloak on and wrapped myself in it tightly as I was without a shirt beneath it and then stumbled my way towards the hatch that would take me to the upper deck, staggering ever so slightly as I leaned on the other walls and doorways to ensure that I didn't lose my footing.

It was only recently April and it was still before the sun rose, so the chilling winds that came up from the lake tried their best to rip though my heavy cloak and shorts. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the crisp air and the foam that had been kicked up from the hull of the ship cutting through the water like a hot knife through butter. Ice shattered on all sides as sheets of hoarfrost were jostled from their former frozen states and made to shatter on the solid planks of Durmstrang's sturdily military-grade boat.

Opening my eyes again to observe the quickly livening deck, I noted the young and old students alike looking out over the edge of the boat from the fore, no doubt filling their senses with the approaching silhouette of the Scottish castle that seemed to be the source of so many rumors, misfortunes, political turmoil and derision, and general darkness. The latter of these traits I had discovered for myself firsthand, as a crescent moon scarification on my right forearm testified to. That was one of my newest marks of a violent encounter, given to me by a strange, evil creature that could not have been of the natural world; a creature that I had crushed and destroyed only after it had managed to take a chunk out of me, leaving me with yet another physical manifestation of a moment that I had been too slow to protect and defend. It was a reminder, a promise; I would not make the same mistakes as I had before. I could make errors and I would fall short, but I would not fall short in that way again. I had learned, I had grown.

So I stood back from the fore, underneath an overhang where I could be sheltered from the worst of the wind and be shielded from any ice that could potentially fall on me. Burying my nose in the cloak, I closed my eyes and creased my brow in thought. I had to be ready for whatever awaited us there. Already, I was steeling myself. Steeling myself in preparation for the worse that I knew was destined to come no matter how hard we tried to keep our heads down and our actions innocent.

Somehow, evil always came to us in one way or another. Never a matter of 'if' but 'when', wasn't it. All we could ask for was to be strong enough to face it head on and then survive the consequences of our taken actions thereafter.

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

For all the media’s ravenous attempts to pry out information about Yefim’s transition, Valentin never relented in guarding his insider knowledge about the former champion’s fate. As Durmstrang’s quidditch captain, Val was all too aware of the danger posed by knowledge’s power. His polite declining to comment was for Yefim’s protection, and Valentin took the increased media attention in stride along with the added risks and responsibilities it posed.

A seasoned performer who lived much of his life in the limelight, Valentin had learned to shine brighter under scrutiny and enjoyed the pressure it put on him. However demanding, Val’s years of first-string seeker fame and grooming from his renowned musician parents had prepared him well for not just maintaining composure, but thriving when representing Durmstrang as champion. The problem instead lay in knowing when to stop giving of himself to the team when his personal life was crumbling beneath his feet.

It had been almost four months since arson and theft at the Schnell Estate sucked Valentin into a deadly intrigue, but had the boy taken even a moment to come to terms with the attempt on his life? Despite the concern he showed for inadvertently dragging his friends into the danger and the risk of trauma festering within them, Valentin wasn’t in the habit of speaking about himself without being asked. It was far easier to shield himself with his growing external responsibilities, and so the strong public face he presented to the world on Durmstrang’s behalf overlaid a tumult burying its hazard deeper within.

Back when Valentin was actively dealing with the loss of his parents, the collapse of the quidditch team, and related issues, at least Yefim had been a stabilizing force to soften the worst of the blows. Now, Valentin stood alone in caring for their ring brother, Mikael, as the dark-haired boy’s mental deterioration worsened with Yefim’s absence. Still, pouring his energy into Hexiwizard preparations while maintaining high academic marks, ramping up quidditch training for the upcoming summer championship, and still making time to sit with Mikael gave Valentin ample distractions to hide within. After what he had done to two of his dearest friends last Christmas, even the “fearless Hell-Chaser” didn’t dare to ask his co-captain to help him work through the seeker's personal trauma. Valentin knew it was unhealthy, even dangerous, but how could he ask Romeo for anything after the shame of nearly killing them both in Germany?

