| Details for En-Gage-ing The Enemy(?) |
| Summary: | In Which Gage Challenges The Variel Victorious- with a few extra rules. |
| Date: | 1939-02-04 |
| Location: | Club Room, Hogwarts |
| Related: | Part 1: Prologue Part 2: The Fight Part 3: Aftermath Part 4: Epilogue as well as Owls Fair In Love And War. Weasley-Sykes Showdown and Solutions To A Puzzle. |
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Following his return to the room after speaking with Esther, Variel nods to Gage regarding his interest in a match of his own, and glances to Arevan to see if she wants to take the stage with her friend.
Ulysses looks at Sybil for a moment, and a warm smile is offered. She is, after all, family of a sort. And that is a driving force for him, "Well enough, truly. It can get overwhelming, but I have my distractions." While he's a member of the dueling club, he'd not come today to practice. He'd come to support an ally, and see to the defeat of a rival. And both had been accomplished. At the mention of Dora, his eyes darken just a bit, "You'd be surprised, but I could say the same about her. It's been… way too long, But yes. Even if I can't drag the others along, we must."
Sybil's face suffuses with another smile. "Then I'll look forward to it," she tells Ulysses. "Perhaps we could all walk into Hogsmeade together and warm up once there in front of a fire with some hot chocolate and cakes." She likes her home comforts apparently, and as she speaks she pulls a letter from the folds of her cloak. "Merlin's beard, I quite forgot that I received this." A touch of colour just paints her cheeks before her smile deepens. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and read this. The weekend then." A flick of one hand to her hair to settle it in a sleek fall of silver about her shoulders and she turns towards the door, starting to pull the letter open as she walks.
Gage snorts as he looks down at Arevan again. He shakes his head, muttering, "No." He looks around, his eyebrows creasing as he ponders, and ends up locking his dark blue eyes on Variel as he lifts his head at him. "You." His shoulders lift a tad. He /is/ the victor, after all.
With her biscuit retrieved, Madeline makes her way over to Ulysses, glancing at Variel for a moment as well, before back to the seventh year ago. "So it's okay now?" she asks. "I don't have to throw anymore pillows at him?"
The redhead holds his ground and watches Gage's insistence, then nods. "If you like." He tilts his head towards the other end of the mats, moving to claim one for himself. Madeline's question leaves him smiling faintly as he turns to await Gage's stance.
"Oh, I'm certain you still can," Ulysses offers with a nod as he watches his distant cousin leave. "Just now… perhaps in fun." Sighing, he looks around, "I think I'm ready to leave as well, though…"
Madeline looks around for a moment, then up at Ulysses again. "Back to Gryffindor?" she asks hopefully. "Can I walk with you? I don't think I care for dueling very much." Even if things did end up alright.
With an overexagerrated grunt, Ulysses nodds at Madeline, offering his arm instead of his hand this time. Propriety, and all, "Sure, Squirt." The nickname's gonna stick, whether she likes it or not. "Although don't give up on it too soon. You may eventually find you like it." And with that, once his arm is accepted, he heads out the door, Seventh-year escorting the First-year.
For a moment Gage stands where he is, staring at Variel as he considers and biting his lower lip. Then he nods and steps towards the mat, taking up his position on the side opposite the sixth year. His hand moves to his wand dangling at his chest, lifting it up and over his head, winding the string around his wrist.
Variel watches Gage go through the little ritual and lets his own wand slip from his sleeve. The silver chain dangling from the sleeve jingles faintly as it drops down a touch, neither end visible at the moment. The redhead brings the wand up in a salute to Gage, then adopts a ready position, awaiting an unspoken signal to begin.
Madeline happily takes the arm, beaming up at Ulysses. She takes a moment to wave her free arm at Variel eagerly, though. "Bye, Weasley! Glad everything worked out alright!" she calls cheerfully, before being escorted from the room.
She instantly starts babbling about how she was able to use the color changing transfiguration to draw in the snow and write 'GriFfIndOR' in large, wonky, haphazard letters, and she'll regale poor Ulysses with the tale up seven flights of stairs, if he's not careful.
With students seeping out one by one, it's probably for the best that Elizabeth does as well. She gives Gage a reassuring look as he begins to take his place and prepare to go up against Variel, before she turns to quietly leave as well. The tail of her long, ebony ponytail gently swaying side to side as she slips out without a word.
With his head lowered as he winds the string, Gage ponders, chewing on his bottom lip. His fingers tighten around the handle of his wand when he looks up. He does a haphazard salute in turn, only remembering to do so when he catches Variel's. But the flick is done quickly and with attitude. "Jinxes only?" suggests Gage. "The first to get hit three times loses." He points his wand out at Variel, eyebrows crinkling as he watches for his answer.
"So you mean jinxes and -defensive- spells only? Unless you want us both to lose the third exchange?" Variel offers a vague grin, no malice in the expression.
Gage quietly stares at Variel with little expression as he thinks, and then nods his head. "Jinxes an' defensive," he confirms.
Another nod, then- "Very well." There's a moment of tension between Gage and Variel, and then they begin.
Variel proves to be overly cautious, defending himself from an attack that never comes. Gage, on the other hand, stirs up a smokescreen from which he can operate behind, clouding the air between the two with a screen. Of smoke.
Once more, Variel defends himself against… absolutely nothing. He hears Gage recite the Jelly-Legs Jinx behind the smoke screen… but nothing happens. Odd.
Variel swallows a curse as one of his legs buckles into jelly, leaving him listing violently to one side, while Gage's grip on his wand remains intact- as the cord itself unknots, leaving his failsafe undone.
Again, Variel intones "Relashio!" This time, he's not aiming for a simple string- he catches Gage with the spell, who stumbles back a few paces, his wand clattering to the mats where he'd been standing.
Gage leapt for his wand and snatched it off the ground in a rush, only to hear what would normally be a dreadful intonation- "Oppugno!"- and… get whipped harmlessly by the strings on his wand.
The identical spells whip past each other, slamming into both wizards at once. Variel braces himself an instant before it hits, his aggressive posture reverting to a flailing reel backwards, nearly throwing him off his stance. Gage doesn't have quite as much trouble with his balance, but his feet skid on the mats as he's tossed backwards a few paces, still on his feet, dignity intact.
Variel straightens as he finally catches his balance, letting out a long sigh. "That- I'll be honest, long duels stress me out, a lot. I'm decent at charms, but the stuff I'm good at is rotten for duels, except for Stupefy. You picked good terms for the fight, Hart. Good job." He sounds perfectly genuine.
That's three. Gage slides over the mat and he inwardly counts in his head, cursing and sagging his shoulders in disappointment. His eyebrows furrow as the fourth year sulks, locking his dark blue eyes on Variel. But he still /lost/. A heavy breath escapes the tall boy as he snorts, biting his lip as he stares at the sixth year, considering. He jerks his head down in a single nod, wordless, and then forces himself to extend a hand to Variel, shifting nervously on his feet.
Variel reaches out and takes his hand in a brisk shake, kept short for Gage's sake. "Until another time, Hart. That's the second match in recent memory I've seen end with the same spell gone both ways. If you think of more clever duel rules, let me know- others'll like'em, too, I'd bet."
Gage's gaze falls to their hands when they shake, pensive as he bites his lower lip. His gaze lifts to the pendant when he draws his hand back, frowning at it, and his fingers curl in to make a fist as new annoyance fills him. "Aye," he mutters out testily as he lifts his eyes from the pendant, once again dropping his head heavily in a nod. He snorts as he turns to step off the mat.