The grief and rage crashed down PV Hans Jenssen finished

banner by Winnie Harper

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

Hans was positive that everyone had heard the commotion. Incendio, Flipendo, Spongify, spell after spell hurled across the room. Not by the hand of a duellist’s sophistication but rather a student, too young to be cursed by such anguish. He would not be drawn to a girl a training for her martial arts, but the accusations spilling from her lips dismissed the former possibility entirely. In Russian - too slurred with tears and a desperate drunkenness for the boy speaking it as his third language to understand - she cursed out the world in a flaming fireball of fury. Native ability in the language however was not crucial to his comprehension of guilt and grief - two plagues as universal as any other emotion. Soon they were not even words anymore, only screams echoing out of the empty Duelling club and into the corridors. Then, silence. Everyone had heard the commotion. Everyone had ignored the commotion.

It was only when Hans stepped into the empty room that he heard her final line. If there had ever been any doubt on the reason of her despair, it dissipated as swiftly as it came. Death still hung in the air like a welcome shroud, the ghastly reminder of what happened days ago that no attempt at celebration could lighten. What, twenty-something people gone was it? For the German, the last few days had unfolded in a mechanical cycle, ending in the night with him watching over Nikolai’s tireless work and getting the barest of sleep himself. After his rare bout of selfishness had come the natural desire to provide support to as many surviving victims as he could manage. Did it matter if they were people he not only did not know but did not even recognise? Not in the slightest.

Brown hair, brown eyes: the unassuming sort of girl to go unnoticed by the crowd, the sort of ghost child he was familiar with. Perhaps she would rather have her solitude, but Hans had not bothered with such considerations as the overwhelmingly burning desire to set something, anything right in this world overbrimming with fault compelled him. Familiar, was it not? Committing a sin he thought would be beneficial. The remorse still taunted him, a rusted chain attempting to hold him back from what he saw as the assistance the mourning girl needed. Sat against the wall with her head between her knees, looking so small and helpless... so painfully alone. No longer able to bear the wait, the Durmstrangian knelt at her side, murmuring a soft “Hey.” He didn't expect anything back, knew that she did not need to reply, but all the same he started to rummage around in his backpack. “Here,” Hans offered in cautious Russian as he unscrewed the cap, “Would you like some water after all that screaming? I haven't touched it.”

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

Roleplaying as Irina Liliya Zvereva, Koldovstoretz iNPC

————————————————xx

near dusk “-english-”

| |

“tears and rage” “russian”

| |

october 16th “ukrainian”

————————————————xx

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

Iriliya tried to breathe. She tried to think she was alone, at home, her parents, no, her mother. They were near her, soothing her pain, with kind words. But how broken did her family have to be? Her older brother? He thought she was trying to rival, bully him with her cautious antics, make herself the favourite. But she didn’t. And in a fight, she felt like something between them just broke. He wasn’t so warm again. Acted like a brother, though nothing important. And dad… Don’t think about it. No time to weep now.

She was consumed by it. Everything following the other. Each death, each scream. She had made a mess, right? But her entire family made a mess, as she was told, with her father. But the weren’t family. Or were they? Maybe in some far away universe, she would have gotten up and smiled, because dad was watching her from above. But why did other people have too? Her hair. She had dyed it white over the summer. Not a single white strand now. She wanted to fit in and fade in the crowds. It hurt otherwise. To think of their judgement. But why did she scream. Why was the only one screaming? Why wasn’t her brother- forget him. He didn’t come.

She didn’t hear the footsteps immediately, so consumed in her own thoughts of pain, a constant headache since she arrived here. No, it wasn’t the cold, more like the lack of sleep, of smiles, of encouragement. And then, her injuries. Thankfully, she hadn’t been hurt too much, although she had suffered a few burns and scrapes. She had managed to leave just before the disaster, but why hadn’t she followed Professor Petrova? Never mind, she took the harm from the others. If she had died to, even worse.

