Keeping on your toes[Nikola]

The Durmstrang Professor had to take a pre schedule port key to get to his star pupils house, for now that the North Sea separated them it made apparating out of the question. Still he did not mind, even if it caused him to be half an hour early. It would only mean extra bountiful time with her and he needed a longer practice for there was so few others he could spar with that kept him on his toes. Sadly, their once weekly sessions had petered out to a trickle of once a month, since the fashion design thing took off and she now was compelled to traveling quite a bit to meet it’s needs.

Walking up to the door Ludolf’s happy yips signaled his arrival and as a result the tall wizard did not need to knock on the door. Instead she opened it the moment he stepped on to the landing and immediately broke into a smile. They proceed with the typical greetings, exchange kissed cheeks before she explaining she is just finishing up with a client and she would be right down. In return he had made his excuses for being early, before slipped strait through her entry and stepped behind the door that led the basement. Only sneaking a bit of a peek at the elderly lady examining her 'zad's' reflection in the five floating mirrors. She looked a bit to 'samodovol'nyy' for Artur's taste but he was not her for tail instead he wanted to get his muscles sore.

Ludolf followed him downstairs, into the padded long practice room under the house which was bathed in light form lamps by already lit by the house elves. The vibrating pup patiently waited for the Ukrainian wizard to put down his long bundle on the table on the far end of the room before finally digging in his pocket for the Jerky he brought. After only a quick run through of tricks, the pup gave a  small impatient bark, so he gave the treat to the eye-patched crup before he disturbed Nikola and her'samodovol'nyy' client.

Ludolk went to his typical joyful zipping around the room, yearning for Artur to play keep away with him. Unfortunately the Swordsman came here to practice. He took of his coat, and started to stretch his arms looking akin to a male bird performing a mating dance, before finally including some lunges and deep knee bends. Only after he loosened up the mussels did he bother to unwrap his bundle. A layer of cloth separated fives swords and another three daggers. He slipped two swords of varying length on his belt before unsheathing the third and was just practicing some stances when his practice partner entered the room.

@Nikola Meer

The knock on her door wasn’t unexpected. Anymore, her mentor was either a little early, or a little late, depending on the portkey schedules from sweden. Their decision to move the school to sweden was a disappointing one, though completely understandable after what Russia had done to her proud Durmstrang. “If you’ll excuse me one moment, Madame Berger, that would be my instructor.” she did not say for what as she left the woman to continue admiring the way the dress accentuated her ample posterior in the way she wanted. Nikola couldn’t understand why someone would want a dress that made their backside larger, particularly when one had so much to work with already, but Grandmother’s friend seemed pleased.

She scratched at her crup’s head as she opened the door, wearing a knee length pencil skirt and black dragonhide vest over top a jewel toned turquoise blouse. Nikola didn’t often bother dressing up unless it was someone important, though the definition of important was rather skewed in Nikola’s head. Usually for people who would talk to her grandparents, or Erika. The last thing nikola needed was her grandmother lecturing her about dressing like a proper young woman rather then an eclectic and eccentric artist who just rolled out of bed. She was sure to hear about it from the interview she’d done a week prior. The man outside her door would know exactly what that outfit meant.

But Artur was one of the few people that Nikola ever let her guard down around, relief on her face showing clearly as she greeted him with a smile and a hushed whisper in russian “Thank Merlin you’re here. I’ll be down as soon as i’m done strangling her with french lace…” she smiled softly as he slipped past her, the little dog following behind him, mercifully, since the woman was terrified of anything with claws and teeth near her expensive garb. Nikola took a private moment to roll her eyes. Perhaps she could miraculously become too busy to take another commission from this woman any time soon. But it was nearly over.

Stepping back into the room with her client, the dark haired German woman let out an inward groan as the woman immediately began pressing her for details. “No Claudia. I don’t have a secret boyfriend. He’s the Durmstrang swordsmanship professor, and a wonderful mentor. He’s here to keep both our skills sharp.” damn it all, now grandmother was going to be demanding information while her grandfather looked on with mild amusement and did nothing to save her next time she saw them. “We need only make a few more minor adjustments to the seams, sitting stretches fabric in ways that standing does not.”  again she thanked the stars that she was a witch, and could make those quite easily. The woman giggled delightedly, and Nikola helped her out of the dress, before packing it away neatly in one of her pearl colored boxes with an amethyst bow, handing it to the woman once she was re-dressed.

Blissfully, the woman was eager to depart, no doubt to rush home and admire her latest purchase, and Nikola took the steps to her room two at a time, half undressed by the time she got up there. Leaving her current attire in a heap, she pulled on her black leggings, and a black top with long sleeves, loose enough to not restrict her movements, but not so loose they’d get caught, or dangle. In the summer, she opted for form fitting tank tops, but even in her house, Nikola was too cold for that in the winter months. She did her stretching upstairs, before walking down the steps, across her livingroom and to the stairs leading down into her basement.

