19 Jul 2022, 16:12
Horntail Horde
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Charles arrived at the camp, trunk pulled behind him. Backpack over his shoulder and Sliver Arrow in hand. The teen walked a bit of the grounds alone, checking into his tent then scanning the field for the Horntail tent. Walking alone, brushing past groups of students gathering with their friends to choose a tent that summer.
Watching the groups gather, laugh among themselves reminded Charles of his own. The international student squad, what they named themselves. He did feel apologetic for not joining their tent but figured there would be other moments for them to spend time together. The only thing is, how would Charles tell them that he would be staying in another tent that summer?
"CHARLES! Come join our tent! Why're you over there?"
The shout. The familiar voice, one that couldn't be replaced nor forgotten. Charles turned and saw behind him. His french best friend. Cassie. The teen decided aginest shouting, taking the few steps to her when he spoke"I can't, Cassie. I already agreed and would rather not have Yefim rein hellfire on me," the blonde was going to mention the hexwizard tournament or Durmstrang champion but decided aginest it. Flashes of the night the champions were choosen now in his mind, the look on Cassie's face when that other Beauxbatons girl was choosen instead of her. He thought best not to bring it up, there are other words to describe Yefim.... right? Well, there was at least another reason why he would share a tent with fellow durmstrangs than his three best friends.... right?
""...who cares about Yefim?" The question from Cassie. Charles fell into step aside her, he couldn't just blurt out the answer... bring up the hexwizard... especially since his friend wasn't the champion nor on a team. The teen instead turned the conversation as he spoke"I wish I could bunk with you and the mates, the blokes from durmstrang are rather dull at times and nothing compared to you," wasn't a lie... not technically. The blonde didn't think anyone could match Cassie's or the rest of the groups energy and bond.
Eyes peeled for the Horntail tent. It was one of the Chaso ones they said? Right? The teen felt his eyes flicker across the sea of fabric and laughter, the unexpected conversation with Cassie has been rather welcoming to relief his nerves and stress for the coming weeks. The teen felr his eyes pass by the tents, for Cassie as he spoke"Honesty, planning to spend as much time with you mates than the tent," A smile toward the girl, he missed this. He missed her.
The teen felt the rush of other past him, the moment with Cass was nice while it lasted but it had to end... he should get to his tent and claim a bunk, not wanting to be left with the last one available. The teen offered a nod toward Cassie followed by a half smile as he spoke, finishing their conversation.
"Tell the others, I'll see them and you at the bbq tonight."
""Ugh. Fine."
"Broom race later as a apology for not being in your tent this summer?"
"Alright. Don't let the bed bugs bite... or do, then come join our tent to get away from them."
"I'll remember that, Cass. Save me spot tonight for the bbq?"
"Will do!"
Charles departed from his best friend, starting his way toward the grounds. Eyes peeled for the horntail tent when suddenly a thought formed in his head, the teen turned back. Smiling as he shouted"wish me luck in hell, Cass!" The teen waiter, unsure if he would even hear a response. His eyes lost the girl to the groups of students shoving and laughing their ways for a tent. The teen stumbled back a bit, stretching his neck. Wondering if she heard him... he started to turn back in the original direction he had been walking alone when suddenly he heard the words paired with the voice of the Beauxbaton.
""Hah - good luck!"
Smiling to himself. The blonde marched on. Eyes scanning the tents, the heat boiling on the back of his neck. He might have lived in England during the holidays but that didn't mean he enjoyed the heat... nor was use to it. The quidditch bootcamp thing was rather welcoming, a short few days of crisp air and non humid temperatures.
The teen spied the tent after a while, walking toward it. The blonde pushed back his blonde hair and allowed his smile to fade away. Taking on the personal he holds for durmstrang, staring the tent down. A part of him not fully believing that he is about to do this.... stay a whole summer among fellow durmstrangs, among a team instead of with his best friends.
The teen exhaled a short breath. Closing the distance as he pushed the tent flap aside. Walking the short hall, eyes catching the bathroom. Reminding himself to be one of the first in the mornings. Pushing aside the second flap, entering the tent as he gazed around at the sapce he will be staying for the next couple of weeks.
A open space. Bunks lined the walls, a series of pillows and blankets thrown across the floor. The flickering embers of the fireplace in the center that Charles questioned.... wasn't that a fire hazard? The numerous weights and workout equipment that Chadles smiled a little at, he doubted he would choose to spend the summer working out instead of with his friends.
His eyes cuaght the durmstrang flag. He felt frozen for a moment, staring at it. Tearing his eyes away, the teen stood near the back. Watching the others for a moment or two.
Valentin and Mikael, the whsipers between the two. Romeo, alone? The blonde wouldn't have expected the lad to be standing alone. Yefim, tending to the fire and cooking? The teen stared, he wouldn't have took the champion for a chief.
