Post by Dimitri Sokolov on Aug 9, 2012 0:19:49 GMT -5
Dimitri was not having a fantastic time in Spain so far. He had arrived just before the Fall Term was slated to begin, and found the country to be aggravatingly warm in comparison to Durmstrang. Furthermore, while his English was awful at best, his Spanish was downright nonexistant. So more than one person was treated to the fiasco that was the hulking young man pantomiming crude directions until he had finally arrived in Drakborough, and then the school.
However, there things became even more complicated. He was already behind - just coming in and all, but he was decidedly different in comparison to the other students. He was taller, and he was much, much larger than most of the others. The Russian boy looked more at home in a boxing ring or some adult venue rather than at school. At least in Durmstrang, there had been others like him...and there he could talk freely and casually with his friends. Here, he had none. And while he understood small smatterings, he had to focus and translate in his mind, causing his already dark expression to appear downright sour, and drive others away.
Dimitri was definitely NOT having a fantastic time in Spain so far. Thankfully, he was given written instructions which were by far easier to comprehend, but still, he was a stranger in a strange land...and surprisingly lonely. Lonely was the last thing he would expect to be - but, then, he had not expected Mikael to throw the fit he did that lead to Dimitri's expulsion.
That memory fresh in mind, the large Gryffindor's brow furrowed and he sighed. His only regret was that he had burdened his Papa and Mama with this relocation. His "scholarship" had transfered at least in part, but still. Traveling expenses and the like meant that the quality of his clothes was a few shades below that of the rest of the students. This was something he was used to, but it did not help his social standing.
This morning, all he wanted was to close his eyes, eat some Grenki, and then get back to working out in earnest. The grounds here would be good for his routine. Many arches and handholds for climbing and pull ups, areas for running, and he would find SOMETHING to lift if the castle did not have a weight room. But Grenki for breakfast...that would be just the thing to boost his mood...
...but the elf brought him a salad.
Dimitri regretted raising his voice the moment he spoke, but given his stresses, he snapped at the creature, barking at it in the only tongue he was comfortable in - so that the Feasting Hall could see and hear the terrifying new mountain of a lad shouting harsh Russian at an elf.
[Russian]"St. Peter's SACK! Grenki! GREN-KI. Not salad! It's NOT that hard to understand! Bread! Milk! Eggs! Oil! Cheese! A CHILD could make it! I need CARBS you pointy eared little imp!"
Dimitri realized he was standing, towering over the trembling little creature, had blinked quickly before sitting, abashed, and lowered his voice several decibels, using a good part of his limited English to apologize, badly.
"I....sorry....no more yell."
With just a hint of color rising to his face, he began to eat his...salad....ashamed of himself. Real men did not lose their cool like that...Papa would be disappointed....
However, there things became even more complicated. He was already behind - just coming in and all, but he was decidedly different in comparison to the other students. He was taller, and he was much, much larger than most of the others. The Russian boy looked more at home in a boxing ring or some adult venue rather than at school. At least in Durmstrang, there had been others like him...and there he could talk freely and casually with his friends. Here, he had none. And while he understood small smatterings, he had to focus and translate in his mind, causing his already dark expression to appear downright sour, and drive others away.
Dimitri was definitely NOT having a fantastic time in Spain so far. Thankfully, he was given written instructions which were by far easier to comprehend, but still, he was a stranger in a strange land...and surprisingly lonely. Lonely was the last thing he would expect to be - but, then, he had not expected Mikael to throw the fit he did that lead to Dimitri's expulsion.
That memory fresh in mind, the large Gryffindor's brow furrowed and he sighed. His only regret was that he had burdened his Papa and Mama with this relocation. His "scholarship" had transfered at least in part, but still. Traveling expenses and the like meant that the quality of his clothes was a few shades below that of the rest of the students. This was something he was used to, but it did not help his social standing.
This morning, all he wanted was to close his eyes, eat some Grenki, and then get back to working out in earnest. The grounds here would be good for his routine. Many arches and handholds for climbing and pull ups, areas for running, and he would find SOMETHING to lift if the castle did not have a weight room. But Grenki for breakfast...that would be just the thing to boost his mood...
...but the elf brought him a salad.
Dimitri regretted raising his voice the moment he spoke, but given his stresses, he snapped at the creature, barking at it in the only tongue he was comfortable in - so that the Feasting Hall could see and hear the terrifying new mountain of a lad shouting harsh Russian at an elf.
[Russian]"St. Peter's SACK! Grenki! GREN-KI. Not salad! It's NOT that hard to understand! Bread! Milk! Eggs! Oil! Cheese! A CHILD could make it! I need CARBS you pointy eared little imp!"
Dimitri realized he was standing, towering over the trembling little creature, had blinked quickly before sitting, abashed, and lowered his voice several decibels, using a good part of his limited English to apologize, badly.
"I....sorry....no more yell."
With just a hint of color rising to his face, he began to eat his...salad....ashamed of himself. Real men did not lose their cool like that...Papa would be disappointed....