Selina Skies
January 23, 2020 5:41 AM
Tumbleweed Trip by Selina Skies
The trip into Tumbleweed had been announced once the Quidditch team’s commitment to taking part in the fair had been confirmed. This had been some weeks prior to the event itself, allowing time for permission slips to be owled home. A brief outline of the safety measures that would be taken were included, as well as directions for parents to correspond via owl or Floo if they had any questions. Tumbleweed, as its name suggested, blew about with the wind, never fully staying in one place, thus it was quite impossible for the students to wander beyond the bounds of the town itself. The only ways in and out were via designated travel points. Additionally, the staff would be monitoring the different areas of the town, and students would be required to check in with the staff member in that area before moving onto another part.Over breakfast on the day of the trip, Selina gave a weather report for the town (a pleasant dry day in the high sixties - she defaulted to Farenheit, not aware this wouldn’t be common to everyone) and reminded them to be assembled and ready after lunch. The team was not performing until the afternoon, and going after lunch had been deemed a good way of managing things so that students wouldn’t need to spend money on food, as that wouldn’t necessarily be within everyone’s budget.
They were travelling down in two groups. The school had borrowed a… sort of car. It was car-like on the outside, but its capacity was above average and it drove itself. They were also opening up a Floo connection with a tourist office in the town. Given that the Floo could be disorienting for first time users, they had thought it prudent to offer any Muggleborns who weren’t sure about it a more familiar option - but recognised that wizarding children who were not familiar with cars might easily be alarmed or motion sick. They would all regroup upon arrival, so that people could pair up as they liked. Students were required to spend their time at least in pairs, and the staff would be noting who was with whom. They could swap partners or groups but they would have to inform a staff member.
The very literal ghost town of Tumbleweed had seen something of a shake up for the event. The main area of the town was the most untouched. It comprised a small shopping street which mostly sold tourist tat and which had the ‘saloon’ - a little rowdier at night and in possession of an evening liquor license but mostly a snacks and soda place by day. There were regular displays re-enacting old west life by the many resident ghosts in various venues along the street. Some of it was free to view street theatre, but there were a couple of historical buildings with more elaborate performances and a small museum which charged fees.
At one end of the town, there was a disused sports pitch. On an ordinary day, this was something of a curiosity. Whilst the locals had upheld the Statute of Secrecy, the melting pot culture was evident, with several odd fusion sports having arisen as people looked for new ways to amuse themselves and took influence from the Muggles around them. The ghosts would be providing demonstrations of these throughout the day, though their stadium was barely recognisable - the small town patch of dirt with its shoddy bleachers had been expanded (if not the playing areas itself then certainly the seating around it, and the number of vendors spillng out around it). There were also a couple more smaller pitches to the side, one with a batting range and various other games, and one where visiting teams would be putting on flying demonstrations. It was this smaller arena where the Sonora students would be showing off their skills, and whilst the main arena carried a ticketing charge and the games carried fees, the smaller field was free to enter.
Additionally, the old town hall was running a pop up market to expand the town’s offering in terms of shopping. Around the arena, Quidditch merchandise ruled, but in the hall was a wider range of trinkets - magical sweet stalls, illusions and novelty items. In anticipation of the Sonora students and their upcoming ball, a few clothes vendors had even decided to set up shop.
The students on the Quidditch team had about an hour between arrival and their show, and would have more time after it was complete. The others were encouraged to support their classmates by watching, but would be free to do as they chose.
OOC - welcome to Tumbleweed. We are hosting this on the gardens as we are still working on an ‘out of school’ space. The trip takes place over several hours so your character is certainly free to explore more than one location in that time. There are limits to how badly wrong the staff would let anything go, so if you’re thinking of causing trouble or getting into any, please run it by us. Members of the Quidditch team are free to make up their own details about what the display involves, again keeping it realistic to what the coach would have asked for someone of your character’s skill level.
