"English." "Italian. Translation." "Russian."

| Faint scar on left eye | | Mangled right ear |

Valetin Schnell & Charles Alluring
@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood & @Henry Knight

I shake my head to push away Charles' questions. I don't have time to be detailed, though I'm sure that I could be extremely so if I pleased.

"His gaze wasn't focused. Even if he wasn't, this is purely preventative of further harm." I split my attention in an uncomfortable way. I don't like having to sever my thoughts between two differing concerns. I need to be able to hear my thoughts, and sometimes the external thoughts of others tend to be just loud enough to throw me off of my rhythm.

Such is the case when Charles rudely mentions my inability to cast that charm with derogatory vulgarity, resulting in an almost audible crack as my head twitches to face him, teeth bared and eyes glowing with rage. I. Don't. Have. Time. For. This.

"Charlie. You do know as well as I do that I could strangle you with my Ferula, right?" I growl deep in my chest voice, my fingers curled about my wand angrily.

Before I act though, better judgement stays my hand, perhaps the subconscious knowledge that even despite this blonde's impetuousness and perhaps inadvertent insult, Charles was still trying to help. He meant well, even if his words had been a bit unnecessary crass.

"Sorry." I grumble in reaction. "I overstepped my boundaries. I did the best I could with what I had. Until your better help arrived." I gesture to the bandages. That's all.

Our dispute was blissfully silenced when I had been fully preoccupied with performing CPR on the crashing Seeker, though thankfully Charles had the good sense to bring Val's broom to us. Without responding to his inquiry of my broom, I had indicated with a free hand during the reccesitation towards the ashwood broom that groaned as harsh winds battered it to and fro from its resting place between a pair of gnarled roots.

Just as I had been about to follow up my last few compressions, my heart sinking as I realized that this crash may have been too much, that maybe there wouldn't be a way to bring Valetin back in time, a pale hand shot past my face in my periphery, the signature telltales of life beginning to struggle for dominance over whatever would try to quench it.

My Muggle methods... They had worked...?

"Val...? It's me, it's me!" My breathing quicken and I quash the urge to immediately wrap both arms around him in a hug that would have surely crushed what remaining life was in him.

"N-Never..."

"N-never? Never what? Val, I_uff!"

Valetin suddenly jerks upwards, an attempt to wrap his less harmed arm around me as the lightning-blessed one falls back, unable to find purchase. In a feat of strength, Valetin lifts himself to me, pressing himself to me as his chin rests on my shoulder. I can feel his frantic heartbeat, struggling still against the whiplashes of life and death; strangely enough, it keeps almost parallel pace with my own. Not out of the woods yet. Still vulnerable. Still need a way out, even as he seems to murmur in my ear.

"I'm going with you. Please."

One arm gently returns the hold, delicate, nervous, as if my touch could shatter him further than it already had his back... Yes... That had been my fault; my fault for causing more harm in favor of immediate preventative care. I turn my face to his ear, feeling duckfluff white-blonde hair tickle my nose in return. "We are getting out of here, don't worry. You are going to be fine. You are going to be alright... I swear it."

He begins to collapse again, hacking as vermilion leaves his lips. Internal bleeding. We need to leave. We need immediate assistance beyond my capabilities.

I let him down, let his body do what feels natural. It will take care of itself for a short while while we prepare to evacuate. Glancing over to Charles to check his progress, I turn my wand in my hands, glancing up at the storm every now and again. I can't stop thinking about how wild it is, how much stronger it is than any of us.

I turn the wand back at my cloak one more time. One more burst of warmth, just in case. Just for comfort's sake. I need to be able to feel my fingers again. Bracing my back to the wind to shield Valetin, and keeling my gaze firmly fixed on him not terribly unlike a mother animal keeping her cub, I flourish my wand with a quiet incantation. "Aer Calidus."

WDC 8, d20(18)+8: 26 (Success)

Another stream of warm air heats my cloak, and with careful hands, I replace it over Valetin, keeping my hands on an outer fold to keep them warm. As soon as I get my Moontrimmer, I can safely fly Valetin back.

"I'll take Val on my broom. You fly the Arrow." I think my words over, realizing how authoritatively I am giving orders. It doesn't feel good, letting Val's broom be ridden by another... But Charles is a teammate... And this is a tactical play. "I trust your flying skills. Don't be reckless. Don't make me regret this."

Stats:
Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 13 | Accuracy 12 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 0

Abilities:
Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist | Martial Artist

Old blood expelled from his body, Valentin’s lungs surged with ample oxygen at last. A headrush kept the battered seeker down, reeling as Romeo blasted his scarlet cloak with warmth. When the russet-haired boy laid it down, however, his frostbitten hand glanced across Valentin’s bare clavicles. Shocked into stark realization, Valentin attempted to rise again, but beneath the weight of the heavy coverings his muscles shook uncontrollably and ignored his command [d20:2+2=4].

