Wolfiee
Meow
Malaika Odion
Uagadou Champion
coded by natasha.
Last edited:
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Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread
- Thread starter Aviator
- Start date
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Gavriel Sylvie
Ilvermorny - Female - Half-Blood - Champion
The grin of pure delight that painted itself upon Gavy’s features was matched only in brightness by the radiant sun-like yellow that overtook her irises and blazed through her hair. Seeing the way Cosmo and Raph reacted to her secret snack closet felt like a dose of pure serotonin as joy rushed through her upon seeing their eyes light up. Food was a sign of friendship and care in many cultures but in Gavy’s eyes that meaning ran deeper. When she was a little girl locked up in a basement and chained up like an animal she went for days without food in attempts by her grandparents to force the demon out of her through spiritual fasting. She knew what is was to truly feel like her stomach might eat itself, to go to sleep and wonder if she would ever open her eyes again, to ration the smallest scrap for as long as she could because she didn’t know if she would ever get another. Her salvation often came in the form of her big sister Annalise. Anna was kind and loved her but the two were seldom allowed to see each other. Only when both her grandparents were out of the house and forgot to hide the key (which didn’t happen often) could Anna sneak down and bring food with her, sometimes even a first aid kit, and those moments were precious to Gavy because they gave her more than just physical aid, they gave her hope. Through all the darkness, cruel words, and hands that brought shame and pain, it was Anna’s gentle touch and kind words that reminded Gavy that she could still see a light and that one day she might be able to reach it. Looking around at the stacks of food and the eager eyes of the young men beside her somewhere in the back of her mind a smaller version of her was holding that light close as she savored the beautiful moment.
“You say that now.” She joked with Cosmo as she gently bumped shoulders with him, a playful smirk pulling at her lips as she tossed him a wink. “I bet between the three of us there will be a massive dent in this place by the end of the week.” She chuckled and knew she would have to personally apologize to the house elves for the snacks that would go missing. They never had a problem with her taking food in the past and she hoped they wouldn’t mind her sharing with friends.
Hearing Raph’s idea she beamed once more and nodded her head enthusiastically. “Raph, my friend, I think you might be a genius!” As she spoke she practically skipped toward a shelf lined with all sorts of chocolates. Clearly knowing the shelves like the back of her hand she swiftly selected a package of chocolate-covered strawberries and chocolate-covered cookie dough bits. “Next time remind me and I’ll bring a bag so we can stock up properly.” She called over her shoulder as she pushed a rolling ladder over to another shelf and scurried up the rungs to select a beautiful-looking strawberry cupcake from one of the higher spaces. “Do you two want anything while I’m up here? Ooooo it looks like they added cookies and cream cakes this year!” She glanced down at Cosmo and Raph, picking up a small cake to show them what she meant.
Before long the trio had gathered as much food as they desired and were waltzing out of the hidden pantry with their spoils clutched to their chests or shoved into their pockets. “Are either of you afraid of heights?” She asked as she glanced from green eyes to hazel with innocent curiosity. When they both confirmed that heights didn’t bother them her hair and gaze flared neon blue once more and she purred, “Wonderful! Then follow me. I’ll show you my favorite place in the entire school!”
Leading the young men down the twisting halls and up more than a few flights of stairs she soon found herself walking along a hall lined with windows on one side. Stopping at the last window along the wall she carefully placed her packaged food on the ground and reached for the hidden latch of the large window, pushing it open so it swung out. Picking up her food once more she stepped out onto a ledge that ran along the outer wall and looked back. “Stick close to the wall and you’ll be fine. It protects from the breeze so you won’t get knocked off.” She instructed before disappearing around the edge of the outer wall. She waited patiently for both young men on the other side and nodded towards a line of statues that stood decoratively along the ledge ahead of them. “Over there, it has the best view.” She explained as she continued along the ledge and soon found herself squeezing between the statues and the wall to a wider ledge that looked out over the mountain and the school grounds, the view vast and showing the world far below. Settling down between the stone paws of a wampus statue with her hair and eyes taking on a pale jade tone (8cdea3) she placed her food beside her and began to open the packages of chocolate-covered strawberries. “Make yourself at home.” She invited and indicated the ledge or the other statues which had equally roomy sitting spots.
Mentions: Raph @captaindanger Cosmo @pearjuice
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
WanderLust.
WildFlower
coded by natasha.
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
The second thing that the glance behind told him was that Bellamy was not the only one who had noticed something amiss. He locked eyes with the girl in the pewter-blue dress, the one who had unceremoniously been shoved aside when the Ilvermorny flock descended on him. Her wand wasn’t drawn yet, but one hand was suggestively reaching toward a slit in the liquid metal of her dress. Hmph, Vasu thought smugly. I’ll take you any day over the Bell Ringer. Bring it, Cinderella. With that, he clutched the cane snugly under one arm and poured on the speed, not having any idea where he was going; just away from the Great Hall, and hopefully not headfirst into a dead end. The corridors smelled subtly of dust and cleaning products and parchment, and the torches that lined the walls produced a slight smoky fragrance. As such, his first clue that someone was indeed pursuing him was not the sound of running feet, which was masked by his own footsteps. But the shift in the molecules of the air to accommodate a sugary smell like fresh fruit with a whipped topping. It was a distinctly girl smell.
Oh, how he’d make her regret trying to play the hero. With no thought or care in his mind but escape, Vasu took a left and, with his free hand, drew his wand. “Reducto!” he cried, and a jet of white light shot from his wand, slamming indiscriminately into the wall. Like a line of dominoes being tipped over, first a few stones dislodged, until the momentum built into a synthetic avalanche. Dust and plaster choked the corridor, and Vasu pulled his shirt over his nose until he’d rounded another corner into cleaner air.
His heart was hammering in a combination of exertion, the thrill of the chase, and the perverse pleasure of destroying public property. A fine sheen of sweat had formed on his brow, but Vasu did not stop, pelting down another hall. Which turned out to be a wise decision, because without warning, the expanse of wall on his right erupted in a thundercloud of debris. A jagged shard nicked him on the side of the neck, and hot wetness trickled down onto the collar of his sherwani. Vasu cursed, more from the inconvenience of the stained fabric than from pain. This was his only sherwani that wasn’t too snug on him, as they weren’t cheap garments. And now it would be ruined if he couldn’t get the blood out. Between his wand and Bellamy’s cane, he didn’t have a free hand to swipe at the wound, and his collar was quickly saturated.
You will pay, he seethed. Vasu waited until he’d skidded around another turn, and then, cleverly hidden from sight until someone would have no choice but to trample it underfoot, he panted, “Incendio!” A waist-high wall of fire sprang up behind him as he ran, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, like he did during a strenuous workout. His stomach somersaulted with nausea, and in a moment of blind panic, Vasu hoped the girl did not catch up to him because he had to stop to hurl. And then he wondered whether there wasn’t a spell that could turn projectile vomit into a weapon. He had promised to make Bellamy’s girlfriend regret antagonizing him, after all. See if the Hogwarts hunk would want her then.
Steam hissed up from the flames as they were doused with a veritable firehose of water, making the hallway reek of sad barbecues and damp stone. As Vasu darted around another corner, he stole a glance back. A feminine silhouette emerged from the steam, all defining features obscured, looking rather like a phantom hellbent on hunting down the living. For the first time, a thrill of fear went through him. She was gaining on him. Refusing to believe that a pristine athlete like him was being outpaced by a girl, he chalked it up to the cane weighing him down as he ran. Only half a hallway-length separated them now. A third. Less. His heart felt ready to smash through the rib cage that held it captive. She had a clear target on his back and, prepared to leap out of the way, as soon as Vasu heard the first syllable of a spell he dove to the floor, clipping his chin painfully on stone. A blast of light whistled over his head. He rolled, clutching his wand and cane to his chest and leaving sunbursts of blood on the floor, and unsteadily came up on one knee, wobbling. Desperate, he pointed his wand and yelped, “Serpensortia!”
Firelight glinted off of scales as a sinuous shape manifested on the floor between Vasu and his assailant. Olive-green and cedar-brown stripes alternated on top, and its underbelly was pale gold. It coiled in on itself like a living, moving length of rope, and when the snake lifted its head and hissed, a heart-shaped hood flared out. A king cobra, the longest venomous snake in the world. Even switching back on itself several times, its body easily spanned the width of the hallway, perhaps ten feet from end to end. With deadly majesty, it drew itself up and bared its fangs at the girl. She’d prudently stopped dead in her tracks, clearly unsure whether fight or flight was the best strategy.
My name is Archimedes, the snake said by way of introduction to Vasu.
Vasu responded in kind. Pleasure to meet you, Archimedes. I am Vasu Saini, son of Shiva, he declared self-importantly.
Son of whom? Archimedes asked with impeccable grammar when one considered the fact that he’d been born less than a minute ago.
Vasu sensed the girl’s interest trained on him like bright searchlights as he conversed with the snake. Time to wrap it up. Never mind. Keep our friend busy as long as you can, but don’t bite her. Just distract her. It was bad enough that their duel had decimated half of the castle’s first floor. Vasu dearly did not want to explain a competitor’s corpse on top of it all.
As you wish, Master, Archimedes replied, which made Vasu momentarily swell with pride.
He lifted his chin haughtily at the cinnamon-haired girl, who was backtracking at the same slow pace that Archimedes slithered up to her. “Best run back to your carriage, Cinderella,” he taunted. “Your clock’s ‘boutta strike twelve.” Cackling to himself, Vasu turned and loped down the hallway, prepared to backtrack toward the Great Hall around the next bend. Then it occurred to him that he’d rushed through the castle with no semblance of direction, and he didn’t even know how his current location related to the Great Hall. It seemed as though he was truly lost. Which made it a really good thing that he’d told Archimedes not to bite his rival, because he was unsure how to call medical attention within these labyrinthine bowels. Not that he would mind eliminating a competitor before the tournament began. She’d brought it on herself when she decided to give chase. But it was the legal ramifications that concerned—
There was a stunning impact that knocked the air clean from his lungs. Vasu was so surprised that he didn’t even register himself falling backwards until his head conked against the stone floor, making his teeth snap together hard. He managed to hang onto his wand, but the cane went flying from his grasp. The sharp clack! it made against the wall was muted by the ringing in his ears. Disoriented and aching from a hundred different points along his body, he tried to curl into a fetal position but found that a weight pinned him to the floor. Vasu peeled his eyes open, blinking rapidly against lights that were suddenly too-bright and strobing. A cloud of confusion descended on him when he saw someone sitting on his chest, a knee on either side of him. Confusion turned to alarm when he recognized the person, and then fury.
“You,” he seethed darkly, the single word a swear.
“Me,” Cha-Cha agreed pleasantly. Looking none the worse for wear after their collision, he jumped to his feet without stepping on Vasu in a feat of impressive agility. “Oh, my! So sorry, here, let me help you up. You poor thing. I hope I didn’t hit you too hard? You look absolutely wrecked, kiddo,” Cha-Cha gushed, extending a good-natured hand to Vasu. Vasu was unsure which part of the torrent of words bothered him most: being called “kiddo”; Cha-Cha pretending to care about his well-being; or that Vasu decoded “absolutely wrecked” as a way of saying, You look like shit while maintaining a polite guise. Vasu decided that what bothered him most was the fact that Cha-Cha, despite the false sympathy dripping from his voice, looked way too cheery to have just body-checked a nominal prince in the Indian Wizarding World, which would have been a punishable offense if done by a Muggle-born in his home country. Cha-Cha was smiling brightly, as if he’d unexpectedly run into an old friend in the figurative sense.
Ignoring the fireworks detonating in his head, Vasu glared pointedly at the helping hand outstretched to him. Over the course of several seconds, he shambled into a standing position on his own power, flinging his arms out for balance when he tipped to one side. His first instinct was to retrieve the cane, but he didn’t want to draw attention to the stolen item, so he let it be. Instead he took in Cha-Cha’s appearance. With his hair hanging in a wild curtain about his shoulders and his fairy tale-red suit jacket a rumpled mess, he looked like a debauched ringmaster. The finishing touch was the torn ankle of one of his khakis, which Vasu imagined couldn’t have been the result of their collision.
Cha-Cha managed to retract his hand with no visible discomfort at being rejected. “You’re bleeding, did you know?” he asked, skimming his fingers along the side of his own neck where Vasu had been cut.
“No, really? I didn’t notice. The big bucks they pay you at Castelobruxo ain’t for nothing, I see,” Vasu said snidely, his words slurring only slightly. Cha-Cha opened his mouth to reply, but Vasu didn’t particularly feel like hearing him. He continued, undeterred, “What’s a professor doing running around Ilvermorny halls at the dead of midnight, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to stop students from doing that kinda thing?”
“I saw a ghost, and it frightened me,” Cha-Cha said automatically, the knee-jerk response of a rehearsed lie. His face even gave a guilty little twinge. To cover for his slip, he said, “Now that you mention it…” and adopted a pensive pose with his chin propped on one hand. His gaze shifted along the hallway, taking in the fallen cane, the blood on Vasu’s sherwani, his sweat-dampened curls, the wand clutched in one hand. “I could ask you the same thing.” There was a soft, dangerous note in his voice, like the snap of static in still air.
“A ghost, huh?” Vasu persisted, unwilling to change to an incriminating subject. “Must have been one hell of a ghost. Do they not have them in the Castelobruxo castle? You don’t seem the type to scare easily.” If it meant saving his own skin, he’d flatter Cha-Cha all day and night, as much as it bruised his pride.