Thankfully, the rest of her family was safe too. But it didn’t calm her down. And the ball of a girl barely heard the other boy, drowning in her thoughts. Hey. She sighed. For a moment, she wanted to call her brother’s name. But he wasn’t coming. He would have tailed her in the past. Here. Would you like some water after all that screaming? I haven’t touched it? It was an interesting thing, for someone to help you.Thanks for the offer, but not from the bottle. It’s still yours. The wand her hands held felt so heavy. Yet…

Potiri Putine. A flask was conjured in the air. She held it up. You can pour some in here. I’ll keep the flask, and you the bottle. If you wish to share though. If he poured some, she’d drink. Water wasn’t much, but she was happy someone had finally come. Usually, she would try and comfort. Who helps the helper? Someone kind enough.

A weight of shame in her chest. Anything could have been on the young boy’s mind when he came in there. There was a need to apologise. Im sorry if I’m bothering. Just too many things have happened in a year… She didn’t know what made her muse such things. It was like being a muggle plane on autopilot: so very little is done with actual thought. She looked at the genuine kindness and tried to keep it close. She’d need such help for a while, it seemed. Ah I wish I could tell you. I don’t want to be a burden. Uttering words in Ukrainian made her more relaxed and more nervous at the same time. It was the language she would speak to her brother “secretly” in. And it was the language they had the fight in, too.

How has this whole thing been for you? Am I too- expressive? Don’t mind negative commentary, I’m used to it… Why do good people have to die early sometimes, and the people whose fault it is get to live on? How can people mourn silently for years like saints? I’d like to know. Her face a frown, her eyes red. She desperately needed to hold on to company. It was the only thing between her and more weeping. God, how she’d really like to know that answer.

——————————————————
Pings: @Archer Duncan as Hans Jenssen

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

OOC info: Don’t know ‘bout rolls this time, hope my POV isn’t too long.
Thanks for agreeing to do this thing!

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

Gently pouring in the water, he watched as the girl drank, unspeaking until she was the first to do so. Having expected a sharing of woes or misery, what Hans did not foresee was an apology. It was almost heartbreaking how she felt the need to apologise, being the victim; if it was anyone who should’ve have repented it should be the damned terrorists. “No, you’re not being bothering,” Hans reassured. It’s not her fault, and if this was enough to bother him he would not have had enough heart to stop. A lot of things have been happening for all of them, after all, but the only reason Hans had kept his composure was the knowledge he was still on the lucky side of the spectrum. And the fact that other people needed him. “What’s your name?”

Then there was a pause as she vocalised what they all had in mind. “I don’t know,” he said simply. Why did good people have to die early sometimes, and the people whose fault it is get to live on? His father - yes the very own man who asked him to believe in the benevolent God - would have told him life was unfair, that people die and he should accept it. He was beginning to think that the entity was created half to generate hope though prayers (which, he would reluctantly concede, was what he had been doing the past nights) but half to put the blame on when helplessness consumed all light. A sympathetic smile was all he could offer Irina, for he himself was hardly in a place to give advice when he carried his own burdens. Yet there was an odd solace in the fact that he was, at least, not alone that made nights of sorrow ever so slightly more bearable. At least, he reminded himself, his friends were still here, in pain but physically unscathed. “It’s horrible and it’s been very difficult for me as well. If you want to, we can talk about it, but if you don’t I’ll just be company. It’s better than grieving alone.”

Brows furrowing at the girl’s words, he turned away as to not direct his frustration onto her. There was something about her question that left Hans’ stomach churning. Mourning in silence was what he had once deemed to be the path towards acceptance, by replacing his grief with nights so exhilarating he became numb to the pain. The pain would go away if only he could bring himself to smother it, but clearly this was his first time experiencing deaths, so many gone so quickly, so harrowing and unseen it was more out of a war film than real life. Now mourning in silence was a stab in the heart, not when he too felt the anger to scream or cry or fucking throw something across the room - and perhaps then he should have asked himself to calm down, but like always he had overestimated his own resilience. Although he still fell into the habit easily, he now bore a strong distaste to the praise for the emotionless mannequins the Russian wrongly worshipped. “They aren’t saints,” drawing in a breath, Hans replied coldly and quickly with eyes set in determination that casted their gaze back upon her, “Just heartless. There's no good idolising them.”

