𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙵𝙸𝚃: Reducio

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▪ 𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈 ▪ ▪ FELIX ▪ KOLBECK ▪ ▪ DURMSTRANG iNPC ▪ SIXTH YEAR ▪

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𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂: Reducio N/A

Linnéa Kolbeck was up to something, Felix could tell as soon as he arrived home for winter break and saw her snide smile. She had brought an endless parade of questions since he had attended the fall ball with Greta. It was horrifyingly clear to him that his mother thought she could dress him up, smooth out the rough edges and try to play matchmaker.

He wasn't sure why she thought she could control his life after all these years; it hadn't worked before. His sisters were well into their third year at Durmstrang and clearly needed way more help than he did. Professional help, that was. Freja had about a hundred of those dead-eyed porcelain dolls and Erika couldn't stop tossing them all around the house in an attempt to jump-scare her family. Couldn’t his mother focus on ruining their lives instead?!

It was to his complete and utter horror that Linnea announced she planned to host a Christmas Event. Tomorrow. As in the 24th. She made it seem like it was a last minute thing, but despite what his mother seemed to think Felix was not born yesterday. He could only half-glare at her as she went on about the guests list. He could only imagine the collection of 'charmers' she had managed to swindle into attending; old family acquaintances, Durmstrang students and likely alumni with inflated egos, and probably every eligible pureblood girl who had the misfortune of being on Linnéa’s matchmaking list. Before Felix could even try to protest his mother told him to think of his attendance as a way to make up for all those parties he had spent 'sulking in a corner', but if Lin thought for one moment he wasn't going to spend this party doing the same damn thing, then maybe she was born yesterday.

Panic about the event didn't set in until that evening. Felix just happened to walk through the residential wing and noticed a guest room's door slightly ajar. When he stepped closer to take a peek, he saw one of their house elves, Clippy, rushing around the room. His stomach dropped. The entire room had been transformed, like his mother was expecting a royal family to stay at their estate. A palette of gold and light blue, the bed was the centerpiece of the room, with a plush headboard and a canopy that shielded the bed with long blue curtains. A mountain of pillows were piled on top of the quilted bedspread. A lavish crystal chandelier hung above it all, the ceiling painted to resemble a night sky.

To make it even worse, among the fancy gold accents, detailed moldings, and elegant furniture... IIn the far left corner, there was a large wardrobe displaying an array of gowns in shades of champagne, pinks, and pale blues. Their silks and satins catching the soft light in a way that screamed... wealth.

When he tried to question Clippy about the room, she only smiled and told him that they were preparing it for her mistress' special guest. Felix didn't need her to explain further; with what felt like a punch to his gut, he knew exactly who she was talking about. Fuck. No wonder Lin hadn't told him about the party sooner; she was fucking ambushing him.

Felix's mother stayed well hidden the next day, slipping through the sidelines as she prepared the estate. The party was set to begin in the evening, and an entire day of groaning about how much his life sucked sure did make the time pass quickly.

The estate would be familiar to some of his hexwizard team mates who had attended bootcamp there a few years prior. Several centuries old, the Kolbeck manor lay beyond a vast sparkling lake. It had been enchanted with the muggle-repelling charm to keep any curious non-magic users away; if one were to even attempt to approach the dwelling they would suddenly remember they had to do something urgent. The red stone work was well kept despite the ivy vines climbing up the building’s sides. The style of the building a form of Danish Renaissance, with large pointed and spired-like roofs sheltering various towers.

As the guests arrived they would be greeted by a team of house elves, who would offer to take their outdoor gear. The grand entrance of the estate had been decorated for the season, with several bushy evergreen trees lining the hallway, garlands of greenery and lights draped over arches and columns, a large, ornate chandelier cast a warm light over the entryway.

The 'mistresses' or 'masters' would be escorted by an elf towards a ball room in the west wing of the manor. As they made their way down the grand staircase, they were greeted by the sight of an ornate room decorated for the festivities. The high ceiling had been enchanted to resemble the night sky, the chandelier seemed to resemble glittering icicles, and the walls and balconies had been draped with the same greenery and lights from the entryway.

In the center of the room stood a large Christmas tree, draped in a dazzling array of lights and gold, silver, red, and green ornaments. Several large packages had been wrapped and placed beneath the lower branches. A dozen round tables had been set with white tablecloths, fine china, and a centerpiece that consisted of a tall ornate vase filled with evergreen branches, fairy lights, and candles. The chairs surrounding the tables were upholstered in a rich, dark blue fabric.

