Apparently even “true love’s kiss” had not broken Valentin’s Christmas Curse.

Failing to stifle his cough upon entering the bookstore, Valentin’s lungs wept quietly into a handkerchief as white as a blank page. He didn’t know that he was host to a parasite that had been plaguing a number of Hogwarts students, but through a haze on the boiling point of psychosis, Durmstrang’s champion was not in a lucid enough state to understand. Still, the sickness was only worsening with time, and so Valentin dragged his molasses legs towards a case of medical tomes during the last moments he had before leaving London. His team needed him to fix this. Someone... someone needed him to fix this, right?

It wasn’t that his own copy of Romeo’s medical notebook was not meticulous in its own right… but none of its contents seemed to be helping. For the brief stint that Valentin’s doctor had managed to pin the boy down, only the amorphous words “psychosomatic,” “blunt trauma,” and “paramnesia” seeped into a blurry stain in his mind. The snowy-haired boy seemed in a terrible hurry to escape his own physician, after all, isolated together in a remote tower.

Managing to not trip over his own feet, Valentin’s fingers spread over the leathery spines of a handful of books. Breathing in their old parchment smell, the seeker tried to center himself even as all their letters seemed to smudge together in a nauseating, ink-scented dance. Only a handful of letters appeared to retain their shape, scattered in jumbles across the scene: X - E - R - N - L - A - D.

The supple feel of the book covers under his hand seemed to absorb his warmth, and they gave way with a clatter—Valentin had leaned into them a bit too much, scattering a half dozen to the floor. With a discouraged moan, the seeker bent down to collect them. As he wedged two at a time back into place, some titles went in upside-down or at odd angles, but such details were unintelligible when it took all of Valentin’s remaining strength to try to forget.

Through a hiss of whispers, Valentin whipped his head around. No, no… it’s not them, no… Pulling the kerchief back out of the pocket in his black slacks, Valentin began to cough once more. Then, through the tangle of hair swimming in his eyes, Valentin thought he saw him at last. Were they telling me…? With one long stride after another, Valentin approached the young man standing with a book about animal ghosts. A fallen volume about ailments from magical vermin lay unseen behind him, and in his daze, Valentin reached out with his scarred right arm to try grasping the other boy’s shoulder. The muscles in his hand twitched as his wrist rotated, lining up as if in pursuit of the golden snitch. Yet, something was amiss. Squinting over and over, Valentin couldn’t understand the boy’s face, which wasn’t perfect anymore. Nothing seemed to be in the right arrangement. Well, it wasn’t who he thought it was, anyway.

“Ким, это ты?” Russian: “Kim, is it you?” “У тебя тоже есть фантомы?” “Do you have phantoms, too?” It wasn't as if Valentin knew that he had read the other's title, but through his intuition's regurgitation of that half-digested information, the seeker sensed that the other boy was haunted.

Pulling back his own hand in horror, Valentin realized that he had been grievously inconsiderate for approaching despite his illness. Shaking his head in shame, the captain wondered what had happened to his mind, which surely was faster than this before.

Reducio

Kim blinked at Valentin, who blinked back in realization that it had been Russian rather than English that slipped from his tongue. A sound emerged from the back of Valya’s throat, a melodic hum about to shape itself into even more incomprehensible tones that only the likes of his mother could have understood. Yet, as he pulled his hand away in horror at approaching his friend while clearly ill, the sound suffocated into shocked inhalation when a hand grabbed his. Like a dazed snidget caught suddenly, firmly, the ends of the seeker’s fingers quivered.

The other’s hand curled into and around his, sending a burning across Valentin’s face as red as an apple of Eden. Tell me that it’s him. It has to be him, urged a voice inside. Sergei has to be wrong. He wasn’t imaginary, I didn’t make him up, he just… this is… a mask of Kim… he just… it has to be. Who else but my love would take my hand this way? It must be some magic, polyjuice changing his face, a spell turning his golden hair black, this… shield, this disguise… must be all a test, for me to know him when everything is confused and broken. This is… The other boy’s body folded around Valentin, nearly exploding the seeker’s heart with desperate, panicked hope.

