Young Writers Society

Alec watched the guy, Tyler. Interesting character. A bit like himself, really...

But no matter. He needed to vanish; the fight was over, everything was set straight. These students could take care of their own. Alec shook his head when Tyler turned the box to him. "No, I'm fine."

Alec strode away, back down the hall and out the door. He reentered the courtyard, breathing in the sweet smell of the fabulous outdoors. He jogged over to the treeline, to a trail only he knew about and could access. It was his own trail, leading a mile into the forest, winding through the brush, over a creek, past a cave, and into the outskirts of the darkest parts of the forest.

He sighed when he finally came upon his simple house, an abandoned shack he had remodeled and fortified; he had stumbled upon the crumbling piece after running from Stalin's forces for three days and chose to make it his home. He knew how to survive off the land, with the creatures here. He even had a few books he had brought with him that taught him more about survival. But the best teacher was experience.

Since that time, he had found a new, official house in town, and a job, but this place was a good escape. He often came out here just to get away from the world and harsh realities.

He groaned, leaning his staff against the wall beside the hammock he had raised against the back wall. Finally, peace. He plopped down in it, closing his eyes as he relaxed and began to lightly doze.

Professor Zhannochka Kaminski

Whenever a commotion erupted in the corridor, Zhannochka was rarely the one to go running to see what it was, to break up the fight. That involved a large crowd, something she would rather not deal with. So, as usual, when it happened that day, she turned slightly to look at the door, and then to the handful of students who had arrived early to the classroom. One boy was on his way toward the door, presumably to go check it out.

"Don't even think about it," the professor snapped. "Sit down."

The boy scampered back to his seat, and Zhannochka turned back to the blackboard, shaking her wand at it to make the day's lesson appear in perfectly neat script. The runes Tiwaz, Berkana, and Ehwaz were written largely with their keywords and merkstave meanings underneath them.

Two minutes later, the bell rang. "We'll be starting on Tyr's Aett today," she announced, noticing at the same time that Lebedev wasn't in his seat. Her keen eyes flickered to his chair momentarily. She frowned and shook her head before continuing. He'd show up soon enough, and she could hand out a detention and be done with it.

"The first rune is Tiwaz. Honor. Justice. Self sacrifice." She was silent to let the meaning sink into the students' thick heads. "Kisa. Tell me why this is relevant. Self sacrifice."

"Because," her best student said, "myth has it that Tyr sacrificed his hand to bind the wolf Fenris."

"Right," Zhannochka said as Lebedev entered the room. "We were just talking about self sacrifice," she told him as he took his seat. She rapped her wand over the palm of her hand as she paced in front of her desk. "Why are you late? You know, it is fitting that you'd come in right now. Detention: sacrifice of your precious free time. Seems unfair at first, but you know, it's for the greater good. However, being the patient woman I am, I'll allow you to explain yourself."

She stopped behind her desk, put her wand down, and leaned on the surface, staring at the boy. "I've no doubt you'll choose your words wisely, Mr. Lebedev."

I'm sorry, I always hate it when people do this, but could someone introduce me?

Name: Kalavarn Penstrill

Character picture: http://media.nowpublic.net/images//94/7 ... 730aa1.jpg

Character theme: X-Ray Dogs "Dark Empire"

Allegiance: Spy

Age: 19

Bloodline: Half-Blood(presumably)

Appearance: Kalavarn has blackish, silver hair that is roughly slicked up at an upward angle. He has a slightly pointed chin covered in a rough beard that recedes upward into a five o clock shadow. He is rougly 5'9 to 6 feet and a medium to heavy build, with a very prominent muscle tone. Both eyes have a different eye color, one being gray and the other a midnight blue. His left eye is slighty narrower than the right due to an accident in which he was impaled in the face with a large stone.

Personality: He is a very mysterious and secretive individual. Often seen disappearing behind corners, walking into dark alleys, and resting in places most people wouldn't dare go. He carries around this attitude of arrogance and cockiness, even without the use for words. Being raised in the Ashheim fashion, he has an unusual trust for Stalin, although he can't bring himself to fully like him. He is very curious, always wanting to learn more and more, so much that many people think of him as a wierd fellow. Being one of Stalin's greatest assets, he has unfortunately questioned his loyalty to the ruler, many times, so much that it has drove him mad in the past. His emotions are unstable at times, causing him to have the inability to truely trust and love someone.