Cha-Cha removed the hand from his face and shrugged breezily. “Everyone’s afraid of something,” he deflected.
Vasu went on the offensive again. “What were you really running from?”
The professor smiled at him again, gently, almost boyishly, and held his gaze. His eyes were warm and black like the soot left from a recent fire. Vasu realized how very pleasant Cha-Cha smelled, dark and spicy, like incense and eras gone by and silver light secrets. It was a familiar aroma, but Vasu couldn’t place how. He suddenly felt very relaxed.
“What’s got you so worked up, Vasu? Eight-thousand miles from home and about to embark on the opportunity of a lifetime, you should be happy, no?”
Vasu paused, his jaw slack. He had been about to say something, but he forgot what. He shrugged it off; it must not have been important, then. “Um,” he stammered, feeling suddenly off-balance and unsure of himself. “I’m not sure I… know what that means. Or how to do it.” His face heated as though beneath a spotlight, sure that his answer made him sound stupid.
Cha-Cha made a little hm sound, as if this revelation was disappointing but not altogether surprising. “How does failure make you feel, Vasu? Does the prospect scare you?”
“More than anything,” Vasu replied, startled by the certainty of his answer. Cha-Cha stared at him intently, until Vasu flushed under the heat of his attention and spoke just to fill the silence. “Aditi never lets me forget it when I fail. Just this morning when I was getting on the train to Ilvermorny she embarrassed me in front of Mum and Ekta and all the other kids within earshot,” he rambled, oblivious to the fact that Cha-Cha didn’t know who Aditi or Ekta was. “She told me loudly not to party too hard again, ‘cuz she’s not paying for another hospital bill. And then Ekta was all wide-eyed and tugging on her skirt for the full story, which I’m sure she divulged the moment I left. Can you believe that? What the hell is her problem!” Vasu was shouting at this point, and he abruptly quieted, blushing madly. “She has these surreal fucking expectations of me for, I don’t even know what. But it’s never enough when I make the top ten on the dean’s list, or when the Red Court loses the international final.”
Cha-Cha tilted his head thoughtfully. “Expectations are a funny thing. When you’re born with them, you resent them, fight against them. When you’ve never been given any, you feel the lack of them your whole life.” He scrutinized Vasu like one would a complicated and layered painting. “What do you think are Chitrita’s expectations for you, Vasu?”
The name was an electric current ripping through Vasu. The syllables clashed and reverberated in his skull, snapping him out of whatever daze he’d been in. Horror and rage warred inside him. How much had he told Cha-Cha? Why had he said those things? He was sure, however, that he had not mentioned Chitrita. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” he spat.
A terrible smile played on Cha-Cha’s lips. “Ah. So that’s what it takes.”
Demon, Vasu thought, his mind reeling, heart racing. The Castelobruxo professor is rakshasa. It was a name for malevolent spirits in Hindu mythology with unearthly powers that they used to perpetuate sin.
At that moment, there was a sound of slippers slapping on stone behind him. Vasu whirled. Having finally found a way past Archimedes, Cinderella stood behind him, glaring daggers. Her grip tightened on her wand. But when she saw him standing with a professor, she faltered, unsure. She advanced slowly, wand raised and gaze flashing between Vasu, Cha-Cha, and Bellamy’s fallen cane.
In a swift motion, Vasu lunged to the side and scooped up the cane. He hadn’t come this far to be stopped now. But with Cha-Cha and Cinderella standing on either side of him, he felt like a cornered king on a chessboard, nowhere to run, one wrong move from disaster. Unlike Bellamy’s girlfriend, Cha-Cha hadn’t yet adopted an aggressive stance, so Vasu edged reluctantly in his direction, looking for an opening to bolt.
“Vasu, I can’t let you make off with stolen property. Please hand over the cane,” Cha-Cha sighed, as if having to exercise authority responsibly and not for his personal amusement displeased him. And then, when this failed to elicit a surrender: “What would Chitrita think if she knew she was marrying a petty thief?”
Something black and hateful awoke inside of Vasu. Before he was fully aware of his own actions, he brandished his wand and cast “Petrificus Totalus!” at the demon who could see into souls.
Cha-Cha swept the binding charm aside with a careless flick of his wrist, as if he were shooing away a bee. A wandless flick of his wrist, Vasu noted with incredulity. But then again, this was not the strangest thing to have happened during his conversation with Cha-Cha. The long-haired wizard smiled, looking more amused than offended at the attack against him. “You don’t want to do this,” Cha-Cha said in a way that Vasu suspected Cha-Cha very much wanted him to do it.
While Vasu was distracted, Cinderella seized the opportunity to fire off a disarming spell at his back. Which would have hit him squarely between the shoulder blades, if not for Cha-Cha grabbing him by the wrist and swinging him out of the way.
He released Vasu and turned to the girl in the blue dress. “Don’t do that, my love,” he said, suddenly serious. “Dueling outside of tournament challenges is strictly forbidden between competitors. I am obligated to report any spell, hex, or jinx you use successfully in combat. I, on the other hand…” Cha-Cha turned back to Vasu, who’d been trying to retreat as discreetly as possible with the cane while Cha-Cha addressed Cinderella. “Will be taking that cane now, Vasu.” His voice rang like a thunderclap.
Suddenly, Vasu’s muscles seized, and he stilled. Panic clenched tight around his chest. And then, unbidden, he tottered toward Cha-Cha, taking jerky steps. Vasu felt his eyes expand so wide in his head that it was a miracle they didn’t pop out. He tried to dig his heels into the floor to stop his momentum, to scream, but he had no control over his own body. His arm snapped out from his side with a suddenness that pained his shoulder, extending the cane to Cha-Cha. “Thank you,” he said affably, as if Vasu were doing him a favor of his own free will, and not because of demonic compulsion. Cha-Cha accepted the cane with a smile.
He turned the cane over in his hands, examining its craftsmanship. Vasu wondered whether his powers extended to reading objects as well as people, but somehow, he doubted it. “Now then,” Cha-Cha mused. He looked up at Vasu, as if just remembering that the paralyzed boy was still here. “You will wait for me here”—one of his eyes twitched, and Vasu’s legs buckled beneath him so that he was kneeling on the floor—“while I turn in the cane and report your attempted thievery to administration. Understood?”
Cha-Cha asked the question like he expected a response, but Vasu’s jaw was clamped shut, which he discovered when he tried to invoke a string of obscenities. As he knelt on the cold floor, his arms forced straight at his sides and his head tilted back to look at Cha-Cha, tension built in his neck, but he couldn’t crack it. Vasu felt helpless, like a fly trussed in a spider’s web. He burned with impotent rage, and found that his lungs would not accommodate the uptick in his pulse, leaving him feeling breathless and light-headed. Still, he did not slump from his rigid posture.
Because he could not tip his head down, he almost missed it. The thing. Moving along the floor. Sashaying its wide curves leisurely, like a woman’s hips.
Cha-Cha cleared his throat and turned halfway around. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me, mademoiselle? I think the Headmistress would find your testimony of tonight’s events most helpful.” He gasped audibly and tried to jump back when he saw the king cobra coiled behind him, but a ten-foot snake has a damnable range. Vasu’s muscles slumped as control returned to his body, and his first action was to scuttle backward so that Cha-Cha did not step on his hand.
I shall avenge you, Master, Archimedes vowed solemnly, his hood expanding in reptilian menace. And then he struck at Cha-Cha, sinking his fangs into the exposed ankle where his pants were torn.
WanderLust.
WildFlower
coded by natasha.
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
Vasu stared in bemusement. He’d regained voluntary control of his body when Cha-Cha had flinched away from the snakebite, yet the unlikeliness of the Castelobruxo professor’s behavior had rendered him speechless anew. Wondering whether the venom had already addled his adversary’s brain, he exchanged a slow look with Cinderella. A deep frown creased her brows, and Vasu sensed his own uncertainty of how to reply mirrored in her expression. If they were expected to reply at all, and Cha-Cha wasn’t just talking to himself. At least this unexpected development had stopped her from trying to attack him.
There was a soft rustle of scales over linoleum floor. Something curled gently over his foot, and Vasu looked down to where Archimedes’s green-and-brown body undulated in an optical illusion. What is this fool blathering about? Archimedes hissed, and despite snakes technically hissing all of their dialogue, this time there was real contempt in his voice. I injected him with all the venom I had. In twenty minutes he will cease to exist if he does not act quickly.
Vasu stooped and extended his hand, palm upturned, inviting Archimedes to climb up his arm. The cobra accepted, ascending with a leathery coolness, wrapping his long body along Vasu’s shoulders like a scaly, ostentatious accessory worn by Hollywood’s most daring icons. Good boy, Vasu said with a chuckle, pleased at the news of the imminent threat to Cha-Cha’s life. He stroked the top of Archimedes’s triangular head with two fingers. That’ll show him not to mess with us again.
“Ah,” Cha-Cha said, his head tilted pensively as he observed the exchange between snake and boy. “You're a Parselmouth.”
At this direct address from a man who had hypnotized him into sharing his worst insecurities and then taken control of him like a puppet, fury shot through Vasu like a bolt of lightning. “And you're a jackass,” he fired back.
Cha-Cha’s lips twitched. “A jackass who doesn't need his pets to come to his rescue.” He gave a thoughtful pause. “Also a jackass who didn't nearly piss himself a minute ago.”
“Well, I guess you won't have to worry about that ever again if you're dead, huh? By all means, keep talking.”
They kept sniping back and forth in such a manner until a flicker of motion in his peripheral vision made Vasu turn. At first he thought it was Cinderella, seizing the cane that Cha-Cha had dropped in the name of justice. But she was rooted in place, as if conflicted about soliciting external help when she could be implicated in destroying part of the castle. Past her, dark and noiseless as a shadow, stood Theodore West. His features were obscured by the backlight of torches, but the broad shoulders poking out of a wine-colored suit were a dead giveaway. He moved forward, as slow and cautious as Vasu had ever seen him. When the light shifted over his face, his gaze was hard as flint, ready to strike a spark. It was a disconcerting change from the smirking scoundrel cracking jokes at Vasu’s expense in the music room.
He must be surprised by the serious turn that your game took, Archimedes theorized, sensing Vasu’s unease.
Or just put off by the ten-foot reptilian friend who I spontaneously wished into existence, Vasu answered. At the suggestion that he was the source of Theodore’s discomfort, Archimedes bristled, his body tensing against Vasu. After all, the king of snakes is a magnificent sight to behold. This praise seemed to mollify Archimedes somewhat, and he relaxed.
As Theodore drew nearer down the dim corridor, Vasu saw that he was not alone. As it always did, his heart skipped a beat when he identified Chitrita, equal parts giddy and nervous.
“Oh, how sweet,” Cha-Cha drawled in a saccharine tone that immediately set Vasu’s teeth on edge. “It must be reassuring to know that you have friends who will back you up in a fight. Wouldn’t want to think where you’d be without them.” The words were candy-coated malice, carefully spaced to make room for poison. The suggestive way that Cha-Cha pronounced back you up sounded suspiciously close to save your ass so that they don’t have to pick up the pieces.
Now it was Vasu’s turn to bristle. With any luck, we’ll see how many friends turn up at your funeral tomorrow, you smug bastard, he thought but held his tongue. Somehow, he thought that giving attitude to another school’s professor wouldn’t score him any points in Chitrita’s book. Plus, the longer that Cha-Cha taunted him, the more precious minutes drained away. Vasu suppressed a devious smile. Fool indeed, he whispered to Archimedes.
When Chitrita moved into the light, Cha-Cha’s expression brightened. Vasu noticed how his face was now glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, his raven hair hanging in damp, languid waves around his shoulders. “Speak of the devil,” Cha-Cha crooned, inviting the question of what had been said about Chitrita. “Vasu cares for you—well, about you—deeply, Chitrita. You’re a lucky girl.”
The quick correction seared through Vasu, a bitter liquor going down his throat. He knew that Cha-Cha was trying to play some kind of game, but he was unsure what it was, only that it made him angry. He also knew that being drawn into conversation with Cha-Cha was a dangerous mistake. A protective instinct that Vasu was used to feeling only for Ekta welled up inside him. He did not know whether Cha-Cha had any inclination to make Chitrita yield up her deepest, darkest secrets like Vasu had, but he was not keen on finding out. So he jumped back into the conversation before she could. “Something you want to say, Professor?” he cut in, a defensive edge in his voice. “When we Indians converse, we speak in a straight line. We don’t go around in circles. So I apologize in advance for any barriers in communication.” Vasu smiled tightly. Barely tempered passive-aggressiveness was the most cordial response he could muster.
Cha-Cha smiled again, unfazed. “Just wanted to extend my blessing for the—”
Vasu praised Indra, king of the gods, and all four Vedas that Cha-Cha did not get the chance to complete that statement. Heedless of the highly venomous snake, Theodore brushed past Cinderella and kept advancing until he was close enough to reach out and clasp Vasu by the shoulder, spinning him roughly so that he was facing the Hogwarts champion. Archimedes’s tongue flicked out with a soft hiss at being jostled. Theodore’s words fell with the finality of an executioner’s ax, and it took Vasu a moment to realize that they were, in fact, a question. The larger boy reeked of plaster dust and sweat and, strangely, a note of something sweet, like mandarin oranges.