“I didn’t just dream you up, did I?” came a silken whisper as Valya’s bewildered eyes welded themselves shut. Val never knew Kim to touch anybody, let alone him. It was not like Kim at all to act this way. No, surely it must be someone else wearing his face. Alexander. Yet, wasn't this too good to be true? “Is it you? Your hair is so, so black... Is… is any of this really real?” The boy’s eyes were blue, not green, but such details had to be concealed, did they not? Valentin could not afford to speak his true name, then, if this was a mirage meant to protect them. Whatever trouble his lost other half had gotten into, surely it was only through subterfuge that he was surviving. After all, Valentin had searched everywhere, writing letter after letter and flying across what felt like the whole of both Britain and the Balkans. “They told me it must have all been because I hit my head so hard. They don’t believe you’re real. I know you are. You have to be. Why else it hurt so bad, if you don’t really exist?” A crack in Valentin’s usually seamless English split with a creak in his voice.

Overpowered by waves of heat in the embrace, the captain’s body swayed like a slender tree under a heavy wind. After all his striving, was it really as simple as walking into a bookstore to be reunited at last? The turning of a worm inside Valentin’s belly sent shivers up his spine and down his arms, standing their fine white hairs on end like electricity. Nothing else made sense. It had to be him. This had to be it, their moment at last. Reopening his amethyst eyes, Valentin tried to catch the other’s gaze into a hard lock.

“Before, was your face the mask, or is it now? Which is the real you? Won’t you show me... and this haunted look in your eyes is... what happened?” A shock of hunger wracked Valentin’s insides as the parasite inside him yearned. They were so close. So very, very close. Keen eyes tilted down to observe the contours of two perfectly formed lips. A mouth. A portal to the boy within. Of course it was him. It wasn’t possible for Valya to be with anyone else but his other half. A flutter of snowy eyelashes and a haze of desire invoked the memory of amortentia’s aroma. Under the slug’s influence, Valentin’s higher brain functions fizzled out as useless as a sparkler thrust into the sea. Drunk on the complex chemical cocktail of his bloodstream, all the signs tilted into confirmation of the boy’s deepest desires.

“Where have you been all this time? What happened to you? You must know that I have missed you so, so terribly…” Valentin’s arms tightened around the other boy. Whether his name really had been Alexander or if it was the past which was the ruse, the Durmstrang boy wouldn’t let go. Still, he needed to grasp what had been the cause of such separation and mystery if he was ever to protect the boy. “I’m so sorry I didn’t take better care of you before. I didn’t know, never knew, didn’t understand… Tell me what you need. Tell me everything you need, and I shall make it so.” Lungs heaving with the urgency of adrenaline, Valentin's eyes watered on the brink of sobbing. He would do anything, everything, whatever would make them alright again. It wouldn't have even mattered if he'd lied about being “Alexander.” Valentin would still lay down his life for him, the true love of his life that everyone else said was just a figment of his imagination.

“S-Stribog, ohh, I just want to...” Valentin stared utterly transfixed at the curve splitting the other's mouth into two lips, not knowing that his will was not entirely his own. The only thing stopping him now was not wanting to ruin “Alexander’s” cover. Shuddering with anticipation, the magical parasite inside the champion bade him conquer new lands to split itself into. A dazzling smile burst across Valentin's face as he came to accept that he'd finally found the one he was looking for, his one and only. “Stay with me now. Never go away again, I... I beg you...”

"I'm here, I'm real," said the boy who looked like Kim. "Even though I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing here..."

Valentin bit his lip for a moment, not understanding why Alexander would say such a thing. Hadn’t the other put on a disguise and tracked Valentin down, waiting for just this moment to reveal in secret that he was still alive? That voice sounded so very much like Kim’s, not that of the Mancunian he so adored… but Valentin shook his head. The two must have been friends at Hogwarts. He must have used quite a good Volubilis Potion, but then… Alexander was always so smart. Of course he would have made such a masterful brew. What now of the boy’s future, though? Would he be able to become a great healer or pursue some wild and carefree dream anymore, having to live undercover on a constant basis? Valentin didn’t like this – not the deception, nor the hiding, and certainly not the use of another boy’s appearance. Valya didn’t want another boy’s body: he wanted the dainty Hufflepuff he knew and loved. If he had to give that up, though, just to be with Alexander again… Nodding, Valentin decided that he would, even if it meant never seeing his love’s original face ever again, nor his precious golden locks.