Furious at his self-inflicted weakness, Valentin’s distinctive thin nose flared as his eyes widened behind their blindfold. He had brought this upon Romeo, freezing him and Charles out in the remorseless storm. Valentin’s recklessness, his self-absorbed drama, his arrogance-- this was all his fault, endangering the boys who now risked their lives to save his. Unacceptable. Death was real, and it could take any or all of them suddenly with a mere shift of wind in the canopy. It was one thing to play quidditch with professional healers at the ready, but what was the point in this? What had he hoped to gain by tempting the thundercloud?

Valentin’s limber musician’s fingers coiled around the coverings’ edge and pulled them to the side to expose his bare white chest to the cold. The boy summoned every drop of his remaining strength to grasp Romeo by the shoulders with both arms and pull him down onto him, leveraging his body weight together with gravity as he had practiced in quidditch grappling. He then pulled the two garments back to cover them both while wincing through the pain. Valentin just couldn’t take it anymore. He could never be the same after this.

«Никогда. Я тебя тоже никогда не отпущу.» (“Never. I’m never letting you go, either.”)

If Valentin was going to steal Romeo’s warmth, he decided, the other boy would just have to take Valentin’s back as well, however meager or however strong. Furthermore, the life Romeo breathed back into Valentin, he would repay ten thousandfold, even if he had to discover the recipe to immortality itself.

While he had been unconscious the majority of the time Charles was helping, Valentin was an extremely perceptive boy. [t!dice 1d20:3+15=18] The blonde chaser must have also had a hand in saving him; the jacket was clearly Charles's and Valentin would be sure to take care of him, in turn. These were his people, and the seeker would have to change the way he had been living. Valentin would have to study harder, train relentlessly, and take better care of himself in order to care for them the way they deserved.

«Ромео прав. Пожалуйста, возьми мою метлу.» (“Romeo is right. Please take my broom,”) said the white seeker with confidence in Charles. Valentin couldn't see the bristles of the broom still smoking from its electrocution.

As Valentin turned his head, a cascade of his soft hair brushed as lofty as fine fur across Romeo’s face. Again he could feel heartbeats and, not knowing whose was whose, Valentin was happy.

Abilities: Keen Eye, Evasive Maneuvers, Charmer... and now, Fearless.
Stats: STA 8 ★ EVA 10 ★ STR 2 ★ WIS 15 ★ ARC 1 ★ ACC 11
Romeo Marchonné - @Piérre Marchonné
Charles Alluring - @Henry Knight
Feel free to have Valya fail his attempt. Obnoxiously strong martial artist vs. a niffler with a broken back... Yeah, there's only one way it would work.

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint scar on left eye | | Mangled right ear |

Valetin Schnell & Charles Alluring
@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood & @Henry Knight

"There." I let myself smile a bit as I continued to keep Val warm. As for as little as I could do, I feel satisfied with the fruits of my effort. Though, I do glare at Charles for yet another rude remark on my spellmanship. Hasn't he anything better to worry himself over? Valetin had nearly died and here he was, with almost a squirrel's attention span, placing a criticism of my spellwork's efficiency over the direct need to ensure Valetin's health.

On top of that, I wasn't that bad at casting spells. I understood them, their origins, etymology, and the art of spellcraft very well... I think I just worry too much about how well it would turn out or if I'd be able to use it correctly.

Regardless of snide remarks and petty banter, the medevac seemed to be progressing smoothly and efficiently, even if a small headache was beginning to make itself known in my temples from the consistent and determined effort of making decisions and trying to use my best judgement no matter the circumstance. I was exhausted, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take; mentally or emotionally for the time being. Things were being thrown at me from all directions all at once and in such short notice... And I was frightened that I wouldn't be able to run with it when the blade finally hit the grindstone and sparks would begin to fly.

Even as soon as I felt myself slipping from lucidity, a small fog forming in my mind's eye as I squeeze my eyes shut to force the small throbbing to a dull pulse, I feel the hands of Val take me by my shoulders, pulling me to the ground alongside him and covering us both with my cloak. I open my eyes widely at the sudden movement, inhaling sharply at the reckless movement before silencing the thoughts as they came. This small reprieve from the early dawn drama.

Valetin's soft words, so simple... Not terribly unlike how self-assured and upfront I was when stating intents or actions. I didn't sugarcoat. I didn't lie or trick others. I said things as they were, as I knew that they should be.

And I didn't want to let him go either.

"Nothing will hurt you as long as I'm around to make sure of it." I reply to him at last; a very very similar promise as I had made to another years and years ago, taking his hands in my bruised ones and twining my broad, hard fingers in his lithe, soft ones accustomed to his sport of seeking.

