King Of The Silver Screen [OPEN]

[Deleted]

WORDS: 493 | TAG: @emile | My God by Alice Cooper

Before the champions for the Triwizard Tournament were even thought of being chosen by the goblet, before Émile had to research his fellow competitors from Hogwarts and Durmstrang (because let’s be honest, he was going to win the Beauxbatons vote), he first had to know who to watch out from his own school. The goblet issued a binding contract to whomever it chose, so there was no avoiding that. Émile had it in his head that the actions he chose and followed through during his time prior to the selection would affect whether or not he was going to be picked. With that being said, he had shifted his focus onto his peers from Beauxbatons. He had proven himself over the years to them, but now it actually mattered. What was it that the filthy muggles competed in? The Olympics or something? Pedestrian sporting if you asked him. His parents loved that trash, always muggle this, muggle that. They probably wouldn’t even care if he made it as the champion. And Émile didn’t care that they thought of him that way. He was going to be more successful than his father. He was more successful than his father already. There was no doubt about that.

Observing his fellow Beauxbatons religiously had become one of his daily activities. It wasn’t anything new for them though. Émile had always been known to study his competition. He liked to think he was the hunter, and they were his prey. Because in the end, he always ended up besting the majority of them. If they beat him or escaped his challenges, then they weren’t worth his time anymore.

Today was no different than the day before, and the day before that for Émile. He was seated at the designated table for the Beauxbatons students, which had been mainly ignored by his peers; a large portion of them had already made “friends” with the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students, and preferred to eat and talk with them. What was the point? They only served as a stepping stone for success by Beauxbatons. Émile grabbed a roll off the nearby plate and munched on it as he watched. He had started to get bored over the last few days of doing this. It had seemed to him like someone was spreading rumors about him; the other students were starting to avoid him if he tried to make conversation, or ask about Hogwarts. What was wrong with being inquisitive? Just thinking that someone could be doing that pissed him off. If he found out who it was, he’d whip them into shape, on terms of a duel, of course. Émile wasn’t some violent thug that beat people up. He taught them a lesson with his superior skills. That was much more satisfying. He took another bite of his bread as he continued to watch. There was nothing else to do but this, or sit in the library all day. How dull.

so come one and come all

to the crumbling walls
Of our city now painted with red

credit to nat of adoxography.

[Deleted]

Frieda loved food. Her favorite part about going home for the summer was getting to enjoy her mother's home-cooked meals again. And the fact that Hogwarts had been courteous enough to include food and beverages native to her home country made the towering, intimidating castle feel more like home.

Meal times were always interesting for Frieda. She never sat in the same spot or with the same people twice. Getting to meet so many new people, even those she was competing against for the honor of competing in the Triwizard Tournament, was heaven for the social butterfly in her. At meal times, the competition didn't matter. The camaraderie did. She scanned the Great Hall carefully, looking for her next new friend. Her eyes spotted him sitting alone at the Beauxbatons table, munching on a lonely piece of bread. Perfect.

Frieda walked over to the long table, noting with a frown that no one was sitting by the boy. There were a few other loners sitting at the table, but none directly by him. Odd. She would fix that. She sat down casually beside the blond and began helping herself to an assortment of food and drink. She had never been a light eater, and why should she change that just to impress the competition? After sampling a few of her morsels, she began to watch the boy. He was eyeing the other students with studious care, gauging the competition, no doubt. She grinned. Some people took competition so seriously. She would just enjoy her time at Hogwarts until she was chosen as the champion. Then things would get real.

"You know, they say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but I guess you're not much for American metaphors, are you?" The advice was offered in her thick, yet somehow lovely Ukranian accent. She would befriend this loner, whether he liked it or not.