"I haven't changed it since July," the boy continued, explaining his blackened hair. "I just didn't have the energy to do it after... I lost him..."

July? Valentin blinked three times. After the quidditch match? Wait… When was the last time he could remember seeing, holding Alexander? Back when Val attended the Fall Ball, when his date never arrived… what happened that night? A buzz of grey sluiced through the seeker’s mind. He couldn’t remember. Well, after that time Romeo’s quaffle hit him in the head during practice, a lot of memories had not been sticking right… No, no… Sergei can’t be right. I know Alexander is real. He has to be. I wouldn’t make such a person up! Even my mind could not fabricate someone so wondrous. But… what does he mean, lost ‘him’…? His father had already… He’s... unsure of why he is here… could it be that it is actually his memory that is failing, not mine? Did he forget to come, the night of the ball? My darling, what happened to you…

“Where have you been all this time? What happened to you? You must know that I have missed you so, so terribly…”

Yet, the answers did not come.

"I want you to stay with me for awhile longer. Just let me hug you for now. Maybe take a seat so we can be more comfortable."

The black-haired boy gestured towards a remote corner, and Valentin acquiesced, pulling out a chair for the other in his usual gentlemanly way. Val would not be the first to sit, as a matter of chivalry.

“Just a while longer? But… now that you’re here, why should we ever part again? I should have never let you go in the first place. After what happened with my parents, and after that attempt on my life in Germany… it was reckless of me to let you be unguarded. It’s all my fault that terrible things have befallen you, and I’m sorry. Let me transfer to Hogwarts to take better care of you. Please, I can’t bear another day without you. Look at me, I’ve been losing my mind with you gone. I can barely keep it together, not knowing what’s happening to you, or if you were even still alive. Sergei keeps saying that I made you all up, that I am having a mental break, and he seems to be convincing people. It’s like he’s trying to erase you from my life. Don’t let that happen. Stay with me forever. I have the resources to protect you. All my wealth, all my fame and power… use it to keep safe, to have the most beautiful and happy life possible. Please, I just want to make your dreams come true, күгәрченем Tatar: 'my dove'.”

Draping his arms over the boy’s shoulders, Valentin laid his lips to the side of his ear and began to whisper ever so softly.

“Sasha*…” The touch of the other’s hair against Valentin’s cheek was coarser than the fair locks from before. He didn’t like it, but it was a sacrifice he willed himself to make. “Dëgjo. Mësova shqip të më ndihmonte të të gjeja. Mund ta përdorim si gjuhë sekrete. Duhet të fshihesh kështu? A nuk jam aq i fortë sa të të mbaj të sigurt dhe në paqe? Unë jam i përkushtuar për ty, Aleksandër. Do të të dua deri në fund të kohës, pavarësisht se si dukesh, pavarësisht se çfarë të ka ndodhur. Qëndro me mua, dashuria ime. Më mbaj në jetën tënde.” “Listen. I learned Albanian to help me find you. We can use it as our secret language. Do you have to hide yourself away like this? Am I not strong enough to keep you safe and at peace? I am devoted to you, Alexander. I will love you to the end of time, no matter how you look, no matter what has happened to you. Stay with me, my love. Keep me in your life.”

Bowing his snowy head as he laid his hands languidly, gently on each shoulder, Valentin’s iridescent gem-chip eyes stared into the black pupils of the other’s. He didn’t feel the spirit there he once knew, but the Durmstrang boy would be damned before he abandoned the one who claimed him. Whatever toils and misfortunes may have touched Alexander’s spirit, Valentin would delve every depth to burn all his pain away and find his true spirit again. Now, what the seeker’s keen eyes found in those before him was simply suffering. Intense pain. Even the slug in the captain’s belly lay still for a moment as Valentin scoured the depths of the other’s gaze. If the fates had been so unkind as to make Alexander’s spirit so unrecognizable here, Valentin would learn him all over again.

“Let me take your pain away. Surrender your torpor to me. I made you a promise. You’ll never be alone again so long as you will have me. Dashuria ime Albanian: “my love”, use me to heal and grow strong again. I need you to do this. Please.”

Quelling the resistance inside himself as he leaned in towards the discordant appearance of “Alexander,” Valentin spread his lips, but still he paused. Something didn’t smell right, and an ache in the champion’s heart spread into a sick warping of his gut. Appearances don’t matter. No. The only thing that matters is helping Alex. I need to help him, even if this hurts. Please, just… let me find Alexander in there again.