Because I was scared that if I did let go... He would slip through my fingers like the others I had been too weak to support. That I had not been good enough for. Piérre, Hanzo, the other members of my teams both Quidditch and Broom Racing. Were they people that I had just scared off, or had they been intimidated by how I held myself so boldly and self-assured, a picture of Durmstrang pride and grooming?

It strikes me now that besides than our childhood home and Maddie's vigilant care, I've spent more time here at Durmstrang more than anywhere else. It had been my fault, the constant moving. I remembered every sit down in the principal's office when I had been a holy mess of torn collar, bloodied face, and ripped out hair, bearing a split lip, bruises, and the occasional black eye. How I had always looked down at the ground without speaking or defending myself, my hands on my knees and my back straight against the chair.

I hurt people as a child. Badly. My words couldn't negotiate back then, so my fists did it instead. Especially with Piérre to think about, my twin that was teased and played off "friendship" after false friendship by kids trying to get legs up in their cliques or inner circles. I saw these developments into toxicity with curiosity and guilt. I wanted so badly for him to make friends. I wanted so badly to believe that maybe something would have changed from school to school...

But every time, when Piérre called for me or found himself getting ganged up on... When other people started the fights.

I ended them. Ruthlessly and efficiently.

I became the bigger person, if in muscle only.

Though I had finally learned not to lash out at a slight bruising of ego... I still possessed an unstoppable boiling of tumultuous anger that roiled and thrashed on the inside, something that couldn't be alleviated by books and the distraction of sports. I needed to understand. My worst obsession; that need to understand myself and others. Why they did what they did, why they acted the way they acted

But I couldn't explain anything that had happened here up to this point; the extent of my will to defend, the unbeatable opponent in the shape of a storm, and the assistance of another that would, under regular circumstance, have been an individual that I would have expected to be hindering as opposed to helping me.

Now he has Val's broom, apparently ready to take flight, but not before Val and I are safely perched and ready to head to the castle ourselves.

I share my warmth with Valetin a bit longer, almost not wanting to leave the comfort of the heated blanket of a cloak, his light hair tickling my face as I gently release his hands and tuck the cloak as far under him as possible without disturbing his laying position.

"Wingardium Leviosa." I incant (WDC 9, 1d20(15)+8= 23) at my cloak, raising Valetin a few feet off the ground as the cloak was wrapped about him like a cocoon.

With Val safely in the air, I take the moment to dart after my broom, snagging it in one hand and throwing it into the air before me as I run back. (2 rounds of concentration, 23 initial, 22... 10 failure [13 DC]). Even as I feel the arcane energy sputtering out, my foot catches on a root and I snag my broom in one hand, barely catching my fall and swinging myself onto it with little grace but just enough will to keep my momentum.

With the help of Charles, Val is softly laid across my lap as I elected to ride what one would consider an equivalent to an English Sidesaddle. I'm not going to be flying in a setting of Quidditch in this position, but I care more about safety than anything else.

It will be a long, slow ride back, but that could allow Charles to make preparations for our landing directly in the Hospital Wing.

I express this concern with Charles as I try to secure the cloak to me like a makeshift sling behind my back by the clasp, partly using gravity and partly using the tensile strength of the cloak itself to secure the precious Niffler and ensure that he would not fall. "I'll be slower to make sure that we get back safely. Make sure that Hospital Wing is ready for us when we get there."

Tightening my steering hand's (right) grip on the ashwood handle of the broom, I let myself let out a deep sigh before looking up at the storm. If I timed this right... I could stay above the treeline. If I was lucky, I may be able to get above the clouds and circumvent the storm altogether...

"I could stay by the treeline... Or I could fly into the eye." I murmur in English, trying to scope the best way out of here.

A flash of lightning dashes that latter thought. No way am I playing a high risk for high reward. It simply isn't worth the potential losses.

On the other hand, the branches have mostly stopped creaking overhead. There could be an opportunity to weave through the low treeline and use the natural barrier of trees to protect us from the worst of wind, rain, and lightning. The higher we flew... The more likely we were to be struck.

Again.

"I'll be sticking to the treeline." I state. "The trees and the branches can protect us from the worst of the storm. Risk a higher route if you want, but I don't suggest it." I begin to fly slowly and towards the small gap in the canopy overhead. "It looks like Stribolg's going to be playing all day today."

I hug to the treetops, scraping my feet at the crests of the trees...

And we slowly, carefully make our way back, with me shielding our delicate Seeker from the worst of rain and wind. It's the least I can do.

It's all I can do.

Until I'm better able to prevent it for next time.