The words of Valya’s father, Hugo, still rang in his mind even now. Emotions must never enter the equation. You are not a beast but a Man, Valentin. Think only of what you want, and how you plan to get it. For as self-controlled as the team needed their Frost Captain to be, however, Valentin had still inherited strong emotions and expressiveness from his mother, Zinoviya, who was rumored within elite circles to have been part veela. Even after everything, Valentin never shut off his feelings, preferring to find ways to channel them in private… even when the demands of Hexiwizard and Val’s other ambitions reduced time out of the public eye to an ever-diminishing minimum. To anyone who really knew him, that Valentin began practicing a new instrument was a clear coping mechanism. While the champion didn’t allow himself the privilege of asking for help, he could at least make the music cry on his behalf, even in a way that seemed to please those around him. Playing air piano just didn’t cut it anymore. Now, standing at the freshly-risen deck of Durmstrang’s ship with a black Turkish oud in hand, Valya made himself promise to use the power of his pain for positive ends.

Breathing in the Scottish lake air, Valentin watched over Amina as she leaned dangerously far over the ship railing. When she nearly toppled over he stepped forward as if to dash after her, but she recovered on her own and bent over, looking back from between her knees as her hair hung upside down. It wasn’t long until she stood up again and hopped back to her team mates with a wide grin at Valentin and Slava. Naturally, Val was happy for Amina to link arms or otherwise hook onto him. Receiving physical contact from his friends was one of the key ways he made it through any given day.

"Are you excited? Are you? I am! This will be great!” Amina’s words bubbled with the enthusiasm her bouncing in place couldn’t contain.

“But my dear Aminka, ‘excited’ is far too small a word for this.” Valentin chuckled as a light of joy flickered through his tired eyes. “We have all trained so hard, and now is our moment to grasp the fruits of our labor and make our grandest dreams come true.”

Amina elbowed Valentin, her eyes fixed on the shore with new seriousness. "You are a fine champion. We will continue our way of glory!”

Smiling back at the green-eyed knight pixie before turning to face the distant onlookers across the lake, Valentin ran his hand over Amina’s red hair and rested it on her shoulder. When Slava approached and put his hand on Val’s shoulder as well, the champion set down his Middle Eastern lute to try pulling him in closer and wrap his arm around the dramatically shorter boy. The double-meaning of Slava’s name had always brought Valentin cheer, especially when illuminated by his long-time friend’s cheerful but ambitious personality. The two of them brought such light into Valya’s life, it brought tears to the champion’s eyes to have them together in both teams.

“Make me proud.”

With the squeeze of both arms in a sideways hug, a muffled noise came from the back of Valya’s throat and he snatched up the oud to quickly turn away before he could start crying on them. Passing a glance at the other light-haired boy on the ship’s deck (Stormy), Valentin noticed he looked a bit lost in thought. Although he couldn’t imagine what the younger student was thinking, the champion couldn’t help wondering. A girl waved from the shore, and so Valentin tipped his head with respect as he passed and found a place to sit beneath an overhang, to the side of the door leading to the ship’s lower deck. Cradling the dark wooden instrument in his lap, Valentin tested the strings to ensure they were still in tune despite the change in atmosphere when arriving in a new land. After minor adjustments, Valentin fished out a long pick from his pants pocket and nestled into the white wolf fur lining the interior of his red Durmstrang cloak. A clump of hoarfrost fell from a nearby rail, but Valentin had chosen this spot specifically to protect his instrument from the elements, to provide a natural hollow for reverberation, and to still remain only meters away from his friends – well within earshot to allow anyone to listen. No sooner had Valentin placed his hands in position to play, however, than the co-captain of Durmstrang’s quidditch team emerged before him.

Valentin froze as his keen eyes trailed the edges of Romeo’s towering silhouette, wordlessly observing the Italian burying his nose in the black fur of his cloak. The seeker would not fail to notice the giant’s bare feet, shorts, and prominent abs peeking out from below crossed arms, which suggested that Romeo had only just rolled out of bed. Had he not slept well? Heat warmed Valentin’s blushing face as his own eyes batted sleepily to one side before inevitably flicking back to take in more details about the state of his co-captain. For all that Romeo had grown, the standard issue cots had not, and Valentin made a note to himself to see about making some magical modifications to the sleeping arrangements later. If not the champion, who else would look out for the finer needs of the team’s health and well-being?