@emile

[Deleted]

WORDS: 376 | TAG: @emile & @frieda | This Is The Place by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Not much was happening in the Great Hall today. Same old, same old. Émile was really getting bored doing this, watching his fellow Beauxbatons, as well as the other students. He was about to leave, hopefully finding something more entertaining than this, when a girl he didn’t recognize walked over and sat down in the seat beside him. Did he know her? She definitely didn’t look familiar, and Émile was smart enough to know that she wasn’t from Beauxbatons. The air she gave off wasn’t that of a Hogwarts student either, they were too innocent and weak, their lack of understanding was always a dead giveaway. That meant the girl was Durmstrang, Émile’s train of thought confirmed once she talked to him. Keeping his friends close and enemies closer? Émile didn’t have anyone he considered a friend. No one had ever proven themselves worthy enough of that distinction. He was fine with that though, friends weren’t necessary, and his constant need for competition would drive even the most easy-going person away from him eventually. But having his enemies as close as possible was everything to Émile. He lived for the excitement of continual confliction and competition with others. This girl understood him without even meeting him, even though it was simple advice.

“I’ve heard a few every now and then. My mother is American, so it’s only natural right?” It had been extremely funny since he had arrived at Hogwarts to scare people with his English. He had yet to tell anyone from the other schools that he was only half-French though. Not that it mattered, there was nothing too impressive about America at all. They liked muggles too much over there. In France, there was still the sense of elitism among those who deserved it. Émile had come across a few of those kinds, similar to him, whilst at Hogwarts, but they were the nasty kinds of elites. Where he hated muggles for being non-magical, these people were obsessed with blood purity. There was a difference between the two, albeit a very small one. “What can I help you with?” Émile wasn’t sure what the girl wanted, but it was easier to get straight to it, instead of beating around the bush with American metaphors.

so come one and come all

to the crumbling walls
Of our city now painted with red

credit to nat of adoxography.

[Deleted]

Frieda's eyebrows raised in surprise when the boy mentioned that his mother was American. She wasn't entirely sure why she was surprised, but she was. It did explain the lilt in his accent though. She'd heard some of the other Beauxbatons students talk - and had held long conversations with many of them - and they had had that same musical flow in their voices. The flow was there in this boy's voice, but there was something hard and edgy about it. Or it could have been the fact that he obviously wasn't exactly thrilled about Frieda's company. She didn't care. She would make him enjoy her presence.

"You looked lonely," she said bluntly with a friendly smile, helping herself to a second plate, grabbing a spoonful of everything within reach. She eyed the roll the boy had been nibbling on and frowned. The expression quickly evaporated into another bright smile as she offered the boy her newly filled plate. "You really should try some of this. It's delicious, and that roll isn't going to help much when you're hungry again in an hour." Sure, the house elves would be more than happy to feed him. Frieda herself had been by the kitchens multiple times after hours since coming to Hogwarts, and the little beings were always delighted to fill her bag up with goodies.

Filling up yet another plate, Frieda began eating again, savoring every bite. The food at Durmstrang was always good, but this...this was heaven. Swallowing and uttering a satisfied sigh, she wiped her hand on a napkin and held it out to the boy, "I'm Frieda, by the way. Future Durmstrang champion and Triwizard Tournament winner." The challenge in her voice was very evident, and her smile morphed into a smirk to meet that challenge. She was just full of expressions today. She may not be able to win the boy over with her friendship, but something told her that she could at least get his attention with a little friendly competition.

@emile

[Deleted]

WORDS: 434 | TAG: @emile & @frieda | Give It Away by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Another one for the surprise factor on his American heritage. It had become a little game of his, keeping track of how many other students he could confuse. This girl was the first Durmstrang though. Typically they weren’t too enthusiastic about talking to others, at least not the ones that he had run into while out and about. He watched the girl talk as she collected more food for her plate. Even though he had been sitting at the table for a few hours already, Émile had only managed a roll or two. Nothing else had interested him that much. The typical arrangement never consisted of anything sweet enough for his taste, pastries and the likes were always long gone by time he managed to get to the Great Hall for breakfast. Why they couldn’t have made more was beyond him. Maybe he’d make a complaint. “Lonely? Maybe. I’m here to win a competition, not to make friends.” This was his last year of schooling after all, and so far it had been extremely boring. Waiting around all day doing nothing, hoping that the selection of the champions would get closer. And if he wasn’t picked, well, he wasn’t going to lose, so there was no reason to think about that.

