A Question of Ethics PV Remedy Norden closed

remedy norden.
I'M THE PRETTIEST POISON YOU'VE EVER SEEN.
♦ A Question of Ethics, 10th of February 2024 in the Duelling Club, Hogwarts ♦
Marble Borders by Ulysses Drake

Victory remained the manifestation of one's aptitude and exertion, however the Slytherin had hypothesized since Avery's inconceivable demise in the Dungeons that these factors concluded not to be the sole determinants of a successful dueling strategy.

There lay the immeasurable element of pure idiotic luck alongside foreseeing your potential opponents and their own aptitude with a wand which would be at play. It was recognized predators would lie in wait before the kill, learning their target’s behavior and weak points, so that's just precisely what Remedy would do.

The familiar palpable charge filled the space, and the usual thrill struck the girl clutching her notepad as she ambled through the towering oak doors. The raven-haired Slytherin remained a frequent attendee of the Duelling Club, and yet Remedy seldom showcased her wandwork; to her, not giving too much remained part of her ploy and formed an air of mystery that only alluded to her calculated reputation. She would oftentimes reveal her prowess in small doses with a venomous tongue and a snappy wand, ensuring that both current adversaries and future dueling opponents stayed oblivious to Remedy's machinations at play. Though she was not a frequent contender upon the piste according to those who knew her by name, the girl was renowned for having a penchant for exploiting weaknesses outside the Duelling Club and would remain a witch to not be trifled with nonetheless.

Rushing footsteps and echoes cascading of incantations slung by her fellow classmates, quite enchanting a melody to her ears; it was only a matter of time before the girl would find her position on the piste, and best believe Remedy was counting down the days; every moment expended in the Duelling Club alleviated her of usual caustic features, replacing them with an uncanny joy that was not often expressed upon her countenance. Remedy was a chancer at heart, a strategist, an opportunist -- and affluent was she who studied her fellow students like specimens, jotting any noticeable patterns and applying them to her craft that the Slytherin rathered practice in solitude. One such expendable lesson accredited to observation was the significance of evasion midst duelling; Remedy was privy to this since watching her father's national duelists in action, and later her cousin bested because his lacking in footwork. The girl would not make the same errors as her kinfolk, though good and well took heed to Avery's prodigal self's aptitude with next year's curriculum; the blessing of having older siblings, Remedy could only assume.

Taking a seat on the wooden bleachers positioned on the right side of the space, the girl reclined against the bleacher at her back and crossed her legs while jotting notes. Nobody of actual relevance had arrived yet, but the morning was young, and that didn't deter her from monitoring the new faces that made their acquaintance. These fresh bodies, compared to their more older and seasoned peers, were ultimately the ones Remedy would face off against when she became a Veridian Viper, though one of these busybodies who slung spells was a first-year Slytherin like herself, though his name was absent from her memory and was confident they shared a class or two.

"Hmm," she hummed to herself, writing a note down before shutting the tome and slipping it into her satchel. In a graceful stride, Remedy wore a smirk as she approached the platform on which he stood and leaned against the side, "Why did you stop?"

@Reginald Drake.

@Remedy Norden

Reginald's arm twitched as he almost reached for his wand, still feeling the rush of adrenaline from an imaginary duel against an incomprehensible foe. However, he restrained himself as he looked down at the girl who had called out to him after he had put his wand away. "Hmm? Oh, you're wondering why I stopped training?" he said as he sat down at the edge of the platform, sweat still lining his brows. It was an interesting question. He was tired, but fatigue was never an issue for him.

As he surveyed the dueling club, he saw that the duelists were casting spells with abandon, both harmful and peaceful ways of incapacitating their enemies. They were using all the tricks in the book, but it was clear that they had no real tricks up their sleeves. He smiled to himself, realizing that the reason he had stopped was not because of them, but because of the dummy he was just training with.

But, giving the right answer away was always the most boring option. "I say I stopped because I'm tired, because I didn't want to show people what I could do, or even because this dueling space is a little suffocating." He said with a smile, a crinkling of his eyes showing his obvious amusement at the situation.

He stretched his arms high above his head and shifted his legs, hitting against the stone of the platform he was sitting on, a rhythmic beat filling the silence that he placed between sentences, though not much silence could exist in a place as populated as the dueling club. "Why do you think I stopped, though? You're smart. You have a notebook." He said with a small smirk and a twinkle in his eyes. He usually didn't mess with people, but she seemed like fun. No one tried to approach him when he fought before. Not in the muggle world or the magical.

"I'll even give you a prize if you guess right. You get to help me fix whatever issue it is and I get back to training, so Slytherin doesn't get a chance to lose next year."

Word count: 351 words
Notes: N/A

♦ A Question of Ethics, 10th of February 2024 in the Duelling Club, Hogwarts ♦

The palpable charge remained thick in the air between them; the spirit of the duel reverberating off the walls of the Dueling Club ever intoxicating.

There lay traces of electricity behind his smile; not only could the boy duel as demonstrated, but the fellow Slytherin had a certain aptitude to dance, too. As he planted himself on the ledge of the piste, her smirk refused to falter as Remedy's brown gaze perused over his sweat-lined form, his icy gaze, and sharp features. The Vipress raised a curious brow, him and his word alike evoking her inquisitive nature to oblige further banter.

Both fascination and amusement illuminated her bold features as the girl sensed a mutual spectacle midst their exchange. Cackling softly in reply to his response, Remedy rested her head upon her folded arms, her brown beady eyes glued to him like a python lying for the kill: "You're a man among geniuses if owning a notebook makes one smart," the Slytherin jested in return, an equanimous, brazening glint in her eyes, "But, very well, I'll bite."

Her token smirk realigned her face as the ravenette girl leaned away from the piste, her brown gaze scouring the fellow duelists in the domain: "You're a perfectionist when it comes to dueling. Stubborn, unmoving, head-on. Your footwork leaves more to be desired, but I think you could have the potential for success-" her gaze met his icy stare, "-but don't flatter yourself. Your sloppy evasion will inhibit you no matter how good you believe yourself to be. You must be adaptable on the piste, and so I believe your problem is that you lack a real challenge, a moving target that can push you further to be light on your, to help you adapt," she paused, acknowledging the worn training dummy that suffered the boy's wrath.

Remedy humored herself by intentionally omitting her convictions regarding his confidence, lying in wait to gauge his reaction to the bait she had so cleverly laid for him. Antsy for his quip, her twinkling gaze returned to his, preparing to be greeted with his acquiescence or wrath alike.

"Well?" she inquired cooly after a moment’s silence, internally yet avidly fortifying herself according to the nature of his retort. There was a hint of challenge in her eye and a deepening smirk with each second the boy appeared on the backfoot, the game board jigged from underneath.

She'd be greeted with his confuddled silence; perhaps he was rethinking snake charming. Perhaps his dueling career, too. A lighthearted chuckle escaped her lips as she leaned away from the wall and began collecting her things, "Should you decide to stick with dueling, I hope you do us Slytherins proud. We don't need another halfwit phony representing us."

Remedy has left the thread.

@Reginald Drake.