Vasu was trying to think of some way to answer the question without either humiliating himself or flying into another rage, but Cha-Cha beat him to it. “This boy was trying to run off with stolen property, so I intercepted him. I was just on my way to report him,” he said calmly. Everyone’s head swiveled toward him when he spoke, despite him not having a particularly loud, commanding, or melodic voice. If anything, his accent gave him a strange stress pattern that made listeners occasionally have to lean in to understand him. “Of course,” he added brightly, “I’m sure your timely appearance very far from the student dormitories was purely coincidental, so rest assured, I currently have no reason to mention anyone else’s names.” He smiled widely in a way that reminded Vasu of a blade being drawn.
“Now then,” Cha-Cha continued. His eyes fell on Cinderella, and they were dark and glassy like the surface of a lake on a night with no moon. “Your assistance with my report would be most appreciated, my love. Shall we get going, then?” He moved toward the fallen cane with stiff, shuffling steps that looked like they might pass a sobriety test issued by a lenient officer. But when he crouched to pick it up, he didn’t stand a chance. A tremor ran through the leg that Archimedes had bitten, and Cha-Cha gave a short yelp as he pitched toward the floor. Groaning, he shoved sweat-slick hair out of his face with one hand. With the other he peeled up his pant leg, revealing an angry-red ankle swollen to twice its size and oozing yellow pus.
Archimedes lifted his head so that it was level with Vasu’s ear. If snakes can laugh, he did, in a breathy, conspiratorial way, even though Vasu was very likely the only one in the hall who could understand him. Told you so. Twenty minutes, my tail.
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Professor Birger Einar
Durmstrang - Male - Pureblood - History of Magic Professor
As one by one the individuals began to peel away from the small group that had gathered, Einar bowed his head and bid the others goodnight. Taking his leave the old man’s cane tapping rhythmically with each step echoed down the silent halls as moonlight streamed through the windows and made the old wolf’s beard almost seem to glow silver as his glacier-blue gaze swept over the decorated walls. He wordlessly took in the art that hung on display as the paintings snoozed in their portraits and tapestries brought scenic splashes of color even in the dead of night. He paused before one tapestry that looked ancient but well cared for and depicted an array of animals lined up along the shore of a lake and one by one taking towards the sky where they became one with the heavens in the form of constellations. As the tapestry moved a small fox took flight upon the threads and as it lept through the night sky a trail of light remained in its wake, the ever breathtaking northern lights dancing across the sparkling sky. Einar stood and observed the scene over and over with great appreciation for the lovely details woven into every part of it. Each creature looked as though it were truly taking in breaths of air, each star looked to truly shine in the heavens, and each flicker of the northern lights seemed to bounce off the walls around the tapestry, it was art at its finest in his eyes.
Blinking fondly at the tapestry a final time the elder professor turned and continued his moonlit stroll through the dark halls of Ilvermorny. It had been several minutes since he had seen or heard any other signs of life aside from the gentle snores of portraits and his own occasional cough. All across the school he knew that students were still likely awake and enjoying the celebration, though he imagined some might have already made their way towards bed after such a full day of travel. Part of him was grateful for the opportunity to be alone in this moment, to simply have time to stroll, to think, to appreciate. Years ago, after the slaughter of his family, Einar had been unable to be left alone with his own thoughts. He couldn’t handle the horrible silence that welcomed dark memories and so he took to singing to himself. Now years later and through great healing efforts he was able to enjoy time to himself once again, his mind not consumed by darkness and horrors or at least not as much. He never truly gave up his gentle singing though, his deep voice like smooth rolling thunder as he hummed one of his favorite tunes.
“Kven skal synge meg
I daudsvevna slynge meg
Når eg på Helvegen går
Og dei spora eg trår
Er kalde, så kalde
Eg songane søkte
Eg songane sende
Då den djupaste brunni
Gav meg dråpar så ramme
Av Val-”
The low hum of words died on his lips as the sound of frantic footsteps began to echo through the halls. Instantly the old wolfs curiosity flared to life and drove him onward toward the sound of multiple voices coming from a chamber further down the corridor. As he approached Einar's sharp ears picked up on a voice he recognized as Cha-Cha's as well as several others he had only truly heard a few times this evening including Vasu Saini and Theodore West. An interesting combination of individuals indeed. Rounding the corner Einar announced his arrival with the sound of his cane on the stone floor, not a pounding but a slightly firmer strike than when he normally walked, as well as the clearing of his throat. "So it seems the gathering migrated from the great hall?" He began with a nod toward the students and his fellow professor. His arctic gaze swept across the scene before him and he tilted his head. His eyes took note of Cha-Cha's appearance and soon narrowed to catch sight of where the professors pant leg had rolled up. "Chahaya stop. Take a rest." He instructed, his usual warm rumble expelling out as firm instructions as he spoke and moved closer to the young man. He may not be a healer or a nurse but he could recognize a venomous bite when he saw one from his years out in the field hunting down dark wizards through all sorts of terrain. "Moving will only make it worse."
Mentions: Cha-Cha
Aviator
as well as everyone else with Cha-Cha haha!
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
code by valen t.
irregular-neptune
i never know whats goin on
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Aurelia Quansah
Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary
Splitting off from Malaika, Auri made her way with confident strides through the halls she had never walked before. During the journey to the United States the young heiress-to-be had taken it upon herself to learn the layout if Ilvermorny via blueprints, schematics, and magical imagery. What might have taken another individual days to learn had taken her only a few hours as her photographic memory locked every layer and room of the school within her mind palace to be recalled whenever she might need it, such as now. While others might be off exploring in the hopes of finding some sort of hidden chamber or secret sweet stash Auri had her heart set on finding what she believed to be one of the most important places in any school. Her dark mahogany gaze swept over the ornate double doors of her destination and gently her fingers reached up to admire the metalwork before finally pushing the door open enough for her to slip through.
Soundlessly closing the door behind her Aurelia turned with eager eyes and looked upon the stacks and stacks of books lining the shelves of Ilvermorny’s library. She didn’t know if she was the first of the visitors to come here tonight but she did hope that if any others had ventured here they might have already moved off to another location. She had done her duty of socializing and strategizing, she had done everything she could to make her grandmother proud, now all she wanted was to nestle in among the written word and lose herself in a story. Gliding from shelf to shelf her slender fingers danced across the delicate spines of the books as she took in their titles and hoped to find one that might truly stand out to her. She had read a great deal of non-fiction and biographies lately so her taste was leaning more towards fantasy and adventure above all else. As useful as fact could be there was always a great comfort to be found in the epic stories one could only come up with in their mind.
As her pale painted nail delicately dragged from one book to another her dark gaze finally settled on the amber spine of a book titled ‘Elegance in Exile’ by Phoebe Harhawk. The title alone was enough to drive Auri to pluck the well-worn book from the shelf and the art imprinted on the cover only drove her curiosity onwards. Making her way over towards the plush chairs by the windows of the library Auri carefully flipped the cover of the book open and began to take in the story within. Within the first paragraph alone she knew this story would be one she would enjoy despite how tragic she could already forsee it becoming. After all, everyone who knew anything about unicorns knew how peaceful they were as creatures. So for a story to be written of one banished from her herd after taking a life to save a life…well that was certainly enough to grab the young readers' attention.
With the dim candlelight flickering around her Auri found herself at peace as the story took her into its embrace and painted her mind with the detailed imagery of the unicorn, Calista’s, crimes, and her reasons for committing them. As noble as her intentions had been in slaughtering a dark wizard to save a member of her herd Calista was still guilty of an ultimate crime in unicorn law and was thus banished to wander the world alone and without a herd for the remainder of her days. The interesting turn came when Calista used her magic to grant herself a human form and took up residence on a pirate ship with a crew dedicated to finding the ultimate treasure that would grant anyone who found it one wish.
It became all too easy for Auri to lose track of the time as she was consumed by the story within her hands. The candles flickered and the semi-silent clock ticked on and on but Auri didn’t mind as she found peace within the pages before her.
Mentions: OPEN
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
Wolfiee
Meow
Angelique Chimere
Professor
coded by natasha.
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)
Beauxbatons - Female - Muggle Born - Secondary
TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR ABUSE AND DEATH IN THIS POST!!!
As the duo strolled across the school grounds under the slightly clouded summer night sky Naomi couldn’t help but find Piper to be a delightfully curious individual. She couldn’t quite figure out what to make of him other than that he seemed to be genuinely sweet though something about him seemed unsettled. She didn’t often think of herself as one that might intimidate others, especially when first meeting them, but the way Piper’s brook blue gaze kept glancing around made her wonder if perhaps she had done something to make him uneasy. They had talked about schools and travel and she had mentioned being able to see other institutions through the quidditch competitions she had participated in. If any of that had struck a nerve with the young man she hoped he would come to realize it hadn’t been her intention and she hadn’t meant to sound as though she might be trying to gloat. Parting her lips in the hopes of turning the conversation towards something perhaps a bit more enjoyable for the young man she found her words had no chance to escape her tongue before Piper’s soft warning cut her off. “Wrong?” She asked and looked around feeling unease begin to swell in her gut.
All around her she could only sense the gentle night breeze and hear the chirp of crickets with a few frogs throwing in their throaty melody. “I don’t-” She began in a soft voice, a mere whisper in hopes of not drawing the attention of whatever it was Piper had detected. Her words were once again thwarted as Piper turned to her with his wand out and begged her to stay put while he went off on his own to investigate the way before them. “Piper if somethings wrong we should…” She trailed off as the clouds passed over the moon and light washed the courtyard, hitting the young man before her and showing the desperation that shone within his stone-blue gaze. “Okay…I’ll stay.” She found herself promising before she even realized the words were out of her mouth.
Her promise seemed to be enough for the young man as only a heartbeat later his sandy blonde head was disappearing into the darkness before them. Standing alone in the courtyard with her own wand drawn Naomi’s mahogany gaze scanned the darkness for any sign of Piper or whatever it was he had sensed. For a moment the entire world seemed still, as though holding its breath, before suddenly in the distance a humming began to dance across the wind. Cold terror settled in the pit of Naomi’s stomach as she heard the tune. The world around her seemed to shift and the grass that tickled her toes vanished, the cool night air disappearing with it and being replaced by the sickening scent of burning orange peels and cheap perfume.
~~~
You look like an angel (look like an angel)
Walk like an angel (walk like an angel)
Talk like an angel
But I got wise
The scream of steam escaping a small space and old American rock & roll filled her ears as she knelt with silent tears burning her eyes.
You're the devil in disguise
Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise
The cries she wanted so badly to release died in her throat as she bit her inner cheek until the taste of copper flowed freely over her tongue.
You fooled me with your kisses
You cheated and you schemed
Heaven knows how you lied to me
You're not the way you seemed
All around her voices spat venomous words at her as her head was forced down against the table and she pinned her own hands beneath her knees.
You look like an angel (look like an angel)
Walk like an angel (walk like an angel)
Talk like an angel
But I got wise
She learned long ago that it was better not to fight back. A closed fist falling over her head, neck, and shoulders over and over again was better than some blunt object within reach. The cheap lab-grown topaz ring adorning the fists middle finger slicing into her soft flesh every few strikes was better than an improvised weapon from the kitchen.
You're the devil in disguise
Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise
Her breath caught in her chest and she bit back another yelp as the belt came down across her back again and again
I thought that I was in heaven
But I was sure surprised
Heaven help me, I didn't see
The devil in your eyes
With every fiber of her being she prayed for it to stop. The flames, the violence, the words, the music, all of it. The smoking and soft glow that ran across the discarded fruit skin mocked her any time she managed to open her eyes. She hadn’t meant for the orange peels to catch fire, she would never have done such a thing on purpose.
You look like an angel (look like an angel)
Walk like an angel (walk like an angel)
Talk like an angel
But I got wise
She had simply looked at them for too long perhaps? Or was it just because she wished her grandmother would throw them away instead of leaving them spread across the table? No matter. This was the last thing she wanted. She tried so hard to bury it all within her, to keep the unnatural at bay. Alas her best efforts were simply never good enough, a point she was reminded of as the combination of fist and belt came down upon her again and again.
You're the devil in disguise
Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise
She couldn’t even feel the warmth of blood running through her scalp or along her back through all the pain. She could hear the voices of her family as they shrieked like banshees into her ear but not as loudly as the king of American rock and roll shouted his own words of torment.
You're the devil in disguise
Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise
Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise
Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise
Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise
Thump. Wack. Thump. Wack. Thump. Wack. Over and over and over and over again. And still, she could not allow herself to make a sound, to open up, for who knows what else might escape along with her voice if she were to try?
~~~
Thick black sentient sand tore through the courtyard, uprooting trees, shredding flags, and smashing columns as it went. All signs of life had vanished within the courtyard aside from the dark entity that had surged forth from its prison and marked the land with its rage. Its destructive sights seemed set on tearing apart all things lovely before it, bringing the beautiful scenery to a devastating end.
The blast of a spell into its side seemed to draw the entity's attention away from its carnage and onto a towering individual who stood with his wand at the ready. A poor brave soul that was soon snuffed out as the dark sands and smoke tore through his massive being and tossed him around like a ragdoll. His body forced to twist and contort as the entity took out its pent-up rage upon his flesh even after the light faded from his wide terror-stricken gaze.
Finally as though too exhausted or perhaps called away the entity let the young giant’s body drop to the ground. Retreating back into its host the obscurus disappeared as suddenly as it had made its entrance and in the space it once occupied left lay the crumpled and unconscious form of Naomi.
Mentions: Piper
honeycoves
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
WanderLust.
WildFlower
coded by natasha.