Subthreads:Main Street
Ice cream! by Mara Morales with Leonor De Matteo, Jessica Hayles
"It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop." [Tag Heinrich] by Evelyn Stones with Heinrich Hexenmeister
Meeting the outlaws (tag Vlad and Tatiana) by Jean-Loup Arceneaux with Tatiana Vorontsova, Vladimir Brockert, Dorian Montoir
Uncle Killian or Mr. Row? by Killian Row
A fun day out (Jasmine) by Peyton O'Malley with Jasmine Delachene
Sports Grounds
Show me your skillz! by Anya Delachene with Freddie Zauberhexen
Meeting the family, part II (tag Professor Brooding) by Jean-Loup Arceneaux with Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
I got nothing to do today but smile by Beau Tate
Town Hall
I'm a fan of your company. [Tag Zara.] by Felipe De Matteo with Zara Jackson
Pre-game with me? [Tag Ness.] by Evelyn Stones
Arrival by Heinrich Hexenmeister
13
Selina Skies
Tumbleweed Trip
26
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
January 26, 2020 8:20 PM
Meeting the outlaws (tag Vlad and Tatiana) by Jean-Loup Arceneaux
Seniors at L’Institut Québécois were permitted off campus on the weekends. And, so long as said seniors made it home by evening, then the details of where they had spent the day really weren’t that important… A Quidditch fair in Tumbleweed would have been a plausible amusement but for the sense of scale and distance - Jean-Loup doubted that the event here was going to be big enough to warrant his interest. So, he had opted to be non-specific about his plans for the day, and then grabbed his passport and a handful of floo powder after lunch.Now he leant against the wall of the saloon, thumbing the pages of the book he was holding but not actually able to concentrate. The short volume of psychological case studies was interesting, and not too heavily written, but it wasn’t enough to hold his attention. Instead, he watched the people swarming by. On the one hand, he felt the pleasant rush of anonymity - the chances of anyone who knew him (besides the one he was waiting for) being here were slim to none. He was just another face amongst the crowd, and of little interest. Not ‘no interest.’ He had noticed one or two witches turning to take a second look at him - a reminder of just how easy it all would have been if he’d just… been like everybody else. Still, wishing that now meant wishing Dorian out of his life. It would have been easier on them both if they weren’t like this, but… well, they were. And now they had each other. He had never believed the idea that it was possible to just make this go away but for the first time, he didn’t think he’d have taken it even if it was an option. It was a lot harder to hate yourself when someone wanted you, just as you were.
Still - still, in spite of the supposed anonymity, still, in spite of the fact that he didn’t want to be anyone different - he felt a little self-conscious. It wasn’t like he and Dorian were going to be walking down the street here holding hands. They were going to have to keep things low key when in sight of other people. But still, here he was, about to meet up with his boyfriend in a crowded, public place. One full of Dorian’s peers and teachers. Perhaps the other visitors would see nothing odd in a pair of teenagers hanging out together, but Dorian’s classmates would pick him out as an outsider. He was sure Dorian was going to face questions about who he was… But they got to see each other. Dorian was willing to deal with those things, and they got to see each other…
And he got to meet The Friends. Or rather, The Friends got to meet him. He straightened the already straight cuffs of his robes. He would have been more comfortable in something Quidditch-appropriate. It was the ostensible reason of his visit, and heck, he might even find time to go hit a few balls in the batting cages or whatever - he wasn’t sure he was going to get to monopolise all of Dorian’s time, though he intended to as far as possible. But Quidditch gear did not look very smart. It wasn’t what you wore to Meet The Parents. And, given that it was going to be approximately eternity before they did that for real, he thought he ought to make the most of the substitute he was being offered. Not that he’d never met Monsieur and Madame Montoir. He had, of course. Just only in the capacity of their daughter’s best friend’s brother. Or… someone else in society. They knew him the way everyone thought they knew everyone else. He hadn’t been round to dinner as the person intending to do corrupt/romance/both one of their children. That was a pretty different ballgame.
He glanced at his watch. Dorian wasn’t late. He was just feeling impatient… But, finally, along the street came a familiar face. Wrapped in a rather unfamiliar green robe, and followed by two others. Perusing the literature about Tumbleweed, the saloon had been mentioned and had seemed a logical enough meeting place, so he knew to look for him there. Jean-Loup watched as Dorian caught sight of him and his face lit up with the most perfect smile. Jean-Loup fought for a second, trying to stop his from doing the same. He had been trying to tell himself they would just act casual. But was there really anything wrong with two people being happy to see each other? It was a bright, sunny day. People were out for a good time. He was allowed to be in a good mood. Dorian pulled ahead a little, so that he got to Jean-Loup ahead of his friends, giving them a second or two to say hello. Not that that could exactly be unrestrained. There was still a whole street full of people. But they could be happy.