Linnéa stood by the staircase, ready to greet her guests. She wore a dress that was such a deep blue shade that it looked almost black in dim lighting, with silver embroidery work and an off-the-shoulder cut. Her neck was adorned with a diamond necklace that she'd paired with a set of diamond chandelier earrings. She had pulled her white hair into a half updo, pinned back with a single hairpin that sported a sparkling snowflake design.

Her son stood beside her with a sour expression. She had all but forced Felix to wear a suit she had, no doubt, ordered weeks in advance. He was dressed in a tailored suit. The suit lapels were etched with silver embroidery, forming various snowflake patterns. His waist coat had an intricate damask pattern. A cravat (kill him now, PLEASE) completed the look, and had a silver snowflake pin that matched his mother's hairpin.

FELIX: English ▪ Swedish ▪ Russian | LINNÉA: English ▪ Swedish ▪ Russian

GUEST LIST:

Durmstrang Students:
@Evelynn Decipio as Greta, @Uri Davies as Anichka, @Archer Duncan as Hans, @Anastasia Varney as Astrid, @Pericles Dralt as Madhup, @Piérre Marchonné as Romeo, @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood as Valentin, @Percival Rainwood as Mikael, @Ileen Knight as Amina, @Tristan Theramin as Gellert, @Astrea Soleil Neptune as Johannes, @Ruby Cazares as Slava, @Alan Vanes as Nichlas, @Phaedra Stavrou as Lysander

Hogwarts Students:
@Aly Salinger, @Opeila Winters, @Cassius Eden

Everyone is welcome to say they are accompanied by parents or if you're over 16 you can just come alone.

Note: I only tagged the people who expressed interest and/or said maybe, you can still attend if interested but please send me an owl first so I know if it would make sense!

Val arrived at the expected time, and yet, something was off about him. He seemed barely awake, as if he hadn’t slept for days. Maybe he hadn’t. In the right light, the niffler could have passed for a raccoon that fell into a can of silver paint. Still, his outfit couldn’t offend even the bloodthirstiest pureblood aesthete, elegant and tasteful in its depiction of the Nutcracker’s snow king. He was even wearing the snowflake bracelet that Amina had given him last Christmas. Yet, if there was light still in his eyes, it would take some effort to catch it between his half-closed Tatarian eyelids. His now shoulder-long hair fell in a mess as Val leaned against a gleaming opal-and-icicle-studded staff, which previous attendees of the Hexiwizard Championship’s wizard’s chess match would recognize as his original grand scepter, which had been elongated in order to better match his current costume and allow him to sink his weight into the ground while “standing.”

Although Sergei had tried to trick and coerce him into staying home, nothing could stop Val from shambling like a White Walker into Kolbeck’s party. The tsun-tsun vegetarian was a priority and, especially on a day like today, Val was not about to neglect the people he held dear. It was a kind of sympathetic magic to be here, anyway. If Valentin could just manage to show up and not lose consciousness face-first into an offering at the dinner table, then maybe he could ward off any recurring nightmares for Felix. He should have a peaceful, happy evening. Somebody should, even if Val felt doomed to succumb to his demons. After all, t’was the season.

“Good evening, Madam Kolbeck. Oh, Felya. What a nice cravat.” The sassy greeting was strategic, hoping for a reaction that would surely bring humor and cheer to the room. Valentin was not about to spare Kolbeck regardless of whether his mother was standing right there, either. Especially if Greta was present, Val intended to draw attention to the boy’s most endearing qualities, such as his humility and his adorable, hallmark episodes of getting flustered. “Quite fitting for such a prim and proper magnate as yourself.” Smirking, Val eyed his surroundings. Despite underlying gravel in his tired voice, Val’s loving tone would convey the good will behind his jabs. “You’ve always been such a gifted party planner, Felya. This doesn’t quite look like your style – I must say, I enjoyed your personal handiwork better. Still, such a great lord as yourself must surely need to delegate sometimes. After all, your hair is so perfect tonight, that had to have taken some time.”

