Svitania ‘Vita’ Sýkora
The Exciting Existence of Svitania Sýkora
(It's more than just alliteration!)
Name:
Svitania ‘Vita’ Sýkora
Свитания Сикора
svih-TAN-ee-ah sikh-OR-ah
Means ‘Dawn bird’ or ‘Bird of the dawn’
Age: Thirteen
Year: Third Year
Blood Status: Half-Blood
Nationality: Slovak/Russian
Quidditch: No
Other: Plant Enthusiast, Aspiring Curse Breaker
The Thoughts of a Mirror:
Mirrors are shallow beings - which is strange if you consider that they don't have faces of their own. Fortunately, the mirror in Svitania’s dorm rarely sees her face. But when it does, it makes sure to remember all the physical traits that set her apart. Her masses of dark, curly hair hang unbrushed by her face and thick, flyaway strands are forever tainting her vision. But that isn’t what causes the mirror such woe. Oh no. Instead of seeking the mirror’s opinion every morning, Vita throws on her robes and leaves, her hem trailing after her on the cold stone floor. The lonely mirror longs for a different reflection from the same monotonous bedpost, but perhaps it’s best that it isn’t Vita who provides this relief. Her dark gaze could mar the fragile glass with its anger, and her thick, ungroomed eyebrows could upset the mirror’s delicate stomach.
Another reason why Vita’s face isn’t often glimpsed by the mirror is her height. The piece of furniture is awkwardly angled so that short girls can pick at warts on their noses (hey, no judging! We’re all witches here). Whilst most girl’s chins would at least be glimpsed in the reflection, Vita’s is not one of them. She’s taller than most due to her family’s strong genes. The Sýkora/Evanovich women aren’t your average damsels in distress. They’d jump into the action before the nearest man could even scream for help.
A Beginners Guide to Winning her Heart (nobody said it would be easy):
First off, if someone’s parents name their daughter Svitania, it doesn’t mean you should call them that. Her name is Vita, not some poetic nonsense about sunrise. But once you’ve correctly addressed her, it gets a little more tricky. Vita is under the impression that she doesn’t need anybody’s company to survive. If most people are going to be judgemental then why not ignore them all? I know what you’re thinking: why bother overcoming this minor mountain hurdle? Well, the contents of this independent witch’s heart might just surprise you. Underneath a lot of anger and nonchalance is, in fact, a sense of humour. Do or say something bold that highlights your disregard for modern stereotypes and you might just coax out her laugh.
Some say friendship is built on laughter, but for Vita, this is sadly not the case. A milestone? Sure. But not a bond. In order for her to actually like you (gasp), she has to understand you. Now, even though Vita isn’t an expert in the art of communication, she would still find the spilling of secrets on a first encounterance strange. So you have to have patience. Get to know her slowly through shared activities and moments. She’ll be wary at first, but if you’re kind and careful she won’t snap at you. If you like plants, talk about them. Babble and gush to the extreme because she won’t admit she loves them too if you don’t. Vita’s words are not her weapon, they’re a defence she uses when she feels trapped. Her body is her weapon. Growing up with three older brothers made her appreciate the exhilaration of a scuffle in the mud. Prickly as she may seem, she’s not averse to physical fights and competition. Challenge her.
The trickiest part of Vita is her emotions. Most of the time she knows her own heart, so if you question it, she’ll get angry. Her temper is hotter than a roaring fire, so it’s safe to say you’ll want to avoid this occurrence. There’s just one thing you need to remember: her emotions are hers, and hers alone. As long as you don’t analyse or challenge them, you should survive. But avoiding being attacked isn't winning her heart - you need to win her trust. Vita is someone who appreciates the notion of balance. If you put your faith in her, she’ll put hers out in the open too. However, she might take a while to decide if she can actually let you see her feelings. Making this decision is the hardest part. Once she’s chosen to like you, she’ll stay stubbornly by your side for the rest of eternity... but there’s still one thing you need to avoid.
