Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

There was a tension between them, a push and pull, a tug and shove. One could see it, feel it and perhaps even taste it. It prickled over the Swede's skin as their glares would not waver. Brown eyes meeting those of unforgiving hazel. However Nichlas was getting somewhere, getting under the Russian boy's skin and that was all that mattered in the moment. He did not care why it mattered or questioned the fact that it mattered, but instead reveled in the moment as Slava stoically shook his head as if he had spoken his last word on the matter.

The brunette shut down in a way, unresponsive to Nichlas' jabs and that was just fine with him, this momentary victory, however short. However part of him looked forward to the moment when Slava snapped back, like puzzle pieces shifting together, a metronome that had been ticking silently in the background becoming perceivable to listening ears once more. A shift, their quarrel continuing and the sharkish smile on his lips formed almost automatically, smug amusement shining in his eyes when Slava ordered him to shut up. "Or?" he taunted, leaning forward almost, gaze piercing into the brown eyes devoid of mischief in the moment. His maddening attitude worked like a charm, he welcomed the effect he had and was ever so smug about it.

“I’m sorry, are your ears too sensitive? Get over it, you’re not my mother.” Nichlas laughed at the brunette's remark, a mix of genuine amusement at their argument and mocking as he raised an eyebrow to retort. "I would hope not. I would like to think I would raise my kid better than to swear at people like me," Nichlas was not holding back and in a weird way, neither way Slava for someone who was officially known for his happy face and niceness. "But don't worry your pretty little head, my ears are perfectly healthy, he offered casually, almost as if Slava had actually been worried with his inquiry, showing care rather than meaning to insult. There was a stumble in his thoughts however, right after he spoke, before he got back his composure immediately.

He would refuse to give the comment more thought in the moment or his feelings on the matter. Their interactions, well obviously he was used to starting arguments. But usually he did not relish in arguments that he was not constantly winning for himself. Sure he liked a challenge but Slava felt different to any challenge he had encountered before. There was not even a load of wit behind the Russian boy's words; they were emotional, rude and spoken without much thought and yet he found their arguments more engaging and actively seeked them out, instead of his usual taunts. It wasn't about the winning with the other boy, more about the thrill of the dance itself that kept them both going. Nichlas would refuse to put more meaning behind it, but he would at the very least keep himself aware of the fact that something was off. He would leave no chance to Slava picking up on the difference, inquiring about it and catching the Swede by surprise.

Slava argued about the use of color changing spells in combat casting and the ridiculousness of it actually momentarily bemused the Swede, who shook his head, before sighing. "If a new hair colour is what you are after, you can practice that in the mirror another time. This tutoring is meant to improve your actual combat casting abilities however, no time for games," the hypocrisy of the statement might have sounded astounding even for Nichlas, but who would dare tell the Swede to stop playing around. He had mastered the skills of combat casting a long time ago and if he did not keep himself mentally engaged, well he might just succumb to boredom. But it was refreshing at the very least to see the grumpy sunshine argue and dish out some own jabs. The recovering will to fight would make for a much more interesting tutoring session.

"What would you rather call it then, Solsken Sunshine. You can't mean to insinuate we are more than that? I admit I am quite handsome but you are far too brutish to be my type," An awful taunt, a smug one at that and while effective and possibly catching the Russian by surprise, there was also something that felt like it had shifted in the banter. Perhaps it was natural, obviously he was only picking up on Slava's inquiry about Nichlas' sexuality back when it was the other who had bantered in such ways. For Nichlas it had no further meaning aside from riling the other up. A bait and banter for the younger student. Nothing more.

Nichlas was however surprised when Slava managed to actually cast the spell on the second attempt. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the unexpected turn of event. Lacking a proper taunt, and hiding the fact that he was impressed rather well aside from his lack of proper reaction, he gave a nod. "And again," the Swede announced, gesturing toward the dummy.

==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky All speech is in Russian unless otherwise specified

"Or?" Nichlas challenged when Slava repeated that he should shut up. He was so annoying, taunting him with that irritating smile and obvious mirth. He clearly believed he was untouchable, and it was all the more frustrating that Slava didn’t feel like he had much power in this situation. He frowned. “I’m sure I have more glitter.” It felt like a stupid threat, honestly, but it was the first thing he could think of that had actually bothered the Swede thus far and he had to at least say something in response.

Meanwhile, Slava’s reaction to being chastised for his language was met with a laugh from Nichlas, which was… surprisingly positive, even despite the mocking undertones. Maybe anticipating a harsher response had been unwarranted, though, considering that the Swede’s current attitude consisted only of smugness and aloofness. It seemed like it would take a lot more to push him into anger—not that Slava necessarily wanted that, but, well… trying to find small ways to annoy the other was quickly becoming a habit. “People like you?” he repeated, eyebrows raised. “What would that be, then? Arrogant know-it-alls who have nothing better to do than "tutoring" on a Friday evening?” "But don't worry your pretty little head, my ears are perfectly healthy." Slava rolled his eyes. “Glad to hear it, I was so concerned,” he responded sarcastically.