Mithril and amethyst eyes fell to the pale crescent marking where a hag doll sank vicious teeth into the beater’s muscular forearm at the previous Hogwarts ball. So much for their tournament. It was all Valya could do to fight for Romeo’s life only minutes after the Italian completed his knighting ceremony. For as fleeting as the preceding tranquility was, the memory of Beater #4 amid the blackthorn roses still swam in the undercurrents of the seeker’s mind. He could almost feel the warmth of a cheek pressed to his lips, a moment lasting only seconds but which still haunted him months later. For that brief window of time, Valentin had finally expressed his truth, and as he recalled how easy it would have been to lose Romeo to tragedy in Germany thereafter, emotion began to swell in the frost captain once more.

Tipping his head to hide his falling tears beneath a curtain of snowy hair, Valentin began plucking pairs of strings into the shape of a taqsim melody. The new improvisation broke away from the stuck problem of completing a previous composition, instead flying freely without the need to ever be repeated again. This, too, was a moment in time, and with Romeo and his other dear friends so close, Valentin filled to bursting with gratitude that they were all still alive and together.

Mentioning/Interacting with: @Piérre Marchonné (Romeo), @Ruby Cazares (Slava), @Ileen Knight (Amina), @Thorn Cullen (Stormy), @Percival Rainwood (Mikael)

Open to interaction.

Song Inspiration

Mikael blinked slowly as he stared out towards the shore that slowly approached. The air was cool and slightly moist. The day was just anew and yet it already felt like the end. With every slow row towards the shore the more they pulled closer. Closer to something that tired. Like limestone cliffs that were slowly being broken down by the tiresome waves. His own mind had been so worn away he wondered if it would eventually break in half. How many more waves could he really take before it finally became too much?

Looking inwardly he would say not much. His god had left him and now all he had was one that spoke unhelpfully and without preference. When it had come to Yefim he had known his end goal. He had known what the other wanted, and what he expected from him. But now.... all that was left was a giant gaping hole. A deep pit at the very center of his being. A part of him was terrified something was going to claw its way out of him. Something dark and sinister. Mikael could almost picture it. A dirt-encrusted hand gripping the grass at the edge of the maw. Trying to pull itself out. Skin so odd, pale and lifeless.

Mikael glanced vaguely in the direction of Valentin. He felt so muted staring at the other boy. It was like looking into the sun, and god knew how much it hurt him. Standing where Yefim used to stand. It was as if Yefim had not existed at all, but Mikael knew. He was not so easily swayed as the other sheep about him. Yefim was in his mind. That much he had claimed. In every fiber of his being. Glancing back out towards the sloshing water, Mikael gripped the thick and old wood of the boat. Slouching over the side as he looked towards the splashing water. It felt crazy to think that Yefim was no longer here. Yefim had claimed that he would never leave him in spirit. And yet...

The boy's eyes narrowed as a chill settled into his bones. A cold splash of fear hit deeply into his chest as he dug his claws into the wood. Mikael looked back towards the castle that slowly loomed over him. He didn't feel anything anymore. Not that he ever really felt much, but now more than ever he felt this deep hollowness within him.

Mikael's blue eyes flicked back toward Valentin before glancing away. The boy was far off from the others, but by this point, it was almost customary. Mikael had never needed anyone, never wanted, anyone besides his beautiful darling Yefim. The boy had breathed life into him once. Something he could never repay. The boy swallowed thickly when he looked back down at the water. What had happened that day never truly left him. The tight choking hold it had on him held no bounds. The boy pulled at his black turtleneck, trying to situate it better about him. Now more than ever it felt as if he was slowly being choked by it. A noose that would forever tighten upon him. As he glanced down at the water he felt his eyes ever so slightly widen. A grimace collected the lines upon his face. 'Please do not take me again. I beg of you.' Such a childish wish and yet he wished it all the same. The boy would once more look ahead. Look towards doom and existence. To look at it all.

Mentions: @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood, [mentions everyone generally]