[attr="class","backgsquib"]

[attr="class","lyric1squib"]centuries

[attr="class","lyricbgsquib"]

[attr="class","lyric2squib"]Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me

[attr="class","textbodsquib"] This was probably doing anything but taking Marlena’s mind off of the impending doom that was her family slowly but surely losing all of their magic. Visiting a Quidditch pitch had been an odd last ditch effort to get her mind off of things, but that hadn’t gone as planned. Marlena had hoped alone time would help, and she could bet money that there would be no one around a Quidditch pitch… but that hadn’t exactly panned out as desired. The silence had been deafening, in all honesty, and then someone had turned up anyways. But Marlena’s usual tactic of surrounding herself with friendly faces just wasn’t working as well. Kes was good about taking her mind off of things, as was that whole costume shopping excursion, but that had still only been temporary. It was all nice and short-lived but did nothing to ease her nerves in the long run. So Marlena had decided to visit the famed Museum of Quidditch at the end of the day. A last last ditch effort to take her mind off the elephant in the room. Her Quidditch-playing family was falling apart.

Marlena knew the world of Quidditch and Broom-Making inside and out. She had grown up in the stands, watching her father, and then Bazyli, Jacek, Cyprian, and finally Adam soar through the air. She knew the strengths and weaknesses of all the positions, the pros and cons of every play. She could do anything related to Quidditch… except actually play. And the same went for her mother’s side of the family, the famed Bukowski Broom-Makers. Marlena knew what went into each broom, the details and intricacies of each wood type and spell. She had grown up in the Bukowski Brooms offices and had put in so much work as of late that her mother considered her an actual employee - but she would never make a broom. And that had always been Marlena’s curse. Her father and her brothers - they were Wrońskis. They would zoom around on Bukowski broomsticks and maneuver in ways that would be immortalized. The Wronski Feint was what had started the legacy, and that was why her father took it all so seriously. It had never been his legacy - it was something he had forged on his own. But Marlena… she was just Marlena. She was a Squib with the Wroński name and nothing else.

Until now. Because now, there were no Wrońskis soaring through the air, and no Bukowski in the Hogsmeade office making brooms. Oliver was probably still making designs, because he could never bloody rest, but the Scottish Bukowski Brooms building was the quietest it had been in the ten years Marlena had known it. Her Aunt Ksenia had been in Poland when the borders had gotten closed down, managing the main office in Grodzisk, so she was spared, but the rest of them were suffering at the hands of this illness. They were losing their magic… and turning into what she was, essentially. Which was scary to Marlena, because that wasn’t who they were supposed to be. She was the odd one out. The Squib that had to forge her own path, much like her father had done even if he didn’t want to admit it. This cold or flu or whatever it was, it was bringing out a bitter side of her father. A side that she hadn’t seen since the year Marlena hadn’t received her Durmstrang letter. Her older brothers didn’t even want to look at her, as if they were ashamed, and her mother was just trying her hardest to keep them all together. Adam was the only one that still had a smile on his face, despite it all.

So maybe going to the Museum of Quidditch was doing anything but taking her mind off matters, but Marlena didn’t know what else to do. She had tried to surround herself with friends to distract herself from what was happening, and that had been short-lived. She had tried isolating herself, but that, too, was just a dead end. So now she would try to face it all head on somewhere that was surrounded by strangers. Marlena had set up camp on a bench in the museum, her legs crossed like she was sitting through a primary school assembly as her gaze was steadily focused on the display before her. The first broom used to successfully perform the Wronski Feint by Grodzisk Goblins Seeker Józef Wroński, a Bukowski Gepard 3001 crafted by Apolonia Bukowski. Both of her parents, forever immortalized in the world of Quidditch. And her Marlena was unable to tear her eyes away from the smallest sliver of the past while the very two people mentioned on that plaque sat in Pyxis, slowly losing their magic.

Marlena noticed the movement in the corner of her eye all too easily. She had been so focused, so isolated, it had stood out to her like a bright flash of light in the dark. She perked up and turned her head towards the movement, her eyes wide, then relaxed only slightly as she recognized the man. She did know the Quidditch world like the back of her hand, after all, and Marlena was the black sheep in the family in that she supported Scotland over Poland - much to Adam’s dismay. “Have I been hogging the display?” Marlena asked jokingly, sitting up with her shoulders slightly back as she met Krum’s eyes.