Artur was doing exactly what she expected to find him doing, practicing his stances in preparation for their bout. The sparing room here had been set up for her own personal training, as well as a safe location far away from the rest of the meers that other family members could use if need be to extract information. Though she was never privy to that, nor did she want to be. And they always left it perfectly clean and spotless when they were done. And they always had the good sense to respect her wishes and not kill anyone in her home. The smooth stone walls of the foundation framed the hardwood floor, though that was only about a three foot border around the edge, with the center being padded for exercise and swordplay.  “I’m sorry I had to reschedule last week. This time of year is hell for me.” she offered up in way of apology as she took her own weapons to her belt, removing them from their sheaths only to apply the spells that would not allow them to touch flesh, though it would be a jarring sensation for the victim when they came close. “How is Sweden?”

His blade arched through the air as if he was addressing multiple foes from all directions. From the corner of his eye he caught the slim black form he was waiting for. He finished his movements as if stabbing an invisible man and then straightened. Giving her a smile, before rechecking the straightness and edge of his blade.

“No problem,” Artur dismissed her apologies in Russian, while mirroring her actions on his blade. He then switched over to German. “It is the price of being successful.” 

He was quite proud of her and a tiny bit jealous of her clients. For the cost of her success had been their practice time, but he made an effort to never allude to any petulance over the issue. It was few years back, when she told him of her first orders and she might try becoming a designer professionally. At the time he was dubious. He did not think fashion could be profitable, and instead worried that someone would take advantage of his young Durmstrang graduate. (Although if she would be near a sword, he knew she could likely take their head off for trying.) But in the end, he had supported her. The Professor even hired her for a coat and formal robe. They took for ages, and she look like she had not slept in a week, when she presented them to him, strange sigils and all.  Yet they proved to be the finest thing he ever owned. Oh and the pockets….. you could hide an armory in the pockets. Shedevr… quite a Masterpiece.

Once he was finished setting the spell on both sides of the blade, he tested the sword in his arm angling it as if to shave his arm-hair.  It slid a1/4 inch over his arm leaving every hair intact.  “I assume the Witch is dead?” He said jokingly, while making sure they will not be interrupted.

He tossed the sword back and forth from one hand to the other, trying to decide which arm to work out first. He added some more swings on each side finding his left shoulder to be a bit tight. His left side  needed it more he decided; which was usually the case. For he tends to practice more often with his right in demonstrations for his students.

He took the typical a left handed starting position and held for a second. Bouncing slightly on his toes randomly to give off false tells, before saying “Sweden is F***ing cold.” While lunging forward in a quite aggressive move.  The sound of metal hitting reverberated in the narrow room. It would have surprised or pained most ears. He then blocked hers and followed by a counter and then another jab, block and counter before retreating and resetting. He took a second to study her for any clues. He could feel something was off. She seemed to be going through the motions. Although she technically parried everything, she should have had added something more colorful.

“So, where did your fashion take you last week?”

Nikola laughed as he asked her about the witch she’d threatened to strangle earlier. “Oh, no. Sadly I thought the french lace would give out before i could squeeze tight enough to get through the fat around her neck. So i took her money for the dress and sent her on her way.” she sounded serious, but there was that delightful little smirk of amusement on her lips as they continued the joke from earlier. “Of course I should have killed her and saved me the trouble she’s going to cause…. She’s a friend of my grandmothers and the more I insisted you were just my swordsmanship instructor, the more she became convinced that the sword I spoke of was flesh and not steel. I suspect I’m in for a severe interrogation next time I go home for dinner. Some people are so desperate for Drama….” she rolled her eyes as she finished spelling her weapons and tested them out, before stepping into her usual stance.

He replied to her question while lunging at her aggressively, which she easily blocked with her own blade, before sidestepping the next one and taking the opportunity to go for a quick jab with her offhand. The two usually started slow, and it took a while for them to settle into things, though their sparing was often filled with idle chatter and playful banter. There seemed to be less of the latter from Nikola today however. “Why do you think I have not been to visit yet? Hmm?” she teased a little, when he mentioned how bitterly cold it was as the two took some steps back from eachother, long enough for a breath.

It was Nikola that moved first this time, coming in with her off hand, using her main sword to parry the attack she knew would come from him, dancing around him with a little of her usual flair, though more precise and exact then she was known for, watching Nikola fight was usually a graceful dance. “England. A new years party dress for some woman spending all her husband’s money on rich clothes.” she gave a light eyeroll at that, but it did not distract her from his next attack, parrying with skill, if only skill.  “But I met a delightful woman.” Artur was one of the few people who knew about her proclivities. “She taught me wonderful things about indian cuisine over dinner. And was the shiest little flirt, though her cheeks turned several lovely shades of red when I offered to show her my dagger.” again they had stepped back, and Nikola waited for him to come in for the attack, trading off as they usually did.

Light on her feet, Nikola was most skilled at evading and parrying blows, though she had improved by leaps and bounds when it came to her offensive abilities as well. “And then she asked me to help her find a dress for her date with some boring office worker from her job.” she punctuated that crushing defeat with a hard, but short offensive flury, stepping back once more. “Though I was rather naughty and stole a kiss before we parted ways.” the hint of a smirk was back on her lips as she easily fell back into her stance.

