December 27th, 1888 — A Party in St. Petersburg

The society of St. Petersburg was something else! Glittering and beautiful everything seemed to sparkle, everything seemed opulent in a way that made England seem practically puritanical.  Maddie wasn’t sure she would ever get used to it.  The parties were hosts would try to out do each other on the extravagance of the dishes, where jugglers, acrobats and dancing bears seemed to be regular after dinner entertainment put the life she had shared in England to shame. 

Despite spending the year in Europe, in glittering parties and fine company Maddie would never get used to this society. The well bred I Europe seemed to spend even more time and money on parties than they did in England – at least as far as Maddie could see.  Although she was rather more acceptable to the social crowd here – after all well moneyed was as good as well bred as far as they were concerned – and her mothers name which she had been using in Europe at Ana’s insistence. Somehow, she always felt like a sparrow among a flock of peacocks. 

She had hoped tonight would be different – it was a ‘quiet’ gathering, or as quiet as Ana seemed to support.  A dinner party in the home of a halfblood ‘prince’ of the Russian court that Ana had known from Durmstrang – although the term seemed misapplied because the home was far from what Maddie would consider a palace.  It was nice but nothing in comparison to some of the places she had been to.  There would be 40 for dinner – a not inconsiderable number, but a number of ‘explorers’ had been invited to regale the company with tales from their travels.  Maddie had been disappointed not have been sitting next to one or other of them at dinner, but when the company broke up for games or quiet talks she had procured an introduction to one gentleman – who she had been informed was English, as the only other of her countrymen there she was keen to acquainted. 

Ana’s husband made the introduction in his native tongue ’Sir, please allow me to introduce Miss Madeleine Kozlova, she was most keen to hear of your adventures.’ he offered stiffly.  Maddie inclined her head in acknowledgement and greeting. 

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DRESS - the blue

Arven Fisk

  

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Arven would've been far more content tramping the shores of the Baltic or exploring the dark woodlands beyond the city. But instead he was trapped within four walls, ornate and wide-apart though they were. At least the architecture was imposing and a number of the people were interesting, but Arven was not suited to society functions at all. He was only here because it was implied he would have a further three journal texts published (and paid for) if he attended. And so he did, clad in the finery expected of him, but a little off in numerous ways — a shirt button loose, a scruff to his jaw, a certain wildness to his hair. He did not belong. But at least it was easy to identify him as one of the invited explorers and not mistaken for a fancy socialite.

He was introduced most curtly to a young lady who, despite her well-kept appearance, looked hardly more at home here than he did. "Miss Kozlova", he inclined his head politely. "Arven Fisk, at your service. And only too happy to regale you with an adventure story. What sort of subject are you after? Danger, mystery, discovery? Perhaps something local?"

  

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Maddie couldn’t help but smile at the gentleman before her, he was so different to the others, it was refreshing and intriguing in equal measures – a breath of fresh air in comparison to the vey formal surroundings she found herself in, and there was something in his manners that could not help but make one smile. Her shoulders relaxed and she felt she breathed a little easier next to him. ’A pleasure sir’ she commented in easy Russian, ’and the pleasure is truly all mine’ she switched to English. Georgi, his introductions now made excused himself to drink with the other men, having no interest in standing at the elbow of his wifes pretty little pet all night.

’If you have a story of somewhere far away from here I would be most grateful’ she said conspiratorially with a small laugh. The comment was equal parts joke and truth- she would take any story he would offer – in part because that life seemed like the most wonderful adventure gallivanting across the world as free as a bird, and in part because right at this moment she would love to be just about anywhere else but right here. Maddie fidgeted with a lock of her long blonde hair, ’I’m sure you’ve been a thousand places more interesting than this, and with more interesting people.’


Arven Fisk

  

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Arven understood minimal Russian, but got the gist from her courteous tone. She sounded like a Russian, but behaved like she was in no-man's land. An albeit graceful fish out of water.

And once the gentleman who'd introduced them turned to talk with some other guest, Miss Kozlova did not hesitate in sharing her discomfort with the dinner party she'd landed herself in. Though she did so with a smile.

