Closed Lessons of a Brute PV Ric

Alaric grimaced and leaned against the wall to catch his breath, Sav really had done a deal on him yesterday evening. The German boy clenched his jaw at remembering what happened, anger filling his little body. How dare he. He is Alaric Leopold Havertz and that douchebag thinks he has the right to touch him in such offensive manner? Alaric started walking again, wishing like mad he had gone to the hospital wing but, at the time, he couldn’t stomach it, retreating to his room like a wounded dog ready to lick his wounds, walking into everyone that dared not move— (Yes, it hurt Alaric more than him this time). The boy also avoided breakfast this morning, once again retreating to his from so he could relax after the morning activities. He knew he should go to the nurse but he didn’t want to accept what happened.

"Move,” he almost growled harshly as a first year stood nattering to their friend in the corridors. With a little squeak (there was no squeak but the look on their face looked like they would squeak) the younger child shimmied to the right and let Alaric by.

On his way down the corridor, someone found him. Someone that Alaric didn’t really want to run into. Especially when he looked how he did. The boy sighed to himself as the older lad finished his sentence. "Привет Форсберг," he greeted, Russian accent close to perfect. "Got no one to talk to as usual?" he replied, evading the question. Forsberg wrapped his arm over Alaric’s shoulder the younger boy held back the urge to push him off, more out of pain than for his own comfort. The weight of the older Durmstrang pushing down and hurting his ribs.

He really did need to go see the nurse. He could feel the bruise on his face and the discomfort of his ribs with every step. Yet, the most painful thing was the memory of the event. Not the consequences of his lip at camp. The way Slava had made it seem like child’s play to kick his ass and humiliate him despite the bravo act he had shown in front of him. "The very obvious reminder that you are still breathing," Lar replied dryly, sending a half hearted glare. He remembered what happened. He remembered what he did. He was in the know what would happen should Alaric use his wand and yet he still allowed him to grasp the handle and cast the spell. He had thought that Nicholas was trying to push him to be best, that he was on his side, but it just strengthened his belief that no one but yourself will have your back. That in the real world and out of the silly fantasies delusional people live and breathe by, nobody will understand your cause, your way of life.

That no one respects you… that is why self respect is important. That is why you need to believe in yourself. Why you need to understand yourself. Alaric has never understood himself. Never understood why he can’t seem to stay still, why he gets sidetracked often. Never got why he was so forgetful all the time and being so disorganised. He is always talking and can’t wait his turn. Acts without thinking.

And he wants to… he does… but no one understands. He is just problematic. Stupid. Childish.

He is just “the other brother”

Das schwarzes Schaf of the familie.

"If you have anymore ques—”

“Heard from Slava recently?”

Alaric spun out of his “hold” quicker than he should have really, a grimace skipping past his weak mask. "What has that kotzbrocken got to do with anything?" he asked sharply, jaw clenched and firsts ready to start flying. "What have you heard? Tell me before I make your face the same colour as my cheek," it quite was obvious that the fellow Quidditch player could see the bruise.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

"You must think yourself so special, if you believe I'd bother a second with you if I had not important things to talk about," he gave a respond to the younger student, flashing a passing student a sharkish smile that made them hurry along rather than eavesdrop to the conversation he was willing to grace the yapping dog with. Sensing the discomfort of the boy as soon as he made contact he pulled him a little closer and thus applying a fraction more pressure to what he assumed must be a torso littered with bruises. A small payback for the snark he found quite fitting.

The next attempted jab at Nichlas' almost made the Swede smirk with gleeful smugness, this kid was making this just too easy for him! Could anyone truly blame him for laying trap after trap if the prey was so willing to step into every single one of them? It was like blaming the shark for a fish that swam right into its jaw. "Why yes, I guess I do see some green coloration on your bruises and I do inspire envy, but how flattering of you to admit to it," he almost admitted in a humble tone, yet it was clear that this was but another trap, luring Alaric to fall deeper and deeper into this mess and thus onto a side of Nichlas' that was quite unpleasant to experience. Provoking action simply to respond with an 'appropriate' reaction, well appropriate in the Swede's eyes in any sense. He doubted the German was in any shape to truly start an argument with the older boy though and if Nichlas' had any care for him in this moment perhaps he would have responded with some pity. However his recent frustrations with a certain Russian did not really inspire mercy or kindness in him.

"Well with how defensive you seem to react, I feel he has much to do with the state you currently find yourself in. What has made him pick on you? Did you run your mouth again or what warranted such brutishness," Nichlas inquired, watching the reactions of the other now like a hawk, after he had allowed him to slip from his grasp. Clearly he had struck a sore topic. "You see in front of the school he acts like such a sunshine, truly, but I feel like you can disprove that, can you not? Has he shown you injustice or do you reckon you deserved such treatment," Nichlas asked innocently as he weighed the options. Either he was right about the Russian boy and he was but a simple brute who picked physical fights with others or he was wrong in his assessment of the boy and he knew just what would be more likely. Then again of course he would never admit to being on the receiving end of Slava's brutishness, not with the reputation he had to uphold. And of course, he would not allow Slava to get the better of him again. He simply had not expected the Russian to be that brutish and reckless to attack him of all people! Well he was sure to remind him of his mistakes with a lesson the brute would remember, but he had to proceed with more caution from now on, considering the pitiful state the other boy seemed to have left the German in. Then again, there also was a spark of acknowledgement for the lesson well taught, if dimmed by the disappointment by all the traces he had left behind in doing so. Perhaps he should add a course on how to cover one's tracks to the tutoring curriculum...