The seeker’s scarred right hand slid up the other boy’s neck and into his hair, and a wince jolted across his pale face. For a moment Valentin could not get himself to move anymore, as if some spirit was binding him from within.

Do it, Valik. Give yourself up. Heal him. Alexander hurts. He isn’t himself, just like you’re not being yourself anymore. Help Alexander. Help him find himself again.

The fearless Durmstrang’s brow furrowed into stark angles as his bottom lip began to tremble. Why don’t I want to do it? I vowed to him eternal love. I need to get over this. I have to find him in there. I’m lost without Alexander. I’ll show everyone how wrong they are about him… He isn’t dead. He isn’t imaginary. Alexander is real and I will prove it. I will… heal him. I will even find a way to make him immortal. I don’t care what it costs me. I will give him everything I am and will ever be.

Hands shaking now, Valentin’s face twisted. His expression almost resembled his part-veela mother’s before she fell into a passionate rage. Something viscous inside his belly split into two gruesome halves, but Valya didn’t know it wasn’t just the rending of his soul.

“I will always love you,” trembled the captain’s voice as he pressed his lips against the other’s, pulling back just long enough to whimper, “Alexander.” With a lunge of his stomach and a burning up his throat, Valentin’s mouth fell back onto the other boy’s. His innards churned like frontline soldiers put through the meatgrinder of war, but the pain-eater began to smile as his kiss expanded in depth and emotion. Let me heal you, prayed Valentin through his flesh. Give me your suffering and I will eat it all away.

The pearl-skinned boy’s slipping tongue pulsed with a rhythmic dance, making it difficult to discern when exactly it was that a parasitic magical slug from inside Valentin found its way out through his mouth and into Kim’s. Yearning to consume all the agony from the other boy from the inside out, Valentin kissed on and on, moving through different techniques as hot wet tears streamed down his face. It was as if he was searching for something as he surrendered himself completely to the act, and he would not stop until someone did something.

*Sasha: Russian nickname traditionally meaning “Alexander” (diminutive)

Mutual godmods between the players here are brokered through direct messages.

Calming Presence in Effect; All Participants Affected

"I, LUIGI, AND THIS MONSTROUS BOOK, WE SHALL DOMINATE THE WORLD! MUAHAHAHAHA!" Came the cackling of a green-eyed Britalian who held in both hands a snarling and champing copy of "The Monster Book of Monsters" over his head. He didn't care that by now his arms were fairly scratched up and slightly gashed from the fangs of the beast, he had a pretty good grip on it now and he sure wasn't going to let it go at this moment for fear of what it would do to exact its revenge on the boy for prying its mouth open and then running around with it like it was a weapon of mass destruction. To be fair, to some it probably could be considered that. "BEHOLD THE MENACE!"

Romeo was chasing behind, caught up on the tables and shelves that Piérre being as small and limber as he was, was able to either vault, slide under, or otherwise dance out of the way of even with the terrible literature in hand in mind. "PIERRE!" He bellowed, trying to catch the weasel of a boy. "GEMELLINO Little twin, GET OFF THE TABLE!"

The hand made a wild grab for Piérre, and it was only through sheer luck that it did not close upon the lad. Romeo, as Piérre well knew, had quite stunning hand-eye coordination. He had always seemed to have it, but now more than ever as the case was. Having missed, Romeo was left to be taken out at the shins by the table, falling onto it with a 'whuff!' and caught on it by his stomach as Piérre was allowed to climb up but one of the many shelves and go running up and down, kicking books as he did so. In his hands, the book screeched unholy sounds and snapped a few more times, trying to murder the fifth year that had grabbed it and made it to suffer in this way while Piérre the jongleur himself only laughed at the misery and destruction he was creating. Winter Break so far had been a moment of peace for him that he had not had that year in the fall semester, a time to decompress especially considering that Valentin had so kindly accepted the invitation that his infatuated Romeo--dear romantic brother of his in more than name, obviously--had extended to the albino.

"Didn't want Valentin to spend Christmas all on his own" Piérre's tiny moustache baby hairs. Oh of course, Romeo. No other reason at all for that, hmmm?

