==

Writing as approved Durmstrang iNPC Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Preobrazhensky

Saturday, September 2, 2023, mid-morning
Private to @Alan Vanes as Nichlas Forsberg
Resulting from Not All That Glitters Is Gold

Content warning: This thread contains excessive swearing/strong language, aggression/intensity, and (non-severe) violence.

There was an extra bounce in Slava’s step during the first few days of school—while he loved being at home at the pub with his family, he couldn’t bear to be away from his friends for so long and there were many fun opportunities at Durmstrang that he just couldn’t have at home. While there were still plenty of people to interact with and learn from—stories from travellers in the pub were some of his favorite things to hear about—it just wasn’t the same. They were most often adults, and Slava needed to be around people his own age. He needed his friends, he needed his teammates, he needed companionship and childishness and fun. So yes, he was happy to return to the cold school that he considered a second home, even if he didn’t particularly like the fact that it meant homework again.

Bright smiles and cheerful hellos would characterize his behavior towards others in the hallways, whistling a tune as he went, completely ignoring the icy stares he received from some of the less friendly students. He was back in action! Nothing could bring him down. He hopped up the stairs, wandering over to the tower that contained the boys’ dormitories, pausing as he momentarily forgot why he was there. Oh yeah. He had to check the result of a prank. Mulling it over, he realized he hadn’t really thought through how he was going to do that—it was a Saturday, Nichlas could be anywhere in the castle, why would he be in the dorms specifically? Rubbing his forehead, he paced back and forth.

Well, regardless, by the time their next Quidditch practice rolled around, Slava would surely receive his reaction, if not before then. But what was the harm in sticking around here for a little while in the event that Nichlas did pass through here? Slava was particularly jittery today, restless energy manifesting itself in excessive fidgeting and making it hard to focus on any one thought. Man, he had to get out on his broom or something this afternoon. Nevertheless, he was incredibly curious about Nichlas’s reaction and hoped that their paths would cross. After all, the point of the glitter bomb was not just to disrupt Nichlas’s order, but to provoke him, eliciting a reaction. And that was no fun if he didn’t get a chance to see it.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian

Nichlas was making his way back to the tower in which the male population of Durmstrang resided, having just spent class after class still picking the lost sparkle of glitter from his skin or clothes or anywhere really. It has gotten him stares and not the ones he was used to, almost as if they seemed puzzled that perhaps Nichlas must be going through something since glitter was not his style, especially if said glitter was the color of a hot pink. He could do without such humiliation and worse chaos. He still had to regularly go through his clothes and things all over simply because he had found more and needed to check his stuff again. Yet no matter how often that he did check his things, there was always more to be found at a later point. His hair still sparkled, especially if caught just right by the sun light and it was growing on his nerves and he wanted rid of it.

During the aftermath of his incident he had first tried avoiding leaving his room, but finding that an impossible and silly feat as he did not cave in so easily, he had moved on to act as if nothing had happened and that everything was in complete control. His sister must have lost it and he didn't even wish to remember the conversation and questioning that had followed. He had relentlessly tried to rid himself of any trace of glitter during the days following up until the day he had to leave for Durmstrang and while by the time he made it to the Institute the worst was over it wasn't over enough. Nichlas was aware and so were enough as the stares seemed almost unbearable and his dorm room was a mess. It took him a whole lot of cleaning to make it appear just somewhat orderly enough and any speck of glitter he found was immediately eliminated. He was fed up and frustrated beyond reason all while trying to keep face and act normal, casual as if everything was just perfect.

He's had however time to brood and forge revenge plans from the moment he had received this attack on his order and dignity. He had said Slava would pay for this and who was he but a guy that kept his promises? As his plan but slowly fell into place a grim satisfaction battled with the lingering annoyance as he plucked yet another piece of glitter off the cloth from his uniform, clashing with the red of his uniform and general mood.

It was when he had made his way to the tower that he spotted a familiar figure that looked awfully chipper for someone who had prodded a sleeping dragon, or shark as people seemed to prefer and Nichlas schooling his features to seem less annoyed with life right now, chose to instead give one of his sharp smiles as he approached the smaller boy with long strides. "Slava," he greeted with equally feigned familiarity, "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. You look like you had a fantastic summer break!". Nichlas however looked far from impressed as he led the other boy away from the immediate crowd of students entering and exiting the tower at all times. Hopefully out of earshot of most curious students, Nichlas glowered at the boy in front of him. "Enlighten me, what made you daring enough to send me that letter of yours, are you aware of the cha-" he stopped himself and instead left him with the demand, in a pitiful attempt to seem almost unbothered, if not curious, but some of the frustration of the past days and the entirety of the aftermath of the letter was bleeding into his voice. Now where was his charm and the upper hand he had during their last encounter? But Nichlas at least managed to remain calm and somewhat smug. After all he did have an ace up his sleeve and Slava would regret messing with him. Finally he found his smirk again as he regarded the other kid almost innocently.