@Eugenia Karageorgiadi as Irina Zvereva, apologies for this late reply

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

Roleplaying as Irina Liliya Zvereva, Koldovstoretz iNPC

————————————————xx

near dusk “-english-”

| |

“tears and rage” “russian”

| |

october 16th “ukrainian”

————————————————xx

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

Iriliya looked down, trying to breathe. What was she doing? What was she thinking? It was stupid to bring this total stranger into this. The water was supposed to douse the fire, but it now burned even more. And it hurt. She tried to forgive and forget. In the past. But now she couldn’t. And the boy didn’t have to feel bad about her.

If I’m not being a bother… I guess. At least I’m not being to you. The Russian sighed. She had realised the boy didn’t know her. And so did she not recognise him at all. Almost a whisper. The shame and pain built up, so the only thing that escaped her lips was a whisper. Irina. You? She breathed quietly as she heard him talk. And her heart twisted. She understood the pain. And then… Maybe. I don’t know if I can say anything. But I guess… Unsure, she pictured her always-happy little siblings. Their smile eradicated through the family home. It was always a beacon of light. But now it felt so far away… Like it was in another universe, another reality. And it practically was. It was just her now. Because her brother wouldn’t care. They were very different from each other. Another bond gone. Burned down.

He didn’t like them. The “saints” she said. But he didn’t know, did he? And what if he did know? No, no one knew. She was no extrovert, having many friends she could rely on. The pain was there, forming a knot in her body. Neck, chest, stomach. I wouldn’t “idolise” them, as you say, if they weren’t, well, family. When my father was killed last year, I cried. And so did my mother and my brother. But only for a short while. Then they stopped. They didn’t care. And the expectation for me is to not care either. Not that much, anyways. Because I cry at night and break down when I’m pressured. It’s as if I’m not me. They said they miss him, but it’s not right to still mourn about it. I’m wasting my time. Especially my brother, he says that. And the side of my mom. Yeah. My little siblings got over it, because, they are little, quite young, so the thing just slid away. And they are happy.

And now, I get the attack. People I don’t even know. And a friend. Not very close, but a friend. And some people I knew. We know most kids there. And some Durmstrangians my cousins know because they go there. And I don’t know. It feels like I’m drowning again. But what can I keep a smile, even if it is saccharine. How do you not just… break down. She looked at him, the determination in his eyes evident. She hoped he would understand. And help. She was ready to break down again. So, Iriliya looked away. And acid rain poured down on her heart. She couldn’t take it back now. It was too late.

——————————————————
Pings: @Archer Duncan as Hans Jenssen

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

OOC info: Oof, I’m giving her some trauma and odd family issues. Uhh, I hope it’s not to much. And np for the late reply!

banner by Winnie Harper

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

There was sullen familiarity in her hurt, a familiarity Hans had never thought he would admit to sharing. He knew what was behind the tears streamed or the words screamed, how it consumes at all of a person’s soul and spits it out distorted and ugly. He felt the detestation of it squirm in his blood, how much he hated this world he once too had idolised. Helpless, the pelting rain of misery must have been easier to hide from curled up into a little ball. Even then, he knew the explosions would still echo behind closed eyelids.

“I’m Hans,” he said finally in response, trying to tug the sides of his lips into a smile, but it came out lacklustre in comparison to even the most casual ones he offered with his introductions. Dropping his voice into a gentler whisper that matched Irina’s, he reassured, “The circumstances aren’t great but nice to meet you.” Even in the volume of her speech there lied the obvious pain eating away at her that she was so wrongly bashful of. Agony had grown to be an emotion so prevalent these recent days that anything else hardly emitted a light bright enough to counter it out. He had witnessed the darkness carried in every passing person since the incident at the Pyre, he had grieved at how their hearts were contorted in it. He knew it would not be too long until his own remorse and sorrow would pile up and threaten to eat him alive.

