24 Aug 2023, 02:02
Quarterless
¤ | Ω | ¤
"Italiano. Italian."
"Russian."
\ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm /
| Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |Team Sárkány'Mi aspetto la perfezione e niente di meno. Ne abbiamo gia ' parlato. I expect perfection and nothing less. We have been over this before.' Irritated, outwardly frustrated and seemingly without any kind of temper to the words as they were spat out. 'Ormai sarebbe stato ovvio, pensai. Forse mi aspetto troppo. It would have been obvious by now, I thought. Perhaps I'm just expecting too much.' A downward muse. Disappointment rich in tones. 'Non avrei dovuto aspettarmi di più da un gruppo di... hm? I should have not expected more from a group of... hm?'
There was a pause, a seeming full-stop to the dialogue. A moment of amusement, perhaps? A second to appraise the situation? There was a short chuckle. 'Aha. Naturalmente, naturalmente. Non come se tu potessi capirmi. Naturally, of course. Not as if you can understand me.' The voice slipped into comfortable tones, gaining an edge of a lift; honey sweet and calm as it spoke. Quick and fast with practiced tongue, the words were swift and lilting; natural and elegant in the same turn. 'Quindi non ti dispiacera 'quando ti chiamero' idiota in faccia e poi usciro ' con calma, eh? So you won't mind when I call you an idiot to your face and then calmly make my exit, hm?' Another small chuckle, as if to reassure through the harsh words. 'Sono troppo occupato per occuparmene adesso. Questo non vale la pena il mio tempo. I'm too busy to be dealing with this right now. This is not worth my time.' The voice whittled off, distracted and waffling.
Aware of the situation, aware most certainly of the dialogue unfolding before me, I felt my hand extend outwards as if it were moving through thick oil. 'Ehi tu! Che ne dici se me lo dici in faccia con il tono con cui intendi dirlo? Hey you! How about you say it to my face in the tone you mean to say it in?' I demanded of it, as the ringing heightened a bit more in both my ears.
The invisible aura just before me stopped shock still. I could almost sense the way that it pivoted ever so slightly. A glint glimmered ahead and slightly below. 'Oh?' It said softly, an air of intrigue rising ever so slightly. 'Me lo chiedevo. I wondered.' A small chuff of breath. 'Non può essere locale, certamente. Non ti ho mai vista... e ho visto molte persone ai miei tempi. Can't be local, certainly. I've never seen you... and I've seen a good many people in my time.' A small drawing closer, a closing in. The glimmer wavered and dipped, as if tipping. 'Cosa ti porta così a nord, italiano? Come ti chiami? What brings you so far north, Italian? What is your name?' Came the quiet, almost interrogatively tight words. Still cool, calm, honeyed...
There was a pause from me before I spoke with conviction; 'Potrei chiederti la stessa cosa. Come vi chiamate? I could ask you the same thing. What is your name?'
'Hm. Beh, l'ho chiesto prima a te... ma suppongo che il cliente abbia sempre ragione alla fine, non è vero. Well, I did ask you first... but I suppose the customer is always right in the end, aren't they.' Another seeming leer as the cyan gleam righted itself again and tilted back as if drawing itself up and into a formal poise. 'Ottimamente. Posso vedere che stai aspettando con il fiato sospeso, anche se sono incuriosito sul perché considerando che il mio nome è intonacato un po ' ovunque da queste parti ormai. Very well. I can see you are waiting with baited breath, though I'm intrigued as to why considering my name is plastered just about everywhere around here by now.'
There was a sudden flash of sight, just long enough to reveal the flicker that had been tracking and curiously observing in its entirety. A human face, at least that was what made the most sense. One eye, that gleam, the other darkened; either because of raw shadow or the shading curl of the broad-brimmed hat that it bore was difficult to distinguish. Lips were curled ever so slightly into a conniving half-smile that bore perfect white teeth, that eye peering directly into my own. The lips moved as the eye narrowed, the lilt carried upon them reaching my ears without error.
That face... somehow I knew that face...