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “Magnificent Bastard” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
Dreading what he would find, he steeled himself and hiked up his torn pant leg. Cha-Cha prided himself on his ability to remain calm in a crisis, but his stomach somersaulted at what he saw: His ankle had swollen to such an extent that it was more circular than cylindrical, and it glowed the red of an emergency siren. The puncture marks wept yellow pus in citrine tears. The various tattoos on his lower leg were stretched disproportionately wide, distorted like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. Panic suddenly swept him up. Would he have to get the leg amputated? Strangely, this thought bothered him more than the possibility of dying, which apparently was growing by the minute, if not by the second.
Then there was a rough voice like a serrated knife, obviously not belonging to any of the four assembled students. Cha-Cha lifted his gaze awkwardly, curled as he was on the floor, and his vision swam as he tried to focus on a new, farther away point. He made out a pair of massive, heavy boots tromping toward him. The next time that the voice spoke, Cha-Cha recognized its owner. Not wanting to believe his ears, he issued a new groan, the source of this one something other than pain. This was not how he wanted his former mentor to see him for the first—well, second, if you counted the feast—time in fifteen years. The renowned Auror who had been especially hired by Koldovstoretz to train a winning champion of the Triwizard Tournament. The man who had trained Cha-Cha to cast spells without wand or word because he’d been forbidden magical instruments during their lessons. The man who had assigned him to brew and bottle Amortentia and resist the pull of its bewitching wiles. The man who had taught him to harness the four winds as a weapon, and the man who had taught him not to fear the words that Cha-Cha heard without ears. It was Einar’s lessons that had turned Cha-Cha into a weapon, whose tutorage had enabled him to kill and steal secrets with ease.
In fifteen years, Cha-Cha’s first words to his former mentor were “Fuck off, Einar… please.” However, they were spoken half into the floor, and even without that obstruction, Cha-Cha’s tongue felt heavy and clumsy, as if it was racing his ankle to balloon in size. All in all, the sounds that came from him sounded closer to Fuh ough, Eye-yuh. And then, feeling clever even if inarticulate, he countered, “Yuh pre-hens mase eh-ree-hing worrh.” Your presence makes everything worse.
Heedless of Cha-Cha’s dissent, Birger Einar stooped over his former protege and examined the snakebite. His face creased in thought. And then he drew his wand and started chanting. When he finished, a burst of pain rocketed up Cha-Cha’s leg, and he gave a guttural cry. “Fer fuss sake, yerr gon be ha ree-hun I loo muh leg! Baah ha hell uhp.” Cha-Cha reached for the wand tucked up the right sleeve of his jacket, but when he tried to move his arm, his fingers gave the barest twitch. Horror drained the blood from his face, and he swallowed loudly. His mouth immediately filled with sour saliva again.
Einar glanced around helplessly, as if acknowledging that the venom was outside of his ability to neutralize and he was seeking alternate solutions. And then, as a new thought occurred to Cha-Cha, a spike of fear hit him. Perhaps Einar would attempt to take him to the infirmary. But he couldn’t explain how he’d come to be bitten by a cobra without prompting the question of what he’d been doing wandering the darkened lecture halls of Ilvermorny in the middle of the night. It would be all too easy for a connection to be made between Bellini’s torched rooms and the injury that Cha-Cha had sustained while fleeing the scene of the crime, both of which had happened around the same time.
Before he could object, the world around him undulated as Einar’s leathery, bearded face was replaced with one framed by long, tortilla-brown hair, ruby lips parted in surprise, mascaraed eyes flared wide. It was the girl in the blue dress who’d chased after Vasu, the one whom he had mentally dubbed Cinderella. As much as Cha-Cha was loath to agree with the owner of the snake that would possibly claim his life, he had to admit, it was a befitting nickname. She had a terrible habit of flipping her hair back and straightening her shoulders into self-righteous, princess-perfect posture. For an unknown reason, this struck him as wildly funny, and he giggled into the cranberry-and-blue checkered carpet, though it sounded more like the choking of a rabbit trapped in a hunter’s snare. Drool trickled between his lips, dampening the carpet beneath his face. Gradually, Cha-Cha stopped laughing, finding that he was terribly tired. Exhausted from the day’s events: running after a moving train, holding the hands of one student who couldn’t say boo and another who was lovesick for a competitor, downing a whole bottle of wine at dinner, and then committing arson the good old-fashioned way without the use of magic. How delightful a nap would be right now. He closed his eyes, just for a few minutes…
A surge of sensation roared through him. It was like putting your lips to a straw and having a whole river poured down your throat. Just before he was washed away, Cha-Cha realized that the sensory impressions he was experiencing were not his own, and they were not happening at this moment in time. Rather, he was reliving someone else’s memories. Pent-up thoughts and feelings, agonizing in their desperation, flooded over him. In the midst of them all, the girl named Kiara Sinclaire glowed like a new sun.
He felt the loving caress of a mother brushing hair back from his forehead. In a language he didn’t understand, a pleasant voice read from a book with a cover that depicted a fair-haired boy with pointed ears and green clothes playing a pan flute. As she read, his eyes drooped, and he snuggled down into fleece blankets, soaking in their blissful warmth. Soon her voice was reduced to a sweet droning in the background, and he dreamed that he was flying.
And then he was actually flying, and it was much more forceful than it had been in dreams. The skin on his face felt like it was peeling off, and the wind tore at his hair. Scales dug into his legs, rough and slightly sharp, and his hands bore shallow cuts from their edges. There was a euphoric weightlessness in his stomach. His ears were pierced by a wave of sound as the creature beneath him shrieked with a volume on par with the eruption of a small volcano. Fear briefly battled with the wonder inside him, but it lost out as the dragon caught the wind with its wings and banked, slow and steady and glorious.
The memory ejected Cha-Cha, spitting him out into his own body. But everything was limned in silvery light like he was seeing the sun from underwater, indicating that he had yet to surface to corporeal reality. This time he was a passenger, though, observing Kiara from a third-person perspective. And oh, was he getting the eyeful that he’d never asked for. Cha-Cha’s stomach bottomed out and he flushed madly. Kiara was entangled with a brown-haired boy her own age, her hands laced around his neck and her mouth moving urgently against his. Cha-Cha cringed away as if burned, but not before recognizing Kiara’s lover. It was the Winter boy, the one who had taken the stage with Clara, Cha-Cha’s semi-psychotic fangirl. The fact that he was watching the scene vicariously and not experiencing it as Kiara—and thank all the powers that be for that—implied that it was a fantasy, rather than something that had actually happened. Plus the statistical improbability that Kiara had known the Winter boy before tonight.
Deciding that he’d seen more than enough, Cha-Cha turned and found a door inexplicably standing behind him, rippling faintly in the watery film of unreality that clung to Kiara’s fantasy. He opened it and stepped through. And lurched violently back into his own body. A twitch traveled the length of his body, his limbs flailed of their own accord, and he ended up almost kicking Kiara’s face in with his unswollen leg. “Sah-hee,” he mumbled as she jerked back, eyes ablaze with alarm. But she didn’t seem to take his involuntary attack on her personally, given her inquiry as to his well-being. “Uh… nevuh be-huh,” he fumbled, unsure how to answer the question. She’d asked it so politely, so well-meaningly. When Cha-Cha in all honesty felt like a rotted fish carcass that a feral cat had deposited on a doorstep. But he didn’t want her to feel like all her efforts had been for naught. “Juss so-hee suff-ho-ca-hing to deh. Buh yerr doo-hing grey!” He tried to smile at her but only succeeded in baring his teeth.
Someone behind Kiara said something, but the voice was faint. Drowned out by a persistent hissing that Cha-Cha initially thought was Vasu’s snake coming back to finish the job, but then realized was the sound of his own breathing, rasping and scraping in his lungs. With effort, he dragged his eyes away from the torch halfway down the hall that they’d been locked on. Little shifting afterimages were burned into his retinas, turning the hallway into a study of light and dark. The walls dripped down like hot candle wax to congeal with the floor, and Cha-Cha’s world turned to ash and vanished.
Last edited:
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Vasu Saini // “Shiva’s Heir” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
Cinderella knelt beside the pair of professors to administer medical aid. Vasu rolled his eyes. Of course. What a teacher’s pet, he thought disdainfully. If it were me or Theodore or Chitrita, she’d be glad to see a competitor bite it and wouldn’t lift a finger.
I would not lift a finger either, Master, by necessity, Archimedes chimed in drily. Really, you ought to choose more inclusive figurative language if you are going to use snakes to do your bidding.
Vasu tipped his head to the side and eyed Archimedes with a raised brow, appalled at the cobra’s insolence. Hush, you, he said, affectionately stroking the top of Archimedes’s head with a two-finger touch.
As the Durmstrang professor and Cinderella attempted to treat Cha-Cha with mixed success, Vasu and Theodore and Chitrita stood huddled together like vultures evicted from a warm carcass, exchanging uncertain glances. Well, more accurately, Vasu and Chitrita exchanged uncertain glances, while Theodore breathed loudly and shook with rage, a reaction which only contributed to the former two’s uncertainty. Vasu had been mildly disappointed to see the healing duo come to his adversary’s rescue, but he hadn’t felt this strongly on the topic.
Meanwhile, Cinderella’s eyes were scrunched shut, brow furrowed. She’d placed her hands on Cha-Cha’s injured leg and appeared to be willing the venom away, as if she were Dhanvantari, the physician of the gods in Hindu legend, who’d risen up out of the ocean carrying the supreme elixir in his hands, the amrita. As she worked, Cha-Cha’s head lolled back, his face half-hidden by an errant swath of hair. One minute, he was spouting some incoherent nonsense about how one of the lost boys should have been a red panda, and then he switched gears to analyzing the differences between flying on dragons versus pegasi in a discourse that may have sounded more studious if his voice wasn’t slurring every other word. Vasu was unsure if the venom was producing some nasty intoxicating effects within the Castelobruxo professor, or if he just naturally had a few loose screws, both of which seemed like very real possibilities. The scene might have been more amusing if the memory of this very same man overriding Vasu’s autonomy and making him hand over the cane wasn’t so raw. As it was, he tasted fear like metal in his mouth if he looked at Cha-Cha for too long.
Master, Archimedes said after a while. Perhaps if you are wary of discipline, it is best not to linger. Vasu couldn’t agree more with the cobra’s very logical advice. The urgency to heal Cha-Cha made an ideal distraction for escape. If Vasu took too long, the Durmstrang professor might remember that Vasu’s very illegal pet was the reason his colleague was in critical condition. Not to mention the whole thievery of Bellamy’s cane.
“We-elll,” Vasu drawled, breaking the tense silence in his and Theodore’s and Chitrita’s remote corner of the hallway, isolated from the main event. “This has been a lovely evening and all, but…” He feigned a wide yawn. “It’s so very late, and we’ve got classes tomorrow. I think I should get to bed.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and started down the hallway in the direction that didn’t involve going past the bearded, burly professor. “‘Night!” he called softly, and he walked as fast as he could with Archimedes short of running.
Cha-Cha’s voice, lifted in poetic recitation, followed him down the hall. “The angels, not half so happy in heaven, went envying her and me—aha, fucking stop that! It tickles—that the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.”
Finding the dorms in which the international students would be staying was accomplished by flagging down a House Elf, who was sweeping the hall. Vasu bit his lip guilty before approaching the elf, thinking that it would take a lot more than just a broom to clean up the hallways that he and Cinderella had devastated during his flight through the castle. To the House Elf’s credit, he did not so much as blink at the presence of a highly venomous snake curled around Vasu’s shoulders, his tired eyes passing over Archimedes with such disinterest that he might as well have been wallpaper. With a weary nod, he set down his broom and bid Vasu to follow him up several flights of stairs. The flames topping off the torches here were vivid purple, a color of magic and madness. They arrived in a hall lined with doors on either side, which displayed the residents’ names in different color markers on a whiteboard. He thanked the House Elf for his time and proceeded alone.
Halfway down the hall, Vasu arrived at one door that read: V. Saini in red, L. Valencia in green, and C. Winter in blue. Seeing not one but two additional names with claims on his quarters, Vasu made a face. And then, seeing that one of them was Cosmo Winter—well, presumably Cosmo and not Clara, as the dorms seemed to be segregated by gender—Vasu felt a pungent combination of indignation and revulsion and woeful unpreparedness, as if he’d suddenly been struck across the face with a dead fish. Had no one seen fit to mention that he’d have to share a dorm the size of a postage stamp with two other boys? If Cosmo counted as more boy than animal, that buffoon.
Well, I suppose there’s always the chance that he wakes up with a snake in his bed one morning and runs off screaming like a little bitch, never to be seen or heard from again, Vasu thought fondly. Realizing he didn’t have a key, Vasu hesitantly tested the knob. It was locked, but upon touching it, there was a small click! from the other side, and the door swung open toward him. Vasu wasn’t expecting this, and Archimedes shifted irritably as the door brushed against him. Well, it seemed as though the door was magically enchanted to recognize his touch and yielded to him. Vasu hoped this was the case, and not that the door would open for just anyone on the other side. Otherwise, what was the purpose of a lock?