@Winnie Harper (Felix), @Ileen Knight (Amina)

date: -

mentions: Reducio @Winnie Harper (Felix Kolbeck)

Outfit

Here by OOC invitation from Winnie's writer.
Finn can be interacted with and ends up positioned a few feet away from, but very much within the view of, Felix Kolbeck.
Finn's sister Rose is a dNPC, so her interaction will be somewhat limited, but she can be approached near the Christmas tree, which she's eating from, like an animal.

Winter had sharp teeth in Sweden. They bit through Finn's tacky Christmas jumper as he huddled on his bunk, watching his breath spiral up toward the cabin's rough-hewn rafters. An ancient radiator wheezed and sputtered in the corner, doing little to heat the room and a lot to irritate him. His mam kept nattering on about "rustic charm," but there wasn't much charming about freezing your bits off in the middle of nowhere.

He pulled out his phone for the millionth time. No signal. Of course not. Soon he'd have no battery either and then he might as well sleep for the rest of the day.

"Finny! FINNY!" Rose's voice cut through the radiator's dying breaths. "You've got to see this!" She'd barged into the cabin in the woods, her face white except and her hair bunches up under a thick, red winter hat. "There's a bloody castle!"

"Huh?"

"There's a castle by the lake!"

His mother looked up from her cooking. "A castle?"

"Yeah, real big one."

"You don't mean our lake do you?"

"I do!"

Finn sat up. It wasn't their lake of course, they just happened to be on holiday near it. Going to a cabin in the woods in the middle of ruddy nowhere had been his dad's idea.

"Mam, please can we go, please?" Rose hadn't learned how to plead properply yet. She overdid it, but Caitlyn nodded regardless.

"Just be back on time and stick together, yes? I want you both back before dark." She shot a pointed look at Finn. Why did she always put all the responsibility on him?

Once he'd strapped his boots on and thrown on his wintercoat, Finnegan followed the footprints left by his sister's secondhand wellies. Rose had rushed across the small clearing and jumped up and down near the winding road that snaked up a hill, overlooking the vast lake. "C'mon, Finn, c'mon! It's brilliant!"

"Look! Can't you see it?"

Finn squinted across the frozen lake. There, rising from the mist like something out of a storybook, stood a castle with great spires and warm light spilling from a hundred windows.

Rose bounced on her heels, sending snow flying from her feet. "Can we go closer? Please, Finn?"

Something wasn't right. Finn glanced back toward their cabin. Smoke curled from the chimney and their mam stood in the window, wiping dishes with a tea towel. She looked right past the castle as if it weren't even there.

"Alright then," he said, once he'd checked he had his wand on him. "But we'll only have a quick look."

When they had closed half the distance, he heard faint music drifting from across the lake. Not the tinny pop songs that they'd listen to on the ride to their cabin, but something far classier. A waltz? He couldn't be sure.

"Oooohhh, there's a party on!" Rose smiled mischievously.

"A private party."

"But a party."

"We're not invited."

"We weren't not not invited."

Finnegan stopped in his track. "That doesn't make any sense... Ro-"

She'd already skipped several feet ahead and was sticking out her tongue at him over her shoulder.

"We're tresspassing!" he hissed the minute he caught back up with her.

Gargoyles perched on the battlements, their stone wings frosted with ice while banners, emblazoned with crests he didn't recognize, snapped in the wind. The castle had the same ageless quality as Hogwarts, though it seemed more modern and refined.

A small figure darted across their path, carrying a huge tray filled with tarts and drinks and-

The house-elf was gone just as quickly, but Finnegan could've sworn it had shot them a suspicious look before disappearing around the bend.

"We should go back, c'mon Rose."

"We're just having a look. Here!" Rose pointed to a small door set into the castle's base, partially hidden by a curtain of ivy. Steam billowed out each time it opened, carrying the smell of roasted meat and spices. "Oh, it smells lovely."

He recognized the glint in her eye.

"No, Rose, n-!"

Before Finn could catch her, she'd darted through the door. Cursing under his breath he hurried after her.

Heat and noise hit him like a wave. The kitchen was chaos, house-elves and human servants alike rushing about with platters of food and drink. Crystal decanters floated through the air. A massive cauldron of something sweet-smelling bubbled without any visible flame beneath it.