'Anche se sospetto che tu sappia gia ' il mio nome. Che c'e', ragazzo? Though I suspect you already know my name. What is it, boy?'...Mind swimming as I felt my head rolling to my shoulder for a moment, I was awake in an instant as pain split through my neck at the same time. Blinking a few times and then widening my eyes to force myself to see clearly again, I sniffed once and then tried to figure out where I was. I remembered falling, the sound of bones and the cheer of a crowd... I had knocked three people from Team Hufflepuff off of their brooms, and then I had been knocked down by one of their beaters in turn. It was fuzzy from there... I remembered falling. I remembered seeing Valentin starting his penalty lap and everyone else coming back with a vengeance... Valentin needed to fly fast, he needed to fly very very fast.
And I? I needed to... I didn't just fall for no reason, right? My bat. Where was my bat? I had heard a snapping sound after hitting one of the bludgers, I remembered seeing a splintered end... Had I broken my bat?
I was laying in a hospital cot with fresh linen sheets, the large Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. I must have been moved here after being initially checked out by the medics at the Quiddich Pitch? I must have... I must have been hurt way more than I was supposed to be, then. But... I felt alright other than a crick in my neck. My left arm was itching like Hell...
"...Oh." I murmured as I beheld the mess of cast and sling that was wrapped tightly about my left forearm. The more I looked at it, the more I psychosomatically began to feel a throbbing pain there. I didn't have to dream up many ways in which I could have screwed up my arm from the fall; besides that I had seen several Muggle children sporting these bad boys before. I supposed it was rather safe to assume that I had broken my forearm. What I really wanted to know was how badly? Had I fractured both radius and ulna? Had there been splintering? Was it a clean break?
How long was I going to be laid up for here?
Was the game over?
I looked out the far window, hoping perhaps that against the grey skies there would be brooms and people continuing to soar--something that I could watch or at least cheer for while impatiently waiting in this state--but all I saw were the grey skies the were beginning to let flickers of light shine through as the sun began to set. No cheers that I could hear other than the chatter that I heard generally around the vicinity. Other beds were filled too, either from temporary sickness or perhaps other players from the previous Quidditch games that had happened before Durmstrang's own. It wasn't exactly pleasant company... but it was company, I supposed.
Had anyone else on our team fallen? I knew that I had been the first, but how many others had fallen as well after I had? Were there people that I could help out once I finally got back on my feet again? I was nothing if not impatient; I had to get up, I had to get moving. I didn't have time to simply lay here and get patched up over the course of a week or three. I simply didn't have time to waste with something like that. I had to find the team, figure out what happened; ask them how the game went and if everyone was alright...
I ran these thoughts through my mind as I mulled over the things that were slowly assorting and reorganizing themselves. And that strange flash, something like a face; that conversation and voice... That... hadn't been a memory or an experience that I had had, was it? I wasn't a seer or anything (if anything my abilities in Divination were quite atrocious...), that would have been something that I would have thought would have made itself known at a much earlier age than I currently was. It had been strange... that was it; just a weird dream. My body had probably been traumatized from hitting the ground so hard, so my brain ran away with something and expanded something into an entire story that somehow reflected the state of mind that I had been in.
I hissed again as I tried to move my left arm, forgetting that it was restrained for a reason and then grumpily trying to relax again as I leaned back and closed my eyes. Well... may as well make the best of it. What a stupid way to end the summer...
There was a small sound, that of a door opening; my eyes flicked to it in anticipation. There came a little bit of hushed conversation, and I quickly lost interest. What was the point in listening in on a conversation if I couldn't even hear what was being said? There really was simply nothing to be done when you were wiped out like this, was there.
Simply to wait and to let things happen around. Exciiiiiiiiiting...ReducioStats:
Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 17 Ω
Ω Accuracy 18 | Wisdom 10 | ArcPower 0 ΩAbilities:
Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω
Ω Muggle Condition Ω
24 Aug 2023, 02:51
Quarterless
Valentin entered the all-too-familiar hospital wing and spotted Romeo immediately from the characteristic titian patina of his hair. Then again, a boy that large was hard to overlook already.
