2nd July, mid afternoon
@Ruby Cazares as Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

Margo smiled a cunning smile. Whilst she detested Quidditch, meeting magical students from other countries was sure to be fun. New, foreign accents would make the Scottish lilt to her voice seem almost tame in comparison. She could hardly wait to find some new faces to tease and some new languages to analyse. To be honest, Margo wasn’t particularly good at learning languages. She could speak some French but it was mostly limited to phrases like ‘I am called Margo today’ and ‘I like croissants’. She doubted that those would particularly impressive to those who spoke two or more languages fluently. But, well, she made a fool of herself frequently, and as long as she kept her head held high she didn’t figure she’d come to any harm.

And then there was the actual event that Margo was ‘on holiday’ to see. She was deeply rooting for Hogwarts in the game, of course, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t collect some information on the students of Durmstrang. Her smile grew. Maybe she could learn some Russian to add to her French. In return, she’d be perfectly happy to offer her English expertise to anyone interested. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun with translations. She’d signed up for an acting club recently. It was time to see if her dramatic flair could stretch to some simple hoodwinking.

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A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

A Quidditch game, being with his brother, and getting to mess around with foreigners? Vyacheslav didn't see how this could get any better. He would, of course, be the star of the show, and he would make sure that those Hogwarts kids could see that. Somehow, he had managed to lose Maksim—he was likely flirting with someone already. Today, they were meant to continue setting up camp, but Slava didn't see much that the students had to do after their tents were in place and their tentmates with them. His own tentmates were people that he liked. Of course, there was his brother, Max, and his friend Rudolf. Slava's own buddy, Madhup, was there too. The last member of their tent was Arjan, who had saved Slava's skin several times, yet still insisted that he DIDN'T love Slava despite the younger boy's attempts to get him to say otherwise. Slava liked him anyway.

Glancing around, he decided to have some fun of his own until he was reunited with his older brother. He saw a smiling girl nearby who looked around his age and decided that he would approach her. He had no doubt that his English would be good enough, as he had been practicing it for years. “You like Quidditch, eh? Excited for the game?” While his accent was decent, there was a very noticeable foreign tinge to it and the girl would probably realise that he was one of the Durmstrang kids.

Margo had been approached by a stranger. She felt almost giddy with excitement. The boy looked young and distinctly non-Hogwartian which could only mean one thing: Durmstrang. He was in for a surprise, though. His strangely accented voice had just assumed that she was a Qudditch fan. Now, Margo was not a Quidditch fan, and did not take kindly to being accused as one... but perhaps she could set him back on track in a rather creative fashion. Maybe if he thought she didn’t like Quidditch then he’d assume she didn’t care about the outcome of the game. Which was an absolute lie, of course, but sometimes the truth needed to be tweaked for the greater good. In other words, increasing Hogwarts’ odds of winning.

“Actually I’m not particularly invested in flying, just here for the atmosphere, ya know?” She said airily. “Say, want me to teach you some uniquely Hogwartian insults to throw at the other team during the game? Wouldn’t want the spectators to get bored...” Hopefully he wouldn’t catch the meaning behind the glint in her eyes. As long as he didn’t, Margo could put her acting skills to good use. She wasn’t likely to get a round of applause for her performance, but hopefully some very confused and very non-offended Quidditch players would thank her in the end.

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A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

He took a proper look at the girl. She had shoulder-length, dark blond hair with a slight curl to it. Her chin was sharp and she had the air of someone who could make biting retorts and wouldn't back down from a challenge. And her eyes? Slava wasn't one who normally noticed too much about someone's appearance besides their basic features and what their air was. If they seemed like a person who would interest him, perhaps he looked for a few more details, but eye colour wasn't usually something that stood out to him. This girl's eyes were different. They were so unusual that he couldn't help but notice it. Dark amber eyes, full of mischief and creativity. Oh, this was going to be interesting…

She spoke and he was surprised by her voice. She had a thick accent with an edge to it, and although he did have to listen a bit more carefully than he would normally have to for an English accent, it wasn't hard to understand. But what she had said was more perplexing. His head tilted ever so slightly to one side. She seemed so excited, but she wasn't interested in Quidditch? Did she not care about the game…? She then offered to teach him insults. As if the great Slava needed help with that. However, he was still intrigued and a grin appeared on his face. “Why would you do that for me? But I would never want the spectators to be bored. Go ahead. I would love to know what you use here in Britain.”

Ha! The boy had fallen for her trap. Okay, so the hard part was far from over, but at least she had a good start. “Oh yes, these are very classically British. Just you wait. They’ll love your creativity out on the pitch.” Margo grinned, emphasising her vowels so her Scottish accent would be more pronounced. She found herself becoming less and less worried about the success of her plan, because, let’s face it, she could laugh for weeks at the look on his face even if he managed to figure it out.

Unfortunately, it seemed possible that he might. Was that a tinge of doubt in his tone? An above moronic intelligence in his eye? Ah well, it was so much more fun when the person was actually smart. Time for the most important line.

“So if you call someone a ‘divine hippogriff’ they’ll be very offended. Also, ‘angelic deity’ is very good. Play around with the sarcasm in your voice as well.”

Sadly, the boy had sounded suspiciously self assured when he’d spoken. She just hoped his desire to win overcame any doubts about her advice. If this worked, she’d never accuse Quidditch of being boring again. The boy was doing flying a favour, really. As long as he remained unaware, she was in for the most exciting match of the century.