“Hey mec,” Jean-Loup grinned. Hey mate. And he threw a casual arm around Dorian, a side hug - the way a couple of friends might greet each other. Though he added more softly, ”The school boy look is very cute.” Before Dorian had time to protest that comment, the friends had caught up, and Dorian switched to introductions instead. The soft smile that had played across Jean-Loup's lips whilst saying hello to his boyfriend was replaced with the neat, regulation one that he wore in the photograph pinned up beside Dorian's bed.
“Pleased to meet you,” Jean-Loup offered, his accent noticeably heavier than Dorian’s and the phrase carrying all the cadence of having been rote learnt but still unfamiliar. He offered them a small, polite bow. “Dorian says much about you,” he added.
13
Jean-Loup Arceneaux
Meeting the outlaws (tag Vlad and Tatiana)
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
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Tatiana Vorontsova
January 26, 2020 10:02 PM
Welcome to the wild west show. by Tatiana Vorontsova
Clothes were not, on the whole, a subject which usually particularly interested Tatiana, so on the whole, she usually did not especially mind her school uniform. At least it was mostly a solid color and thus a decent background for most of her jewels, if too dark for her taste and thus given to dulling down some of her favorites. She really did miss light colors, sometimes, when she looked at her aquamarines or blue topazes and they didn’t look as bright as they should – but on the whole, she didn’t usually especially mind her school uniform.Today, however, was not a usual day. Today involved The Boyfriend. Making an impression. Today, trapped in schoolgirl green, she could have cheerfully wrung the necks of every member of the staff, as she both didn’t know which one of them had decided they had to wear uniforms and also held a grudge against the others for not overruling the offender. This Jean-Loup almost certainly lacked the knowledge to pick up all the information she could have conveyed to others of her own social class at home through clothing alone, but if he was an important enough Quebec-person to know Dorian, he could probably have made some educated guesses.
There were, of course, other ways to get the point across, and she had spent far too much time dithering over whether it would be imposing to wear her best diamonds and sapphires – well, the best of the ones she was allowed to keep with her – or if it would simply be gauche since they were mostly evening pieces. She had tried on almost everything in her jewelry box, all of which had arguments for and against them. The fact that she had agreed to do some fancy flying before she had known about the boyfriend had sent her into a panic for a bit before she had remembered Katya, but that had then added another problem – she could only really bring along pieces she could more or less justify to her sister if she had to, without endangering Dorya’s secrets....
Self-consciousness was not one of Tatiana’s more pronounced flaws, but even she found it difficult to ignore how very over-dressed – or at least, over-adorned – she was for the milieu of the Tumbleweed saloon. However, she refused to acknowledge it as she swept through the doors. Two graduated strands of pearls, nested one in the next, hung below her collar – more appropriate for a semi-formal evening occasion, but oh well – with a largish heart-shaped locket set with a large sapphire ringed in diamonds. She had worn her diamond earrings, and hair had been brushed within an inch of its life and she had re-done her chignon five times to make sure it was perfect. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.
She followed Dorian, and quickly figured out who Jean-Loup was. For one thing, she had seen a photograph. For another thing, she couldn’t imagine many random strangers would just hug Dorian for no reason. She took a second to double-check her posture and approached.
A pair of large, light blue-green eyes, fringed in dark lashes, looked up somberly but not particularly shyly to study him when he was introduced formally. She removed her gloves, revealing thin, flat rings – the most prominent a round opal ringed in sapphires – and extended a hand to him.
“Et toi, Monsieur Arceneaux,” said Tatiana, in her best French. This was colored by a heavy Russian accent; strangely, she thought it clung to other languages even more than it did to her English. She hoped he could understand her in at least one of them. “I am pleased - “ she was more pleased to be able to steal the word from him right now, but nevertheless - “that you come so far. And thank you for cakes. Je m’appelle Tatiana Andreyevna Vorontsova.” Unsure of herself again – strange as it felt – she looked to Dorian for guidance before realizing this was probably rude. “We get drink?” she suggested, trying to turn it into looking back and forth between them. “They have tea here?”
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Tatiana Vorontsova
Welcome to the wild west show.