“Romushka… We didn’t lose.” Val’s face was set grim as if he was on a mission. “I’m so proud of you. I’ve never seen such an incredible bludger in my life, not even at pro games. Phenomenal.”
As the captain sat down alongside his co-captain's hospital bed, the Italian would notice Val carrying a bundled-up red sheet with something inside it. The Silver Arrow strapped loyally to his back was already forgotten as if it were simply another part of his body, but it would receive its maintenance once the more important tasks were finished.
“How do you feel? I don’t…. I’m just… Look, I’m glad you’re alive. I was stupidly afraid you would die this time and I don’t understand what’s with me. We’ve done this a million times, but… the way you looked at me before… I’m worried about you. I’m worried, but I’m right here.”
As Val pulled down the corners of the cloth wrap, Romeo saw that it was in fact a large Durmstrang banner that had been used as a makeshift sling for collecting the many shattered pieces of #4’s old maple bat.
“You know I’m sentimental about things. I figured you’d want this back anyway. I know how you are about your scars, so I thought I’d ask before fixing it. That was a pretty important shot you made. Shall I repair it here as I keep you company, or do you want it to stay just like this?” Sighing as he placed his slender seeking hand over the top of the wooden splinters, Valentin grinned shyly. “I didn’t even have to pay the fan who got the biggest chunk of it. He just said…” Blushing and looking away awkwardly, Valentin mumbled something under his breath before speaking up again. “I could give that back to you and that would be payment enough. I think you have a fan. Well, I know you have many, but this one actually cares.”
Stretching his neck to either side, Valentin tried to sit up and straighten his back. He’d had quite a bit of hard flying today.
Basic Stats: STA 8 - EVA 20 - STR 3 - WIS 17 - ARC 1 - ACC 15
Stats on Broom: STA 11 - EVA 23 - STR 6 - WIS 20 - ARC 4 - ACC 18
Abilities:
Keen Eye / Charmer / Evasive Maneuvers / Fearless / Comprehend Languages: Parseltongue
All dialogue in Russian unless specified otherwise.
Broom: Silver Arrow (+3 to each stat)
Ency/Trunk: viewtopic.php?f=314&t=17006#p269554
Godmods of Romeo’s and Valentin’s characters are consensual throughout this and other threads
15 Sep 2023, 18:29
Quarterless
¤ | Ω | ¤
"Italiano. Italian."
"Russian."
\ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm /
| Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |Team Sárkány, Valentin Schnell
@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama EllwoodValentin's voice through the air shook me back to attention, and I followed him as he sat down alongside the cot. My brows furrowed as I considered the opening words that accompanied his look of almost-ferocity; determination that I would have thought would have been better fit for a preparation for battle as opposed to a simple delivery of a message. "That's... good, isn't it? That means we won, right?" I queried softly, my eyes narrowing ever so slightly with turning thoughts in mind. "Proud...? Did I?" To be honest, I didn't remember much after being hit. "I-I don't remember much before, um, introducing myself violently to the ground."
Despite myself, I found myself glancing from time to time at the red wrapping that Valentin held before returning my gaze to him. "Uhm I... yeah, I'm doing okay. Stiff in the neck a bit, headache... I'm-I'm guessing a concussion or something." I tried to shift before a reminding twang in my left arm advised me to stop or to suffer otherwise. "... and that." I glared sullenly at the cast, already psychosomatically itching and tingling with the sensation of what would (eventually) be the painful regrowth and resetting of bone. "For once I don't think I want to heal this on my own." I needed my hands, my arms. I couldn't risk having them damaged, not at this age. Magic would help. I would be as good as new if I was taken care of properly.
