Below the deck

He was getting moderately sleepy and a proper time for some undisturbed nap has definitely arrived for Felix, especially after having some conversation on poop deck. Who knows, maybe the older kid will find his true self during his stay at Drumsdrang?

He put aside his musings when he went down the stairs passing spar deck, wait, it seems he took the wrong stairs down. Behind the closed doors that had a small crated window he could see all the spare rigging and spares of the ship there. Then something hit him up in his mind. Spare deck could mean only one thing... gun deck below... a nice, quiet, restricted place where he could catch some nap. Wait, there should be munitions chamber near too and that means some black powder, and that would mean new alchemical component in his possession, not to mention a nice souvenir...

Without much doubt he went downstairs and met closed, reinforced heavy wooden doors. If knew the spell, theory that is, so he resigned from casting it. Accidentally blasting them open would be very bad and losing house points before school starts would be rather counter-creative. His thoughts were cut however when he noticed that the doors were open. That was most unlikely and he doubt that someone just forgot to close it. Realising that someone must be inside we went quietly in making sure to leave the doors the way they were. After all he was just a Firstling and nobody told him he can't come in here.

Gun deck looked just great with wheeled cannons lined on each side lined to hull with heavy lines. Iron cannon shots stocked on piles in low containers, unlit torches and piles of cloth filled this place as if it was only waiting, battle-ready for another cruise. He cursed mentally, there was no good, old, black gun powder barrel in sight, not even one. Knowing that 'munnitions chamber should be at the very end of the deck, behind that full metal doors he could see clearly. He made a step further, calmly, cautiously, listening to surroundings. His nap long forgotten, all that mattered was a pouch of black powder. Glad that he always had an unused, empty pouch or three with him he went ahead.

If Millicent ever knew there was a world beneath the deck, then she would have gone there.

Clearly, the brunette didn't.

No one could blame the youngest Prentiss alive for that, though. No one had told her about it, and even if Charles knew about it there was no way in hell he was ever going to tell her, especially with that argument about finding the used condoms in the dishwasher, which was technically Emilia Prentiss's fault but the Prentiss children had to clean up anyway, and wondering what the hell to do with them. That argument had ended up with Charles using gloves to dispose of the condoms and Millicent meticulously cleaning the sink with gloves and about a million dishrags.

Merlin, she refused to think about that day without shivering.

The only reason that the German almost-teenager had found the downstairs of the ship was because she got too bored in her original cabin and decided to march down so that she could find something interesting to brag to her future housemates about. Especially if it was something unheard of, or at least something few people know of. It was no secret that Millicent loved having bragging rights, even if people didn't really care about them. Having something stupid to brag about, for the young girl, was better than having nothing at all.

She was that selfish.

Dexterously, the young girl let her feet lead her to what was the ship's hull, that she was sure of. She had full trust in them, due to her unnatural elegance which made it rare for her to trip over anything. Upon arriving, she was unpleasantly surprised to find that there was another boy there.

"You know about this place too?" she called, her voice cold and uninviting.

Felix was just half a way to reaching his destination when he heard somebody going down the stairs. Classically, his luck.

He slowly turned around to face the person who dared to interrupt his sacred mission. A bit surprisingly finding a girl maybe his year speaking with that familiar tone he used to had when he was most unpleasant with something. How ironic. Nonetheless, what was done was done and right now he was facing her, an interrupter. Luckily, she appeared young so the possibility was she was not a prefect and the question was rather one of disappointment than accusation, so yes, he was lucky.

"Yes, I do know about this place and by that I mean whole ship with which I am quite familiar." he said in a cold and calm voice, the one his father used when dealing with incompetent staff. Actually, what he said was half-truth, he know the design of this ship far too well, just now he was exploring it and confirming his research from several days ago. What a damn smart ass he was.

"I presume I have not had a pleasure of meeting you before?" he asked kindly with that blank, emotionless expression marking his features, clearly unimpressed by her sudden appearance in his now freshly claimed domain. After all, he claimed it by conquest of discovery by being here first and she arrived here second.

The brunette sharply proclaimed, "You're this familiar with a ship you've only boarded once?" Stupid bastard. Honestly, people were so stupid. Then again, no one had the childhood she had, in which she grew up faster than she would have liked in which she learned about these kinds of things. From experience and lectures, the girl knew that it took more tan once to fully know something, no matter how perceptive they happened to be - if Leon Prentiss, the Late World's Greatest Conman couldn't do it, who could anyone? Even if they were specially trained to do so, no mind could be that quick to react.

"No offense, but that's such a lie," Millicent announced, letting footsteps accompany her words like how a piano often plays the harmony of the violin-player. "You cannot be that familiar with this ship. Not with a ship you're only going to use, at most, six times a year to fetch you places. You can have the design in the ship's hull from the founding of Durmstrang to now but nothing will ever compare to the real thing. You have to experience it before you're truly familiar with something. You have to touch it, feel it, taste it, smell it, sense it with your eyes closed."

Merlin, she loved being a smartass.

Her feet breaking into a small tap dance, Millicent sang, "I don't think I've had the not-so-great pleasure to meet you either." She flicked a portion of her hair so it tumbled across her developed chest. "Not like you're any different from the lovers who were fighting upstairs. The quarrel was so boring I decided to screw staying put and traverse the damn ship."

It was hard to admit, really hard to be precise but for some odd reason he did like that damn smartass of a girl. A bit to blunt for his taste she was, but definitely she was well to old in her soul just like him, but what could she possibly know being so self-absorbed in that cute little perception of her betraying her damn well too much developed ego and deep hurt that marks her of from normal society and well defined age group? He didn't know what exactly happened to her so she became like that. Not that he was curious, he wasn't. That's her life, her past, her deamons to be faced, not his. Those who waste their energy on others weaken themselves, for what good is helping those who don't have strength to face the world on their own? None, and he had none of that.

"Quite perceptive of you my dear. However, you do not know me and by the looks of it you will never have the proper mental capability of doing so. Of course, it may change, but I am sceptical. Going back to familiarity with this ship. Being as smart and well-versed as you are I wouldn't be surprised if you already know this, but there are different levels, or layers of familiarity and at this moment, both of us are far ahead of many of those that attend Drumsdrang now and before." He said almost uninterested. He disliked talking a lot and explaining basics to anyone. Not like she know any basics beside those she took along with her which were much different form his. If only grandpa could see this exchange. He bet the old man would be laughing like a madman.