The discussion of the color-changing spells had never been intended to be taken seriously. While it could technically be true that their use could be slightly distracting, it would do very little to deter anyone who had a bit of determination, and it would certainly do nothing of consequence in an actual combat situation. Slava was well aware of that—his comments had just been a distraction to delay the inevitable of the spells that Nichlas wanted to focus on, and to be honest, he was surprised that the other hadn’t seemed to pick up on that. "This tutoring is meant to improve your actual combat casting abilities however, no time for games." “Do you even know what games are?” Did Nichlas actually want to try to help Slava improve his capabilities? Regardless, no, Slava thought this could be a great time for games, especially if Nichlas thought it wasn’t.

"What would you rather call it then, Solsken Sunshine?" “I don’t know. Not friends. And just because you’re not saying it in Russian anymore doesn’t mean I don’t understand,” he responded grumpily. "You can't mean to insinuate we are more than that?" Slava frowned deeply in disbelief, caught somewhere between disgust and bafflement. “What? No, I most certainly cannot, unless you consider disliking to be more than friends. You’re the one using pet names—it might lead someone to get the wrong idea, sweetheart.” If Nichlas was going to be strange and use such terms of endearment, Slava could do that too until the other realized how odd it was.

"I admit I am quite handsome but you are far too brutish to be my type." Slava scoffed. “You must spend a lot of time in front of the mirror. And I’m delightful, thank you very much.” Mumbling, he added, “To those who deserve it.” Once Slava was able to cast the spell, there was a very brief moment of silence and he watched as Nichlas’s eyes narrowed before he nodded. Slava wasn’t sure what to expect next. Then came the instruction to do it again. The success must have filled him with confidence, because he somehow managed to cast it on the first try this time, surprising even himself. The Russian was pretty sure he could count on one hand the amount of times he had done that—it was a hard spell and he didn’t particularly like it, which didn’t help. But this… well, he was proud of himself for this, the corners of his mouth curling into a small but triumphant smile.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

Upon hearing the dreaded comeback the Swede wrinkled his nose in a very untypical fashion; the threat of glitter simply being too devastating and reminding him of the very first glitter bomb sent to his home that started this whole ordeal. If anything, all that followed that one act of defiance towards Nichlas is what set off the chain reaction that ultimately led to their dance, a dance that would likely go on forevermore. "That's vile," he responded with distaste for the suggestion, his nose wrinkling a little, betraying his usual control over his features. He could not fathom how the imp even considered that much glitter and sparkle a positive addition to his being, though the Swede also was forced to admit that it suited the other boy. Nichlas did not hate glitter, he just found it was best used sparingly and in ways that complimented a situation rather than leave it in chaos. There was a time and a place for the use of glitter and that place was usually kept far away from the classrooms or more formal settings. "While your adoration for glitter is a mystery to me, you better leave that sparkle far away from me from now on, you have ruined enough of my potions as is," he reprimanded, mildly standoffish. It was not an exaggeration either, multiple specs of glitter, stuck to his being and clothing, had found their way into his cauldrons within the following days of that attack, ruining the fragile balance of ingredients.

“People like you?” the other inquired and Nichlas inclined his head, "Why yes," he responded matter of factly. But as the much smaller boy went off again and began to describe the Swede. "I think you forgot handsome and skilled, but sure," he corrected, relishing in the way the other reacted like a cat that had been patted the wrong way. The sarcasm in the other's voice was not missed, but purposefully ignored and he doubt the matter required further commentary as the both of them had plenty of time to talk about how incredible the Swede was as a tutor in further tutoring sessions.

Nichlas could practically hear and see the wheels in the Russian's brain turn in response to his comment about the Color Changing spell. "Yes," the shark responded calmly, a cool smile forming on those lips, teeth glinting, "And I am aware of the game that you are playing right now." Nichlas was no stranger to diversion tactics. He had a little sister who had tried to get out of countless tutoring sessions by trying to talk about different topics until the time passed. "And I will have you know, it will not work on me." He did not actually choose to give examples of the games that Nichlas enjoyed playing but he would doubt that the little sunshine actually cared. Regardless Nichlas also had no reason for having to prove himself to the imp, so he just quietly rested his eyes on him, waiting for him to gather himself enough to get on with the session.

"You do know that I can start setting goals for these tutoring sessions and can get into contact with your professor to talk about your progress, right?" he informed the other boy, raising an eyebrow as a smug smirk tugged at his lip. "That is if you actually continue to aim for diversion from the actual lessons here," he added conciliatory.

“I don’t know. Not friends. And just because you’re not saying it in Russian anymore doesn’t mean I don’t understand,” the other replied in quite the sour mood. And in a way that sort of only added to the amusement that Nichlas felt at this exchange. Perhaps he had inadvertently given Slava an example of the types of games Nichlas enjoyed playing. "Well I am glad to hear you can figure out the similarity between the word despite the translation. However, you had not specified the term in itself being disliked by you, rather than just the Russian word. How was I ever supposed to know what you meant with your demand?" he asked, feigning innocent, knowing full well what he had been doing. His further statements had been met with visible shock and bafflement and in a way that was a perfect reaction in itself. “What? No, I most certainly cannot, unless you consider disliking to be more than friends. You’re the one using pet names—it might lead someone to get the wrong idea, sweetheart.” Nichlas almost grinned in response, like many of his features it would seem sharp around the edges and not nearly as innocent as a grin was usually meant to be. "Now you just flatter me, calling me sweetheart?," he leaned in, possibly spooking the other boy, but in that moment that seemed alright. "If anyone is giving someone the wrong idea, it is you and your - apparently - uncharacteristic grudge on me," he retorted, before withdrawing and standing back at full height, gaze on the smaller student. Of course he was not actually trying to insinuate anything but he just was trying to get the other to back off from insinuating things about his own intentions.