About a month ago this kid couldn't have been far enough away from him and the next moment, with a safe distance away, he tried and succeeded in pushing Nichlas' buttons as if suddenly he had nothing to fear. Had he gained any knowledge during the holidays that had given him somehow the upper hand in their encounters to be? Or was he simply more courageous from the safety of his home and a distance between them. Nichlas brushed his fingers though his hair almost absentmindedly only to grimace that when he withdrew his hand, lone glitter sparkles had found their way from his hair onto his hand. His hair was what probably had gotten the worst of it, that and his clothes as neither were ever gonna be one hundred percent glitter free ever again. Or that was what if felt like to him right now. He almost glared but battled with instincts, not wanting to give Slava that satisfaction of having bothered him to this extent. Instead he acted like one would, patiently waiting for an explanation as he stared down at the slightly younger boy.

==

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

Somehow, Slava was lucky enough to have Nichlas arrive in the vicinity moments later, although whether this was good luck or bad luck was currently ambiguous. As soon as the taller boy saw him, he headed straight over to Slava with one of his spooky smiles. Even just that sight should have been scary to Slava, but he was so completely filled with joy at the return to Durmstrang and with glee at what appeared to be a successful prank that the fear would simply have to wait. It took all of his limited self-control to keep from breaking out into an irritatingly big grin, biting his lip slightly to prevent it.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here." “Oh, I do agree.” Dark eyes shone with mischief, barely able to contain himself. "You look like you had a fantastic summer break!" “Why, in fact I did! I hope yours was equally as dazzling,” he responded pointedly, a bright grin taking over his face, entirely more cheerful than he probably should’ve been. He didn’t care about Nichlas’s unimpressed look as he willingly followed the Swede, who was leading him away from the most populated area. Really, that on its own should have concerned him, especially when paired with the dark look he was promptly fixed with. But he was so happy to have disrupted the perfection and order that characterized Nichlas—and evidently, he had done a good job, if he had earned that look.

It did occur to him, with a fleeting spark of fear, that Nichlas could just hex him right here, right now, and there would be absolutely nothing he could do about it. Hm. But any thoughts of applying more caution to how he interacted with the terrifyingly capable boy in front of him were quickly dispelled as one thought firmly planted itself in his mind: it would be worth it. Perhaps Slava wanted to show that he was not to be messed with either. The look on Nichlas’s face proved just how annoying the Russian’s prank had been, and it delighted him. It was a symbol of victory. Because he had just proven to himself that Nichlas wasn’t as perfectly detached as he seemed. He was intimidating and had thick walls, but he was still touchable. More importantly, Slava specifically could manage to get to him.

Oh, the taste of revenge was so sweet. "Enlighten me, what made you daring enough to send me that letter of yours, are you aware of the cha-" Nichlas broke off. “Hm? Please continue,” he prompted, a taunting gleam in his eyes. But it seemed Nichlas had no immediate intent to do so, so Slava would give him a particularly cheeky non-answer. Mustering every ounce of innocence that he could, he looked up at Nichlas with wide brown eyes. “Did you not like it? It was a gift sent to brighten your day.” And your clothes, and your hair, and whatever else can be touched.

Nichlas ran his fingers through his hair, only for a few pieces of glitter to be transferred to his hand. He tried to resume his intimidating stare, but it was too late—far too late. Slava was particularly attuned to things that gleamed, and he knew the telltale shimmer of glitter catching the light, if the color itself hadn’t already been enough to draw his attention. It’s still there? A huge smile spread across his face, quickly turning to uncontrollable laughter. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, cutting off his laughs with a cough. Slava had never had a strong sense of self-preservation, his recklessness getting him into trouble many a time. Laughing at Nichlas was undoubtedly a bad move, but oh well, it had been done now. Slava would go bravely to the grave.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian

Nichlas' eyes narrowed upon being faced with the cheer and happiness that was much unlike the boy he had encountered on the benches during the Quidditch game against the Hogwarts Wizarding School. It was a stark contrast to the brash, defensive kid that had weighed each of his word on a scale on to determine them all bad. For a moment Nichlas found himself wondering if this was the personality that Slava tended to showcase to everyone but him (and apparently that other kid who had chosen to speak out against non purebloods at the wrong moment). A slight head tilt as he regarded Slava like one would something quite curious. The utter mischief was new and yet exactly like all the stories he had heard about. Equally expected would have been a prank like that if Slava had been anything but as rude as he had been during the Quidditch Match.