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A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

The girl insisted that the insults she was telling him were very common in Britain, but also creative, since she was saying that people would enjoy his creativity on the pitch. Slava really wanted to believe her, but he laughed. She was certainly British, her accent and her fluency in the language made that obvious, but he had slight doubts about the insults she was providing. He didn't understand all of the words she was saying, but he knew enough to question the validity of her words being dubbed actual insults.

“Angelic… is lovely, no?” he said, a slight frown wrinkling his brow, breaking up the smile for a moment. “What does this insult mean?” He had no real reason to think that she was lying. Maybe she wanted to have a bit of fun, or maybe she wasn't fully backing her team since she didn't like Quidditch. Regardless, once he found out what it meant, he could possibly use the "insult" during the game. It would be more entertaining and surprising if he was able to use the same kind of insults that they used in Britain. Insulting people in a language they didn't speak was so boring. Sure, it was fun to see the puzzled look on their face and leave the meaning of the insult to their imagination, but they wouldn't even be able to tell if it was creative or not.

Confusion accomplished! Hoodwinking... not so much. But hey ho, Margo’s plan wasn’t derailed quite yet. Improvisation was supposed to be her forte, and she wouldn’t give up without a good show. She remembered when she’d taken part in the nativity in primary school. The band of cluelessness seven year olds taking the stage may have been long ago, but it wasn’t was easy to forget. She’d tried so hard to get the role of the donkey, but instead they’d shoved her in a leotard and told her to be an angel. There was only one donkey — nobody else got to dress up in a onesie and make animal sounds. But no. She’d had to put up with wonky wings and an itchy halo taped to her forehead. No ee-or-ing and no onesie. It was safe to say she’d been upset...

Margo hastily ripped her thoughts away from unfair play casting and looked the Russian boy in the eye. Her acting had improved a lot since she was seven, thank goodness.

“Why yes, I’m glad we understand each other.” Margo relaxed her shoulders and met the boy’s gaze with ease. Trust me! screamed the oh so innocent curve of her nose. I’m telling the truth whispered the small smile dancing on her lips.

Margo began to present her evidence. She knew perfectly well how a good debate was won. You had to fool the other person into thinking you knew exactly what you were talking about. But, most importantly, you had to persuade them it was your way or the floo-way. “Angelic means heavenly and amazing — like me.” She began. “But deity is just like diet, so you’re using sarcasm to call the person really fat. It’s modern language, I’m afraid matey.” She grinned. “Just full of contradictions.” And, with an aura of complete and utter trustworthiness, Margo winked.

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A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

He had already established by now that she was clearly a native… why not trust her and give it a shot? She mentioned that they understood each other, and she looked trustworthy. She met his eyes without an issue! Wasn't avoiding eye contact and acting sheepishly supposed to indicate lying? She wasn't doing either of those. She looked relaxed, in fact. Therefore, she was telling the truth. He gave himself a very small nod, proud of his brilliant ability to draw realistic conclusions.

He had the meaning of angelic more or less correct, and she used herself as an example. The girl had an abundance of self-confidence but without being insufferably vain, and Slava liked that. She also explained things succinctly and clearly, in a matter-of-fact manner. He grinned. “So it is like you are calling them fat, I see…” There was still the possibility that she was just a troublemaker like him, but it would be a fun thing to use for entertainment even if she was lying. It could be a little tribute to the first Hogwarts student he met here. Eagerly, he continued, “How severe is this? Should I shout it at them or say it quietly?”

For some reason completely unknown to Margo, she didn’t feel as if she hated Quidditch stadiums quite so much any more. The hoards or people distracted by flying welcomed so many mischevious possibilities that she felt a little miffed not to have appreciated this before. But, no matter! This boy was offering her the perfect chance to amend her misconception... so maybe it would be best if she also found out his name. “I’m Margo, for the record.” She smiled innocently. “Without a ‘t’. If you start comparing me to an escargot I’ll be upset. In fact, insects of any kind are a no-go zone.” So maybe that wasn’t the best introduction to get the boy to take her seriously. Margo inwardly scolded herself. This boy spoke Russian, not French. She’d been waiting to spill that joke for months now, though...

Ah well, she’d better plough on with her plan. She wouldn’t want Slava to think she wasn’t 100% focused on embarrassing... helping him. “And you should definitely shout ‘angelic deity’ to any offending player. One hundred percent. I mean, look at me. Trust me when I say it’s best not to be seen as shy here. Got any courage under that mass of hair, Mr insert-name-here?”

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A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

Margo. The girl's name was Margo. “A fine name,” he said with a nod, trying not to laugh at her commentary about insects. He didn't understand what she was saying about escargots, but it must have been some sort of insect, judging by the comment that followed. She spoke slightly quickly—maybe it was her eagerness—but luckily he could still keep up.

Margo encouraged him to shout "angelic deity" at his opponents. Clearly it was an insult of even greater severity than "divine hippogriff" or whatever else it was that she had said. “I can tell that you certainly are not shy, and courage is practically my middle name. I would not have approached you otherwise.” He paused for a moment before giving his name in return, wondering if she'd actually comprehend it as a name and not just gibberish. British names seemed very different. “Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich, but you will sound crazy trying to say that, so please call me Slava.”

Margo mentioned that it was best to not be seen as shy here. Why was that? Was everyone at Hogwarts more like her, bold and confident? There were lots of students like that at Durmstrang, sure, but there were also the shy and reserved ones, and those who were uptight. Those types were always so boring… luckily, Margo wasn't like that.