Felix. The wannabe goth. Building a pillow fort? Charles took the path besides Felix, walking close to him as he calmly spoke"the punk rocker finally snapped." Was he purposely trying to cause drama? No.... The teen walked across the room, settling on the second bunk. Closest to the wall and darkness. Away from the others.
Setting his trunk at the bottom bunk's side. Bag and broom thrown on top of the bottom bunk. The teen held his hands in his pockets, walking toward a pillar besides the third bunk.
The teen leaned aginest it casually, keeping to himself as he watched the interactions play out in front of him.
Last edited by Henry Knight on 12 Aug 2022, 16:42, edited 1 time in total.
"There's no such thing as strange creatures, only blinked people" - Newt Scamander
21 Jul 2022, 16:53
Horntail Horde
⋖ 01/AUG/2022 @ late afternoon | NORWEGIAN | SWEDISH | RUSSIAN | GERMAN | ENGLISH ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Felix Kolbeck @Valentin Schnell | MENTIONING @Yefim Rumyantsev
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What time was it? It was Summer Camp time! A whole month away from home and back among the foreign lands of the British Isles. It had been enough to bring a gleeful glow to Greta for the remaining days of the school year; and even the first month of summer could only do so much to dull that lustre. Every day had been spent looking forward to the first of August; and the summer camp had practically come early when the lot of them had been shipped off for the militaristic preparatory camp put on by the Sjef*. (*boss)
Barely able to contain herself, Greta had been a bundle of nervous excitement as she waited for her turn to gather the information. A pretty red-head with a smile that hadn't quite met her eyes had handed the Norwegian a programme before ushering her over to the signing table. The decision of a tent had already been made when she saw the host of names common to the Horntail Horde. Without even consideration as to whether or not it would be considered appropriate for a girl to tent with an army of smelly boys, Greta had scribbled her name below the list and made off like a racehorse.
Yet, despite her enthusiasm, she had stalled just in front of the tent, hesitating. She could hear the voices from within, amicable chatter and teasing tones already prevalent even from the other side of the barrier. Teeth chewed at a lip as she listened, fingers wringing at the leather handle of her packing case. Was this really okay? They always seemed nice enough whenever she was around. At least, she had never seen them roll their eyes or sigh disparagingly as though the her presence had aged them three years.
She liked to be around them. They were so... well, there really wasn't any other way to put it other than chaotic. Their tent really was apt in that regard. There was a freedom in their hearts that allowed them to chase their dreams and pursue their whims in a way that made Greta almost envious. It gave her strength in a way. Inspiration to face another day and to let herself consider what she, herself, might like to do one day. But she still couldn't quite shake the feeling like she was just injecting herself into a mixture that was better off without her. It was hard to be seen sometimes, when you spent every day looking up at those around.
She took a deep breath, the air thick with excitement suddenly at odds with how much she didn't feel it. A glance back over her shoulder was given, although she wasn't sure what she was looking for exactly. Courage.. That's what she was supposed to have. Wasn't that what their champion's words had tried to push for? To be fearless? So with that, she moved the case solely to one hand, set her jaw, and moved forward again.
Of course, by the time she had actually leaned over to peak through the door she had pulled to the side just enough to let her eyes creep over from the side, any boldness she had managed to conjure had fled from her face. She would find comfort, though. The sight with which she was met was nothing scary. In fact, it was nothing at all, really, but a little corridor. Tiptoeing forward, she would glance with a lean to glimpse what would apparently be their lavatory. Nice and private. That was good. And then there was another door. Again, she would push this one open, and duck demurely beneath it to take stock of the inside.
If she had to give it a word: primitive. While not quite the same, the first thing that came to mind with the crackling fire at the centre surrounded by pelts, minimalistic bunks, equipment for fitness, and what looked like some sort of throne was cavemen. A hand had to fly up to cover her mouth and stifle the giggle that had started to give her away. It just seemed so.. accurate.
Of course, one of the beds wasn't quite the same. It had been dragged away a little bit from the rest, blankets posted around the bottom bunk as though trying to hide something. Before Greta could inquire, she caught the tail end of a rather rough-around-the-edges Koby (Felix) telling someone off and announcing its purpose. That it was for her. The last thing Greta had expected was any kind of special treatment or consideration from her peers, and she could not deny the overwhelming swell of gratitude that manifested itself as a fluttering feeling that returned every ounce of excitement that had recently been lost to her.
Beaming, Greta galloped up to Felix, throwing her arms around him in a hug (if he would let her), her swinging case battering fully off his thigh. If there hadn't been a foot height difference, she might even have tried to hop to plant a kiss on his cheek. He would be spared that, however, as the girl ran right off again, spinning to exclaim a chipper, "Thank you, Koby!", before ducking into her little personal oasis and tossing her expandable suit case to the foot of the bed. She needed a moment to collect herself, practically overcome with a fit of giggles muffled by the pillow that she had grabbed to pull over her face.