"I don't need mirrors to tell me how flawless I am, now let's get on with the spells, otherwise I will have to add 10 minutes to the session for your constant chitchat," he warned, though there was no actual seriousness behind the threat as he watched the other students perform the spells more flawlessly again. When Slava succeeded, the Swede gave a nod. "See, it is not that hard, do you wish to stick to those two spells or move on to something a little... different?" He asked, giving the other the option, simply not to fully freak him out as he gestured at the piste.

==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky All speech is in Russian unless otherwise specified

Slava couldn’t hold back a laugh—the look on Nichlas’s face at the suggestion of being met with more glitter was too funny, the Swede’s nose seemingly wrinkling reflexively, bypassing any attempt to maintain a neutral expression. "That’s vile." Oh, how Slava loved getting reactions; each was a tiny victory. “You asked,” he pointed out unapologetically. Nichlas told him to “leave that sparkle far away” from him and his potions and Slava nodded like he understood, trying unsuccessfully to keep the smirk off of his face. “If you’re just nice to me then there should be no reason for that though, right?” He was still reasonably scared and aware that he was continuing to play with fire, but he was grasping at the distraction from his more difficult feelings.

Nichlas didn’t even attempt to debate the allegations of being an “arrogant know-it-all”, as Slava had put it, although the Swede did add “handsome and skilled”, which elicited an immediate eye roll. Could Nichlas be more full of himself if he tried? He also insisted that he did know what games were, but Slava still wasn’t convinced—Nichlas’s idea of “fun” definitely wasn’t like Slava’s. "And I am aware of the game that you are playing right now." Slava shifted his gaze ever so slightly away from Nichlas’s face upon seeing his expression, not wanting to let it make him more nervous again, but his heart was already racing. He swallowed, trying to suppress that feeling, and then blinked innocently. “What game? I see no game here.”

Clearly, Nichlas wasn’t the biggest fan of Slava’s attempts to distract from whatever it was that he actually wanted to do, and threatened to talk to the professor about Slava’s “progress” (or lack thereof). “You say that like I care,” Slava muttered. His grades weren’t horrible, but they were mediocre at best, especially when it came to actual spellcasting, so did he really have much to lose in that regard? He did try, he really did, but it was just so hard to maintain good enough focus to cast advanced spells and to study stuff he wasn’t completely interested in. Truthfully, though, regardless of what he said to Nichlas, he did care a little bit about what professors thought of him—he didn’t want to be a complete disappointment—but between grades, pranks, and fights, he certainly wasn’t on the highest floors of the dormitories to begin with…

Slava pointed out that Nichlas was still calling him “Sunshine”, just in a different language, and now the Swede was spewing some nonsense about not understanding what Slava had meant. "However, you had not specified the term in itself being disliked by you, rather than just the Russian word. How was I ever supposed to know what you meant with your demand?" “It was obvious. How stupid are you?” He knew that Nichlas wasn’t genuinely unaware, but still. “Why are you even calling me that? It’s weird.” Apparently, though, calling Nichlas “sweetheart” didn’t, in fact, make him realize how bizarre it was to be using pet names. No, it seemed to have the opposite effect, making Nichlas immediately grin instead. He leaned in and Slava resisted the urge to pull away, not breaking eye contact.

"Now you just flatter me, calling me sweetheart?" Slava raised an eyebrow. “You want me to continue that?” he responded judgementally, clearly not understanding how Nichlas found that flattering. "If anyone is giving someone the wrong idea, it is you and your - apparently - uncharacteristic grudge on me." “What would the wrong idea from that be? I think that’s a perfectly clear message.”

"I don’t need mirrors to tell me how flawless I am"—Slava immediately snorted, rolling his eyes—"now let’s get on with the spells, otherwise I will have to add 10 minutes to the session for your constant chitchat." “You don’t have to do that, it would be because you want to for whatever strange reason,” he grumbled, correcting him. “And would you rather I be silent? That seems… dull.” Maybe it would be easier to be silent, though, and pretend like none of this was really happening.

He kept quiet as Nichlas said "See, it is not that hard," because, yes, it still was, but by some miracle Slava had actually managed to successfully cast the spells twice in a row. He wasn’t keen to continue trying to cast them, though, especially the Blasting Curse. “Different?” he repeated hesitantly, eyes following Nichlas’s gesture to the piste. To his credit, Nichlas could have been a lot scarier when bringing that up, but Slava wasn’t convinced that that wasn’t just to trick him. Well, fine, what was the worst that could happen…? He couldn’t bring himself to truly care what harm might come to him, because he still felt it would be deserved. He didn’t want to possibly have to be violent in return, though, not so soon after… everything, even if combat was meant to happen on the piste.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

Nichlas stared back as Slava laughed in his face, taking in the expression with a slight narrowing in his eyes as he began to sort the situations in his mind. Slava was a jumpy enigma, in one moment acting daringly without thought and in the next he would cower in worry and apparent fright. An in-between those two extremes seemed to be rare and it added to the image of a brash brute that acted without much forethought. He, however, also was quite aware of the underlying fear that bled into the crass act. "You should worry more about what I can do, if you come close to me with the glitter again," he offered his two cents with an intended casual tone to his voice, regaining his composure quite quickly after his disdain of Slava's previous prank breaking through his well-crafted facade of imperviousness.