It had only been through sheer luck that Piérre had managed to hide his little errant brew of Amortentia from Mathilda for as long as he had, having socked it away high in a treehole that he himself climbed in human form to deposit. The bottle was probably just a hair too heavy for him in his smaller bird form to carry, after all. And Christmas had been nice and all; a little chaos here, a little jibing there, presents, Mass, though admittedly while Piérre knew less about Valentin than his own brother did, even Piérre couldn't ignore the fact that Valentin had been acting... decidedly strangely the entire visit. Anxious, almost. More than anxious; neurotic. Neurotic that was different than Romeo's level of neuroticism, and believe you me Piérre could easily tell the difference.

They had come here just so that Maddie could run some errands and so the boys could pick up the books that they would need for the next semester. The first mistake that their steel-eyed and tongued guardian had made was that she believed that she could leave Piérre and Romeo alone and Piérre would not cause trouble. Well, a wild wind had taken him... and so here the lad was, dancing on tables and leaping from shelf to shelf like he was some wild great ape. It was a magical shop, after all. Any mess he made could just easily be magicked away. It was only at school that they had the stupid detention things were they couldn't use magic. Honestly it was just silly.

"Piérre I swear, when I get my hands on you I'm dragging you out of this store by your pointy ear and straight to Maddie!" Romeo called up to Piérre, who was by now starting to 'chomp' the book with animated faces high above the ground.

Piérre grinned back down at his beloved twin. "Gotta catch me first! Nyah-nyah!" And he blew a raspberry for good measure, puppeting the snarling book in turn.

Giggling as Romeo buried his face in his hands, Piérre slid down the shelf and went spinning down it, humming gaily and then breaking into a full run, skidding around the corner and ready to wreak a new level of animated comedic vengeance upon whatever poor customers just so happened to be in that area.

What he saw instead caused the boy to skid past the lane in shock and then go completely silent, instinctively ducking behind a shelf end on the far side for cover and concealment as he peered on like a peeping Tom at the... well, the things he saw basically cleared up what he was looking at... maybe.

Well it was probably clear that the boy with what could be considered at best to be a 'tenuous' grasp in the world of romance besides his unconsciously flirtatious nature could not properly define what was going on, exactly, but what Piérre did know was that his lips instinctively curled in disgust and his stomach started to churn ever so slightly. He knew the other boy, that was Kim... and for that matter he knew the ball of white, fluffy hair that was Valentin Schnell.

Despite himself, he audibly retched for a second and then swooped back so as to hopefully just run away from whatever the hell was going on over there. He wanted no part of that.

"Piérre, get over here!"

Oh delight of delights his brother was in the area.

... his brother was in the area.

Paler than usual, Piérre spun around the corner and back into the shelves of books, having released the monstrous book into the air to let it go and attack someone else and threw both his hands up in front of Romeo, who was making his way down the shelves in that familiar slightly slow but long-legged gait he always carried; perhaps a little hurried considering who it was that he was looking for, who had now presented himself before the other party. "Romeo, I beg, please don't come around this corner right now." His eyes were wide and slightly panicked, willing his twin to listen and understand even though he wasn't being direct as to what it was that he wanted his brother to avoid in the first place. The immediate look that came into his twin's blue eyes was a look that Piérre was quite unfortunately quite familiar with, the look of suspicion that was hybridized with curiosity and then determination that would wash through thereafter. "Romeo, I beg, please don't right now it's very I--ack!"

Therefore, Piérre was already tightened up and prepared for when Romeo's hand pressed into his chest and subsequently pushed him aside and into the shelf adjacent, sending the items on decorative endtable pertaining to the art of potioneering with respect to "Presto-Meals" as they were called, scattering across the floor. Catching himself on the table proper, Piérre could only watch with nervously creased eyes as Romeo went to confront the unfolding circumstance waiting for him there...

Well he had tried his best, and this was going to end... ungoodly. Piérre slipped under the table and took shelter behind the corner, peering out with anxious eyes and creased brows at whatever it was that was going to follow. In a brief slipping of personal code, he invoked the only word that he thought could really encapsulate this moment in full the very best.

"Shit."