"Now pardon me miss bookworm dancer, but I am going to the door over there.." He said calmly stressing every word as if she speak little English indicating with his head the door to munnitions chambers "..to expirience another part of this beautiful ship." And then he made a step toward aforementioned door dismissing her presence. Gunpowder and possibly some musket rounds or whatever was there was more interesting than nonesense chat that would lead to gaining an unwanted attention from ship's staff, or worse Durmsdrang Staff...

Noticing some blood runes on one of the cannons he thought briefly about what his veneric elder said about blood magic. Quickly realising he did not said a thing about runes he mentally promised himself to ask him about it later, or maybe even send him an owl.

"Are you calling me thick?" Millicent retaliated, her voice beginning to sharpen. She wasn't the sort to clench her fists or to give someone a great slap on the face if she was angered by them, and fortunately she was no Metamorphmagus so no part of her could really reveal her anger. Instead, when she was drunk with malignant rage, she would go on a roll of insults, most likely in German or her mother's native tongue of Gaelic. Her brows would often furrow when she was being insulted. "*Dummer Junge!" began the brunette, "für wen hältst du mich? Irgendeine Art von Dorfmädchen, die nie zur Schule gegangen? Verdammt! Offensichtlich sind Sie das Dorf, Junge. Natürlich habe ich die mentale Fähigkeit, Freundschaften zu schließen!"

The fact that his tone made him sound disinterested made everything worse. Had there been a chair there Millicent would not have hesitated to kick it down, harshly and without restrain.

"Why am I bookworm dancer now?" asked the blonde, her rage slowly turning into a cool drawl. Yet none but imbeciles couldn't tell she was still extremely pissed at the other boy. She then kicked the wooden floor and shrugged her shoulders. "Why not explore the ship with an idiotic bastard? Sounds like a great itinerary to me." The guns really tempted her. If she could she would just pick up one of the ones on show and...

There was no way in hell she was going to make her family sound even more terrible than it already was.

Running her fingers through her hair, the brunette found that the boy was staring at the runes on the walls. She rolled her eyes. "Fucking languages," she spat, mostly to herself. No offense to anthropologists, she thought, but for me, languages are a pile of dirt everyone has to step on to make it through life.

---

* Stupid boy! Who do you think I am? Some sort of village girl that never went to school? Damn you! Obviously, you are the village boy. Of course I have the mental capability to make friends!

It would be hard to admit, but at this very particular moment she impressed him. Not many people their age know more than their own language. No, he wasn't going to admit it. There was no point in it, because he doubt she would get calmer and she sounded so great speaking german, just like it was her native language. Maybe it was. That would explain things... "*Bist du zufällig Deutsch? Weil Ihre Sprache ist schön meine Liebe." He said calmly, as always. He wasn't fond of giving compliment, but she did impress him a bit. Maybe she was not that dumb?

He was standing now in front of those heavy door that separated him from his destination, munnitions chambers and all those wonders that were there closed from the public. He just hoped her little loud behaviour from seconds ago won't attract any unnecessary attention. Well, guys on the deck were a bit loud, and he could hear faintly those lovers she mentioned earlier so yeah, there was a possibility that her small outburst would go unnoticed.

He checked the door trying to open them. No luck, were dead locked and he didn't want to blast them with spell, nor force them, not that would be possible.. "**D'anam don diabhal! Glacfar na doirse faoi ghlas.." He said indifferently. Those doors were driving him more mad than the girl that was somewhere here in this room. How could them be locked? What? Somebody went into gun deck and forgot to close the damn doors? Unbelievable!

---

* Are you by chance German? Because your language is beautiful my dear.

** Your soul to devil! Those doors are locked..

"Meine Liebe?" repeated the girl, somewhat sobering from her anger. She found a small roll of parchment, picked it up and threw it across the room. She didn't care if it was valuable or not. She needed something to vent her rage with. "Dummer Junge!" echoed the girl, her voice picking up its ringing tones again, "first, I'm not mentally capable. Then, I'm Miss Bookworm Dancer, then all of a sudden I'm liebe?" Furiously, she stomped her foot on the floor. "To hell with Godric, how indecisive are you?" She stepped back from the boy, wishing she had physical strength like her father to torture him, but she didn't.

Stop hoping, Millicent. You have to start working on that one day.

She hated hoping and wishing; if she did so, it made her feel too vulnerable than she could ever possibly be. Vulnerability was a liability to everyone, but not as much as it was to her.

The girl then practically growled when the boy announced that the doors were locked. Oh fuuuuck... And in Irish of all languages. "*Labhraíonn tú Gaeilge freisin?" asked the girl, "agus shíl mé go raibh mé an ceann amháin." She pranced around the spot where she was standing so that her feet didn't feel like it was chained to one spot. "Ní mór duit a bheith ina Dhia teanga nó rud éigin." The girl then decided to pick up an Irish accent, just to amuse herself. "Me mam was Irish, pure Irish from Eire."

---

* You speak Irish too? And I thought I was the only one. You must be a language God or something.

He looked at her blankly. Seems like he hit the nail in the coffin, accidently though... Seems there was more to her than he could imagine and that made her, in a way, even more interesting, if only he would care. He didn't, not much anyway, not yet and propably not soon..

"Vieti mele..." he whispered before swinging his head slightly left and right and then once again looking at her with that blank expression. "It is not that I am *nehotărât. Ich habe lediglich zu Situation anpassen" He shrugged slightly his shoulders "I came downstairs to rest, but found this gun deck. I could carry on with my original plan and take a nap, or take the best value of this unique possibility to explore a deck that was accidently left open." Then he looked stright at her as if It could strengthen his point of view "**Bin ich unentschlossen? Nein, ich angepasst und nehmen den profitabelsten Strecke."

She was so impulsive, as if there was much anger, hate and pent up pain in her that craved to be released, but she was too proud to admit it. Admit that she got her weakness, or... Nevermind, he still missed a lot pieces to make a clear picture of this riddle in front of him.