His threat was not necessarily one he would have to overdo, that would just play into Slava's cards and what he thought of Nichlas. In a way it would make him look predictable. But part of the Swede was already well aware that he likely did not have to go beyond uttering the words for Slava to back off. Or feel encouraged. A frustrating aspect of the Russian boy Nichlas had learned about far too soon. He had intimidated the boy before only for it to backfire and douse his entire sleeping quarters back in Österlen with glitter. This time he remained in control of his features, despite his disdain towards the glittery attacks the other seemed to enjoy making people suffer with.

Nichlas surely caught the eyeroll of the other boy at the mention of himself being handsome and skilled, the Swede though ignored it in favor of not having to argue the other boy on a fact he knew was objectively true. Slava would not dare to admit such a fact as he would have had to actually give Nichlas a compliment in that matter. But also because arguing with the other boy in such matters seemed to be frankly aimless. Nichlas raised an eyebrow when Slava claimed he was not playing any games, or rather than he was unaware of any games being afoot. Which, Nichlas did not have to be a genius to see right through. "You are so transparent in your intentions, you might as well be made of glass," the Swede responded dryly, though he was inadvertently slightly humored by Slava's denial.

"I believe you would," he began, before a small smile formed on Nichlas lips and a daring spark entered his eyes as he continued with calculated impact, "academic success plays a huge role in being allowed to participate in extracurricular activities," he continued and then delivered the final blow after a slight pause, "like Quidditch."Nichlas knew very well how dear Quidditch was to the other boy, he also was very aware that it was an empty threat at best because Slava was not doing horribly enough in the class for such measures to be enforced on him, but Nichlas did not need the comment to have a deep impact. He knew it would at the very lease make the other halt and therefore disprove his claim to not care. Slava seemed like one who in many cases cared too much rather than too little, as evident by the thoughtless stunt he had pulled in the lesson he had paid Alaric.

“It was obvious. How stupid are you?” Nichlas eyes narrowed with an unreadably glint in his eyes, one that however definitely gave a glimpse of the thin ice that Slava had dared to step on the moment he insulted Nichlas' intellect. The only thing saving him right now was that Nichlas was very well aware that Slava knew better than to actually believe what he had said. But there was a noticeable ripple effect and the increase in tension was almost palpable. "You would do well to not insult me to my face in the future," he explained, slowly, almost as if he was expecting Slava not being able to quite follow along. "Though I would also advice against doing so behind my back, few things go unnoticed around here, this school lives off gossip," he added in seemingly afterthought. He did not return the other's question with an answer however, in a way hoping it would go unnoticed and frankly any reply to it would not properly fit into this current mood of their exchange.

"I did not say that," he responded and almost gave a shrug. "However it would explain about your need to mess with me than it would about me, who rarely ever gets called anything beside my name." And frankly it was for good reason. Nichlas disliked the use of nicknames, simply because there was no version of his name that did not sound inferior to the actual version of it. His parents had done well choosing it for him and it seemed like an insult to not use it. The irony of his statement however was willingly refused access to the forefront of his thoughts. His snide remarks did not apply to him of course, especially not if they were ignored in order to choose the tact of their dance.

“What would the wrong idea from that be? I think that’s a perfectly clear message.” Nichlas only raised his eyebrow at that but did not grace it with an answer. If Slava could not see how Slava acting out of character was something to be curious about, he would not give him reason to pause and think about the consequences of his actions. “You don’t have to do that, it would be because you want to for whatever strange reason,” Now Nichlas just smirked. "Well yes, stealing your Friday evening feels like a good enough reason to follow through with the threat," he answered, despite there not being a clear question. However Nichlas was quite sure that the other boy would respond to his jab in kind. Part of Nichlas however agreed with the latter statement of this whole things being a lot more dull if Slava was more agreeable or quiet. He did however not reward Slava with a response or uttering of his agreement. He had no intention to push the other's ego further.

Without glancing back, Nichlas strode past Slava and towards the piste, settling into position as he reached for his wand. His gaze looked over to Slava who still remained in the spot where he had first left him when bringing up the piste. He seemed almost frozen, locked in his thoughts and Nichlas could very much imagine what thoughts must be occupying his mind. "Well, will you come over, we don't have all evening, unless you wish to extend this session?" the question was rhetoric and mostly meant to pull the Russian out of his thoughts, the Swede was very well aware of the fact that Slava could not wait for this tutoring agreement to come to an end so he could go on his merry way and resume his brutish ways.