"You two!" A sharp voice cut through the din. A witch in elegant black robes bore down on them, her grey hair swept up in a severe bun. She spoke Swedish, but she was pointing at them and waving them over. Finnegan turned to run, but the door had fallen shut behind them and their path back out was blocked by a dozen milling servants. "What are you doing standing about? The guests are waiting!" Within a matter of seconds Rose's hat was off, and so was her coat, and his too! When she noticed their wellies she exclaimed something foul, snapped her finger, and not a moment later they were being dragged along by a frightened house-elf, urging them into a tiny room and shoving black, polished shoes into their hands. Rose tried asking the house-elf for his name, but he'd already skittered off, looking hopelesly tired.

"We should leave now" Finn hissed between his teeth.

"Did you look around you Finn? We're in a great castle! Oh I can't wait to see all the-"

The woman had returned, hands on her hips, towering over the both of them. She thrust a silver tray of champagne flutes into Finn's hands, the liquid inside sparkling with actual stars. Rose found herself similarly laden with tiny cakes that changed color every few seconds.

"I specifically requested servants from good families," the witch muttered, adjusting Finn's collar with sharp, disapproving movements. "Why are you wearing a curtain, girl? Herregud... " She sighed deeply, then pushed them out the door and pointed them down the corridor.

"Who was that?" Rose asked innocently.

"How should I know?" Finn snapped back, his voice cracking. "This was your idea, I told you we shouldn-"

Another agitated servant bumped past, stopped, turned on his heel and began talking to them in rapid Swedish. He didn't look happy at all and was waving his arms about, gesturing towards their trays and down the corridors.

"I think he wants us to follow him," Finn hissed when the man briefly had his back turned on them.

Soon they were swept along by the current of servants, through a set of double doors and into a large ballroom. Rose's eyes nearly popped out her skull and it was only because Finn tugged hard at her sleeve that she stopped gawking at the huge Christmas tree.

"What?"

Finn dipped his chin toward his tray.

"Oh. Right."

A pair of eagerly chatting witches forced them apart, and soon Finn had lost sight of his younger sister entirely. Yet every time he tried to look for her or search a way out, someone would come up to him and pick something off his tray. They didn't even bother to look at him.

The great mistake he made was that he had decided he had enough right in front of a sour looking boy who happened to be the heir to this humble abode Felix Kolbeck. To the Swedish pureblood, it would seem that not only was one of his servants hard at work to take off his shoes, he also happened to look far younger than any of the other servants walking about. Not to mention the crisp, winter smell on him instead of an elegant cologne. Indeed, this particular servant had his wand out and had set his tray on the floor.

Not much further off, near the Christmas tree, an even more peculiar scene unfolded. A girl in servant's clothes, looking even younger than the odd boy, was merrily picking treats from the Christmas tree.

Who, in Merlin's name, had let these smelly, stray children in?

The arrival of Vladimir Athanatos was heralded not by fanfare but by a quiet, chilling gravity that settled over Kolbeck Manor like a winter frost. A sleek black carriage drawn by a team of thestrals emerged from the dense mist surrounding the manor grounds. The creatures moved soundlessly over the cobblestones, their spectral, often invisible forms unnerving even to those accustomed to magical beasts. Some felt that such creatures were a bad omen, signifying death and loss, but to Vladimir Athanatos they represented a hidden reality that he had become intimate with.

The man who stepped down from the carriage seemed to belong to the mist itself. Vladimir Athanatos was a tall, gaunt figure, his presence commanding without the need for flamboyance. His sharp features were pale as marble, his cheekbones high and shadowed, as though the man had been carved from stone by a sculptor intent on evoking both beauty and unease. His eyes, a piercing shade of ice blue, brighter perhaps than those who knew him in life would have remembered,seemed to see through the very soul of anyone who dared meet his gaze.

He was well known in pureblooded and wizarding circles. The former heir of the Athanatos family. allegedly dead, but that did nmot last long. The papers submitted a retraction the next day, claiming that his death was prematurely announced. The days that followed quietly mentioned a miraculous recovery and then the former heir apparent faded into obscurity.

Vladimir’s attire was impeccably tailored, but it bore none of the ostentation common among wizarding elite. A high-collared black coat with subtle silver embroidery swept down to his knees, buttoned sharply and lined with dark velvet. Beneath it, a waistcoat of deep midnight blue caught the faintest glint of light, its subtle shimmer suggestive of starlight or what a muggle might call "glitter" in a pedestrian manner. His gloves, pristine and white, contrasted starkly with his attire, as if to emphasize his detachment from the world around him. Yet his boots, oddly enough were just that. Boots, thick and heavy, made of black leather. Clean, shining in fact. But most certainly not what one would wear to a fette such as this, but there were few that would dare give fashion advice to the former scion of the Athanatos family.