When she had finally calmed, she scooted herself to the edge of her bed and poked her head out from the hanging barricade. Face a glowing tint of rose, she spotted a rather sleepy looking Niffy. Well that wouldn't do. Hopping up, she sprouted to her feet galloped forward, scooping up a rogue pillow as she did. "Nif! No sleeping!" Whap. Down would come the pillow with two hands onto his belly, tantalizingly unprotected in his current state of repose. "We still have a barbakoo to go to!"
Invitation for a pillow fight and a bit of pre-supper horsing around? Maybe.
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@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood @Flash Holmwood @Winnie Harper
25 Jul 2022, 05:20
Horntail Horde
threading as johannes cyprian sauer
group thread with the Horntail Horde
speaking in russian, unless specified otherwise
Oh, hi. Thanks for checking in.
Hogwarts sure did like hosting the other schools. Was it British hospitality or a continued not-so-humble humble brag about their 'wordly connections' in the wizarding world? Of all the random, half-heard rumours Johannes had absorbed about of the British school, there were at least three defining features that directly involved his attention: magical race diversity, concerningly dangerous events, and summer camps.
Not for the first time (and certainly not the last), Johannes had been pulled into the lattermost category of quirky Isle-bound social gatherings. This time, however, he was now in the company of a whole group of people to occupy his Houndless days with instead of pursuing the antisocial emo's dream life. He enjoyed the thrill of travelling and being exposed to new things as much as any good adrenaline junkie but there was something to be hated about the process of getting one's bearings in unfamiliar situations.
Between Quidditch and Hexwizard, both piled on in just a few months, he had been forced into spending more hours with this strange band than he'd ever expected. While Yefim's presence had always been enough to be remembered, his groupies had once never made enough of an impression on Johann's extremely limited scope of focus. If they were mentioned, it was always in vague passing. Their identities had long been lost in the hustle and bustle of Durmstrang's crowd, reduced to the reminder of an accompanying crowd following their self-confident, topless (why was he topless so often?) leader. Somewhere along the line of life, however, Johannes had garnered enough attention to be picked out by their school champion and simultaneously thrust into the quidditch lifestyle.
Sure, he had lost an ear piercing, a decent amount of health and a whole lot of dignity for it all, but to think he hadn't even acknowledged their simple existences not very long ago? He could probably pick some of them out in a crowd from hair colour alone now. Official Champion-led Fear Training™, Quidditch boot camp, Hexwizard preparations and now summer camp..? The extra team-building time only made him more aware of the surreality surrounding the situation. Unsurprisingly, his only constant throughout it all had been Cielle, who had been his unexpected plus-one from the beginning. No doubt there was an alternate universe somewhere where Johannes had stayed ignorant, bound to his own sphere of influence and completely insignificant in the eyes of newfound allies but Johannes had no time to contemplate that matter when he had a tent to find.
In this case, however, there wasn't as much 'finding' as there was simply 'manoeuvring towards' because he didn't necessarily need to look very hard to know where he was meant to go. Across the camp and past throngs of random students, a vibrant, eye-catching depiction of a battlefield stood tall against the blue skies and otherwise simple tents. Well, that was one way to introduce the Hexwizard team to London. Johannes couldn't help but let out an amused huff around his lollipop at the theatrics as he made his way past the crowds, already preparing himself for the crowded month ahead.
The closer he got, the more impressive their tent's outside decor seemed. It was the upgraded version of any flimsy kid tent, except the design was less "polyester with cartoon characters poorly emblazoned all over the outside like Paw Patrol's worst supermarket product placement" and more "interactive museum of arts". Once upon a time many many years ago, Johannes had something similar to one of those mass-produced monstrosities of childhood glamour, but he couldn't remember what it looked like and comparing the fuzzy memories to this felt too much like a disgrace to their artist(s)' talent. Physically shaking off the thought process, he adjusted the weight of his bags, lifted the surprisingly heavy fabric flaps and stepped into what was essentially a wizarding T.A.R.D.I.S.
Upon his arrival, Johannes was immediately hit with the overwhelming impression of 'Yup, that's Durmstrang for you' as he swept past the charmingly little foyer and into the main room. Anyone who thought the outside was bold certainly wouldn't be prepared for the main attraction. With the roaring centrepiece firepit casting everything in a moody tint of flickering orange light, looming shadows seemed to dance ominously across every wall, their figures made into tar-coated giants scaled more significant than life itself and twice as powerful. The proudly hung flag shone more vibrantly than ever in this light, a 'throne'-like seat making all the impression Durmstrang needed from the first glance. Floor pillows lined the fire hazard of the main light source, the common area surrounded by simple bunk beds, workout equipment and dimmed magical lights.
