Give a little more [Vlad]

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....

[blackquote][blackquote]

Zoya sat at one of the back tables in the library. She hunched over a large volume absent-mindedly flipping through its contents. She didn't want to think about last night. What had started out as a good party had turned hostile and into a drunken blur. Why did he call me a tease...well, he's a fucking man-whore.... that's what he is... Zoya exhaled. She was frustrated, but what use was it crying over a ruined evening. She had dolled up for him why? Now, she didn't even know. Maybe it was the fact that she missed Vladislav Krum. Maybe it was the fact that deep down she had wanted to make him jealous. She really didn't want to try to figure out her reasoning right now.

What she needed was to finish this stupid foot-long Potions essay, but then again, Zoya was having a horrid time focusing. Hang-overs and bloke problems were not a pleasent combination. She pulled off her jacket and threw it onto the nearby chair. Biting down on her lip, hard.

Luckily, that today was only Saturday, but she had schudeled Drumstrang Qudditch practice for later today. That wasn't something that she was looking forward to. Having to see him. Having to make the team work when not even she felt motivated. She could probably have stormed out of the library right now, but it irked her to not get assignments done, early. Stupid sorting hat. She'd probably fit in better in any house here at Hogwarts, but not this one.

Zoya wasn't Slytherin material. Maybe I'm not girlfriend material neither.. Zoya set her quill down to the side of the large Potions book and tried to clear her head. To no avail, her blue eyes, narrowed. Of all the people to walk into the library on a weekend morning at this early an hour. Why, him? Couldn't any other person. Even, Pavel! Even Pavel Bakalov, but not him. She groaned.

Don't come over here.....don't see me here....this is why I pick the very last table in the back so that I can avoid people. Also, I like being alone when I do my work so go away, go away, go away, Krum! Her thoughts screamed.

Before Zoya knew it. Krum was right in front of her table.

"What do you want?" She snapped.

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/center]
WORDS 635
TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT Dressed a light green t-shirt and blue jeans
NOTES Let the games begin. - sings - Love. Love will tear us apart!
CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

[vladislav k. krum]

Everything was out of sync. Krum woke up late, and with a groan to match his manticore alarm clock’s growling. Normally he was a creature of habit, waking early to start his morning routine, breakfast, workouts, more breakfast, and then classes. Krum got through all these things by zoning out, carrying out all the tasks automatically. He trusted his subconscious to take care of certain things, and generally, his subconscious didn’t fail him. But today, Krum felt far too awake for it to be any good. His head felt strange, his mouth was dry, and he realized he really had to pee.

He ran to the bathroom, not bothering to shut off his alarm – or even check the time, for that matter. What day was it, even? Did he have class? Homework, Quidditch? Krum walked over to the sync and fully opened his eyes for the first time today. Immediately regretting it, he cursed whoever decided on the brightness of the lights as it flooded his eyes, stinging and making his head ache. More careful this time, Krum returned to the mirror, washing his face and looking at himself from all angles. Just as he began debating whether or not anyone would notice how tired he looked, he heard the voice of one of his roommates.

Running back into his dorm to calls of “dammit, Krum!” and “will you shut that thing OFF?”, he bopped his alarm on the head, turned back around, and immediately stumbled and fell. Someone threw a pillow at him, moaning out “finally!”. Krum sat back up, looking around to see what had tripped him. There was an empty bottle with a label that read “Hefeweizen” on the floor, and another jammed between his bed and the wall. The memories of last night began to come back. Krum remembered throwing the party with some of the other Durmstrang seventh-years… He remembered inviting Zoya… And he remembered drinking far more than he intended. Bakalov was there, too. Oddly enough, wherever he went, trouble followed. Krum wondered if it was worth recollecting the rest of the night.

Krum scrambled back up, pulled fresh clothes out of his bags, and ran out to the showers. On any other day, he would be in here much, much later. There was early morning flying practice that he had to do, a quick swim in the lake, and a lap around the school (taken at a sprint) to build endurance. No point in getting clean if you’re just going to get dirty again. But, if his memory served him correctly – and at this point, he couldn’t be sure – it was Saturday, he had a potions essay to write, conjuring magic to learn, and Quidditch practice later on with the team. Potions was easy enough, and he was planning on putting conjuring off until Sunday anyway. As for Quidditch, the Durmstrang team had plenty of experience flying drunk or hung over, but there was another reason Krum didn’t want to go. Krum unbuttoned his normally nice shirt (now with three stains, each from a different liquid), pulled off his jeans and boxers in one move, and stepped into the hot stream of water, letting it run over his slightly sore body. He was pretty sure he managed to get the captain, Zoya, mad at him last night. There were vague memories floating around Krum’s head, memories of Bakalov whispering something about her being good in bed but a tease. Krum didn’t even want to straighten those out, not today. Tomorrow, maybe he’d find Bakalov, or Alexei, and ask one of them what the hell happened. But today, he just felt drained. He shocked himself awake with cold water, got dressed, and resolved to just get today over with.

Vladislav returned to his room yet again, threw the pillow back into an unhappy roommate’s bed (“Vladik, just let me sleep…”), took some clean robes and his book bag, and headed off to the library. The amount of work Vlad’s been assigned for class wasn’t an overwhelming amount... Not overwhelming enough if he wanted a good excuse to miss Quidditch. A foot on the properties and uses of something or other… Vlad didn’t even remember the assignment, but as it was potions, he wasn’t worried. Practicing conjuring wouldn’t be easy, but as the teacher failed to specify when to stop, he could wave his wand around for half an hour and honestly say he tried. He could say he was really, genuinely trying to conjure something, and lost track of the time. But anyone who knew Vlad – and his team definitely did – would not buy that excuse. The son of Victor Krum, missing Quidditch for school-related reasons. The thought of it made even Vlad smile a bit. Well, he’d get through it the same way he always did: by taking out his frustration on the bludgers.

Not even bothering to disguise his displeasure, Vlad kicked the door to the library open. Thankfully, no adult came to reprimand him on damaging school property. He walked through the shelves, looking for the right book for his essay. Unfortunately for Vlad, the search took him right next to the table where Zoya sat, previously quiet. Krum gave a short laugh in response to her question. He really, really didn’t need this. Not today, and not from the girl who dumped him.

”Does it matter? I’m not going to get it, even if I tell you,” He replied with a crafty smile. Vlad had a level of anger, in-between mere agitation and full-on fury, where rather than showing hate, he was smiling and laughing, as though he was enjoying whatever he got himself into. Lately it seemed he would permanently reside at that spot on his spectrum of emotions, and each time he fought with Zoya it got harder and harder to leave.

word count › 974
tagged › Zoya
notes › let's get ready to ruuuuumbleeee!

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....

"Fine, don't tell me," Zoya murmured. She tried to make it seem as though, she didn't give a @#!*% about what he had to say anyway. With her arms folded across her small frame and that intensity to those blue eyes of hers when she stared up at him. The fact that Vladislav was a foot taller than her didn't bother her in the slightest. Right now. She didn't know what she wanted. A confession from him or an apology? She was just so frustrated why did he always have to get under her skin. "Vladislav," she whispered. "you're an arse-hole..." Zoya paused. Her eyes had began to flash and she could just feel the anger beginning to boil in her veins. "You push, push, and push, until you just cross the line on so many occasions that I don't even know which way is up from down anymore!" Zoya's voice cracked.