Hans listened, for it was all in his power to do. For once in his life he had no idea what to say, feeling so lost for words as Irina described her past. “Was killed,” she had used the passive voice and even such a small detail made him clench his fists - why did the world have to take away the people they needed the most? And how did people just accept this without batting an eye? Society, so devoid of love, was as unforgiving and cold as the Durmstrangnian winter. Since when had love become a thing to stigmatise? While he shared his condolences for her father's death, what truly troubled him more was how indifferent her family had become towards it, and while that was no crime, forcing a still-grieving Irina to fall into step with the same acceptance was. “I'm sorry about his death... You loved him, didn't you? How could they expect you not to care when you loved him?”

Here he was hit with the question that challenged his own hypocrisy. “Irina, you know, I don’t like them because I was them and it was fucked up just thinking you can get through all your troubles with a fake smile. Honestly, I think I still am and even though I hate it I don't know how to get out of it.” He could convince himself he would never drown in the turbulent waters he had learnt to master with a nonchalant grin, but real life was beating down every chance he tried to come up for breath. If he had fallen into water, the first thing he had learnt was to swim up towards the sun, but it was now as if an invisible shackle had chained him down and was just waiting for the second when he would relent and breathe in water instead of air. And how was Hans supposed to swim up when he didn't even know where "up" was anymore? I don't know, I just can't.

He would break down, he would cry and scream and shout, just not in front of her. He wanted to, so badly, if only he could, but he was keeping strong for others.

@Eugenia Karageorgiadi, as Irina Zvereva

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

Roleplaying as Irina Liliya Zvereva, Koldovstoretz iNPC

————————————————xx

near dusk “-english-”

| |

“tears and rage” “russian”

| |

october 16th “ukrainian”

————————————————xx

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

The girl’s thoughts swarmed in her head. Hearing people talk was painful. Why? The Russian didn’t know. But it was. Waves of tears hidden behind soft, saccharine smiles; was this the pure blood world? Though really, did she ever have any time to wonder? The young girl breathed quietly, though painfully. She wished she could turn time back… But she couldn’t. And it was nice that the thoughts in her head couldn’t be heard…

She listened to Hans introducing himself. So he was, well, him? And she agreed. This is no circumstance you should meet someone, but well, this was it. No one can change it. His gaze wasn’t something she could escape. And she saw his own pain in his eyes. She wasn’t alone. Maybe he needed help too. Why was she the only one complaining? It’s nice to meet you to. Even if this is the way it happened. Iriliya couldn’t smile at the moment. Her mouth felt too rigid, along with her muscles, to even form a smile.

Irina focused on Hans as she told him the entire story. Seeing the young boy speechless wasn’t something unexpected. She had expected it when she spoke, it would have been her reaction too if this had happened after well… What happened at the Pyre. His confusion was a shared thing between them. Both were confused and pained, both of them hurt like heck. And if they kept it inside, it wouldn’t take too much time until the little bottle fell and got destroyed. Her bottle was broken. It had hit the floor. It was broken, the pieces scattered everywhere. Somehow, it felt like his was teeter-tottering on the edge… Dangerously.

Irina was no genius empath. Just sometimes, her imagination could run wild. Or she just had some thoughts that were surprisingly right. But now was not the time to ask. No broken bottle drags the other down. And the two of them weren’t connected by strings. The words just fell out of her mouth without thinking. And she just stared intently. Studying the boy’s face constantly.

The boy’s condolences were accepted with a silent agreement from her part. I guess I did. I still do …really. Just, I don’t know, are pure bloods built different? Emotionally, I mean. And I’m pretty sure they liked him… I guess expectations are different. From family to family.