Stats:

Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 7 | Strength 13 Ω
Ω Accuracy 12 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist | Martial Artist Ω

"And I thought I was bad at magic but that… was truly terrible, down right awful. Remind me never to cheat off of you in classes," lashed out Charles. Valentin lay there listening, taking in the information. He didn’t remember relations between the boys being so bad back when they were on the same team. Romeo, for his part, didn’t take the bait: he had other priorities at the moment.

Once the glancing ice of Romeo’s fingers singed through Valentin’s mind, the seeker pulled Romeo down alongside him to cover them both. It hurt, yes. Hurt like hell, but Valentin couldn’t take it anymore, damn the pain. He couldn’t let Romeo get destroyed like this. I can hang on a bit, just… give him a moment to gather some warmth. However meager the results may have been in restoring the other boy’s heat, the gesture was, at its core, communication. Valentin was not going to accept Romeo losing his fingers over this, let alone a worse outcome. The seeker knew that Charles was also at risk, so they couldn’t stay long.

Romeo didn’t make it difficult for Valentin to bring him into the shield of warm fabrics and fur. With relief, Valya took a moment to breathe and stifle his shaking arm against the ground, pushing back against his near-death exertion. It was good that his grappling hadn’t landed the giant of a boy against Valentin’s cracked ribs, instead transitioning into a small moment of peaceful rest side-by-side.

"Nothing will hurt you as long as I'm around to make sure of it," said Romeo. Through the darkness in Valentin’s sight, pure white illumination flooded in as the seeker’s hands lifted off into Romeo’s grasp. The boy’s broad, hardened fingers sent a shiver through Valentin with their frostbitten chill as they interlaced with his own. Valya’s little nose flared briefly. How was it that everything felt so much realer now, he wondered. It wasn’t just the adrenaline. Valentin knew that feeling all too well, the heightened alertness he revelled in during his aerial stunts. This felt more like a… phase transition. It was like a gravity well had shifted from one state to another, and now everything around him felt as if it were humming. Embracing the feeling, Valentin’s lips parted and breathed in a lungful of frosty air. The smells of everything around him burned into his brain, and an untrammeled instinct squeezed Valentin’s hands into Romeo’s.

Stillness overtook the tree canopy as the winds ceased. The eye of the storm was closing in: a brief window of opportunity to assert change without having to wrestle with atmospheric forces that were greater than all of them. Tightness passing through Valentin’s throat, he stopped to consider his vector. If he let this moment fully into his heart, it might become a part of him. If he let someone fully into his heart, he might just stay forever. Little Valya was not infinite. He was no god. What choices he made with his bit of leverage on the world were the only ones he got, and it would remain so, even if Valentin were immortal. For as chaotic as Valentin’s golden snidget heart was, for as fast as the comet of his attention passed by the bodies of the universe, the boy was prone to getting locked into a stubborn orbit no matter how far his journey took him away from his focal point. With great speed came great momentum, however small the boy was in this universe. Why was he heading this way? Should he try to divert his course? With the reclaimed warmth feeding from Valentin’s hands back into Romeo’s, the seeker only had so much to give. His crash showed Valentin to be fragile, susceptible to smashing under pressure no matter how strong he tried to be on behalf of his people. Even a comet would eventually sublimate itself completely away in the heat of a sun. Shivering, Valentin felt Romeo’s hands pulling away. Should he struggle? If they let go, what direction would the boys spiral off into?

The warmth of a resolution coalesced into Valentin’s chest. He didn’t want to just be his own little will anymore. Let Romeo happen as he would, he decided, mind growing fuzzy under a wave of fatigue. Valentin let go. This was the only way for them not to be alone in isolation, however close they might be physically at any given time.

The chill flooded in swiftly as Romeo pulled away, even as he tucked his cloak in tightly around the broken seeker. There was simply no comparison in warmth between even the most luxuriously furred cloth and a living boy. Giving himself over completely to the moment, Valentin lay still as Romeo levitated him.

Charles began to cast a new bandaging charm to renew and reinforce the supports around Valentin’s belly wound. [d20 : 13] + 4 =17 > 10, success His spell executed without difficulty, and Valentin lay completely still as the bandages streamed around him. With Valentin’s largest wound stabilized for the voyage to come, Romeo finished wrapping Valentin him up in folds of textile textures. Jostled only slightly as Valentin was, a sick whimper emanated from the bundle as Valentin’s attention returned to the various colors of pain streaking across his body.

The sound of Romeo’s feet dashing away washed out like the inhalation of a tide. Valentin’s head grew fuzzy as he felt the aftereffects of blood loss leeching away his awareness. For the first time in ages, a pang of hunger struck in Valentin’s stomach. Oh, I am very thirsty… he thought hazily. Even through the waxing fog, however, Valentin still heard Romeo trip as the boy boy swung himself onto his broom. Valentin couldn’t move at all, weak as a liquid within the cocoon of the cloak. Charles’s coat lay on the ground, beyond Valentin’s perception.