She slammed her book down on the desk with a sickeningly thud. She had no control over her emotions right now. She just felt like she was so all over the place that it made even her own head ache. "Listen to me for once," she hissed. He wasn't going anywhere so this was the perfect opportunity for her to tell him exactly how she felt. She could have ranted to him in Russian for a good long while, but she rather everything be spoken in plain English. Just to make sure that if anyone walked in they too would hear what she had to say. Zoya rose up from her chair and crossed the table so that she stood directly in front of him. Blocking his way from leaving in a way.

"I am not going to sit back and take your @#!*% anymore!" She hissed. Hair in her eyes, but she didn't care and made no move to fix it. "I am sick and tired of your games! What the @#!*% are we anymore! Certainly, we're not friends! You have ruined that! Calling me a tease? Insinuating to Pavel Bakalov of all people last night that I'm a no good prude!" She exclaimed. Her face turning red. So irate that she could probably slap him. "I'm sorry, Krum that I will never be like other girls!" She bit her lip. "I'm sorry that I won't sleep with you...and I'm sorry that I ever convienced myself that there was a ever a time! Where I ever thought - " her voice trailed off. She couldn't bring herself to say it. To admit it. She knew that it was the truth, yet she didn't want to speak the words out in the open because it would hurt too much. She settled for exhaling. Putting her hands to her temples and rubbing her head a moment.

"Look, haven't you hurt me enough?" she leaned in and breathed in his ear. Her words full of pain. "Last year, when you cheated on me with Sasha Lilov, wasn't that enough?" she bit her lip and had she not stopped. Zoya would've made it bleed by biting through it. She shook her head. "I thought that I could move on, that I could forgive you, I could forget that any of that happened....though, I have realized that I can't. I'm not as strong as I give myself credit for." Zoya swallowed. She said nothing, merely turned from him, and went back to her table. Instead of sitting back down Zoya gathered her stuff and shoved it in her satchel.

"Krum, please tell the rest of the team that I have decided to cancel Qudditch practice for today." the voice seemed like it belonged to someone other than Zoya Andersen. Like a stranger or a small child that had been kicked around for too long and was just refusing to speak up any longer.

There was something very wrong with that last sentence Zoya uttered before she stormed out of the library with her satchel thrown over her shoulder. Andersen NEVER canceled practice. Not even when they were at Drumstrang there was one point in time when everyone was convienced that she had some sort of flu, yet she was still there.

Zoya didn't know where she was going off to. A part of her didn't even care that she'd cancelled Qudditch. She didn't know a thing about anything anymore. She hoped that Krum wouldn't follow after her, but she realized that he most likely would. She had to keep holding herself together, but that was like grasping at straws.

WORDS 720
TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT Dressed a light green t-shirt and blue jeans
NOTES So Zoya has totally lost it. Poor girl. This is going to get interesting real quick.
CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

[vladislav k. krum]

Under the black robe, under the lion coat of arms, under the shirt pressed tight against Vladislav’s chest, his heart was pounding more violently, as though trying to break out of his rib cage. The cocktail of emotions that Vladislav has become so accustomed to around Zoya filled him like an empty vessel. His gut felt like it tightened around a block of ice, his lungs suddenly didn’t give him enough air. Adrenaline pumped through his entire body, and Vlad felt like he wouldn’t be able to stand still for very long. His mind was racing, all the thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge poured in. There was something about this girl that just set him off – every damn time. So very typical of her, getting his attention, dragging him in, and then fighting him out. Vlad was determined to act like he was ignoring her passive-aggressive remark. The fact that she didn’t care what he wanted was clear enough, alright. It always was. All that mattered was what Zoya wanted, and what Zoya didn’t want. Zoya wants the attention of someone moderately famous, and there he is. Zoya wants his complete attention, the son of Viktor Krum obliges. Zoya wants him to want her, wants intensely passionate kisses, wants to leave him wanting more? Vlad obliges. Zoya wants him to love her, wants to be the only girl on his mind, well, Vlad @#!%ing obliges. Zoya wants to be the girl who breaks him, wants to be his obsession… Congratulations, Zoya, you got everything you worked so hard for. Zoya asks, Zoya gets. Well, Vlad was sick of being a means to an end and shutting up about it.

The girl was by no means done with the conversation, apparently. Staring daggers at Vlad, she began to speak words that seemed to bring out a primal and bestial self in her. There was no trace of a veil of civility now, no outer calm containing her. Everything was coming into light now, and Vlad was going to enjoy it. She thinks she can hold her own against him? You’ve got another thing coming, sweetheart, Vlad thought to himself as she called him an arse-hole and more. Something changed in her voice, she slammed down her book, and blocked his path, all the rage of the world in her eyes. She hissed, she yelled, she lectured. Throwing his own bag aside so hard it knocked over a chair, Vlad leaned in, bringing his face to her eye level, jabbing a pointed finger into her chest (though barely actually touching her) as he spat out what he had to say.

Do what you want to -- to whoever you want to -- as always. I never wanted you to be like the other girls, but what I want never matters anyway. You had your fun with me and you threw me away, what would you call that? The truth is, you ruined us, Zoya, Vlad retorted in the pause Zoya took to calm herself down, breaking off at “Where I ever thought-“. She seemed to be cooling off, and Vlad again felt a little guilty. Yes, he thought to himself, I’m the guy that gets right into a girl’s face to yell at her now. Fantastic.

He closed his eyes momentarily, taking two deep breaths, oxygen flooding his brain, making him painfully aware of how hard the vein in his temple was pulsing. Now Zoya got closer still, dropping the rhetorical question that froze him on the spot. No shaking arms, no heavy breathing. All thoughts stopped. Vlad just stood there, unable to move, unable to speak; not even shocked or confused, but fully petrified on the spot. Her hair brushed his skin as he watched her pick up her belongings and head out the door. She canceled Quidditch practice and disappeared into the corridor. Dumb-struck, it took Vlad a full minute to recover, and realize there was a voice in the back of his head screaming instructions that his body was not following.

Vladislav kicked the leg of the nearest table; it slid an entire foot with a horrid screeching noise. He retrieved his book bag from under the abused table, haphazardly stuffing all his things that were scattered over the floor back inside. Flinging it over the shoulder, he sprinted out, holding up a middle finger to the outraged librarian as he passed her by. Yes, Vlad would be in detention later. He found that he didn’t care. Following the sound of Zoya’s heavy steps, he caught up to her and grabbed her arm, harder than he meant to, only trying to turn her around just so she would hear him. It was wrong, and he didn’t mean to lay a hand on her, but Vlad would clarify the last two things no matter the consequences.
I NEVER touched any Sasha Vilov or Lilov or… whoever. I never so much as looked at another girl that way when I had you, Vlad whispered as calmly as he could, but his voice was still charged with urgency and anger. He stood up straight, letting go of Zoya’s arm, again more violently than he meant to. It was almost as though Vlad threw it out of his hand. He took a few steps back, staring into those blue eyes, almost losing his concentration. But he recovered.
As for Quidditch, Vlad began, still walking backwards, if you’re going to bring the team into this, you can tell them yourself.

word count › 911
tagged › Zoya
notes › oh, Krum. didn't anyone teach you impulse control?

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....

"Don't you dare touch me again! " Zoya snapped. The rough way that he grabbed her arm reminded her of the time that her father had drunkenly hexed her. The way that he had seized her by the wrist and slammed her aganist a wall. Seven years later and that memory still horrified her. She blinked and then tried to compose herself. "Bakalov told me differently," Zoya whispered. "What about that veela what's her name....I suppose that's not true either..." she seethed. "Now, leave me alone, Krum...." she breathed.