But my gaze softened away from anger at myself as Valentin expressed such deep concern. Despite myself I felt sheepish as he called me out on my actions; uncharacteristic as it was for me to freeze up and then to lash out, and then to fall so violently... I couldn't look at him for a few moments while trying to figure out how to explain myself. A quietness that alluded more to my younger years, a time in which I would 'shut down' when trying to figure out what to say next, but I had to try to say something. "I'm glad you're here and that you're okay. I'm just angry that I didn't get hit while trying to protect you like I always keep saying I will." It had been a stupid way to get knocked down, to...
My mind was too foggy and swirled with discorporate segments of the game before the world went dark for me to recall what the series of events had been leading up to that moment. I remember so much anger, though. Fear. The thrill of mingled action and terror and the heightening anxieties that accompanied those feelings; the action of freezing up. "Something just... rubbed me wrong." Yes, surely that was what had happened. "Maybe I was overthinking, I just... I was thinking too much and then I..."
I closed my eyes for a few seconds, seeing a splash of familiar red flash unwanted in my mind's eye before I ignored it and tried to stop meandering. "I got distracted."
Valentin unfolded the wrapping in his arms, and I watched as the splinters of a Beater's bat... no...
That was my bat. The splinters of my bat were revealed and rolled around each other in their little hammock of a Durmstrang banner. Uncertain, I took one generous chunk in my right hand, rolling it in my palm as I considered it, almost as if I could transmute it if I fixed it with a hard enough stare and when reduced to silence. Blinking at it a few times, I sighed to myself as I rubbed my thumb on the smoother parts of it, digging my thumbnail into a large crack before replacing it with its fellows. I pursed my lips in conflicting feeling as Valentin spoke about it, and how he had gotten it back.
My eyes flicked back to him again, watching with only slight amusement as a small blush flashed across his face. I didn't have to struggle to put two and two together. The rumors had been alive for much longer than this last year. I nodded along with him carefully. "Fans..." I didn't really know what else to say about them. Yes, I knew that being a Durmstrang player and a Hexwizard participant had placed me into the lenses of intrigue in at least the more niche environments of the media. I wasn't really sure what to make of the popularity, however, or the smears or rumors that most certainly would be partner to the spotlight of public intrigue. "I'm not sure how to feel about... about them." It was more natural to shrink away, to stay away from something that could bite back; it was almost like a reflexive instinct to do so, something that likely hearkened back to survival instinct of some kind.
But concerning the bat itself... "I think he's had his time come and go." I said simply as I considered the pieces that it was in. "Reparo won't mend it at this point anymore; the breaks and the fibers are too fine. Too much is lost, even if we pieced it back together." It was a sad acceptance, almost like a baseball player being forced to say farewell to a bat of theirs that had been broken upon the one fastball that had been too much for it. "It'll be too brittle, would keep breaking with even less and less force, especially if I kept punishing it with hits like the ones I delivered." I was starting to slowly remember the feeling in both my arms as the blow vibrated me down to my very bones and the way that the Bludger hurtled off to gleefully break the bones of the ones I aimed at.
"Why don't you keep it if you're sentimental that way?" I remembered the golden snitch that was currently flittering in the mason jar upon the desk, next to my bed, in the cabin we were staying in. Valentin kept giving so much, and I was such a bad gift-giver... if this was something that he wanted, then... Maybe I could start paying him back somehow. "Honestly I think the fan would find it more valuable than I... it's not even any good for woodcarving anymore." I tried to crack a joke, trying to mirror Valentin's small grin with one of my own.
As Valentin stretched, I shifted too, glancing towards where he must have come from. "Is the rest of the team alright? Was I the only one?" I had to ask of him now, now that I had been too laid-up to take care of them for myself. "I swear if Arjan, Alaric or Nichlas gave you any problems after I went down..." The three horsemen, with Johannes being a close fourth if the moment just so happened to strike him... "But you handily kept them in check, right Frost Captain?" I joked again, feeling my eyes smile with a small amusement as I externally smiled as well.