This surely wasn't an Anglo-Saxon mead-hall but with such a setting, Johannes was almost disappointed not to see Yefim cosplaying Beowulf in the full. The great hunk of meat being prepared fit the bill well enough! The taste of artificial cherry currently holding his mouth hostage would not make for a good combination, no matter how much water there was to wash down with. If any of the other occupants of the room were to meet his eye as he admired their temporary home and scoped out a bunk, he would make a brief nod upward in greeting. Their champion would receive a casual two-fingered salute to their champion if applicable. "Now ain't that a cut and a half, cap'n." There was a particular flavour of unapologetic boldness about the school that he doubted could be easily replicated, and the tent's entire aesthetic of 'dramatic medieval fantasy meets home gym bro chic' reflected that.
Temporarily setting his broom bag against the nearby pillar and swinging his things onto his claimed bed, Johannes couldn't care less if the bottom bunk was occupied. In his head, it was like the Durmstrang sleeping system. Inconvenient as his reputation's unstable floor rank was, it had made him somewhat more adaptable rooming with randoms. This bunk was too good of a location to fork over for something as little as sleeping privacy when there was no sleeping privacy in the first place (excluding the DIY curtain set up across the tent). Spying on each other was literally as easy as looking across the circular room.
It wasn't as if his bed was going to be used more than required in the first place considering Johannes's relationship with sleep had always been a bad one, to the point of current acceptance. Backing out from his choice after making it would only be needlessly (and very visibly) second-guessing himself. He couldn't do that, no sir. Any conflict with Johann's new bunkmate would have to get in line behind his ongoing feud with Sandman and deal with it.
(What an unsympathetic thought process to be entertaining at 10 am! No one ever said Johannes was a very good morning person.)
While Johannes had never been able to gain an advantage over sleep's disdain, he hoped they could cop a few extra wins between all the summer camp activities before the fiasco that would be the Hexwizard Tournament in full swing. Baby steps were key, even for the impatient ones. There was conversation to be made, people to start terrorising, intermediary memories to be made, after all! Starting first with his tentmates. The thwap of a pillowy weapon sounded behind him near the firepit, accompanied by the insistent reminders from their resident doll of a girl.
It wasn't that he had forgotten about the annual welcoming barbecue, it was just that he had been deliberately putting it out of his mind. Their day had just started and it would be in bad taste to taint the excitement with his past bad experiences, even if the only person whose day he would be embittering would be his own. "You know, from the looks of things, we might as well have our own barbecue in here." Johannes gravitated towards the firepit, settling down opposite the gathered group and settling back on his hands in a comfortable lounge. Vaguely, he wondered how long it would take for Cielle to make an entrance and take the tent by storm, but he figured that the answer would be 'soon enough' and it wouldn't be long until his thankless job of fixer-upper required another shift. He could take some time to relax right now.
[@Henry Knight, @Flash Holmswood, @Ivy Bellamy & More??]
| astrea neptune . . . hogwarts wizardry. duellist | . . . johannes sauer durmstrang institute. horntail horde. |
29 Jul 2022, 06:32
Horntail Horde
Valentin couldn’t stop staring. Eyes drowsing, first half-closed, three-quarters, then fully… he blinked himself back to wakefulness, only to slip back into the dark, but nothing averted his unbreakable diamond gaze from Romeo even when Val’s eyes fell shut. In the past, Valentin could only be caught entranced so completely when captive to certain stray bars of music wafting through the air-- not even quidditch could make him block out the rest of the universe like this. However many years passed and sharpened his ability to focus, however, the right passage of music could still beguile Valya away like a child to the pied piper. Here, in the Horntail Horde tent, no one could hear the melody now… no one except Valentin.
The seeker’s slender fingers rose in a gesture that climbed and swayed and accentuated to the tune of a composition his mind spun as instinctively as a spider spooling silk. For Val it seemed a forever unfinished piece, but whenever Val’s gaze could afford to latch onto the Italian’s features uninterrupted, the notes tumbled through in swirls of partial success and failure and experimental repetition. He needed to find the right harmonic solution, what note it was that completed the logic, the feeling. Was it a fifth? A third? Why was the phrasing wrong? What did it need? Less? More? Revolving, spiralling, like a fighter jet rolling into an arcing inversion, the seeker searched for the correct expression of everything this music ought to be in its purest, truest form. Valentin needed to find it, the genesis of Romeo’s immortality which this song, in the right key, might unlock.
Each strand of russet hair falling in its particular way, mystifyingly forming a coherent style together, accompanied the blinding flash of welding torch blue darting in and out of sight… Valya’s eyes fluttered shut. He couldn’t find the right note. Why didn’t the melody progress? It was stuck… repeating itself in its instinctive need to climb but faltering with every wrong attempt at completion.
Utterly helpless, Valentin inclined with his belly exposed as a perfect target for a valkyrie’s strike. Ooof! Her blow struck true. Hadn't Greta said something? Buckling under the unexpected blow, Valentin blinked a few times and turned his head even though the syncopating rhythm still tumbled through him.
"We still have a barbakoo to go to!"