Zoya took off down the corridor at a bit of a sprint. She had always been lithe and athletic, but she was running away from her problems and even she knew it. She was just too upset over it all to deal with it. She sent her team owls that stated that she'd canceled Qudditch today due to the fact that she had too much homework to do. It actually really should have translated to: because I'm so depressed and pissed at the world right now that I can't fly a broom straight to save my life.

Days passed. Zoya skipped a few of her classes. When she was seen. She certainly didn't look like herself. Face void of make-up. No coloured streaks in her blonde hair of any kind. She wore her hair down and not up. She moved around like a life-less zombie. She just wanted to disappear and it looked like it. She didn't want to talk about it. Hell, she didn't even touch any of her bottles of Vodka. Her eyes just seemed totally dull. It wasn't all about her. She couldn't believe that Krum had even said that. She let him do whatever the hell he wanted. They understood one another, or at least, they had.

She found herself back in the library, but it was around three in the morning. Clad in a pale blue nightgown with the straps sliding off of her shoulders because she didn't care to adjust them. A pair of grey sweatpants and fuzzy slippers that had frogs on the tops of them. She sat back in the restricted section. Not caring if someone caught her back here or not. Zoya ran her fingers through her hair frantically. A pile of large volumes stacked in front of her and a dimly lit latern. She wasn't even looking at the words as she opened a book and just stared at it. The dark inked sentences all seemed to blur together as tears slid down her face, yet she did nothing to stop herself from crying.

Her chest felt tight, her breathing constricted, but she did nothing to try and calm herself down. A part of her did blame herself for letting him go. Maybe she had jumped to conclusions, but he had a reputation with woman and she couldn't refrute that. She felt like such a git crying alone in a darkened library.

The anger had just evaporated completely. She couldn't feel anything, but the dull and empty feeling that felt hollow in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't make sense of anything anymore. Besides, tonight hadn't been the best of evenings. Pavel Bakalov had just cornered her in an aclove.

She felt trapped.

An utter feeling of suffocation.

He hadn't tried anything. It was just the words that he'd spoken to her. The promixity of his breath aganist her ear. It all had felt wrong. Very wrong.

She felt like he was up to something. The way that he continously tried to sweet talk her first and then talk her down. A repetitive cycle. A push and pull. Zoya felt lost. Pavel confessing his love to her one minute. Telling her she was a no good slut the next. She couldn't take his games anymore and then add in the fight that she had with Vladislav Krum - a few days ago - and Zoya just felt like she was falling to pieces entirely.

She hated feeling so vulnerable. It really did suck.

WORDS 818
TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT mentioned above NOTES I wonder where this will go from here. Oh, Vlad & Zoya. How complicated is thy love? CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

[vladislav k. krum]

The moment Zoya mentioned Bakalov’s name in their conversation (earlier on in the library), Vlad felt himself snap. It was as though his being had split in two. There was his body, and the creature of whim that called the shots. And the second part, the reason, was trapped inside Vlad’s head, screaming but unable to be heard, helplessly watching as Vlad tore through the library like a hurricane. The creature felt something, and it acted on it. No, Vlad acted on it. Vlad was just a puppet to this creature, this monster. It felt vengeful, and Vlad jabbed his finger and yelled at Zoya. It felt angry, and Vlad threw his book bag and kicked a table. It felt injustice, and Vlad put his hands on the only girl he’d ever loved. The one that he swore, in his mind, and maybe at some point verbally, that he would never touch that way. And as Zoya barked at him not to touch her again… A sense of fear and dread overwhelmed him, shocking him back to his senses. Vlad put his hands up in the air, as if she had pulled a gun on him (or, more realistically, a wand), looking wide-eyed and innocent again. He couldn’t believe he just did that. But now, Zoya hissed more rumors Bakalov whispered to her, no doubt trying to weasel his way into her good graces, and Vlad felt all reason leave him again.

Zoya sprinted away. Vlad, this time, knew better than to follow her. Besides, what she had said… the veela… that was not entirely false. He roared out angrily, banging his fists against the stone wall. Bakalov, you bastard, Vlad almost whispered, pressing his head against the wall. I told you that in confidence… The words died in his throat, he felt himself choking up, deep regret washing over him, cleansing him of anger. He felt tears forming and shut his eyes tight. There was no point to this… whatever it was. This fight. It’s gone on for two years now. Both Zoya and Vlad have had enough.
Vlad put his hand across his eyes and nose, like he was astounded by the stupidity of someone, and shook his head. He sneakily dried his eyes – just in case he had an audience – and rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes still shut. It was time to give this up. His face dry, Vlad began to walk back to the library with an expression even more worn out than what he wore when he just woke up this morning. The librarian was furious. After enduring what felt like a four-hour-long lecture with her and the head of Gryffindor house, he was ordered to do his schoolwork and given detention for a week of setting the library straight each night, and helping repair old and torn books during one of his free periods.

However, Vlad’s punishment did not end there. He received an owl from Zoya canceling Quidditch practice with the excuse of having too much homework. Funny, when he was going to skip practice with that same excuse, Vlad felt a whole lot less guilty. Vlad assumed this letter was a clever way for Zoya to throw the team off the scent, but he had to wonder if some of them knew what really happened. His teammates threw him questioning and upset looks when they passed in the corridors. Those that he spoke with on occasion didn’t ask about him and Zoya – they avoided the topic to a suspicious extent. And then there were the Slytherin girls. Packs of them staring and whispering. Shaking their heads. Zoya wasn’t the kind of person who would rush to tell the world about this sort of thing, but rumors had their way of morphing insignificant speculation to undeniable fact. The Andersen girl was definitely acting strange, like she was mere remnants of her former self, stripped of all that made her Zoya.

And if the girl that was formerly the life of the party, the leader of the group, the center of the conversation, was now just a shadow… Vlad must have been subconsciously trying to rejoin her, because even he seemed to be fading away. His booming voice wasn’t heard outside of class, there was no laughter and no pranks in-between lessons. A bat, two bludgers, and his broom were mysteriously missing on a regular basis, and Vlad was nowhere to be found. Those students that frequented the towers spotted him, once or twice, practicing above the castle, where the air was thinner, where he didn’t have to think as much. The pair avoided each other like magnets of the same polarity, but, as these things go, that would soon come to an end.
Serving one of his numerous detentions, Vladislav Krum was carrying out the noble task of returning books to their rightful spots, without magic. Not that he could, even with magic. He was too… frustrated, distracted. He whipped out his wand while the librarian wasn’t looking and tried to organize the bookcase. Instead of the used texts flying back to their shelves, already organized ones shot out, all over the library. Of course, he got another stern lecture and an order to serve his detention the right way into the night if necessary.

And so, Vlad restacked books all evening. The incredibly boring task numbed his senses, which, at this time, was a blessing. Unfortunately, however, it also meant he had no motivation to drag himself all the way across the castle to sleep. Vlad passed out right on an open volume on arithmancy.
His sleep was not entirely peaceful, however, having gone to bed at midnight and being woken up by footsteps and strange scuffling noises a mere three hours later. Vlad tracked the source of the mysterious noise to the restricted section. Someone left the lamp there and went to sleep like him, no doubt. Vlad double- and triple-checked that he wouldn’t be caught, and crept into the section full of books too horrific for students to pursue and their leisure. Not bothering to be quiet, he rounded a corner of shelves and walked right in on Zoya… crying right on the pages of whatever she had open.
Conflicted, Vlad took a pause. Yes, she told him to go to hell probably a dozen times. But this was not the usual upset Zoya. Something was wrong, really wrong. Vlad felt something about her, an emotion perhaps, far worse than he’d seen her experience. He made sure not to hide himself, and approached her with his hands up again, hoping she’d know he came in peace.