Artur had first laughed whole heartily at Nikola's joke. He was so happy she was not turning into one of the prissy witches she catered to. It was bound to happen with any pureblood with a decent pile of Galleons to their name. But for now Nikola was still the Nikola he knew when she was his student. Just a little older, a little wiser and a lot more deadlier. When she continued her story, he was expecting to be just as entertained, but his face froze mid laugh as he understood the women's double entendre. Concern, anger, and frustration flashed in the Durmstrang Professor's eyes, but he tried to seem unphased. He knew this was how it likely already looked. A Professor eagerly running to one of his graduated female student's house every weekend. His own promiscuous reputation likely added fuel to the roomers. Still he was not about to let one tittering 'samodovol'nyy client ruin his practice time with his favorite student. 

After taking a breath it was her turn to move. Artur pulled out a short dagger to parry her off hand while his main sword found hers. "I don't blame you for not visiting." He said jokingly. "I nearly freeze my myachi off every morning just walking to the great hall for breakfast." She spun around him, her moves usually as fluent as a stream, yet today she splashed a little more than normal. He tested her abilities during a distraction, by waiting for her to go into her next description of a client before he attacked. This time her back was turned, but his little Perovskia knew it was coming and parried it as she came out of her spin.

"Oh, a delightful woman? Do tell." A devilishly knowing smile appeared on Artur's face. He had known of her bicuriosity for years. He had caught her glance discreetly at other female students during her last years at Durmstrang. It was quite easy for him to talk openingly about her female love interests then any her male conquests. The problem was a brotherly over protective side of him tended to bubble up with anything he heard that was remotely disagreeable. Although he knew she kept herself well guarded with sharp blades, experience taught him they would never fully protect the bearers heart. So he tended joke a bit and to move the subject along when they came up. She in turn had been privy to a few of his escapades. Sometimes he worried he was being a bad role model to the young witch. After a few more attacks and blocks before he pulled back he teased her by saying, "You and food. It must be all that activities you engage in after you eat that keeps you skinny."

He had been circling around while he waited for her to laugh, before he came at her. Only to slice at the empty air, where she was a moment before. He Had his own tricks. He had target her just off center to promote her to choose the direction he wanted. It helped him control which foot she fronted. He could even paint her into a corner where she had less room to move. It usually worked until she noticed the ploy but this time she seemed oblivious. "Finding her a dress for a date? Well she lucked out in running into you. If you were able to make that witch up stairs look halfway desirable, I am sure you made the Co-worker lap up the ground she walked on."

He paused for a second, while he commented,"What do you want to bet she will becoming back for more?" before she took the lead, although it was already to late. She was where he wanted her. Additionally, her attacking were missing something, he ducked and waived and parried, just a tin bit to easy. So when he added the fake and thrust. Her knew her footing wouldn't let her turn away and even with both arms in defensive, one of her parry missed its target so Artur's sword brushed the air just above her right breast. Although the spell he put on the edge  defected the blow over her right shoulder, there was no doubt he would have landed it into her chest.


The only thing that bothered him was that she should have been able to parry it, his mind jumped into his professor mode and he commanded, "Reset, again!" as he let her take the lead, again.

((OOC: permission to godmode Nikola missing the pary granted ahead of time by @Miss Mori ))

Their sparing was usually a source of relaxation for Nikola, as much as that sounded counterproductive. But today she just couldn’t seem to let go and get into it. There were too many other thoughts whirling through her mind, and half her battle was keeping them at bay and simply focusing on what she was doing. Like meditation. But her usual clarity of mind was gone today. “I certainly hope so.” she smirked, deflecting another blow. “Normally I avoid people in relationships like the plague. But she seemed uncertain about this one, and if he’s looking for a girl he can impress by taking her to the most expensive restaurant in town, he’s picked by far the wrong girl.” she took a step back and to the right, avoiding another blow before coming at him again, only to find him on the offensive as well, bringing her weapon up to deflect the first attack that never came, without enough room to avoid the second in similar fashion and keep up her offensive sweep.

Nikola stepped back, but found herself running into the barrier at the edge of the practice mat that engaged whenever both parties had weapons drawn, the blade slicing against her clothing and striking the barrier above her shoulder. When they’d first started practicing, they’d simply relied on dulled weapons and their own instincts, but one too many mishaps had resulted in them accepting that despite being professionals, they really needed some added protections. Both of them still had a scar or two. Their second solution had been to enchant the blades to not pierce skin, but bruises had been common, and shredded clothing on both accounts. This new enchantment they’d been working on was much better, though it still stung when contact was made.

But it stung her pride as well, as her demeanor shifted at his words. She hadn’t fallen for that trick in two years, not since they’d started practicing more regularly instead of in random spurts. He’d fallen back on the instructor’s tone, which meant he wasn’t oblivious to the mistakes she’d been making. Without a word the German woman took up her position again, sword at the ready, sheathing her off hand and dropping into her more offensive style, both hands on the hilt of her sword.

