The least expected greeted Liliya Starkova as she, skirt ruffled, the top unbuttons of her shirt unceremoniously open, a jacket drawn tightly across her chest, was approached by an unfamiliar figure, English rapid with an amalgamation of desperation and anxiety. Her eyes narrowed as she too disparaging attempted to catch onto the end of her words. Eventually, perhaps a pace too slow than what would have been socially acceptable, she pieced together her words, and managed slips of sentiment in response. She was sorry to bother her — she did not have such a need. She left a water bottle somewhere — Liliya’s eyes naturally scanned the periphery. She would rather not be left in such weather without it — Liliya nodded with polite acceptance.

The drafts of winter was settling in on Castelobruxo’s sultry rainforests, the humidity of the rainforests creating an unbearable atmosphere of chill and moisture combined. Cooled droplets seemed to cling to her, a foreign embrace she had never asked for. She was gracious enough to ignore the stranger’s conclusion, instead choosing to laugh along at her chuckle. It was forced, and evidently so.

Her mind did not so swiftly reach the conclusion that the she-devil in disguise ought not to be trusted. Perhaps it ought to have.

“Oh! Ah- при… hullo.” Her response was one still caught by surprise, and in the unexpected nature of the odd greeting, she fumbled between her languages in search for a reply, the final settling on English uncomfortably loaded. She offered her a meagre smile as her cheeks flushed. Slightly embarrassed, a little thrown off-centre by the sudden request, she thought to make up for it through her helpfulness. Her accent hit stronger than she expected, even in repetition of the stranger’s words as she attempted to confirm the lost object. “Water bottle?”

Whatever the stranger might provide in return, whether it be a nod or a word of affirmation, Liliya would return it with thoughtfulness as her eyes scanned the location once more. She lifted a hand to her chin, and bit her lip, eyes searching. She stood straighter, then confirmed her oblivious nature. She had not seen it, nor could see it without breaking away from the conversation to look under jackets or in corners. “No… but I can help you look for it? Tell me, what is its colour? Shape?”

Those particularly unpractical ‘Stanley’s’ seem to be popular among her Muggle-born friends lately. She wandered, with half a heart of curiosity, if the stranger would indulge in such things.

She took the opportunity to study the unfamiliar girl, a young woman of composure. Standing quite tall for her age, Liliya’s eyes had to flick upwards to meet hers, though only a petite yet nimble 5’1, she had grown accustomed to such accommodations. Although her features were unremarkable, they seemed to carry sincere kindness, and within this moment of shared bonding over a lost water bottle, those eyes seemed truthful in their lost nature. She nodded, and if given any confirmation, would dutifully begin to flip through strewn clothes and search behind dark angles in an attempt to find one matching her description.

Between her swiftly moving hands, she would offer the stranger a few glances. She had soon grown tired of referring to the girl in such a crude manner, and without much ceremony, would offer her own name, hoping that the courtesy would be one returned. “Liliya Starkova,” she said, voice soft, eyes still focused on the smudge of colour that could have signalled her water bottle. “I come from Durmstrang Institute.”

She offered the girl a curious smile. “And you?”

@Jamie Carville | banner by Camille de Varenne