The Athanatos family was known of course for their wealth and their pureblooded heritage, but they were best known for their diviners. A family capable of seeing into the threads of fate, sometimes even twisting the threads to favor those with the right coin. Undoubtedly they had twisted the fates for themselves personally and the truly conspiratorial wondered if that 'error' in reporting was nothing more than a crack in an otherwise pristine-seeming facade.

Vladimir moved with the precision of a clockwork automaton—each step deliberate, measured, and unyielding. As Vladimir entered the grand hall of Kolbeck Manor, the warmth of the season’s decorations seemed to recede in his presence, the air growing ever so slightly colder. The house elves greeted him with deep bows, offering to take his gloves and coat. He relinquished the latter without hesitation, though his gloves remained firmly in place, as if to preserve some barrier between himself and the room, no the rest of the world.

Vladimir’s pale lips curved into a faint, humorless smile as he surveyed the lavishly decorated hall, his eyes taking in the towering evergreen trees, the garlands, and the lights. “Kolbeck Manor wears the season well,” he remarked, his voice smooth yet devoid of warmth. There was an edge to his words, an inscrutable layer that left those nearby wondering if he had offered a compliment or merely a statement of fact. Internally he wondered if the decor was truly due to a festive spirit or due to a yearning to be accepted by society.

As he stepped farther into the entryway, he made no effort to engage in small talk. Yet his presence demanded attention, and it was clear he would not need to raise his voice to silence a room. A passing guest ventured a polite greeting, and Vladimir’s response was clipped and formal. “The evening holds promise,” he said, the faintest flicker of interest. He was looking for something he doubted could be found at such a gathering. He was of course looking for a wife, not that he would willingly announce such a frivolity, nor did he expect to find what he desired. Not here amongst ladder climbers and... his eyes glanced towards the peasant child cramming food into their gullet as if they had not been fed in days. No, most certainly not, he told himself. A wasted trip.

Though the manor was filled with warmth and light, Vladimir Athanatos moved through it as though untouched by either. He did not linger, but his presence was unmistakable—an enigma wrapped in cold certainty, his shadow stretching long across the gilded halls of Kolbeck Manor.

𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙵𝙸𝚃: Reducio

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▪ 𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈 ▪ ▪ FELIX ▪ KOLBECK ▪ ▪ DURMSTRANG iNPC ▪ SIXTH YEAR ▪

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𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂: Reducio @Evelynn Decipio as Greta @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood as Valentin @Anastasia Varney as Astrid @Ira Thornfield @Finnegan Connor @Vladimir Athanatos

Lin busied herself greeting all the guests, a polite nod here, a comment about someone's outfit there. The Olsen family was greeted and offered drinks by one of the servers. Champagne for the adults (16+) and sparkling apple juice for the children. "Ms. Oslen, Ms. Thornfield, is it a pleasure to see you today; I'm so glad you all could make it."

When his white haired friend started his descent down the staircase like a well-dressed zombie, Felix thought he was about to be saved, but instead the JERK threw him under the bus.

Fitting? A CRAVAT? The absolute nerve of Mr. skeletor of the Artic to waltz in looking like a glitter-dipped wraith and immediately put the spotlight on him. "What? Are you on something?" His question was laced with half-annoyance, half-concern for his friend. Seriously, how was this guy still standing?

At least his mother seemed amused, "It's nice to see you, Mr. Schnell. I would be insulted by your comments on my decorating skills, if I weren't so intrigued. You say my son has an eye for party planning?"

When Greta appeared at the top of the staircase, sparkling like she had descended from the heavens itself, Felix’s breath caught in his throat. His heart gave a sharp, painful thud as his eyes locked onto her. Holy shit.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, and ended up screaming internally at himself. His throat tightened, taking in a shaking breath before he forced himself to swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. Who the hell had given her permission to look... Like this? Greta was already beautiful, but tonight she looked like an angel.

His reaction was all her fault; how could she do this to him? Could she not see how her mere existence tormented him? He had no idea how to exist around her. How the hell was he supposed to stand here and act normal when she looked like that?!

"Pick your jaw up off the floor and compose yourself; the night has just started." He heard his mother whisper to him in Swedish.