Zoe… What’s wrong?

He spoke softly, as he would to a wounded animal he didn’t want to scare off.

I’ll leave you alone, I swear, just tell me what happened first.

It wasn’t an order, but a request. Vlad kept standing, having decided that it would be too bold to have a seat across from her.

word count › 1164
tagged › Zoya
notes › aww Zoya!

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....

Zoya registered the voice. She knew that it was him, but she didn't care. She didn't care to even try to stop crying because she was well aware that she couldn't. For she had tried and had failed in doing so already. Her hair was matted to the side of her face. She looked as though she'd just seen a ghost. She knew that Vladislav was probably awaiting some sort of explaination as to why she was such a wreck.

The thing of it was that there wasn't just one reason, but many. The primary reason was why she was here in the restricted section of the library; crying. That would be the work of Pavel Bakalov. She was roaming the corridors aimlessly because she couldn't sleep. Her thoughts were too jumbled with thoughts of the very bloke that was now asking her what was the matter with her. Not that this fact made matters any easier for her because that didn't. Now, she felt foolish and weak for crying.

She had cried when she was ten and her father hexed her. He had told her that she deserved it and therefore she shouldn't cry because big girls didn't shed tears. Now, she was a crying mess. She should toughen up. She should lie to Krum and tell him that nothing was wrong and that he should just go back to whatever he had been doing, but Vlad knew her way too well. Therefore, she couldn't lie to him. No matter how badly she might have wanted to.

Out of the corner of her eye. Bakalov had been there. Clad in Slytherin robes. How well they fit him. It often made Zoya sick. Seeing as Zoya was the farthest thing from a Slytherin girl that one could get. She often just tried to blend in and keep out of the way of most that were with her in that house. She didn't feel like she belonged there. He had whispered for her to come over to him. That he had been worried about her over the past couple of days. His request seemed reasonable so Zoya had joined him aganist the wall and he had started talking to her, but his words made her very uncomfortable.

One moment. Pavel had said things like "Pity, Krum. Doesn't realize what a ravishing beauty, you are." When she defensively told him to shut up. He had responded by pulling her closer and then referring to her as a slut. Pavel Bakalov didn't like rejection, but what he didn't like more than a girl rejecting him. Was when he didn't eventually get his way with her. He was really chasing after the wrong girl seeing as Zoya would never want anything to do with Bakalov and she'd never let any bloke walk all over. That was for certain. She could hold her own. She was indenpent and she didn't like to be preyed upon. She felt like she was a deer frozen by the point of a hunter's rifle. That the hunter was none other than Pavel; himself.

She was taken aback by his words. He then tried to kiss the side of her face. She slapped him and then he pushed her until she fell back into the aclove. She hated tight spaces. Dark. Small. No room. It felt like she couldn't breathe. It felt like he was hovering over her as she was on her back and he leaned down inches to her face.

"I'll get you my pretty....you will be mine.."

That was the last thing that Zoya remembered Bakalov saying before she lost consciousness. Afterwards, she found herself here. Lost and confused. She hardly remembered herself recounting the story to Vlad. She didn't even sound like herself.

She knew that she sounded pathetic. That's for sure. She also knew that she didn't want to fight with Vladislav right now. That she wished that he was still hers so that she could bury her head into his tone chest and just cry until the tears would no longer come out of her eyes.

Zoya felt threatened. It wasn't like she was going to openly confess that to Krum though. She didn't know where they stood anymore.

"Islav...." she murmured.

She stared down at the book because she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze no matter how much she might have wanted to.

WORDS 877
TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT mentioned previously NOTES Awe. And we still need a Bakalov.......
CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

[vladislav k. krum]

These past two years, Zoya and Vlad have had a constantly rocky friendship. In fact, “friendship” would be a very generous name to dub the ever-changing storm of feelings that they had between them. After fifth year, the two fought, a lot. They fought physically: stepping on the other’s foot, roughly bumping into each other in the corridors, shoving, the occasional sharp elbow, but nothing particularly major. Their physical altercations were not fights so much as displays of dominance. It’s as though they were saying, “look what you did to me, and how great I’m doing in spite of you.” They fought on the Quidditch field – sometimes it was hard to tell if the Durmstrang team was playing their opponent or itself. They fought with magic, in and out of classes, either besting one another in mastery of a specific subject, or hexing each other’s possessions or persons under the pretense of “practice” and “demonstration”. But most of those things still caused some stir in the group of spectators they gathered.

Nobody was surprised, however, to see Zoya and Vlad go at it in a shouting match. When it was private, objects were thrown or destroyed, feelings hurt, throats sore. And when it was public – well, those shouting matches were truly epic. Zoya, so small and delicate, fiercely shouting down Krum. Her hair flew behind her gracefully, her eyes flashing with determination. She was some sort of war goddess. Then there was Krum himself, a massive beast, speaking both with his incredibly loud and deep voice, and extravagant arm gestures. No doubt they scared passer-byes more than each other. Yes, the verbal battlefield is where they took a majority of their fights, because whether or not they wanted to admit it, neither truly wished the other harm. At the very least, Vlad knew he didn’t want to see Zoya hurt, and believed that very deep down, Zoya didn’t want him hurt, either.

Maybe that was why Vlad was suddenly so lost. Him and Zoya have argued even more than usual over the last week or so, and there were a lot of things they would need to work out through before they would be on good terms. When they shouted, snapped, hissed, and spat their malicious phrases at each other, there was always some new insight into past events, some new revelation they had about their now ended relationship. But they never returned to those conflicts, never talked them over. And they kept piling up into a massive cluster of incomplete information. Vlad and Zoya had a lot to resolve, but right here, right now, was neither the time or place. And for once, Vlad was sharp enough to realize when to just drop it.

Most importantly, however, Vlad didn’t feel any desire to fight with Zoya. There was something in the way she just sat there, in the way she just cried over her book, that Vlad was completely disturbed by. It was as though Zoya had no fire left in her, just… emptiness. She spoke, but it wasn’t words that came streaming out along with her tears, it was… memories. Raw emotion. Things that Vlad didn’t know and could have never imagined, spoken with a sort of sincerity he hadn’t heard from her in years.

He sat down, not even across from her, but next to her. He put one arm on the table, resting his head on his left hand, while putting the right hand on the back of Zoya’s chair. She didn’t react at all, Vlad doubted she even noticed it. Right now was not the time to cozy up to her, but he wasn’t particularly comforting all the way across the room, either. Vlad decided to just stay nearby, but at a distance… Especially after hearing the stories she had said. Zoya would feel… so violated now, if he touched her. Vlad looked down at the table sadly, not wanting to make Zoya feel any more awkward than she already did. What he did want was to pull her into a hug and never let her go, or reach out her hand and tell her that nobody can hurt her now, or push her hair behind her ear and wipe her tears away… But instead, he summoned his thermos of hot apple cider to their table (to Vlad’s enormous surprise, it soared into his hand on the first try) and poured some for Zoya.
It’s okay, Zoe, everything is okay now, Vlad whispered – almost breathed – out quietly, sliding the cider across the table to her. He wanted so badly to comfort her, make her feel safer, to protect her, that it was physically hurting him. The rush of hatred he felt for Bakalov could wait until the next day. The anger he felt with Zoya’s father and with himself for ever taking advantage of the trust she put in them. Unable to contain himself, Vlad slid his arm around Zoya’s shoulder, holding his head against hers.

word count › 831
tagged › Zoya
notes › :3

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....