Charles helped Romeo to slide the bundled-up boy across his lap as Romeo sat on his Moontrimmer sidesaddle. Valentin’s head sloshed to the side and a mass of fur covered his ears, muffling the sounds around him into near silence. Charles then pointed his wand at Romeo and Valentin to attempt another round of the bandaging charm. [d20 : 6] + 4 =10 = 10 The strange angle and any movement made by Romeo would make the execution of Charles’s next attempted Ferula more difficult, and he barely managed to shoot out long enough bandages to tie Valentin’s body onto Romeo’s. With an unquellable groan, Valentin winced as the bandage squeezed tightly against two of his broken ribs, but he remained still nonetheless, entrusting himself into the boys’ care.

Romeo wasn’t about to stay any longer while the opportunity presented by the passing storm’s eye was still available. Climbing on the Moontrimmer up to the treetops with Valentin strung onto his lap, Romeo flew off towards the castle, away from the peace that had overcome the pier.

A violent crosswind was the first challenge for the pair. While the Moontrimmer was in fine condition to serve Romeo’s cause, it was not in its ideal high-atmosphere environment. Crosswind severity: [d20 : 15] … Moontrimmer autoevade, roll 10 to succeed: [d10 : 8]

The wind came on with sudden force, but Romeo’s reflexes were still fast from experiences from quidditch and broom racing. [d20 : 15] + 7 = 22 > 15 Not wanting to crash into the trees below, Romeo had to pull up to avoid the brunt of the crosswind. While their diversion from the treetops risked aggravating a strike from the dark clouds around them, it seemed that Stribog had a softness for Romeo’s heroism. Romeo regained a controllable angle of his broom and continue towards the castle undaunted. The boy was smart enough to know not to fight the turbulence of that stream of air pressing over the tree branches at that moment. Even the rain let up for a bit, until Romeo reached a curtain of downpouring sleet only 150 meters away from the castle gates.

While the sleet struck icy against Romeo’s skin with the added blade of windchill, the force of its impact was minor [d20 : 6] compared to the control of Romeo’s broom in his strong hands. It was clear that Romeo could not fly at this elevation indefinitely, however, if he was to make it inside the castle… which at this moment was the storm god’s favorite chewtoy.


For all the gentleness the storm had shown the pair until now, it seemed to have been coalescing its true might directly atop Durmstrang’s castle. As if attacking the structure in rage at its boldness for asserting itself onto the natural landscape, the thundercloud that had struck Valentin now unleashed its full power onto the castle itself.

As Romeo neared his final destination with Valentin strapped to his lap, there was no way to avoid taking on the storm if he was to take Valentin to the hospital.

If Romeo continued on, the storm’s wrath would confront the two head-on. No less than 9 arms of lightning struck around the castle from the storm manifesting the apex of its powers.

[Option A:]
Romeo did not have to fly directly at the castle, however, writhing as it was under probably the most massive demonstration of electricity he had ever seen.

[Option B:]
Would Charles brave the storm on Valentin’s still-smoking Silver Arrow? Where would he go, and what would he find there?

@Henry Knight @Piérre Marchonné
Romeo is welcome to choose any outcome.

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint scar on left eye | | Mangled right ear |

Valetin Schnell & Charles Alluring
@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood & @Henry Knight

More security from Charles' bandages was greatly appreciated. We needes as much tensile strength as humanly possible if I was going to have even the faintest chance of getting us both back to the castle in once piece with Valetin in the condition that he was. If we had been in Quidditch, he would have at least been able to perch himself behind me and gain a sturdy grip for himself either on the broom or myself. With him incapacitated, a whole new level of complexity had been blended into the brew, but a brew that had to be downed nonetheless, no matter how bitter or unpleasant it was.

With the last bandages secure, I am already in the canopy, leaving Charlie behind with the generalized hope that he will do as I asked him to snd make ready for our arrival and immediate transition to emergency care.

Staying low to the treeline kept me safe from the worst of the early rain and sleet, though a particularly nasty crosswind tried to buck me off my course. Angling my Moontrimmer into the wind and upwards, I spiral into the sky on a freak updraft, drawing dangerously close to the angry nimbuses overhead. Glancing down at Valetin now and again, I blink away water and the smattering of hail and wind that too through my now once again wet clothes. Each piece of ice stings briefly against me, almost like a chastising slap on the wrist from a displeased teacher, but I push on, spitting out the hail that manages to hit my lips and shaking my head to both clear my senses and shake ice out of my hair.