The room was furnished scarcely, with one set of bunk beds on one side of the room and a loft bed on the other, which arched over a wooden desk with a somewhat dinged-up wooden chair. Along its perimeter were three maple closet wardrobes, with an attached chest of drawers at their base. There were two other desks for the occupants of the bunk beds, and a large frosted window which overlooked the Ilvermorny courtyard where it broke off into steep mountainous jags. Other than the Siamese cat with its tail twitching moodily atop one of the desks, there were no other signs of habitation. Vasu assumed he was the first of the three boys to arrive, meaning that he got first pick of the beds. He immediately went for the loft bed, so that he could justify getting half of the dorm to himself. Plus, a curtain could be draped down from the bed, giving him some privacy while he worked at the desk. His luggage had already been brought to the room, and he got to work dressing the mattress with bed sheets and filling the closet with clothes.
* * *
It hadn’t been until close to two in the morning that Vasu finished assembling his side of the room. At some point, a diminutive Latino boy meandered in. He jumped a little bit to find himself on the receiving end of Vasu’s stare, and then he jumped a lot at the sight of the king cobra who had made himself at home on top of the loft bed. He seemed so startled by this particular addition to the dorm that his attention altogether skipped over the lifelike but not entirely real cat, who was batting at a spider atop the desk. Since this boy was obviously not Cosmo, Vasu gathered him to be Valencia, and hopefully not some vagrant who had just decided to wander in for the hell of it. They exchanged a cursory greeting, a wooden introduction that revealed his first name was Lisandro, and they let the conversation drop after that. Vasu was too absorbed in alphabetizing his textbooks on his bookshelf, and the other boy seemed like he was still recovering from the shock of seeing Archimedes for the first time. Surprisingly, he did not comment on the snake’s appearance, and Vasu did not elaborate. As he passed by, Vasu caught a strong aroma of smoke wafting from the Valencia boy, and he narrowed his eyes. Oh, this guy had better take his cigarettes outside the dorm.
It was half past two when Vasu finished brushing his teeth and changing into loungewear and was settling down to sleep. The cut on his neck from the shrapnel was wide yet shallow, and after cleaning it, it fortunately demanded no real medical attention. Mercifully yet strangely, Cosmo still had yet to make an appearance at the dorm. Which had been a good thing, because Vasu was sure that he would have finished setting up his side of the dorm much, much later with Cosmo’s nonsense interruptions hampering his progress. Well, not my problem if he got lost trying to find the dorms. Maybe he’ll stay lost, Vasu thought hopefully. It had been a long day, and he was drained. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep immediately. It felt like only seconds had transpired when his alarm clock was wailing at seven-thirty. Vasu groaned, his vision bleary as he hunted for the off button. In the bunk beds across the room, Lisandro shifted, obviously disturbed by the noise, and snuggled down deeper into his blankets.
Fighting the real temptation to steal another half hour of sleep but knowing that he’d miss breakfast before his first class started, Vasu threw back the blankets, swung his feet over his bed, and had a heart-lurching moment where he forgot that he was on a loft bed and saved himself from plunging over the side at the last moment. His heart skipped a beat, and then two, and his fingers were jittering. Feeling painfully awake all too soon, Vasu climbed down the ladder from his bed, taking deep breaths.
Archimedes, having been unceremoniously kicked out of Vasu’s loft at bedtime, had slithered over to the bunk bed intended for Cosmo, which was still otherwise vacant. Vasu frowned, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? Cosmo had been a thorn in his side ever since they were kids who played together at the country club. Or more like, smashing each other’s Lego sculptures and stealing each other’s snacks when the target of the theft wasn’t looking.
As if waking up at seven-thirty wasn’t grim enough, Vasu threw open the door of his closet and his discouragement renewed itself at its sparse contents. His father had died almost a year ago, and it had been while he was alive that Vasu had done his last clothes shopping. They’d already been having financial problems while Yayati was alive, but they’d doubled down after his passing. As a result, there’d been no disposable income to spend on clothes, and most of Vasu’s outfits were scarcely presentable for public use, either being too short on him, ripped, stained, or wrinkled. He had four outfits that did not fall into any of these categories, which would not even last him one week of classes, and they were all horribly plain and colorless.
Selecting a nondescript mauve tunic shirt that was the color of expired jam and dark-wash jeans that pinched because they were just a little bit snug, Vasu paired them with some shiny loafers that were incongruently fancy. Zoya, curled up next to the bottommost shelf on his dresser, was rousted when he opened it and ran across the room. Fortunately, he’d have his robes to wear over his less-than-impressive clothes, which he was sure Chitrita would take note of if he ran into her today. Lingering on that thought, he reached for his enchanted coin, which he’d discarded carelessly on his desk because he’d been so tired when he’d finished unpacking last night.
Will I see her today? Vasu thought, balancing the coin on his thumb. Then he flicked it, and it caught the August sunlight as it flipped end over end in a glorious arc. He caught it on his outstretched palm. Turned it over on the back of his other hand. Heads. Despite himself, Vasu smiled slightly. He raked a comb through his curls, which succeeded in only ruffling them further, and purposefully jammed the jade-and-onyx engagement ring onto the third finger of his right hand. On his left hand were the wire ring that Ekta had made for him, the center of which spiraled in on itself and protruded like a rose, and the Saini signet ring, serpentine coils artfully crafted into a letter S. Vasu donned his robe and was securing his tie, red for Koldovstoretz’s Red Court, around his neck even as he headed out of the dorm, bustling for the dining hall.
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TobiornotTobi
Junior Member
Darweshi Nyache
Ilvermorny Infirmary
"Huh...wuh...uhh...food?"
Since the beginning of the Octowizard Tournament's opening ceremony, the Ilvermorny infirmary was in a state of constant unrest. The school's sick bay wasn't use to this kind of activity, with healers bouncing from patient to patient like water molecules in a cup of boiling water. First, there were those who were injured during the commotion caused by the living statues. The injuries sustained were simple enough, a sprained ankle from falling here, a bump on the head from falling debris there. Nothing a little bit of healing magic couldn't handle. Then came the second wave. One of the international students who had come to support their teammates in the Octowizard Tournament had been carried into the infirmary by another, unconscious. And the troubles didn't start there. After noticing a flare in the sky that appeared to originate on school grounds, Ilvermorny staff departed to investigate the strange occurrence. For their curiosity, they were rewarded with the mangled corpse of a towering Mahoutokoro student. He was quickly identified as Odinson Locjaw, the school's champion. That matter would require total discreetness as to not cause the abrupt cancellation of the heavily anticipated tournament. Thankfully, Ilvermorny's higher ups took over that situation, and not just because of the complications related to transporting a 16 foot corpse into the school undetected. The tradeoff was that some time later, a foreign professor who had suffered a venomous snake bite was in need of help. At the very least, some care had been provided at the scene of the incident, so stabilizing him was no trouble. And after a tumultuous night, the infirmary staff were afforded some peace. At least, until the next day, when Darweshi Nyache was hauled in on a stretcher at around seven o'clock in the morning.
For all intents and purposes, the Uagadou Potions professor was dead on arrival. He had been found in the second to last train car that delivered the Octowizard Tournament's participants to their first destination. While the train was being sanitized, his body had been discovered slumped in his seat and reported. All attempts to rouse the unmoving professor were met with failure. After every option was exhausted, Darweshi was delivered to the infirmary to determine what the next steps were. At the very least, his expiration wasn't on school grounds. As for why his extended absence wasn't noted at the opening ceremony, Darweshi had told his students Malaika and Aurelia about an upset stomach before the train set off from New York City. Those who wondered where he was reasoned that he was holed up in one of the school's many lavatories, urgently wishing there was a spell to get more fiber in his diet. But the truth was revealed in the early hours of the morning, when he was brought to an infirmary full of staff still mentally drained from the events of last night. The white kanzu he wore already looked like the garbs of a man about to be buried. There were so many questions surrounding his demise, no one knew where to start. How did he die? Who was his next of kin? Would it be possible to cover up not one, but two deaths surrounding the tournament? Could another professor be scrambled up in time? As everyone surrounded his bed, trying to come to any kind of conclusion, Darweshi's brown eyes fluttered open, looking up at the ceiling's bright lights. He sharply inhaled, then let out a great yawn. Everyone stopped talking and looked down at the source of the sudden noise, speechless. Darweshi's eyes darted around the many faces standing over him, himself also quiet for the moment.
"Ah...what a fitful nap I had!" He said nonchalantly. He rose up onto his elbows and looked around the room. Taking note of the room's resting residents, a puzzled expression grew on Darweshi's face. "Wait, where am I right now? This looks nothing like the train I was sleeping in!"
One of the few healers who wasn't flabbergasted into oblivion managed to explain the circumstances that led to the Potions professor's change of scenery, Darweshi groaning as the story concluded. He shook his head, disappointed.
"I...I don't know what to say. So you're telling me that I missed the opening ceremony's banquet?" He asked, pain in his voice. Reaching inside his robe, Darweshi withdrew his prayer beads and clutched them tightly. The opening banquet was the event he was looking forward to the most! Watching his students bring pride to Uagadou would be nice as well, but a plate of the legendary 'baby back ribs' would be even better. "Say it is not so..."
The professor's only concern being to fill his stomach was able to release everyone from their stupefaction. It was his turn to be peppered with questions now, although some of the previous ones were still brought up. What had happened? Why did he wake up now of all times? Remaining as calm as he was when he first awoke, Darweshi reached once more into his robes and presented a small glass vial to his observers.
"My upset stomach was keeping me from catching some much needed sleep before the ceremony, so drastic measures were taken. This here, is a Draught of Living Death potion. I took a very small dose, but I didn't think I would be asleep long enough to miss the whole night!"
What Darweshi had done was the wizarding world equivalent of 'popping a Percocet'. His answer failed to put anyone at ease. In fact, even more questions entered the fray. How could he be so irresponsible? Why would he do something so extreme? Why didn't he just brew a regular Sleeping Draught potion? The answer to the last question was obvious: he didn't have any moondew at hand to craft one! So instead, he went for the more advanced potion, albeit a tiny amount of it. But instead of joining the chorus of voices, Darweshi sat amidst the uproar he had caused, taking time to think. What does it matter at this point, I'm awake and alive now! And not to mention hungry!
Sliding his legs to the edge of the bed and standing up, Darweshi stretched his arms before raising his prayer beads up to the sky. "My friends, this has been a riveting experience! But I must now take my leave, as I must give praise to Engai for delivering me through this trial!"
And with that, Darweshi strode away from the once again speechless crowd, grabbing his suitcase on the way out. He looked at his former roommates one more time, silently apologizing if the commotion he caused had woken them up. Outside the infirmary, the days was just beginning in Ilvermorny. Students and professors hustled to and fro, nearby windows revealing a bright sun rising outside. Darweshi took a deep breath and smiled. Although it was primarily an excuse for him to get out of the infirmary and go about his day, Darweshi closed his eyes, bowed his head and began to pray. Engai, thank you for journey mercies. Thank you for safely bring my students and I to this new land, and also for the chance to be here in the first place. There were many who were nominated for this role, but I ended up being chosen. Let this day go well for us, as with all others.
Punctuating his prayer by raising his hands to the sky once more and nodding, Darweshi allowed himself to be enamored by the most tantalizing smell. Granted, when you've been asleep for as long as he had, any whiff of food was heavenly. There were hints of everything in what he smelled. Eggs, bacon, ham, the works. His prayer had brought his beloved students to mind, who might be wondering where he was all night. However, he reasoned that they were a sharp pair, and more likely than not, he would find them wherever the food was, as breakfast is the most important meal of the day! Darweshi sniffed the air a few more times before following the oncoming flow of foot traffic, hoping it would lead him to the source of the delectable aroma.
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Wolfiee
Meow
Angelique Chimere
Professor
coded by natasha.
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honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
code by valen t.
honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
code by valen t.
Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “Dysfunctional Ex-Con” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
Finding consciousness was like hauling himself up from the bottom of a thick-slimed swamp. Sleep weighed heavily on Cha-Cha’s limbs, dragging him back down every time he tried to surface. He remembered parts of last night and this morning in glimpses and snatches. A girl crying hysterically. A small commotion as a stretcher containing a large, dark-skinned man was wheeled in. A nurse prompting him to turn over so that she could change his IV. But none of these memories were half as vivid as the wonderland of dreams he’d experienced, draped in a heavy film of unreality that was no doubt enhanced by the cobra venom. An earthquake swallowed cities whole when a boar scratched its back against a giant palm tree. Cutting open a pumpkin to reveal a priceless cache of jewelry in one and a nest of snakes in another. Kings who sat on thrones of bone, rode their barges over rivers of blood, and feasted on the flesh of their own people.
Finally, when the smell of antiseptic became too pungent to ignore, the glare of the fluorescent lights too bright, Cha-Cha reluctantly accepted that sleep was not returning to him and cracked an eye open. And bolted upright at the sight of the teenage girl standing over him. She was tall, with terracotta skin, long hair tied back from her face with a ribbon, and sweet pea-pink lips set in a moue of distaste, as if he’d kept her waiting. Other than the questionable length—or lack thereof—of her plaid miniskirt, she was dressed in a typical school uniform, topped off with an open robe the color of champagne.
While Cha-Cha’s heart was still hammering at the unexpected jump scare, Chitrita Pawar drew her lips back into a beam that was just a little too tight to be genuine. A clinical stare bounced between him and the scrubs-clad nurse who sailed over, beckoned by his return to the waking world. Seeing him struggling to maintain a seated position, she fluffed his pillows and arranged them behind his back at a more supportive angle. The nurse thrust a plastic cup of clear liquid into his hands. Chitrita greeted him with more enthusiasm than the situation—or early-morning hour, for that matter—warranted, practically bubbling over with effusive warmth, as if he were a good friend she hadn’t seen in a while.