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
January 30, 2020 5:32 AM
Hope there's no pistols at dawn by Jean-Loup Arceneaux
“You have very pretty jewelleries,” Jean-Loup smiled, following Tatiana’s introduction. Just because he wasn’t particularly interested in currying favour with girls, at least not for the usual reasons, didn’t mean he did not know how, though he’d had to look up that specific vocabulary item in advance of his trip.“You are welcome,” Jean-Loup smiled, when Tatiana thanked him for the cakes. “Ah oui, vous apprenez le français,” he added with an appreciative nod at both her and Vlad, taking care to try and speak slowly and clearly, “Il est un bon prof, non?” he added with a smile in Dorian’s direction.
He merely nodded at the comment of coming a long way, not sure he could express in a succinct enough English sentence that he was happy to in order to see Dorian, and not fully convinced that that level of sentiment was anyone’s business except his boyfriend’s. Not that he was against the idea of being romantic, or enthusiastic about Dorian, it was just still a little strange to think of Them as a subject that could be openly discussed. This was normally the thing he kept secret whenever he was trying to get people to like him.
“I don’t know if most American places serve tea, and I’m not sure I would trust it anyway after what we saw in Charms,” Dorian replied, when Tatya asked about getting a drink, “But yes, let’s have a drink.”
Jean-Loup let this wash over him, slightly stunned by how fast Dorian spoke when he was speaking English - not, he supposed, that it should come as a surprise that Dorian was incredibly competent at it, but he had expected to mostly follow what he was saying. He suspected there might also be some context he was missing because he was sure he’d heard the word ‘Charms’ in there.
They ordered drinks (for which he offered to pay) and made their way over to a booth against the back wall with pairs of padded benches either side of a rectangular wooden table. He and Dorian slid in on one side, and Jean-Loup was surprised to find Dorian’s fingers twining with his under the table. Again, it felt like more than he should be allowed, even if it was being kept out of sight. He kept his regular, social smile on, not giving in to the temptation to glance at Dorian and just dissolve into proper, unguarded happiness even though he wanted to because his guy was here, his guy was here, his guy was here . Still, he squeezed the hand that was clasped in his, waiting for the interrogation to begin.
13
Jean-Loup Arceneaux
Hope there's no pistols at dawn
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
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Tatiana Vorontsova
January 30, 2020 4:53 PM
I hope this also. by Tatiana Vorontsova
“Merci beaucoup,” said Tatiana when her jewelry was complimented. “J’aime mes bijoux. Tu as...” she scrambled for something. “Visage joli.”Which was about the least substantial thing she could possibly say about him, but it was an observable fact. If he hadn’t been Dorian’s boyfriend, she would not have minded dancing with him herself, especially since he was someone who had the good sense to dislike Matthieu Montoir and the authority to do something about it.
“Tres bon,” agreed Tatiana when he credited Dorian for her and Vlad’s ability to understand some French. Tatiana’s tutors had tried to teach her some French, but Dorian had probably done a better job – or at least, been a better motivation for learning. “Je suis la professeur aussi – Dorya et Vladya con...connasent langue russe maintenant,” she added proudly, extending that pride into a smile at her two friends.
Tatiana chuckled, too, further betraying that she was not so solemn as she initially looked, when Dorian reminded her of the Charms incident. “This true,” she said. “Amerikantsi ne znayut chaya.” Professor Wright’s version of tea-making had been particularly painful, but the tea she had had in the dining hall also fell somewhat under her usual standard. She preferred having tea with Dorian out of his stash instead, when she could.
Instead, though, since they were in a public dining house (a very strange new experience for her; somehow, she doubted this was anything like the Restoran Gavana in St. Petersburg where her parents had met), they got other drinks and found a corner. Tatiana took a sip of her strange fizzy drink and contemplated her angle of attack.
“So,” she said. “We meet you. What you do?” She snapped her fingers to herself in a bit of frustration. “I know you go school Quebecois,” she said. “But I say...what you do...that you like? What class you take? How you know Dorya?”
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Tatiana Vorontsova
I hope this also.
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
January 30, 2020 8:43 PM
How about stories instead? by Jean-Loup Arceneaux
“Thank you,” Jean-Loup smiled - he managed to smile and not laugh - as Tatiana told him he had a pretty face. Compliments in other languages were hard - everything in other languages was hard - and he appreciated the intent to be friendly. Also, he was aware she wasn’t wrong…“Yes. I have heard him speak this,” he nodded, when she mentioned that she had been teaching them Russian. “You all learn very good.”
They settled in, and Tatiana wasted no time in directly attempting to establish what manner of person he was. He found the snapping fingers a little imperious, though it seemed more like she was trying to jog her own memory.