Never insult Vita’s family. She may not hesitate to point out their flaws, but she does love them all the same. Okay, so her motherly love is questionable, but everyone has a favourite parent, right? If you’re invited to her house, then you know she trusts you. Not only does it emphasise the lack of a guiding female figure in her and her brothers' lives, but it's also the holder or Vita's biggest secret. As her friend, you will have noticed her passion for spell creation and dark magic, but as a person with eyes, you’ll also have realised that her family specialises in combat. So when they gush about their daughter’s 'fighting' future in the magical world, you will be able to see the reality behind Vita’s humourless mask. The day her school makes her choose between her family and herself will be a dark day indeed. All because of one little secret: she doesn’t want her birthright.
A Fairytale - The Witch and the Gypsy’s Daughter (and sons):
"In deepest Russia, where blizzards howled for half the year and the ground was barren and cold, lived a Witch. She had dark eyes that could freeze fire and tumbling blond curls that men wished they could touch. But no sane person ever cared about her looks, because the havoc she could wreak with her fists was so much more exciting. Throw in her magic wand and pristine bloodline and you had a nearly unbeatable opponent — that is, if you could bear to lay a hand on such a beauty. Unfortunately, however, some people didn’t like her attitude as much as her looks. Her sharp gaze chilled blood and her name instilled shivers among her peers. She enjoyed a good fight far more than she should have, and only stopped once blood had been spilt on the floor. Her name? Zoya Evanovich.
Zoya spoke three languages: Russian, English and Slovak. But it wasn’t until she was in her early twenties that she discovered her love for the last. Her parents owned a second estate in Slovakia which she often visited to escape her legacy. Behind a tall wooden fence to the East of the property was a small Roma settlement. Unbeknownst to her parents, Zoya liked to visit the gipsy folk once the sun fell from the sky and their bonfires lit up the night. It was on such an evening that she met Manfri. He was a man who loved his job more than anything, and once Zoya learnt what his profession was, she knew that she had to learn more. She watched as Manfri taught the local school children various martial arts, all with a giant grin across his face. The tattoos circling his wrists didn’t bother the youngsters and they liked to climb on his back before and after the class. When he accused Zoya of trespassing afterwards, the two fighters looked into each other’s eyes and immediately fell in love…"
At least, that was the bedtime story that Vita's father had recounted every night before she was ten. Her father was still the same warmhearted guy, but when he talked about her mother it was like he was thinking of a stranger. Whilst she had been dating Manfri, Zoya had landed herself a job hunting down dangerous Wizarding criminals across the globe. She lived for the thrill of the chase and the sweet tang of victory once she finally managed to track a criminal down. When she became pregnant, the few members of her family whom she hadn't cut off expected her to move into a more gentle career, but Zoya valued her freedom much more than she valued ease. She stayed in Slovakia for a year to raise her newborn child and departed just after her son's first birthday to continue her career. Manfri felt his heart ache every time she left him and their three children but knew that his job at the local school would not bring in the money required for them to attend Durmstrang. He thought of magic as God's gift and wished that he too had been born with the power to possess a wand.
So Vita grew up in with her father. She was a restless child, and always wanted to be outside with her older brothers in the mud. Ignác may have been closer to her in both age and temperament, but Miro was always her favourite. He held her back from following Ignác into the highest trees and the fastest rapids and showed her that the art of conversation could also entertain a walking mind. Miro alone could calm her temper, and often slung an arm around her shoulders like neither of them had a care in the world. Vita wrote to him constantly while he was away at school, yearning for gossip on the best fighters in his year. But much less welcome were the letters they received from her mother. Zoya's letters were packed full of information on her career and her latest catch, and whilst her father treasured them, Vita had a sinking suspicion that the woman prefered to chase the thrill of her next fight than be with her family.
When Vita first entered Durmstrang, she scowled. She had never been around many people and only bonded with her father's students because they liked to fight. Here, where so many students were from prestigious pureblood families like her mother's, Vita was lost. On her first night in the dorm, she set a potted plant on her bedside table for company. She'd always had slightly green fingers and had been the only child to help her father with the plants in their garden at home. The other girls didn't notice it for several days, but when they did, Vita insisted it had always been there. She watered it when they slept, unsure as to why she didn't want other people aware of her passion for nature.