"***Tá gach a fhios agam go Bunúsach phioc mé suas agus iad ag taisteal le mo athair.." He said calmly, a taint of honesty managed to slip past his emotionless voice, but soon was eliminated "..so I would appreciate If you could go soft on me. I may understand most of it but I am far from being native like."

Then a sudden realisation hit him.. did he just heard a sound of rolling perchment? Perchment!? "Have I just heard a perchment falling?" he asked looking at her expectantly. If anyone knew anything that would be her, but if she doesn't... then they were not alone.

---

*indecisive. I simply adjust to situation.

**Am I indecisive? No, I adapt and make the most profitable route.

***All I know are basics I picked up while traveling with my father.

"Whoa... did you just mix German and Irish?" Millicent questioned, after listening to him speak. His articulation was different when he spoke the distinct human tongues: German made him sound harsher, Irish somewhat kinder than his bland monotone. "Do you have any idea how odd you sound when you mix two such diverse languages like that?" She was intrigued by the mix, however, so she mentally noted that she must try speaking like that sometime, but definitely not in front of this boy.

His eyes feeling as if they were boring into hers, the sharp tongue retaliated. "*Sie nennen sich anpassungsfähig?" she began, her cool drawl beginning to heat once more, "nun, mein Spitzname bei wechselnden so rasant ist dumm - idiotisch, auch! Sie müssen nicht mit einem Prentiss, schmutzige Junge durcheinander bringen!" Oh Salazar. Now he knew her last name. To attempt and clear up her mistake, Millicent flicked her hair once more, brown curls landing on her back.

She plastered a smile on her face, letting her words fly faster than an aeroplane.

"** Bhuel ansin. Ansin, ní bheidh tú ag labhairt miste liom ag an luas i nGaeilge nach mbeadh, tá tú?" she began, then took a deep breath and began the next part of her torture. "Ceart go leor ansin, beidh mé ar aghaidh. Lig dom a insint duit go bhfuil dóigh liom go bhfuil tú an-tiubh agus ba chóir duit a chaitheamh i bpríosún agus caith an eochair ar shiúl."

The brunette couldn't help but clap. "Well done, you can see," she remarked sarcastically, "I just threw parchment all the way over there. Somewhere."

---

* You call yourself indecisive? Well, changing my nickname at such a rapid pace is stupid - idiotic, even! You don't mess with a Prentiss, filthy boy!

** Well then. Then you won't mind me speaking at this pace in Irish, wouldn't you? Alright then, I shall continue. Let me tell you that I think you're very thick and you should be thrown in jail and throw away the key.

A small smile graceg his lips looking most off place when compared to the rest of his facial features and that uninterested expression of eyes. She was amusing. She was so conflicted on the inside that she could literally betray herself when thrown on the edge and burst into barrage of insults and hurt pride. Pride. He need to check her last name, Prentis... not sure if he had heard it before.. most unlikely, but an owl to father, possibly mother and grandpa was in place. At least something interesting happened to let then be informed, keep them happy of by keeping in touch with them.

"*Deci, fie că este vorba" He said serenely. The longer he was in her presence the stronger he could feel it. That person hidden deep inside of her, or maybe it was just an illusion. Thy were wizarda and witches, and magic was not making things easier. Even then, he felt like he was starting to get a grasp of what's going on with her rather unconsciously than anything else.

"**Ich erinnere mich nicht mir selbst sagen, ich bin unentschlossen, aber wenn Sie ein Bücherwurm lieber Tänzerin werden macht mir nichts aus." He said politely, letting his emotionless monotone drop slightly. There will be a time when he shall be a pain later. After all they were to have classes together. Ironically, that will be the time when both, she and he will be most vulnerable untill they get accustomed to new schoolish environment. "Warum sollte mich das interessieren?" An eyebrow moved slightly in a controlled manner to encompass his words, he didn't trust her to show her his true self. Would he ever, that was a good question. Unlikely. Then he was saying a bit warmer, not much, just on the border of perception, all learnt and controlled, because on the inside he felt most empty, stoic and unmoved, but as his father said him once 'The one who does not master his feelings is a slave to them'. Thing is, young Felix was sometimes too good at that for his own good. "Aus irgendeinem seltsamen Grund scheint es, würde es Ihnen passen." Then unknowingly to himself he said the next words slightly stressing them as if they were important "Du bewegst dich mit Anmut und neigen dazu, ein Klugscheißer, ein schöner Klugscheißer sein, wenn ich sagen kann, aber das macht nichts. Spielt es eine Rolle meine Liebe?"

Then, out of nowhere he realised what he had said mere seconds ago. What was done was done. It did feel right to say, but his more logical part was not so sure of her reaction, or rather, was. Still, it was some form of justification of his, so called by her, 'indecisiveness'.. Gods, why girls were so problematic?

---

*So be it (Romanian)

**I don't recall myself saying I am indecisive, but if you prefer to be a bookworm dancer I don't mind. Why should I care? For some odd reason it seems it would fit you. You move with grace and tend to be a smartass, a beautiful smartass if I may say, but that doesn't matter. Does it matter my dear?

"I'm sorry," deadpanned the girl, "I don't speak Romanian." Though she never told him she could write it - albeit terribly. She wasn't one to ask what it means rather than to note it down and check with a dictionary later. The only other thought in her mind was about this boy right in front of her. It wasn't in a romantic manner like some girls might do, but it was more of a sort of interest... as if she knew that she should look out for him once they both enter Durmstrang. She vaguely wondered if they would be housemates, though she knew chances of that were slim considering their conflicting personalities. Then again...

Ironically, despite it being her native tongue, speaking German was tiresome. She'd rather hear people speak rather than mutter it herself. She rested her head on her chin as she listened to him speak. It was just him rattling on and on about her being indecisive. She was used to people complimenting her in that way, after all. Some of the boys back in Germany used to whistle at her everytime they cam near her which was damn rude not to mention it made her feel as if they were out to rape her, and they probably were. Thank Merlin the boy couldn't feel her trembling at the thought.

The next paragraph Felix uttered - particularly about the part of her made Millicent's heart skip a beat not because she found it a compliment, but because she found that someone could just say that about her even after one meeting. Her lip twitched for a moment to form a smirk before switching back into its rudimentary position. There was no fucking way she would say thank you. Well, who knew it just took a few sharp words by the girl to make someone minutely consider her beautiful? Of course, she had inserted 'minutely considered' because this was just meeting they had. Who knew if he fell for another girl once he set foot on Durmstrang soil?