Waiting until he was in position, though only just, Nikola came at him once more. She was silent, but moving far better this time, more her usual graceful and fluid self. Normally the witch had no problems doing both, but today that seemed to be a problem. And yet, even focused on the fight rather then playful banter, something was still off, though she was seemingly trying to work past it.

He nodded after he reset, and she then led the attack as she did last round. Being his student for years, she already knew he wanted her to repeat the previous moves. Find and fix her mistake herself. They repeated their previous dance of the last few moves with a minimal variation. She did not make the same mistake and caught the parry. “Good!” He proclaimed, yet he could tell, even though some of her fluidity bubbled up to the surface, her movements gleamed with to much concentration and the unmistakable hue of frustration. She was not turning off her brain, dropping into the moment and letting her sword dance to its full potential.

There is nothing wrong with concentration when you are perfecting a move. Yet once you drill it into your muscles, it then become as simple as a second nature reactions to your opponent’s movements. When you are an intermediate swordsman you then only use your brain to analyze your opponent’s tells or when and where their guard might be dropped. Still after the experience of fighting countless opponents, this analyzation is no longer consciously done.  It gets to a point when a master just knows through their body, what flaws are present.  Sometimes it only takes a few swings, before their body reacts to the weakness of their opponent’s swordsmanship. When you leave things to your body, it allows you to drop fully into the moment. Instead of the delay of possessing the information, you just react accordingly. Nothing but the sword, the room and the opponent exists.

Nikola was forcing herself to think now. Which was a step in the right direction, but she still had not dropped herself into the moment and surrender herself to the sword fight. 

“You have to let go.”  Was all he gave as a warning, before he turned himself over to the deadly swordsman with in him. It was a part of him he learned to harness, from a blinding red rage he had experience during the direst of sword fight. It was the feeling a wizard get when they knew it was killed or be killed. He let the raw lethal power fill him almost completely. Not so that he lost his head, but just enough for it pull into his sword. 

His swords were now mere flashes of light. His aggression was nearly at its peak, only held back by the will of him not willing to kill, just win. He was going to use his sudden fierceness to either force his little Perovskia to give completely into the swordfight and let go of whatever else she had her mind on. Or he would have to bring this practice to an early end, and likely nikola would find herself on the ground with some nasty bruise or two and blade in her face.

Nikola smiled as she caught him this time, before moving about, light on her feet, bringing her blades in for a series of other attacks, mostly aimed to his right, with a few more potent ones intended for his left side, one even making him shift unexpectedly. She almost caught him, almost, but that only seemed to add to the frustration building in her mind. She knew that feeling all too well; and should have called for a break. She knew this. But there was also the burning desire to get rid of all the pent up aggression she’d been feeling lately. And yet…. It. Wasn’t. Helping.

His words burned in her ears as Nikola was forced back into her more defensive stance, pulling out her secondary blade once more as she parried his thrusts and sidestepped a wider arc or two. He had stopped holding back. Usually both of them held back for the beginning of the practice, letting their swords play more like parents watching their children at the playground, easing into the fight and slowly letting themselves give into the art of war they practiced. Relaxing. But not tonight. He could tell she was off. It was the only reason he’d gone from friend to professor the way he had, or why he’d stepped up to a more aggressive pose. In some ways she wondered if he was trying to force her to call it. But she was far too stubborn for that, her frustration with everything that was on her mind only adding to the stubbornness.

It was like something in her mind finally snapped, and at first it seemed like she’d finally done what he’d been trying to get her to do, and given into her training to allow herself to truly feel the fight, and not just go through the motions. But that wasn’t the case. She was more aggressive now, yes, and perhaps could have forced him back if she’d actually done what she needed to and just let go, but it wasn’t so easy tonight. Instead, she’d gotten sloppier, as though her frustrations were controlling her, instead of her controlling them. His blade brushed within inches of her cheek as she lept away, then dove straight back in, as though unphased by the near miss.

What happened next, she couldn’t even begin to repeat, snapped out of her muddled headspace by a heavy jarring feeling that knocked the wind clean out of her, only to see her sword imbedded in the mat once the stars started to clear from her vision, dagger arm pinned and his own blade across her throat.

He could tell she knew it was coming.

Artur thrusted aggressively with movements that were sharp and fast. It would have been deadly, if she was not so quick on her feet and they were not using warded blades. Artur followed her movements, countering the sidestep with one of his own, then cutting the corner of the arc. Catching up to her. She was not able to escape his blades. He followed her as she maneuvered across the room. He was getting closer and closer with every swing.   She was just barely staying ahead of them and if she did not pick up the pace, she would not last long. 

He saw it in her face, a fierce determined look. He hoped her head was in the game now, but her blades did not show it. Instead of becoming more precise and deadly, her fierceness melted to an unruly frustration. It was the movements of a wizard that accepted their fate and are choosing to go down fighting, not one determined to win. His sword barely missed her, and she just managed to slip her face out of his sword's path. Then she reengaged him.