It was only Vita's second week in Russia when she learnt her brothers' secret. She had been asked if she was an only child because of her unknown surname and had rushed to consult her brothers in confusion. It turned out that they were registered to the school as Miro and Ignác Evanovich -- using their mother's maiden name. When Vita looked to Miro for a smile and a kind explanation he wouldn't meet her gaze and muttered something about a higher success rate for purebloods. That was the first time that she ever turned her anger on her eldest brother. She shouted and screamed and they didn't speak for weeks. Vita's father was her only hero now, and he was non-magical. The siblings forgave each other in the end, but Vita made sure that this was something that she was never going to forget.
Vita thrived in herbology and any combat-related courses, of course, but the thrill that she felt when studying curses and darker magic surprised her. Everybody in Vita's family had taken the Magical Combat course for generations and there were even delegated spaces on her family's living room wall for the complimentary swords that she and her siblings would receive at the supposed completion of their combat training. But Vita grew to realise that she didn't want the weapon. Fighting may be her hobby, but Dark Magic would be her career. How to tell her family..?
Svitania Sýkora ~ Stats and Abilities
STATISTICS:
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 4
Strength: 6
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 10
Accuracy: 6
FIRST YEAR: MARTIAL ARTIST
SECOND YEAR: ADVANCED CASTING
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 4
Strength: 6
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 10
Accuracy: 6
FIRST YEAR: MARTIAL ARTIST
Reducio
Svitania may have arrived at Durmstrang without much knowledge of spells, but she was far from defenceless. Even as a toddler, she sucked her thumb on the sidelines of her father’s martial arts club, big eyes staring as the local school children learned to grapple and punch. When she was finally allowed to stand on the mats herself, Vita threw her heart and soul into living up to her legacy. She practised for hours on end, but could never quite manage to pull off her brother Ignác’s stealthy attack or Miro’s foolproof defence. Outwardly, she always laughed it off, but inside a jealous flame smouldered, mercilessly tearing at the walls of her heart. In this particular case, determination could not outshine talent, and she loathed herself for it.
But being the youngest child also had its advantages. Her two older brothers were never afraid to challenge her and this, along with her determination, made her strong. Whilst Miro would always stick to the rules and pick her up when she fell down, Ignác never refrained from playing dirty. A handful of mud to the face was one of the only ways she could win against her more mischievous brother, and it was down to him that she first learnt how to be sly. She snuck away with him around the town, playing games where they’d spy on the local children and throw stones without being discovered. This mirrored in her fighting where her father began to praise her on her lightness of foot and quick dodging. If only he knew how the skills first developed.
So Vita’s attacks were a mixture of Miro’s strong defence and Ignác’s sneaky offence. This balance between fight and flight hid the chips in her armour - the fact that she was not as fast as one brother and not as brawny as the next. Her father knew these flaws like the back of his hand, but he never compared her to his sons. Vita’s mother, on the other hand, was convinced that her daughter was just like her. She was sure that their rocky relationship was due to their similarity, not because of her daughter’s loathing of her absence. Vita dreaded the weeks where her mother would home. She knew it meant days upon days of verbal fights (her least favourite kind of sparring) and remarks upon their similarity. She spent more time than ever at the club whilst Zoya stayed at the house, as if she could take out her anger on a punching bag instead of her mother. She may not possess the same talent for fighting as her family, but she does love it.
But being the youngest child also had its advantages. Her two older brothers were never afraid to challenge her and this, along with her determination, made her strong. Whilst Miro would always stick to the rules and pick her up when she fell down, Ignác never refrained from playing dirty. A handful of mud to the face was one of the only ways she could win against her more mischievous brother, and it was down to him that she first learnt how to be sly. She snuck away with him around the town, playing games where they’d spy on the local children and throw stones without being discovered. This mirrored in her fighting where her father began to praise her on her lightness of foot and quick dodging. If only he knew how the skills first developed.