Statistics: Stamina 7 | Strength 5 | Evasion 18 | Wisdom 12 | Accuracy 16 | ArcPower 5

Abilities:
Keen Eye | Calming Presence | Beast Master [Cat] | 's Grace | Animagus [Hummingbird]

Items:
[Sharpened] Locksmith's Knife | [Red] Deck of 52 Playing Cards | Soda

¤ | Ω | ¤

Nec Temere, Nec Timide. Durmstrang Institute's

Romeo Giovanni Marchonné [7'0" | 222lbs]

"English." "Italiano. Italian." "Russian."

| Faint Scar on Left Eye & Mangled Right Ear | \ Fingerless Glove on Right Hand, Bite Scar on Forearm / | Lichtenberg Figure on Right Arm and Down Back |

Valentin Schnell, Piérre Marchonné & @Kim Sato
@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

Over the break, I had once again somehow entered into an ungodly growth spurt. In addition to now finding myself having to duck even lower in order to avoid cracking my head on every doorway that had ever had the pleasure to come into existence, I now had to start watching my shins diligently. Most coffee tables were now right at that height, and it hurt a good deal to ram into one on accident speaking from experience.

Such as the table that I had just rammed into when trying to catch my errant twin brother. "Piérre I swear, when I get my hands on you I'm dragging you out of this store by your pointy ear and straight to Maddie!" I called up to him warningly, my eyes set and determined with this promise. Lord knew what Mathilda would do when she had her hands on Piérre, after all. God help his soul, that's all I could say to the matter when it came to how things went down historically. And, oddly enough, I think that Piérre knew that too.

He had been on his worst behavior all while Valentin had been visiting during this break, I just knew it. He had been at least three or four times the issue than normal, and that was--I was one hundred percent sure of this much--just because of our guest, because Valentin had come over because he had accepted my invitation. With a sigh, I buried my face in my hands as Piérre blew a raspberry at me and continued to gallivant off. After a second, I pinched my brows and tried to ignore the deep-seated wrenching in my stomach and tried to repress my frustrations with a second and more forceful heavy sigh. Dragging myself to my feet, I picked up a few of the books and tried to neatly stack them back up to the way that they had sort of been before they had received the "Marchonné Stamp of Disorder" thanks to my brother in the form of a shoeprint on the soft covers and then having been scattered by yours truly.

I was, without a doubt, the unintentional bull in a China shop.

Christmas had been... well and fine, I supposed. Besides the occasional bout of heightened anxiety and a need to go out and 'blow off some steam in the form of shadowboxing or setting up a punching bag to wail on, all was... mostly good in the world. For Christmas I had tried to think so hard of something worthwhile and valuable enough to give to Valentin... and in the end I decided that perhaps the best choice was simply to make a copy of my pre-existing medicinal notebook that I had already compiled and transfer its pertinent contents into a second one, just for Valentin and his use. I had gotten quite good at the whole 'healing' thing, oddly enough... especially when it came to trying to heal Valentin for things that had been... my fault. Our fault. For the times I was just too strong and had hurt him.

And when he had found another that would help to heal him more in ways that I simply couldn't. Finishing up tidying the books by now, a wave of nausea rippled through me and I subconsciously covered my mouth as acidic bile rose for a moment and my stomach seemed to rise into my throat before returning to its proper place just as soon as the sensation had come to my attention. Valentin had told me about Alexander, about the things that this boy I didn't know made him feel; the things that they could become in ways that I couldn't even so much as marvel at. The poetry had dripped from Valentin's lips like nectar from an overflowing blossom, the elegance of his dreams that I was--without a doubt--too dull in comparison to share in.

And I had struck him in a moment of despair, in realization perhaps, in distraction. I had hurt Valentin, I had hurt the one part of him that I could still love the most. I had damaged him, damaged him more than I thought that I had at first, for even when he was recovered enough to return back to 'regular life'... pieces of his memory were obviously missing, and I could see the way that those pieces haunted him, crept in the shadows of his countenance, and reduced those certain parts of him to a hollowed shell that even with Christmas cheer it had seemed to be incurable. Valentin had relied on me, and I had let him down not once or twice, perhaps more close to three times, or perhaps even four.

I was a terrible friend, I was a terrible person...

I was terrible to him because I couldn't bring myself to be truthful in either way, to crush his poeticisms or to compromise the internal storm in me that yanked me in both directions like a man spread eagled on a ship's mast. The winds blew northwardly as the ship spun them southerly, and oh how the fragile human body could only hold on for so long before...