The ringing metal clang was the music of the battlefield. He was not waiting for anything, but new the moment when his blade to slid against hers, just the right way, the fight was over. The swordsman was welltrained in in a few disarming move. This one relies on a poor parry. It allows you to slide and hook the adversary’s sword with yours. By adding a precisely timed flourish, their sword would go flying. Luckily, they did not have an close standing audience for it would have impaled a bystander if it was not warded.  Even before the swords left her hand he had already started to implement the final move. It involve a good knock in her chest that was already leaning in to helplessly keep  her sword. He then reversed and caught her arms out stretch for balance with his sheathed dagger hand. He then twisted her arm behind her back, while his main blade found her throat. In a real fight, the trick was to drag it across before the wizard had a chance to reach for a wand.

He arched her narrow back against his own wide chest, which heaved in deep breaths a little more than he would have liked. He needed this workout for it was obvious he was out of shape. Still his self-criticizing thoughts did not stop him taking enjoyment of the moment of his victory. He whispered “Yмерший,” the Russian word for dead into her ear.   He enjoyed it when he watched her eyes widen with realization and then released her poor twisted arm and arched body.

A small spark of remorse flicked within him as he saw her recover herself. He did not take pleasure in the fact he had harmed his thin stalked Perovskia flower. Yet if it were a real life and death fight, she would not have survived with the mental state she was in. She needed to realize that her head was not in the game and so it was necessary to do it. What she needed was a break, maybe if they talked about what was on her mind, they could continue. So before she had a chance to pick up her sword and try to reclaim her pride he proclaimed, “Enough! Take a break and recenter.”

Artur took his time wiping his sword down and sheathing it, before he tended to his own face and neck with a handkerchief.  The elves who were likely hiding somewhere watching the whole thing, biting their nails, had left out refreshments on a table. Probably hoping for a break, to relieve their anxiety. He poured two glasses of lemon mint water and walked over to her.

“Let's sit.”  He said while nodded in the general direction of one of her favorite spots in her house. Letting her lead the way. 

“Yмерший.”

Normally that word didn’t bring an upwelling of shame to her. He’d known exactly what he was doing, and Nikola stepped away when he released her, though he held her against him longer then usual, as if to drive home the point. She had only taken one step towards her sword when he suggested they take a break, turning back with a brief nod and a glance before collecting her blade. She was expecting him to chastize her for not getting her head into the game, even as she examined her weapons before wiping them off and sheathing them. Today she had been a poor student, and they both knew it. What was supposed to be relaxing and soothing for her had turned into something that only added to the frustration bubbling up in her mind. And it was the first time they’d been able to actually see each other in a while. That wasn’t fair to either of them.

But he didn’t. Instead his voice almost seemed understanding as he returned with two glasses of water, before nodding towards the stairs. On one hand, that could have easily made her feel anger, like he’d been treating her like a child. But this was Artur, and she knew better. Other people, Even Cezary, or her own family, she might have taken it that way, but from him she knew it for what it was. He was worried about her. Nodding again, Nikola led the way back up the stairs to the day-lit livingroom, with its massive windows, light from the chandelier starting to replace the light from the sun as the afternoon waxed on.

Settling down in a corner of one of her couches, with her knees drawn up and her feet tucked under her, Nikola took a sip of her water, watching as he joined her in the room. “I’m sorry… I can’t seem to shake this today. I’d say it was the stress of the upcoming show, but we’ve rehearsed our stuff to death that we could do it in our sleep, and i don’t get stage fright… Likewise, my collection is ahead of schedule, due to some insomnia for the past week.” and she knew what had caused that. And knew he would ask. But couldn’t bring herself to talk about it without prompting. Her mother was a constant source of stress, and she’d known that going in to this. But now that she had some answers, she found it only created more questions. And the source of those answers wasn’t one she was prepared to discuss with her family. But Artur...

He was relieved she did not argue. He knew that a talk would be a best solution. Yet when he was 23, he would have refused and pick up the sword again and again until he laid bruised and likely broken, exhausted and unable to move. No, she had so much more potential then him. Which Was why he was slightly disappointed that she went the fashion rout. But he had to remind himself she was a grownup witch and not his student and so she able to make her own decisions and live her own life. He was thinking this when he was following her up the stairs. It was then when he noticed how the fabric of her tight black leggings pulled accentuating her slim lower half of her figure as she took each stepped in turn.

Artur gripped the handrails forcing himself to hold back. He never allowed his womanizing nature to be directed at a student and he was not going to start now. With her sword in her hand she had always been a student witch, a partner, a star pupil.. never a woman. But in some rare incidents in between their sword sessions he had seen and admired her for the bloomed Perovskia she become. He chose to drink his glass of water, instead her looking at her. As if the water could wash away his thoughts. He waited a second or two paused on the stairs, before casted a refilling charm on the glass and following, well behind her.

The familiar room was flooded with light.  He found her already curled up in a ball at the corner of the couch she preferred. There, she suddenly looked so young again, like she did when she was his student. He wanted to rap his arms around her and protect her. How could I have any other them protective paternal thoughts of her? He chastised himself before he went onto regret being so harsh on her during training.