"Thank you, Vladislav..." she whispered. She nestled aganist his shoulder and her eyes began to slide close. It was familiar sitting beside him. She wasn't bothered when beside him. She felt protected and suddenly it seemed like the past days had faded. That he had never grabbed her roughly. Never scared her by his rash words and actions. She wished that things could go back to the way that they had been. Before their relationship (or lack of) got so heated and complicated. Right now, nothing seemed to matter.

When she closed her eyes. The memories came flooding back to her. The good times. The Vlad that she fell so head over heels for. The embraces, the dances, twirling around dance floors, the jokes. The laughter. The heated kisses. The dates where he truly showed how charming he could be. The violets, daffodils, and orange roses, she adored. Sometimes, even white lilies which happened to be one of her favorites. Though, Zoya had always been quite fond of flowers. Vlad had knocked down all of those walls that she had put up as a defense mechanism. He looked past the girl who gave a shit and broke down the barriers to reveal the genuine soft and unique Zoya that few truly saw; unless, you were one of her brothers. Zoya wasn't all stone and defiance. Sure, some considered her to be a bit rough around the edges, but deep down, she was a real sweetheart.

She opened her eyes and then reached over and grabbed her cup of apple cider and began to take a few sips of it. A small smile reaching her features. She loved apple cider. Second to Vodka, but still. It was sweet and satisfying. Her eyes were swollen, red, and puffy, but on the whole, Zoya seemed to calm down some.

She needed up falling asleep on him. She hadn't meant to, yet she had. With strands of blonde hair falling akwardly onto his shoulder and down into his face. When the sun-light streamed through the window of the library. Zoya blinked. A bit disoriented by it all. She noticed the cup of cider on the table and then looked over and saw Vlad sitting and sleeping up-right on the chair.

"Wake up," she yawned. "Vladislav..." she ran a hand through his hair. It was an old habit of hers. Messing up his hair - even when it was kempt - she knew that it probably bugged him seeing as he always fixed it right after she ran her fingers through it, yet she enjoyed it. It never failed to bring a smile to her face.



Fool me once with your eyes now, honey.
Fool me twice with your lies now, honey
Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care.....

She slowly pulled herself off of his chest and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Staggering to her feet a moment. Glancing at her watch and then cursing under her breath. All of her books were back at her dorm and she knew for certain that she'd probably be late to her first class. Today was Monday, right? That was sad that Zoya Andersen couldn't even remember what day of the week it was, but it just seemed to be one of those days.

She glanced over at Vlad and threw him a smile. It was small, and barely reached her eyes, but it was the closest things to one of her genuine smiles. "If you don't wake up. We'll both be late to our classes and that wouldn't be very good. We can't slack off, Krum. Just because we're seventh years what a poor example we'd be to the younger year students beneath us that still have to suffer this agnogizing place." She smirked. Was that an attempt at a bit of Zoya humor. It certainly was. She pulled up the straps of her nightgown and then headed for the front door of the library she wasn't looking foward to walking back to her common room in nothing, but her pajamas, she didn't have any other options. Besides, she was pretty sure that she didn't look like anyone that someone should be messing with right now.

Zoya was a bit feared by the younger years. She never did seem to understand why, but this would work well today because she wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. Let alone answer anyone's questions. In her mind, it was bad enough, she was late to class. She already had to figure out a decent excuse for her Charms professor as to why she had entered the classroom almost ten minutes late. Her brain wasn't supplying her any good avenues. Normally, she was great at coming up with bull-shit excuses. Hasn't that how she'd over-come the pain of breaking up with Vlad, last year.

WORDS 951
TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT mentioned perviously
NOTES Made it a bit longer CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

[vladislav k. krum]

Vladislav was done talking. Honestly, he couldn’t if he tried. He could feel part of Zoya’s back pressed against him, and she laid her head on Vlad’s shoulder after finishing off the apple cider. Zoya was the one who introduced Vlad to the drink, years ago. Vlad drank it religiously these days, but he had never – until now, that is – let Zoya know that. As though her knowing that three quarters of the time he was drinking any liquid it was hot cider would make her see a part of him he kept concealed from the world.

Even though he could only see half of Zoya’s face, Vlad instantly noticed her half-smile. Not so much noticed as felt it, actually. Her demeanor shifted very slightly, and she became warmer. What little makeup she put on this morning was washed off by tears, but Vlad found her as beautiful as ever. Beautiful, perfect Zoya, almost snuggling in his arm.

And they were so good together, weren’t they? All those carefully put-together dates that he abandoned his schoolwork for. Carefully coordinated surprises, all those flower arrangements, the gifts. But that’s not what their relationship was about, of course. It was something extraordinary that made Vlad feel alive like nothing else. It was in the way their fingers would intertwine; Zoya’s long, graceful, manicured fingers alternating between Vlad’s square and rough knuckles. It was in the way her lips felt on his face. The way her elegant, petite, feminine body felt against his own muscular one. The entrancing way they danced together, laughed together, walked together… The way that the whole world disappeared when they were together.

That was before the mess Zoya and Vlad found themselves in currently. The hostilities. Betrayal, broken hearts. Of course, nothing had changed. But this night, at least, everything was different.

Immersed in self-reflection, Vlad didn’t notice the time go by at all. As energetic and hyper as he normally was, here, with Zoya, Vlad was perfectly content to hold completely still. In fact, was consciously trying to hold himself as still as physically possible while remaining relaxed. Vlad was savoring every moment he felt Zoya there, every sensation of her touch. For the first time in a long time, there was nothing sexual on his mind. This was bliss, this was as much as he could handle. Anything more and his senses would be overloaded with ecstasy and his soul would part from his body… Or that’s what he felt like, anyway.

Zoya brought out the very best in Vlad, she always has. Lately, that self has wanted an audience with Zoya, but the cold and rational and aggressive part of Vlad would not allow it. What he saw in Zoya, what he felt for Zoya, was not normal for an ex-boyfriend to feel. All his thoughts were centered around her. She was everything that was good and right in the world, all of it wrapped in a way that pulled Vlad in and held him tight. What was there to not like about Zoya? The worst thing about Zoya was Bakalov… someone she wanted nothing to with in the first place. Someone Zoya really got to know through Vlad…
All his musings, the coziness of their embrace, and the darkness of the room carried him off to sleep.

Now, of all the odd things about Vlad, the one not a lot of people knew about was how reluctant he was to wake up until he was disciplined to do so. In his training for a professional Quidditch career, he woke up at ungodly early hours of dawn, always fully awake right on the minute. But there were times he allowed himself to slip up; weekends he got drunk, or nights he spent in the library with no alarm clock. Without that habit and discipline, Vlad woke up to a state of half-sleep, loopy and not fully in control of what he was saying or doing. More often than not, he spoke lucidly and acted normally, but forgot about his actions almost immediately. This was to be one of those mornings.

Vlad woke up with Zoya’s hand in his hair. He didn’t need to open his eyes and look at her to know it was Zoya beside him. He lifted his head and smiled, completely satisfied.