For the time being, Stribolg was quiet. Had it been frightened of my outburst earlier and been inspired to leave me in peace for a while? Was it impressed that I had dared defy it?

Or had it been planning a larger, more vengeful strike against Val and I?

Thunder rattles in my chest as I behold the castle of Durmstrang weather in lilac electricity and argent light. The stone of it appears slick and black, a picture of onyx against the wild landscape torn by mach speed winds and wailing whistles of air passing through trees. My breath quickens as I try to weigh my options while hurtling towards the deadly fray. I can't afford to slow down.

If I keep going forward, I could reach the castle quicker at the risk of the storm's wrath. If I turned away, precious time and blood would be lost. Both ways, Valetin was at risk. One way I was in danger.

But if I put myself in danger, I had a better chance of getting Val to safety instead of letting time whittle away at what little strength that both of us had left.

Setting myself in determination, I lean into my Moontrimmer, rocketing towards the picture of lightning and wind, aiming for the castle, any part of the castle that could offer safety to us all.

I suppose I had been sorted Gryffindor at the Hogwarts School of Magic for a reason.

That thought bounced around in my head as I played with fate itself, dancing with the wind like a leaf caught in a storm's whim. We kept drawing closer and closer, the thrill in my blood rising. We were going to make it. We were going to make it!

Valetin began to convulse beside me, and with instinctual reaction, I divert my attention to him. Oh god. Not an arrest! He wouldn't be able to take much more of this. I had to get there, I had to make it!

Beneath my hand, my Moontrimmer jerked towards the right. Without thinking, I correct it subconsciously with a firm jerk back to the left, thinking that it had been the wind that had tried to yank me off course.

Too late did I sense a flash of white that registered in the corner of my sights.

I had just enough time to look skyward as a sythe of blue slashed itself through the skies, reflecting itself in my eyes as pupils dilated with sudden recognition of the reality that was crashing down upon me. Rain and sleet continued to fall in their slow beauteous fragments of diamond and quartz as my left hand grasps the ahswood of my Moontrimmer and my right extends as if to shade my eyes from the blinding light. In reality, my fingers curl as if to try and catch the blazing bolt and hurl it back at Zeus, my mouth opening in my second cry of the night against the wrath of God. I had fought this far this long... How dare Stribolg strike me down now!

My world sings white.

| Ω |

Charles Alluring, pulling himself together after having an impromptu crash landing in the Quidditch Pitch would bravely attempt to find the two individuals that he hoped to have beaten them to the castle.

The finding of Romeo's Moontrimmer would attest that he had been the last to arrive to the scene... And what a poor shape the dear broom was in too; bearing intense patterns of lightning upon its handle all the way to its bristles, which seemed to crackle with their own electricity. Against the darker ash, distinguishable black strokes of lightning made themselves clear as charcoal fingers seeming to grasp the wood of its own accord. Those marks were there to stay. The wood itself was punished from the fall as well, as pieces of it splintered outwards where the hand would have grasped the handle and buckled where a rider would have sat. Still... It was in one piece, miraculously.

Charlie would find both riders of this mangled broom on the castle grounds not far from the Moontrimmer at the end of a long skid mark of dirt. Valya was being held between Romeo's crossed arms, pressed to his chest tightly so as to not let any harm come from him in the crash. The muscular Italian bore marks of his fall in the form of angry red blotches slowly turning purple on his shoulders, back, and back of his legs. His breath was hollow and whispered, as if unable to breathe in enough for bodily comfort, though exhaling seemed to be of no issue (classic symptoms of having the air knocked out of someone). His eyes, wide open but unfocused, seemed to shake their pupils as they dilated large and small rapidly; textbook symptoms of a concussion. Nothing appeared to be damaged about his eyes themselves. It was instead the fact that no matter how hard Charles might try to catch the Jötunn's attention by means of words or actions, Romeo was entirely Unresponsive, but Conscious.

Romeo's arms were tensed up and rigid, and it would not take long to spot the culprit; a raging scarlet lightning strike scar that began between his right index and middle finger and curled its way into being unseen beneath his white, sopping undershirt. Evidently the freak burst of electricity had frozen him solid like a natural petrification charm, all neurons firing in an electrical overload that made him stiff as a board... Though likely nowhere near as light as a feather.

Stats:

Ω Stamina 426/900 | Evasion 7 | Strength 13 Ω
Ω Accuracy 12 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist | Martial Artist Ω

Trigger warning: vivid near-death physical descriptions

Violent convulsions twisted Valentin in place within his cocoon of garments and bandages. One long arm squirmed out through a gap and clawed the air, failing to reach anything but void and sleet. Choking and gurgling accompanied the rapid throwback of his head while his back arched in the jagged throes of dying. The Moontrimmer jerked to the right, but Romeo pulled its handle back to assert control just in time to bathe in the flood of white lightning consuming them at 150,000 m/s (335,540 mph).