Alaric sneered at him as his comment, "Well there is nothing to talk about, so bye," he muttered angrily. What did he care? What did anyone care. He was the one that constantly messes up, surely everyone would be happy when he finally met his maker. Maybe it would control him more, reign him in. He just wanted to feel wanted. To feel like someone actually likes him and people like Nichlas were NOT helping in this manner. The other boy got closer to him, putting on where a litter of bruises lay like artwork in his skin. He tried pushing him away to not avail. "I fell over," he grumbled weakly. It was believable, he didn't exactly look where he was going. Probably what lead to Forsberg cornering him like this.

He listened to Forsberg's next words with a burning disdain. A small part of him knew he was goading him for a reaction, but the German boy was too tired. The fight pummelled out of him. For now anyway. There is the debate over being 'stupid or stubborn' and everyone is quick to label him stupid, but a little bit of stubbornness can get you wonders. He brought the conversation to the stupid Russian. Alaric clenched his jaw, why couldn't he just drop it. Ha. Sunshine. More like the stormy cloud above yonder. Lar clenched his fists and leaned back against the wall, his head lolling to the side as he watched everything but Forsberg. Ric knew that there was no point in hiding it from the older boy; he basically had all the facts anyway, but to say it out loud? That he got... beat up by the other boy for things that happened ages ago.

But there was something the other boy said that got him thinking. Was it injustice... or did he deserve it? Alaric felt a lodge in his throat. He knew that his words affected the Russian, the day that he pushed him over, he knew that his outspoken words were getting to them all, but it is just what he has been brought up to believe. It was the correct way of thinking, but he can't help that Slava's own parents didn't raise him correctly. "Slava... is an enigma. I know how he holds himself, I have been here nearly two years, but there is devil under all that angel-- that sunshine. Like Lucifer waiting to be awoken," he gritted out. "But he needn't worry; I'm not going to rat him out. Or that inconsequential lapdog that he was with. Next time I won't be so lenient, maybe I will tell father and he can straighten him out," he would NOT be telling mother or Klaus though. They would probably berate him for being weak and letting a muggle-lover walk all over him. "He was... getting me back for what went down during our time at Hogwarts during the summer," Alaric explained, his voice may sound subdued but there was a metaphorical fire in his brown eyes-- if it were a muggle TV show then the events would have played back in his eyes as he remembered that day as clear as these past few torturous minuets.

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Reducio

𝒜𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈
Charmer
Broken Broomshaft

𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓋𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒷:
@Alan Vanes (Nichlas Forsberg)

𝑀𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔:
@Ruby Cazares (Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky)
@Fang Hui-Ying (Klaus Havertz}

𝒯𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈
N/A

WC: 535/200

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

"I disagree," Nichlas said calmly, almost haughtily as he dismissed the younger boy's desire to let this topic rest. "I think it would be wise of you to not make yourself target of my wrath, my patience is ever so thin, you see," the Swede was quick point out. A threat it was not, it seemed like a promise, spoken in such casual manner that it might have been easy to confused as an offhand comment, not tied to any intention. However if Alaric remembered, and it would be in his best interest to, the incident with the backfiring spell, then he would know well enough not to write off any such comments made by the Swede. If he would, it was proven certainty that he would come to regret such neglience. Not that Nichlas would mind to teach him better...

"Your clumsiness 'concerns' me, perhaps I should address a letter to the Nurse to give you a ban on Quidditch. Surely with your amount of accidents she must find herself inclined to agree: backfiring spells, being littered with bruises from falling down places, aggressive tendencies, refusal to seek their help... why you sound like quite the danger to yourself. I would make them worry you would hit yourself with the bludgers too!" Nichlas spun the threat, each word like a thread weaving a plan that would certainly put the younger student on the spot. Or worse, at risk of losing access to his sport simply due to petty plans and situations Nichlas could orchestrate to make the other's life just a tad more difficult. The Swede was a meddlesome lad and while perhaps actively making the German a target of his foul moods was beneath him, he would not shy away from utilizing the possibility of doing so within the arguments and play a game of chicken that the blonde would be sure to win.

Nichlas almost rolled his eyes at the dramatic description but did not. "I believe comparing him to 'Lucifer' is quite exaggerated, he has more likeness to an imp that caught you by surprise. Overall harmless but underestimated and quite devious if left to its own devices," He responded almost casually as he tested the metaphor in his mind, weighing the options and finding the comparison sufficient. "You would let your father fight your battles? My, you lack even more spine than I assumed and that is despite me finding you were missing a backbone," he mused, impossibly losing even more of the already lacking respect for the other. "Though I daresay I am curious to know who had accompanied Slava on his... quest last night," Nichlas meant it, as all information was power. Especially information that was as valuable as blackmail material or facts that would help him get a grander picture of the happenings.

"What is it that you have done to bother him so? Clearly something must have happened after the encounter before the big game," The Swede was slowly working on arranging the puzzle pieces until they snapped into place and allowed him a better perspective. He would not dare call himself invested in the issue, however it did give him piece of mind to be able to put a situation aside in his mind without further questions. Having a good overview on the drama and events happening around him was almost calming in a sense. Especially if said drama was evovling around people that were part of his life, whether he liked them to be or not.