So Vita’s attacks were a mixture of Miro’s strong defence and Ignác’s sneaky offence. This balance between fight and flight hid the chips in her armour - the fact that she was not as fast as one brother and not as brawny as the next. Her father knew these flaws like the back of his hand, but he never compared her to his sons. Vita’s mother, on the other hand, was convinced that her daughter was just like her. She was sure that their rocky relationship was due to their similarity, not because of her daughter’s loathing of her absence. Vita dreaded the weeks where her mother would home. She knew it meant days upon days of verbal fights (her least favourite kind of sparring) and remarks upon their similarity. She spent more time than ever at the club whilst Zoya stayed at the house, as if she could take out her anger on a punching bag instead of her mother. She may not possess the same talent for fighting as her family, but she does love it.
SECOND YEAR: ADVANCED CASTING
Reducio
The Evanovich family had never been particularly skilled with magic. They were famous because of their wealth, their estates, their name. None of them expected Zoya’s half-blood children to wield much power with a wand. And they didn’t. Not until Vita came along.
Neither of Vita’s brothers had very exciting displays of first magic. Whether it was leaves circling in strange patterns or cushioning the fall off of a roof, they professed their power in ways that were easy enough to cover up in the muggle world. Vita, however, was much less discreet. Her tantrums split stone and when she was uncomfortable, rooms often found themselves raining. Her father had a hard time covering her sudden outbursts and often thanked his lucky stars that she didn’t attend the local muggle school.
So she only learned what her parents taught her. The single subject which Vita actually liked to discuss with her mother was magic. She pestered the woman endlessly about spells and their functions, often trying to harness her magic through sticks in the nearby forest - a feat which unfortunately failed. Growing up in the muggle world had only made her all the more curious about the power that came with a wand. She tried and tried to hone her skills before she left for Durmstrang, hours upon hours spent trying to move the punching bag in the club without the aid of her fist. But it never worked. She was terrified that she’d found another passion that she wasn’t talented enough to pursue. She could imagine her magic boiling beneath her skin all she liked. But it didn’t make it real.
When she finally entered the halls of Durmstrang, Vita was incredibly nervous. She threw herself into her studies like she threw herself into fighting, except this time she had no motive but to learn. Her textbooks were some of her best friends, and she would mutter spells under her breath before she slept every night. They comforted her in a way that fighting never could - alighting a flame in her veins much more permanent than the fleeting thrill of a good spar. As the years passed, she realised that she didn’t want to study combat like her family. She had discovered that she was good at magic. It was a skill that was so much more forgiving than the martial arts. Her practice paid off like it never had with a punching bag, and Vita found herself victorious. Tinkering with magic made her happy. The dark depths of remote possibilities and unbroken curses called to her in ways that fighting did not. She wanted to be the best, and this time, there was nothing in her way.
Neither of Vita’s brothers had very exciting displays of first magic. Whether it was leaves circling in strange patterns or cushioning the fall off of a roof, they professed their power in ways that were easy enough to cover up in the muggle world. Vita, however, was much less discreet. Her tantrums split stone and when she was uncomfortable, rooms often found themselves raining. Her father had a hard time covering her sudden outbursts and often thanked his lucky stars that she didn’t attend the local muggle school.
So she only learned what her parents taught her. The single subject which Vita actually liked to discuss with her mother was magic. She pestered the woman endlessly about spells and their functions, often trying to harness her magic through sticks in the nearby forest - a feat which unfortunately failed. Growing up in the muggle world had only made her all the more curious about the power that came with a wand. She tried and tried to hone her skills before she left for Durmstrang, hours upon hours spent trying to move the punching bag in the club without the aid of her fist. But it never worked. She was terrified that she’d found another passion that she wasn’t talented enough to pursue. She could imagine her magic boiling beneath her skin all she liked. But it didn’t make it real.