As the girl offered him some food from her plate, Émile could feel his stomach growl quietly. That was a sign that he needed to eat. Apparently she was right, the roll wasn’t helping him out too much anymore. Émile nodded thanks as he took the plate and picked up some kind of breakfast sandwich from it, eyeing it for a few seconds before biting in. It definitely had egg and bacon in it, but Émile wasn’t sure what else there was in it. It was good though, that was for sure. He took a few more bites as the girl grabbed more food. Looking at his plate, Émile knew he couldn’t eat all of it, but the thought that there was enough food in front of him for the rest of the day was good enough for him. Finishing off the sandwich and a few other things on the plate, the girl ate everything on her plate before introducing herself. Émile felt a smirk come across his face as she said she would be the future Durmstrang champion and the tournament winner. He was starting to like her. “Émile. Guess we’ll be competing against each other then.” He shook her hand. “You have one thing wrong though. I’m going to be the one winning the tournament.” This was competition at its finest.

so come one and come all

to the crumbling walls
Of our city now painted with red

credit to nat of adoxography.

[Deleted]

Freida grinned with delight as the boy accepted her offer of food. The growl in his stomach was enough to tell her that she was right in offering the food, and it wasn't like they were going to go hungry. She looked across the long table; some dishes were empty but most were still piled high with food. And if her stomach was big enough, she would eat and eat until every last one was polished clean. But she could settle for forcing the blond to eat. As he polished off his breakfast sandwich, Frieda nodded with satisfaction and went to work on an omelet. She made quick work of it, moving on to some kind of meat. She didn't recognize it, but, shrugging, she popped it in her mouth.

Her eyes lit up both from the tastiness of the food, and that Émile had taken her bait. Yes, a little challenge could go a long way, and she could tell he liked a challenge. Well, she would certainly give him one. "Oh ho ho, feisty one, aren't we? I'll have to remember that when I'm giving my winner's speech," she said, grinning. "After all, the last winner of the tournament was from Durmstrang, so it only makes sense for another Durmstrang student to keep the Triwizard Cup in the family, so to speak." Frieda wasn't normally one to push buttons, but this was all in good fun, whether the boy saw it that way or not. She loved to tease, and she could usually keep it from getting out of hand. Something told her Émile needed his buttons pushed, though. He was too stuck up for her liking. He needed to let loose and relax.

"Besides," she said, stuffing another piece of food into her mouth, "one can be friends with their rivals. That's why it's called friendly competition, no?"

@emile

[Deleted]

WORDS: 386 | TAG: @emile & @frieda | Shine by Spektrem

This girl was delusional if she thought Durmstrang was going to win the tournament again. Hogwarts was too, since Beauxbatons had brought Émile, as well as students that were far superior to anything the other schools had to offer. He was sure that the two of them could agree on that. Émile had utmost respect for the Durmstrang students, since it seemed like they understood how everything worked, compared to the Hogwarts…children. Innocent beyond compare and without a care in the world. He had yet to be impressed by any individual since his arrival, whereas the Durmstrangs had continuously intrigued him. Frieda included. He hadn’t met anyone that straightforward about being champion in winning yet, so it was good to know that he wasn’t the only one there.

Émile contemplated her comment about defending the cup title. She wasn’t wrong that it would be good for the school to win again and keep it, but that also meant that one of the other two had so much more to gain by defeating the reigning champions. He frowned slightly when thinking about possibly losing. He was only there to win, and that was it. Losing wasn’t an option that he allowed himself. “Talk all you want, you’re just wasting energy that could be used to try and beat me.” Émile said as he reached for another roll. As much as he had detested munching on the one earlier, after eating all of that food, he felt like he needed another roll to end his meal.

He took a bite out of the roll, scrunching up his face as he chewed, disappointed that it was no longer nice and warm like the ones he had earlier. Forcing himself to swallow it, he placed the remainder of the roll on his plate. “I think calling it a friendly competition is an oxymoron. It’s a tournament, established to push even the best of the contestants to their limit, all for the glory of being the greatest witch or wizard between the three schools.” The point to competing was to win. The schools and media could put friendly in front of it all they want, it was still a tournament to decide who the best of them all was, and failing to see that showed a lack of understanding.

so come one and come all

to the crumbling walls
Of our city now painted with red

credit to nat of adoxography.