обичам те, he mumbled in his native tongue and ran his own fingers through Zoya’s hair. Sitting forward in his chair, but still very sleepy, he leaned towards her and gave her a kiss on the cheek before stretching out in his chair again.
The phrase sounded nothing like its Russian equivalent, but with the way he said it, the meaning was impossible to miss.

word count › 785
tagged › Zoya
notes › it means "I love you" in Bulgarian
edit › did you really find a prospective Bakalov?!

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....

"It's Monday, Vlad. We have class. In fact, it's 10 o'clock. In normal terms that means we're late-e." Zoya stammered out. The tips of her ears turning red as she felt her lips touch her cheek. She stared down at the ground a moment. "If you want we can skip class..." she breathed in his ear. She knew what he had said. Even if it was in Bulgarian and even though it had sounded nothing like her native tongue.

"The Room of Requirement is open..." Zoya suggested. Her voice barely above a whisper. Her blonde hair falling awkwardly down into her eyes as she stared down at her fuzzy green slippers. She bit her lip. "Do you want to .....skip today...or do you have academic duties to attend too..." she chuckled. Running a hand through her hair. Leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. She just wanted to forget all the fighting that they had been doing for what seemed like longer than two years. She was sick of being competitive. Of trying to prove themselves aganist the other. Zoya just wanted things to be the way that they once were.

"Besides, I really don't want to go all the way back to my dorm and change into my real clothes," she paused. "Then have to run all the way to class and then by the time I do get to Charms I'll probably be more than twenty minutes late which defeats the purpose of going. And I'm sorry that I look like Medusa right now in my pajamas...." her voice trailed off. Rubbing the back of her neck. "But I am rather fond of my frog slippers." she giggled. "Islav...I want to try and start over." Zoya blushed. "I don't want to fight anymore...I don't want to feel alone. I am sick of the blame of letting you go. It was my biggest mistake..." she paused.

"I don't know what happened between us. I don't know where to begin. I just haven't been myself without you. And I don't feel happy. The world seems like a dull shadow without you...and I know that I am probably just rambling on and on like a git." Her blue eyes met his darker ones for a mere moment. His dark black hair unkempt from where she had just ran her fingers through it a moment ago. The world seemed to fade away and nothing else mattered, but this moment.

Her and Vladislav.

Valdislav and Zoya.

They seemed to be made for one another.

Gravity was a force that seemed to be pulling them towards one another, or maybe, Zoya was just thinking foolishly about all of this, yet she didn't care. All that she knew was that she wanted to make things right between them again.

She waited until he got up from off of his chair and then took his hand and lead him out of the library. She looked both ways and made sure that the corridor was empty before she lead him up the staircases and onto the seventh floor. Her hand still holding onto his. Almost as though she were afraid to let go. Like he might slip away if she loosened her grip on his. She only vaguely remembered where the concealed room was, but eventually, Zoya did manage to find it.

The Room of Requirement. She closed her eyes and then thought up a quiet grassy meadow with a little stream at the bottom of it. The sky pitch black and strewn with stars. The scene almost like the setting of their first date, or at least, how she thought that she remembered it, but that had been almost three years ago. She rubbed the back of her neck and then pushed the heavy oak doors open. Leading him inside.

"Welcome to someplace that only we know..." she breathed. As she dropped his hand and then started to run up the hill. Taking off her slippers as she did so. Running bare-foot. Her hair flying every which way as though, she were a little girl all over again without a care in the world. Her slippers in her right hand.

"C'mon, Vlad. What are you waiting for!" Zoya laid back on the grassy hill-top and then glanced over her shoulder as though she were waiting for him to come and join her. "C'mon, slow poke." she teased him. Laughing. She gazed up at the sky and then glanced up at the constellations and began to name some of them.

"There's Andromeda...over there," Zoya pointed. "And in that corner to the right that's the big dipper ....or the north star..." she murmured. She hadn't even registered that he was probably half-way up the hill by now.

WORDS 944
TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT mentioned above
NOTES Zoya & Vlad <3
CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

[vladislav k. krum]

Mmmhrhmhg, Vladislav grumbled unintelligibly, getting on his feet and stretching his arms, trying to wake up fully. His legs didn’t want to stand, his eyes didn’t want to stretch, and his eyes didn’t want to open. Vlad rolled his head to one side, and then the other. His neck was stiff, too, as if he slept in a tree or something equally uncomfortable. But none of that made him want to go back to sleep when he remembered he was with Zoya.

Ten o’clock… Vlad rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but wonder if people would even notice that they were missing. Teachers, maybe. Some paid more attention to who showed up to class and who didn’t. Transfiguration always had strict rules, but they didn’t have that until the end of the school day. But then, neither Zoya nor Vlad have been making much of an effort to be places this week. They went to class, sure, but Zoya hadn’t been herself, and Vlad was generally nowhere to be found. Nobody would even know what happened.

As Zoya suggested the Room of Requirement, Vlad smiled at her as a form of agreement. What a strange couple of days it was. Mere hours ago, Zoya was having a terrible day, attacked by Bakalov, crying in the library. Vlad worked hard to be out of the public eye by spending all his free time in detention or flying in places he wouldn’t be spotted. Who would have guessed that this morning Zoya would not only invite him to skip class with her, but give him a kiss?

I’ve been dying for a break from class, Vladislav whispered back to her, watching her check her hair and clothes. Zoya might not have thought that she rocked the bedhead look, waking up after a night in a wooden chair, in a library of all places. And not just the library – the infamous restricted section, which was restricted for good reason, mainly because the titles in here ranged from mildly disturbing to outright illegal. Oddly enough, there was a book on petrification and the nastier uses of it on a shelf behind Zoya as she mentioned looking like Medusa. Too bad Vlad wasn’t more into this sort of thing. You look beautiful, Zoe, he said quietly, fully meaning it. Still, this place was slightly creepy and not the ideal location for this – reconciliation, or whatever this was – to be happening. On the other hand, Vlad was nothing short that it was happening, no matter the location. Zoya must have been thinking along the same lines as she called a ceasefire and confessed wanting to try their relationship again.

Zoya and Vlad, take two. Only he would get it right this time, and nobody would be able to interfere.
Zoe, you’re… you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and more, Vlad began his own speech after Zoya had finished. He was a little nervous, and it was difficult to put everything he wanted to say into words. I’ve always belonged to you, even if I didn’t always know it. I live and breathe for you.

[/color] He paused and broke eye contact, instead staring intently at the ground as he stepped closer to Zoya. Looking back into her eyes, he reached out and ran his fingers through hers, not really holding her hands, but letting them brush through each other before they locked together.

I never wanted us to be at each other’s throats… Clean slate? He asked softly, raising their hands to chest level, and straightening out his fingers inbetween hers so their hands were pressed together at the palm before dropping them back to his sides. Vlad looked into Zoya’s eyes. They seemed to hold the entire universe, drawing him in, making him feel insignificant in comparison.

He moved toward her, but she had already grabbed his hand and was pulling him out the door. Vlad clasped her hand tight this time, unwilling to let go. Zoya popped her head into the corridor, taking a moment to check for possible witnesses, before leading him up the stairs and toward the hallway with the enormous painting that hid their destination.

Zoya came to a halt, closing her eyes and thinking up of whatever she wanted the room to be. Vlad quickly did the same, repeating the words “with a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of lilies where I can find it” over and over, concentrating so hard on those details that it gave him a headache, as though he was trying to persuade the room he absolutely NEEDED those objects with sheer will. Feeling Zoya stir at his side, he quickly opened his eyes, and followed her inside.