He- he understood. It didn’t seem like he just smiled the way through. She admitted silently again that she agreed. That it was messed up. But how to get out of the loop? She couldn’t offer much advice there but…Well, you can get out of it. After a point of just trying smile I broke down. My biggest one was today. Like for a moment, it wasn’t like I was drowning, but screaming on the surface. And was a plunge. And I’m oscillating between the two. I believe that both of us know how fucked up this is, as you said. You can get out of it. I follow the bubbles when I drown and go up. Just like real life, there is a way out. But really, it’s not much different. Only a way to feel more human. Not very much different. But it’s worth a shot.

Maybe if both of our bottles break down, we can pick up the pieces together. I don’t mind if anyone breaks down in front of me. At least I’ll know I’m not alone. The force was pressing down.

A force that was there since last year, since they told her to get over it. Because death is a part of life and nothing can exist without the other. But really, who just goes against a crying child? Old beliefs of quiet pain. It was time Irina tried to shatter the water’s edges. And maybe she and Hans could collaborate for this goal. Maybe.

——————————————————
Pings: @Archer Duncan as Hans Jenssen

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

OOC info: Let’s drown them together (metaphorically, obviously)!

banner by Winnie Harper

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

“I don’t know,” he admitted, for not knowing was as painful as knowing. Being the fool did not bring him bliss but helplessness. He knew too little when the world was spinning around him with all its flashes of overwhelming colours. He knew too little of this world he once thought he could master. Why, why, why, people had to be hurt, was the most prevalent of them, pulling on his heartstrings with every move. “Maybe, but my brother is a pure-blood and I-” a pause as he swallowed the chicken bone that was his thoughts -“we do love each other very much. I don’t think we should judge how people handle emotions by blood.” The final line had been hastily added to create some semblance of a scientific analysis rather than his current state of being solely driven on what shred of rationality still managed to hang on in his sea of senselessness. But even the coldest of regulated reports could not have denied how he had declared into the summer night his love for Nikolai. The pelting rain of that night would never even have come close to drowning out the bold, but more so wholehearted, proclamations he had let out without care for anyone else.

Hans’ words echoed back to him tinged with regret. Vulnerability was only reserved for the certain people in his life who he would offer his life for, not a random girl he had found in a foreign country, thousands of miles away from home. He didn’t know her beyond a name, and why would he so easily strip down his defences? If they both break down, at least they would be in this together; but if they both break down, who would be there to wipe away the tears? He knew know was far from the time to fall, and he knew he could not bear for her to see him fallen, when the young Icarus flew so agile among the trees, tucking himself in for that sharp dive, bracing himself for a crash. But not a crash here - he would have to find somewhere deeper in the forest to do that. And hopefully someone to hold, even if he plagued his mind. Someone who was not her. He could have taken this as a chance to erase all of the smiles, but he only smiled more, and sometimes the multitude of it hurt his face, but it was a such sweet aching.

Not here. Not now. And so all Hans offered in response was a small smile and a bitter chuckle, “Really? Not… in front of you.” He placed his words, though blunt and quick to the point, delicately as they could be and they still came out like sugarless lemonade. “Sorry.” He felt the apology necessary after how much Irina had so candidly shown him. She with her eyes - hopeful or hopeless he could no longer distinguish - had asked too much of Hans. No, not today, not when the only person he trusted with his tears was one he could not even bear to talk to.

Fucking take me back to August when I had still cried for joy.

@Eugenia Karageorgiadi, as Irina Zvereva

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

Roleplaying as Irina Liliya Zvereva, Koldovstoretz iNPC

————————————————xx

near dusk “-english-”

| |

“tears and rage” “russian”

| |

october 16th “ukrainian”

————————————————xx

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

He didn’t know. Neither of them knew. Little kids, they were, not people who had played the game of life for long. But why had she said so much? You are an idiot Iriliya. Liliya, you are a goddamn idiot. That repeated in her brain. A little head that vibrated invisibly with all the pain she had felt over the past days. Who are you, speaking to a literal stranger about every burden that god decided to give? How much of an idiot are you Liliya? The comment repeated itself in here brain. She could hardly hear Hans speaking at that point.