==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky All speech is in Russian unless otherwise specified

"You should worry more about what I can do, if you come close to me with the glitter again." Instead of letting the very clear threat sink in, Slava chose to focus on how utterly boring that statement was. What was so bad about a little sparkle here and there? Nichlas, unfortunately, seemed to have no sparkle in his dull life until now, so Slava was just being kind by adding it. He was sure it improved things so much for the uptight, orderly boy in front of him. And Slava would likely just keep doing it, because clearly it had had an effect on Nichlas. Not an effect that the Swede would have wanted, most certainly, but, in breaking through the other’s carefully crafted exterior, it worked perfectly well for Slava’s entertainment.

Slava’s all-too-innocent claim of not seeing any games was met with skepticism, to say the least, with Nichlas raising an eyebrow and responding dryly about just how obvious the Russian’s intentions were. Slava shrugged, unbothered, instead using this to try to “win” a previous argument of sorts. “So you do find me transparent after all. See, nothing to hide—nothing I could hide.” It was a callback to their first lengthy conversation that had happened that fateful day on the Quidditch bench—the one that had bound their paths together for better or worse.

Nichlas evidently didn’t believe that Slava wouldn’t care about being reported to the professors, but it was true, just only to a certain extent. As soon as the smile started to appear on Nichlas’s face, Slava was immediately wary, already on edge before he even continued speaking. "… academic success plays a huge role in being allowed to participate in extracurricular activities… like Quidditch." Slava’s eyes narrowed. Nichlas could take as many Friday evenings from him as he wanted, but there was no way that Slava would ever let him take Quidditch away, and the mere idea of that, no matter how unrealistic, angered him. “It’s not like you can make me fail all my classes or something,” he pointed out disdainfully, but, in triggering the emotional reaction, Nichlas had already won.

Apparently, Nichlas really didn’t like being called stupid. Well, most people didn’t, but some people could take a joke. It wasn’t serious, but Nichlas had claimed to not know what Slava meant when he said to stop calling him Sunshine, when he most certainly did know exactly what he meant. Was Slava really supposed to believe that the Swede would be that stupid? No, of course he wasn’t, so why would Nichlas be surprised when Slava rightfully judged the claim as stupid? He should make up his mind.

"You would do well to not insult me to my face in the future." Meeting the other’s eyes, Slava suddenly felt cold, as if the chilliness of Nichlas’s tone and expression had actually lowered the room’s temperature by a few degrees. The danger was readily apparent, and yet Slava still had a hard time with the idea of correcting his behavior. Nichlas should just not do things that were so easily insulted, then. Slava’s first thought was that if Nichlas really wanted, Slava could insult him not to his face, but Nichlas was already prepared for that, addressing it before the Russian even had a chance to say anything on that matter.

"… few things go unnoticed around here, this school lives off gossip." Yeah. Slava had noticed that. How many days had it taken Nichlas to find out about what had just happened, again? Not that Slava insulting Nichlas behind his back would be something of the same level worth knowing and gossiping about, though. It would surely have to be something more extreme before that was warranted. And did Nichlas really care that much about being insulted?

Regarding the ridiculous pet names, when Slava asked if Nichlas wanted him to continue, the other responded nonchalantly, "I did not say that." Well, it sure sounded like it, especially considering his own excessive use of “Sunshine”. What else was Slava supposed to do in this situation? "However it would explain about your need to mess with me than it would about me, who rarely ever gets called anything beside my name." If that was true, wouldn’t that just make it more effective when Nichlas did get called by something other than his name? And so what if Slava was trying to mess with him? It wasn’t like Nichlas wasn’t doing the exact same thing. Speaking of which, Nichlas was way too smug about “stealing” Slava’s Friday evening. How many times did he need to reiterate it? Slava was grumpy enough already with that, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I still think you’re just wasting yours too.”

Nichlas made his way onto the piste but Slava didn’t move at first, suddenly caught up in his nerves. He had seen the way Nichlas had decimated that practice dummy with seemingly very little effort. Why would Slava willingly put himself on the other end of the Swede’s wand now? Not to mention that Slava really, really was not keen on violence in general right now. "Well, will you come over, we don’t have all evening, unless you wish to extend this session?" Pulled back to reality, Slava’s gaze slowly drifted in Nichlas’s direction—unfortunately, he had no actual choice but to face this—and he managed to persuade himself to take his place on the piste. All thoughts were forcibly expelled from his mind as he tried to compartmentalize his feelings enough to function, watching the other boy carefully.

The Swede stared down the imp in a scrutinizing fashion. His words had carried a underlaying, yet clear threat towards the other boy, if he dared to approach him with that dreaded sparkle of the glitter he carried in his pockets again. Yet, the Russian seemed utterly unfazed and Nichlas tried to read within the other's reaction where the threat had gotten lost in translation. Perhaps there had been an element within his words, even the lack of clarity of it being a threat which's consequences the imp had to suffer if he dared to defy them, that had gone above the other's head, small as he was. Or perhaps, and that thought was less pitiful but all the more aggravating even if he would not let that show, the other simply did not care about the promise of danger his words had carried. Feasibly was even, that the other was drawn to it, he was a Quidditch player after all. And so far no one had proven him wrong that those attached to broom sports liked to chase after adrenaline even if they were off their brooms.