Maybe I just didn't want to be alone, or maybe it was just because for the time being it was the two of us. I wasn't the captain right now, I didn't have to be. Right now I could afford to jest and to tease even with my current condition in mind, trying to alleviate some of the tension in the air and to break down my 'self-important' image that I (probably) carried with me when in 'captain mode'.ReducioStats:
Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 17 Ω
Ω Accuracy 18 | Wisdom 10 | ArcPower 0 ΩAbilities:
Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω
Ω Muggle Condition Ω
16 Sep 2023, 04:54
Quarterless
"That's... good, isn't it? That means we won, right?" asked Romeo, eyes narrowing.
“Well… you wiped out your targets, Roxette and Avery, but Avery hit you back as she was falling. Your hit on Roxette was the finest bludger I’d ever seen, and you really decimated most of the opponent team – so much in fact… well, it seems the referee decided to change the core rules of quidditch right before the game ended. I’m sure you know well, even after such a harsh concussion, that the only things that can end a quidditch match are catching the snitch, having no seekers remaining to catch the snitch, or a mutual captain decision to call it off. Once our victory seemed inevitable, the ref decided it was a great time to end the match as a tie. As you can imagine, there was great upheaval over this… so, well, because the official Hufflepuff players were finished off, including their captain, I chose another Hufflepuff from the audience…” Valentin’s eyes flicked to the door as a peculiar expression overtook him which Romeo had never seen before. It was as if Valentin were waiting for something that had already happened. “You’ve heard me speak of him before – Alexander. He kindly agreed to help stop a riot from breaking out, and we flew out together to go catch the snitch at precisely the same time. I hope people will see it as a message that this should not be a call to arms. I don’t know how things will be for us later, but… that was the only way I could think of to end the game and still try to keep a war from breaking out, pride be damned. We’ll see how the professional leagues will take all this, since this was simply one strange little inter-school match incident… Will this simply go down in history as a time when some referee decided to axe the age-old rules when they became inconvenient? I just don’t know. I never thought the referee would turn out so biased.”
The conversation progressed to Romeo explaining what had happened during the match when he seemed to be losing it. Valentin listened without a word, not wanting to interrupt and miss even a single important detail. Then, #4 concluded -- "I got distracted."
“Yeah, distracted…” smiled Valentin with a roll of his eyes. Romeo knew Val understood him well enough to recognize the deeper context of what was cracking him down the middle. “When you get out of here, let’s take the whole team out for a celebratory drink… maybe not at Hogsmeade, though, but in London before we all part ways at the station.” Binding the shards of #4’s bat back into the Durmstrang flag, Valentin would later have Sergei make a fine display out of them for the quidditch museum at the Schnell Estate. Even if Romeo was shy about having fans, Valentin knew such historical artifacts were important to aficionados, let alone himself – the game was bigger than them as players, after all. They had a fraction of Durmstrang’s history to represent.
“Just do me a favor, Romeo… and let me get your next one, okay?” Of course it would cost a fortune and take a considerable amount of time to source. Romeo knew it just as well as Valentin. This was just how the captain operated. If he permitted it, Romeo’s next bat would be state of the art in every possible way and catered to #4's peculiarities down to the finest detail. Valentin understood that the his co-captain’s words about making the remains of the previous bat into a carving were a joke, but somehow they failed to so much as bring a smile to the niffler’s usually jubilant face.
“Yeah, it was just you that went down. Well, you and the entire Hufflepuff team.” Val gestured towards the hospital area packed with broken badgers. “As for Arjan, Alaric, Nichlas… they were fine. We have a solid team. They give us the diversity we need. If everyone were built like you and me, well, we’d not only be predictable but easy to crack. Don’t worry about it. At least, you can relax for a while now. You earned a solid rest after the incredible work you did out there.”
26 Nov 2023, 03:15
Quarterless
¤ | Ω | ¤
"Italiano. Italian."
"Russian."
\ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm /
| Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |Valentin Schnell
@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood"Change... the rules?" My eyes narrowed ever so slightly as I tried to comprehend what Valentin meant by such a thing. As Valentin retold the story of the moments leading up to my fall, they did return in awful colors of battle and the fog of the fray: yes, I did remember, I remembered the bludger hitting me just as I had thrown away my bat... the same one that Valentin held completely shattered in the banner. And then what had happened afterwards... "A tie?! Wh- but that's ridiculous!" I shifted a bit and then regretted it, angrily flopping back on the pillows with a brand new fire in my eyes and a twisting of rage in my chest. "If we knocked everyone down, we should have had the win dead to rights! The game doesn't end until the Snitch gets caught! And you caught it, right? And Lys, Greta, Jojo, and Mad were all scoring in tandem, right?!"
A great upheaval. "Yeah I'm sure there was upheaval! For a good reason, too!" I sulked to myself, trying to recreate the moment in my mind as I was sure that not only Sárkány would have violently clashed with the refs, but the fans and the headmasters would have clashed with one another as well. "Home turf bias bullshit..." I spat to myself. "Should have taken them up north closer to Durmstrang; would've taught them exactly what a top team is capable of practicing, playing, and winning through..."
But the mention of Alexander made a cold chill drip through me for a moment, particularly when it was attached with the memory of a horrific accident that had come with the revelation of the name hardly a week before the game itself... Valentin... It was enough to freeze the former blusteriness that I was allowing to escape from me in this moment. "That was a good... compromise." I finally allowed myself to choke out and reject the team pride I had had for Sárkány alone. "Pride be damned..." I echoed, though perhaps I found myself not fully convinced. "Dammit. I want to prove that Durmstrang isn't going to let itself be second to anyone ever again, and this is the sort of inane nonsense that we have to deal with in the process." I grit my teeth and wound part of the hospital sheet in my good hand, tightening it and loosening it, though it was absent of any indication of anger that one would have likely expected with the action. "Kindly..."
My mind still swirled with indecisiveness on how to breach any topic presented before me whatsoever. Did I try to bring up the day that Valentin had had that violent concussion? Did I try to continue the dialogue on the game itself, or the things that had happened during it? Did I continue to stew on the fact that of all things our game had ended in a nonsensical tie? There was so much that was just... it was just so, so inane. So inane... 'Mi aspetto la perfezione e niente di meno. Ne abbiamo gia ' parlato. I expect perfection and nothing less. We have been over this before'
And then there had been that weird dream.
Over and over and over again... "Celebratory drink in London... ha yes... Hogsmeade... plotting twin brothers..." I collected some disjointed thoughts in an attempt to continue a dialogue. "The rest of the summer before us... fun. Buy my next one?" My gaze finally flicked back to Valentin as the weariness that I was so familiar with by now began to settle over me again. "Oh. My bat. Right. Y-you don't have to do that, I..." What was the argument that was supposed to go with this sentence again? 'God, you are such a terrible person, Romeo.'
'What a terrible, terrible person you are... taking advantage of him like this.'
"Aaach... but I get the feeling I won't be able to convince you otherwise, will I?" I said defeatedly. "I rarely ever can." Not for the sake of safety nor for the sake of rationality nor for the sake of personal desire. I closed my eyes. 'Even when you know full well what he wants the most. You selfish bastard.' My brows creased. 'When you know full well it only takes one word.'
"At least the rest of the team is feeling up to snuff. Of course they are, what am I saying? Of course they're just fine. Good that they didn't give you trouble, though. Don't hesitate to tell me if they do. You know I'll take care of it." I trailed off, bordering on prattling as I tested my shoulder and then found myself frustrated as once more my body told me to stop messing with the injury. I couldn't help it; I wanted to get out of here. I had to get out of here, I didn't have time to sit around. "Yeah... relaxing." I couldn't help but grouch ever so slightly at the thought. "If I had done better maybe there wouldn't have been the matter of that silly tie. I hate getting laid up like this. I should be able to handle knocks like this better... Surely I've been through worse than just getting hit by a cast iron ball hurtling after me at a million meters a second." I always expected better of myself. I was always trying to expect better of myself even when it was irrational of me to do so.
And with Valentin here... I didn't know if it made those feelings more sweet or more bitter to the taste. He too was distracted. We both were. That look in his eye... He was pining for something else other than being here too; there was something else calling him that I could possibly never know. Though, I did have my suspicions.