“I have most classes still. Dorian tells you I want to be the healer, yes?” he confirmed, “So, I must do many class. And also we have English class because they want that we are… bien équilibrée?”
“Have… good balance?” Dorian suggested. “Not literal. Be like… someone with many types of skill.” He was sure there was a more succinct way of putting that, and glanced to Vlad to offer any single word that was available for that purpose because he certainly couldn’t call it to mind.
Jean-Loup nodded, feeling like there was clearly still some way to go in his case, though not quite sure how to venture that joke in English. He wondered whether it really was believable that he’d spent a number of years studying English. He’d never been the most proficient in that class, though he hadn’t been bottom either, and had recently redoubled his efforts. Dorian seemed to believe in this world where there was a whole life for them, and it was pretty clear that was very much outside their little bubble in Québec.
“I meet Dorian the first time at Matthieu’s birthday party,” he began. He was normally quite good at telling a story, or at least in engaging other people, but he felt like he was slow and clumsy in English, and wasn’t sure he would do this justice. “We are both outside. Away from the others. Nous semblons avoir l'habitude de nous faufiler lors des fêtes,” he added to Dorian. “You can say in English?” he asked, wanting to make it clear he wasn’t trying to exclude the others from the conversation.
“We are getting a habit of… doing this, going away from the group at parties,” Dorian smiled. “And I remember you very casually discovering whether I have a girlfriend,” he added. “You were… researching me, even then?” he queried.
“Maaaybe,” Jean-Loup answered, trying to hide his smile behind his coffee cup. Except he couldn’t quite resist the summoning charm that seemed to want to pull him into the person beside him. He was aware there were four people at the table, and he was supposed to be on best behaviour but it was impossible not to feel like there was only one other person in the whole room and to give in to looking at him and letting the fake smile slip in favour of one that reached right into his eyes. Especially when the look he knew he was giving into was mirrored right back at him, and he had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky. He forced his attention back to the friends, though his face was still softened with its genuine smile, and the air of happy intimacy still hung between him and Dorian.
“Do I answer all?” he checked with Tatiana, aware she had asked several questions and that his replies were rather on the brief side.
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
How about stories instead?
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
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Tatiana Vorontsova
January 31, 2020 9:28 AM
Once we establish some ground rules. by Tatiana Vorontsova
“Very good,” said Tatiana solemnly when Dorian explained that his boyfriend was supposed to be a person with many skills. “I also take many class,” she added, wanting to establish that she was smart, too. “I do not become Healer,” she admitted, “but I take many class.”She didn’t know why she was making a point of establishing that she was smart. She and Jean-Loup were not, after all, exactly in competition for anything. His English was no better than hers, really. Dorian had given no indication that he wished to forsake her company entirely for Jean-Loup’s. Dorian knew her capabilities perfectly well. It just seemed impossible to stop herself somehow.
“Yes, you answer,” she said. “It is good to go to party, and not talk with Matthieu. Matthieu is no good.” She said this almost imperiously, as though pronouncing sentence. “When I meet him, I want to kick. You do better thing with him,” she admitted. She racked her brain for things to say. “So. You wish to be our friend, or just that I not kick you?” she asked, deciding this was the simplest way to figure out where they stood and where they were going to stand and therefore how to figure out what she ought to say or not say next.
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Tatiana Vorontsova
Once we establish some ground rules.
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Vladimir Brockert
January 31, 2020 6:41 PM
Yes, rules are good. by Vladimir Brockert
Vlad tossed and turned all of the night before the Tumbleweed outing. Nervous wasn’t quite the right word, but he was hesitant for the day ahead. He kept staring at the picture of Jean-Loup more and more and more - a little more each day until it no longer felt polite. Vladimir could not decide what it was that he felt when he looked at the picture - when he thought about Dorian and this boy - but it made his stomach do unhappy flips. So meeting him in person was not exactly high on his list.But he was doing it anyway, because it was important to Dorian and because he had no reasonable excuse not to hang out with his two best friends while they were out. He could’ve gone to hang out with Peyton or Ivy, but he saw them all the time outside of school too, so it wouldn’t have made sense for him to turn down the opportunity for that. He was trapped, like the Teppenpaw he was, in the ever-binding contract of social rules. Darn it all.