Her apologies rushed out even before Artur had a chance to choose a seat in the room. Part of him wanted to put his arm around her and hold her like a child, and the other part warned him to keep his distance. So he sat on the opposite end of the couch. He tried to look concerned but relaxed, propping his leg up on his knee and looping his arm around the back of the couch. He was turned slightly to her to appear as open as always, but far enough to not be to intimate. He nodded as he listened sipping more of the cool water.

"Art performance and a Fashion show. Who knew it would be a sword woman's downfall?" He said a little jokingly. Yet, in truth any good amount of stress would do it. He knew that. Still he was concerned...she was rarely like this. Not around him anyway. Everything seemed understandable besides the part about the insomnia. With that word his eyes squinted and a crease between his eyes deepened as his eyebrows knitted together. "Insomnia? Is it from stress of the show or something else."

He was still leaning back, but he was no longer occupying himself with his glass of water. Instead he studied her, her face for any of the tell signs of dark circles, pale skin, sunken cheeks. He started to think he should ask the elves to bring her food. Maybe something happened between her and a friend... Merlin help him, if this is because a stupid wizard did something to her.

Nikola had barely noticed that he’d taken longer than her to walk the same stairs, looking up with a soft smile he only got to see when it was just the two of them. She’d had the name Ice Queen of Klyk Vampira for a reason, but there were few people who got to see that ice crack when they were alone, and Artur in recent years had become one of those people. She was pleased when he joined her on the same couch, her own posture relaxing a little as he took a far more relaxed pose then she did. “Those things… they should stress me, perhaps… butthats the kind of stress where I thrive… where i’m at my best… this...” she let out a sigh, drinking more of her water. “Its my….” she stopped, wondering how to even begin to explain, before words simply started to spill. Artur was one of the few people whom she kept as confidants. And him more so then even Edyta lately. After all, with her 6th year exams, and this year her impending NEWTs, Nikola hadn’t wanted to burden the girl.

“I got… Desperate. And did something against my better judgement. In some ways, it turned out for the best.. But now i’m left to deal with the consequences… and the doubt...” Nikola was rambling a little, and slowed, knowing she had better explain before he jumped to too many horrific conclusions. “Its about my father… I sought out a Deviner...” Nikola had always rolled her eyes at the concept, but in this case she wasn’t going to them about the future, but about her own past. “Several actually. Seven. And Five gave me almost the same answer about the time and location of my conception… but i’ve found it helps me very little!!!” the dark haired woman set her glass down a little more hostilly then perhaps was necessary on the sturdy wood coffee table, and aimed her wand at the sparse bookshelf, an old album flying from one of the drawers, a bit dusty, but recently torn through, pictures askew.


She began flipping through it, before dropping it on the table between them, all of the pictures open to what looked like the same party. “All five described this same party… my mother was obsessed with herself, and took pictures everywhere. She kept them in albums and according to my uncles, loved to look through them and talk about how much fun she’d had or how good she’d looked.” she didn’t tell him that her mother had made her cry when she was barely a year old for spitting up on one such album, that her mother was using as a poor excuse for a bedtime story. Conceited bitch. “One described the decorations, in great detail… another the architecture…. They all said it was a new years party. One could place that it was in berlin, and gave me descriptions of the people who had been there…. Many of whom i found in her protographs...” she nudged the book with her foot, so it was angled towards him.

“The only problem… there were over three hundred wizards at that party, many of whom brought uninvited guests… So it doesn't actually help me at all!” although it sort of had…. She now had a list of about twelve names. But no confirmation that there wasn’t another man at the party whom it could have been. And then of course there was the other matter… She gestured to one of the pictures, of a man kissing her mother’s cheek while she toasted the camera and downed a glass of champagne. “Recognise anyone?”

He was glad to see her relax a little… But as her words slowly came out, he thought it was like slowly being closed into an iron maiden… as he waited on pins and needles for her to give him the actual information of what was bothering her.  He held still as he heard the words:   I got… Desperate. And did something against my better judgement…. now i’m left to deal with the consequences… and the doubt... Artur's face pressed into a deeper frown as he was imagining the worst. Money? No, her family had money. Possibly a male or female client blackmailed her. Or worst, what if she was pregnant by man who forced her by threatening something? Like she would lose her fashion business. Arthur face turned to stone and his eyes burned with hells fury as he imagined the countless torture he will do to the wizard, many of witch involved his blades. Oh, he will keeping the groveling, sniveling, baster of a wizard alive.... at least long enough to beg for mercy at Nikola's feet.... before Artur finishes him.

Oh, his sweet little Perovskia . No wonder she could not sleep. It would be scandalous for her care a wizard child without a pureblood wizard to claim it. Like mother, like daughter they would say. It then occurred to Artur, that is why she mentioned she was going to get a severe interrogation next time I go home for dinner and now her Grandmother’s friend might allude to him being the father.