[Deleted]

Frieda wouldn't, no, couldn't allow herself to be deterred by the Beauxbaton student's sour attitude. With six siblings, she was used to pouting children, and that's exactly how Émile was behaving. She often got the same response from her brothers and sisters, and she had learned not to be swayed by unsatisfactory responses. She began picking at the remainder of the food on her plate, her stomach finally starting to reach its limit. She was reminded briefly of home, of sitting around their little breakfast table with Frieda doing the same teasing she was doing now. Part of her couldn't wait for the tournament to be over so that she could go home, graduate, and be reunited with her family. Funny how a Frenchman could make her think of her pleasant little home in Ukraine.

"Talking is good for you. Letting your feelings out cleanses the soul," she said brightly. It sounded like utter hogwash, but it was a philosophy Frieda had always lived by. She always, always spoke her mind. She always tried to be kind with her words, but she never hesitated in her speech. Just like now. "Maybe if you talked more, you wouldn't be so grouchy."

Frieda never really understood how people could be so cynical about life. They were alive, after all. Every day, they got to experience the joys of breathing in fresh air and seeing clean blue skies and stepping on soft green grass. Anyone who couldn't appreciate those things was leading a sad, dull life. When Émile contradicted her statement about the tournament being friendly competition, something told her that he was leading the dullest of dull lives. "I think you're missing the point of the tournament," she said suddenly, all bravado and teasing about winning aside. She pushed her plate away and propped her elbow up on the table, resting her head in her hand to get a better look at the Beauxbatons student. "Sure, it's about seeing who the best of the best is. But there's a lot more to it than that. It's about brotherhood and developing a camaraderie between the three wizarding schools. What do you think happens to those that don't get selected? They just stay on our ship or in your carriage?" Freida continued on, growing very passionate. "No, they make friends with each other and create bonds that will stand the test of time. That's what the tournament is about. In the end, everyone wins because we've grown closer as a wizarding community."

[Deleted]

WORDS: 517 | TAG: @frieda | Turn Off The Radio by A Day To Remember

Émile clicked his tongue when she said he’d be less grouchy if he talked more. No way was that going to happening. The only way to get things done quickly and effectively was through force. It didn’t always have to be physical force either, sometimes word got the job done. But in his experience, beating someone in a duel was enough to get what he wanted. Talking never seemed to go anywhere. It was quite obvious that where the two of them were similar in terms of wanting to win, they were extremely different in their methodologies. That wasn’t new to him at all. He was the complete opposite of everyone else for the most part. Being the best was a tough gig to hold onto, so he had to come up with ways to get under his opponents skin. That was his goal right now with Frieda, since she was a potential enemy in the tournament.

It was hard not to ignore what the girl was trying to tell him. He had already heard this shtick numerous times from other students he had talked to. No one seemed to like his ideas on how the tournament was supposed to be. Friendly? Maybe on the outside. That was the pretext for coming together and holding it in the first place. Anyone who actually bought that was probably also a muggle sympathizer. Unfortunately for those folks, competition was competition. The Quidditch World Cup was considered a friendly match that brought together international teams of the highest level to compete on a world stage. And yet no one expected the same level of comradery and friendship like the students from the three schools at Hogwarts did. Such silly ideological crap. Everyone would realize once the tournament actually started, when the champions were picked, that the friendliness between professors, students, and schools alike would go away almost immediately. The champions were there to win for their school, despite the pretext.

“That’s great and all, but I’m only here to win. If I’m not the champion, then there’s no reason for me to stick around.” That was his goal from the very start. Whether or not he’d actually be allowed to leave and go back home or Beauxbatons was a different story though. Émile’s sole purpose was to win. Without that, then there was no reason for him to waste his time idling around at a foreign school watching a bunch of children try to make friends. “We’re not all the same. Some of us simply want to be the greatest of all time. Maybe that doesn’t fit with the ideas of the tournament, but who ever said the champions had to blindly follow all that? I’d rather be known as the one who crushed his competition that everyone hated over being a stand-up guy.” Émile shrugged as he finished, turning his attention back to the roll he still had in his hand. That was the first time he had outright said his purpose for being at Hogwarts. He was rather interested in seeing where the conversation would go from there.

so come one and come all

to the crumbling walls
Of our city now painted with red

credit to nat of adoxography.