When she finally entered the halls of Durmstrang, Vita was incredibly nervous. She threw herself into her studies like she threw herself into fighting, except this time she had no motive but to learn. Her textbooks were some of her best friends, and she would mutter spells under her breath before she slept every night. They comforted her in a way that fighting never could - alighting a flame in her veins much more permanent than the fleeting thrill of a good spar. As the years passed, she realised that she didn’t want to study combat like her family. She had discovered that she was good at magic. It was a skill that was so much more forgiving than the martial arts. Her practice paid off like it never had with a punching bag, and Vita found herself victorious. Tinkering with magic made her happy. The dark depths of remote possibilities and unbroken curses called to her in ways that fighting did not. She wanted to be the best, and this time, there was nothing in her way.
A grin like a crocodile and a bob like a funny catfish
Svitania ‘Vita’ Sýkora
Svitania Sýkora ~ Stats and Abilities
STATISTICS:
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 4
Strength: 6
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 10
Accuracy: 6
FIRST YEAR: MARTIAL ARTIST
SECOND YEAR: ADVANCED CASTING
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 4
Strength: 6
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 10
Accuracy: 6
FIRST YEAR: MARTIAL ARTIST
Reducio
Svitania may have arrived at Durmstrang without much knowledge of spells, but she was far from defenceless. Even as a toddler, she sucked her thumb on the sidelines of her father’s martial arts club, big eyes staring as the local school children learned to grapple and punch. When she was finally allowed to stand on the mats herself, Vita threw her heart and soul into living up to her legacy. She practised for hours on end, but could never quite manage to pull off her brother Ignác’s stealthy attack or Miro’s foolproof defence. Outwardly, she always laughed it off, but inside a jealous flame smouldered, mercilessly tearing at the walls of her heart. In this particular case, determination could not outshine talent, and she loathed herself for it.
But being the youngest child also had its advantages. Her two older brothers were never afraid to challenge her and this, along with her determination, made her strong. Whilst Miro would always stick to the rules and pick her up when she fell down, Ignác never refrained from playing dirty. A handful of mud to the face was one of the only ways she could win against her more mischievous brother, and it was down to him that she first learnt how to be sly. She snuck away with him around the town, playing games where they’d spy on the local children and throw stones without being discovered. This mirrored in her fighting where her father began to praise her on her lightness of foot and quick dodging. If only he knew how the skills first developed.
So Vita’s attacks were a mixture of Miro’s strong defence and Ignác’s sneaky offence. This balance between fight and flight hid the chips in her armour - the fact that she was not as fast as one brother and not as brawny as the next. Her father knew these flaws like the back of his hand, but he never compared her to his sons. Vita’s mother, on the other hand, was convinced that her daughter was just like her. She was sure that their rocky relationship was due to their similarity, not because of her daughter’s loathing of her absence. Vita dreaded the weeks where her mother would home. She knew it meant days upon days of verbal fights (her least favourite kind of sparring) and remarks upon their similarity. She spent more time than ever at the club whilst Zoya stayed at the house, as if she could take out her anger on a punching bag instead of her mother. She may not possess the same talent for fighting as her family, but she does love it.
But being the youngest child also had its advantages. Her two older brothers were never afraid to challenge her and this, along with her determination, made her strong. Whilst Miro would always stick to the rules and pick her up when she fell down, Ignác never refrained from playing dirty. A handful of mud to the face was one of the only ways she could win against her more mischievous brother, and it was down to him that she first learnt how to be sly. She snuck away with him around the town, playing games where they’d spy on the local children and throw stones without being discovered. This mirrored in her fighting where her father began to praise her on her lightness of foot and quick dodging. If only he knew how the skills first developed.
So Vita’s attacks were a mixture of Miro’s strong defence and Ignác’s sneaky offence. This balance between fight and flight hid the chips in her armour - the fact that she was not as fast as one brother and not as brawny as the next. Her father knew these flaws like the back of his hand, but he never compared her to his sons. Vita’s mother, on the other hand, was convinced that her daughter was just like her. She was sure that their rocky relationship was due to their similarity, not because of her daughter’s loathing of her absence. Vita dreaded the weeks where her mother would home. She knew it meant days upon days of verbal fights (her least favourite kind of sparring) and remarks upon their similarity. She spent more time than ever at the club whilst Zoya stayed at the house, as if she could take out her anger on a punching bag instead of her mother. She may not possess the same talent for fighting as her family, but she does love it.