Valya swallowed hard. Greta needed him. The captain forced his brain to let go, and finally his silver eyes turned towards his ex-chaser, #19. Nineteen, like the number of angels guarding Hell, nineteen, like the palindrome XIX, a single chaser caught in a Parkin’s Pincer on each side, nineteen… Valentin’s stomach growled. Loud. He didn’t know the last time he’d eaten. There was always so much to do. Barbecue? Valentin hated having to eat. There were ten thousand more interesting things to do. Yet…
RrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrr!! roared Valentin’s belly, provoked both by the shock of Greta’s attack, the unsolicited mention of food, and that blasted carcass Yefim brought in prickling under the heat of the firepit. Why is this necessary, Valentin complained to himself. He hadn’t finished the composition, why should he have to eat now? It was already enough of a waste to have to sleep.
“Och, kleiner Neuntöter,” “Oh, little nine-killer,” spilled Val’s tired mush of Russo-German. It wasn’t even a complete thought. Blinking slowly, Valentin picked up the pillow that had bounced off his stomach. The little bird wanted to play. Come on, Valik, you’re not dead yet.
Val scooped up the red fuzzy projectile beside him and grinned weakly back at Greta. Yeah, let’s go! he smiled. Yeeting the pillow at Greta, however, proved a demonstration of how lackluster his aim could be in a state like this. The valkyrie certainly knew how to dodge, of course, but Valentin’s aim was just as lofty… usually. It totally missed.
Rising to his feet, Valentin looked back at Mikael, feeling like he’d forgotten to say something. It was all too foggy. Batting his white eyelashes three times, Valentin scooped up another red pillow and searched the crowd for a target. Felix. That one looked like he needed more action, and now Valentin had to prove to himself he hadn’t lost his touch. Yeeting the ball of velvet corduroy and tufted stuffing at the Swede, Valentin’s blow struck true against the center of Felix’s back.
“Ha,” laughed Val with the barest hint of melancholy. He tried to scuttle back behind Greta, as if to jokingly pin the blame on her. Silence finally permeating his head again, Valentin looked back at Mikael with more than a hint of desperation. If one looked closely enough at Val’s face, one might recall the familiar expression of a boy in the midst of falling. Misha, his eyes seemed to beg.
Stats: STA 8 ✦ EVA 13 ✧ STR 2 ✦ WIS 15 ✧ARC 1 ✦ ACC 15 - Ency
Abilities: Keen Eye ✦ Charmer ✧ Evasive Maneuvers ✦ Fearless
@Winnie Harper @Piérre Marchonné @Evelynn Decipio @Percival Rainwood
30 Jul 2022, 05:09
Horntail Horde
Mikael's brows furrowed as he watched Valentin turn his gaze towards the entrance of the tent. Seemingly so focused on it that he could not break away his gaze in order to look at him. In order to see him. It reminded him of the figures in his dream so focused on something other than him. The urge to step forward to make himself known. To win back the right to be seen by those around him overcame him. The boy followed the white-haired boy's gaze and quickly found himself frowning deeply.
Mikael could hardly say he knew the boy. Another Durmstrang who was more than likely a Pureblood. Though, the boy's perfect brown hair seemed to speak enough for himself. Romeo seemed to be everything he was not. Even from a distance it was clear the other had a good few inches on him. Tall and social looking. Something Mikael felt he lacked in.
It was rather clear the white-haired seeker found the other memorizing. Did the other sense the security that something like a Romeo could provide. Even the name could possibly drag you in. Romeo and Juliet. Such a sad and bitter tale that was wrapped up in pink cellophane gift wrap. Mikael wondered what was hidden underneath the pink material. What bitterness and sadness lay below a encasing of happiness? Mikael would almost feel intrigued if he wasn't more interested in studying Valentin with a vaguely annoyed look. "You lost your wand?" he asked confusion seeping into his facial expression.
"I have been practicing my spell work as well." he said off handedly before moving his gaze away from the other. Mikael would not lie the weather was far warmer in London than he was used to. Coupled with the now roaring fire he was starting to find his sweater to be a bit too warm. The boy felt his face flush slightly from the heat, but continually refused inwardly to take off his sweater. Mikael glanced towards Valentin slightly as the other spoke before his gaze drifted back across the flames. "We aren't going to fail Niffler. You can rest easy." he muttered his brow furrowing.
Mikael's eyes widened as he watched the fight grow in front of him. It seemed so silly to throw a pillow at someone, but the pair seemed to be enjoying it. His brows furrowed as he shifted in his seat his hand gracing the rough texture of a pillow near his left arm. The look of Valentin's face brought a strange emotion to brew energy depths of his chest. Had he not seen this look before? When he had pulled himself out of the salty waters? He was not drowning now, but maybe he was drowning in another way. A way that only Valentin could see. Mikael's brows furrowed as he brought the pillow up into his arms. Calculating what to do for a few long seconds before throwing the pillow at Valentin.
