After the summer of grueling physical training, the international competitions and pranks wars in London, and the soon approaching trip to Scotland to compete in the first trial, it could be said that being the Durmstrang champion had consumed Yefim's life. If he wasn't actively working towards being a better champion, he was supporting his team in becoming better teammates, or talking about his training to news reporters and boring suitors coming for his mother. All of his instructors had taken him aside at one point or another to instill in him the importance of their craft, though Yefim did not humor adults by choice. Though he was a god reborn, he was still within a flesh vessel which had its limits. He couldn't drop out of school, he couldn't hurt anyone too badly, and he couldn't tell adults they were stupid, and that he had no intention of ever taking their lame advice. It was this conundrum that had his free time crushed and tightly packed, which over time would find its casualties.

For one, he never really got to be with Mikael anymore. When he turned ten-years-old, it had already been understood that Yefim would attend Durmstrang, both his parent's alma mater. That was the last year he lived with his father, before he disappeared from his life. It was hard not to think of Mikael and his father at the same time, and not just because his father's name was Mikhail. That year had been a testament to Yefim's will, and his strength to endure the nature of being a god. He would need to triumph past suffering, and exist above attachment. He learned how to appease the adults while remaining true to himself, and how to devote himself to chaos and anarchy, as was his foretold destiny. Mikael was a major part of that, having been the only person in the school who would give him the time of day. The mockery, the wanton aggression, and the degradation required to survive puberty was hard enough, and yet it managed to be harder still by the demanding school and its ruthless competition. Yefim adapted, but it was hard to say whether he would have survived to eleven, had he not had a friend.

Back then, the two were merely outcasts who found each other on the bottom rung. Unwanted. Though they were from different homes, and had different personalities, the familiarity would be inevitable. Eventually Mikael would hear all the things that Yefim's father had told, right at the same impressionable age as he was. They would sign signals by hand across the hallways to rendezvous at a hidden location on the grounds where they could sit in peace without being harassed for one thing or another. It was nothing special, just a place tucked away out in the cold, slightly sheltered by heavy, tough shrubbery. There, they could sit in silence, talk about what they could do with the power this godhood would grant them, and sometimes even cry a bit. For that whole year, they had very little, but they did have each other. That had never changed, until now.

These nostalgic feelings would ignite once he returned to the halls of the school again after being away for so long. The colors, the smells, the noise all never changed, year to year. This flame would be kindled by his errant thoughts, until he felt he couldn't bear it any longer. After a mandatory meeting he had with one of his martial artist instructors, Yefim ran around the known haunts of his beloved Mik until he finally spotted him in a large crowd. He could call out loudly from the balcony above, putting his hands out front with his thumbs crossed and locked, like his spread out fingers were the wings of a bird. This was how he knew where to meet up without needing to be told, a necessity when the spot was supposed to be secret.

That accomplished, he would go and wait in the spot until Mik showed up. It wasn't like he wouldn't show up, he promised he would never betray him. And besides, they were bound together for eternity now. Yefim needed something from him, and he didn't know what it was, but he knew he needed to see him again. The lingering thoughts about the past couldn't be coincidence-- it must have been premonition. He would understand eventually, likely after the two of them had a chance to talk again. If anything, just being away from all the hustle was already relaxing. Being in peak condition and moving at a fast pace suited Yefim, but there were limits even for him.

Song Inspiration

Mikael could not help but feel more alone within the halls of their school. So empty despite the number of bodies about him. As he sat through his classes, the slow drawl of normality chewed at his bones. Every audible sound a classmate made grated his very being. Every cough. Every sniffle. Every scratch of the paper. It was almost too much. Maybe it was because of everything that happened during the summer. It would be stupid to not understand that something within him had fundamentally changed. A dull numbness spread throughout his body. It took so much effort even to hold his pen between his fingers. It took so much effort to even stay rooted to his seat. How much he would rather dip beneath the confines of his mind. The boy wiggled the feather pen up and down between his fingers as he thought deeply about his mind and the thoughts that pulled forth into the front of his mind.

Not too long ago he had been scared, honestly terrified, at the thought of slipping underneath the watery oppression of his mind. Now he could not lie that he felt little to no fear. The pull of his mind was strong, and it was becoming easier to just let it take him where it wanted. For what could he really do against the being who watched him while he slept? He knew that the being was trying to garner his attention. As confusing as the way it tried to go about it. Though, what it wanted from him was unclear. Maybe the mystery was why he no longer feared the dark depths of his mind. Though, he had an inkling the being had made it so. It was trying to test him. For what purpose, he was unsure.

It seemed that a lot of things had been testing him lately. Mikael gritted his teeth as he slowly remembered what had happened between him and Valentin only a few days ago. The interaction had plagued him since that day. Taking up every fiber of his being. Forcing him to focus only on what the boy had said. If he thought hard enough, he could still feel the way the boy's cold hands wrapped tightly about him. Such a dangerous white snake he had been. It had primed its teeth with poison and had prepared to latch onto his throat. The very thought made him shutter, and a primal urge to rub at his throat overcame him. "Mr. Halldorson I would hurry lest you want to be late for your next class."

Mikael let his hand drop from his throat as the Professor's words infiltrated his mind. The classroom was devoid of life except for the regal hardass in front of him. The Professor stood tall up by the chalkboard. Staring him down like an insect. The boy swallowed thickly as he picked up his bag. Thrusting his blank parchment into his bag. Mikael threw his bag over his shoulder as he quickly made to exit the room. "At the rate you are going Mr. Halldorson, I would be very surprised if you make it to graduation." came the cold tone of the Professor. Mikael furrowed his brows, the man's words bringing him pause, and yet no words came forth. He knew he should try harder. The Professor was not wrong, at this rate, he really was digging himself an early grave, and yet.. And yet, he could not find himself caring enough to. The boy continued out of the classroom, refusing to look back at the Professor.

Mikael walked down the hallway to his next class. Bodies filled the hallway, hurrying about like flies as they tried to rush to their respective classrooms. The boy's gaze was fixed heavily upon the store flooring. Doing his best to avoid the eyes that were around him. His body felt hot as he walked by. The eyes burned holes through his clothes and skin. It hurt so much that it was practically impossible to carry on. The boy pulled to the side, leaning against a pillar as he made his distance from the hoard of students. Mikael's gaze shot up as he heard his name being called from above. A sense of awe overtook him as he looked up at his friend, his god.

Purpose flowed through him. Calming the ever-tempest that rocked back and forth in his mind. Mikael's hands would follow upwards to copy the signal the dark-haired boy gave him. A feeling of safety overcame him, as well as a sense of unease. He knew what he needed to do. He had to tell his god what threats were about him. Even at the detriment of the white light. The reasoning was lost to him. All he knew was that Yefim had to be protected, at all costs. Mikael's hands would fall limply to his sides before turning about to make his way to his and Yefim's secret spot. Classes could be damned this was far more important.

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