“So you do find me transparent after all. See, nothing to hide—nothing I could hide.” If Nichlas had any less self-control he might have pinched the bridge of his nose, for now he settled on a deadpan stare into the others eyes, "No," he said slowly, stepping one step closer to the Russian while maintaining eye contact, "You are an enigma. You wear your heart on your sleeve, transparent as glass and yet your reactions and actions appear hardly make sense in regards to what you are known for." Nichlas continued to speak slowly, not a fan of the words he was speaking, regardless of them being the truth. And usually Nichlas appreciated facts, however now that the fact was that there was a person who did not follow any social rule or pattern, did not sit well with him. Slava was known for his openness and kind heart across the school, yet he was wild and chaotic on top of that. However these displays of hostility toward Nichlas upon their first encounter had been opposing what was known about him and Nichlas had assumed those were his true colors. He would not stress about this much however, he would get a read on the other sooner or later, people tended to be predictable in their intentions. Eventually Slava would be too. And then things would return to a normal sense of predictability... Nichlas moved on with his thoughts. He had an imp to pay attention to, less he would be attacked with that horrid glitter to draw his full attention back to the conversation.

His eyes narrowed. He did understood of course, the callback as what it was. That would, however, not mean he would entertain the notion of his conflicting words as much as he would insist on Slava's personality being in conflict with itself. However with their continuous interaction the Swede took another small victory for himself, when Slava took the bait about finding a way to block him from Quidditch practice. Nichlas, truthfully, did not actually have the intention to pull such strings. Not unless Slava dared to properly offend him on something at the very least. "Even if that were the truth, surely there could be one professor found who would be inclined to give you detention over starting fights at school and additionally would let themselves be convinced to make said detentions overlap with times of Quidditch practice," he goaded somewhat sardonically. While this threat remained an empty one at this point in time, it was certainly much closer to the realm of possibilities. So at the very least Slava would unlikely be able to remain nonchalant.

“I still think you’re just wasting yours too.” The counter argument made the Swede hum for a moment. "That may be, but many things are a waste of time and yet need doing. So with this I get at least some slight satisfaction of 'helping your studies' on lovely Friday evenings," truth to be told, Nichlas's knowledge of magical teachings surpassed all the school had to offer him and thus just being stuck in this school for another year, to achieve his N.E.W.T.s while he could be off, getting a head start in the world of graduates, was to be considered a waste of time for the Swede. Losing Friday evenings was not much more wasteful, nor did he personally consider Friday evenings to be superior to other evenings of the week. He also was aware that sharing any of this would be met with dread by the glitter imp and his insistence on the fact that the tall-grown boy was boring, just because the other boy had little grasp on how Nichlas could enjoy life without sparkle, glitter or an excessive need to have things going on.

Well speaking of sparks and glitter, now that Slava had finally decided to join him on the piste, after what Nichlas could tell required waging an inner battle with himself, the Swede nonchalantly withdrew his wand and held it aloft, pointed at the Russian. Let's test your shielding and casting capabilities. I will start with a spell, you block it and then we turn this around," he explained, as he handled his wand carefully, his gaze settled onto the Russian teen, his hazel eyes appearing cool, calculating as he made his first move.

Nichlas did not wish for the other to rely too much on his body, which is what he is used to, being the brute he was. He wanted the other to use his mind and wit and thus hindering his ability to rely on his body early on, was going to be his aim. That was, in case Slava would fail to raise his shield in time. As his Impediment Jinx flew toward the Russian, who indeed managed to cast the Shield Charm and block the attack that would have otherwise slowed him down. However the spell dissipated upon hitting the shield and the Swede gave a hum. "Well that went alright, next time try to send it back. Now go for an offensive spell that you have learned after fifth year," he assigned the task with a nod, as he got his wand ready to cast a spell himself.

==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky All speech is in Russian unless otherwise specified

Slava pointed out that Nichlas had indeed called him transparent, and for some reason he was met with a deadpan stare, so he averted his eyes slightly after the "No." He focused instead on Nichlas’s ear, chin, wherever, just any place that was easier to look at than that intense stare as Nichlas stepped closer. “I’m not obligated to make sense to you, and I doubt I ever will, since there seems to be a lot we don’t see eye to eye on. The point is that, even if I am "an enigma" to you, I’m still transparent. I don’t need to hide anything.” He did not need to be understood by Nichlas. His loved ones understood him for the most part, and that was enough, as long as he was true to himself. True to himself… yet here he was, upset after having beat up a child and then picked fights with Nichlas on top of that. The violence that had marred his recent actions wasn’t him being true to himself—it couldn’t be, right? So what was the point in being transparent if he wasn’t being unapologetically himself, but rather someone who hurt others…?

Pointing out that Nichlas couldn’t affect his grades massively enough to get him pulled out of Quidditch hadn’t been sufficient to stop that line of thinking. He had believed that he had figured out that the threat from Nichlas was largely baseless… except it wasn’t, exactly, because Nichlas had other ideas ready, too. He pointed out that, instead, detention could be given at times overlapping with those of the Quidditch practices. Slava didn’t have a rebuttal for that one, pressing his lips together in a thin line as he frowned. He anxiously bit his bottom lip subconsciously. The proposition got to him much more than he would’ve liked to admit, especially because of how feasible it seemed. The thumb of his hand resting at his side began subtly rubbing his leg. He tried to reassure himself that, even if it did end up happening, it would only be once, maybe a handful of times at most—nothing near preventing him from participating in Quidditch long-term. He could worry about it if it actually happened—he didn’t need to worry about it now.