@krum | 928 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

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legends are told

Some turn to dust or to gold

But you will remember me for centuries

Viktor didn’t have answers, and he wished that he did. When Vzá asked him what was happening, he had wanted to have the answers for her. He had wanted to be able to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But it wasn’t that easy. He knew that they were sick. He knew that Rae was sick. And he didn’t know what to think about that. He knew that he was worried about his wife. And he worried about others. There were plenty of others that he was worried about. He hadn’t seen Narcissa in a couple of days, and if she didn’t answer the door tonight when he stopped, he was going to break it down. He knew that that was probably extreme, but he was worried.

He was worried about all of them. It seemed to have not gotten to the island. He had worried about Harry, and Hermione, and the kids. He didn’t think that it was affecting children at all really, but Liam was older than seventeen, and Adaline was seventeen. He didn’t know where the cut off was. No one did. No one knew anything about it. He thought that that was worse. Not knowing anything was worse. They didn’t have answers. They didn’t have anything. And he was worried about the country. He was worried about all of them. Viktor’s worrying came on so many levels. About so many people. He had moved to England knowing only a handful of people, and now he thought that the web of people that he knew, and could worry about, had only grown.

Getting away from all of it for a little while was important. He knew that Desirae and the kids were safe in the tower. Even without magic she was protected there, and she could manage without magic. As much as he hated to think about that, he knew that she could. She had done it before. He thought that she would be okay. And yet, he was sure that there were plenty of others that were not so lucky. People that had never gone without magic. People like him. Viktor had never known a day without magic, and yet, for some reason, he had gotten to keep his. He had gotten to keep that ability, that one thing that made him who he was. He was Viktor Krum. And once upon a time, that had meant something. Something even more than it meant now.

Because he was well aware that there were still plenty of people that knew who he was. He hadn’t disappeared Dana had died that had seemed like the best move, and he thought that it had been. He had gotten to spend time with his daughter, and actually learn how to be a father. Now Vzá was nine, and he didn’t think that he could have been prouder of her if he had tried. And Jack. He had Jack now, and he didn’t think that he had ever anticipated having more kids after Dana had died. But then Rae had come into his life, and they had had Jack, and Viktor didn’t think that either one of them would be opposed to more. But now was not the time. They had other things to worry about. The fate of the world, for one thing. They had that to worry about.

Not as much as some other people might have, but Viktor was going to worry. Hermione was going to be caught in the middle of it, and he knew that that was going to cause him to worry. She was his best friend. For as different as they were, she really, truly was. She was the one person he had come to England knowing that he could count on. Well, one of two. She and Fleur had been the people that he had been counting on. And they had been there, when he had needed them.

Ducking out of his office Viktor made his way down the hall, and he smiled a little bit when he came upon the girl standing in front of the display. “I think you’re allowed.” He knew her. He knew her whole family, at least by reputation. And there was something pretty special about a family like the Wrońskis when you ran a quidditch museum. “What brings you to the museum, Miss Wroński? Coming to check on your parents’ exhibit?”

@ marlena • 737 • viktor's outfit

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[attr="class","backgsquib"]

[attr="class","lyric1squib"]centuries

[attr="class","lyricbgsquib"]

[attr="class","lyric2squib"]SOME LEGENDS ARE TOLD
SOME TURN TO DUST OR TO GOLD
BUT YOU WILL REMEMBER ME

[attr="class","textbodsquib"]Watching her family go through this sickness had been tough for Marlena. It was tough to watch Adam lose his magic, because if anyone didn't deserve this, it was her younger brother. Adam had always been the one with a smile on his face. The one to take her side every time Marlena conveniently got left out of an invitation to a Quidditch game. And he was good when it came to Quidditch. Adam had a sort of joy about him when he flew around. Not to say that it hadn't been tough to watch all of them lose their magic. Bazyli was still safely in Poland, as was Aunt Ksenia, but Jacek and Cyprian had lost their magic. And their entire stay at Pyxis, they had hardly even glanced at Marlena when she had stopped by--as if she angered them. As if this was her fault. Her parents, too, had lost their magic, and both had handled it entirely different. Apolonia, ever the pillar of sobriety and apathy, had taken it all in stride as if nothing was amiss. Marlena had been her messenger woman and all-around assistant as far as Bukowski Broom business even as the small Polish woman was stuck in her bed.