Frustration at this unexpected ambush snapped inside of Cha-Cha like a muscle pulled taut. He scoffed and asked sourly, “Do you frequently watch grown men while they sleep?” Other than her damnable timing, Chitrita hadn’t done anything to personally offend him, and he probably wouldn’t have snapped at her so. But arousal was a common neurological effect of snake venom, and Cha-Cha had, embarrassingly, awoken to a desire so overpowering that it took his breath away. His last dream had been much in the same vein, too. Fortunately, he’d been sleeping on his side, so it might not have been obvious. Still, as he sat up in bed, glaring at Chitrita, he strategically crossed one leg over the other, resigned to ignore the problem.
Ignoring his snide remark, Chitrita smiled wider, if possible, and thanked him profusely for saving her. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. And then, as she spun a yarn about how he’d come running to her screams, a memory tickled the back of his mind. Last night, he’d briefly woken up to a girl crying, the shadows of two tall men standing at his bedside mercifully shielding his eyes from the too-bright lights. The connection almost evaded him, as Chitrita’s voice pitched in hysterics was almost unrecognizable to this obsequious girl smiling and singing his praises. Her eyes cut again to the nurse who lingered at Cha-Cha’s bedside, and when they returned to him, there was an entreaty within them. Play along, she seemed to say.
Cha-Cha was momentarily perplexed, but not for long. According to Chitrita’s version of events, in which a snake just appeared out of nowhere, Vasu Saini, her fiancé, escaped culpability for summoning it in a duel. Cha-Cha was sure that the social backlash of being engaged to an almost-murderer would have been inconvenient for poor Chitrita, to say the least. But more importantly, Chitrita’s story provided him with an alibi for roaming the halls of Ilvermorny late into the night. And if he’d been busy saving her, well then, he couldn’t have been the one to burn down Marcello Bellini’s rooms, which would have happened around the same time. Honestly, Cha-Cha was slightly surprised not to have woken up inside of a jail cell this morning as a suspect. Yes, playing along with Chitrita’s game was the best option to save his own skin and Lisandro’s.
Aware that the nurse was watching their exchange, Cha-Cha bobbed his head in assent when Chitrita concluded. “Of course. As a professor, I would never stand idly by as a student’s safety is in jeopardy, even if that student is not my own.” He drew himself up a little straighter in bed, ever the courageous hero who’d risked life and limb. “In West Java, these pests are a dime a dozen. The best strategy of dealing with them is to stare them squarely in the eye. Just stand your ground and assert your dominance, because they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.” Cha-Cha lifted his chin, injecting a distinctly masculine pride into the gesture, a demeanor that Einar used to refer to as “showboating” when he’d been Cha-Cha’s mentor. Inwardly, however, Cha-Cha was struggling not to burst out laughing. The methodology he’d described was absolutely the worst way to confront a highly venomous snake. No wonder his dumb ass had been bitten if that was what he’d done.
With a not-very-discreet roll of her eyes and shake of her head, the nurse seemed to take Cha-Cha’s dashing heroics as proof of his lucidity, and strode away to tend to the big, dark man who’d just awoken across the room. As soon as her back was to him, Cha-Cha allowed the scoundrel’s smile he’d been repressing to split his face. He met Chitrita’s gaze. “At least I don’t have to worry about being a bad influence on you. Because, sweetheart, Satan knows you’re already there. Points for quick thinking, by the way.” He held the cup that the nurse had stuffed into his hands under his nose and gave it an experimental sniff. Repulsed by its lack of an alcoholic odor, he set it on the nightstand. His hands were shaking slightly, and half of its contents sloshed out. Cha-Cha looked down at himself. He was dressed in a white hospital gown. Discarding the vaguely unsettling thought that someone had to have changed him, he cast a glance around and saw his clothes from the Opening Ceremony, wrinkled and torn, piled on a chair on the other side of the nightstand. “Pass me my jacket, please?” he asked Chitrita.
She obliged, handing the scrap of crimson fabric to him. It was so rumpled that Cha-Cha had to play with it for a minute to discern which way was right-side up. Then he located the correct pocket and withdrew two small plastic vials, containing one shot of ninety-four proof Kraken dark rum apiece. “Would you like a drink?” he asked Chitrita. When she declined, he shrugged as if to say “suit yourself” and momentarily wrestled with one of the containers. The strength seemed to have fled his fingers, and he couldn’t close them in a meaningful grip, a leftover effect of the neurotoxins from the venom. Instead of suffering the humiliation of asking the seventeen-year-old girl to open his liquor for him, he used his teeth to get the job done and quaffed the two shots in quick succession. He felt unspeakably fortunate that he didn't have to teach today, because he had no intention of spending the day sober. Not that Chitrita needed to be told that, of course.
“My, my,” he mused, the drinks putting him in a contemplative mood. “If memory serves, did you really cry on cue last night? Just like that?” He tried to snap for effect and was largely unsuccessful. “Do you know how hard that is? That shit took me years to master, and still, it generally doesn’t have the same effect when a guy does it. But you just… goddamn, girl. What happened to you as a kid? Who hurt you?” He stared at Chitrita in fascination, head tilted to one side. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I am so glad I’m not your professor. She must have her hands full with you.”
Brushing off his questions, Chitrita sat, all straight-backed queenly posture that managed to make the fold-up chair look like a throne. She clasped her hands around her knee and cleared her throat and got down to business. Cha-Cha subdued his mirth enough to listen attentively. The girl who brought him to the infirmary…? Chitrita must have been referring to Kiara, the girl who rode dragons for fun and daydreamed about kissing Cosmo Winter. Cha-Cha frowned. Contrary to Chitrita’s narrative, he didn’t remember Kiara being present in the infirmary when he’d awoken to Chitrita’s plaintive wails. But as she’d insinuated, Cha-Cha had been pretty out of it at the time. Of course, Vasu hadn’t been there either. And why would he be? Little bugger would be immediately ousted from the tournament and perhaps expelled from school if he, in a fit of good conscience, confessed to his snake biting Cha-Cha. And Vasu did not have a good conscience.
Chitrita’s gaze sharpened as she neared the end of her tale, clearly getting to the point. Damn, but she was an intense one. She didn’t smile at all unless it was a weapon to get what she wanted. As she leaned in, scrutinizing Cha-Cha, she seemed to be summoning all of her high-society feminine menace, and he wondered if this was an attempt to threaten him. How cute. The thought amused him, and he smiled. Which clearly was not the socially appropriate response, for Chitrita’s expression darkened further.
Her suspenseful buildup boiled down to a question. In the silence that followed, there was something sharp and metallic in the air, like unspilled blood. Cha-Cha knew he was in dangerous waters. Did she not know who he was? Well, he was sure that, sooner or later, she would find out. Especially if she hung around that Hogwarts boy, who stared at Cha-Cha too coldly not to know of his past crimes, of the pureblood politicians he’d brought to justice. He knew from being inside of Vasu’s head that the boy had yet to put two and two together. Vasu, with his insufferable adolescent drama about his grandmother pushing him too hard and always expecting disappointment, and boo-hoo, he no longer had Daddy’s money to rack up a tab at the bar every other night. At least someone expected something of Vasu.
Feeling like Chitrita and he were two card players, shoving cards at each other while trying to keep their full hands hidden, he decided not to tell her any more about his identity, his abilities, and his activities last night than she needed to know. He chose his words very carefully. “While I have no way of knowing his motivations for sure, I, in turn, had influenced Vasu prior to your arrival. I suspect he didn’t like that,” Cha-Cha said enigmatically. “But really, Chitrita, if you want to know why Vasu did something, why solicit me for answers? I suggest you have a talk with your fiancé. It’s not like I read minds or anything,” he lied innocently. “Now, shouldn’t you be getting to class?”
But Chitrita showed no intention of going to class, and no sign of reading that she’d been dismissed. She opened her mouth to argue, and Cha-Cha suppressed a growl of frustration. He toyed with the idea of hypnotizing her and suggesting, in no uncertain terms, that she leave him to rest. He’d already, purposely or not, delved into multiple students’ minds last night and tinkered around in some instances, so what was one more? He reached toward her mind. But it was like grasping at smoke. Cha-Cha pushed harder and came up empty-handed and breathless. Chitrita broke off whatever she’d been saying at the slack-jawed shock plastered on his face, no doubt made all the more transparent by the rum. “I, um, just realized that I lost my wallet,” he fumbled, fingering an empty pocket in his suit jacket as if that was where he typically kept his wallet. “Not to worry. I’m sure someone found it this morning and turned it in,” he said quickly.
Cha-Cha’s mind felt like it’d been dialed to a spin cycle. Refusing to believe that he’d been divested of his powers, he selected another target, the nurse who’d attended him. He felt around for something small. Just surface-level thoughts or feelings. Nothing deep or dark or dirty. But there was nothing, as if he were straining to hear too-distant music. He swallowed down the panic that clawed up his throat. It was probably just a side effect of the snake venom that would pass in due time. Like the shaking of his hands. Or— His eyes cut to Chitrita. She’d been watching him sleep, hadn’t she? How long had she been there? Had she injected him with some potion? Performed some spell to neutralize his Legilimency? He knew there was more to her story, something she wasn’t telling him. Some hidden agenda she had, because she didn’t know him, and he refused to believe that she’d come visit him in the hospital wing to selflessly check on his welfare. Perhaps someone had sent her. Perhaps she was feeling him out for answers on behalf of a professor, be it her own, or Bellini, or Bellamy, victim of the stolen cane. Cha-Cha liked to believe that Einar had enough respect for him to come talk to him face to face and not throw pretty young things at him to pry out answers, but maybe not.
It was best not to comment on his disabled powers, because if that really was her doing, then he would confirm that she had been successful. And broadcasting this weakness would only signal for his enemies to make their move without fear of provoking an attack. Better to keep Chitrita guessing about his Legilimency. Thinking fast, Cha-Cha changed the subject. “Anyway, sweetheart, to answer your question, I forgive Vasu. Let’s let bygones be bygones, okay? It’s in the past.” Never mind that the past had only been eight hours ago, and Cha-Cha was presently in a hospital bed as a direct result of the past. Of course, in the days when he’d been heading up the Crow Court, he’d had men killed for lesser offenses than the one that Vasu had committed, but Vasu was just a child. A child whose best interests currently aligned with Cha-Cha’s, because he wanted to close the book on this investigation before too much dirt was dug up.
He studied Chitrita. Her tense shoulders and her bouncing knee and her hard stare. Her body language betrayed her, and Cha-Cha had been a therapist long enough to know when someone was holding something back. Hiding something. And Cha-Cha needed to find out what so he’d best know how to cover his tracks, and maybe even find out why his powers were gone. Well then, if he couldn’t use Legilimency, he’d just have to ask her point blank, and hope to catch her off guard with the question. “Why are you really here, Chitrita?” he asked without preamble. “Did someone send you to speak with me? And if you lie, I will know.”
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Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Gavriel Sylvie
Ilvermorny - Female - Half-Blood - Champion
Sleep was a far from faithful lover. At least that is how Gavy had come to think of her relationship with slumber over the years. There would be nights when she would have barely just laid her head to rest on the pillow and she would be out like a light but most evenings she would lay as awake as the stars sparkling in the night sky. There were likely multiple deep-rooted reasons for her never-ending struggles with the realm of sleep but if anyone noticed or asked she would simply tell them that she couldn’t get her mind to rest. This was partially true. After so long spent in isolation there was a part of Gavy that was always alive and active in the quietest moments, part of her mind that needed to send off constant flares in order to ward off the insanity that once crept around her like hungry hyenas in that deep dark basement. Another part she figured might be some odd sense of FOMO, that some hidden voice in the back of her mind viewed sleep as a prison that would keep her from the world. She didn’t know the depths or complexities of all that went into her constant battle with slumber but tonight, like many nights before, she struggled to get more than a few hours of rest.
Before her roommates had arisen for the new day Gavy was already sneaking out of the dorm as quiet as a church mouse. Her shoes held in one hand and her side pack gripped in the other she tiptoed around until she was well away from the sleeping chambers and on her way towards breakfast. Somewhere along the way she found one of her usual posts by a window and began to slip her shoes on as she let her bag rest against the wall. Her long platinum hair tumbled over her shoulders as she worked to fasten her shoes comfortably in place. A flicker of movement below caught her eye as she worked and she glanced out the window to spot a figure far below standing at the end of the carriage path as two carriages pulled away. It didn’t take eagle vision to know even from this far that the figure waving off the carriages was Professor Einar. His broad shoulders and silver hair were clear even from so far away, as was the cane-assisted stride he took up once the carriages were out of sight.
Gavy’s brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to figure out why exactly two carriages would be departing so early in the morning and why Professor Einar would be supervising their exit. A flurry of colors seemed to flash across the young woman’s features for a moment as several possibilities darted through her mind in no particular order before finally her hair was restored to its natural platinum shade and her eyes returned to their vibrant minty hue. She knew it would do her no good to jump to conclusions or panic but that didn’t stop her from hoping that the Durmstrang professor had just been on a social call rather than anything official. She had only known Cosmo for a short time but already she had felt a fast friendship forming between the two of them, Raph too. She had been looking forward to experiencing the games with them, even as competitors, and hoped that their time as members of the tournament hadn’t been cut short. Crossing her fingers for them she hoped to find them scarfing down plates of food in the dining hall in just a few minutes time.