The idea that Nichlas was wasting his own time didn’t seem to bother him much, easily dismissing it. “Need doing?” Slava repeated. “Does this really, truly need doing?” He realized he didn’t actually particularly want to hear the answer to that and shut his mouth. Looking for something else to latch onto, stepping onto the piste hadn’t exactly been what he wanted, but it definitely got him to focus on things other than the rest of their conversation—things like how completely terrifying the idea of facing Nichlas on a piste was, given the whole Blasting Curse demonstration that had happened mere moments ago. Yeah, that really wasn’t any better than thinking about mere words…

He barely heard Nichlas’s instructions; it felt like he was going to choke on his own heartbeat. Slava wasn’t great at the Shield Charm—he wasn’t great at magic to begin with, struggling to focus most of the time—but if Nichlas was even a fraction as brutal as his little demonstration had been, Slava would be needing the shield. Brimming with nervous energy, Slava somehow still managed to cast successfully, trying not to flinch as the spell came towards him and letting out a breath of relief once the spell dissipated. He felt a little bit more at ease now—he already had the two successful Blasting Curses under his belt, and now this, too, plus, Nichlas had cast something that was just more of an annoyance and wouldn’t have done any damage. Maybe Slava would be fine. “Send it back? Can you control what the Shield Charm does…?” he asked genuinely, tilting his head slightly to one side.

Now he needed to decide what to cast. He paused to think, running through a mental list of new spells from the past two-ish years. He really, really didn’t want to be violent today and risk hurting Nichlas again. However, Nichlas had explicitly instructed him to attempt an offensive spell, and Slava figured that something like the Fog Charm or Bubble Jinx wouldn’t be particularly effective. There was also the chance that they didn’t fit Nichlas’s idea of “offensive” well enough to begin with. He would probably have to try something that could do actual damage, as much as he was reluctant to. Slava had reasonable faith in the gap between their skill levels, though. His magic posed little real threat while Nichlas’s defensive magic was likely better and stronger than Slava could even imagine; he had no problem admitting that. His own strengths lay elsewhere, and that was okay.

If, realistically, his magic wouldn’t be able to do any significant harm to Nichlas, surely it had to be fine for Slava to at least attempt damaging spells even despite his preference for avoiding violence right now. Thus, he began considering some of those such spells. The Blasting Curse was out of the question—sure, he had managed it successfully multiple times just now, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He eventually settled on the Pressurized Water Charm, something that he knew could sting a bit but ultimately wasn’t horribly unpleasant. Fixing his stance, Slava attempted the spell, but nothing happened, causing a corner of his mouth to briefly dip in disappointment. He thought it had been close, though; he could feel it. He tried again, and this time, the jet of water easily shot out of his wand with more strength than Slava could have expected from a spell of his own. Well, even if he somehow missed or something else went wrong now, that had been a pretty great cast. He could be proud of that.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

Nichlas stared at the other and silently judged the defiant in the other as they stared each other down. Neither of them trying or willing to back down. Nichlas was not sure in that moment whether it was because Slava was reckless or brave, he settled on both as that seemed to be apt enough to describe the demeanor and personality of the Russian. After all he had seen him play on the Quidditch pitch and was quite aware of just what kind of reckless flight maneuvers the other was capable of. "Your behavior is pretty inconsistent for someone who is not hiding anything," he responded, almost casually but with a certain edge to it. He knew that part of Slava was quite transparent, but usually transparent people were quite predictable in nature. The fact that Slava managed to defy that certainty, stumped Nichlas, even though he was quite unwilling to admit that or let that on. Well aside from naming the other an enigma, but that was as far as he would go on that matter.

Apparently his little theoretical exploration of cause and effect indeed had an effect on the other and a smirk spread over his face in response to the silence, basking silently in the victory of the situation. Of course he would not go that far, not unless Slava would do something incredibly stupid to annoy the Swede. But he knew he had that leverage over the other and perhaps it would make the other boy more cautious before throwing another punch or dusting the Swede with various colors of glitter.

“Need doing?” Slava stressed, repeating his words before adding “Does this really, truly need doing?” and Nichlas gave a mild shrug with a smug, sharky expression. "Does it not? Lectures are a quite important part of life," the Swede replied, his words carrying a double meaning. They hinted at the lesson he was trying to teach the other boy, about crossing him, while also in its simplest form, talking about the value of tutoring lessons by themself.

Slava however, seemed quite content leaving that part of the conversation behind them and found his way to the piste as instructed. Part of Nichlas had expected the Russian to just walk out of the room as scared as he had seemed after Nichlas had cast that Blasting Curse on the dummy. However he knew that the other was far too brutish to back out of what was the perfect display of a challenge to him, testing his reactions to an invite to duel. Apparently the other however, was able to handle such an invitation well enough after some momentary hesitance.