As the stepped leader bolt fed 300 million volts into Romeo’s curving fingers, the electricity coiled over his right arm and down his back until it finally exited into the boy curled around his lap. While the bolt itself was only 2cm wide as it wove through them, its blinding corona sprawled a meter in every direction. Valentin shook as the bolt entered at the base of his spine and spiralled over the front of his hip, circling around his left leg like a serpent and into his bare toes before channeling through the broom and finally departing for the earth.

Miraculously, the protective coverings around Valya sustained only minor scorching while their now drenched condition ensured that they would not ignite. However, the bandages and the cloak’s wrap job tore under Valentin’s near-death flailing. The howling winds whipped at the loosening cloth as they crashed, finally ripping the cloak and Charles’s coat off and casting the garments into the unknown. With the bandages sundered into the dark below as well, Valentin began to slip from Romeo’s lap. As stunned as the Jötunn may have been, however, he still felt the inclement angle of the crash pulling the seeker off of him. Romeo reached out, but with the stinging sleet in his eyes, he could not see well enough to avoid grasping Valentin directly by his stomach wound thanks, Tatsu . The bandages at his stomach had also sustained severe damage from Valentin’s contortions [d100 : 87] and hung loosely about his exposed innards, warm and wet in Romeo’s blind grasp. Yet, Romeo’s grip was the only thing keeping Valentin on the broom, and his desperate action proved to be Valentin’s saving grace. Romeo hauled the lightweight back up to his chest, where he locked Valentin in place with tightly crossed arms. Within moments, their broom struck dirt.

The leading tip of the Moontrimmer hit first, grinding across several meters of grit-laden soil until striking a rock and throwing its riders off in a forward cartwheel onto Romeo’s back. Valentin’s bodyweight crushed into the other boy on impact, exacerbating the damage of Romeo's landing.

Valentin’s eyes shot open, their blindfold stripped away during the crash, only to find himself still surrounded by total blackness. At least the Reaper was gone now. Valya could feel a body again, holding him tight against a broad chest. Romeo. He hadn’t let go. Finding his own arms wrapped around the boy’s neck, Valentin discovered that he hadn’t let go either, even as the backs of his delicate hands scraped against the gnarled surface of the grounds. Valya’s lips contracted in a battered half-smile: while Romeo took most of the damage from the crash, at least Valentin had protected the other’s neck. The seeker could not see the other boy’s eyes, bruises, nor would-be scars, but he could feel the shallowness of breath struggling in Romeo’s ribcage.

Valentin tried to move off to the side in order to get his weight off Romeo’s lungs, but he found the other boy’s massive arms frozen rigidly in place. The best the seeker could do was wiggle his lower half off to the side to give space for Romeo’s diaphragm, while his top half stayed locked in place.

«Эй... Эй Медвежонок… С тобой все в порядке?» “Hey... Hey, bear cub [Medvezhonok]… Are you okay?” whispered Valentin, his voice as gravelly as his forearms. Romeo gave no reply, completely unresponsive. «Эй... Эй…»“Hey... Hey…” insisted Valentin to no effect. Trying to twist upwards through Romeo’s arms, Valentin failed. So tightly bound in his weakened state and still paralyzed in his legs from when Romeo first plucked him off the pier, Valentin did the only thing he could: rub the top of his head against the other boy’s jaw. «Ой! Ромео!» “Oi! Romeo!” Fear shook the tenor of Valentin's cry, even as he tried to swallow it down. «Не уходи. Ты не можешь пойти!! Ромео!» “Don’t go. You can’t go!! Romeo!” Valentin wanted to sob, wanted to scream, but instead he jammed his little nose into Romeo’s neck and crushed his white-lash eyes shut as tight as he could. He had to take control of the situation. At times like these, he needed to summon strength from his deepest reserves. Taking a deep breath in, Valentin took stock of his surroundings to focus. Romeo was unresponsive, struggling to breathe. He probably had the wind knocked out of him, but he wasn’t dead… not yet. Valentin envisioned what he himself did in quidditch when he got knocked down and had to force his diaphragm to cooperate. Angling his lips towards Romeo’s ear, Valya calmed his own breathing and eased silver words through his hoarse throat.

«Ромео, мне нужно, чтобы ты дышал. Попробуй вытянуть спину дугой. Сделай пару коротких вдохов, а затем два длинных. Все будет хорошо.» “Romeo, I need you to breathe. Try arching your back. Take a couple of short breaths and then two long ones. It’s going to be okay.” Valentin laid his face across the boy’s clavicles and closed his eyes. «Я с тобой. Мы будем в порядке.» “I’m with you. We’re going to be okay.” Tendrils of Valentin’s wet hair slid along Romeo’s neck as the seeker stretched his neck out and bumped his nose against the boy’s jaw in affection.