Background: Kalavarn has had a rough past, being born in a shed, without a father at his side, in the midst of the Great Purge. His mother was a former witch, retiring the use of her powers. The where abouts of his father are unknown and whether he had magical skills are absent.

At age 5 he and his mother were picking vegetables, trying to scrap up a measly meal in an abandoned garden. In the midst of their futile efforts his life changed forever. A flash of blinding light, and his mother's scream are the last thing that ran through his senses.

He lay there in the dirt, alone, not knowing where he was. The next thing he knew he was sitting in front of a desk, with a strange figure sitting passively behind it. Then came the words that changed his life forever "Hello little one...you can call me...Joseph."

Abilities:

Magical: He is deeply immersed in the Dark Arts, and his skills in potions and transfigurations are quite substantial. He has on one ocassion pondered on the creation of horcruxes, but could never bring himself to create such a thing.

Normal: Kalavarn is a very smart student, often seen in the library, and on some events in the restricted section. He is very skilled at Quidditch, even creating a new way of traveling in the game, balancing on top of his broomstick, like a surfboard or skateboard. He was captain of the Dueling Club, but was banned, due to his use of the crucious curse on a fellow classmate.

Misc: He has an unusual love for Threstrals, the invisible creatures that wonder the forest. The reason for this is unknown to others.

Equipment: His wand is of Blackthorn, with the core of a tooth from the Peruvian Vipertooth dragon of South America.
Created for him under the direction of Stalin, it sports as a very important asset to him.

Mikhail Mogarych Lebedev - Runes
And that apparently was how to be foiled by one's classmates. What did it take to get a decent, uninterrupted fight around here? The look he exchanged with Dima after the fight simmered down was less than warm, but there was little he could say when the other had effectively gotten rid of what could have been considered a common enemy.

Looked like it was time to go back to Runes, then. With a last, disinterested look at the American (who was being taken care of anyway) he shook his head at the good samaritan and his offer of sweets, bent down to pick up his bag and strolled down the corridor into Runes, a good five minutes or so late.

Where he was immediately swooped upon by Kaminski. Who really should have been used to it by now, because it definitely wasn't the first time he'd been delayed or just not come at all. At least this time he wasn't sporting a black eye or a broken arm. And his uniform looked fine, if a little dusty.

"Apologies." He took his usual seat, chin up and meeting the professor's gaze squarely, not looking apologetic in the least. Why should he? That idiot had deserved every single blow. "Had a little... disagreement with dear comrade and prefect Boris. You know how it is." A shrug, like there wasn't much to it. There were a few sidelong glances from the others, somewhere along the spectrum of 'crazy' to 'suicidal' to 'asking for it', which he again ignored. He'd deal with them if he needed to, but now was not the time.

Professor Zhannochka Kaminski

Zhannochka sighed. "Boris again? He's such a pansy--I mean--" She'd said it under her breath, but naturally, the entire class heard it and erupted into giggles. "Augh, shut up!" she yelled, turning to scrape her nails down the chalkboard. The sound had never bothered her, but it rendered the class absolutely silent. Oddly enough, it had never occurred to her that her occasional slip-ups were the reason why older students told newer students, "You want to be entertained? Take Runes. Kaminski's hilarious."

"Now, where were we? Ah--"

"You were talking about Boris being a pansy," a student chuckled.

Detention. It would have been so easy. But she didn't want to give detentions out on her birthday. Because that would mean she'd have to spend her twenty-sixth babysitting. "Yes," she said. "I was talking about Boris. But now I'm not. Now, I'm going to talk about Tiwaz, yes?"

She talked about the rune for a while, giving a more in-depth story about where it had come from, what it meant, and what it meant when reversed, or merkstave. "Everyone understand? Yes, Sokolov?" The young lady who had raised her hand merely pointed out the window. Zhannochka glanced out, then moved closer upon seeing a form heading toward the forest. She noted exactly where he entered.

"For homework," she said right before the bell rang, "I just want you to study these new runes. We'll be having a quiz on them first thing. And Lebedev. I'm having mercy on your pitiful soul today. Next time you're tardy, though, you will be having a detention. Kisa, see me, please."

As soon as the students were out, she was left with another spy, one posing as a student. "You saw that person out there, right? He's not supposed to be wandering the grounds. He's not a student. I'm going to get Professor Markovic from Arithmancy, and we're going to go out and find this wise guy."

Kisa nodded and followed Zhannochka to collect the other professor, and then to the woods.

"He went in here," Zhannochka said, and after walking for a good forty-five minutes, they came upon a shack. The person in question was sleeping in a hammock.

"What should we do?" Markovic asked, lowering his voice so as not to wake the sleeper. "We could petrify him--"

"And levitate him out?" Kisa added.

"Sure," Markovic nodded. "We could do that."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Zhannochka cried before it had even been decided, jabbing her wand at the sleeping form.

"'Nochka, no!" Markovic cried, but it was too late. "Okay, never mind." He put his hand over his reddening face, standing still, calming himself momentarily.

"He was waking up," Zhannochka said. "Come on. Let's get him to the school. I'm pretty sure he's been spying."

Looks like I have to spend my birthday baby-sitting anyway, she thought.

*Hey Jaz, I've kind of made a few big judgements on Juliet here, so if you don't like any of them let me know.

- Dima, Neutral, Hallway -

With the excitement over, Dima headed down another corridor. He had fifty minutes until next lesson, and nothing to do with them.

That was until, as he was strolling down the hall, he heard the sound of someone singing quietly. Her voice was soft, and he paused for a few moments to listen. As he got closer he recognised the vibrant red streaks in her hair, though she was too busy staring at one of the display boards to notice him until he lent on the wall beside it.

She stopped singing suddenly.

'Juliet, right?' He asked. She nodded and smiled lightly. 'I'm Dima. We've been in detention together a few times. I heard you've had a few tiffies with the teachers.'

Her face scrunched. 'Those teachers...' She scowled under her breath, forgetting herself for a moment. She knew that saying the wrong thing to the wrong person could get her into serious trouble, the kind that she didn't want to get involved in.

'You hate Stalins men.' He said. Her defences rose. 'Don't worry. I just hate men in general. You like singing?'

'Yeh,' a sweet grin crossed her face. Dima smiled back, with slight curiosity. Yeh? What was that? Yes, maybe? Her accent was different.

'I can play the Piano, shall we go and see if there's any music rooms free?'

'Okay.'

Dima nodded and they headed for the stairs.

'I didn't know they had music rooms in this place.'

'There's no Music Lessons, but there's two soundproof rooms where the school musicians practice. You see, the authorities came of with the idea that real music, even if amplified by magic, has qualities that...' He went on as they walked.

***Just letting you know I'll be absent for two days; I have a two-day orientation event at my college, and I don't know when - if at all - I'll be able to post.***

Calina

Calina’s head throbbed with pain. Students pointed at her and chuckled as she staggered clumsily out of the Grand Hall and into the foyer, back bent forward and mouth wide agate. There was a sofa by the bottom of the staircase in which Calina threw herself on in relief. She swung her feet up to rest on the arm, turning to press her face into the sofa. The leather was smooth on her face, and as she relaxed, she drooled down its polished surface.

Her 'master' plan did not go the way that she had wanted to. Every time she used Legilimency on someone that she felt she could easily convince to join Zamechatel'ni dom, she was met with an invisible barrier, an uptight façade of loyalty and trust towards Stalin, stubbornly fortified by their fears of death. The only time today Calina was able to probe someone’s mind was of this scrawny looking freshmen out of amusement. However, she scrunched her face up instead when disturbing images of the boy hugging Stalin raided her mind.

As she was still sprawled on the sofa, she heard the echos of heavy, sluggish footsteps, followed by long, drawn out moans. Sheepishly, she poked her head up.

“Come on, do I have to drag you? “Said a student in an impatient tone. “I know it hurts, but at least try to walk.”

“I'll try," murmured another student, "And..th..thank you. I’m really... sorry about all of this."

Bewildered, Calina rubbed her eyes and saw that a student was taking his time in helping an American kid across the room. It seemed like he had just been piled upon by some students, for there were crimson streaks of blood running down his face. He had a hand clutching onto the side of his head, though several droplets were able to seep their way through, staining his uniform and the white marble floor beneath their feet.

At that moment, her eyes rekindled with a glint of cheekiness. She could use Legilimency to recruit the American boy into her army! It's best to have something at least, no matter how pathetic the 'thing' may look. The bullies had already done the dirty work for her in beating him up to the point that he’s barely about to keep conscious. All it takes is just one simple penetration into his mind for her to mark the American, now that the chances of getting a resulting headache would be slim. Though, there is still the hassle of sneaking into the American’s room in the Hospital Wing without getting a spanking from Stalin’s soldiers.

“Bah, I’ll worry about it out later,” she lazily concluded, and propped her head down for some sleepy time.

Anna

Anna frowned in concentration as she reached a particularly tricky section of music. Occasionally, she wondered why anyone in their right mind would write such a difficult section of music. But then she reminded herself that it wouldn’t be such good a good composition, otherwise.

She ended the piece with a flourish, and, in the act of shuffling her music sheets, looking for something else to play, heard a pair of footsteps echoing down the hall. One, a young man’s voice, was speaking about God knows what.

Another thing Anna pondered on a regular basis was that, while the music rooms themselves were soundproofed, sounds from the outside world could still filter in through the closed door. She supposed it was that way so that the practicing students could hear the school bell, but it still bothered her.

Shaking off her irritation, she picked up a short, simple piece of music, and began to play. In her haste to drown out the annoying footsteps, she forgot that the door to her music room was slightly ajar.

Professor Zhannochka Kaminski

Zhannochka led the way back into the school. "Kisa, you can go to class." She fished a hall pass out of her pocket, signed it, and sent the student on her way. "Markovic. Headmaster's office, yes?" She strode quickly, her footsteps echoing loudly in the nearly-empty corridors, her robes flourishing as she turned corners.

Her colleague struggled to keep up; it wasn't easy staying close behind an angry woman when you were levitating dead weight around. In fact, if Markovic had been going any faster, he could possibly have dropped this young person right on his head. Somehow, he thought Zhannochka wouldn't have minded.

She rapped three times on the headmaster's door with the knuckles of her spindly fingers. She then opened the door, performed a shallow curtsy, and strode to the old one's desk. "Headmaster, how are you?" she asked.

"Quite well, Kaminski. To what do I owe the visit?"

Zhannochka looked back; Markovic had finally caught up. He levitated the captive into the room, letting him down gently on a large, intricately-patterned area rug. Then he stepped back, and the woman spoke. "I saw this fellow creeping around school grounds, Headmaster. So, naturally, I followed him into the woods." She started to pace, as was her custom when she was nervous, around the still form. "He could be curious. He could be lost, yes. But. He could be, and probably is, a spy. I suggest you bring up the potions master with a bit of veritaserum for questioning."

The headmaster nodded. "How is your birthday, Kaminski?"

Zhannochka shot him a glare, and then gestured to the captive. "Certainly stress-free and full of immense relaxation, Headmaster. However, I think I shall live. I'll have you know I will be going now. Feel free to call on me if you need anything." She curtsied again and started to leave.

"He'll call for you," Markovic said, falling in step with her more easily now that he was rid of his burden. "He'll want to know what the surroundings were like, at least."

"Well, be that as it may, Markovic, I have a beginner's Runes class to teach in a half hour."

"That kid's really in for it when he wakes up, don't you think, 'Nochka?"

Zhannochka grinned, the glare softening from her eyes. "I'm a bit upset that I may not be there when he does, but once again, Markovic, I think I shall live."

Anatolii Ivanov

"I-I-" The student pressed his back against the brick wall, trembling. He'd soiled himself some time ago, Anatolii knew. That didn't stop him from using his wand to tilt the brat's chin up.

"You did not appear yesterday, when you were called to appear before the ministry." Anatolii's voice was low, sweet, tempting, and dangerous. Like dynamite. Given the right conditions, it would explode.

This boy was brilliant, no beyond brilliant. Anatolii wouldn't blink if he one day found out this boy found a way for Stalin to live up to 300 years without splitting his soul. And that was precisely why the boy must disappear.

"I-I, t-the Father of Nations," he gulped, and shrank further away from the wand on his chin. Anatolii was getting bored. He tapped his foot impatiently. "H-he said I ought to stay in school and get good grades if I wanted to be one of his men one day -"

A pastry fell from the boy's pocket, and Anatolii sighed. His brows furrowed. Peasants. They never truly recovered from the famine the other year.

"But he never said you could skip meetings you were asked to appear at."

One of Anatolii's men shuffled behind him. He approached Anatolii, murmuring, "This is too much. That meeting was nothing important, and you know it."

Anatolii returned Gregori's icy stare. "But this child did not know that, Gregori. And that's the problem. He was willing to skip a potentially important meeting...for a class. It makes you question his loyalty, does it not?"

The bitter wind of his country howled, causing a few crumbs from the pastry to fly into the wind and attach themselves onto Gregori's white uniform. Gregori flinched and backed away.

"So tell me again, why did you skip it? And tell the truth this time."

There was no answer but the putrid smell of urine and a few whimpers. The boy shook his head. Tears actually ran down his face.

"I see." Anatolii turned to Gregori. "Shoot him and clean up after yourself."

Gregori's fist clenched and he looked at the boy with sorrowful eyes. "This boy would make a great asset for the secretary, Anatolii."

Anatolii raised an eyebrow. "You think I am not aware of that? He may be great one day, but as long as he doubts, he is useless. Kill him."

Gregori hesitated again, but his hand moved towards his pistol. Still, he was too slow. Anatolii whipped out his gun and shot both the student and Gregori before anyone else could react.

When the gunshots finished echoing through the halls, Anatolii had to stop himself from shaking. Too familiar. Far too familiar. They sang a song familiar to him, a warning bell tolling for him.

Vlada, forever and always, her death would be with him.

A slow murmur broke through the film of solemn respect in the hall. Students walked by as if they saw nothing. As if there were no bodies on the ground. Just then a student peeked out of a room, obviously attracted by the noise. Her face was only there for the barest fraction of a second, but he saw it. She'd scowled.

Disapproval existed in the home of Stalin's beloved students.

No doubt one of the lesser officers saw it too, for he frowned. Anatolii held a hand and went into the room with the girl himself. He would handle the situation. Pretend he'd demanded for a good answer, maybe leave her hysterical for the boys to see. Then he would return to the ministry, report that the school should be under a stricter headmaster and that Gregori attempted to save a rebel. End of story.

He entered the quiet room and the cavernous room magnified the sound of his footsteps, of his breathing. The slightly rebellious student was asleep on a desk, or at least, pretending to be.

"What is your name?" Anatolii asked gruffly.

She glanced at him, lazily at first, but straightened when she realized who he was. "Juliet," she answered. "Juliet Fairfields."

Kalavarn Penstrill - School Courtyard

It was beginning to drizzle outside, no more than a gentle shower. The clouds as bold and as prominent as ever, hazed in a grey tint. The ground had since then grew a slight fog, a mist, as it began to shower. A thing of beauty, until the school dog walked along its surface. It was Boris, madly casting stones into a nearby pond, as he couldn't get over today's defeat. His comrades standing around him in bewilderment, as he kept chucking stones into the water.

"Hey man calm down, you gone hurt yourself!", said one the boys, as he tried to stop the next stone from behing thrown.
"Look, shutup and get your hands off me!", Boris said, huffing and panting like a mad dog with infected with rabies.
"Ok ok sry...sheesh! You just need to get a grip and chill out.", he said.

"Yes....he does." The voice came from out of the blue. All of them looking around franticlly. Boris even took out the time too look, but was not surprised by what he saw. A tall figure, leaning up against a tree, with arms folded staring right back at him. Boris dropped the rock, and it tumbled into the pond.

"Kalavarn."

The figure propped back up and walked hurridly over to Boris. The other guys, suddenly decide to flee the seen, walking at a great pace toward the school.

The gentleman grabbed Boris by the collar and gave him a push, ending up with him crashing on the wet grass.

"What the hell is wrong with you...HUH?".

Kalavarn was steaming with anger. Boris tried to speak but was interrupted.

"This isn't the first time I've warned you about this! Leave these kids alone...you pounding on them and beating them up, was not part of the agreement!"

Boris wasn't the one for crying, but he was beginning to calm down real easily.

"I'm sorry man.", he said, less convincing than he thought.
"No, no, no don't be sorry, think for one second! Now I would be reeeeally happy to tell 'dad' about your little fiasco today. And I'm pretty sure he wont think its funny...humor isn't one of his strong points.

Kalavarn now, had a slight smirk on his face.

"Alright...alright!", said Boris, still determined to show he was still a tough guy.

He held out a hand to help the brute up. Boris looked up at him, grabbed his hand, and grunted as he was pulled from the grass. Kalavarn placed his hands on Boris's sholders, dusting off any dirt or grass.

"Now...I hope this is the last time we must have this conversation, because I don't want to."

Boris stared him straight in the eye and gave him a curt nod. He turned around a dreadedly walked back to the school's side door.

Kalavarn standing there with a grim smile. "Such a shame...you have to do everything yourself.", he mumbled to himself. The rain was getting heavier. The clouds charging up the sky. A flash of lighting lit up the horizon. Kalavarn was no where to be found. Just the pitter patter of rain, and the low rumble of the thunder.

Valentina

Relief. That was what Valya felt as she made her way slowly down the hallway and tried to clear her head. Boris had been supposed to meet her. It wasn't the first time he'd let her down but... she didn't really feel let down. She felt relieved. And guilty. But only guilty because she felt relieved that her boyfriend had been too busy to meet her.

Rounding the corner, Valya found herself standing and staring at a familiar face but she had to fight through all the emotions in her head before recognition hit her. Calina. A girl in her year. Valya blushed and turned to go but then hesitated, visibly getting a grip on herself. She pressed a smile on to her lips and only then realised that the girl was sleeping. Annoyed with herself, she prepared to go again when Calina's dark, pretty eyes opened lazily and looked up at her.

"Headache?" Valya asked sympathetically. Calina was known to get them quite frequently though Valentina didn't know why.

"Yeah," Calina said. Valya started to feel awkward. Calina was friendly enough but Valya was supposed to be looking for Boris. This could be one of his tests of loyalty. Maybe he was watching her even now, knowing that she felt relieved he hadn't met her. Why did she feel relieved? When Boris was there she always felt so happy and so eager to please him. It was only when he was absent that she wondered why she loved the bully. But she did. She loved him and she couldn't help that.

"Have you seen Boris?" Valentina asked with a sigh. It was stupid. Other people didn't make her feel this weak and silly but Boris... there was something different about him. She kept telling herself it was because she loved him except she didn't feel that way when she wasn't in his presence. She felt... afraid.

Calina

Having been interrupted from her sleepy time, Calina groaned and sniffed, tasting the vomit that's in her mouth as she sluggishly got up to see who the idiot was. At first glance, she noticed the fine, silky red robe that the person was wearing, then the rings, necklace and earrings as she worked her way up. Standing next to her was a tall woman with neatly combed blond hair, pale blue eyes, bright red lips and a plump face.

Calina suddenly felt her heart racing. This student must of have come to thank her for those water squirting sunflowers she helped plant earlier! It was about time someone saw the funny side of being squirted by those plants. Calina was beginning to mutter to herself for what a horrible job she did after she kept seeing students storming out of the garden and cursing as they instantly dried themselves off with their wands.

The woman didn’t have to give her a fancy gem or whatever she has in that expensive looking robe of hers though, but thinking about it made Calina drool as she greeted the woman back with a grin. She was about to tell the woman that there’s no need to reward a farm girl like her with something so priceless when she asked, “Have you seen Boris?”

“B-Boris?” Calina replied, her grin settling into a firm line. “No I haven’t seen Boris today, have you checked outside?”

The woman turned to muse at a window. “No. Should I? I mean he could just be in the library or something.”

Calina clenched her fists. She has just realized that this was Valya, Boris’ supposed squeeze. She had seen the couple fighting in the hallways and heard the rumours. How can a plump girl like Valya fail to please a flea ridden cur like Boris? The girl was filled out completely from her breasts to her hips! Calina stared at her with contempt. Maybe she should stop covering that ripe body of hers with those uptight dresses thought Calina with a smirk. She wasn’t sure if she was the best person to talk to for advice on love, considering all of the boys thought Calina was really really weird.

Calina resumed. “I only saw two students coming by here. One of them was helping that American kid to the hospital and-“

With that thought, Calina shot out of the sofa like a winded-up jack in the box. Boris was at it again, beating defenseless students and thinking that he owns the place. The beatings were becoming more frequent too. Something was wrong.

She moistened her cracked lips before she asked Valya, “Hey, mind if I come along with you to help find Boris?”

It was time to get more information on Boris' latest activities, and of Valya.