Right now he was allowing the other kid to have the upper hand and Nichlas was very much aware that he despised doing so. He wouldn't let the other kid mock him like that, not after turning the last days of his summer into such utter hell. It was odd enough for things to turn out in such a way, that he had dared to do so after being anything but scared during their previous encounter. What had he called him then? An enigma? And how proven to be true it seemed once more and Nichlas while intrigued would have liked to remain in control and thus would likely have to step up his game a little bit. He knew which cards to play but he didn't want to lose his hidden advantage too soon. It was much better to test the waters first and wait for the proper moment to place the trump card he had yet to reveal. Right now was hardly the right moment, not with Slava all jittery from feeling victorious.

"What an interesting choice of words, he responded after somewhat getting himself back together. He was ringing for control over his mind. Part of him wanted to hex the other kid, like he would have likely done with many others who had dared to cross him. But he was very much aware that if he did that he would lose all the entertainment he could get from sitting on the benches during the Quidditch games, spending his sweet time talking to Slava and looking for other buttons to press. It was like giving up a newfound game before he was finished with it. He also doubted that if he attacked Slava right there and then that his other plans of revenge could fall into place and of course there was the matter of Slava being not too shy to use his fists to settle argument. Well and if it came to that, Nichlas valued the handsomeness of his face too much to let such brutish things happen to himself.

"Oh, brighten my day you did. I wish there was a way to return such a kindness but I feel you would run for the hills again," he smiled sharply. Perhaps this would serve as a small reminder of who he was toying with. After all it might very well be in Slava's best interest to back down before Nichlas shrugged of the worries of what ifs and instead picked up his wand and cast a hex. Nichlas was known to settle many arguments in the school with nothing but his wits and a wand and if it came to that, then Slava would stand no chance against him.

What he however would not expect of the boy was to start with such a startling laughter and Nichlas narrowed his eyes at the boy in bewilderment. An expression that quickly turned into a scowl as he waited for the boy to calm down from the laughter. "I am glad you find yourself so easily amused, I am sure this means you see no issues in the arrangements I have made in your name," he said slowly, almost ominously, mirroring Slava's far too innocent smile from earlier. "You did after all miss me enough to spend your summer break thinking of me." Nichlas was very much aware that he was playing a dangerous game and tried to lure Slava with but enough curiosity to get suspicious of his change in mood and the mentioned things. Why, Nichlas had been busy in his plans of revenge and was just absolutely delighted at the prospect of wiping that huge grin off Slava's face. Nichlas smiled as he did when he first met Slava.

==

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

"What an interesting choice of words," Nichlas had said. In response, Slava just gave him the most annoying self-satisfied smile that he could manage. The small signs of irritation—the narrowing of eyes, the incredibly bland tone with a hint of a threat, the slight hesitation—fed Slava’s ego and made every second worth it despite his general aversion to Nichlas’s presence. To be honest, he was surprised he was getting away with this. Nichlas had seemed like the type to bite when prodded at, but maybe he had more tolerance than Slava had originally thought.

"Oh, brighten my day you did. I wish there was a way to return such a kindness but I feel you would run for the hills again." Okay, now that was more like he had expected. That was definitely a threat, right? Yeah, that smile certainly made it one. He wished those smiles would stop—they gave him chills. How was it possible for a smile to be so damn creepy? Perhaps it was some special talent Nichlas had to twist what should have been happy concepts into something worth fearing. Or maybe it was Slava doing the twisting. Never mind that, Slava had to respond, because "run for the hills again"? Again? Really? “I never ran,” he protested. What was he supposed to do, then, stick around with Nichlas specifically after the game was over?

Nichlas narrowed his eyes, scowling as Slava laughed. Oops. Even as he forced himself to stop laughing, he definitely wasn’t sorry. Quite the opposite, in fact. "I am glad you find yourself so easily amused, I am sure this means you see no issues in the arrangements I have made in your name." “Come on, it was funny. Glitter is fun.” Lighten up a little. But Slava knew his intentions had not been to entertain Nichlas. It had been to entertain himself. And oh, how entertaining it had indeed proven to be.

Then, finally, the rest of Nichlas’s sentence set in. Slava’s stomach dropped. His smile faded instantly, eyes narrowing and desperately searching Nichlas’s for any clues. “What arrangements? What the hell are you talking about?” There was an uncharacteristic edge to his voice, his heart racing. Damn it. Was there even any meaning behind his words or was he just trying to get under Slava’s skin? Either way, it was working. The words had been spoken slowly and carefully, almost as if Nichlas was trying to maximize their weight, and the innocent look paired with it really did not suit him. Well, shit. Slava could still just punch Nichlas in the face and run away, couldn’t he? But that would just be a temporary solution that would undoubtedly start something much worse, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with that.

He grimaced slightly. How could Nichlas make him genuinely scared with one carefully measured sentence? Just like that, there were holes poked in his confidence, leaving him scrambling to get a grip on his rapidly spiraling emotions. No teasing words came to mind, no way he could wriggle out of whatever the hell these “arrangements” were. Simply put, he had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. He frowned, staring up at Nichlas. He had the feeling that, unfortunately, puppy dog eyes and flattery wouldn’t be enough to get him out of this one. What had he expected, though? To mess with Nichlas Forsberg and get a smile in return? No, he had known there was the potential for this to go terribly wrong for him, but the joy of being able to affect Nichlas that much should hopefully be enough to tide him over. And he could handle whatever Nichlas could throw at him, surely.

His confidence started to grow back, regaining a little bit of normality in his feelings as he tried not to focus on that smile and instead focused intently on ignoring Nichlas’s general aura. Which was understandably difficult, given that they were still engaged in conversation together. "You did after all miss me enough to spend your summer break thinking of me." A smirk crossed his face, a bit of boldness returning. “I couldn’t have you losing interest before the next Quidditch practices,” he teased. That was most certainly an impulsive thought—had he actually taken some time to think about it, he would’ve realized it was a stupid comment that would probably backfire, but it had just been so tempting. It had been right there, practically begging for him to say it. And he had. But he wasn’t done speaking. “Besides, there had to be a reward for that particularly delightful conversation we shared thanks to you.” By that, he very clearly meant revenge for making him so uncomfortable, but he had the feeling that if he actually dared to use the word revenge out loud, Nichlas would find some way to make this far worse still.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

Nichlas didn't even consider his protest worth considering and so all he did was tilt his head just slightly in an almost act of considering, letting the quite a bit shorter boy wait for a response he would give with just the small amount of patience. "Well of course not, you had a team that relied on you. But you sure wished you could," there was no way of truly knowing what Slava was actually thinking, though Nichlas considered his wits advanced enough to have the mischief maker figured out. He had done his research and observed plenty reactions and yet there was an ounce of unpredictability about the boy that Nichlas was sure Slava himself hadn't even figured out yet. And one who acted recklessly on a whim, well Nichlas was sure he had to push more of the boys buttons to properly anticipate the workings of his mind. He would however be more on guard from now on, no more accepting any letters folded or hidden within an envelope of sorts from the impish prankster. Nichlas was quite sure he wouldn't let himself fall for another of his hoaxes in near future of possibly ever again. He had to, however, figure out wish button it had been that triggered the desire for revenge in Slava or whether that was his default response to being bothered. There were only few people he could ask about this that he knew of, to further his research on this particular matter. Actually, only one person came to mind. Well not that this was a pressing matter, he had more immediate things to address such as the boy who was trying to find his buttons to push and Nichlas was quite sure he wouldn't allow this to go on and thus let his gaze harden just slightly as he schooled his expression into a once studied mask and regarded the boy in front of him with a smirk.

"I am not surprised that you would find such an ordeal funny. There does not seem to be an ounce of order in your life," he allowed himself to say as e considered the boy in front of him with an unamused expression. There was something to be said about the jabs and banter they exchanged that surely would make their practice on the Quidditch Pitch together somewhat miserable and despite all of that the Swede almost looked forward to the change of pace and opportunity to figure out this riddle that had presented itself to him well about a month ago. He was quite sure of himself to be having the upper hand in any of this, which of course would only mean one thing and that he would win whatever this was coming to. A rivalry of sorts as he was quite sure that he had to make the other boy suffer. A game of sorts, that would be fun for him and him alone or so he would envision how their encounters would go from now on. And Nichlas didn't play fair or give warnings before doing. There wouldn't be any ominous letter that could foretell that a prank was incoming or a general harmlessness in his pranks.

"Oh there are things that get your attention? Why the arrangements I have made with your lovely Professor of course!" he almost replied gleefully, yet his smile remained sharp and his eyes focused. It was almost as if he was mimicking Slava's burst of emotion from earlier on but something about this was just not right. Not that Nichlas cared but it surely wouldn't help one's vision of something seeming absolutely wrong with Nichlas' vibes. Why he never was one to care if people found him strange and rather embraced the fact to be left alone by the masses. "You see as your friend I was quite worried about your grades in the subject and thus offered myself up as a tutor of sorts. I hear both your in theory and in practice performances are quite sub par and it seemed only right to help you change that!" As if for dramatic reasoning he allowed the words to sink in and gave them their precious moments. He wouldn't want things too go too fast for Slava's mind to process. And when he felt he had given him enough of a moment to consider the severity of the statement, Nichlas almost smirked as he regarded Slava again. "I went over your schedule and as theory is quite a bit more important to master before even considering actual duelling practice, I have allowed myself to look over your class schedule and got permission to use the classroom after dinner for about 90 minutes twice a week," he allowed himself to explain now more calmly, almost as if this was indeed a good deed and supposedly professional. He once more let Slava come to the conclusions he was hoping for. Like the fact that he had access to his schedule and even more importantly placed these lessons at the most inopportune times Slava could have asked for. Dinner time was cut so close to the end of classes that one barely had time to get things done in-between which usually only left the small time slot between after dinner and curfew to actually do something 'fun' around Durmstrang. Shortly after, about 90 minutes to be exact depending on how slow one ate, was when curfew would disallow any lurking around. Ot was quite devious and Nichlas had to give himself a pat on his back to have come up with this revenge towards the boy who had pushed one button too many. "Before you think of not showing up at all, attendance is of course mandatory and it would be quite a shame to see you admit defeat so easily," he ended his little explanation. Now to wait for the reaction, probably one that involved some amount of indignation and the quite possible use of loud words. But it was watching the roller coaster of emotions wash over Slava's face that he was most looking forward to. This was revenge and Nichlas was curious quite how many buttons he had managed to push to avenge himself for that little stunt Slava had pulled. A stunt which's consequences would follow Nichlas around for quite a while. So it seemed only fair that his prank would affect the glitter boy just equally as long.

"So you wish for my attention? I wonder if this makes you exceptionally reckless or just stupid," he replied almost thoughtfully when in reality neither of the options were meant to be a comfort and both were equally applicable and insulting. His eyes narrowed after giving his words a few moments to sink in, before allowing himself to regard Slava with a dangerous smile. "Well thanks to my small kindness I am sure we will have plenty of opportunity to talk from now on, I am sure you have much theory to catch up on, your grade history in Combat Magic is quite appalling," he offered in response with devious levels of fake charm.

"I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart Slava. We are friends after all!"

==

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

The pause before Nichlas responded felt like he was just making Slava wait. To be fair, that was probably exactly what he was doing, and it was annoying. "Well of course not, you had a team that relied on you. But you sure wished you could." Slava snorted. “You flatter yourself.” Despite his comment, the truth was that Slava was irritated by the accuracy of the statement. He knew it was true. Nichlas knew it was true. But that didn’t mean Slava had to admit it, and he wouldn’t. That would be surrendering, and while he would allow minor defeats to pass, he wasn’t going to roll over and submit to whatever Nichlas wanted just because he was scared.

"I am not surprised that you would find such an ordeal funny. There does not seem to be an ounce of order in your life." Slava smirked. “That’s exactly the way I like it. Keeps things much more interesting than whatever boring life you must lead. As a matter of fact, maybe you could use more glitter.” He reached into his pocket. In an incredibly impulsive, stupid move, golden glitter was in his hand in the blink of an eye. He lifted his hand up and blew the glitter onto the other boy. He was absolutely playing with fire and he knew it, but it was so irresistible, even if he got burnt. He enjoyed reactions from anyone, but it was so much more satisfying when it came from closed off, serious types. It was just so inviting. But he was reckless and foolish to be playing this game, because Nichlas didn’t mess around.

Immediately, he would begin to face the consequences as Nichlas started explaining his “arrangements”. "Why the arrangements I have made with your lovely Professor of course!" Slava didn’t think his eyes could get any narrower, the tension held clearly in his face as he waited for Nichlas to explain further. The taller boy’s expression was incredibly unsettling, his typical awful smiles compounded by the malicious glee that seemed to be present. And then it was revealed. Nichlas was going to be his tutor. Slava stared at him blankly. What? No. Nichlas paused, which was likely calculated, and the implications started to set in, accompanied by a sinking feeling of dread.

Head spinning, he barely heard Nichlas as he talked about Slava’s schedule, the only words that initially stuck being “before even considering actual duelling practice”. Duelling practice. With Nichlas. Nichlas, the eighth year who was known to be incredibly effective and brutal with his spellwork. All Slava had were his fists. He felt sick. How the hell had Nichlas managed to find a legal loophole to duel him—to punish him for being bold and stubborn enough to cross him? He could use pretty much any spell on Slava at any time and there was nothing he could do about it because it was “practice” that had been sanctioned by a professor. He felt like his life had been signed over.

Why couldn’t Nichlas just have hexed him here? A couple of awful spells to send him to the hospital wing would have done it. That would have been fine. Because the pain, however great, would have only been once. Temporary. Tutoring meant indefinite suffering, because it wasn’t just any old subject, it was the application of combat spells. The only class that he was still greatly struggling with, and also the one that could probably cause the most harm. He wished this was just some cruel joke, but he knew enough about Nichlas to know that he wouldn’t be messing around with something like this. He didn’t want it to be true. He wished for Nichlas to just knock him unconscious now and be done with it. He wanted to disappear. Dull eyes searched Nichlas’s face for some small mercy, but he would not find it. There was only cold smugness that had left Slava stunned into silence.

"Before you think of not showing up at all, attendance is of course mandatory and it would be quite a shame to see you admit defeat so easily." Rage. Pure, unfettered rage was the only way to describe the next emotion that crashed down upon him, burning through everything in its path. His hands balled into fists at his side. All this over some fucking glitter? “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you even want to spend more time with me? I’ll make sure you’re permanently covered in glitter, and you can take your stupid tutoring and shove it up your ass. I don’t need you. I don’t want your help.” "So you wish for my attention? I wonder if this makes you exceptionally reckless or just stupid." “Yeah, I take that back, you shithead.”

"Well thanks to my small kindness I am sure we will have plenty of opportunity to talk from now on, I am sure you have much theory to catch up on, your grade history in Combat Magic is quite appalling." “You’re not kind, stop pretending that this resembles anything of the sort.” A fire burned in his eyes, a desire to destroy this infuriating boy. “I promise you, you’ll fucking regret this.” "I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart Slava. We are friends after all!" “You most certainly are not my friend, and you never will be. Go fuck yourself, Forsberg.” And in another impressive display of impulsivity, Slava swung at Nichlas, aiming for his stupid face.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

There was beauty in anger, fascination in watching one's stubbornness completely unravel in the face of utter defeat. There was something utterly exhilarating about this whole ordeal as Nichlas regarded the boy in front of him. “You flatter yourself.” he heard and took in, inclined to agree with what was being said. Of course he flattered himself, that didn't make the things he said any less true. He had half a mind to say this but that would distract form his biggest revelation yet. He even allowed for the jab at his 'boring self' and his habits to keep away from the chaotically inclined. He had enough on his hands having to solve Ella's messes at all times, he couldn't exactly afford his own life to be in disorder too. That was until the little imp took to other methods and before Nichlas could intercept or expect it to happen bouts of golden glitter flew in his direction.

Nichlas inwardly screamed when the glitter hit his face, his hair and the uniform he had spent days picking clean of glitter until it was finally presentable again. There was a certain level of deviousness in this action that battled with Nichlas control to remain smug and keep a straight face. His lip twitched as he settled steely eyes on the boy and simply did not speak as anger almost consumed him. He had to keep quiet, stay in charge until his revelation, he needed to be in control for that or all victory he would have over Slava in that moment would be lost. And so he remained quiet, but there was a storm brewing behind his eyes as his mind as the glitter settled almost as if they were an attempt to off-set the storm that was brewing with their golden notes of sunshine and celebration. The image didn't fit, it was like puzzle pieces jammed from different puzzles jammed together; one that spoke of gloom and coldness and one that shone like the rays of glittering sunlight in the pink evening clouds. Nichlas almost had to force himself to speak again. To execute his plans, to reveal the arrangements he had made. Briefly wondering if the lack of smugness was just a tiny admit of defeat. However he was quick to push that thought down, to repress the notion that he could have given in even just slightly to Slava's torment. He wouldn't admit even a little defeat to the boy in front of him, there was always gonna be a bigger prank to play, a bigger reaction to cause. What fools they were to get involved with one another on that day on the Quidditch benches. It was but the first push to a line of domino stones that might as well now be forever intertwined in a game of push and shove, a back and forth in a battle of hatred, victory and stubbornness.

Nichlas had hardly ever felt hatred for anyone and he doubted this had pushed him far enough yet as he still grasped to that control over his mind and actions. His cunning and wits that had always aided him. But he felt like perhaps this boy was quite intent to push him until he lost the grasp on that too. Perhaps it wasn't hatred but it quite surely was on the best way to become the biggest rivalry of Nichlas' life yet. And the thought of that, he feared to admit, was unsettling at the idea they had just met. Both of them had settled into this game of push and shove almost naturally, too quickly and almost awfully predictable. There was no going back from this, neither of their egos would allow for this to happen. Better to safe face and remain on top of their encounters, to win and be untouchable. As he has ever been so why would he allow this to change now? Not even his sister, the one he considered closest to him could force such intense anger into his thoughts, into his being. He was walking the line of hatred, of desire to win this game they had so involuntarily created when Slava had sent that letter. They could have let it rest after their encounter at the Quidditch pitch, perhaps this would have saved both of them some trouble. But neither of them were known to shy away from difficult battles or trouble, quite the opposite in each their own way and perhaps that is what had lead to this.