When Felix saw Lin looking at the Norwegian with a smile, realization hit him like a ton of bricks; this was her doing. Damn her, always pulling strings behind the scenes. Well, if she thought for one second that her meddling was going to pay off—She was right, because the nervous blush Greta wore on her cheeks almost undid him.

"Greta," he said finally, his voice lower and rougher than he intended, "You look..." He stepped forward, his hand brushing against her arm before he suddenly pulled back. The fear of losing control again gripped his throat. He could not sully her, like he had during the Mistletoe Ball.

"You look..." He started again, his voice softer, "Incredible." He flinched, knowing that was not the word for it. The issue was that he couldn't put into words how she made him feel; he was no poet, he did not use flowery words or make grand gestures.

Lin stepped forward to draw the Norwegian into her arms, "Greta, my dear, you are always welcome to stay here in our family's home whenever you'd like; you are like family, after all."

The Swede glanced away as his mother hugged Greta, unable to stare at her for too long without his stomach getting knotted. From the corner of his eye he noticed two children(?) servers that seemed to be starkly out of place. He honestly didn't care that much; it would be funny if they ruined his mother's party. Still, he couldn't keep standing next to Greta while she looked like she had stepped out of his own personal fantasies.

So, he would go to investigate. Stepping towards the boy, he gave him a raised brow, his eyes flickering over the outfit choice, "You seem lost." He started in English, figuring it was universally known. "Take the stairs, second floor, first room on the left. Take whatever clothes you want." His old clothes had been shoved away in a spare closet, Merlin only knew why his mother insisted on keeping them. It wasn't like he was going to magically shrink.

He glanced back to his mother in time to watch as her gaze drifted back to the staircase, watching as a blonde man made his descent. Felix did a quick one over of the guy. He looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place his face. He had an unapproachable aura anyways, as if a dark cloud was looming over him. The Swede felt a chill run up his spine.

Then, much to his absolute horror, his mother would slide an arm around Greta's shoulders and start to guide her towards the gloomy stranger. "Mr. Athanatos, I was delighted when you accepted my invitation." His mother's voice was floated out in the practiced smooth manner she reserved for her events.

Felix's gaze locked back onto the man standing nearby his mother and Greta, and flickered rapidly up and down his form. Tall, handsome, but gaunt, with sharp eyes that made Felix feel like an ant under a telescope (if he knew what the hell that was). Everything about this guy screamed danger, so why the hell was his mother allowing Greta to get so close to him?

"I would like you to meet Ms. Margarethe Fransson, she is a close family friend." The moment his mother introduced the Norwegian, Felix felt his stomach drop. Nope, absolutely not. He practically elbowed his way through any obstacles, weaving through the crowd and ignoring how the air seemed to get colder as he drew closer to the tall scary hunk that his mother was offering Greta on a platter to.

He cleared his throat, loudly.

From the corner of his eye, he could see his mother's eyes narrowing in warning. Still, she introduced him, rather reluctantly, "... And my son, Felix."

FELIX: English ▪ Swedish ▪ Russian | LINNÉA: English ▪ Swedish

"Mr. Athanatos, I was delighted when you accepted my invitation."

Of course she was. He turned to address a pair of radiant creatures, both diminutive comparatively to the pureblood. He had arrived in his father's stead, Christmas Eve is not a day of travel, certainly not for the patriarch of the family. The date was ill-conceived, but the visions made the journey worthwhile.

"I would like you to meet Ms. Margarethe Fransson, she is a close family friend."

Vladimir Athanatos inclined his head with measured precision, his sharp gaze sweeping briefly over Felix before settling on Greta with an intensity that felt like a gust of icy wind. His movements were deliberate, each small gesture imbued with an eerie, dark elegance. Despite the warmth of the room, Vladimir seemed untouched by it, his pale features starkly contrasted against the glow of the festive surroundings. Like a wrath at the ballet.

“Mrs. Kolbeck. Ms. Fransson,” he murmured, his voice smooth and low, with a timbre that seemed to echo faintly. His eyes flitting between the two with a quiet intelligence. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

As he spoke, his gloved hand extended toward the elder, a gesture both polite and expectant. Yet, there was something in his posture, an unspoken authority that suggested one did not refuse an Athanatos. He would attempt to lift her hand and bring her knuckles to his lips. “Kolbeck Manor may wear the season’s finery, but it is your presence that truly elevates this evening.” He paused as if in contemplation, before he added with a tone of sincerity. "Your hair," a slight upward twitch of his lips, "you wear the Seer's mane well." Lovely in fact. Seers were well known for their characteristically white hair, often displaying shocks of white in their mid to late teens.

