A Matter of Possession
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| ebfhe | OOC Notes: the niffler does not belong to anyone | Mentions: @Magnus Blackwood | WC: 843 | hvhjvhvje |
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The first indication that something was amiss was the emptiness on the pinky finger of Kullervo's right hand. He first noticed it during dinner when he absentmindedly traced over the Ikonen signet ring that his father gave him when he was old enough to understand what it represented. He would often trace the cursive I engraved into the polished silver with his thumb, as though to remind himself of the vow he swore to his father, in case he ever forgot his purpose and to remember his rage. Only this time, his thumb found nothing but smooth milky skin. Kullervo paused before he looked down at his hand, his expression awfully still as it did whenever he concealed his bubbling frustration. He stared at the absence of his very precious ring. He remembered he had it this morning before he left the dormitory. He remembered he had it during breakfast, during lunch. He remembered he had it during his afternoon studies... The sensible conclusion was that he misplaced it somewhere between then and now, but such carelessness was unfathomable for someone like him. The much more irritating conclusion was that someone had taken it. The gall to steal from him unnoticed within the first week of the school year... Regardless of what had happened to it, the point that neither conclusion was acceptable still stood. And he needed to retrieve it instantly. Kullervo departed from dinner early and spent the next half an hour retracing his day's movements. His mission was singular; he would first find his ring for losing it would be the ultimate dishonour, then he would punish the culprit for their crimes against him. He had no proof, of course, that it was even a person who was to blame for his missing ring. It was simply a hunch driven by the objective fact that he was incapable of misplacing his things because that meant losing autonomy over mundane daily life, and that thought alone was the greatest offense. And such a hunch was strengthened by the miniscule clues in the corridor that no one who wasn't as obsessive as Kullervo could notice. The faintest impression in the dust on a stairwell that appeared as though something had been dragged through it and, most suspiciously, pairs of tiny dirty footprints. Animal. Creature. How vile. Kullervo's expression creased with worsening disdain as he chose to follow the footprints. The trail led to an older looking storage room in which the door was already slightly ajar, a faint rustling emitting from within. He pushed the door open and the room was dim, the dust hung in the air due to recent activity, several old crates had been knocked over with their contents scattered across the floor. Such a mess was unbecoming, Kullervo thought. Then, there was movement, and he halted as his glacial eyes tracked the quick dark streak. A small furry creature darted out from within the crates to hide behind some shelving. A niffler... of course. Kullervo watched it for a moment as it rummaged frantically through the scattered contents of the crates, occasionally producing an assortment of stolen trinkets from somewhere amidst the mess. A belt buckle, a handful of coins, a spoon. Then... a flash of silver. His eyes narrowed at the niffler, which now clutched something precious tightly in its little hands before vanishing into the crates again. His signet ring. This filthy little creature had his ring. He stared long and hard before very slowly exhaling through his nose, his voice coming out low and dangerous. "Give it back. Now." The niffler froze, seeming to finally register Kullervo's presence, before scurrying away deeper into the room when he took a measured step forward. He grew more irritated by the second. "Do not make me chase you." He scowled and the niffler responded by disappearing under a particularly large cabinet. He groaned in exasperation. This was beneath him. Entirely beneath him. Arguing with a niffler was unbecoming of an Ikonen, but not as much as leaving his father's ring in the paws of a magical thieving rodent. And with all the indignation a boy his stature could muster, he crouched beside the cabinet and reached under it. The niffler squeaked with equal indignation. "Yes, well, I am considerably less sympathetic to your grievances." Kullervo's hand brushed against something that certainly wasn't his ring nor the niffler, it was cold and mucky, and he immediately retracted his hand in disgust. The niffler took advantage of the distraction, darting out from beneath the cabinet and scrambling to the far side of the room, the silver ring still in its grasp. "Voi ei... oh no..." With clenched fists, Kullervo stood immediately, wiping his hand on his pant leg, and followed the niffler. He swore, when he finally got his hand on that dirty little thief, it would not be pretty. It was astounding how something so small could drive him up a wall like this. He should be embarrassed. But he couldn't care much, he needed his ring back. |
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A Matter of Possession
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⚔︎ | MAGNUS BLACKWOOD ───────── xx CODED BY ELENA CLARK |
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It was honestly hell as besides that trial creating a scandal in its own right due to his father being a descendant of the Romanov family as well as Harvey Dunn father Grigori Dunn being involved just made the whole mess worse. Not that Magnus cared but he swore if he got another flashing blue of light in his eye or questions on how he felt he was going to rip someone apart. As he let out a sigh and fiddled around in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes to smoke one he noticed a familiar niffler he had met in the forest one day while training.
Magnus didn’t understand it at all but the niffler seemed to always know when Magnus was training and where as he’d sit in the cold snow and just watch him workout. It gotten to the point where Magnus would bring it snacks and shiny things to play with as he worked out it was almost kind of sweet. He watched as the little guy ran to him before climbing up his leg and onto his shoulder as he held something in his hand. “What you got there little guy ?” He didn’t take it out of his hand as Magnus knew better than that so he just looked from afar noting how it seemed to be some sort of ring.⚔︎
“LET THE STREETS RUN RED WITH THEIR BLOOD!” ⚔︎ ──────────────────── ⚔︎ sta 3 ; eva 6 ; str 8 ; wis 8 ; arc 2 ; acc 8
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A Matter of Possession
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| ebfhe | OOC Notes: the niffler does not belong to anyone | Mentions: @Magnus Blackwood | WC: 351 | hvhjvhvje |
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Kullervo followed the niffler until he heard a voice accompanying the scurry, something that made his expression twist with unbridled disdain. There was a boy in here. And he'd spoken to the niffler as though he'd known it, the niffler regarding him with similar sentiments. Of course. Creatures were primitive, incapable of behaving in such a way without some sort of guidance, a mastermind to command them like puppets to do their bidding. That must be this boy. The one behind it all, the true thief. And any friend or master of the niffler was certainly no friend to Kullervo, and any chance of that had squandered the second that thing decided his ring was its to take. This boy was an acquaintance to the criminal, therefore equally as responsible as the niffler. "You." Kullervo's voice came out much harsher than intended, having abandoned all restraint in the place of a familiar cold contempt as he glared at the boy who the niffler found itself perched upon. "Are you serious? Does this filthy creature belong to you? You are involved, you set that vile thing up to this, I am certain of it. It is sat upon your shoulder as though it answers to you, as though you arranged this entire elaborate scheme to steal my father's ring." Kullervo's expression only grew more severe, anger bubbling at the thought of someone stealing from him, and his father's ring no less. Way to add insult to injury. And the only more surprising thing than the fact that this boy had already disappointed Kullervo beyond all means within moments of first knowing him, was that he thought the boy's scruffiness surpassed that of the niffler's. And his ring certainly did not belong in the grubby hands of someone who could not be bothered so as to brush his hair. He would not allow it. Kullervo extended his hand, palm faced up expectantly, eyes fixated on the silver glint in the niffler's paws. The creature did not hint at any intention to surrender the ring, and he narrowed his eyes. "Return my property. Now." |
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