The slopping sound of running against muddy slush drew Valentin’s attention to the side. Charles’s characteristic cadence resonated through the seeker’s memories of endurance training for quidditch-- those days that felt so heavy then, but now struck him as almost idyllic, if remote. It didn’t feel like Valentin’s own memory anymore, but more like one implanted in his head by some unseen puppetmaster.

Abilities: Keen Eye, Evasive Maneuvers, Charmer
Stats: STA 8 ★ EVA 10 ★ STR 2 ★ WIS 15 ★ ARC 1 ★ ACC 11
@Piérre Marchonné @Henry Knight

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint scar on left eye | | Mangled right ear |

Valetin Schnell & Charles Alluring
@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood & @Henry Knight

The crash had been brutal, and though I had vaguely felt a cold, damp, sticky hand slip behind my neck to prevent me from breaking it on an awkward contact. After rolling gracelessly, letting myself take the bulk of the pain, the sensation of total rigidness locking me down and into a stupor of total senselessness as the world seems to move around me instead of I within it.

Feeling my breath catching and rattling instead of being smooth and effortless, I try to move, to twitch, to shift or otherwise pick myself off the ground, but to no avail as both my body and my muscles lock up in response to the feeble request. Blinking a few times to try and rid the rain from my eyes, I barely register a blur of movement climbing up the hillside towards us, as Valetin begins to stir in my protectively crossed and lightning locked arms. He barely pushes against me, and despite myself I feel shivers as half of my mind fights to assert control, and the other half remains unresponsive. My jaw is clenched so hard that it hurts my teeth, and Valetin's sopping hair is cold and damp against my jawline as he whispers for me. Whispers become pleas, become cries, as he presses into my neck and I fight harder to breathe. I had to get up, to respond, to breathe, to get us all to safety. How much time did Valetin have left?

Valetin tells me to breathe slowly, to take two small breaths and two long ones... arch my back...

"I'm with you. We are going to be okay."

'We're going to be okay, Piérre. It's just a new house.

It's just a new school.

I have to go! All you have to do is write...'

I had to move to breathe. To fight another day. To take another step forward.

With a sharp exhale, I force myself to fight the bonds of my own muscle in order to arch my back and breathe sharply twice and try to force my diaphragm to relaxed enough to breathe deeply again. Through sporadic repeating of this process, I manage to choke out words to Charles and Valetin again."Wind... Knocked out... I'll be... fine. Valetin..." I manage, trying to force feeling back into my fingers and arms again. Streaks of pain flicker in the back of my mind as the minor injuries wash over me again, causing me to flinch once or twice more before trying to compartmentalize and focus again. "Looks like... I don't... die today, huh? Not going anywhere... yet..." I try to force positivity into my voice as I feel myself beginning to shiver again from both remnant electricity, response to shock, and a new wave of cold.

The mediwizards of Durmstrang would be able to patch us up in no time. I just had to find a way to get there successfully.

Gradually, my grip on Schnell would loosen, enough for my hands to fall away and let him be taken by Charlie. "Take Schnell, he's hurt more. I'll bring up the rear." I finally express firmly, squeezing Valetin's shoulder once before closing my eyes and taking a few more deep breaths of frozen air. "I'll be okay for a few more seconds. Just need to catch my breath... where..." I glance around, looking for my trusty Moontrimmer. "Where is my broom...? You can use it to take Val..." My words fade away as I catch sight of the pale ash wood a few feet away from us, all battered and broken up. Maddie's gift to me and my twin... now barely hanging on by a thread in its usefulness. With a heavy sigh, I let my head rest on the ground fully. Well, so much for that thought.

"Just get him inside. I'll follow." A grimace and a furrowing of my brow before rolling onto my back and away from Val. I look up at the sky for a bit, trying to collect thoughts and perform damage assessments. Back, burning; shoulder and arm, on fire; I can't feel my right hand, face; likely some shallow cuts, left arm; more cuts and bludgeon injuries...

Altogether, I would live. I would be in a world of hurt for a few hours, a few days at max, but I would live.

Charlie would likely begin to assist Valetin, I knew what kind of team player he was at his core. I would indeed start dragging myself off the ground after a few more seconds of gathering willpower and strength, I would drag myself to my knees and take a final, deep breath before staggering to my feet and retrieving my Moontrimmer.

Charred, mildly bloodied, and bruised, I entered the castle of Durmstrang, making a beeline for the Hospital Wing.

Exits Thread?

Stats:

Ω Stamina 426/900 | Evasion 7 | Strength 13 Ω
Ω Accuracy 12 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist | Martial Artist Ω