10th July, nice afternoon,
@Henry Knight
@Ruby Cazares, please join whenever

The light breeze lifted Margo’s hair slightly off her shoulders as she walked, a rare, natural smile gracing her features. She allowed her mind to wander to the prank she had played with Slava a few days prior and her smile widened even further. Really, was it actually healthy to spend so much time thinking about someone she hadn’t known just two weeks ago? The reality was, Slava was just so hard not to think about. All that charisma, humour... that breathtaking grin. Well, Margo had yet to find something even remotely similar in another person.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try. She was a free bird, and her thoughts changed like the wind, or, at least, they usually did. At the moment, however, an unstoppable reel of Slava’s jokes was on repeat in Margo’s mind. And she found that, actually, she didn’t mind.

Bah, what was she suggesting?! She wasn’t some mooning girl who allowed herself to get distracted by some decently looking boy! She flitted around boys like the leaves in the breeze, not some victim compelled by a hunter. And look, here was a different, non-Russian boy who she could use to prove it. And he wasn’t bad looking either. Perhaps a bit on the young side with nicely tanned skin and compelling blue eyes. For a second, Margo found herself comparing them to Slava’s brown gaze. The boy’s eyes didn’t glimmer with mischief like Slava’s did, nor did their depths force Margo to stare until she was forced to blink. But overall, they’re were still interesting, and interesting was what held Margo’s interest, not some strange, unrelated tugging in her stomach.

But Margo wasn’t really approaching the boy for an analysis on his looks — she was searching for some interesting conversation. Slava wasn’t the only one she could banter with, after all.

”Well hello there.” She remarked towards Mr. Blue Eyes. ”Mighty fine day... though somehow you make it look pale in comparison.”

But somehow Margo’s usual mischievousness wasn’t feeling so good. She slumped down beside the boy. She was probably just too hot, was all. ”The name’s Margo, by the way.” She shot him a grin. It wasn’t noticeably lacklustre, but for a certain someone else, it might have been slightly brighter.

---

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

@Henry Knight

The boy... didn't actually look like he'd been attacked by a girl with messed up feelings and wild blond hair. Which was strange, because that was exactly what had happened. In fact, he had responded shockingly smoothly, and Margo was almost taken aback at his similarly flirtatious reply. His compliment was well placed and something she was sure she could find a million witty responses to. And yet... something still didn't feel right.

Margo shrugged it off. She was probably just feeling the aftereffects of not eating that doughnut with her name on it after lunch. Hunger hurt. But, for some reason, the hurt seemed to diminish a little when she thought of her and Slava's epic doughnut prank. Margo didn't know if the Russian boy felt the same, but she was still basking in the slight of their success. Well, mostly a success. Perhaps the tiniest of guilt had wedged itself in her mind, but, for the most part, her thoughts danced in victory. Besides, hot sauce was a completely recoverable poison, or so she'd heard.

Margo shook off the happy thoughts in her mind and looked Henry dead in the eye. "Why your gaze isn't half fascinating either." She winked. "Say, are you Hogwartian?" Margo cocked her head to the side. His accent did sound British, but it was a far cry from her friend Ruby's crisp London tone.

---

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

@Henry Knight

Okay, this boy was smooth! Margo was slightly worried. What the heck has she gotten herself into here? But, well, she could hardly back down now. Things were becoming fierce, and in her eyes, this had turned into a fully fledged compliment battle. She was a free bird, free to enter in strange, flirtatious conversations with weirdly confident boys... even if it did leave a slightly bad taste in her mouth.

”I wouldn’t be so quick to judge if I were you.” Margo smirked. “I’m a second year Slytherin because, though my mind is brilliant, my wit and cunning are much more... luminous.”

Margo paused. Henry was extraordinarily confident, even if the words he said weren’t entirely true. If his hair had been darker and curlier, and his accent Russian, she would have proceeded to point out all the flaws in his logic. But Henry wasn’t Slava, and they were having a compliment battle, not a smartass one.

“You think I’m classy?” Margo laughed. “Why, you, mister, are obviously the classy one here. I mean, how many other boys can be that smooth? I’d hazard a guess at not very many.”

Margo twirled a strand of her hair around her finger for effect. She was growing worried that Henry might become difficult to shake. But then, she had given him the impression she was interested, after all — even though she didn’t hold the desire to have another flirtatious conversation at all. Not with him, anyway. With Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky, on the other hand...

---

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

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

A breeze blew through Slava's curls as he wandered aimlessly. With no plans for today, he had taken to wandering in the hope that he came across someone interesting to have a conversation with or to annoy, and he didn't mind which. He just wanted some entertainment on this day when no activities were being hosted, and he was being considerate for once by letting his tentmates have a bit of a break from him.

His thoughts were drawn to the marvellous prank from a few days ago that he had pulled with the assistance of one of the girls from Hogwarts. There was absolutely no denying it, she was the marvellous one. Compared with her brilliance, Slava was just an assistant. Truthfully, he was hoping that he would be able to find her out here today. He had so much to tell her! Well, not really, but he figured they could work something out. He just wanted to see her, to be around her. It felt like he was thinking about her all the time.

It was so strange. He had friends, he had his brother, he thought about mischief or pranks a lot, and he had flirted with people both recently and in the past, but nothing and no one had consumed his thoughts quite this much until now. He still loved hanging out with others and doing things that he enjoyed, but occasionally he felt like he'd rather be with her, or that whatever he was doing would be better if she was there.