SECOND YEAR: ADVANCED CASTING
Reducio
The Evanovich family had never been particularly skilled with magic. They were famous because of their wealth, their estates, their name. None of them expected Zoya’s half-blood children to wield much power with a wand. And they didn’t. Not until Vita came along.
Neither of Vita’s brothers had very exciting displays of first magic. Whether it was leaves circling in strange patterns or cushioning the fall off of a roof, they professed their power in ways that were easy enough to cover up in the muggle world. Vita, however, was much less discreet. Her tantrums split stone and when she was uncomfortable, rooms often found themselves raining. Her father had a hard time covering her sudden outbursts and often thanked his lucky stars that she didn’t attend the local muggle school.
So she only learned what her parents taught her. The single subject which Vita actually liked to discuss with her mother was magic. She pestered the woman endlessly about spells and their functions, often trying to harness her magic through sticks in the nearby forest - a feat which unfortunately failed. Growing up in the muggle world had only made her all the more curious about the power that came with a wand. She tried and tried to hone her skills before she left for Durmstrang, hours upon hours spent trying to move the punching bag in the club without the aid of her fist. But it never worked. She was terrified that she’d found another passion that she wasn’t talented enough to pursue. She could imagine her magic boiling beneath her skin all she liked. But it didn’t make it real.
When she finally entered the halls of Durmstrang, Vita was incredibly nervous. She threw herself into her studies like she threw herself into fighting, except this time she had no motive but to learn. Her textbooks were some of her best friends, and she would mutter spells under her breath before she slept every night. They comforted her in a way that fighting never could - alighting a flame in her veins much more permanent than the fleeting thrill of a good spar. As the years passed, she realised that she didn’t want to study combat like her family. She had discovered that she was good at magic. It was a skill that was so much more forgiving than the martial arts. Her practice paid off like it never had with a punching bag, and Vita found herself victorious. Tinkering with magic made her happy. The dark depths of remote possibilities and unbroken curses called to her in ways that fighting did not. She wanted to be the best, and this time, there was nothing in her way.
Neither of Vita’s brothers had very exciting displays of first magic. Whether it was leaves circling in strange patterns or cushioning the fall off of a roof, they professed their power in ways that were easy enough to cover up in the muggle world. Vita, however, was much less discreet. Her tantrums split stone and when she was uncomfortable, rooms often found themselves raining. Her father had a hard time covering her sudden outbursts and often thanked his lucky stars that she didn’t attend the local muggle school.
So she only learned what her parents taught her. The single subject which Vita actually liked to discuss with her mother was magic. She pestered the woman endlessly about spells and their functions, often trying to harness her magic through sticks in the nearby forest - a feat which unfortunately failed. Growing up in the muggle world had only made her all the more curious about the power that came with a wand. She tried and tried to hone her skills before she left for Durmstrang, hours upon hours spent trying to move the punching bag in the club without the aid of her fist. But it never worked. She was terrified that she’d found another passion that she wasn’t talented enough to pursue. She could imagine her magic boiling beneath her skin all she liked. But it didn’t make it real.
When she finally entered the halls of Durmstrang, Vita was incredibly nervous. She threw herself into her studies like she threw herself into fighting, except this time she had no motive but to learn. Her textbooks were some of her best friends, and she would mutter spells under her breath before she slept every night. They comforted her in a way that fighting never could - alighting a flame in her veins much more permanent than the fleeting thrill of a good spar. As the years passed, she realised that she didn’t want to study combat like her family. She had discovered that she was good at magic. It was a skill that was so much more forgiving than the martial arts. Her practice paid off like it never had with a punching bag, and Vita found herself victorious. Tinkering with magic made her happy. The dark depths of remote possibilities and unbroken curses called to her in ways that fighting did not. She wanted to be the best, and this time, there was nothing in her way.
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