Interacting with: @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood [Valentin]
Mentions: @Piérre Marchonné [Romeo]
PC: Percival Rainwood
9 Aug 2022, 12:57
Horntail Horde
After getting the hunk of meat set up, Yefim's attention would shift. From then on, he would only need to turn it the appropriate amount of times to get an even cook. Immediately it filled the tent with the smell of meat and the pepper, salt, and dill waking up upon its skin. Yefim would be able to look around the tent better, get a little salute from the arriving Hanya*, hear Romeo get on Fel for his change of hair, and Gresha keep Niffler awake and talk excitedly about a barb-a-koo, whatever that was. He would stand at his station like a soldier on guard duty, but his smile would be warm and proud and he observed without much interaction.
Mik did eventually ask him a question, but it would not take long to answer, [”It is beef, my friend. A megaton of beef. Gotta feed the troops.”]
Niffler, Mik, Hanya, and Gresha had joined him at the center, and most of the Horntails had arrived. Yefim was proud of the team name they had agreed on, it had been Niffler's idea, particularly because of the ferociousness of the Horntail dragon. Yefim was quite fond of the creatures and their untameable nature, and excited to see the name start to strike fear in others as they learned of it. For now though, there was a pillow fight. Yefim would laugh out loud, picking up another one of the pillow and throwing it at Chakhles, the only one of the Horntails he didn't yet trust completely. The part of the team who were all Quidditch players had vouched for him and told Yefim to give him a second chance, but he would have to prove his loyalty and dependability still. Technically Selya** was in the same boat, but Yefim liked her right away.
[”Oh... I found this amazing shiny, Valya.”] Having watched the other put their things away, he started to remember the contents of his own luggage. He had purchased a purple rock that glimmered amazingly at every angle. He had other gifts for others in the tent as well, since his recent fame was paying off similarly to how Niff was always getting chocolate sent at him. [”I think you will love it. Let's see if I can get it without succumbing to enemy fire.”]
Leaving the meat for a moment, Yefim would dash ahead to where his bags were, open from all sides to a surprise pillow attack.
* Hanya is a diminutive for Johannes ** Selya is a diminutive for Cielle
Action: Hit Charles with a pillow
@Percival Rainwood @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood @Winnie Harper @Astrea Soleil Neptune
@Piérre Marchonné @Evelynn Decipio @Ivy Bellamy @Henry Knight
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
11 Aug 2022, 23:28
Horntail Horde
Necklaces:
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▪ FELIX ▪ KOLBECK ▪
▪ DURMSTRANG iNPC ▪ FOURTH YEAR ▪│
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Reducio@Flash Holmwood as Yefim
@Piérre Marchonné as Romeo
@Henry Knight as Charles
@Evelynn Decipio as Greta
@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood as Valetin
"She what?!" Felix sputtered, his head whipping around to stare at the weights again. Merlin, hadn't he been tormented enough during the month of July?! "OH HELL NO--... Yef, you can't be fucking serious--... Come on, it's summer time. No parents and shit. You don't have to listen to that crazy woman or call her 'Lin'." Felix liked Yefim, he was pretty much his only friend at school, but sometimes he drove him to the point of insanity, especially after the goblet had drawn his name. Huffing, the Swede walked over to their leader to try and help him set up. "Shouldn't we practice other things? Like spells or some shit? If we focus solely on physical strength we'll be lacking in other areas."
"Fuck off, Shakespeare." Felix grumbled at Romeo in Swedish, sliding his wand out of his pocket and pointing it towards his own hair. "You know why it looks like this. Crinus Muto." The spell quickly transformed his hair into his usual shade of white.
"Finally, Charming? Are you forgetting I've been crazy since the day I had the misfortune of meeting you?" Felix snapped back at Charles with a sarcastic flutter of his eyelashes.
Greta decided it was a good idea to fling her arms around him. Dammit, why did she have to be adorable? If she were annoying he could have just ignored her. Now he had to protect her and... Sigh. He was fond of the girl, so he leaned down to return his tiny team mate's hug. "I--... You're welcome?" He stuttered, his face a deep red. "Let me know if anyone bothers you." He reached down to affectionately pat her on the head, as he often did with his sisters.
Unfortunately he was affectively distracted and would not see the pillow Val tossed at him coming. It hit him square in the back, "Ow! What the f--..." He turned on his heel just in time to see Val laughing. With a raise of his brow his eyes flickered down to the pillow... and back to Val. A mischievous smirk formed on his lips as he dipped down to retrieve the pillow and aim it towards the white haired trouble maker.
"Step out and face me like a man, Nifty. You're cheating using someone so cute as a shield." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yefim dash away, giving him the perfect opportunity. He would chuck the pillow straight towards their leader, perhaps as a small revenge for all the push ups he had made him do.