He would then bring his attention to the younger. She seemed to sparkle with life, a radiance that seemed so contrary to his own. He would reach out to touch... hand. Yes, her hand. To greet her as he did the elder of the duo. If their hands touched, his grip would be neither firm nor weak—it was precise, as if he had calculated the exact amount of pressure to convey respect without overstepping propriety. “Margarethe,” he said softly, testing her name with deliberate care, the syllables rolling from his tongue as if the act itself held significance.

Felix’s loud throat-clearing disrupted the exchange, and Vladimir turned his head with an unnervingly smooth motion, his piercing blue eyes locking onto the young Swede. The boy seemed out of place in finery, his shock of white hair suggesting that he, like his mother was a Seer if it was not for his dark brow. Odd he internally mused as he gave the imposter youth no further thought. Rather, for a long moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy and palpable, as though Vladimir were weighing Felix’s very soul.

“Felix,” he said at last, his tone polite but layered with an edge sharp enough to cut. “Your mother’s introductions do not do you justice. It is rare to encounter a young man with such… presence.” His lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile, though his eyes remained cold. “I imagine you have many admirers in these circles.”

Returning his attention to Greta, Vladimir allowed a pause, his focus entirely on her now, as if the rest of the room had faded into obscurity. “Forgive my forwardness, but I find myself intrigued. A rare occurrence, I assure you. Tell me, do you often find yourself surrounded by such devoted protectors?” His tone was layered with a chilling amusement, as if he knew precisely the effect he was having on everyone present.

Before she could respond, Vladimir added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper meant only for Greta, “Beware, Margarethe Fransson. Devotion is a blade that cuts both ways. And sometimes, those who claim to protect us…” His eyes flicked briefly to Felix, “...are the very ones who keep us caged.” The irony of those words likely lost to the radiant young creature.

Straightening, he clasped his hands behind his back, his gloved fingers intertwining as he glanced toward the chandelier, its warm light casting a faint shimmer across his stark features. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I mustn’t monopolize your attention. After all, the night is young, and I am certain there are many who would wish to bask in the radiance of you both.”

The words were spoken with impeccable courtesy, yet the chill in his tone lingered as he stepped back, his pale figure moving like a shadow through the crowd.

For having had three (read: 3) days' notice concerning this whole uptight affair, Aly Salinger had cleaned up quite well for the Kolbeck family winter's ball. In fairness, the gown had already been in her trunk and ready to go - after having tried to wear it to the previous spring's disastrous Magical Masquerade, here it was, finally getting its second chance at life. (Well, third, really - it had already been an antique, an old possession of Aly's paternal grandmother Marjorie, which the family house-elf Becca had found whilst cleaning out the attic.) Still, the puffed sleeves, high neck, ball-gown skirt, and astronomically accurate celestial design did nothing to disguise the sour look on the Ravenclaw's face as she slogged into the Swedish mansion - no, this paled in comparison to other manors Aly had attended, it was more like a castle, more like Hogwarts itself - behind her overeager mother, Hesper. The Auror's heels clicked on the floor much like they did on the stone floors of the Salinger house, sending shivers wracking down Aly's back; her mum had dressed much plainer in comparison to Aly's ball gown, in a slightly ruffled sleeveless halter dress that matched Aly's in colour only. ("To emulate our familial relation," Hesper had claimed on the journey. Apparently, such a thing was quite important when reintroducing a disgraced family to higher pureblood circles. As if Aly cared.)

The sixth-year Ravenclaw had been looking forward to a quiet holiday with her friends at Hogwarts, only to be told just the previous Saturday in a letter that she would need to pack and come "home" to Welwyn Garden City during Christmastime only to turn around and head to the second foreign country in as many school breaks. And now, here she was - following her mother into yet another strange, lavish, and overdecorated entryway to be greeted by a veritable army of house-elves. Aly left her fur-lined cloak, brand-new as a holiday gift from her absent mother, with one of them, pairing it with a kind smile though the creature scampered away after just a short bow. How different these were from the motherly Becca with whom Aly had grown up. Instead, Aly took a passive and mildly disinterested look at her surroundings, following Hesper and a different house-elf through the maze. The word gaudy came into her head, but then again, the home in which she had maturated was far more humble.