Then it happened. There he was, standing there: the boy from the photograph. Vlad’s stomach dropped at the sight of him. Maybe he had almost hoped they would be stood up, but here he was, in the flesh and real. And from the very first moment, Vlad felt something new in his chest, something hot. He hated him.
Tatiana gave a formal non-English introduction, but he just tossed in a casual, “Vlad.” to introduce himself. The youngest wizard followed the group to get their drinks (which he did not let Jean-Loup buy for him, thank you very much) and listened, not contributing much. His French was pretty rough, but he could get pieces here and there. Tatiana said something that seemed complementary to Jean-Loup, and all Vlad could think was Traitor. The options she now laid out - to be friends or not be kicked - were probably in jest, but Vlad wanted neither. He kinda wanted to kick.
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Vladimir Brockert
Yes, rules are good.
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Dorian Montoir
February 01, 2020 4:37 AM
How about 'No kicking?' by Dorian Montoir
Dorian felt the steady, comforting presence of Jean-Loup’s hand in his under the table, and he wasn’t sure the last time he’d felt this happy. Possibly never? He had been super nervous that morning, and a little of it still lingered. Partly, it had just felt strange to think he’d be seeing his boyfriend that day, and after so long apart it just felt like it might feel awkward. Especially as they had an audience. Both the fact that there were going to be people around and they were going to lack privacy but also the very specific audience of his friends. Who were going to meet his boyfriend. He couldn’t see any reasons why they wouldn’t get on - they all got on with him, so hopefully that was enough to make them all like each other - but it mattered so very much that they did.But then… then it had all started happening for real, and it had been so much less awful than the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach had warned him it would be. As it so often was. That feeling, he was starting to really believe, lied. It didn’t feel awkward to fall in by his boyfriend’s side again. It felt right. They slotted back together as easily as if they’d never been apart. And, so far, everyone was getting along.
He didn’t really notice that Vlad was quiet. There were two main reasons for this. Firstly, Vlad was quiet sometimes. He had precisely two modes - chattering out every thought in his head in an excited turmoil, and sitting very quietly. The latter mode tended to be reserved more for when they were practising languages, or getting really into some conversation about theory or poetry. Vlad didn’t participate as much in those in types of conversations. So, it wasn’t in and of itself an unusual behaviour that he was just sitting back. If he had been thinking about it, Dorian might have thought it odd that he wasn’t joining in now they were having a light-weight discussion in English, but that came neatly round to reason number two why he had not given this much thought. Jean-Loup was here. And, as a result, he wasn’t particularly noticing or paying attention to Vlad. His eyes kept swivelling left of their own volition, just wanting to drink in the sight of the boy next to him. He kept saying he’d keep his attention on the group, but it was like, as soon as his eyes were off him, his brain was convinced he’d forgotten some important detail, or stopped believing he could really be there and be as thoroughly gorgeous as he was, and he just had to check. And smile. And he could see Jean-Loup fighting not to do the same with him and whenever their eyes did meet they both just dissolved into being the two happiest people in the whole world.
And then Tatya mentioned kicking.
“Hey,” Dorian protested, laying his free hand gently on Jean-Loup’s arm, “No kicking. Why would there be kicking?” he asked, deeply confused. Tatya had been mentioning Matthieu, and the desire to kick him, all of which was perfectly logical, if - in his mind - objectionable. But Jean-Loup was clearly nothing like that, and there was no reason for anyone here to want to kick him.
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Dorian Montoir
How about 'No kicking?'
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Tatiana Vorontsova
February 01, 2020 3:53 PM
I kind of assumed that one. by Tatiana Vorontsova
Dorian, Tatiana noted with disapproval, had clearly been Elsewhere in his mind. If he had been paying attention, he would not have misunderstood the question she had directed toward Jean-Loup. It was, she thought now, almost surely for the best that Jean-Loup went to school far away, because if Dorian was always like this, Tatiana would be in danger of becoming very cross with him indeed.“No, no, no,” she said. “I do not kick Jean-Loup. I think he does not want me to kick him,” she added dryly, as this was usually a safe thing to assume about people from every culture and school and country. Perhaps there were people who liked being kicked, but they were, as far as she could tell, few and far between. “What I ask is – does he wish to be our friend – “ she included Vladya, who seemed unusually quiet to her somehow, in her sweeping hand gesture – “or only that I not kick him?”
She grimaced apologetically at her friend. “You know I am no good at be proper,” she said. “I do proper like Amerikantsi do tea. Bad, bad, bad! So I just ask.” She looked at Jean-Loup again. “You know how to make good tea?” she asked, though even through her accent and grammar, she imagined it was easy enough to hear that she took the answer to this question as a given. Surely Dorian could not be this cloud-headed over someone who was incapable of making a nice cup of tea. That was just a baseline standard for participation in a civilized society, as far as Dorian was concerned, and Tatiana couldn’t say she entirely disagreed – rich and poor alike could do it. It was as essential as knowing how to tie shoelaces or how to do up buttons.
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Tatiana Vorontsova
I kind of assumed that one.
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
February 01, 2020 8:40 PM
We would have liked to by Jean-Loup Arceneaux
Jean-Loup rather agreed with Dorian. Whilst it was specifically the absence of kicking that had been mentioned, that rather implied that not being kicked was a privilege that was currently being extended to him, and which could be withdrawn. Not being beaten up was a pretty low bar to set as far as interactions went, and he had to wonder whether Dorian’s friends were substantially less okay with this whole situation than either they or Dorian had revealed up until now. Or rather, perhaps the degree to which they were willing to forgive Dorian for dating another boy was far higher, as their friend, than the degree to which they were willing to forgive the same trait in the boy doing the dating. Admittedly, being grudgingly tolerated was more than he had expected from most people, and the not being kicked had been one end of a continuum which also allegedly included friendship, but Jean-Loup was not going to count any dragons before they’d hatched.Especially as Tatiana was talking very rapidly about not being proper and things being bad, bad, bad… And he thought she’d referred to herself there, and to something that sounded like Americans, but she had simultaneously sped up and got substantially less grammatical, and he had already been feeling a little lost, to the extent that he definitely did not trust his own judgement as to what was going on right now.
“Thé?” he asked, slipping into his own language automatically as he tried to clarify the direct question that had been put to him, and feeling slightly muddled. “Elle demande si je peux faire du thé, non?” he checked with Dorian, because he felt like it was important that he answered the friends’ questions correctly, and in order to do that, it was rather essential that he knew what they were.
“Dorian is more good than me,” he replied, reverting to answering the literal question because the subtextual one was lost between trying to process languages and not worry about the fact that she might want to kick him.
“And I think probably it is your choice about whether I am a friend or just… tolérer?” he suggested, addressing the last word to Dorian.
“Tolerated,” Dorian supplied, giving Tatya a slightly confused look. She had been all enthusiasm about him being happy, and about getting to meet Jean-Loup. And it had seemed to start out so well. He wasn’t sure why she was suddenly being quite so grumpy and demanding with him, or why she was saying that being merely tolerated was the best he might be able to hope for.
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
We would have liked to
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
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Vladimir Brockert
February 02, 2020 1:40 PM
Hey now, let's not be so rash. by Vladimir Brockert
Weirdly, everything shifted. It seemed less jovial (and Tatiana seemed less traitorous) as something changed. Rather abruptly, too, it seemed. Tatiana’s probably-a-joke was not received as such, and Dorian got kind of defensive. That was probably Jean-Loup’s fault, he figured. Sapping Dorian of a sense of humor. Or maybe Dorian just hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy getting lost in Jean-Loup’s stupid eyes, or whatever couples did. Admittedly, Vlad didn’t really know. He had no experience, and Dorian was the first in their little group to bring someone around like this.So Tatiana backpedaled, because she was good. The language barrier was probably a difficulty here, but he thought the three of them had all gotten pretty good at understanding each other. Between their hodgepodge language mess, they could communicate. Jean-Loup was not a part of that, and he complicated things and made Tatya feel bad.
One thing Jean-Loup and Vladimir did agree on was this: it was their choice whether or not they were going to be his friend. Personally, Vlad didn’t really want to be. He wanted Jean-Loup to go away, and they could all pretend this had never happened. Then Dorian would be Dorian again. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” he offered flatly, breaking his own silence for the first time since his introduction. But then he felt bad - he didn’t want to hurt Dorian’s feelings or make this worse for him - so he forced a smile. “Don’t worry,” he added, looking at Jean-Loup but meaning to address Dorian. “I have a feeling it’ll all be just fine.”
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Vladimir Brockert
Hey now, let's not be so rash.