For all the love he had for the females the wizarding world had to offer and the exceptionally long list of activities he engages with them, he had never once wanted a child with any of them. Although he had been accused off at siring детка or two, but none were true. He had made sure of that… Seeing that he had very little inheritance to offer. That and the drinking and his track record with witches, he knew he would not be a good father. Yet he loved Nikola… like a sister and would see that she was always taking care of and may the great powerful elements help the wizard that talked ill of her.

Its about my father…

“Oh? A diviner?” He said bit confused. He knew she only was a Meer because she did not know her father. Her mother, Cecilia exploits were possible more colorful than Artur’s own. She had seldom every say anything on the subject before. Even with most of the other students were to scared of the Meer name to chastise her over her questionable blood status, Artur knew that the lack of a known father still affected the young witch. No wizard had bothered to claim the Nikola at the time of her birth, maybe it was due to mother, or the fear of the Meer family. Yet somehow the wizard remained anonymous for over 20 years, and it was highly unlikely he would be found now.

If she was seeking a diviner for her an answer to her paternal linage, most would think she was desperate and by her own account she was. But Artur knew her. She was always one to think out of the box and never admitted being stumped by a problem.

“You saw seven diviners?” He repeated quite surprised by the number. He never heard of any witch even the most diviner-addicted-type going to so many for just one question. Maybe she WAS desperate. He wondered briefly what had started this sudden search or if it had been going for years without him knowing.  Artur leaned in curiously closer as she magically retrieves an old album. He watched her examined the pages, before finding what she wanted and throwing it down between them on the table. She seemed a little to frustrated, in Artur’s opinion.

Artur could see from his spot on the couch that the images were of a New Year’s party. By the age of the photos and their style of the clothes (thanks to Nikola he started to notice such things,) he would guess the moving images were around twenty years old.  Her long thin leg raised up and a slender toe pushed the edge of the book towards him. Given him unspoken permission to examine it more carefully.

“Three hundred wizard guests?  Or do you mean three hundred males were present!?!” Artur now could understand her frustration. But it had to be only one night. "It can't be all of them. I mean, how many wizards could she have slept with during one night?” The moment he asked the question, he regretted it. This was Cecilia Meer he was talking about….

Artur was examining one photo, which if he was not mistaken, capture an image of his oldest brother escorted his soon to be wife in the background of a party as they met with a similar aged couple.  He thought when she about him about his brother, So he started to say, “Oh, Yes I um….see” But cutoff as he realized she was pointing to another photo.

Arthur’s eyes grew, and he leaned in and out. “Fisker?” He asked man. He watched the young version of his coworker give the woman another kiss, before winking at Artur in acknowledgment. He seemed to say, looks like I gunna get some tonight. “Wait….What are you saying? Are you saying that Erik Fisker is…or I mean could be your father?!?”

He looked a look at Nikola and then at young Fisker and then back again. “I doubt it. You act and look nothing alike.” He secretly did not like the man, to be far there were few wizards that Artur liked. Of which he could likely count on one hand and all of which had gotten his back in a bar fight at least once. Fisker was stuck up in a friendly, stupid, responsible way. Okay maybe he did not have a good enough reason to hate Fisker, but he certainly did not want the wizard to be Nikorko’s father.  Artur could just imagine Nikola joining Fisker in the Professor’s Lounge, enjoying a warm cup of tea together and listening to some annoying siren music. “You can’t be serious? Is he the only one she took a picture with?” He picked up the old tattered book and started to flip through the pages, desperate to see another corporate.

The cold look did not cross his face unnoticed, and Nikola realized what she was saying must have sounded like, unable to keep herself from smiling slightly as the young woman carefully explained the actual cause of her concern, watching the flicker of relief in his piercing eyes. Their relationship had evolved over the years, and the German witch found she very much enjoyed their closeness. But this protective streak was not something she’d seen before. At least not like this. She was well aware that he had his reservations about her exploits with men, especially since she preferred men closer to his age, if not older, for her liaisons. And she was well aware of his proclivities as well, and suspected it had something to do with that. But she was no delicate flower; easily bruised. Nikola did not fall in love.

“Seven may seem excessive, but I’ve never trusted Deviners… half the time I’m inclined to believe they simply tell their clients what they think they want to hear. We determine our own fate, i refuse to believe that its some pre-ordained… Schwachsinn.” she waved her hands dismissively over her head, having already set down her nearly empty glass. “But this was the past… so I was more inclined… plus they had the subject of the inquiry in front of them… two described the same wallpaper, and four of them, the type of music. Three placed it in berlin, but six were able to tell me it was New Years eve. None of them were aware that I had visited others, or seen all these pictures.” Nikola had been quite thorough. “With so many of them saying the same thing, I’m quite inclined to believe their words as truth.”

There was amused laughter at his rather aggressive question, tinged with bitterness. “According to one of my cousins, she once hosted a Grecian style Orgy… so it's possible. But no; three hundred guests. But from what I've been able to learn there could have been as many as five hundred there. It was a rather large party, and though most of the wealthier people stuck to the upper floor, my mother would not have limited her selection…. As you can see.” the picture with Fisker, after all, was taken from the lower level, the upper balcony clearly visible behind them.

