It's probably not wise to pick that option, but I kinda want to anyways because I'm curious. Hopefully this won't end up with that curiosity killing the cat.Originally Posted by Daiki
Also can't help, but think of a Starcraft character whenever I see Stukov. /Petitions to change his name to Alexei Stukov.
No. The United Earth Directorate, this ain't.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
Hmm. Maybe I'll just go for...
[X] Give his all
[X] Depends on flow
[X] Elesa Labelle
182: Cooking - [X] Give his all; Duel - [X] Depends on flow
183: [x]AlexiMischa Stukov
Chapter 58. The Morning After
Twas the day after Christmas, and at the Durmstrang Institute, the Yule Ball had occurred just the night before. Part of the pageantry and spectacle of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, it had been both a formal dance open to all above fourth year, as well as the conclusion of the Second Task, with the Tri-Wizard Champions revealing the artifacts whose pieces they had painstakingly located and assembled over the last month, which upon activation had turned the drab castle of Durmstrang into a grotto of light and color, much to the surprise and elation of those present.
The organizers had wanted to create an event that would give the attendees of the Tournament a night of their own, after all, a time and place where students of the three competing schools could mingle and relax in the spirit of both the holidays and international cooperation.
Not that the students who had attended the Ball had generally had such high and lofty ideals on their minds.
Most of those from Hogwarts had simply been happy to enjoy an evening of leisure in the company of their peers, without the daily travails of classes, drills, and duties, the artificial barriers to socialization imposed by the Banners, or the forced integration with students from the other school. Most of those from Beauxbatons had enjoyed the opportunity to dress up in finery, and mingle with other attractive people their age, indulging in the delights of an evening of flirtation and networking, much more like what they were accustomed to.
Most of those from Durmstrang, of course, had also appreciated the opportunity to interact with the international counterparts in a setting outside of classes and duties, in a fine start to the school’s short week of holiday leave. Until the New Year, there would be no classes, and small groups of students from the school would be allowed to either to take liberty in Longyearbyen or to explore the archipelago under the guidance of their more seasoned colleagues – privileges that were not extended to the isle’s visitors.
As the hosts of this iteration of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, however, none, save for the Champions, could afford to fully take the evening off, as it was their responsibility to ensure that the Yule Ball went smoothly, which, given that Durmstrang had no house elves to handle cooking and cleaning, that attendees of such revels were sometimes known to overindulge in drink after a long period without such luxuries, and that several Champions had been attacked earlier in the year, had posed no small degree of difficulty.
At Hogwarts, the presence of the House Elves, and the magic used to transport finished dishes from the kitchen to the tables above tended to render moot any concerns about both providing a large enough variety of quality food that all attendees could find something they liked – and providing enough of it quickly enough to ensure no one grew irritable. At Durmstrang, however, where the cooking and serving of food was done by members of the student body, this meant that many of the Institute’s best cooks, who would have otherwise liked to enjoy the Ball, had been detailed to mess duty, with others, drawn by random lot from the more attractive individuals at the school, being assigned to serve as wait staff.
The other major concern for any large gathering had been not only ensuring the safety of the event’s attendees, but doing so without causing alarm or anxiety among them. Certainly, the last thing the Council of the Host wanted was for some British terrorist to decide that the Yule Ball, both as a symbol of international cooperation and as an event with many high value targets (the Champions) in attendance, presented an opportunity for mayhem and murder that simply could not be passed up. However, it would not do to panic their guests either, and so ruin their evening with the mere suggestion that danger was about, especially when many of them would be enjoying their first reprieve from the rigors of the arctic that night.
Thus, security fell to the Commander of the Banner of Serpents, Radu Eshkol Mann, and his handpicked cadre of Shadows, all of whom were skilled in operating under disillusionment (and employing other forms of stealth) for extended periods of time, and had been fitted with headgear that allowed them to see through concealment (like the eye of the late Alastor Moody), track the positions of their colleagues (who wore linked devices), and communicate with their fellows through converting their subvocalizations to text on a sort of face-mounted display.
For these worthies, there would be no opportunity for those to cavort and revel this night, but then, none was necessary. To them, a job well done was its own reward, and to be chosen to serve, all the honor they needed.
They did their duty, through the evening and the long night, and were doing it still, when morning came, whatever morning meant in a place where the sun did not rise, and one of the guests of honor of the event, stirred from his slumber.
On a long settee to the side of the Great Hall of Durmstrang, Matou Shinji slowly opened his eyes, yawning as he blinked away the blurriness in them. The night had gone well, he thought, with the dresses – and dress robes – he’d provided for his fellow Champions making quite a stir among the attendees.
With any luck, there would be more orders coming in soon for Fashion House LeShin, which was good, as he needed to have some kind of income to survive, especially if he could no longer rely on the dwindling resources of the Room of Requirement.
‘I hadn’t expected so many of Beauxbatons girls to ask me to dance though…’ he mused, wondering why so many of the younger ones wanted to spend time in his company. ‘Or for them to seem so cheerful when I had to decline, explaining that a true gentleman should prioritize his companion for the evening.’
He chalked it up to some quirk of the French that he simply hadn’t encountered before, given that he had only really spent time around the two Champions of Beauxbatons, neither of whom were exactly typical students of the school.
Speaking of Fleur…
‘I’m glad she had a good time last night. And that she liked the dress.’
The part-Veela had seemed to barely be standing when he’d first seen her on Christmas, having just returned to the castle earlier that morning. She’d waved him off when he asked how she was, saying that things were fine, but Shinji had been unconvinced. Having been out in the frozen wastes of Svalbard himself until recently, he could imagine what an ordeal the Second Task must have been like for her, given that she’d not been able to take even a sleeping bag or tent to sleep in, or much in the way of food.
As her assigned date, he had considered his duty as a gentleman to make sure the evening was enjoyable for her, even if under normal circumstances, she would likely never give him the time of day, a feeling that was amplified when he took her hand for the Champions Waltz, and was struck by just how beautiful she was.
Intellectually, he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, as he knew she was Etoile of Beauxbatons, and had helped to design the dress she was wearing that night, yet seeing her clad in that gown wrought of spun moonlight, shining with a quiet sense of satisfaction, even he had been rendered breathless.