“Send it back? Can you control what the Shield Charm does…?” Nichlas thought about that for a moment. "It depends. There is some level of control you can put into your shield, but in the end it mostly depends on how the spell hits the shield. Does not mean that you cannot try to control the aftermath of it though," the Swede responded earnestly. He did actually like the aspect of teaching, hence why this lecturing session regardless of original intention, was not much of a burden to him. Knowledge and wisdom were things he regarded as highly important, and once understanding of things could only be furthered through the actions of sharing such knowledge, through debates really.

Nichlas was waiting for the choice of spell the other came up with, ready to cast his own shield. Holding off when he recognized what would end up being an unsuccessful cast. "Try keeping your mind clear, you are overthinking," he instructed calmly, when he watched the spell fizzle out without success. And nodded when the second attempt turned out to seem much more promising, casting his own spell, constructing a strong shield that made the stream of water burst into sparks of blue upon hitting the translucent barrier. He gave a nod, once the spell had fully dissipated and raised his own wand once more. "That was a good cast, the second time around," the Swede spoke, which was as it turned out a genuine compliment which he assumed might come as a surprise to the Russian. However Nichlas was not beneath giving credit, if he felt credit was due.

"Be ready," he warned and cast his own spell. A trip jinx. Simple as that and well delivered too. Now it was only a question if Slava would manage to shield himself from it in time... or whether he would trip. As long as the spell was not returned to him, he was quite content with whichever result this would bring them.

==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky All speech is in Russian unless otherwise specified

He wasn’t sure what Nichlas didn’t understand about Slava’s transparency. For some reason, he seemed to be trying to argue that Slava’s lack of consistent behavior meant that he was hiding something, which made absolutely no sense to the Russian. “Does someone who’s not hiding things have to have perfectly consistent behavior and just act one way all the time?” he questioned. “What would I even be hiding?” He genuinely didn’t understand where Nichlas was coming from with this. People were rarely as simple as they seemed—even Nichlas himself had apparently already been becoming proof of that, too.

Slava expressed doubts about whether this “tutoring” session on a Friday evening was truly necessary, as Nichlas had implied. He rolled his eyes at the response when the Swede talked about lectures being an important part of life, choosing to ignore the smugness. Was this really a lecture, and were lectures so important? Still, it was actually quite a mild response—better than Slava had expected, for whatever reason. He wasn’t going to argue, though—the eye roll said everything he needed to.

His genuine question about the Shield Charm was met with a similarly genuine answer after Nichlas paused to think. The Swede explained how there was some degree of control over the Shield Charm’s effects when met by a spell, but, to some degree, it was also left up to fate with how the spell happened to hit the shield. Slava nodded, taking it in. “That makes sense.” He filed away the information as well as what Nichlas had said afterwards—that they could still try to “control the aftermath”, which was something that seemed important enough to keep in mind. Slava hadn’t really expected to learn more about spells while here, but it seemed that was actually happening to some extent, even if it was just a small piece of information about something he hadn’t previously considered.

When Slava tried to cast a spell at Nichlas, it had failed the first time, but he didn’t get too hung up on it. He had failed the Blasting Curse earlier, too, but then succeeded on the second try—something he repeated with the Pressurized Water Charm now, too. Undeterred, he had already been trying again by the time that Nichlas spoke. "Try keeping your mind clear, you are overthinking." Slava couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. He had kind of thought Nichlas would be negative about the failure, not vaguely supportive—but, more to the point, he could hardly believe that Nichlas had actually said that, specifically. What did he think was causing Slava’s “overthinking” in the first place? Surely Nichlas had to know that it was because of him.

Did he expect Slava to feel normal facing him in a duel—albeit a practice one—after the Blasting Curse demonstration? Because that was a ridiculous expectation, if so. Yes, so far in their time on the piste, things weren’t going too poorly, but it didn’t make the anxiety go away. What if Nichlas suddenly decided to be ruthless? He hadn’t yet, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t. However… if he had properly wanted to hurt Slava, Slava could only assume that he would have already done it. If he was angry, the first spells likely would’ve been his opportunity to take it out on the Russian and level the score or whatever. But Nichlas didn’t seem angry—just calm. Almost scarily calm, sure, but even-tempered and cool nevertheless, and Slava didn’t really feel that Nichlas would try to lure him into a false sense of security just to turn things around in that way.

Slava couldn’t stop overthinking, not entirely, but he was slowly realizing that maybe things weren’t as bad as they had seemed—here, at least. Outside of here? Well, there was still the absolute mess he had made of the situation with Alaric. The thought brought on another wave of nausea; he wasn’t quite sure how the topic had managed to be pushed to the side slightly, though, considering how it had completely taken over his thoughts and feelings ever since it happened. Slava didn’t want to admit it, but while he had loathed the idea of coming here, it did seem to at least serve as a decent distraction. He still couldn’t exactly keep his mind clear, but this would have to do.

The successful cast was stronger than Slava’s usual spells—the persistence apparently paid off. Even Nichlas recognized it, unexpectedly praising him. “Thanks,” he mumbled, the word feeling strange in his mouth when it came to Nichlas. "Be ready," was a warning a second later that did not make Slava feel good, but, somehow, he did actually manage to be prepared enough. The spell came at him a lot faster than he expected, but his instincts protected him with a Shield Charm just in time, surprising himself. With slightly more confidence this time, he cast in return, sending a Conjunctivitis Curse Nichlas’s way on the first try.