The house-elf led the Salingers towards the hosts, who were waiting in a different room that was far more like a ballroom, complete with a gigantic pine tree in the centre. Aly glanced up towards the ceiling, an involuntary gasp escaping her as she realised that it very much resembled her dress - she'd unknowingly adorned herself in stars for the occasion. Whether that would cause strife or acceptance, she had no idea, but she braced herself for the worst as Hesper moved to greet the matriarch (in a similar navy dress... apparently, Hesper's suggestion-slash-order that Aly wear the antique dress had not been a coincidence) with a slight bow of her head and some words in a language Aly didn't understand. (Note: Hesper greets Linnéa in rather rudimentary Swedish.) When her mother shot her a very pointed look afterwards, Aly dropped into a short curtsy - that's what people did with these fancy events, right? - and looked with unenthusiastic, if mildly nervous, green eyes up at the matriarch. "Hi, Mrs.... Kolbeck." She tried her best to pronounce the foreign name correctly, having been coached on the way by her mother, though with less-than-impressive results. "Sorry, I don't speak, er... other languages." Aly had to bite back saying whatever that is. Having only spoken English her entire life, foreign affairs was definitely not her strong suit - something she would eventually have to change, if she wanted to travel abroad.

A few teenagers, who looked to mostly be around her age, were lurking nearby with their own family, looking like they had just greeted the hosts themselves. Good, then, that they'd all arrived at around the same time. Aly cast sneaky looks their way, trying to subtly take them in and catalogue any details about them with her rather keen gaze. The one standing next to the host, looking like the slightly uncomfortable prodigal son (@Winnie Harper as Felix Kolbeck) in a navy suit covered in intricate silver embroidery, didn't seem too pleased to be there - unlike his guests, who all looked rather excited. Aly found herself admiring, despite herself, the complicated and circuitous updo of a curly-haired girl near her (@Evelynn Decipio as Greta Fransson), as well as contemplating the somewhat unique and definitely out-of-the-ordinary fashion of another girl nearby (@Anastasia Blackwood-Varney as Astrid Olsen). It seemed that the latter hadn't gotten the blue memo, and Aly found herself relieved that she herself had, because it made her seem like she blended in more despite her awkward and out-of-place demeanor. Lastly, another boy (@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood as Valentin Schnell) completed the set - silvery-haired and dressed in a matching silvery-blue suit, and upon looking at him, it dawned upon Aly that they were likely all from Durmstrang. Not only that, but they also all sported the exact same white-blonde shade of hair, making them all look disturbingly sort of like siblings, and Aly shivered. Okay, maybe her darker shade of brown - still light, but nowhere near this snow-like hue - would set her aside as an imposter, after all. Peri, however, would have fit right in, and Aly found herself wishing that she'd invited her white-haired friend (@Pericles Dralt), if only to have a shoulder to lean on. An escape to have, just in case.

In the meantime, she turned her attention back to the teenagers who were in attendance, half-hiding behind Hesper as she eyed them once more. Did any of them even speak English? Would she be stuck cowering behind her mother for however long this damned ball took?

It was only then that she noticed a familiar face - in a not-so-familiar outfit. Aly's jaw dropped at the sight of one @Finnegan Connor dressed like one of the family's servants, taking off his shoes in front of the hostess of the evening and her dour-looking son. Though she didn't dare move from behind Hesper, she would send a few hissed whispers his way: "Finn. Finnegan! What in the name of Merlin's bloody bloomers are you doing here?" Admittedly, though he seemed rather out of place amongst the fanciful decorations and rich pureblood, it was nice to see someone she knew - very close to someone she did not, or at least had not actively spoken to prior. Talking to the dour son was another blond boy (@Vladimir Athanatos) (Merlin, did they clone themselves or something?) - no, a man this one was, for though he didn't look much older than Aly herself, there was a certain air about him. He seemed vaguely familiar, and spoke in English, much to the Ravenclaw's relief; however, just as quickly as he greeted the hostess with practiced poise, he disappeared into the quickly gathering crowd. Aly's gaze lingered upon him for just a moment until he was out of her view. Yes, there was something about him that made Aly think she had seen him before, though she couldn't think of exactly where...