Picking up her bag and leaving her perch by the window Gavy swung the strap over her shoulder and continued towards the dining hall. By the time she arrived a few other early risers were enjoying their meals but she did not spot either of the young men she had spent the evening with, nor did she spot Cosmo’s sister Clara. “Huh…” She muttered to herself before taking a seat with some of her Ilvermorny peers and dishing herself some breakfast. She consumed the grits, eggs, bacon, and cinnamon buns swiftly before downing a glass of orange juice and taking up her bag again. It was near time that she made her way towards History of Magic where she hoped she might gain some understanding of what Einar had been up to by the carriage path earlier. Striding down the halls she knew like the back of her hand it didn’t take long for her to find herself striding into History of Magic only to find that the professor was already involved in a discussion with another student. “Damn.” She muttered and leaned against the nearest empty desk.
Mentions: OPEN FOR INTERACTION
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
honeycoves
back from being concussed (:
code by valen t.
TobiornotTobi
Junior Member
Sigurd Berg
Durmstrang Institute
"It's time."
The sun had completed its descent into the horizon by the time Sigurd and Ella Berg arrived at the doorstep of their modest home. The family of three resided at the end of a cul-de-sac, the adjacent houses vacated long ago. A dark violet night sky loomed over the mother and son duo. The time of day was in synch with the emotional atmosphere, both dark and foreboding. Neither Sigurd nor Ella could predict how Ragnar would react to the news they had. The dilemma was the only thing the seventeen year old Durmstrang student could focus on. Sigurd had been passed over as a candidate to partake in the prestigious Octowizard Tournament. Wizarding schools from around the world sent their best students to compete for fame and glory, and there was much to gain from emerging victorious. Especially if you came from a family with a reputation like Sigurd's. The Bergs were in dire need of good news associated with their name, Ragnar's horrendous acts still fresh in the wizarding world's minds almost two decades later. No clan member was spared scrutiny, from young Bergs become ostracized by fearful teachers, to the older ones being subject to frequent mental evaluations on the job. The shame they produced didn't stop at their doorsteps. Their reliance on the Dark Arts also served as ammunition against Durmstrang for their liberal teaching of the subject. It seemed that in everyone's eyes, Bergs were nothing more than wild animals, useful for their aggression but requiring a tight leash. Sigurd's nomination and eventual victory in the tournament would have shown that the Bergs were a name that could be held with respect once more. And more importantly, his victory would serve as Ragnar's redemption in the eyes of his kinsmen. But with Sigurd's failure to distinguish himself from his colleagues, that dream had been dashed. Now, his family would continue to endure marginalization and harsh words behind hushed tones. And Ragnar Berg would remain the unforgivable blemish on his generation's reputation. He would be grief-stricken for certain, but the mystery was where his anger would be directed towards. Would it be at Durmstrang's Headmaster for refusing to give his son a fair shake? Or would the object of his scorn once more be his offspring?
As Ella reached into her pocket for the keys, Sigurd began to breathe heavily. Failure was not an option, father's countless lessons made that very clear to him. As his mind was filled with worry, a hand gently planted itself on his shoulder.
"All will be well," Ella said in an attempt to reassure him. It only made him feel worse, however. How was his mother, ever the master of masking her emotions, handling the news? Ella was no stranger to the Berg's criticism, either. In the first few months, she was urged time and time again to divorce Ragnar. But she stood by his side, earning her the disdain of her own friends and family. In not being selected, Sigurd had squandered her chance at normalcy as well. All he could do was look down in shame and enter the house when she opened the door. As soon as the stepped inside, they were greeted with the brooding form of Ragnar Berg.
The head of the household was sitting on the couch, deep in thought. It had been a couple of months since he had last seen his father, but he had gone through quite a metamorphosis since then. He had lost quite some weight, the black shirt that used to fit his form now gave the impression that it had grown bigger instead of its wearer smaller. His eyes were dark and sunken, the skin under them in the process of turning black. Tangled, oil colored hair extended past his shoulders and dangled in front of his face like lines of licorice. Sigurd was a far cry from his father's disheveled image, sporting a buzz cut and a clean shaven face on orders of his father himself. However, Sigurd was the one who had to go outside and interact with people. Ragnar was a recluse who only stepped outside for solitary walks through the forests and around the mountains that stood close by.
When he eventually acknowledged his family's return, his reaction wasn't indicative of a man who hadn't seen his wife and son in many moons. He was all business, expecting a report from his subordinates. Furrowed eyebrows softened momentarily as he rose from his position. "Ella, Sigurd. You've returned."
Sigurd stole a furtive glance at his mother, who couldn't hide her concern for her husband. She took a step forward, reaching for his face. "Ragnar, have you been eating? You look so thin..."
Ragnar stepped back to avoid her touch, his facial features hardening again. "I'm fine. What news do you have, my son?"
Like a dog confront by its owner for urinating on the floor, Sigurd could only look at his father. The longer the silence in the room, the wider Ragnar's eyes expanded. He turned to his wife, hoping for anything to discredit the results Sigurd's silence relayed. But she looked away, a frown and a tense look on her face. It was at this point that Ragnar exploded. With strength unbefitting his wiry frame, he grabbed the coffee table and flipped it, breaking a white vase in the process. His eyes flicked between his wife and son. Ella was shocked by his reaction, while Sigurd held a calm composure. He was no stranger to his father's violent outbursts. His mother was spared the worst of it, as she spent more time on the Durmstrang campus than at home. "Damn it! Damn it all!"
Although unfazed on the outside, Sigurd was distressed within. He could take the fury, but there was more than fury in his father's eyes. There was also hurt, along with disappointment. Sigurd, the guardian of his victory, had failed him. For the first time, the fire that burned in Ragnar's eyes seemed like it had been stoked. Grabbing his black jacket off the couch, he stormed past him family and through the door, a resounding slam signaling his departure from the house. Sigurd and Ella stood together in the once again quiet house. Ella turned to her son and put a hand on his cheek. "Sigurd, this doesn't mean or change anything. I...we love you and are very proud of the man you're becoming."
Once again, Sigurd heard the words that were coming out of her mouth, but they didn't mean anything. What man? He was destined to restore honor to the Berg name and to his father's name. And he could accomplish neither task. What was he now? Nothing. But as to not create yet another conflict, Sigurd nodded limply and gathered his luggage in his hands once more, walking in the direction of the stairs.
...
The message came for Sigurd early in the afternoon. He was in the middle of Herbology class when Professor Bjork's lecture was interrupted by a rapid knocking at the door. A moment later, the Headmaster's secretary opened the door, his chest rising and falling as if he had run a marathon. He was clearly out of breath. A sea of half asleep students suddenly stirred all at once and directed their collective attention towards him. The secretary scanned the room until he made eye contact with Sigurd and pointed at him.
"Sigurd, please gather your things and come with me!" He finally said after taking a few seconds to catch his breath. "The Headmaster requires your presence immediately!" It didn't take long for whispers holding theories regarding Sigurd's removal to spread across the room like wildfire. Young people were a gossiping bunch, and it didn't help that Sigurd's last name was Berg. As he gathered his books, Sigurd was able to hear some comments from his fellow students.
"Sigurd's getting expelled!"
"Daniel didn't show up for class this morning! You don't think..."
"It's always the quiet ones."
"Another Berg just earned his devil horns!"
As soon as he finished putting his things together, he grabbed his fur coat and made for the door and followed the secretary to what he hoped wasn't the Headmaster's office, proving everyone's snide comments true. Sigurd couldn't recall doing anything wrong, but problems had a habit of gravitating towards him. "If you don't mind me asking, where are we going?" He inquired.
The secretary took some time to respond to Sigurd's question. "I think it's best to wait until the Headmaster explains the situation," He answered finally, scratching the back of his head. Eventually, their journey lead them to the front entrance of the school, where the school Headmaster stood, an envelope in one hand and the other closed in a fist. The afternoon sun and crisp, cool weather greeted the duo as they approached him. As Sigurd put on his coat to counter the cold weather, he studied the Headmaster's expression for any clues. The older man had a look of exhaustion on his face, as if some event had drained the life energy from his core.
"Thank you, Lucas. That will be all," He directed to his secretary, who gave a quick nod before running back inside. Now all alone, the academic director eyed his student up and down before continuing to speak. "Sigurd Berg. Forgive me for skipping the pleasantries, but time is of the essence. As you know, the Octowizard Tournament's opening ceremony was last night. Unfortunately, our school's representatives decided that the first night away from home was the one to get into trouble. Our newly-minted champion Clara Winter got herself into a mess that resulted in her removal from the competition. And in a show of support, Cosmo Winter decided to bow out as well. Which leaves Piper Katzenbach as our sole student."
Sigurd's poker face remained strong in the face of the Headmaster's revelation. Piper Katzenbach was a familiar name. Deputy Minister Katzenbach was the one who oversaw the hearings after father's crimes were exposed to the public. As for Piper, they attended Charms class together, where the taller boy was commended as a prodigy when it came to spell-weaving. Sigurd primarily took notice because it was a subject he struggled with in comparison. Part of him wanted to ask why Piper wasn't selected as the new champion by default. Ultimately, Sigurd nodded his head, showing that he was comprehending what was being said. The Headmaster continued to speak. "I won't mince words, you were far from our next pick because of your family's sordid reputation. The selection committee and I balked at the idea of the son of a sadist representing us. However, Professor Einar swayed us in the end. Students who partake in these tournaments do so for themselves and the satisfaction of honoring their school. You have no such ambitions. Restoring your family's tarnished name is your drive to win. We need someone desperate, someone hungry enough for victory to represent us. Secondly, working with one of our school's top students and professors could do you some good. I see traits you lack that Piper and Professor Einar have. And perhaps Piper could learn something from you."
This time, Sigurd's poker face bent, but didn't break. His eyebrows raised in surprise. Professor Einar recommended him to take over as the school's champion? He couldn't recall any meaningful interactions with his History of Magic professor that could have lead to this windfall. Sigurd performed well in the class, but that couldn't have been enough. In any case, a need had arose, and Sigurd emerged the best option this time. And although he was a walk-on member to a team that once had strong synergy, he didn't feel daunted at all. He recalled his father's violent and subsequently heartbroken reaction to the news that Sigurd was not selected, that he would be unable to redeem himself in his lifetime. The Headmaster was correct. This was for Father.
Sigurd nodded again, his poker face returning. "What are the next steps to proceed?"
Releasing the thinnest of smiles, the Headmaster gestured to behind Sigurd. The student turned around and saw Lucas carrying what he instantly recognized as his black suitcase. In another arm was a small animal cage. It appeared that his decision had been anticipated. The two objects were gently placed next to Sigurd.
The Headmaster raised a finger to Sigurd. "Before you fret, it was your mother who packed your things for you. She also wanted me to give you this." The envelope he was holding was now offered to Sigurd, who took it and neatly placed it in a pocket inside his fur coat. "As for the means to reach Ilvermorny, you will be travelling by portkey. If you have no further questions for me, I believe it's time for you to take your belongings and get going. Your first class is with your patron, Professor Einar himself."
The Headmaster's fist finally opened up, revealing a fishhook. Sigurd had heard of portkeys before, but never had the chance to experience one. Looks like the day had finally come. With a lack of anything meaningful to ask, Sigurd slowly reached out and took the fishhook. The last Sigurd saw of him home was his Headmaster pulling out his wand and enchanting the ordinary object in his hand. "Portus!"
Sigurd felt himself yanked away by some supernatural force with just as supernatural strength. It felt like he had tied himself to a horse moving at 75 MPH, the way the portkey yanked him from his home. One moment, he was in front of his school, the next he was in front of a completely different one. Contrary to Durmstrang, the time of day was earlier in the morning, with students out and about on the way to their first classes. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice his abrupt entry. Merging with the students flowing into the school, Sigurd began his first mission: finding his dorm room. Although the adults he asked were skeptical of Sigurd's claim to be Durmstang's new champion, the crimson uniform he had on under his fur coat was enough to get the answers he needed. Following the directions he was given, Sigurd reached his room and got inside, impressed by the magic that recognized the room's residents. Wasting no time in his next moves, he plopped his suitcase on the bed without a second look and placed his cage on the table closest to his bed. With his precious cargo dropped off, Sigurd grabbed his book bag and briskly exited the room. Hopefully, he could get to class early enough to thanks Professor Einar for his show of faith. Next stop: History of Magic.
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Aviator
the ghost of pimping past
Vasu Saini // “the Snake Charmer” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
Not one to derive much joy from a sugar rush, he’d passed up the omelet bar and backed-up line for french toast with disinterest, making his way to a window in the cafeteria where pizza was waiting on circular metal trays. He snagged two slices of white pizza with diced cherry tomatoes, copious garlic and oregano, and no sauce, which was fine by him because he despised tomato sauce. Two silver pots of soup were next to the pizza bar, and he ladeled himself a cup of something with a bewitching aroma called sweet potato black bean chili. He settled down in a mostly deserted corner of the cafeteria and tucked in. The mass-produced American fare was no gobi paratha or chole bhature, but Vasu was surprised to find that, other than being obnoxiously hot even ten minutes later, the soup especially hit the spot.
He was halfway to relaxing, halfway to allowing himself to forget that he’d destroyed most of the castle’s first floor and poisoned a foreign professor last night, when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He recoiled as if he’d reached into the dark and felt a spider skitter across his palm. His hand snapped out, righting his glass of red Powerade a moment before it teetered over. Fearing that he would find the disapproving leer of an Ilvermorny disciplinarian standing over him, it took a conscious effort to glance over his shoulder and force his features into a mask that conveyed nothing was amiss. Relief washed over him like cold, sweet rain when he recognized his fellow Koldovstoretz representative. Halime Sari, with her upturned nose, wide mouth, and caramel complexion. She was babbling something at him with her mouth half-full of pastry, and he took the opportunity to do a quick sweep of her outfit. She should wear skirts more often, he thought, eyeing the black scrap of fabric that revealed her shapely legs. Her hair was a mess, though, sticking out in a multitude of directions as if Mey had either quite literally rolled out of bed, fallen from a low window, or been electrocuted at a low voltage.
His appraisal of her was interrupted when she grabbed his wrist. Of course, it was the hand that was holding the Powerade, and Vasu gasped as it sloshed dangerously, nearly disgorging its contents onto his already pitiful attire. “Dammit, Mey,” he snarled, and then immediately felt bad for not reigning in his contempt. Mey was a Muggle-born, and even without that target on her back, she was an eccentric one. Vasu was well aware that she didn’t have many friends at Koldovstoretz. Unlike most of their peers, he hadn’t been openly mean to her during their previous years at school, because he hadn’t seen anything to gain from picking on her. She was from an insignificant family and could be passed over easily. So he’d largely ignored her presence, which she seemed to have interpreted as some kind of perverse kindness. The only real downside to it was that occasionally she cornered him just after DADA, a class that they shared, when he was alone and she talked at him for ten straight minutes about this or that. That was the thing with Mey. There were no real conversations; there was just enduring a stream of consciousness until he politely excused himself to go to his locker or next class. Sometimes there actually was a next class, in which cases it wasn’t really an excuse.
But it was okay, because Mey seemed oblivious to his cold reception. She tugged insistently on his arm as she prattled on, and Vasu checked his watch. Twelve minutes to nine; he hadn’t been planning to leave for almost another ten minutes. He opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it just before the words left him. He wasn’t supposed to know the layout of the first floor of Ilvermorny Castle. Like the other tournament students, he should have obediently filed up to the dorms after the conclusion of the Opening Ceremony. Mey would need some time to figure out how to navigate from the cafeteria to the main doors that would take them to Care of Magical Creatures, and to avoid suspicion, he’d have to follow suit. Grumbling internally to himself, Vasu submitted to her prodding and put his half-eaten breakfast on the dish pit, taking one of the slices of pizza with him to finish off as they walked.
“Don’t fall for it, Mey,” Vasu garbled between bites as Mey told him of her encounter with the Ilvermorny student. “She’s an American, for fuck’s sake. They get their kicks off of manipulating foreigners to kiss their arses and acting like they’re doing us a favor. Besides.” Vasu popped the last bite into his mouth and reached into his messenger bag for his hand sanitizer. What with Mey’s unrelenting course through the hallways, it seemed as close as he was getting to washing his hands. “This Ramona is in the tournament, right? She’s the enemy, Mey. Of course she wants you to trust her.” Vasu was well aware that the Koldovstoretz team was the youngest in the tournament by quite a margin. With perhaps the sole exception of Zuri, one of the Uagadou secondaries, he was fairly certain that he, Mey, and Sasha were the only fifth-years to participate. Mey was a Muggle-born, and as such, she had a certain vulnerability, a certain innocence, that her pureblood peers lacked. Without a parent who could help her navigate the Wizarding World, she was more easily taken advantage of. As champion, Vasu considered it his responsibility to watch over her. Make sure that she did not stray from the path.
“Not at all…” Vasu responded distractedly to Mey’s inquiry about the attractiveness of the foreign student body. As he was marched along, his head swiveled to catch an eyeful of a girl who was waiting at the omelet bar. She was wearing red plaid pajama pants, a navy crop top that revealed a latticework of ink on her midsection, and a tangle of dirty-blond hair that fell effortlessly down her shoulders. But damn… he pined, closing his hand around the gaudy ring that graced his third finger. Admittedly, his situation wasn’t half as hopeless as it had seemed yesterday. The engagement ring meant that he couldn’t mess around with other girls, no, but given Chitrita’s beauty befitting of a goddess, why would he need to? A flame of excitement kindled inside him. His enchanted coin had predicted that he’d have a run-in with her today, and even the thought of an exchange as simple as how their days were going made him feel flushed, like he was sitting too close to a stove.
“Well, maybe not the gluten-free ones,” Vasu responded absently to Mey’s joke that the students were eating beauty like jam. They’d rounded a corner sharply and come up on a stretch of hallway where a crater had taken out half of the floor. It was marked off by yellow tape, and a haggard-looking professor was directing traffic, which had been reduced to a thin trickle as students skirted the crater in a single-file line, one direction at a time. Mey gasped and gaped at the massive hole in the floor, wondering aloud at its source. Fortunately, her ongoing theories meant that Vasu could get away with a laconic “Hmm,” because that was the only response he felt capable of at the moment. An ice cube of fear slid down his back, paralyzing him. It spread the longer that he and Mey were forced to wait their turn to cross the narrow pass and Vasu was confronted with the havoc that he had wreaked on the host school. He barely waited for the traffic director to signal them. Feeling like he could stand it no longer, Vasu jumped forward, and this time he was the one to seize Mey by the hand and drag her after him.
The close call left him feeling agitated and antsy and off-balance. When Mey asked if he was excited, Vasu responded a little more coldly than he intended to. “No, I’m not. Maybe if my school partner didn’t look like her hair had lost a battle with a thicket, I would be. Come here and hold still.” In an isolated corner of the courtyard, he swung Mey around so that her back was to him and plucked a wide-toothed comb out of his satchel. Then he let the bag fall onto a low stone bench and got to work, conscious of the dwindling minutes before class started. Vasu teased the snags out of Mey’s hair and separated it into three sections, deftly weaving them together into one long braid. At his request, she passed him a hair tie and he knotted it off. She registered her astonishment at his aptitude for braiding, running her fingers over his handiwork with admiration, and he snorted. “I have a little sister, a mum who works fifteen-hour days, and an absent father. Of course I know how to do girls’ hair. It’s one of my many talents,” he said drily, pretending that the praise meant nothing to him. Secretly, however, he was pleased.
A passing boy bumped into Mey from behind, and she lurched forward, spilling against Vasu’s chest. He caught her around the shoulders, and it was in this pose, while they were disentangling themselves, that he made eye contact with Aurelia Quansah. With her coal-black hair raining down her shoulders in intricate coils and her eyes made up subtly but expertly, she glowed like a new sun. Vasu forced a smile that he hoped didn’t look too awkward. Perhaps the flaming of his face would be attributed to the late-August warmth.
“Come on, then,” he said to Mey once Aurelia had passed. Vasu knew that his engagement to Chitrita made it a moot hope, but Aurelia had been his favorite dance of last night. He didn’t want her to think that he was already hitched with his school partner and dash any chances he might have with her, slim as they may be. Squinting against the morning sun, he and Mey scurried over the cobblestones of the courtyard and descended a short but steep hill to the edge of the forest, where a semicircle of twenty-some students sat on low stone benches. Space was at a premium, and Mey and Vasu were relegated to the back of the class. The air smelled like a heady combination of dew and buttered popcorn and the start of a new adventure on mountainous terrain.
Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Mey chittered something in an undertone that Vasu didn’t catch. The professor, a buxom woman with dyed hair who looked barely older than the students, was already standing before the class. With Vasu in tow, Mey tiptoed up to a slender girl with poofy hair and skin the color of maple syrup. Even sitting down, Vasu could tell that she was tall, perhaps a little taller than him. Mey tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun around on the bench. Her face split into a good-natured grin that mirrored Mey’s, who introduced the girl as Ramona. Ah, so you’re the American who’s trying to honeypot my teammate into letting her guard down, Vasu thought privately. Mey was a clumsy, babbling fool with no instinct for self-preservation or social climbing. Why else would someone be nice to her except to exploit her many weaknesses? Instead, he extended a hand, flashed his dimples in a million-dollar smile, and said, “Vasu Saini.” But I’m sure you already knew that. “Pleasure to meet you, Ramona. Do you mind if my teammate and I take this seat?” He gestured to the bench immediately next to hers. They held two students each, and this was the only empty one left.
Sanctuaryforall1
Pyrrha Nikos Lives On
Professor Azura Ito
Mahoutokoro - Female - Half-Blood - Professor
Just on the outskirts of the school grounds, a small grove lay with a babbling brook that rolled over smooth stones and between night-chilled boulders that had yet to warm in the early morning sun. Morning mist curled around the trunks of nearby trees and rolled over the dewy grass, the sun just beginning to break apart the thin fog which had crawled as high as the well-crafted wooden bridge that ran over the deepest part of the brook. If one were to be watching the grove at this time they might begin to question their sanity as in the blink of an eye a vision of beauty with chestnut hair, amber eyes, and soft olive skin appeared upon the bridge. For a moment she looked around, her gaze sweeping over the grove with some level of familiarity. It had changed since she had last set foot here. The bridge was older now, worn and weathered though she could still picture it as it had been not long after being built. The trees had grown, the red maple sapling Professor Juliana, may she rest in peace, had planted now stood as a proud fully grown tree in its own right. Azura looked upon it with a brief flash of fondness dancing across her whiskey gaze.
A few heartbeats were all it took for the proud-jawed woman to take off in confident strides down the path and away from the grove. Clearly a walk down memory lane was far from her top priority as her boot-clad feet found their way expertly through the forest, up the mountain path, and through the doors of the American wizarding academy. It had been in the early hours of the morning that news of young Odinson Lockjaw’s death had reached Mahoutokoro. As to be expected, such a tragedy was to be handled with care but also as swiftly and quietly as both schools involved could manage so as not to cause a panic. Odinson’s body had been collected and his cause of death was being investigated by the proper authorities to handle the matter. Professor Toro, the young Mahoutokoro herbology professor, who had been tasked with chaperoning both Odinson and Chitrita was recalled to the school in order to report what had happened and likely answer as to how he had allowed such a tragedy to occur. Azura for her part had been contacted mere hours ago and instructed that she would be taking Professor Toro’s place as chaperon to the remaining student, her duty to ensure a similar fate does not befall young Chitrita.
A knife twist of grief stabbed at the ancient witch's heart as she looked through the halls, seeing students strolling and laughing with one another. Their eyes bright, their faces glowing with life, their voices echoing off the walls. It was so simple and yet she chose to appreciate it for the youths who saw it as no more than any other day. Odinson would never experience anything of life again. He was young and extraordinary, a student she had been interested in seeing grow and witness where life would take him. Now she had the answer. Despite what some might believe loss and death never truly got any easier. Azura had dealt with more than her fair share of it over the ages and each one hurt. Some more than others. A thought that brought her fingers up to gently stroke the intricately engraved golden locket the hung around her neck, the face of her late husband hidden within. No, it didn’t get easier, she hadn’t grown numb to it, Azura had just grown better at hiding her sorrow and masking her grief.
Clearly, as to be expected, the news of a student’s death hadn’t reached the ears of the young yet. She doubted even every member of the staff had been made aware at this point but knew that they would soon enough. Right now however it was her job to track down young Chitrita and verify that she was well while also breaking the news of her classmate's fate to her in the privacy that such news deserved. A silent prayer grew within the potion's master as she hoped the news would not make it to the young woman before it came from her. She wasn’t entirely certain of how the news would affect the young woman, for all she knew there might be a part of Chitrita that could see Odinson’s fate as a blessing that pushes her further towards her own objectives. Chitrita was a young woman Azura could see bits of herself in which made her more than cautious and observant of her motives and ambitions. She could be such a lovely student, a pretty picture painted to perfection, the prized flower of the Pawar family yet Azura was certain that this flower had thorns and wouldn’t shy away from drawing blood from those who got too close.
Entering the great hall where students and professors alike were taking part in their early morning meal Azura looked around for the familiar features of the young woman who was one of her top-graded students. Her stomach rolled slightly and she blinked back unwelcome thoughts and memories as phantom burns itched under her tailored pants and form-flattering top. For the past decades, she had gotten so much better when faced with triggers such as the scent of bacon but since Akihito’s death the small clinging vines of trauma had begun to root back into her mind. A calming breath filled her lungs as she grounded herself in the moment and reminded herself that the scent could not hurt her, that it was not her who had been the source of it. She could almost hear Akihito’s voice in her ear whispering soft comforting words and after a heartbeat, the darkness passed. The scent of bacon still was far from pleasing but she no longer felt like she would fall into unwelcome memories or get sick, at least not at the moment.
Scanning the rows of tables for Chitrita the Mahoutokoro potions master’s full lips pulled into a slight frown as she failed to spot her pupil among the faces. Looking at her watch she knew the first classes would be starting soon. It wasn’t impossible to believe that Chitrita could already be on her way to or at her first subject of the day. Unfortunately, the Ilvermorny staff had yet to send her a copy of her student's schedule as she had requested so she couldn’t be certain of which classroom to make her way towards first. Looking around for a moment her amber gaze finally locked onto an older man entering the dining hall. “Excuse me.” She offered a polite smile as she approached him, her Italian accent dancing within her words. “Professor Ito, Mahoutokoro.” She introduced herself with a nod. “Would you happen to know which classes are currently in session for the visiting students?” She inquired as she assumed a man of his age was either a professor from Ilvermorny, a chaperoning professor from one of the other visiting schools, or at least some sort of member of the staff who might know what was going on.
Mentions: Darweshi
TobiornotTobi
Chitrita
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