“And no, he’s not the only one… my grandfather was able to track down several other pictures from other guests at that party...” she pulled an envelope from the back even as Artur took the book to continue looking. “There's a few others, but this one caught my eyes a well...” she handed him a picture of a happy looking couple, older, but in the background Cecilia Meer was in the arms of another man, giggling and playfully flirting. “Aaaaand unfortunately you will probably recognise this man as well...” she grumbled, glaring at a much younger version of Durmstrang's current Deputy headmaster, allowing him to take that picture before setting down a neat stack of 12 pictures.

“I found twelve. Men. with my mother. In more than just casual flirting. I don’t know if she slept with all of them, or if she simply was toying with them. But she must have… with at least one of them.” 

Artur nodded grimly as she gave him the rundown of just how she compared the similarities. “My experience with diviners is limited.” He admitted not having anything to add. He had never gone to them to seek information;  instead he had seen a few as just an excuse to meet a beautiful mystical women that caught his eye.  So, it was no wonder he had a few that he had slept with. One of his lovers divined that he would cheat on her, so she left him. Yet with his track record he did not find that one would take much skill at divining to predict that. “But I would guess there are some with true sight otherwise people would not go to them.”

Artur raised an eyebrow to a record high with the description of the orgy. Where was I when this was happening? He thought before remembering this was 25 years ago and he at best would have been a first year at Durmstrang. In a way he was glad he was too young to technically be her father. Although he was not quite sure why. He assumed such a thing would make things awkward between them and he preferred their relationship to not change. Still, he knew he might be jealous of whoever ends up being discovered as the father,  …. for it might mean Nikola had even less time for sword practice. Even still he willed himself to support her in this endeavor and grimly nodded when she revealed about the sheer amount of people. He thought of all the faces he might recognize in the background of the images, and he realized just how daunting it might seem to her.  He watch the animated Meer witch make her rounds talking flirting and seemed to have a grand old time for a bit, before he turned back to Niola. He tried to rally her hopes, “Well, that means likely there would be somewhere closer to two hundred and fifty wizards, and surely not all of them were available to slip away for promiscuous activities that night.”

Although it would be less likely that a wizard with a wife present would slip off with the Meer heiress it certainly would not be impossible. Some of Artur’s own exploits had taking place under the Husband’s nose. This and the possibly that the father could have been someone from any class explained the possibilities more. It could mean she could be half-blood wizard, a strong possibility if it looked like Frisker was the father. For the girl who teetered on Pureblood society it would be a blow. He did not bring this up yet for, she then pulled out more photos while making a grim announcement. Artur looked at the top one, it was a photo that beheld Cecilia Meer flirting with … “Pavel Krinov, Der'mo!” Artur let out a curse in Russian before he was able to control himself. Dropped the photo album, the professor examine the photo of his colleague from his new position in the middle of the couch. He forgot any need for distance, instead consumed with looking at the young Krinov and discovering who else was in the images. The Deputy Headmaster was cocky and had given Artur enough reasons for the Swordsman to not like him. He had butted heads with Krinov over his policies and my way or the highway attitude several times. Even worse Krinov had a track record with the witches too and there was a time or two when their targets over lapped.

She presented the stack of 12 photos, with words which came out cut, short and it was clear she was frustrated. He was halfway through a quick examination of the faces in the stack when her words halted him. He turned to her, fixing her with his gray eyes. No wonder she had been unable to concentrate during the practice. Artur could not imagine how long it took to come this far, in the search and just how many hours she had spent bent over, scrutinizing her mother’s flirtatious actions in these photos.

“Twelve is a good start.” He said although he knew she was nowhere near the start or the end of this search. He would imagine that some wizards who were unsure of their parentage would have a suspect or two but this girl had a dozen. “Look Nikola, If there is anything I could do to help you...I could talk to Krinov and Fisker for you. Like bring up old times, you know sharing old escapades with each other wizard to wizard. Get them crossed off the list and they never need to know…”

 Artur knew it would not be so easy to get either of the men to talk about their love life, let alone what happened behind closed doors with a disgraced witch over 20 years ago. Yet for his little Perovskia he would do anything. Surely that was why she showed him the images of the two wizards first. He could confront them discreetly and find out if they were actually a possibility or help her cross their names off her list. His eyes which had slid did back to the images of Fisker and Krinov while imagining just what and how would he extract the information from them. Then his eyebrows raised as he recognized another connection between them, which was possibly why she showed them to him first. He put the photos down and turned to the slim witch next to him with a soft expression on his face.

“Nikola,” he said unsure how to approach the issue. Yet he had always been direct with his students, and Nikola was no exception, so he just asked. “Fisker and Krinov are half-bloods. Are you concerned that you might find out you’re a halfblood too?”

It would not bother Artur he would care for and fight for the young girl either way. Yet he knew to finding out that information, after being raised in a pureblood family for over 20 years would shake up any wizard senses of identity. That along with the fact it could negatively affect her relationship with her family and that would be something he knew would be a concern to her as well as him.