Not like she didn't enjoy the attention he gave her. Leon once said that any attention from someone of the opposite sex was good, especially if they were physically appealing.

That, she could say about the boy.

The silence began to curl in the girl's veins, and it irked her. She hated it when it happened. Running her fingers through her hair, the girl found it in her frozen heart to walk over and gently pick up the piece of parchment. Her expression remained neutral, or at least she tried to make it look that way. Even though no one was talking and that haunted her, at least her footsteps dampened some of the silence. Walking over to him, making sure she was at least a yard away, the brunette placed the parchment in the boy's hands. "Well, you wanted it," she assumed, "I suppose you want to be the one opening it."

He was watching her calmly and carefully. There was much mixed things, much gaps he could not figure out and even more turns and dead ends that make no sense. It was actually nice, a girl so closed in herself that she stands in contradiction at some points. Why was she like that was probably the best thing to figure out. Some more good old muggle books on the science of psychology to study was in order. He already could feel the headache but it would be worth it. Knowledge was always worth it. It gave advantage and made people look up to you for answers. It made things predictable, so that you could prepare in time for things to come. It opened your mind so that things came easier, because you could see connections between seemingly unrelated objects... Point was, he was young and that was heavy knowledge, enough heavy to make his head hurt but it was so worth it. Knowledge was power after all. power that you could use wandlessly and mostly non-verbally.

"I do want to open it.." he said calmly taking the parchment from her and opening it with years of experience in one swift move, then he placed the parchment back into her hands and put his behind his back "..but I would like you to read it out loud. After all you found it"

Her small suppressed twitch of her lip from before, the way she was resting her head on her chin. As always there was much more to her than she let to express. He could almost tell that she was vaguely listening to him enclosed in some sort of thought or memory. It would be good for her to take Occlumency classes. He could tell that it would help her. because she was so obviously a mess inside and at least a little bit of order would do marvels for her. He on the other side wanted to take Occlumency for other reasons. To explain the gaps in his memory, to salvage as much as he could and possibly to reinforce his mind's stronghold. A weak minded leader? He would have none of that. His destiny was o excel in all things and be on the top of it all. That was his destiny and e would do everything to make it happen and knew it requested him to compromise at some points but that how it was. The question was, was the most intriguing girl in front of him with him or not. He would be happy to help her on his way to the top, if she was, of course.

Millicent didn't quite believe it when the boy opened the parchment, yet he chose her to read it. She was incredulous for two reasons: a) She was not to be entrusted with precious things, which was usually a terrible notion; and b) Considering the fact that she didn't trust him, the brunette thought that he had entrusted to her some sort of cursed parchment. "You sure?" she queried, before shrugging her shoulders, and her eyes immediately began to traverse the parchment in a rushed manner.

But they did so like a lost puppy.

"What the fuck?" muttered the future Uchitel, staring in bewilderment at the text - or pictures, more like - that was written (or drawn, whichever one chooses to look at it) across it. She tilted the dusty old thing this way and that, and no matter what she did, nothing made sense. Millie did remember making a coded page of hieroglyphics, but those were her own signature hieroglyphics which she was sure the Vikings nor the Egyptians used, and the message on it was, 'Happiness is the key to life.' (Merlin, she was such a John Lennon freak.) It was practically child's play, compared to this. Hold on a second - it was child's play, considering she did it as a five-year-old, still naive, blind, unimportant in the eyes of the universe. Truth be told, she still was, but her maturity has lead her to become ten times more important than she was as a child, and even then it was still minute. She knew that the universe could still snatch her happiness, her sanity, and even her life at any given minute. She didn't give a flying fuck about that, because despite all the things she wanted to do and never got to overpowered the things she had done, she was ready.

It was odd, for Millicent to be so contemplative, but as short-sighted as she seems, she is not. Even though this puzzles were better solved by a pair of Muggle, history-obsessed freaks, she thought that it would be so much more fitting if she and this boy solved this mystery - oh Godric, she can't believe she's actually pondering this - together. As long as she gets to decipher this encryption and hope for the life of her it's something useful to her and the other brunette's exit of this blessed hull, then she wouldn't mind spending extra hours with him. She hadn't a grudge against him, yet.

"What's your name?" the girl announced, beckoning the boy to come towards her, "do you know how to read these silly letters? I hope to Merlin that this piece of shit can get us out of here."

It made him want to smile, but being him he quickly quenched this small desire to do so. The look of bewilderment on her face when she cursed starring at the most old of all parchments he had saw in his life was most amusing. Of course, he predicted it would be something she would not be able to read. Parchment was just damn old. He was not an expert but it had at least... a lot of decades, maybe centuries, but like everything on this deck was preety much well preserved.

He come to her standing close enough to read with ease, which was preety much close, yet not that close to touch her in any way. He didn't like to touch people much, nor being touched. Apart of his family he barely accepted the touch of greeting each other wen that was required. That was his personal boundary, his sacrum and he didn't like it being invaded without his consent.

He raised an eyebrow in a silent manner of showing his surprise. There was something that resembled hieroglyps, but was more cursive and seemed as if each logogram was made at least of two different ones creating one complex glymph. There were some small cursive markings on left side of each 'picture' as if a modifier. He had no idea what was it, but surely that was something odd. Odd enough that it resembled old egyptian hieroglyphs with western images and a cursive of some odd type resembling a bit of hieroglyphs. Two different old logogramic languages with a writen modifier? How screwed it was and what was the message behind it? What was so important to code it like that? It was beyond him.

"Marten, Felix Marten" He said half consciously still absorbed by the mystery of the parchment. "It seems like some sort of western logogramic language and egyptian hieroglyphs create those pictures. Two or more distinct logograms a picture with a quick hieroglyph related cursive on left side of each picture." He said calmly, absentmindedly. "School's library should have some information on this ships voyages. If by any case it went to egypt we are on good track. Still... do you think some clues may be behind those door?" He looked at her in wonder before looking at supposed doors to munnitions chambers. "Looks important to me."

There was no way for him to admit it, but that parchment quite absorbed him, yet he was not going to forget his objective of getting into that locked chamber... Possibility that a clue to this riddle would be there only reinforced his desire to get there. Now, or later, it didn't matter. He wanted to get there, with her, possibly, she would make a good ally if... but then... He knew it would not be easy to make her trust him and keep that delicate balance. She was like a barrel of gun powder, caution most advised and better not play with fire near..

"Marten?" Millicent echoed, something vital lighting up in her memory, "a name of a North American and Eurasian mammal. People used to hunt it for its fur." She paused, reminiscing about her marten. "I had a marten once," she muttered nonchalantly, looking at the boy even though she wasn't really talking to him, "I was like, six. Daddy got it for me as a birthday present and I took damn good care of it It grew big and strong like any healthy animal should." She then laughed bitterly, "Do you know what happened to it, Felix?" She paused for dramatic effect. "My brother killed it. That son of a bitch."

What really happened was something a little different.

One summer day, Millicent was busy feeding her marten some food. She couldn't remember exactly what it was, but it was food. Her brother came outside probably to annoy her; it was a habit of his to taunt her after he had finished school, and Milli was used to it, somewhat. Sure, there were days when the teasing was just horrible, but from then she had lived another day. That day, however, not only triggered her so-called unexplained hatred for her brother, it also triggered another side of her that had once been unseen. Sure, she had the sharp tongue she'd obtained, but she was never particularly cruel until that incident.

The incident began with Charles poking his sister abruptly in the ribs. She had retaliated by standing on the tips of her toes and flailing her fists about, trying to aim a punch at him. She never actually hit him, due to the fact that he dodged her fists without a hitch. That really pissed her off. Because she was so distracted and so indignant, she didn't notice Charles's fleeting fingers reach around her and unlock her marten's cage. This angered and terrified the girl, who immediately squealed once she saw her marten leap out of its cage and watched as the ground swallowed its legs.

Even though she saw her marten jump at this height and survive, when she saw how hard the ground had hit him, she decided that perhaps he was just lucky, that time. She ran towards its carcass, fingering his skin, only to find it stone cold.

That was when her beating heart began to turn to a useless lump of ice.

"What sort of clues behind a stupid set of doors can get us out of here?" Millie paused, and then something dawned on her. Why am I such an idiot?

She then quickly scuttled towards the door, thanking Morgana that it had a keyhole. She commenced inspecting it carefully with her right, more adept eye. She then pulled back, acquiring a hair pin from her pocket, and fitted in into the door. She frowned when she realized that it didn't fit in the way it should, but then she tipped the pin slightly to the left, and smirked when she fitted it in.

Pushing the pin deeper into the keyhole, the brunette began to work her usual magic. She tilted the pin this way and that until she found the inner workings of the keyhole. She pushed it back gently with her hairpin, but it bounced forward again. At this, she growled.

"Almost... there..." she muttered, still struggling with the pin. That may or may not have been a cue for Felix to come over, but whatever choice he chooses, she was sure she can solve this puzzle on her own.

He listened to her patiently. It was quite obvious that this memory was affecting her greatly and it did might have been one of those few memories that made her the way she was right now, so interrupting her she was reminiscing on it unawares would be most stupid. After all she was showing a part of herself that he would bet she would rather keep to herself. Another small piece to solving of the mystery of this girl added. He felt bad for her a bit. Witnessing a death of beloved pet, and a marten of it all must have hit her really bad. It was hard to imagine what would he do if that happened to him, having a pet killed by a member of one's family, even if it was accidentally. Yes, It would hit him bad really bad. Not to mention the way she pronounced the word 'brother' sounded like she really hated him. There must have been more to it.

"You brother killed it?" he asked calmly, a thin tone of sadness marking his voice. "Then you got quite an arse of a brother." Marten was always a merry species the way they played and socialize, went on hunting and communicated made him happy whenever he was visiting the branch of his family in Poland who still were fostering the tradition. That was his family history dating long into middle ages when they were who they were, trappers at first then breeders for fur of this animal. Then during Victorian era in England his family's English branch was trying to conduct selective breeding of marten to create a magical species of it. Those experiments ended with success almost two decades later. Needless to say, there were so much resources spend, research conducted and a lot of magical blood infused into poor little things bodies before the results come into fruition and a new species was created that it was a miracle that saved the English branch from bankruptcy. Magical marten, suitable for being a companion and loyal loving familiar. Also valued for it's expansive waterproof, breathable fur that provided high magical protection from hostile weather and cold. After all it was all about the money. It always was.

That way there were tree main branches of his family, Breeders in England, Poland and Russia, then there were Craftsmen mostly in Russia and Germany. The branch to which he had belonged originated from Netherlands. Merchants, or rather former breeders and craftsmen to be correct, that bought their way into the world of trade and politics, but forever carrying the taint of their not so noble past.

Of course, she wasn't supposed to know anything of this. Definitely not now. After all, he didn't want to upset her with a notion of his family still being breeding those little lovely animals for fur. Not to mention that this was a rather private thing for him and as much as he was starting to like this girl he was far from trusting her.

Then her question caught him off guard. More so when she quickly scuttled towards the door and if he was not mistaken.. was she just trying to pick up a lock? Unbelieving he walked calmly toward her taking a parchment with him carefully folding it and placing in one of his pouches. After all it was much valuable.

"You know I don't really believe that what I see is what I see is true..." he said calmly after she muttered those words of her standing on her side. " ..where did you learnt it? You do seem to have a knack for it" He added softly, mentally taking a note to learn an unpickable spell, just in case. Not only she was beautiful and smart, but sneaky to top it... at least somebody exciting... wait? What? He meant dangerous, definitely dangerous, he had to be even more careful...

"I know he is," laughed the girl, though it wasn't the bitter laugh she was accustomed to projecting. It was a different sort: the warm, fuzzy chuckle that she was more often than not terrified of. Hearing it made her jump, though with her eyes merely blinking like they normally should (though perhaps a fraction longer, but even someone as perceptive as she was wouldn't notice) she did a particularly good job of hiding her surprise. No one had made her convulse like this in three years.Three very long years, since that boy in that Polish school with the messy hair and the beautiful, refined smirk of his...

The memories were still too defined in her mind. She remembered walking through the corridors, seeing his warm face. Hey, he'd say. Hello, she'd reply. Then they would talk about the most amazing things, and she'd just have the time of her life without feeling as if she was being judged.

Oh Gods, she can't possibly think of him now.

"Anyway," she pressed on, "my arse of a brother actually has one thing that I don't - a girlfriend!" She burst out laughing - this time one of her more sarcastic ones. "I wouldn't want a boyfriend, anyway. I have to tell him every single thing that I do or what I say and I have to tell him everything that I'm thinking." She rolled her eyes due to her chagrin of ever dating anyone, "I cannot stand being attached to one person for a long period of time. I mean, don't you get this feeling when you're with a person you feel too intimate and too claustrophobic?" She shuddered.

The hairpin was really getting on her nerves now, but in her mind she was thinking of the first time she had ever unlocked a lock with a pin or a clip or anything of the like. That was with her father, when she was around six years old. She remembered inspecting an old doorknob her father had found in an abandoned building (and dislodged out of the door frame somehow), whose locking system was as easy as fuck; she had unlocked the thing (with her father's guidance, she mentally added). She remembered using a magnifying glass to carefully inspect the keyhole and choose which method to unlock it with, but now she simply didn't have that luxury. If only she had brought her glasses with her, they might make a good enough lens to carefully see through the damn keyhole, but nooo... she had to be narcissistic and leave them in her trunk. Which was upstairs. In the cabin.

Oh Merlin help her.

"If you know who my family truly are, then you'd know how I know how to pick locks, have a brown belt in karate, and most importantly, why I'm a stuck up bitch," mumbled the girl as she watched the chains in the keyhole recoil back and forth. She tilted her hairpin once more, then nodded; it wasn't a perfect fit unless it was forced. She groaned before taking another hairpin from her hair, letting the hair that had been held up tumble down across her back. She flicked the stray hair back and inserted the pin into the hole.

It fit.

"Fuck yes!" cheered the girl, and began to push the chains here and there, not wasting any time and she squealed - a very childlike squeal - once she heard the familiar click of accomplishment.

Millicent stood up straight, and tousled her hair so that it would messier, and overall, sexier (at least she felt so in her mind's eye). She then turned the doorknob, the metal cool on her palm. The light majestically cascaded towards the room, and the future Uchitel sighed merrily at the sight of light. "Oh glorious sun!" she sang, prancing around the room, "what would I do without you?"

Uncharacteristically, the brunette tripped on her own feet, falling rapidly to the ground. Her heart began to beat faster than what was healthy, and her breath began to hitch in fear.

He was looking calmly as she all the time tried to pick up the lock. He knew by her behaviour that she wasn't joking about that attempt. She was more one of those that take pride in what they do and don't take failure lightly, that was if he was right.

Next thing she said about her boyfriend shook him a bit. Here she was, talking his language. What was the point in so called relationship? None.
"No matter how you look at this this all boyfriend-girlfriend is pretty much useless." He commented a bit bitterly "Not only you are bound to make regular confessions, but as more you get attached the more you get dependent and then it develops into jealousy..." He sighed rolling his eyes slightly "Relationships are pretty much overrated don't you think?" He laughed a bit thinking about it "That's why I don't care even looking. What's going to be, will. Why force things? Just to show off, or just because 'it is proper'? Stupidity."

So she did liked to brag a bit... After all that family talk make him a bit curious, but there was no way he would admit it. Admitting it would be a weakness and with all that information that she so voluntarily provided, (for which he was much grateful to her, even if unsure if he should take it as a sign of slowly developing trust) along with her surname he could easily find more on her and her family from his father or grandfather. They always seem to know too much when it goes down to intelligence. The only drawback was, it was a mutual thing. No matter he was a family, a son, a grandson, they would like to know as much about things in Drumsdrang, and first lesson his grandpa gave him was that of knowledge and power.

To make things short the moral was simple and quite blunt Knowledge is power, and true adept never share power. It meant that knowledge was most precious commodity available for trade, because sometimes a small information changed whole understanding. The clearer the view, the easier to make profitable decisions and avoid death-traps and dead-ends.

He had to admit, she looked well, really well in loose hair. Maybe because it gave her that more natural, girly look, or maybe because his mother was usually having her hair loos, unless at work that is.. but that didn't count. His musings were stopped however by her swearing followed by a... squeal?? Wait, what? She just..? He was left just speechless. He didn't expect it was possible, but then she did it and he liked it. She was just natural, or at last close to it. No, it was natural, just like that prancing and singing.

Looking at her closely in slight disbelief he barely noticed in time how she tripped and reacted by reflex alone quickly making a step towards her and grabbing her hand pulling her towards him. All would be perfect if it was not for some sort of cloth on a floor that was probably used to clean the cannons because it was much slippery, so that he slipped on it when his boot made a connection with it. A friction of seconds later it was he falling on the floor with her following him. The only thing that he would do was to unconsciously turn midair the way that he would hit the deck the same place that she would thus enabling her to land on top of him.

Gladly, Millicent agreed willingly with the boy, "I know right?" She twiddled with her thumbs, but then she paused when she realized there was something the boy said which she didn't completely understand. "What do you mean, a relationship developing into jealousy?" she questioned, her ears alert. Now, this conversation was a high priority. Even though she wasn't one to care about her own relationships, she did care about her brother's sanity. She didn't like him when he was happy, but when he was upset that irritated her even more. Considering the chances of Charles's relationship turning sour was greater than she'd like, she must truly understand Felix's statement.

"Have your parents ever tried to betroth you to anyone?" questioned the girl, realizing that the question made her sound as if she was interested in him. She mentally slapped herself on the cheek for that. Of course she had no want to associate with him in that manner! Enemies? Definitely. Friends? Perhaps. Lovers? Fuck it. "I'm only asking because a lot of parents nowadays tend to y'know, try and get their children to marry other pureblood families to keep their blood pure and all of that shit. And plus, if you're betrothed, you don't get to explore the fun side of Durmstrang." The brunette smirked, clearly implying about flirting and casual relationships that she hoped to experience.

Perhaps she'll even get that light feeling in her stomach now.

As she began to fall, gravity was certainly against her because even with her hair supposed to slow down the impact she fell at a rate too fast to get back on her feet safely. She felt someone grab her hand, and she knew that could only be Felix. She thought that would save her from the hard thud she'd get when she cracks her skull on the floor, but soon enough, she could still feel the air fighting against her, letting the ground swallow her up.

Dammit, did Felix trip up too?

"Fuck you!" she yelled, though she really didn't really directed at Felix rather than the floor or the air around her. As her eyes zoomed across the ground she found a cleaning cloth, then her eyes widened when she found that was the substance that led to Felix's, and subsequently her, demise.

"Fuck you, cloth!"

She then felt Felix turn, so automatically that meant she had to turn with him, thanks to Newton's Law, or was it Einstein's Law? Whatever, their law said this happened when someone turned and sadly they were correct. She screamed as she did so, and her head landed sideways with a thud on Felix's chest. Her breath halted, her nerves rising. The more grateful part of her wanted to hug him and it told her that at least she didn't fracture the skull, but the larger part of her only asked one question: Why the fuck did he try to save her, and why did he dare let her fall?

Her head rose from his chest, her arms trying to massage them in an attempt to cure them of their pain. Instead, she merely looked at the boy in front of her. Her fingers reached out to ruffle his hair, and noticing its fine texture on her fingers. She then wittily muttered towards him, "If this happened under different circumstances, I might actually kiss you." She then rested her head atop his chest, merely observing him.

"Jealousy?" He asked with amusement marking his eyes for a split second. How couldn't she grasp the concept of jealousy? Well, yeah, he couldn't few years ago, before he met his grandfather. e smiled gently remembering his grandfather's words and moulding them into more breakable points before speaking. it didn't take long, a mere seconds but still the silence and his obvious time for forming his words was clear as a tear for everybody to see. "Jealousy happens when whoever gets attached and dependant on somebody to the point of considering them to be their exclusive property. It is a trap of attachment." He said calmly before explaining some more "Jealously in small doses in not bad, actually it tends to be a relationship saver. However, things change when it goes over it, or the other person is more... open-minded about the relationship. Then it is a disaster."

He laughed a bit thinking about all the complications of attachment his grandpa taught him. He just hoped she would understand the next words he was about to say. Words of his grandfather, words that were the very soil of his being. "When you get attached, you start to feel fear of losing the object of your attachment. Soon, fear is followed by pain of doubt. When not reassured and calmed, pain breads anger, a feeling of hopelessness..." He was saying all of this calmly, without much care in the world. Just poor soul that don't know about rewards of detachment and dangers of commitment "It goes all down the path to hatred and possessiveness which destroys any positive emotion between people. That's why I stand detached. It's the safest and most rewarding route." He finished calmly. Why waste his time on being angry or saddened when he could just let it go and live his life without worries?

Her question about being betrothed really amused him. Of course his parents tried to force him into such a contract. Not even once, but several times in his life. "Of course they tried... and failed." he said pride marking his voice. "Even if it would turn down to it that I would get into such a contract I doubt it would make any sense. Being betrothed is not a marriage. Until that I am my own person and I can do what I want, can't I?" That's how it was. Rules were to be understood and comprehended so that they would be bent the way that suits you. That was all, nothing else.

She sure swears a to he thought to himself swearing once again and then a memory flashed in front of his eyes. The one where he was eavesdropping a group of college muggle boys talking about swearing girls... Merlin, why now of all places?


When he hit the deck, he grunted slightly. Damn it. What was most surprising was the fact she was on top of him. How did it happened he had no idea but he had to say she felt nice and he really meant it. Wait. No, he didn't. It was just that it was nice to have that contrast between of her soft and warm body and that forsaken cold and hard deck.

What really surprised him was her hands reaching towards his hair and her muttered words. What the in the nine corellian hells was with this girl? he didn't know, but his heart skipped up a bit and he said those words quietly, looking at her on resting on him his hand softy playing with a lock of her hair. "How about you close your eyes and tell me how would those different circumstances look like?"

He had two options, all depending on her reaction to his words. Not too much conscious ones to be honest, but it was more like an instinct kicking in, so he would a) if she decided to close her eyes, kiss her softly. She brought it first after all, he just followed the lead didn't he? or b) move a little bit closer to her lips parting his lips slightly in a welcoming manner and looking her warm in the eyes. Damn it. He really was a fool to even fool himself.

Millicent firmly nodded, a sign to show that yes, she had listened to him and yes, she had comprehended his words. "You have noooo idea..." she muttered, mostly to herself. She was definitely thinking about some of the boys who had fancied her when she was young, and had tried to earn her respect by giving her flowers (which she often threw away because unless they were red roses or frangipanis), or perhaps carrying her books for her to classes (and they often fell down on their feet due to 'accidents', which often made the brunette titter) and once even publicly proposed to her with a plastic ring, and that was when she was seven years old. Her response? She screamed at him, called him derogatory names, and the final touch, kicking him where he wasn't supposed to be kick. She earned a week's worth of detentions for assaulting a fellow student, but hey - who said Millicent Prentiss was supposed to give a flying fuck about that?

Certainly not the girl herself.

The girl raised both her eyebrows, and her eyes slightly widened, conveying her first positive feeling of the day. Really, she was actually... galvanized. Not like she was ever going to verbally admit it; she would sometimes fake alexithymia just so people can stop asking her what she was feeling. "That's actually an... unmatched insight into jealousy," she mused, before listening to his joyous speech. Merlin, he may look like an idiot, but he sure as hell wasn't. "You're bloody right," she agreed, extending her arm. She turned around from the lock to face the boy, and held her palm up, "Up top?"

Merlin hope he knew what a high-five was.

Applauding apathetically, the girl was mostly glad that his parents didn't manage to find him a future lady for him to marry, because in the youngest pure Prentiss's eyes anyone who was betrothed automatically became a bore, which in her book was an easy thing to be. The same rang true for anybody in a relationship, committed or others. She didn't know why that was; perhaps it was just her mindset and how she grew up and learning from her father that betrothal was more often than not forced, and it was a terrible thing.

"There's a line in Romeo and Juliet," Millicent cogitated, "'happier than she are happy mothers made.' That line always made me think of getting betrothed and shit like that, and I have no idea why. Then again, Juliet was betrothed to count Paris for all but five days but she didn't end up getting married anyway. She ended up dead." She merely shrugged it off as if it was something inappreciable, though quoting a Shakespearian quote was a miracle in the girl's mind. She then laughed along with what the boy said. "That's just me and marriage in a nutshell," she giggled, though one way or another, her statement still sounded more hollow than she would have liked.

Raising an eyebrow at first, the brunette first thought that it might be Felix's ploy to make her not see hi trying to get himself off her and run away into the cabins above and locking her in the hull and leave her to die, but then she remembered that even if he tried to move a finger she'd probably feel it just because her nerve cells were that astute. So, putting her trust in her instinct, the girl closed her eyes and thought.

"Honestly?" she admitted, "I think of us in a garden. I'm drinking black coffee, and you're picking flowers because you're that weird." She then sighed. "That's the only thing I can think of..."

He wanted to laugh, of course he was bloody right. He was bloody brilliant. He mostly was, but rarely he spoke his mind. Why would he anyway? Most kids his age were plain idiots and simpletons, not to mention some of the elders too.. like they would never grow up. On the positive side, she seemed to have some brain in her. That was a good thing. A challenge. At least he knew he would have some competition at school, so that he won't die out of boredom.

Then she wanted to make a high-five. Damn girl, but whatever. High-five went into motion and soon their palms connected. Let the girl be happy. He can compromise to that level of touch. Not like he cared, really.

Merlin... was that Shakespeare? Good gods, he didn't suspect her of even thinking about Shakespeare not to mention quoting him. Trying to figure out what she meant by that particular quote he knew he lost it. It made no sense for him, but he made sure he would remember said quote and her accompanying words. Another piece of puzzle called Miss Prentiss added. Yeah, he didn't knew her name, just surname, but whatever. Everything in due time.

"Life is too beautiful to live it in commitment when truly we are not only not sure if the other person is right for us, but also because such commitment restricts us from living our lives to their fullest." He said calmly hoping a bit that it would cover his temporary lack of understanding of the meaning of her elaboration on Shakespeare. Yeah, he was just covering traces and doing some damage prevention at the same time.


He just couldn't believe when he saw her closing her eyes and then starting saying those things saying how would those different circumstances look like. It was momentary and a second later he bent his head skillfully and claimed her soft lips with his in a soft caring kiss cutting her off in mid sentence. Somebody once said that man developed kiss to make woman stop talking and at this moment it was partially true. It was more like an reflexive action of a youth who got carried by the situation in which he have found himself in.

Then his lips gently parted from her lips still touching, yet not in kiss anymore. Slowly realisation was settling into his head. He was an idiot. Yes, he was indeed. But then, even if he did was one, he couldn't deny that it was a very nice feeling and a part of him wanted to repeat it, but his more rational part was mentally face palming at his behaviour he just displayed. He was such an idiot to even deny he liked it more than he allowed himself to think, but hey, it was just a kiss right?

In agreement, Millicent snapped her fingers. "Exactly!" she exclaimed, "spending too much time with one person can be a fucking drag if it's not the right person." She then sighed dreamily, though the joy she experienced from the thoughts in her mind were not exactly pleasant ones; they were a sick sort, an introspection that some psychologists may categorize as 'sadistic.' "Thankfully," the brunette added, pressing onto her point, "I don't believe in having the right person! People like you and I - the smart, beautiful sort - we don't have soulmates! The only people that is right for us is us, ourselves, and us!" She broke out into a dance at this point.

At Felix's high five, the girl could only raise an eyebrow. "Dude, it's just a high five," she snappily asserted, "no one's going to kill you with a high-five." The girl then pursed her lips, thinking about all the things that could possibly happen with a high-five. There could be slaps given, or the perpetrator of the high five may come out with a mallet. Oh, the possibilities. "But come to think of it, challenge accepted."

As she spoke, she was interrupted by a pair of lips. Well, this was shocking, for a start. In her life, she'd always expected her first kiss to be in a broom closet or some sort of secluded space (she had forgotten that very few people knew about the hull being a weapon storage so therefore, it can technically be called secluded) to be with a boy a few years older than she was. Even if she were to kiss this boy, she had always expected it to be in a garden, because with him she didn't feel complete - that was so a calumniation - but she felt different.

There was a familiar light sensation in her stomach though the girl couldn't place it due to how weak it was. She had no idea that it was the light feeling that showed her that she was having romantic feelings for a person, something she had so proudly proclaimed that she didn't have.

The kiss, needless to say, was a bit forced on her part, which was very odd considering that yes, this was her first kiss and it should be wonderful, but this was no fairytale so nothing had to be that way. It wasn't dull, but it didn't feel quite right. Then again, unless Millicent incited the action, nothing felt very comfortable. Either way, his lips were soft on hers, and that she liked.

When they were in lip-distance, the brunette couldn't help but plaster a coy smirk on her face before leaning in to place a tender kiss on his lips.

Just as she said, challenge accepted and now he was accepting her challenge, it didn't matter that it was he who set the ting in motion by kissing her. She was the one who brought it to the light. Never say you thoughts out and play 'ifs' if you don't want it to happen. Playing 'ifs' was always an indication of our hidden desires. A justification of our conscious self that 'if' something was different there might have been a possibility to.. like kiss fooling around playing doctor just to quench their curiosity.

No matter how he would look at it her lips tasted sweet to his and with every fraction of a second he liked it even more. When he parted their lips for a moment he was a bit surprised to find himself being kissed by her in return. Not like he disagreed. He returned the kiss as tenderly and caringly as he could.

Needless to say, his experience was like none and he wanted to take his time slowly to learn. Rushing things would only screw everything up.

His hand gently stroked her hair tugging a strand of her hair behind hr ear and then it stroked her cheek. Not like he knew what to do exactly in a situation like that. Peeping on older kids and sometimes adults was a normal thing for him when he was six, but then It was a long time ago. Even if he knew a theory, he found the practice a bit awkward, but that was most due to his inexperience, and what he wouldn't ever admit, both slight fear and light, fulfilling feeling that grows in him. He couldn't understood that feeling and that's why he tried to pull it back into the depths of his mind but then he have found it impossible. It was too good to get rid of it.

He could almost hear his heart beating a bit faster than it should. Was it because of this kiss they have shared? He have no idea, but then, he was too distracted, too engulfed into the sensation to even admit to himself, not like he would anyway, that this feeling he had for this girl might be just a beginning for something else. Not to mention, that it was his first kiss it make it even a bit more confusing for him.