Her father... he had been a bit more bitter. Still was, really. And Marlena could sympathize. His whole life had been Quidditch. Being without magic, losing that part of himself--it was like losing everything. But her father had always been filled with more fire. A sharp contrast to her mother's ice. So his way of dealing with it all was to be angry about it. To mutter about how unfair it was--how he was being reduced to nothing more than a Squib. Obviously, visiting him had not been easy for Marlena. But she tried to tell herself that he wasn't going out of his way to hurt her. That this was just his way--Jozef tended to just say what was on his mind, no matter what. Marlena just had to remind herself it was about him, not her--although, that was hardly an easy feat. But for the first time ever, she had to be the strong one in the family, because she was the only one not losing something big.

Marlena had had a tougher time than usual clearing her head. She supposed cliff diving and going out drinking with friends would only take her so far. Immersing herself in something that only reminded her of what her family was losing was probably ironic and dumb--but Marlena had reached a point where she was willing to do anything. She felt a smile twitch at the corner of her mouth at Viktor's reply, turning on her heel to face him. "Oh, we're not worried about that. It's in good hands," she replied. And it was, truly. Marlena remembered when her father had finally retired that old thing--it had hardly been a debate. "Just had a lot on my mind. Not that being around Quidditch anything helps clear anything up..." she replied with a small shake of her head and a heavy sigh.

@ krum | 517 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

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LEGENDS ARE TOLD

SOME TURN TO DUST OR TO GOLD

BUT YOU WILL REMEMBER ME FOR CENTURIES

Without knowing what was going on, Viktor thought that it was safe to say that they were all worried. That everyone was worried. The country was in a state of emergency, and they had been for months. It hadn’t lessened. Nothing had changed. They had watched them all going through this, and he hadn’t known what to do. Or how to help. He had no answers. He had no answers for any of them. And he didn’t think that there was anything that they could do. There was nothing that he could say. Because he still had his magic. And that didn’t make any sense. If he could have traded it, he would have. He would have given his for any of them to have theirs. To protect them, he would have done anything.

But he thought that there were so many of them that would have. That would have traded what they had, for the health of someone else. He would have given anything to protect Rae from this. To make sure that she wasn’t suffering for whatever this was. Because it was random. It wasn’t seeming to hit in any sort of pattern. They were being taken down at random, and he thought that he had read somewhere that it had slowed down. That the rate of infection was falling off. But that didn’t mean that they weren’t sick. That didn’t take away what had happened or give back what they had lost.

Things were forever changed. And there was no changing that. Not now. They were stuck with what had happened. They were stuck with the fact that they didn’t have magic. That they were all going to have to figure out how to exist like this. Exist. Not live. Because living implied that there was going to be something more to it. That they were going to get something out of their lives now. There was no living like this. There was existing. And he knew that. He had seen it in his wife’s eyes. He had heard it in Narcissa’s voice. They were dealing with something that he couldn’t even understand.

He knew that he needed to get his mind off of it and try and focus on work. But that was hard. Because he had his magic. He could still appreciate this place. But it wasn’t the same. Quidditch had been invented here in England, and now that magic was the way that it was, he was concerned about being able to continue the league. At least on the scale that they had before. Too many of the best athletes in the league were now on the bench. And how long were they supposed to leave them there? Cutting them for no magic seemed harsh. It wasn’t something that they could have helped, but he didn’t think that there was any way around it, unless they started getting their magic back all of a sudden.

Which he doubted.

Viktor was glad to see a familiar face in the young woman that had spoken though. It was good to see anyone really. And he knew that she wasn’t sick, but he thought that her concern would have been more like his. The feeling of helplessness for the people that she cared about. “I understand that…” He did. Not being able to get away from it was just something that they were all dealing with in their own ways. “How are all of the Wroński’s holding up?”

@ marlena • 581 • viktor's outfit

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0