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│ │ | │ │ | STA: 10 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 10 • ARC: 8 • ACC: 14 | │ │ | • Perfectionist • Impartial • Fearless • • Evasive Maneuvers • Evasive Maneuvers II • | │ │ | │ │ |
12 Aug 2022, 08:00
Horntail Horde
Valentin looked over at Mik with the eyes of a drowning man. He wanted help, but the thing Val was worst at was asking for what he personally wanted, especially knowing how dangerous his silver tongue could be. Instead, the cerebral jock relied on physical language to communicate his wishes, despite its failure time after time to get him what he needed. Would Misha read him correctly now? Would the voidling of a boy come to save his immortal soul? Mik looked back at white Valya with a vaguely annoyed expression that shifted into one of confusion.
"You lost your wand?"
“Misha…” Val whispered back, potentially inaudibly, as his face revealed a flash of pain, of pleading, like a prisoner silently begging to be let out.
"I have been practicing my spell work as well," continued the lovely shadow, turning his eyes away as his face flushed with heat in the refusal to take off his armor sweater. Val wanted to go over to him, to recover Mik’s gaze, but it drifted on its own back across the flames, skirting along in Valentin’s direction like the arctic sun in winter, riding just below the horizon but never breaking out of the darkness cast by the planet’s surface. "We aren't going to fail Niffler. You can rest easy." Yet, Mik’s eyes still didn’t land on Valentin, and so he hurt. There was no way Misha could save him if Val didn’t reach back in return. Mikael’s words of comfort were too precious a miracle for Valentin to not swim towards him. Valentin opened his mouth to speak, only for Greta’s pillow to ricochet off his belly. The darling little shrike. Val summoned his strength to join her play with a failed effort at retaliation, escalating it further with his projectile for Felix, before diving behind the Valkyrie’s back. The seeker’s silver eyes reached out for Mik again with their plight. For one moment, Valentin envisioned himself back in the library with the boy again. Maybe through a similar rite, could Valentin be saved? He needed something big to happen if his nuclear lodestar wasn’t going to collapse in on itself under its own hyperextended pressure.
Mikael’s face seemed to show some deep inner calculation, and after a long pause, the boy launched a nearby pillow back at Val. Automatically, Valentin’s hands caught the well-aimed projectile. It was like passing a quaffle, back in the old days, back when they were on the same team. Val missed it terribly. The boy’s throat began to close up. They were together now in Hexiwizard, right? How long would that last? Only someone who really knew Mik could have seen how beautiful a gesture it was, how rare for a penumbra to bend back around the curves of the world to greet the light. Val froze, staring back at Mik. Not in adoration, nor with a smile, and not even with the most basic of amusement. No, Valya fell into a state of absolute, undiluted wonder.
“Kaderlem…” It was Val’s turn, now, to stand with his face locked in place as calculations spooled inside his mind. Before the seeker could respond, however, Yefim’s voice broke from across the room.
[”Oh... I found this amazing shiny, Valya. I think you will love it. Let's see if I can get it without succumbing to enemy fire.”]
Eyes growing to the size of sand dollars, Valentin’s heart thumped with excitement. A treasure from Fima? How lucky could he get, first to be graced by his shadow’s attack, and now, with the promise of a *neo-classical* shiny from his dear Fima? “Mmm!” purred the niffler, eager to see what his champion would bring. Then, Valentin could hardly believe his luck when another blessing rained down upon him.
"Step out and face me like a man, Nifty. You're cheating using someone so cute as a shield," resonated Felix’s voice.
Val’s head spun to look at the (now gloriously restored white-haired) rock and roll idol before Valya's eyes clamped down into narrow, grinning slits. Valentin was an absolute sucker for such talk. He was always just waiting for an excuse to rise to a challenge, but... the presence of certain treasured boys in the room whom Val would enjoy impressing made for a perfect spark for the crown fire just waiting to happen.
“Gladly,” rumbled the white seeker. For all the maturity Valentin showed under pressure when others were counting on him, in times of peace he allowed himself to devolve into his natural, base state: a teenage boy hungry for any opportunity to prove his virility. Still, the captain in him had a diehard gentlemanly habit that usually kept him from going too fast. “Just give me a moment, just a moment…”
Turning back to Mikael, Val was not about to forget what had just happened. He wanted to throw his arms around him and laugh. Yet, the render had failed in Valentin’s brain, spitting out half-chewed calculations of how to respond. Val’s hand scratched the back of his head as he tried to retrace his steps, returning to the beginning when he’d failed to answer his kaderlem’s question.