They stepped onto cool grass, inhaling the nighttime air. A warm breeze stroked Vlad’s face and neck. The oak doors behind them closed with a thud. Vlad couldn’t help but gasp at how… real this all was.
So this is what it’s like inside your head? Vlad mused out loud, extremely impressed with the room, with Zoya, with this idea. Seems like you’re quite a bit out of my league, Zoya Rodelle Andersen, said Vlad, louder this time, since nobody would overhear. Zoya was laughing and smiling and naming constellations. Only half paying attention to where exactly Andromeda was, he jogged up the hill with a little tree, not looking where he was going (instead watching the starlit sky). Vlad looked down just in time to avoid stepping on the neck of a delicate-looking champagne bottle and the bouquet of white lilies that he requested. He smiled and gave the room a nod, as though it could see and appreciate the gesture. Hiding the flowers behind his back, he ran back to Zoya. Underestimating the steepness of the hill and slipperiness of the grass, he ended up running almost right into her. Trying to save the moment, he reached out with the arm that held the champagne at the last second, grabbing Zoya’s waist and pulling her into a stumbling spin. Once they stopped, he presented the flowers, trying in vain to find the right words to accompany the gift.

[/blockquote]





word count › 1028
tagged › Zoya
notes › Krum+Zoya, criminally cute!

[/justify][/size]

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....

"My mind is a very confusing place," Zoya pointed out with a grin. "Very detailed and imaginative, I suppose," she shrugged as she had glanced over at him. This felt kind of like it wasn't real seeing as this almost felt like it was a date and she hadn't been on a date with Vladislav Krum in nearly a year and a half, but it certainly felt like forever that was for sure. "I assure you that I am probably far more out of your league than you are mine." she mused with a nod of her head. Reaching up and running a hand through her hair.

She glanced over and suddenly he was right next to her with a bouquet of white lillies and a bottle of champagine. Leave it to Krum to think of sweet little things to do just to make her swoon. "You flatterer," she blushed. "Thank you very much, Islav..." she whispered. Zoya scotted over and made room for him to sit beside her and then laced her small fingers in-between his rugged ones. "I hope you don't mind this ..." she gestured to the meadow and the evening scene with the stream and all of it's realistic qualities about the room that made it very beautiful and alluring. Almost breath-taking to look at really. "If I must confess. This reminded me of our first date back in fourth year so I had to take myself back here so to speak. If we're starting over." she smiled at him a little. "Then we're offically starting over. Starting right now."

"A clean slate is prefectly fine with me...." her voice trailed off. Hopefully, Bakalov won't try and interfere, but I know that asking for that and that actually happening are too polar things and that it probably won't happen. What are Krum and I now....are we civil, friends, more than friends. I mean we kissed. Sure, it was on the cheek, but we haven't even done that ...for nearly a year and a half. It's no wonder why I feel so confused. Three days ago. I felt so lost and I blamed myself for everything and now, I just feel content and at peace. I like the feeling, I do, but it is very strange. This all seems to be happening rather quickly, but then again, it is not unusual because Krum and I. We have a history with one another. Two years worth of history and it is easier to pick up where one left off if you were already in the middle of the story. And I suppose that we were - we are - in the middle of our own personal story and I don't want it to end. Zoya mused to herself. She seemed to be lost in somewhat of a world - all her own. She didn't think that Vlad would care.

She heard the sound of him popping off the top of the bottle of champagine and then grinned. She smelled the white lillies and then conjured up a vase with water and put them in it. She thought up a table off to the side and then got up from off of the ground and set the vase with the flowers in the middle of the table. Zoya then came right back and took her seat beside Vlad as she leaned and snuggled up next to him.

"So, handsome. What's on your mind now?" she breathed in his ear. "Why do I feel as though we are strangers?" she exhaled. "Strangers that somehow can't live without the other. No matter how hard we try. When in actuality we aren't strangers at all. I wouldn't call us lovers either. Well, not in the sensual sense of things....I don't know. Forgive me, I am just rambling on and on....about a hundred and one different things. Like a foolish little girl." Zoya blushed crimson. Now. Why now. Did she have to go and result to being her shy self. It was Vlad - for merlin's sake - she shouldn't go acting like this. She should be comfortable around him. Well, she was. She just felt so giddy in his presence right now that she couldn't properly think straight to save her life.

The worse part of it all was the fact that she was actually sober. She couldn't even imagine how off the wall she was going to become once she had that glass of champagine that she suspected Vlad was now in the process of pouring. She flicked her wand and music began to play from an old radio that materialized out of nowhere. She bobbed her head to the music and then began to sing under her breath. Knowing the majority of the words by heart.

She fiddled with a blade of grass that she plucked from the hill and then began twirling between her thumb and her index finger. This couldn't have been anymore perfect in Zoya's eyes. The best part was that it was only ten o'clock in the morning. Even though the Room resembled a really late evening. She knew that the two of them had all day to spend with one another.

She wouldn't rush into things because that just seemed silly. And she hated when her friends (or anyone) for that mattered tried to meddle in her relationships with blokes which were her own. Zoya was never one to be blunt about how she felt. She just liked to live in the moment and sure she tended to worry a lot about things from time to time, but at the moment, she didn't have a care in the world.

It felt good.

WORDS 1107 TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT mentioned above
NOTES I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted...and yes, I am listening to Muse. Zoya and Vladislav. They are so adorable. Sorry, it's so long. And yes the last paragraph was sadly inspired by my current situation. - grumble, grumble - wish my friends would leave me alone and let me have my own relationship with my boyfriend. - sigh -
CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

[vladislav k. krum]

Every now and again, from the chaos and disorder of the universe, from the tiny and insignificant details of everyday life, something beautiful was created. The completely random encounters, the decisions that almost weren’t made, the small mistakes that you had to go back and fix, some funny circumstance that made you just a few minutes late. The temperature of the water in your shower, the amount of ink left in the inkwell, whether or not you took the time to double-knot your shoes. Change any one of these things, and everything could have been different. It would have been you helping out the girl who dropped her books, instead of your best friend. It would have been you getting to the train on time that was destined to crash. Or maybe, it would be another person catching the eye of the girl you’d later found out you loved.

In terms of fate, and philosophical subjects like that, Vladislav wasn’t entirely sure what he believed. There were seers, prophecies. Intricacies of cause and effect through time for every event. That was simply fact. It was a bit like potions, in fact. A collection of certain ingredients prepared and mixed in a specific way would result in one potion; but throw in something extra, change the order, leave something out, and you would get something else entirely. Vlad felt it was that way in other aspects of life, too. Destiny, for example. He didn’t think it was written in the stars by some divine hand that things would happen a certain way. The world, their circumstances, the reactions of people, followed no specific path. It was all chance. But the combination of all those things would sometimes allow only one conclusion to take place.

And so it was with Vlad and Zoya. Was there ever really a question of who they would be with, who their hearts belonged to? It was the way it was, because it could not have been any other way.