"Personally I find Saint Petersburg to be one of the wonders of the world", he replied, for the architecture of the city was unapologetically majestic and dramatically ambitious. "But I can relate to always looking beyond one's home. The farthest place from here I can think of..." the tall wanderer glanced up at the wall, as if imagining a world map, "might be Brazil, much of which is covered by the vast rainforests of Amazonia. It was there I almost had my hand torn off by a jaguar."

  

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’The beauty, I do not deny’ she enthused delighted, ’But I would much rather hear of your Amazonian Jaguar than just about anything else in the world right now.’. It was true, Maddie was over Russia, over Ana’s poking and proding and being thrown at any gentleman that stood still long enough to be harranged into a dance, or worse any old fart with a pulse. The Russian woman seemed to have taken the marriage clause as a challenge rather than a requirement either that or she was tiring of having Maddie around and wanted her gone from her home and marriage was the most convenient way to do that.

Before he could regale her with his story however, a thought struck the blonde, ’Excuse my asking sir, but are you related to Miss Zelda Fisk?’ under other circumstances asking if the shared surname meant they were related would be a long shot, but the shared surname, a rare one at that, and the fact that they were English meant the odds were significantly shortend.

Arven Fisk

  

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He'd been roguishly testing the waters with that teaser; for they both knew it was not appropriate to speak of such a gory, foreign tale to a fair young ingénue.

But said ingénue responded with enthusiastic curiosity, and Arv cast his memory back to that afternoon in Brazil...

Only to return to the present as Miss Kozlova transpired to know his family. The Fisks were a fairly well-known legacy back in England; all the more so these days for their relation to the Minister of Magic. He responded in the affirmative; "yes, Zelda is one of my younger cousins. Have you met?"

  

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’Why yes, we were friends’ she explained, ’I am delighted to meet someone from home, especially someone with interesting stories to recount’. She had every intention of returning to the jaguar incident and stories of more excitement than the small town doings of Hogsmeade as soon as she had dealt with all social proprieties.

’I didn’t know Zelda had such interesting relations’ she remarked, ’that’s not say that her other relatives are not interesting…’ she bit out hastily. She realised she was blushing and tried to hide behind a drink from her glass of champagne.

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"Oh I'm not all that interesting", he drawled modestly, but stepped back the conversation a moment; "so you are from England yourself?"

She spoke Russian, referred to Saint Petersburg as her home, and her family name was Kozlova — so naturally he'd assumed this was where she was born and raised, with any schooling done at Durmstrang. Perhaps Zelda had been a pen friend. But no, she referred to Zelda's home as her own, and Arven found this intriguingly complex.

  

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He might insist that he wasn't interesting but he had the air of someone who knew exactly how fascinating girls like her found him, but that hadn't helped her control her blush.

'My mother was Russian,' she explained, 'But I was born and raised in England' she explained. 'I know Zelda from school' she breezed. 'But now we know that we are not only countrymen but also clearly close family friends' she grinned, a laugh whispering around her eyes, 'you are free from the contraints of propiety and may tell me your most interesting story, rather than a nice, but sanitary version suitable for upper class dinner parties and squemish debutantes. ' She sat down in the window seat that over looked the princes expansive gardens, and invited him to take the other seat.

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Arven Fisk

  

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He was quietly charmed by the enthusiasm and the blushing curiosity, though being such a young creature he did not feel the instinct to sweep her off her feet as he might an older example. And yes he did tend to attract blazing fascination, but that did not make her one of a collection or a crowd. This English-Russian fish-out-of-water was quite special; this was already evident to him.

"Alright, young Miss Kozlova. Then let's name the jaguar... Antonia. She was a great, lithe, prowling thing in her prime; but hungry. So you can imagine her intrigue when she travelled to the outskirts of her rainforest to find some tall human fool feeding dried fruit to a couple of cute tamarin monkeys. Antonia wasn't interested in the fruit; she wasn't even interested in the monkeys. What had really caught her eye was the human's outstretched hand."

  

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She couldn’t help but laugh at the image, of this strangely dashing gent obliviously feeding monkeys. It was somehow oddly innocent, an action that chaperones warnings and three volume novels had told her where not often traits found in the sort of men who threw themselves around the globe on adventures. The rest of the party was entirely forgotten as she quizzed the gentleman.