“Well, about the wand… first I set it on fire, on accident, kind of. I didn’t mean to throw it into the brazier, I think. Then I gave it to… Oh, you mean the one before that. Yeah, about that… I…” stammered sleep-deprived Valentin until slamming to a stop in front of the memory of his own death. This was kind of a public place. Yet, the vision of a certain white-haired Ravenclaw flashed through his mind. Misha deserved the whole truth, and when would they ever get a chance to talk privately this summer? Days were sure to be packed with quidditch boot camp and other activities, while nights in the tent would be surrounded by all the other Horntails. Well, except maybe Johannes, who might just show up late at night, possibly quite a bit after curfew. Val couldn’t help but be curious about the boy’s adventures before shaking his head and returning to the present moment. With a sigh, Valentin lost his will to stifle the truth any longer. “Misha… my first wand, the white one… it broke when I fell, on the day I died.” It had been the only wand that ever kind-of-sort of fit like something other than a spine in his back. Imperfect as it was, when Val’s conductor wand broke, it was like the death of a friend. “Misha, maybe we can find a time to talk about this… I didn’t… I wanted to tell you. There’s something else, too, I really need to talk with you about. After the pillow peace treaty, okay? For now, I need you to have my back in another way. I want you to hit anyone with a pillow who looks like they’re gonna attack me, because I’m going in!!!!”
Valentin dashed like a cheetah at Felix and leapt at him with a blazing TICKLE AERIAL BOMBARDMENT! Pew pew pew pew pewwww!! The tickles rained down at Felix like a barrage of missiles.
“Come on, white-hair, THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE! Show me what you’ve got!!”
…And to think Valentin had been considering a nap! There were so many great things to do now.
Stats: STA 8 ✦ EVA 13 ✧ STR 2 ✦ WIS 15 ✧ARC 1 ✦ ACC 15 - Ency
Abilities: Keen Eye ✦ Charmer ✧ Evasive Maneuvers ✦ Fearless
Last edited by Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood on 12 Aug 2022, 20:25, edited 1 time in total.
12 Aug 2022, 17:30
Horntail Horde
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A look toward the Horntails from the sidelines as they erupted into an tent wide pillow fight and one word came to the blonde's mind. Children. Watching them, the group seemed akin to small children wrestling on the ground and playing amongst themselves.
Although, Charles couldn't judge the lot for their immature behavior. For that is how he acted around his international friends, leaning aginest the pillar with arms crossed as he thought about the three. Wondering, silently what they were up to... Were they engaged in a pillow fight to? Playing, laughing amongst themselves like the group that fell before his very eyes.
A flicker of an half smile that faded, watching the group... their closeness, laughter. It only reminded the blonde of his own friends. His heart aginest his chest, a part of him still not believing that he would choose a group of sweaty, masculinity blokes and Greta over the international squad. Strange times. Watching the group, leaning his head to the pillar as he smiled softly.
Greta starting an pillow fight, the girl seemed to hold a innocence that the others lacked. A spark in the darkness. A shimmer of light, almost like how a Fearie or Fairy shimmers in the shadows of a crave. The girl reminded him of Haley when the blonde looked at her, akin to a younger sibling that needed protection.
A soft smile, watching the two. The pillows thrown between the two, Frost and Fearie. Their smiles, the joy behind their swings and innocence of their eyes. The spark between them, the spark of fun.
The smile faded as the watched the, others getting involved, the whine of the wannabe goth close to his ear. A crack of the smile when he was hit in the back with a pillow, leaning to the pillar Charles called to him as he spoke"Your aim isn't as bad as your insults, imp. Who knew you had the capability to throw a pillow." Charles offered him a nod, setting aginest the pillar as he closed his eyes. Letting the children play.
A pillow suddenly nailed him in the chest, landing at his feet. His eyes cracked open, a glance to who threw it when they landed on Yefim Rumyantsev. The champion... the blonde knew the least about him compared to the others and wasn't starstruck nor a cronie of his (not yet at least) so he wrapped his brain around the question. Why throw a pillow at him? At the one on the sidelines of this fight who you didn't even know? The blonde eyes followed the kid, unsure what to make of him, sure he was thankful for the spot on the team but considered that part of his quidditch mates doings. The blonde still hadn't decided on Yefim, aka Oni or Дьявол which is devil in russian. The blonde might have took pride in his nicknames for other, as well as in his looks.
Watching, the relationship between Oni and Frost looked strong. One that challenged others, an slight nod as he reached down for the pillow. Taking it in his hands, the blonde considered placing it on the bed. Letting Letting children- friends have their fun. No need for him to get involved in their activities, Romeo wasn't either. Shouldn't that be a sign? If Romeo keeps away from the group activities then shouldn't he to?
Anyway, it won't make much sense for him to join the fun. The children were friends, close with bonds forged together. Their laughter and happiness in that moment only prove it, strengthen the fact. While, he wasn't a friend of theirs... his friends were in another tent, having fun without him in that very moment.
Watching, Charles held to the pillow, the laughter and loose featers flying about. The laughter, the laughter of friends and signs of closeness yet through it all, Johannes wasn't apart of the chaos either.
A toss the the pillow in the air, catching it in a swift movement, Charles pushed himself from the pillar. Taking the steps to Johannes as he spoke"mind your head, Jo," The blonde took an large stride, jumping up and slamming the pillow into Johannes's head. Stumbling back a step, a flicker of a smile left his lips.
Action: Throwing a pillow at Johannes
"There's no such thing as strange creatures, only blinked people" - Newt Scamander