And yet, just because it was right, just because it was natural, did not mean it was easy. There were people who got in their way last time. First and foremost, there was Bakalov. Vlad’s best friend (former best friend?), persuading Zoya that Vlad was just another dumb jock only interested in one thing. Bakalov schemed and plotted, and in the past, it had paid off. Not only did Bakalov tarnish Vlad’s reputation enough that Zoya believed a rumor about Vlad cheating on her, but in a way, Bakalov actually made it so. Vlad couldn’t guess if that was the goal, he lacked that ability to manipulate people… But when Bakalov hinted that Vlad was a certain way, he slowly became it. Once a loving and faithful boyfriend, Vlad had turned into the kind of guy who spent one night with a girl and never thought of it again. Destiny, doctored by Bakalov. Who was Vlad now? The guy only Zoya could reach, the happy Vlad with his life put together, the Vlad whose biggest problem was which international team to play for? Or womanizer Vlad, now emotionally distant, wanting nothing from girls but sex, breaking the bones in his hand on someone’s ribs every other week?

Vlad uncorked the champagne bottle with a pop. It was a stupid thought to have. Only one of those two options was the real him. And should he stray from that… Well, he would always return. It was inevitable.

Vlad thought real hard about two champagne glasses and felt something cold and smooth roll and hit his hand. Grinning, he filled both glasses half-full with the bubbly drink, handing one to Zoya as she snuggled up against him. Of course he didn’t mind the meadow. It was… Vlad wasn’t sure what it was, because “perfect” just didn’t cut it.

He listened intently to what Zoya had to say. Lovers. That word made him uncomfortable. He’s had girls before in that sense, but love never really came into play. Strangers. Perhaps that was what they were. They were only fourteen when they started dating. Young, inexperienced in matters of love and relations. Maybe they were doomed to begin with. But now… Now they were wiser. There were so many things Vlad knew now – about himself, about girls, about Zoya – that he hadn’t known the first time around. Zoya and Vlad were still the same people, of course, but with two years’ worth of stuff to them.

To a second first date, Vlad pronounced, clinking his glass against Zoya’s and taking a sip. This place was beautiful, but it was nothing compared to his company. Drinking down the rest of his champagne, he set down the empty glass next to the bottle and got back up to his feet. Zoya had conjured up a radio that was playing some pleasant tune he wasn’t familiar with.

He held out one hand, hoping Zoya would accept his invitation. It was a first date, after all. Dancing seemed like a good way to occupy themselves while they talked.

I’ve thought a lot about what I would say to you if this day ever came, he began. His throat felt tight again, like everything Vlad has wanted to tell her but couldn’t was stuck and wouldn’t let him breathe. But then, words just aren’t enough… Vlad laughed nervously. He wanted to say, I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was selfish, I should have left you alone instead of picking fights with you. I need you like I need air. But all they were was words. They could never carry the weight of the meaning he wanted to. Vlad had to get her to understand what he felt, not just have her hear the words. His jaw clamped itself shut. Maybe, he didn’t need to say those things just yet. She didn’t know, but he was sure Zoya felt it, too.

Vlad lead their dance for a while, holding Zoya close. Breathing her in. It was all he’d ever wanted.

word count › 1006
tagged › Zoya
notes › that got too existential, lol. poor Vlad, lost for words... d'awwww.

[zoya r. andersen]

• Zoya smiles like Zoya doesn't care....•
she lives in a world so unaware....

"To our second first date," Zoya grinned. She clinked her glass aganist his and then took a few sips of champagine. She got up swiftly to her feet when it appeared that he wanted a dance. It only seemed fitting given the music and the fact that it seemed like this moment between them wasn't going to end or shatter into millions of pieces anytime soon. For that she was rather grateful really. Her arms wrapped around his waist seeing as he was a foot taller than her, but Zoya didn't seem to mind. In fact, she liked the fact that he was so much taller.

It made her feel a sense of protection. Sure, Zoya was all about being independent and fending for herself. Not needing anyone truly. Fine on her own, but deep down, she needed him. And even she knew that. That she didn't mind relying on him; she didn't mind being looked after when it concerned Vladislav Krum.

For he was the exception to the majority of all of her rules. One way or the other he would find a way to cross that line or break down that wall that she had spent so many years of her life trying to fortify. None of that seemed to matter though. There's a girl who gives a shit behind this wall...you just walked through it. And I remember all those crazy things you said. You left them running through my head. All those crazy things we did. Didn't think about it just went with it. You're always there, you're everywhere.

The room seemed to fade away as the two of them swayed to the music. Zoya listened to what Vlad had to say or rather what he was trying to say, but fully couldn't get out. She laughed to herself. He was rather adorable when he was so flustered. The best part was that she had not a clue as to how or why she had this effect upon him sometimes.

Only that she did.

"You're right," she glanced up at him. Her blue eyes holding his gaze. She felt the intensity behind those dark brown eyes that seemed to make the Andersen girl go weak in the knees. "Words aren't enough...." her voice trailed off. She leaned forward and then kissed him full on the mouth. She didn't have to think about it. She just did it. She felt no ounce of regret about it neither. No pang in the back of her mind that she shouldn't have or that she should've waited because it just felt right and when Zoya wanted something. Well, she always had been the one to just go after it.

Vladislav Krum included.

Her arms dropped to her sides. As her eyes slid close and she let herself get lost. She didn't care about what happened after that. Fate could have control of this entire day for all she cared. That second first kiss. It had to happen.

She had to initate it. Subconsciously, so that she could completely forgive him for the wrongs that he might or might not have committed. So that she could forget every accusation that Pavel Bakalov had ever made aganist Krum because a part of her still felt confused on who she should truly believe. In her heart of hearts, though, she knew that Vlad's word was more to be trusted than Pavel's was for one thing.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. Smiling. A genuine smile that reached her blue eyes and made them seem all the brighter. "You know what they say," she shrugged casually. "Actions speak louder than words." the tips of her ears burned red. She glanced down at her pajamas and then frowned a moment. Very much dissatisfied by her attire. She ran a hand through her hair and then walked to the corner of the room conjuring up a place to which she could change and hiding behind the curtain as she straightened her hair with her wand and slid into a sleek black dress that she had summoned from her closet in her dorm. Unlike, Vladislav. Zoya happened to be very skilled at wand-work, summoning things, conjuring. The girl was in love with the subject of Charms.

Besides, magic wasn't the only thing that could be charmed. Right? She chuckled to herself at that silly thought. She decided aganist high heels or any kind of shoes. One. They were alone. Two. Pumps, anything with a heel, Zoya just considered to be an unneccessary evil. She stepped out from behind the little changing area she had made for herself. A black rose pinned up in her blonde hair that she let hang down loosely to the small of her back. A touch of make-up, but not heavily so. Her cheeks void of blush and only light grey eye-shadow and a pale pink lipstick, but Zoya pulled it off.

Subtle beauty had always been one of her greatest strengths regardless, if the seventeen year old girl realized it herself or not. Her black dress was a v-neck and had spaghetti straps. It billowed out at the end as it came right past her knees. Then again short dresses always did look longer on her. Sometimes, when she was younger, she had envied those girls that had height on their side, but now, she wondered why she ever did. Her petite statute was something that as a full grown young woman she embraced.

Hadn't Sergey always told her that no man could willingly resist a petite russian girl with as much fire as she had? Hadn't he also told her from the time she was small that the best things came in small packages. Along with the fact that he'd pummel any bloke who ever so much as looked at her the wrong way, but Sergey had always been extremely protective of her. He was her older brother, but over the years, he became more like a father figure that she never really had. All wrapped up in one amazing, Sergey Andersen.

WORDS 1207 TAGGED Valdislav
OUTFIT mentioned above
NOTES Awesomeness above

CREDIT PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION