You may be a sinner but your innocence is mine [Nikola]

His face was given a momentary reprieve from the crisp western wind, as he walked around the side of the tavern to get to the entrance. His month growth of facial hair did little to protect his face from the biting blistering cold. He was unfazed, for a little bad weather rarely kept him from his weekend excursions to the local drinking hole. Yet since coming back from the holidays his outings now started a lot earlier and bled well over to the next day. Although it had made Mondays miserable, at least his thoughts were squelched for a bit and he was not tortured by dreams of her.

The swordsman pushed open the first door and was greeted with slightly warmer air and a small group of cloaks, furs and scarfs hanging along the wall. Carelessly stripping himself of his own layers, before the wizard flicked his wand, so they piled themselves on a hook as he continued through the second door. It was unlike the wizard to head in, without taking in the room fully, but he had been slightly out of sorts as of late and so did not spare much more than a quick glance about as he headed straight to the bar.

As the bartender glanced up at the sound of his entrance the scruffy faced Professor ordered his usual. Yet something about the way the bartender looked at him seemed odd. Was it surprise? No. Maybe he had something to tell me. Artur thought, yet the bartender went to work without sharing, so Artur figured whatever was the news would likely be spilled while his glass was being poured. So instead of asking, the wizard grabbed his preferred chair. The one that offered the more strategic position in the room and busied himself with taking off his gloves.

Suddenly not one but two glasses and a whole bottle was dropped down in front of him. He wasn't going to argue about being given the bottle. Certainly, it would not be any trouble for him to make his way through the majority of it tonight, but the reason for the second empty glass was a mystery. Artur just needed to look up acquisitively to que the other wizard response of "A young lady would like to see you in her room," as he nodded to the stairs.

Even though Durmstrang had not been in Sweden for long, the Professor had already had his share of rendezvous at the tavern-inn. So many that the bartender already knew what to expect. Still Artur was not expecting to meet anyone tonight, and the last meeting he had to 'clear his mind' had the opposite effect. Yet maybe he should take another go. So he tentatively asked, "Who is the young lady?"

"Slim brunette, pale skin, eyes that remind one of the..."

Yet what exactly did the young lady's eyes remind the bartender's eyes of would remain a mystery for Artur interrupted by saying, "Tell her that I couldn't stay". Artur stood up grabbed the bottle and started to head to the door as he argued with himself. No, I can't deal with a brunette right now. Maybe a blonde or redhead but a brunette would remind me to much of her. I just need to...

His thoughts and his body halted, for that was when he saw her.

@Nikola Meer

Two months. Well, nearly. The last time she’d heard from him had been that night, in Neroli. She’d woken up the next morning and he was gone. No note, no explanation. Under any other circumstances that would have been what she desired from her lovers. Once and done. No need for explanations. But this wasn’t just any man. This was her friend. Her former Mentor, who had finally after so long acknowledged that the only thing that stood between their skill levels now was experience. Both had clearly wanted what they’d gotten that night, and Nikola expected that nothing would change. After all, lovers could also be friends, and if it wasn’t something they desired to repeat, they didn’t have to. And yet something had changed. At least for him.

She’d written him a few weeks later, surprised that she hadn’t heard from him. Lately they’d been spending so much time together that two weeks felt like an eternity. But she didn’t want to appear like she was pining after him. She wasn’t. The dark haired german woman simply missed the company of one of her closest friends. So instead she busied herself with her next projects. Though she found herself pushing aside the feather and lace for a completely new design scheme for whatever she was building the next collection for. Rogue, she was calling it, drawing inspiration from highwaymen, assassins, and a bit of a pirate flair. It brought a smile to her lips to sketch out designs.

But Artur had not responded, not to that letter, or the three she’d sent afterwards, interspersed over the end of january and beginning of february. That was when the sickening feeling had become too much to ignore. There was one issue from her past that Nikola struggled with more than any other. That sense of Abandonment, of someone stepping out of her life without so much as a goodbye. Like her mother, Like Dieter.but Artur wouldn’t do that to her… he knew. He knew how much that would hurt her, how badly the last time she lost someone that way. And yet, still nothing.

Not this time. She wasn’t about to let it happen again. And she knew where he liked to drink. He was avoiding her. But they were both adults, and right now only one of them, the younger of the two of them, were acting like one. So she’d put on her coat and made the trek out to sweden. The first time, she’d figured out where he drank, but didn’t interrupt him. He was there with some blonde. Her reconnaissance however told her that he was there nearly every weekend as of late. So the next weekend, she was ready.

She’d paid the bartender in advance for a room upstairs, but realized fairly quickly that there was a chance that Artur might turn down the offer. So instead, she’d left, watching for him to return, coming in slowly after him. Enough time to hear the conversation with the bartender, her coat draped over one arm, most of the men in here looking at her with either interest, or those who recognised those piercing Meer eyes, and the german features; fear. But there was only one man who needed to be afraid of her right now.

In sweedish, words she’d taken the time to learn, Nikola simply stated “5 galleons to everyone who decides they need some fresh air, or a smoke...” her voice wasn’t cold, but stern, as though questioning her would not go over well. And of course the promise of free money was enough to clear the bar, each man having to file past her to the door she’d placed herself a few feet in front of, so Artur couldn’t simply book it. The bartender made some excuse about having to do something in the back, and left. The two now alone in the deserted room. Leaving her free to speak openly.

“You have been avoiding me.”

@Artur Nikitin