The people she loved had walked away. Her brother had walked away. Her mother had left her to deal with the demons of her own. And when she needed help, no one was ultimately there. No one. So why did she keep wishing? Wishing that someone would come, and lift off all her burdens with ease. You are supposed to deal with them. Solo. You ask too much of others. You are an idiot Liliya. The pain vibrated even stronger than before. But it was invisible. Inside her mind.

The slight smile on his face felt utterly wrong. She saw it. She felt even more pain. It was consuming her. And when his words came back, helplessness added on to the pain. She was consumed. She had gone too far. No need to say sorry. I’m an idiot. That is why everyone walked away. I have no limits. It’s my fault. I have gone too far. I always go too far. Blame me. Not yourself. She smiled, trying to bear the pain inside. Smile through the pain. Smile through the pain.

She wished she could take time back. Before this meeting. Before this year. Before her duel even, when she had won with Olya [npc]. She just wished she could go back to 2022. Before her brother had gone to Koldovstoretz. Before her father had died. Before her family life crashed down.

Back to the good old times. When she was happy. When she could be understood. And then a flicker came into her mind. Eugenia. The beautiful Greek girl she had met on a trip with her pure blood grandparents when they were invested in business deals. They had spent some time together. She had learnt a Greek song. They had conversed. And promised that they’d meet again. And if any of the two needed help, they’d have each other’s back. Now was the time to bring the promise back.

She was the only one left. The only one whom she felt comfortable to talk to. She spinned her wand once in her hand and looked to Hans. I’m sorry if I hurt you with what I said. I’ll be going. It was nice to meet you. I’m so very sorry if I have gone too far. I’m just naïve. Too naïve. I hope things get better. For everyone. The Russian looked at Hans and exited the duelling room.

A small murmur escaped her lips. Eugenia you are my last hope now. And she walked away.

Irina exits this thread.
——————————————————
Pings: @Archer Duncan as Hans Jenssen

——————————✮——✬——✧——☽༓☾——✮——✬——✧——————————

OOC info: I'm sorry if this was too sudden. I just wanted to continue her story in another way.

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

“Irina, listen,” he started, “You’re not an idiot. It’s not your fault. You haven’t gone to far. You shouldn’t blame yourself.” His insistence was evident as he refuted her baseless claims one after the other, but his exhaustion was obvious all the same despite how quickly and naturally words seemed to come. There was no doubt in the pain behind both of their smiles - or more accurately bare shadows of it. With a deep intake of breath, he continued, words genuine yet not with the encouraging edge he had hoped it would come out with, “You have been brave sharing with me, and it is my fault for not being able to return that favour. Thank you for being so open to me even if I cannot do it.” Standing up, Hans took a few uncertain steps away from the girl, bringing his own end to their brief yet, at least to the lost boy, eye-opening meaningful conversation.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt me,” he reassured, “Just be safe, Irina.” Perhaps some would say Hans had developed thick skin over the years, but truthfully considering the state he was in himself Hans was in no position to provide support, let alone to a stranger - and he knew it himself from how he was using her more as a coping mechanism than regarding her as human. Stepping to the side and allowing her to leave in peace, he offered a bittersweet smile hiding the defeated tears he forced down. There were many words left in silence, and he knew they were better there than having been said. Willing nothing but understanding into himself as the girl made her exit, he dipped his head in a quick bid goodbye. Meeting her eye and forcing the familiar wave of helplessness out of himself, he said softly, as if he was stood before a delicate tower of cards he was scared to blow over rather than a girl in flesh and blood, “I hope everything gets better for everyone too. You deserve to be happy Irina, and while I can’t bring you that today, I wish you only the best for you. Farewell.”

Despite the comforting words he managed ringing in his head was the unwelcomely stern voice of his mother. Hans Jenssen, you foolish boy, learn to be more considerate for a change.

You can’t help everyone, especially those who refuse your help. You failed, but at least you tried, right?

@Eugenia Karageorgiadi as Irina Zvereva,