‘Well. I wasn’t the only one,’ he told himself. Many of the young woman in attendance had been quite envious of Fleur’s dress, and many of the young men struck dumb – even some from Hogwarts, who would ordinarily have nothing good to say about her.
Indeed, there had been many suitors who had approached her that night, eager for an opportunity to dance with, or try to court the charming Champion of Beauxbatons…and perhaps to see if there was any truth to the old rumors of how insatiable she was, but she’d rebuffed them all, declaring her intent to spend the evening with her gallant bodyguard instead.
And he’d granted her wish, whiling away the hours with the lovely part-Veela, talking, laughing, and more, as both recounted bits and pieces from their respective journeys into the wastes.
During that time, some had approached him or her, but neither really had eyes for anyone else that night, with Fleur even refusing an offer to dance from George – something that Shinji had been mildly surprised about, since his fellow Stone Cutter was not a bad looking fellow – even if she’d looked a bit wistful as the redhead walked away.
She’d asked him about the dress, the Potions Competition, and if he wouldn’t rather be spending his time with the Etoile Noire, though Shinji had shaken his head at the last.
It was true that, after the Champions Waltz, Rachelle Lestrange had left Viktor Krum to his own devices, as she’d not had any interest in the international Quidditch star, but the moment she had, Rachelle Sondrol, the statuesque redhead who was Potions Champion of Durmsrang, had accosted her and asked her to dance.
To the surprise of those watching, Lestrange, who had been cold to almost all others, had accepted the Field Marshal’s invitation, and for the rest of the evening, they had been inseparable, their bodies moving together in an ancient song of ice and fire.
Not that Krum had been left to suffer the indignity of being abandoned by his date, as the young man had no shortage of dance invitations from the young maidens of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, many of whom found his courage and the wounds he bravely carried after the incident with the Selma quite charming, as he was very much the classic dark, brooding hero.
Unsurprisingly, there had been none from Hogwarts, except for one from Miss Parkinson, who was less interested in him as a man than what he had experienced during the Second Task – which Krum supposed he should have found insulting, but actually had found to be something of a relief, even if it was just another affirmation of just how far a reporter would go to try and get an interview.
George, of course, meanwhile, after being rebuffed by Fleur – something he’d accepted in good humor – had gone on to dance with a few of the more eligible young ladies of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and none from Hogwarts, save for, once again, Pansy, though with him, the girl was interested in him as a man. Or at least, as a wizard with a great deal of power.
But Shinji had simply stayed with Fleur, hearing of her adventures, her family, her thoughts on what she might do after she finished out this year, and telling her a bit about his past in turn, his arts, his status as an orphan, and his distant homeland, so different from this place.
“It’s quite a bit warmer,” he’d said conspiratorially, to which Fleur had laughed.
“Zat is not a ‘ard claim to make, Monsieur Matou,” she’d replied playfully. “Tell me somezing more surprising. Somezing zat would surprise even Rachelle!”
“Well…I might be leaving Britain next year,” Shinji had offered, more seriously, to which the part-Veela had raised an eyebrow.
“Vy?”
“It’s what happens when you’re a foreigner in a country where you’re no longer welcome,” the boy had replied with a shrug, a sad smile crossing his lips. “So, I’ll do my duty as Champion and then go from there, I suppose.”
“Perhaps you could come to Beauxbatons,” Fleur had offered. “You would be velcome, as a former Champion.”
“Heh. Maybe,” Shinji had said. “Thank you for the offer. How do you say…’merci beaucoup?’”
“Oui,” Fleur had answered, smiling faintly.
The two had talked long into the night, as one by one, people began to leave the Great Hall, slipping away to their Banners, to corners of the castle, or perhaps the grounds outside, eventually finding themselves on one of the settees tucked into a corner, looking on as the last dance was held, with Andreas Tornquist, the tall sandy-haired youth who was Commander of the Banner of Ravens, escorting Sylvana Terum, the willowy white-haired beauty who commanded the Banner of Wolves, with the two seeming rather...close.
Most from Beauxbatons – and Hogwarts – were shocked by this, and a few even a little scandalized, not being familiar with the long and tangled history of the two, though some of those from Durmstrang, who had known both of them from their first years at the school, were hardly surprised, given the tension that had lain between them for quite some time.
After that though, Shinji didn’t really remember much. He imagined, with some chagrin, that he must have dozed off, as the long evening of food, drink, and talk finally took its toll.
‘I hope Fleur made it back to her room. The Banner of Ravens isn’t especially close, and she was rather tired after all…’
Feeling a little guilty, the boy resolved to check on his date soon, though he didn’t really feel like getting up. After all, he felt rather content with how things had gone, on the whole, and was rather warm and comfortable. In fact, he could almost feel a gentle rhythmic motion, like a sigh, easing any hint of frustration of anxiety, giving him a sense of peace in these lands so far away from the hubbub of civilization.
‘Hm? A sigh?’ he wondered idly, and as he paid more attention, he realized that the sound was someone breathing, and that underneath the blanket that had thrown over him (and when had that happened?), he could see a head of pale blonde hair.
He started, the blanket falling away to reveal the still-sleeping form of Fleur Delacour, nestled against him in her somewhat disheveled formal dress. In the candlelight, the delicate vulnerability of the part-Veela's features was breathtaking, and with her in his arms, he felt that he didn't want to be anywhere else, that he was fine just where he was, by her side.
'Wait...what?'
Shinji blinked. Somehow, that...seemed wrong. He didn't...but she was so beautiful, so warm, her lips so very kissable. Why, if he just leaned in, he could--
'What am I doing?' the boy asked himself, pausing in mid-motion, as he'd already begun leaning towards her, as if to steal a kiss. 'I don't...Fleur isn't...even if she's a Veela, a...'
A Veela.
Shinji tensed, biting his lips as he quickly ran through the exercise of purging the emotional state of his public partition, loading a blank from his private partition instead, with the compulsion to hold Fleur, to kiss her and...more...fading as he did, much to his relief.
'What did I almost do? And why...?'
But while the boy was pondering these questions, it was made obvious to him that he was not alone, with the slim form of Radu Eshkol Mann materializing from the air to appear in his view, alongside several black-cloaked figures.
"Champion Matou," the dark-eyed Commander of the Banner of Serpents greeted quietly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Serpent Lord," Shinji replied respectfully. "Yes. I'm well rested."