The twist in my stomach intensified and I once again felt sick to my stomach as these thoughts and these toyed ideas ran rampantly through my mind with visceral glee. I began to skulk down the lines of bookshelves, peering down each one in turn as I pursued my flighty brother so as to take hold of him and politely escort him off of the premises with an iron hand and by the ear--just as I had avowed to him. "Piérre, get over here!" At this point he was just making things worse for himself. He always seemed to have a knack for doing that sort of thing, didn't he.

Well just as I had spoken of the flighty devil, that whirling dervish did just so happen to suddenly make himself known to me in the form of an almost panicked representation of himself--flailing hands and desperate eyes and all the rest of the works. "Romeo, I beg, please don't come around this corner right now."

My brow arced quickly and then furrowed into a look of suspicion. Before even waiting to find out what it was that he was trying to hide from me now, I pressed my hand to his chest lightly and shoved him out of the way, even as he kept on trying to ramble. "Romeo, I beg, please don't right now it's very I--ack!" I didn't have time for his rambling nonsense.

But I did realize fairly quick why it was that Piérre had tried to prevent me from turning the corner. I found out very quickly indeed. I didn't even take time to assess the situation, and in two fast and long strides I had cut the distance in the twinkle of an eye, hand extended and already in the process of reaching. Reaching not for Valentin, oh no. Nonono. Absolutely not reaching for Valentin. I was reaching for the other person, the other person who was liplocked with him instead. "Hey. Get off of him." I snarled quietly, trying to snatch him by the shoulder and rip him away.

If I succeeded in ripping him off of Valentin, it was in the brief interim between shock of engaging with my Valentin in such a vulnerable and intimate way and the shock of being rapidly torn away from him in turn that my fist would come singing through the air towards him. [Martial Artist Punch, Piérre CP d20(6), Accuracy d20(8) + 18 + 3(MC) + 2 (Punch): 31 that will deal 360 damage, you may decide how this goes, Kim]. I had a notorious history of never pulling my punches, and now was not going to be an exception. "Get off of him, what do you think you're doing?" I continued to growl quietly, interposing myself between Valentin and this stranger while puffing up my size ever so slightly. I loomed over most people that I knew... in fact... almost all the people that I knew, outstripping them even by full inches. This kid, this idiot, was puny compared to me, and I knew it.

Reducio

I didn't care if this kid had magic on his side. I didn't need a wand to be a threat. He had just encroached on my Valentin, and he was going to pay the fair price if he couldn't figure out a way to explain himself, and quick. "You better start talking. And don't tell me that you choked on your tongue while doing it French-style." My fists curled again as my hackles rose. The nausea in me was building slowly but surely, rising into a crescendo that screamed to claim and to defend that which was mine. This outsider was a threat, and I was going to make him aware of that right quick. My body screamed to jump at him as it was, and it was all I could do to will myself to be patient, to break through the miasmatic red mist that was starting to cloud my vision in such an oh so familiar way.

The scent of blood and dust was in the air, and ashes invisible began to spread their sickeningly sweet scent of burning destruction and of melting rubber through the air.

Reducio

Stats:

Ω Stamina 9 | Evasion 9 | Strength 17 Ω
Ω Accuracy 18 | Wisdom 10 | ArcPower 0 Ω

Abilities:

Ω Obnoxiously Strong | Perfectionist I | Martial Artist | Healing Sage I Ω
Ω Muggle Condition Ω

Romeo’s roar flooded Valentin’s dreamlike haze as Kim’s body tore from his grasp. Valentin didn’t feel like himself, but that old baritone rumble overcame him like a motherland song. Blood misted the air and a familiar arc collided with the dark-haired boy’s much smaller body. Blinking slowly, Valentin knew that Romeo had come to save him from something, even if he didn't know what. It was what his knight always did when the idealistic captain got in over his head, wasn’t it? Romeo had come for him in Germany when Val was to be murdered, came for him whenever the seeker needed the beater’s defense in quidditch, came for him whenever he called and even came to the deepest bottom of the Great Lake when Val didn’t know to call... when he needed help the most... It was Romeo who was there when the champion lost control of his wand, when Charles broke Val’s nose, and… back when the falcon crashed into the pier on that thunder-wracked morning in Durmstrang. When these smells and movements came, it was because Romeo had arrived to protect him, every time. Now…