Margo. Her name was unforgettable, etched deeply into his mind. Perhaps the thought of her had been a call that had successfully summoned her, because Slava glimpsed the telltale blonde hair and the confident pose and figured that it was her. If it wasn't, this would be awkward, but he wasn't one who was easily embarrassed by silly little mistakes. “Margo!” he called eagerly as he jogged over. He then noticed that she was talking to someone, which was perfectly fine—more people for him to make friends with! As he drew nearer, he caught snippets of the conversation, and he realised that maybe these two weren't just friends.

They were flirting. Shocked, he took a step back and he couldn't stop his face from falling in disappointment. Why did he feel like this? They were just friends and he didn't normally care when his other friends were flirting with others or being flirted with… but that didn't change the reality of what he was experiencing. It hurt. Brown eyes widened with surprise and confusion and he blinked a few times, not knowing what to do. He could lash out at the boy, but that would accomplish nothing. “I-I'm sorry… I did not know you were busy,” he stuttered, raising his hands in surrender as he backed away.

By the time his back was turned, his resolve had hardened. He could flirt better than that boy ever could! He would show Margo… yes, that was right. He would impress her. The spark in his eyes was rekindled and the bounce returned to his step as he began to plan with a small grin.

Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky has left the thread unless stopped.

Margo's confidence wavered at the sight of Slava. What was he doing here? and, more importantly, What had she done to make him look so much like a deer caught in headlights?

Margo glanced towards Henry. The awkwardness in the air was almost thick enough to taste. But what she couldn't figure out was why.

Why did she smile at Slava's dark curls and not Henry's tousled style? Why did she notice the widening of his eyes and not the pretty blue of Henry's? They were friends, weren't they? Margo and Slava, Slava and Margo. Epic pranksters, diabolical duo. There was a connection there that she didn't have with anyone else. Besides, there was that funny aura about Slava. A pull that Margo didn't know if anyone else felt. It drew her to him, to snark and laugh together, to have fun...

It was probably just the mystery of his home country, Margo decided, the foreign twang to his voice that she found oh-so-intriguing. Her soul chased adventure and mystery, did it not? And Slava Preobrazhensky, well, he was practically the human equivalent.

But that didn't make it easy to talk to him when the air felt it was suffocating on things left unsaid.

“I-I'm sorry… I did not know you were busy,”

Slava apparently, felt the same.

Margo had to fix this.

"Wait!" She called eyes fixed on Slava's retreating form. "Um, it was nice meeting you too, Henry." Was it bad that she was glad he was gone? Worse that she couldn't wait for him to leave?

"Slava." She turned to the Russian boy. This was about him now. Her friend.

Margo's lips frantically tried to form words. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing another prank?"

No! C'mon Margo, you can do better than that!

"Wait! That's not what I meant." She took a deep, steadying breath. Even the wildest of adventurers had to ground themselves sometimes. "We're friends, right? G-good friends." Now why did that word make her feel so miserable?

"I mean, we don't restrict each other and we make a great team. At least, that's what I think." Merlin did she hope Slava agreed.

Margo ploughed on. She'd finish this and damn the consequences. "You should know that Henry, the guy who just left, well, he's not that person for me. He was confident in a way I didn't really understand, because, obviously, my confidence is unbeatable." A ghost of a smile flitted across her face.

"But I'd like us to be confident together again. I mean, I'm not doing anything for the rest of the day..."

Margo finally allowed her gaze to meet Slava's. Amber meeting chocolate. "Independent together?"

---

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

RPing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Preobrazhensky

Slava turned around, facing the two students who had called him back by asking him to wait. A wariness was in his eyes but the smile lingered on his face as he listened to what they were saying. First, it was the unfamiliar boy, who told Slava that he was just leaving. A flicker of hope danced within him at the boy's apparent eagerness to leave—while he was indignant about the fact that someone wanted to part with a person as great as Margo, it also meant that maybe there wasn't something going on between the boy and Margo, and it had only been light-hearted flirting that didn't have any significance in the long run. Margo's unenthusiastic farewell to the boy—Henry—only confirmed that further.

She then turned to Slava and addressed him with his name. “That is my name,” he said teasingly, chuckling in an attempt to lighten the mood slightly as he waited for what she actually wanted to say. She invited him to do another prank and he tilted his head to one side, opening his mouth to accept it, but then she withdrew the request. She asked if they were friends and Slava nodded, confused. “Yes, of course…” He listened carefully as she went on to say that they were a team, which was something he nodded more enthusiastically to. He wasn't quite sure what she meant by Henry not being the right person for her—had Henry restricted her? He would have to make a note of that if he had.

She finally smiled again, which was good to see and as beautiful as ever. What wouldn't he do to catch a glimpse of that smile? “Not by me?” he questioned with a grin in response to her claim of having unbeatable confidence. He let himself stare back into her stunning amber eyes, eyes that he could get lost in but somehow simultaneously made him feel like he knew more than ever who he was and where he was meant to be. “Independent together,” he repeated in agreement, despite not totally understanding. Weren't those words polar opposites? But perhaps that was what was so great about it, the two friends weren't exact copies of each other, yet they fit together to form something a little unusual but very liberating.

“We need a handshake,” he declared suddenly. “A special handshake.” What he was trying to say was that they should create a secret handshake. He wanted to shake on the notion of being independent together but someone as amazing as Margo deserved something out of the norm. Forming a secret handshake would be the ultimate sign of a true friendship as well as sealing their agreement to make it more legitimate, at least in Slava's eyes. “Next?” What would come next, indeed? Did Margo have ideas for something to do or would this be the end of their interactions for today?