"I see," Radu noted, raising an eyebrow. "You are to be commended for resisting prolonged exposure to a Veela's aura. Not many can claim such resilience of mind, especially not when they first awaken."
Shinji felt a bit of chagrin at the older boy's compliment, given that he hadn't really resisted - had almost succumbed to it and done something in fact, something he couldn't take back. Despite himself, he felt his cheeks becoming hot...
"Were you...watching the entire time?" he asked, finally. He hadn’t remembered seeing them around, after all, but if they’d been invisible…
"Indeed,” the Serpent Lord confirmed with a nod. “I and the others who volunteered to handle event security." The older youth seemed friendly enough, though Shinji couldn't tell what Radu was thinking. "Truthfully, the Yule Ball ended hours ago, but we remained because you and your companion did, and it was our duty to keep you safe. Another Champion will not be...molested in this school on my watch." He chuckled then. “Not unless they desire it.”
"That's...very commendable," Shinji replied after a few moments, trying to remain still, as Fleur hadn't yet woken up, and he didn't want to bother her, given that he knew she hadn't slept well in quite some time.
"It is our duty. There is no need to commend us for performing such," Radu reproached. "Be that as it may, Champion, may I inquire as to your plans, now that you are awake?"
"My...plans?" Shinji echoed.
"Indeed," Radu noted. "If you wish to return to sleep, I suppose that is your right. If you wish to remain here with your fellow Champion until she wakes, my Shadows can redeploy themselves to give you two some privacy. If you wish to wake her and escort her back to Raven's Keep, we will take our leave. And if you wish to return to the Keep first, we can certainly keep watch over her. The choice is yours."
For a short, traitorous moment, Shinji found himself tempted to just hug the part-Veela close and go back to sleep, but he thought otherwise.
“I’d…could you help me get up without…” he murmured, trailing off as he nodded at Fleur’s sleeping form.
“Heh. Certainly,” Radu replied, seeming faintly amused, waving his hand as the blanket that had slid to the floor floated into the air, slipping between Fleur and Shinji and slowly lifting her up just enough so that Shinji could slide out from under her. He did so, swinging his feet off the couch and down, with Radu taking the cue to lower the Veela once again, so her head rested on her companion’s thighs.
“Thank you,” Shinji said quietly. “Its…I’ll stay with her until she wakes, if you want to head off. You probably haven’t slept, have you?”
“Heh…you are quite considerate for someone from Hogwarts,” the Serpent Lord noted. “Perhaps there is something to what the young ladies of Beauxbatons say about you.”
Shinji blinked.
“…and just what do they say?” the boy asked, dreading whatever the answer might be.
“Why, that you are like a modern Lancelot, a gallant Knight who betrayed his country and his King for the sake of the woman he loved, and that like that Knight of old, you have eyes for no others but her,” Radu answered, both of his eyebrows rising in surprise. “You did not notice how those maidens swooned as you refused them, giving your attention entirely to your lovely companion?”
Shinji froze.
“What.”
“The legend of Lancelot comes from France, after all,” the Commander of the Banner of Serpents added. “But yes, you have become something of a romantic figure to them. And perhaps even to Britain, though there, Lancelot is seen more as a traitor. We shall see what the newspapers say about you on the morrow.”
“…newspapers?” Shinji squeaked, his mouth going dry.
“Yes, newspapers,” Radu confirmed, gesturing as his fellows went invisible once more. “While you slept, two reporters took photographs of you. One from La Vérité, and one from your Daily Prophet. Surely you do not fear the press, Champion?”
“Only as much as they deserve,” Shinji quipped, though inside he was panicking, as he just knew this would portrayed in the worst light possible. “Only as much as they deserve.”
With that, he closed his eyes and focused on his occlumency, thinking that now, more than ever, he needed to get his thoughts in order.
‘…and after going back to Hogwarts, I need to talk to Lockhart. Maybe after doing some potions work to calm down. Maybe Luna can help…’
Choice 184: Aside from Mischa Stukov, which other Champion is Shinji most interested in learning about?
[ ] (write-in)
Choice 185: Dinnertime in the Champion's village is something of a do-as-you-wish affair. There is no set schedule for it, with visitors to the isle being welcome to go wherever they wish within the areas protected by the walls. The primary eatery in town is a small popup cafe thato only operates during the time of the potions championship and offers a small, but delicious, array of dishes - free of charge (as the ticket price to come to the isle at all, for those who had to buy them, is rather...steep) - including samples of the Champions' cooking from the earlier culinary challenges.
The Champions of course, also have their own dining area within their housing block, if they so choose to use it, stocked with simple but hearty fare, where they can be away from the eyes of the public and the press. Or of course, if one wishes, one can request for food to be delivered to their room, where their only company is whoever they invite in.
The question is, after his day of cooking and dueling, where would Shinji like to have dinner?
[ ] His Room - (alone/with Luna/with write-in)
[ ] In town - Catching up with Tomas and/or Touko
[ ] In the Champions Dining Area - to better get to know his fellow Champions
If the Champions Dining Area is chosen, who does he sit with? (choose one)
[ ] ...with Rachelle Lestrange and Rachelle Sondrol
[ ] ...with Elesa Labelle, Ramona Ahgeak, and Sajyou Ayaka
[ ] ...with Olu Akindele, Ka'aukai Kapule, and Libatius Müller
[ ] ...with Mischa Stukov and Parambir Agarwal
[ ] ...by himself
Last edited by alfheimwanderer; July 21st, 2017 at 05:35 PM.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
[x] In town - it would be useful catching up with Tomas
If touko use our ticket in Tomas is because he could be really useful here, maybe he can be useful to us.
[x]Olu Akindele.
[x] In the Champions Dining Area.
[x]...with Elesa Labelle, Ramona Ahgeak, and Sajyou Ayaka.
We might as well go for investigating another of the top dogs now.
Champion Dining Area because dining outside is a trap!!
This one because Senpai might notice us.
Last edited by Daiki; July 22nd, 2017 at 03:23 PM.
We should really do something nice for Luna. She's more forgiving then we deserve, but the entire wizarding school of fangirls...