Swaying as he rose to his feet, Valentin squinted. With only half the magical slug remaining as it sank to the bottom of his gut to enjoy some rest in a viscous satisfied afterglow, the parasite’s power over Valentin’s mind faded. What had happened? Why was Kim here, and Romeo was…? Val’s lips tingled as he raised two slender fingers and drew a strange mucous from them, bluish-black. Something was deeply wrong here. Blinking over and over again, Valentin tried to understand what had happened. It didn’t make sense. He’d had a vision of kissing, and… wasn’t it Alexander? Alexander wasn’t here, no, hadn’t been by his side for months. Despite all his desperate searching, Val had never seen the boy again. Why should he be having such intense visions here, in a random London bookstore, he wondered. Romeo’s aggressive stance spoke to him on a subconscious level, and so Val knew there was a threat present even if lurking in the mists of his delirium. His co-captain was demanding an explanation of the other, Kim, one of Valentin’s many friends. Was Kim possessed, or had he betrayed them? Rubbing the side of his temple, Valentin’s throat ached, parched. Something had happened, another lapse in his memory, another warping of his reality. He remembered that he was trying to heal someone in his vision, maybe to heal Alexander, but of course there was no Alexander. Yet, in this dusty bookrack corner, what did the current scene even have to do with that? Considering the two boys before him, Valentin recalled the voice of his caretaker, Sergei, as clear as if it were yesterday.

This boy you are so devoted to, who is he even? Do you even know his last name? None of us have ever seen him. What do you know about him? You really let your fame go to your head, thinking you can’t be led astray, can’t be duped by simple tricks. So you met this enchanting creature by a lakeside on an alluring, magical night, but what happened then…? In the twinkle of an eye, he was mysteriously gone. Have you forgotten each and every cautionary tale about the victims of water spirits? The sea siren, the boto, the morgen, the rusalka, the nixie—all around the world they draw you to the edge to have their way with you and then leave you drowned. It’s a story as old as time, but the only champion to resist their ruination is the one who knew to stuff his ears with wax to block out the monsters’ seduction. Little Valentin did not heed the words of his father, who tried so hard to teach him the old tales. You may have walked away physically, but you did not escape that thing’s curse. Look at what you’ve become—obsessed and empty, a lost soul, detached from reality— and for what? One intoxicating night and tear-soaked hallucinations trailing at your feet. Who knows how you are serving that creature’s needs now. Young dreamer, teenage Valentin, the would-be immortal king who was made a fool by his own naïveté for believing in true love… admit to your mistakes so that those who care can still help you find your way home to sanity. This isn’t love, Valenka; you’re simply a casualty. The “boy” you devoted yourself to has no more substance than a mirage, an imago, and all too easily would this predator allow you to worship him. You have to accept that such cruelty exists in the world if you are to ever let the scales fall from your once-keen eyes. It’s the true believers like you that make the best targets precisely because you would sacrifice your everything for them. They have the most to gain from selfless types like you. Can’t you see that you’re failing everyone around you now? Others need your care and your clarity, but there’s nothing left of you to give because you won’t let go of a toxic illusion. What about those who have stood by you for years, through thick and thin, fighting and spilling blood for you? If you can’t listen for your own sake, at least think of them.

Shivering waves passed over Valentin's body as his hair stood on end. Shaking his head to try to clear the overgrown tendrils of sweat-soaked forelocks from his eyes, and with his skin cold and clammy, he began to feel like he had been had.

“W… R-Romeva…” Not understanding if what appeared to be Kim was still a friend or at least temporarily an enemy, Valentin staggered forward. “W-what happened? I… I’m… I’m really confused. Everything is a blur.” Wrapping one long arm around Romeo’s back, Valentin neither contributed to the violence nor tried to restrain the beater. Instinctually the seeker felt the need to stay close, especially in case he could assist, but this was the first moment of any clarity he’d had for months. The delicate white hand on the Italian's giant back trembled despite its firm grasp when a sick, rotting sensation rippled through the bottom of Val's stomach, leaving a sense that something terrible had just happened.

“Why are you restraining Kim?” The seeker’s hand clasped tighter around the folds of Romeo’s shirt as Val drew closer, increasingly alarmed at how he had very little idea of how any of them had gotten there. “I feel… very unwell…”

Mutual godmods between the players here are brokered through direct messages.