1400
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Tatiana Vorontsova
February 03, 2020 10:24 AM
Definitely do not want rashes. by Tatiana Vorontsova
Something had gone wrong. She had still not managed to communicate what she meant, which was always frustrating – and which seemed to have hurt her dearest friend a little. She wanted to cover her face with her hands to shut out the confusion and give herself a moment to regroup and try to recover, but that would make her look like a crazy person.When she was eleven and had first met her friends, she thought, she would not have noticed if she looked like a crazy person, or at least she wouldn’t have been concerned about it. Things had been so much easier back then, she thought grumpily – grumpy with the world, that was. Why had things had to become so complicated? She wanted to go back, start over – but that wasn’t possible.
She shot Vlad a look of pure gratitude when she thought he had started parsing for her. “Spasibo, Vladya,” she said, and smiled at Jean-Loup, flushing slightly. “Yes! As Vladya says – all will be good. I do not speak clearly. I am sorry. I mean – I ask you many question. I do not know if this make you…non-happy.” She was speaking slowly to make herself more comprehensible, which made it slightly harder to pick her words properly and put them in the right orders, but she hoped she was getting the point across. “If you do not wish to be our friend, only Dorya-friend, then I need not know things – then I say, okay, if you are nice to Dorya, then is okay. But I say it all wrong.”
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Tatiana Vorontsova
Definitely do not want rashes.
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
February 03, 2020 7:35 PM
I promise I do not bring rashes by Jean-Loup Arceneaux
Dorian was somewhat unnerved by Vlad’s flat ‘we’ll have to wait and see.’ It wasn’t like Vlad to be anything but enthusiastic, and Dorian was concerned as to how and why all these people he cared about so much were somehow managing to rub each other up the wrong way. He couldn’t have that. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand it if people he loved didn’t like each other, and didn’t get on. Luckily, Vlad seemed to shake that off with a smile, the tone had just been some kind of… accident, or paranoia on Dorian’s part. Vlad was being his warm, friendly self again, and Dorian shot him a beaming smile of gratitude. Jean-Loup also gave him a small smile. He’d been unsure what to make of the other boy’s silence. On the one hand, quiet people were, allegedly, a thing. He had never met many of them, but silence did not have to mean hostility. He had had a creeping feeling that another boy was going to be less comfortable with this whole situation, and it had been easy to let that fear increase as Vlad sat there in silence. Again, the fact that he’d been willing to come to the table had been more than Jean-Loup had expected and he had been willing to take a lack of overt hostility as a win there. Still, it was nice to be met with something more than that.The other friend also seemed to be friendlier than he’d interpreted. It seemed she wanted to know how much they should try getting to know each other. Slowly, the pieces came together. Or, parts of them did. He was trying to recall details in a language that wasn’t his own, and which he wasn’t sure he’d grasped correctly. It was like piecing together a picture from broken fragments with some missing - you could guess at the whole, but where the cracks ran through it or you’d lost a little sliver, you were only guessing. She might have been talking about herself not being proper, as he had thought. She was asking directly whether they would bother getting to know each other, and that was not how it was usually done? That made sense, but it was one interpretation of the half-remembered, half-understood remarks.
“Sorry. I also understand badly,” he apologised, sure some of the fault must be on him. “Questions are not bad. You can ask me things,” he shrugged. She had seemed to consider that this might somehow bother him, but it did not, and he was happy to be the subject of the discussion. He hesitated, considering the tentative offer of friendship that had been placed on the table, reviewing the conversation and wondering where the balance lay between being inspected and being treated as someone to be known in his own right. He supposed, if they were making friends here, he was entitled to ask things back. Was, perhaps, expected to. And she had also talked about her own school subjects, which he had not followed up on... “Or… I should ask you now?” he ventured tentatively, finding he was still unsure what ground exactly he was on here, and wanting to apologise and clarify and not confident that his English could manage it. He rattled off a few sentences to Dorian, which the latter translated.
“He says he did not mean to ignore getting to know you in return. He says that focusing on English too much makes him forget manners. And also just… he expected that you wanted to evaluate him. That you would both be the one in control here.”
“Ah. This is why you ask about tea?” Jean-Loup added, realisation catching up with him, and still edging more towards the idea that this was an inspection than anything else. “I am learning tea,” he assured her. “So, I can make well for him. I will look after him properly. You both prefer tea?” he asked, feeling it was a little bit of a lame question in return, but trying to reciprocate. “Or, he teaches you this with languages?”
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
I promise I do not bring rashes
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Jean-Loup Arceneaux
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5