She did however, notice Ana by the fireplace, sandwiched between her sour face husband and the host, giving her evil eyes. She was meant to be schmoosing with the sons of the ultra wealthy, not buried in a corner with an English man rapt up in stories of a life that Ana would rather die than let her experience. Tearing her eyes away from her furious chaperone, she prompted the gentleman to continue. ’And how did our hero best this cunning beast of the jungle?’

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Arven chanced a glance round at the fireplace, where Miss Kozlova had evidently caught the gaze of a very disapproving family. Arv smiled slightly as he returned his attentions to Miss Kozlova. He wasn't surprised by her family's admonishing expressions, but nobody had warned him against corrupting the young.

While she'd asked for his most interesting story, that was quite the ask, and this was not his most interesting story. But it was the one that clashed the most with their current situation, and thus, he thought, the one she'd enjoy the most.

"Ah, well our hero in this story is Antonia the jaguar, not the fool with the outstretched hand. But for one wild moment it looked like they might become allies. For while the monkeys hastily dispersed, the jaguar approached very slowly, her teeth sheathed and her yellow eyes steady. The fool did not move; he was steady too. Hand still outstretched, even as Antonia came closer, closer... until her maw very nearly touched his fingers. It was a magical moment he'd never forget.

And then, of course, she changed her tact. In a sliver of a second, the jaguar slammed her jaws down on the hand, digging in her fangs and growling furiously. Luckily, her meal was not just a fool — he was also a wizard, and had ensured his wand was in his other hand. And I'm sure you can think of all manner of spells that can unchomp a jaguar from your hand."

  

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Maddie was determinedly not looking at Ana, who was having a hard time keeping her expressions subtle while trying to get the attention of the blonde who was very much done with dreary parties. Sitting in a window seat with this gentleman being ignored by one of the well to do gents she had been brought to impress was by far the best thing that had happened to her in months.

Although as he continued speaking she found it easier to forget about the angry statuesque brunette. His quip about the jaguar being the hero brought another light laugh to her throat, which died as she leaned into the suspense of the moment – the elegant creature slinking towards the man, captivating him with her presence, holding him entranced but without a jot of magic in her body.

So much so that when the tempo changed she realised she had been holding her breath, and was now gasping slightly, shallow swallows to try and regain her composure. She was not fully prepared to speak when he asked her and her voice sounded breathy and strange to her own ears. ’I can think of rather a few hexes and the like, but I am not sure how many would be useful against a creature like that?’, she half said, half whispered.

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Arv deftly switched the narrative of the story as he returned to his own perspective. "The only spell that sprung to mind in that life-or-death moment was a bizarre one; just because it was the last spell I'd used that day. Aguamenti. But I used it with such insistence and urgency that our friend Antonia got a full-force jet of water shot straight into her eyes. She flew back and fled. She did take a chunk of my hand with me, but..."

He held up one large, weather-beaten hand for her to inspect. "All better now. Just like magic."

  

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Maddie clapped when he completed his tale and took a moment to examine the large weathered hand. 'that definitely lived up to its expectations' she laughed, a small hand playing with the necklace at her throat. The gent seemed no worse for wear but it seemed impolite to ask if he had lost other parts to maurading animals, but her eyes did scan his long lean form.

'so where will the wind take you next?' she asked her eyes bright with the excitement and possibility that the answer might hold. How she would have loved to have lived a life like that. 'what adventure holds more interest than polite dinners with polite people', she tried not to make the word polite sound like an insult but somehow even as she said it it seemed like a grave offense to be considered polite

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Arven chuckled, further charmed and amused by his keen audience. But the question sent his gaze out the window, where a wide town square gave room to several carriages. "Right out there, I should think. The mountains and plateaus beyond the city." But it would not be a very long trip, not like the old days. Recently he'd taken to keeping Britain and his family as a base, and heading on shorter trips abroad. It suited him fine.

"But what of you, Miss Kozlova?" he asked, drinking from his glass and surveying her over the top of it. "Where would you wish to find yourself? Hopefully not between the jaws of a jaguar..."

  

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