Screw this. "Where's my wand." I stated. "I'm not sticking around here. I need a walk. Screw my arm, it's bandaged and I have sling; I'll be fine." Grumble after grumble came from me as I tried to begin maneuvering myself and ignored all the damaged parts of myself that kept telling me to stop and reconsider what I was doing before I regretted these actions of mine. I had woken up in pain and being in pain like this made me cranky. This was nothing new. I had to do something with myself before I truly became unsavory to visit or interface with. Something. Anything. "Gotta do something with myself..."ReducioStats:
Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 17 Ω
Ω Accuracy 18 | Wisdom 10 | ArcPower 0 ΩAbilities:
Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω
Ω Muggle Condition Ω
12 Dec 2023, 06:25
Quarterless
Valentin watched as a chill passed through Romeo at the mention of Alexander. It was strange – the captain got the feeling he was forgetting something. Hadn’t things always been this way? Why should Romeo act like this? Scratching the back of his head, the feeling only intensified that a piece of reality was missing. What could he possibly say about such a queer feeling, however? Returning to the topic of the game, Valentin listened to Romeo’s response and watched the telltale flickers of his inner workings ripple over the Italian's face and burly hands, clenching the hospital sheet in a hypnotic rhythm. The motion sent a tingle down Val’s spine, and a certain dissonance whirred low in his subconscious like a fan with bad bearings. It was so weird how the game went, with the rules being thrown out. It was like the world was inverted and Valentin had to make up new ones in order to try to make it all sensible again.
“Plotting twin brothers…? Am I missing a joke or something? … But sure, I’ll buy your next one, and the one after that… and…” Rubbing the side of his temple, Valentin felt a pain in his head. It must have been the game, which was, had been, surely very draining. Edging towards the side of Romeo’s cot, Valentin sat in an empty spot and looked up at a bright candelabra. It would have been nice to have a bed of his own right about now, just here, wouldn’t it?
"Aaach... but I get the feeling I won't be able to convince you otherwise, will I?" cut Romeo’s voice through the fog creeping through Val’s head. "I rarely ever can."