Nichlas allowed himself to glare as he watched the emotions wash over Slava's face, almost able to see the gears turning in his head as he stumbled from one conclusion to the other and how with each conclusion the burning flame of anger and quite possibly hatred seemed to grow. There was quite a bit of profanity involved when Slava finally did open his mouth and Nichlas felt he ought to give himself a pat on his back to render Slava speechless for this amount of time. Of course when he did speak he never tried to deny it, knowing full well that Nichlas' plans allowed for no loop hole. He could only accept defeat and make the best of it, with threats that Nichlas had to take seriously. "Why how nice of you to be so vocal about your plans of revenge. I feel this first lesson you could take is to not reveal your plans to the enemy, perhaps this tutoring is more necessary than I thought and this might actually prove useful to you!" he drawled with satisfaction. It was banter of course, how was he to know quite how true this might prove in the future. This game they were playing, these reactions they were trying to cause and this urge to just do something. They could have just let things rest but neither of them seemed willing to do so for reasons neither of them could quite comprehend. And despite the anger, the promise of chaos and the idea of being the cause to invite said chaos into his life, Nichlas hadn't felt so challenged in quite a while. And with no doubt he knew that Slava, the one they might have named sunshine and glitter after, was quite feeling quite similar if one looked past the imminent anger and frustrations burning with passion behind those eyes.

"How would you know of kindness, if you have been anything but since I first spoke to you?" he said almost amused, before he saw movement flash before his eyes. Movement with the grace and precision, even in anger, that only a skilled beater could muster. In spite of trying to take a step back to avoid the connection of fist to jaw, there was a surety of aim that Nichlas couldn't foretell. He's never been hit, not like this. He usually avoided physical conflict of any sort because it was barbaric and quite beneath him. Of course he had angered people, brutes and duellists alike but he had rarely ever let it come to a fair encounter between them. It had earned him a reputation of ruthlessness he wasn't scared of, rather wore like a cape to scare of those that he might anger. Apparently it was not quite enough to leave an impression in Slava that he was not one you would want to start a fight with.

Anger overtook him as pain blossomed on his jaw and he could taste the slight amount of copper in his mouth as his lip split and his eyes narrowed. With barely a moments notice he had his wand mere inches away from Slava's throat. "I should curse you right here," he hissed as finally he too had his mask crack and was overcome by his emotion. While he was known for hotheadedness and impulsive decisions when it came to making sure he wasn't messed with, it was usually him who was in control. He didn't let his emotions get the best of him, ever and that almost amplified the anger he was feeling now. The loss of control almost as much at fault for his outburst than the feeling of pain and the dull ache that throbbed in his jaw. It took him some moments to see clearer, the pain almost a welcome reminder of what was happening as he was finally intent to let go of Slava and almost did so, but the glare remained as he tried to control his breathing, that must have sped up along the way like his quickened heartbeat. Adrenaline pumping through his veins as he considered pocketing his wand as gave a long glare to Slava.

==

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

The complete silence in the moments after the glitter was transferred to Nichlas spoke volumes. Slava wondered if he had gone too far as he was fixed with a steely gaze, unease creeping into the Russian’s blend of emotions. Nichlas was effortlessly intimidating, and those intense, cold eyes just made it worse, forcing Slava to transfer his gaze to the golden specks of glitter. That was much easier to look at than the silent, scary boy whose smugness was nowhere to be seen. The spark of satisfaction at impacting Nichlas and getting a reaction was still present for Slava, but his own mounting discomfort made it hard for him to enjoy the moment. How badly had he screwed up?

Dread was followed by anger as Nichlas’s plan to tutor him unfolded, certainly provoking reactions in Slava like they both seemed to chase. After Slava’s initial outburst of swearing, receiving Nichlas’s self-satisfied, calm response only fueled Slava’s anger. It felt woefully inadequate in the wake of the Russian’s profanity, and earned Nichlas a glare. “What does it matter?” Nichlas surely already knew that Slava would be plotting some kind of revenge and given that he had reacted so strongly to the onslaughts of glitter, it was obvious that Slava would do it again in the future. Whether or not Slava explicitly stated it made no difference—he was hardly revealing plans that weren’t already clear. But Nichlas had at least nailed the “enemy” part.

"How would you know of kindness, if you have been anything but since I first spoke to you?" Nichlas said, and his words were only proven by the fact that Slava was already in motion. After the feeling of the hit connecting, Slava backed away from Nichlas slightly, eyes still full of rage as he practically spat, “You don’t deserve my kindness.” Visually assessing the damage, it seemed there was blood by Nichlas’s lip, and the hit had surely been strong enough that it would leave bruises. Your “perfect” face isn’t so pretty now, huh? But he only had time for that one spiteful thought before Nichlas lunged at him, his wand pointed at Slava’s throat.