Choice 184:
[x] (write-in) Elesa. We've seen her in action, we know that she's immensly powerfuland she's a Chosen of Gaia, sent with important mission
Choice 185:
[x] In the Champions Dining Area
[x] ...with Elesa Labelle, Ramona Ahgeak, and Sajyou Ayaka
Let's not be a third wheel between Rachelles and just join senpai.
Someone less understanding (Hermione) or who believed what the Prophet was saying would probably have done something drastic by now, yes. Even Rin would have been quite displeased if she knew about all of Shinji's antics - or had a chance to read about them in the paper.
Thankfully, Luna, as the daughter of the editor of the Quibbler, is not one to put much stock in the Prophet's accuracy.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
Sit in the Champions dining area by himself. I kind of want to know what that could lead to and the worst case scenario is nothing.
If you choose that, he will likely be approached by someone. Who though, will not be under your control.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
Change my vote to
[x]champions dining area by himself
[X] Elesa Labelle, Champion of Ilvermorny
[X] In the Champions Dining Area.
[X] ...with Elesa Labelle, Ramona Ahgeak, and Sajyou Ayaka.
[x] Sajyou Ayaka
Will Sempai notice Shinji in a positive way, unlike last year?
[X] In the Champions Dining Area - to better get to know his fellow Champions
Notice how all the other champions are in sitting at dinner in the next choice, being the one person that does not eat there the first day will look bad, as well as label him as the loner, a bad thing when you are the underdog.
The last choice is far more tricky to me. There are several factors that I think people need to thing about.
First, is that all of the groups Shinji knows/met at least one person at the table except for Mischa and Parambir's table, but considering that the dark lord that Mischa's family fought was very likely to have been Shinji's grandpa (who in his youth looks very much like Shinji) its best that we do not spend time with Mischa without an powerful ally nearby, especially if we failed to impress people of Shinji ability to defend himself.
Second, sitting by himself does in fact have a potential bad side, if Mischa is gunning for Shinji or at least will be once he sees him, then Shinji sitting by himself will embolden any hostile action from Mischa or whoever since the Hogwarts champion will seem that he like the entire British people is going for it alone with no allies.
I agree with people thoughts that its best not to be the third wheel with the two Rachaels. Best not to annoy Lestrange to much. That and sitting there sends the message to the rest that elite Europe is too good to sit with the rest of the world.
I like the choice sitting at the Elesa, Ramona and Sajou table for same reasons as why others are picking it, but I also like the Olu Akindele, Ka'aukai Kapule, and Libatius Müller option as its three people that Shinji can get to know. And franky its best to get the Hippo animagus on a more friendly base, since Hippo are mean deadly animals that kill more people in Africa than any other animal, on a continent noted for big deadly animals. I fear Shinji running into this character while near water.
[x] ...with Elesa Labelle, Ramona Ahgeak, and Sajyou Ayaka.
Unless someone wants to join with me in having Shinji branch out a bit by voting for sitting with Olu, Ka'aukai and Libatius. I'll change my vote to that one if people want to go that route.
Last edited by Skull Leader; July 22nd, 2017 at 12:57 AM.
I see that Touko was added, Alf. I won't fall for your trap so easily!!
I'm glad someone else came to this conclusion.
It was either Ayaka's or the Olu's group for me. So I don't mind switching votes.Unless someone wants to join with me in having Shinji branch out a bit by voting for sitting with Olu, Ka'aukai and Libatius. I'll change my vote to that one if people want to go that route.
I'll go with;
[x] Elesa Labelle.
[x] ...with Olu Akindele, Ka'aukai Kapule, and Libatius Müller.
Last edited by Daiki; July 22nd, 2017 at 03:25 PM.
Hmm.
[X] Elesa Labelle.
[X] ...with Olu Akindele, Ka'aukai Kapule, and Libatius Müller.
Ok, let's go meet some new people.
Changing my vote to ...with Olu Akindele, Ka'aukai Kapule, and Libatius Müller
184: [x] Elesa Labelle.
185: [x] ...with Olu Akindele, Ka'aukai Kapule, and Libatius Müller.
Chapter 59. Waltz Away Dreaming
When she arrived back at Durmstrang on the morning of the Yule Ball, Fleur Delacour had been astonished at how strange it felt to be among other people her age after nearly a month alone once the ice (with one notable interlude, though what had happened there…)
‘Non. Zat vas a moment of weakness, zat is all,’ she told herself, even as flashes of that chance encounter bubble up in her mind.
Fevered touches and whispered words.
The scent and taste of another.
A languid smile in the afterglow.
‘Non. Ze Ball is tonight. I cannot be so…distracted.’
Or let anyone know how out of sorts she felt, because that would make them think she was weak, and as a Champion – one who had already been the target of rumors and assassination – that was the last thing she could afford.
So she’d put these things out of her mind, schooling her features into a polite mask as she nodded to those she passed, making her way to Raven’s Keep and the hot springs it held, marveling all the while at how her schoolmates could complain about the temperature inside the walls of Durmstrang when it was quite pleasant compared to how things were outside, or how they grumbled about being assigned to mess duty, cleaning duty, or other maintenance work for one day a week, when, during the Second Task, she would have killed (perhaps literally) for just a single other person to share in the hard work of simply surviving in the frozen north.
‘Ve do not recognize how lucky we are, until we are not…’
When she had first become Champion, she hadn’t expected – hadn’t been ready – for anything like the excursion she had just returned from, or the alienation and abuse she’d endured at the hands of students from Hogwarts and Durmstrang earlier in the year.
It had been truly terrifying to learn just how alone one could be even in a crowd, and how grateful she could be for the presence of just one – or two – people who had stood by her, endured the abuse and speculation with her.
That Rachelle Lestrange, the Etoile Noire of Beauxbatons, would side with her, yes, given that they were both Champions of Beauxbatons, and how the terrifying young Alchemist had…dealt with similar situations, given how some spoke of her as a cold-hearted murderess, with no consideration for human mores, given how all of her rivals for the position of Potions Champion had mysteriously dropped dead – even Anton Duvais, the French Minister’s only child.
The Etoile-presumptive, who many had respected, idolized, or allied themselves with, due to great web of influence he commanded, and how those who got in his way inevitably found themselves regretting it in ways that could not be traced back to him.
Until his encounter with Lestrange, which had not merely been decisive but…final in way Fleur was sure Duvais had not expected, with him, and the greatest of his allies, not just socially ruined but dead when all was said and done.
So yes, she had expected Rachelle to be her ally in the face of such hostility, and as much as the ruthlessness of the petite young woman terrified her, had found her willingness to stand by her comforting. She had not expecting to find the Champions of Hogwarts – the very school responsible for nearly killing her – choosing to stand against their school and their people for her.
… she’d suspected that they must have unwittingly been taken in by her allure, but that had turned out to be untrue.
Matou, after all, seemed to have a resistance to her aura – perhaps due to his deep attraction to Lestrange, which never failed to amuse her, given how hopeless his suit would be if he attempted to pursue the petite blonde.
And Weasley…was utterly unaffected.
‘I ‘ave never met anyone who vas immune…whose attraction was not at least partially due to my allure…’
Perhaps that was why she had…stumbled as she had, coupled with her loneliness and the raw sense of need that his unexpected companionship had inspired.
‘I am not like…zis. I do not…I am not ze slattern some zay I am,’ she told herself, telling herself that if her body had become heated at his touch, it was because of how cold it had been outside, and how much she had missed being around…someone.
Anyone.
Not because she’d been taken in by his charms or affected in some deeper.
It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.
Not while she was a Champion, with a duty to uphold to herself and the school she represented.
Maybe when all this was behind them, when the Tournament was over and…
‘Non.’
She ruthlessly quashed that thought too. With Wizarding Britain having left the International Confederation of Warlocks, to pursue its mad policy of warmongering, there was no future in pursuing anything of that sort. Far less with someone who would likely be conscripted into the British Army, the existence of which was making many wizarding nations nervous, as they did not know who that army would be sent against, despite the loud noises Britain had made about Bulgaria.
But on the topic of the future…
‘Vat will I do, when zis year is over?’
Whether or not she earned the prize of “Eternal Glory” in the Tri-Wizard Tournament (and the rather more tangible monetary reward that came with it), there was still the concern of what she would choose to do for the rest of her life.
The obvious route for someone like her, of course, was to become a model, or something similar, where her appearance and allure could be leveraged to give her the greatest advantage possible, but coasting through life because of her beauty wasn’t what she wanted for herself.
Perhaps the foreign service, like her father before her?
A reporter, like her mother had once been?
There were so many possibilities to choose from once one left the hallowed halls of Beauxbatons, emerging out into the world with contacts and aspirations aplenty.
‘I envy Rachelle. ‘er path is set.’
After all, the young Alchemist would no doubt be headed to the Centre for Alchemical Studies after graduation, following in the footsteps of her esteemed ancestor, or failing that, into a research position with the Ministry, where her skills would no doubt be highly valued.
She herself had no such luxury.
Such were Fleur Delacour’s musings as the part-Veela found her footsteps carrying her to the hot springs reserved for the use of the Champions, from which issued a peal of gentle laughter.
‘Zat is…Rachelle?’
It sounded like her fellow Champion, but she’d never known the Etoile Noire to be so…carefree.
“Rachelle?” she asked, as she disrobed and set her clothing aside, before opened the door and padding naked into the bathing area.
“Yes?”
“Oui?”
Two voices spoke at once, with one indeed being that the sweet soprano of Rachelle Lestrange, her fellow Champion from Beauxbatons, though the other, a throaty contralto, belonged to Rachelle Sondrol, the Potions Champion and Field Marshal of Durmstrang, with Fleur noting with a more than a trace of envy that the redhead’s nude figure was shapelier than her own.
“Ah, Fleur! You ‘ave returned,” Lestrange greeted, seeming a little more lighthearted than usual – or perhaps she was reading too much into things, after having been away for so long. “Joyeux Noël! Join us.”
“Yes, please do,” the Raven Lieutenant added quickly. “I’m sure you’ve missed having a proper soak after your time in the wilderness. I know I feel like that after any excursions I take.”
“Mm,” Fleur mumbled wordlessly, taking the invitation and slipping into the water, quietly reveling in the feel of its liquid warmth all around her.
“Ahhhhh…”
“Enjoying yourself?” Sondrol’s voice broke into her reverie, tinged with amusement.
“…oui.”
“I thought you might be. Your fellow Champion went through much the same thing last week, after her own expedition.”
Fleur blinked.
Ah, that was right.
The Etoile Noire had gone off with the Hogwarts Potions Champion and their press representative, in a move that had scandalized quite a few of the students at the school, given their own tawdry assumptions.
But what…?
“Rachelle…” the part-Veela spoke after some moments of silence, thinking that mere speculation wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Vat were you doing in ze wilderness?”
“Dealing with ze source of ze rumors about you, Fleur,” the petite blonde replied from where she was reclining, her pale gold hair fanning out around her like a halo. “More zan that, I cannot say.”
“Oh?” Fleur pressed, thinking there was no harm in probing more deeply.
“It iz better you do not know for now, Fleur,” the Etoile Noire said gently, but firmly. “Ze matter iz…a sensitive one, and you are…fatigued.”
“Mm…c’est vrai,” the part-Veela admitted. “And ze day ‘as only just begun.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Rachelle Sondrol agreed, stepping out of the spring and stretching languidly, as drops of water trailed down her form. “The Yule Ball is tonight, after all.” The statuesque redhead chuckled throatily. “I trust you have the relic shards assembled?”
“Yes,” Fleur replied.
“Glad to hear it,” Sondrol noted, as she padded to the door. “I will see you both there, then. For now, I must ensure that the Council’s final preparations are nearly complete.”
With that, the Field Marshal of Durmstrang vanished, leaving the two girls from Beauxbatons alone.
For a short time, there was silence, before Fleur remembered something.
“Ah…zat is right, ze Ball!” Fleur exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Merde alors!”
“It vill be alright, Fleur,” the soft voice of Rachelle Lestrange said reassuringly.
“But…who am I going with? Will vat I wear match? W—“
“You will be going with le Matou,” the petite blonde replied with a hint of mischief. “And ‘e ‘as generously supplied all of us with dress robes.”
“…all of us?” Fleur echoed, blinking. “You mean, ze conversation you ‘ad with him about matching outfits…”
Rachelle Lestrange laughed quiet, a delicate sound like tinkling bells that her fellow Champion found it difficult to reconcile with her image of the Etoile Noire as a ruthless killer.
“Oui. It vas to provide outfits for each and every Champion,” the other explained. “I received them zis morning, and they are lovely, Fleur.”
“Oh? What fashion house…?”
“…LeShin,” the petite blonde answered meaningfully.
“Le Shi…” Fleur repeated, but trailed off. “Mais non! Champion Matou est un couturier?!”
“So it seems, Fleur. ‘e ‘as many talents, c’est vrai,” Lestrange noted with a very gallic shrug.
“Mm, ‘o will you be going with, Rachelle?” the part-Veela inquired. “Viktor Krum? Ou… G-george Veasley?” She cursed silently to herself as she nearly stumbled over the boy’s name. Just because being in these hot springs reminded her of him didn’t mean anything. It was just that the last time she’d had a good soak, he’d been there. That was all.
“Krum,” her colleague answered. “It is Sondrol who vill be going vith Weasley.” Fleur nodded, but looked over sharply as Lestrange began to speak once more. “A curious boy, zat one. Do you know ‘im well, Fleur?”
Fleur blushed, letting herself sink deeper into the water in an attempt to hide her face.
“N-non, not well,” she lied. She had known him in the most intimate way a woman could know a man, after all. “V-vy, Rachelle?”
“Nothing at all,” her companion remarked lightly, her tone unreadable. “…just that I believe ’e was the one zat saved you, Fleur, zat ‘alloween night. And that, like you, ‘e is not quite ‘uman.”
With that pair of verbal bombshells, the Potions Champion of Beauxbatons took her leave, with Fleur left wondering how Rachelle could possibly know any of this – and what it all meant if it was true?
Attending the Yule Ball that night had been more difficult than she’d thought it would be, given the sights, the sounds, the smells – the presence of all the people. It was, in a word, overwhelming, after so long without dealing with anyone at all, even someone who had once been quite used to such affairs as the Etoile of Beauxbatons.
‘Or zat was who I vas…but now?’
Now what had been familiar had become alien, and the alien familiar, though she at least had some experience navigating the subtle expectations of events she was not entirely comfortable with, and the responsibilities of the Champions had been quite firmly laid out.
First, the Champions, in the order in which they had returned to the castle, would present the evidence that they had completed the Second Task – or the lack of such evidence – for the assembled judges, who would assess whether or not they had done so satisfactorily by the simple expedient of seeing if their assembled artifacts could be activated.
Thankfully, hers functioned as well as those of her competitors, and all could proceed to the final phase of the Tournament, for which would be expected to find a partner – and in which the artifacts they had assembled would play a vital part.
This just left her wanting more details, but that, Headmaster Karkaroff stated, was a worry for another night, with the man proceeding to ask the Champions to open the night’s revels with the traditional Champions Waltz.
Under normal circumstances, Matou Shinji, a young boy who was in many respects a poor match for her, would not have been her first choice as a companion for the evening.
Not her second either, or her third.
But then, this Ball – this whole year – was a strange one, and she in the midst of the chaos she was forced to deal with, she found the safety he represented quite refreshing. He’d sworn to be her bodyguard and to protect her from all enemies, after all, whatever form they took, without any ulterior motive.
Well, except perhaps the approval of Rachelle Lestrange, but that was hardly relevant.
After all, as neither of them were interested in the other, they could be far more relaxed – far more themselves than if they were putting on an appearance to try and impress someone else.
‘I wonder if Viktor ‘as similar thoughts about ‘is companion…’
She didn’t think so, though. For one, he wouldn’t be disoriented from a first exposure to the hostile environment of Svalbard, having effectively lived there for most of the last seven years of his life. And for another…
‘Rachelle didn’t exactly stay with him after ze first dance!’
What a scandal it was, that the Etoile Noire had chosen to spend the evening with the Field Marshal of Durmstrang instead! Viktor, certainly, had seemed surprised when his date abandoned him for someone else – much less another woman, the expression of naked shock on his face revealing that he’d never experienced - and never expected – such a thing.
George Weasley, however, seemed a much better sport about his own companion’s departure, even managing a crooked smile as saw the two Potions Champions together – and then, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and winked, as if he’d noticed her watching him.
The part-Veela had colored deeply and turned away, telling young Matou that she needed to sit down, and he, every bit the gentleman, had led her to a table and offered to get her a drink.
‘Weasley…’
After…what had happened in the wilderness between them, it was been…strange, seeing him again, especially when she was wearing a new set of dress robes that were tailored perfectly for her and drew the attention of so many – and he was in formalwear that, coupled with his fiery hair, made him look like a child of the sun.
While Matou was away getting her a drink, the Tri-Wizard Champion of Hogwarts had come over to her, asking if she would like to dance, that…that smile playing over his lips.
“No, I…my feet. Zey hurt,” she told him, making her excuses.
She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, after all, to let him believe that their encounter had been anything more than a moment of weakness. Yet, even so, there was a strange pang in her chest when he simply accepted her rejection and returned to the dance floor, where he had no shortage of dance partners.
Seeing him with those other girls, holding them close in his warm arms as they moved toge—
The part-Veela shook her head, clearing it of troublesome thoughts she wanted no part of.
‘Zit must be ze disorientation. Ze combination of everyzing at once….’ She told herself. The ache then, meant nothing, just a strained muscle perhaps, from moving in a way she hadn’t in a while, or from her body simply being too tired after weeks in the cold. ‘It means nothing.’
Yes. That was undoubtedly the most reasonable explanation, as she had only managed to make her way back to Durmstrang the morning of the Ball, the last of all the Champions to return. And undoubtedly, she was the least experienced at the vagaries of survival, so it was inevitable, with the stresses and shocks of the sudden transition back to somewhere relatively more civilized, that the many aches and pains she’d ignored in the wilderness would come rushing back with a vengeance, now that danger was no longer nigh.
But then Matou returned with a drink and said something droll, something that made her laugh, distracting her from her troubles. He accompanied her throughout the evening, in fact, turning down invitations from other girls closer to his age – admirers of his from Beauxbatons, she thought – for a dance, a walk, or a talk somewhere more private.
And when she asked him if he wouldn’t rather be spending the evening with someone else, he replied, “No. I could ask no more from the evening than the pleasure of your company.”
It was a lie, of course, if a gallant one.
Having gone to Beauxbatons and being familiar with how it did things, Fleur Delacour knew how to spot a liar, and so she knew that in that moment, Matou Shinji was one.
‘Mm, ‘e would rather be with ze Etoile Noire…’
Which he proved by glancing over at the petite blonde with a wistful expression, every once in a while, when he thought Fleur might be distracted. Still, the part-Veela appreciated the lie for the kindness it represented.
She didn’t expect him to be so…nice to her, especially when she wasn’t what or who he wanted, but then le Matou was rather unusual, even among those of Hogwarts. Even if he wouldn’t be “of Hogwarts” for too much longer, it seemed.
“Be my partner,” she offered impulsively, once the boy who had done so much for her explained his circumstances. “For ze final task.”
Evidently, this caught the boy by surprise, given the dumbfounded expression on his face—
“W-wha?”
—and his somewhat less than coherent response.
“Why me?” Shinji asked, once he had recovered from his utter shock. "I mean, you don’t even know what the final task will be, do you?"
“Non,” Fleur admitted. “But I ‘ave fought by your side before. And I know I can trust you.”
“Yes, but why not…?” He glanced over at where the two Rachelles were dancing.
“Rachelle…is talented,” the part-Veela conceded. “Zit is true. Mais…’er future is secure. Yours is not, Matou.”
“…this is for my sake then?” Shinji questioned.
“Oui,” the blonde noted with a simple smile. “So zat if you choose to come to Beauxbatons, you vill ‘ave an advantage dealing vith ze social hierarchy. You would be a former Champion, yes, but you would also be a Champion’s companion and friend.” She paused for a moment, taking a breath. “You ‘ave ‘elped me without my asking it of you. Let me ‘elp you, mon ami.”
For some long moments, Shinji was quiet, as it was indeed quite the offer – even if taking it would probably seal his fate with Britain.
“I’ll have think about it,” the boy from the east said eventually. “I can’t agree right away, without knowing what’s expected of me, since I have a competition of my own to do, remember? After all, it would hardly be gentlemanly if I were to make you a promise, if I couldn’t keep it.”
“You are kind, Matou. Enough so zat I think you are too much so,” Fleur noted, her expression thoughtful. Someone as thoughtful and earnest as he was might have…difficulties at Beauxbatons, given that things tended to be much more…convoluted there, with most having hidden agendas and ulterior motives.
Where everything was much, much murkier, unless one happened to be Rachelle Lestrange.
For her, the usual rules didn’t apply, and very few would dare to try to impose them on her. She terrified them, after all, mostly because those who hadn’t known to be afraid and crossed her weren’t exactly around anymore.
Matou Shinji wasn’t that terrifying, really. He was a knight, not a grim reaper – at least as far as she knew. She supposed it was possible he was completely different when he was away from Durmstrang, with a reputation at his home institution like that of the Etoile Noire, but she didn’t think so.
“Thank you,” he said, nodding. “But as I said, I need to think about it.”
“As long as you do,” she replied reasonably.
She couldn’t really ask for more, since it was his choice in the end. She was just surprised to know that Britain would even think about banishing someone they’d chosen as a Champion, given the weight such a position held.
They whiled away the hours, not entirely remarkably, talking about safer topics, sharing stories of their homelands and aspirations, with the boy mentioning that one of the Potions Champions was also a model, so perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing to go into.
“You are quite lovely enough for it,” Shinji praised, as Fleur smiled ever so slightly. “And well, I do run a Fashion House, it is true.”
“Yes, and merci beaucoup for ze dress, but…I vish to be appreciated for more zan my beauty,” the part-Veela replied, fiercely. “I am of Veela blood, but I am more zan just zat!”
“…I know a thing or two about wanting to be appreciated for more than…one talent,” Shinji said, his tone pensive, his expression seeming a world away. “For wanting to become someone on your own terms.”
“Oh?”
But the boy just shook his head.
“Just…some stuff that happened years ago,” he answered, though there was a note in his voice that hinted that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Its…it’s not important. Not really.” He took a deep, shuddering breath as he reached up and rubbed his shoulder – the one where she knew a strange design had been engraved. “Not anymore.”
“I see,” she noted, not wanting to press.
They moved around the room a bit after that, taking refreshments, looking in surprise at the decorations that had been made, and enjoying the musical selections that were being put on.
“Surprising that the students of Durmstrang did all this, without too much magic,” Shinji remarked. “The people of this school impress me, quite a bit.”
“Zey impress me as well,” Fleur admitted. Especially after her excursion. How someone could live like this for years. “Zey are spirited. Comrades.”
“A good word for it, but I guess you’d have to be to survive up here, in this place of old night,” the boy from the east said thoughtfully. “To be willing to put aside grudges and do your part. There’s a lesson here I wish Britain would learn.”
He sighed, glancing at where most of the Hogwarts contingent was huddled, avoiding the students of the other two schools.
“Some know the lesson well, but some…”
“Zit is difficult, when you ‘ave no experience,” Fleur commented. “But zere is a first time for everything.”
“True enough.”
And so things went, with the hours passing until the Ball finally started winding down, with the two of them sitting on one of the settees in the corner, while two of three Commanders of the Host – as well as the Field Marshal and her date – took the floor for a final dance to piano and starlight, moving in time to a melody Fleur had heard before.
Satie’s “Je te Veux,” a slow, sentimental waltz which had been popular perhaps a century ago, and whose lyrics were perhaps somewhat provocative, if she recalled correctly. It was one of her mother’s favorites, one that she would hum as she danced with her father – as Fleur was humming now, watching the couples on the dance floor looking into each other’s eyes.
And then she noticed someone else, someone beyond them, standing at the door to the Great Hall and looking back - at her.
‘…Weasley…’
He caught her gaze and held it as the musicians played on, gold looking into blue.
And despite herself, despite everything she had told herself, she didn’t – couldn’t – look away, nor could she stop humming, or thinking of the lyrics.
How long that moment lasted, she couldn’t have said, but however long it was, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.
When it ended, as it inevitably did, with the final verse of the song, the boy mouthed to her “good night” and with a small, secretive smile, walked through the doors and out of the room.
With his departure, the exhaustion she’d been fending off caught up with her, as it apparently had to Matou, who’d fallen asleep some time while she wasn’t…entirely aware of everything else. How long ago she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been paying attention to him after all.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. And then another, and then another, smiling faintly as she thought to herself that it hadn’t been a bad evening.
Just a tiring one.
And she thought, maybe she’d just close her eyes for a moment before taking her leave.
When she opened them next, she found her head reading on Matou’s thighs, hours later, with the hall seemingly deserted. The sounds of bustling and conversation had gone away, with only the young Champion’s voice filling the air with words in a language she did not recognize. Japanese, she thought it must be, given the land of his birth, though she had no idea what “…Tsutau minasuji, Sono te ga hiraku asu wa” could possibly mean.
Soon enough though, the singing trailed off, with the boy glancing down at her with a wan smile as he noticed she was awake.
“Good morning Fleur,” he murmured, though his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. To her, he seemed kind enough, but weary, as if he’d aged years overnight.
“Bon matin, Matou,” she replied softly. “Zat song…is zat popular in your country?”
Matou Shinji merely sighed and looked away.
“I don’t know,” the boy admitted, with a rueful chuckle. “I’ve never heard anyone else sing it…I don’t even know if it’s a proper song. Or just something I heard somewhere.”
“Oh? But you remember it, still?”
“Yeah. It’s something I sing sometimes, I guess, when I’m lost in thoughts, all alone…”
As Radu Eshkol Mann, the Commander of the Banner of Serpents, stepped into the rather austere office of Headmaster Karkaroff, he reflected that while duty was a harsh mistress, at least when things like documentation and logistics were kept in mind, it had its share of rewards as well.
Knowing that others were able to enjoy an evening due to the efforts of he and his chosen few.
Seeing his colleagues finally – finally – admit that perhaps they felt something for each other, after years of dancing around the topic (with a rivalry that had become all the more powerful for it).
Seeing the flabbergasted faces of villains about to work their mischief, for example, only to be caught in flagrante delicto.
Or in particular case, seeing a Champion try to keep his obvious panic from showing on his face, after learning what his fangirls had been saying about him, and that reporters had taken pictures of him and his companion.
‘Though Miss Parkinson, the Daily Prophet reporter, was kind enough to bring him and his companion a blanket, so I wonder what he fears.’
Perhaps the fact that from a certain angle, with Delacour’s dress having slipped a bit, when taken with a blanket covering them, it almost seemed as if she was wearing nothing under it.
‘Ah, what banner was she again? Raven, that’s right…she seems like someone Andreas would get along with.’
He cleared his throat as he materialized and approached the desk, with the long, drawn face of the Headmaster looking up at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes, Commander?”
“My report, sir,” Radu intoned, withdrawing a scroll from his robes and handing it to the man.
“Excellent, Commander,” Karkaroff said stiffly. “A summary, if you would?”
“Yes, sir. The most notable events of the past evening were two attempts to poison the drinks, several cases of drunk and disorderly conduct from the Hogwarts delegation, and one attempted assassination.”
“…an assassination, Commander?” Karkaroff echoed, scowling as he rolled opened the scroll and scanned it. “…against one of their own, no less. I would be surprised at the depths some are willing to descend to on what should have been a night of peace and celebration, save that I stopped being able to be surprised years ago.”
“A joke, sir?”
“I do not joke, Commander,” the Headmaster noted grimly, a hand twitching towards his left arm for a moment. “Not about matters related to that.”
“Apologies, Headmaster.”
“None necessary, Commander.” Karkaroff waved away his attempt to apologize. “Not after you and yours protected two Champions from an assassination attempt. Might I inquire as to the perpetrator’s choice of technique?”
“The Killing Curse,” the Serpent Lord growled. “Though he did not manage to get it off before he was incapacitated.”
“Yet you do not have him in custody?”
“Given the severity of what he was about to do, I could not risk letting the terrorist complete his spell. Sadly, the Stunning Spell is rather fatal if enough hit someone at once,” Radu explained, without a trace of regret. “Twenty at once essentially guaranteed he would not be getting up again. Ever.”
“Well. Enough wands to stop a dragon certainly would stop a single wizard, yes. Even if he was wearing dragonhide.”
“My thought exactly, sir.”
“You…did not inform Miss Delacour and Mister Matou of their close encounter?” Karkaroff inquired. “That is rather unusual of you.”
“I thought Mister Matou seemed rather distressed enough when I mentioned the press,” Radu noted, allowing a hint of amusement to show. “He did not seem to be in any state to process more…serious news.”
“I see. And what did you have in mind for the official explanation for the death?” the Headmaster asked. “I don’t think the British would enjoy knowing we ended the lives of one of their students.”
“He became inebriated and wandered out into the cold, where he stumbled and eventually, froze to death,” the Serpent Lord replied. "It is as plausible an explanation as any, given much drink some consumed last night."
“Reasonable enough, Commander. Make it so.”
Radu started to go, but paused, as he thought of something.
"Britain will no doubt want an explanation as to how he could have escaped our oversight, sir," he commented wryly. "They may also desire some compensation for the wrongful death of one of their own due to our...lapse."
"Well that's too bad for them, isn't it?" Karkaroff asked quietly, as he turned to look out the window. "After all, we don't negotiate with terrorists."
Choice 186: As he sat down for dinner with Olu Akindele, Ka'aukai Kapule, and Libatius Müller, Shinji thought about what he knew about the group - and realized that it wasn't really much. Not nearly as much as if he was sitting with the Rachelles or with Ayaka and her table. Still, he had a few things he knew about them. He was just uncertain how to break the ice...
[ ] Apologize to Ka'aukai Kapule about the navigation incident once again
[ ] Ask the Brazillian Champion about his book
[ ] Mention that he has a friend who is an animagus
[ ] (write-in)
Last edited by alfheimwanderer; July 24th, 2017 at 01:13 AM.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
Woohoo, thanks for the swift updates, Alf.
On a side note, seems like Shinji had a good reason refusing to sleep among fellow students back in the first year. A pity his time machine only supplies him with next century music themes, not with tactical precognition data.
Choice 186:
[x] Apologize to Ka'aukai Kapule about the navigation incident once again
That seems to be the most natural starter, not as forced as animagi friend or book in the hands of the stranger.
Apologize.
[x] Mention that he has a friend who is an animagus.
We want to engage the most people when sitting at their table.
And it gives us decent ground to discuss personal skills. Especially after we displayed some of ours during the prelims.
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