“But, what is it that you want, again…? Sorry, I…” Squinting and rubbing his brow at the nose, just like Romeo always did at... moments... Valentin felt something fall away. “Surely I want to give you whatever you want, especially more training, right?” The joke came out warped with an upward crack in the seeker’s voice. “You always try to be so perfect, Romeo, it’s only fair that I give you my best right back. I don’t know what more I could have done for the team, though, nor you. I don’t know what more I can do for you. Would you tell me, Romeo? Wouldn’t you tell me what quiet things you want but no one bothers to ask you about?”
̸͕̜̩̔̆̅̾.á̶̼̖n̷̩͎͔̅͑̑͜d̵͈́ ̸̯̱͝͝y̶̧̹͍̿͛́e̶̮͆̂̽͘t̴̨̰̂̆ ̵̱̑͂ẙ̷̬̘̬̈͗o̷̤͋͊u̶̺̤͉̓̔̓ ̷̛̠̜̩̜̾͘s̶̝͉̺̤̄͐̎ẗ̸̜̙́̆͘̕ǐ̶̩̭͍̑̑͘l̸̠̰̭̑͝͝l̴̻͝ͅ ̷̪͍͎͈̃̽̌̕h̵̛̼͐ͅo̴͓̍̂͘͝ļ̷̝͖̾d̵̟̹̯͍̑̐͐̉ ̵̢̝̿͌̈͋n̶̼̫̒͒̑̈́ö̵̮̈́͐̏ ̸͈̤̼̿̾̉͐ṳ̷̝͛̂̕ń̸̛̥͠d̴̗̞̗̼͑̽ẻ̵̯r̶̨̖̓̒̇̕s̴̘̘̭͍̏t̷̛̳͌̃͝ä̵̡̧̗̻́͌n̶̰̥̘̭̈d̷͕̻͙̔̄͆̅ì̸̻̥̻̃͝n̴͈̥̖̈́̕g̸̣̠̟͒͊͜͠ ̷̧̪̼͓͒͊o̵̻̅́̍̓f̷̙̼̈̑̚ ̶̭̜̞̑̓͗ͅy̶̮̺̦̹̏́͂ó̵̹̜͍̋û̸̪͔̝r̶̹̬̣̀ ̵̭̌̚͝p̸̛̛͇̪̓͐ư̵͕͕͒͐͜ȑ̸̡̦͚͖̈́p̶̡͙̗̥̌̇̄̚ọ̶̱̲̋s̵͈̳̞͎̈́͂̑̆ȩ̷̩͋͗͒.̸͚͗̒̈̇ ̴̦̅̾̎͝Ḭ̷͑̃́f̴̰͉̦͍̏͠ ̸̟͌̕I̶̥̙͔̅͐̈̉ ̴̡̯̭̭̐̚w̵̥̠̏e̵̪͉̒͗̆r̶͎̫̻̈́ë̸̗̼̍ ̸̛͈̺͔̄̀t̴̲̫̉̍o̶̡̠͐̈̊͝ ̵͎͇͈̂̊͒ţ̵̲͈̲̂͋̅̚e̷̙̹̥̍l̴̠͉̙̔͌̂͛ḽ̸͋̊̕ ̶̮̎̉̏̈y̷͔̥̌̍̉ỡ̴̝͠u̴̲̳͒͛ ̸̭̱̘̋͒͛w̸͔͒o̵̢̰̥̻͆͗͝ú̶͍̣̈̽̂l̴̡̮͆̓͂̚d̴̨͍͗̾͑ ̷͉̼̩̟̍̈́y̸̡̺̭͋̈́̔ò̷͈̫͙͝ǔ̵̹͖̈́ ̷̛̆̈́ͅb̶̡̙̝͖̉ẹ̸̖̣̖̾l̴͍̦̠̀̄̀i̶͚̜͆̋̓̀ē̵͓̼͓̪̔̾ṽ̶͍̥̦ȅ̷͎͕͕ ̸̢̜͆̓̄̏m̴̡͉̤̈́̽͋̀e̸̲͉̓̀͝͝?̶̧̜̭̣̈̇́͠ ̷̪̽
???
Ẃ̶̨̭͖h̶̫̯͐a̷̠̎t̴̙͎̩̽ ̵̄͆̚͘͜w̶̥̝̒̈́o̸̩̰̦͙̊̉̕u̶̘̬͊͛̂̓l̸͙͋͋d̷̛̦̙̫̼͐̂͐ ̷̠̞́̚͝y̸̤̽̎͛̚o̶̽͜ṳ̵̤̈́̄̑ ̶̡͊̾d̴͖̈́͜ờ̴̢̧̱ ?̷̥̎͌̄͜.
??????
Valentin grasped himself by each elbow and looked back at Romeo’s cerulean eyes as a pang of panic jabbed into his gut.
"…Surely I've been through worse than just getting hit by a cast iron ball hurtling after me at a million meters a second…"
Yes, surely. Valentin got the sense that of course Romeo had been through worse than a bludger, but somehow, only a bludger came to mind… whizzing fast and striking with a crunch, again, and again, and again, and again. Wasn’t that the life of a quidditch player, getting up every morning and being mashed with the same steel ball over and over? Jack il...? Il... Il... The image repeated in Valentin’s head, but suddenly Romeo was trying to get up and leave. The captain wasn’t sure why. Was someone in trouble? Shouldn’t … shouldn’t Romeo be healing; didn’t he just get here, or was that last time? When was last time? Hadn’t they always been here?
"Gotta do something with myself..."
.
“…Wh- whoa, okay, let’s go. I don’t know where we’re going, but we’re off!”
Valentin offered his arm with a gentlemanly grace to help the brutally damaged and definitely not release-worthy Romeo to his feet. Something was absolutely funny. Maybe even hilarious. Wasn’t there something about this? Hadn't it always been like this?