"I should curse you right here," Nichlas hissed, and the rush of fear only added to the overwhelming feeling of high adrenaline that Slava was experiencing. Blinded by anger and the thrill, Slava closed the distance between himself and Nichlas’s wand, the wood pressing into his skin. Savoring the break in the Swede’s untouchable facade, Slava stared directly into Nichlas’s eyes with ferocious intensity, chin tilted upwards in defiance. “Do it, coward,” he challenged. This had gone too far, he was too deep in it. There was no backing out. Not anymore. But with the utter disregard Slava displayed for his own safety, he had maneuvered Nichlas into a position where it was hard for the eighth year to win. Either he backed down, making his threat empty and letting Slava win, or he gave into the violent desire and demonstrated a lack of self-control, further shattering the perfect image that he seemed to like to maintain and showing Slava that it was easy to break through to unmanageable anger. Slava didn’t care either way. He just savored this moment of control, however brief.

Hex: #465c67 | English | Russian | Swedish

There was some innate frustration and anger bubbling just beneath the surface, always on the verge to just spill over and make both of them lose more of the control they had already unwillingly liberated in exchange for what was a showcase of raw fury and aggression. "What does it matter?" Slava almost said defiantly and the promise of hexing the other boy seemed so sweet in that moment. “Du lär dig aldrig, eller hur?” The Swede muttered in his Native tongue, finding an odd sense of comfort in the use of the language he had grown up with. A glee in knowing that the chances were slim that the other boy would know what was being spoken about. No matter how small the reprieve he would be accepting it with open arms as it gave him the upper hand of planning. This school was a melting pot of oh so many languages, Nichlas had long received the basic education in many of them just by vicinity to those speaking them around him. And while he would never claim proper understanding of most of them, he felt he could piece together the gist of many at this point in time. If Nichlas was known as one thing beside his ruthlessness and cunning, it was for his brains and the ability to absorb knowledge as if it were a light read. The collection and categorizing of facts and the ability to make another's knowledge his own.

"Then who 'deserves' your kindness, if it is you who makes the rules on who is deserving on such things? You should make a guide of it and hand it out, so you at least have the pitiful upper ground of 'I told you so'? he returned with almost an ounce of cruel amusement in his voice. He had condemned Nichlas to having the worst of intentions the moments he had laid eyes on him, claimed his words as ill intentioned and while Nichlas wouldn't be as ridiculous as describe himself as meaning well, he had never actually shown the boy just what cruelty he could be capable of. He had toyed around and pushed buttons, but it had been Slava who read into his intentions and labeled them as cruel to never see past that. So Nichlas would be cruel as he had been invited to be and he might as well be ruthless because that was to be expected of him and he liked that. Enjoyed proving Slava right in his delusions and play this game of fire and ice, both equally capable of burning one who got too close.

There was this cruel energy building between them, each word and action fed oil to the fire that consumed them with rage and quite possibly hatred for one another. Upping the risk of their game and accelerating the intensity of anything they had to win and lose as they both willingly accepted each other's invitations to this quite possibly merciless dance. Just as promised there was this knowledge in their back of their minds that neither of them would be able to back out now, that they were too far in and had to accept this new fate. A future of games and rivalry and quite possibly hatred as they stood there face to face. The desire to curse the boy was thrumming through him and there were so many actions that would have served this purpose. "Do it, coward," Slava downright invited him, pushed him closer to the edge of losing his control and sanity in this encounter and Nichlas was almost willing to let go of it, if only to teach Slava a lesson as to not to mess with him. He couldn't leave now, as he had originally intended. Not with his wand pressed against Slava's throat and them face to face with passionate rage and anger burning in their eyes. The thought of it almost consuming every other thought. Slava needed to be taught a lesson and beneath the rage and cruel thoughts of ending it quickly with a Blasting curse before leaving Slava behind in the rubble beneath his feat, control clawed its way through the ashes of his mind. As his mind was almost filled with a sense of quiet and calm, as his back straightened and there was a switch that had been flicked as he regarded Slava almost in thought, a smirk forming on his lips.

"So be it," he whispered and his voice finally sounded like his own again. There was a level of untouchable smugness that took over his features, but also a sense of what could almost be amusement as he regarded Slava. A lesson it would be. A lesson in bursting expectations, in taming seemingly uncontrollable anger and a promise to keep winning their games and not letting Slava get away with thinking he could predict his actions.

"Scourgify."

With his wand pressed to Slava's throat there was no escape and Nichlas almost gleefully watched as bubbles of soap filled the boy's mouth as the spell took effect. "You really shouldn't be swearing as much," he said, almost randomly in reflection of all the cussing Slava had been doing earlier. It was as if a spark had been freed, like a ripple effect of throwing a rock into a lake that took some of the tension they had been feeling with it. And without the immediate desire to hex Slava, well he felt this was quite the welcome alternative. Watching Slava's reactions intently, he took a step back and smirked.