UDINOV, dmitri alexis

[dmitri udinov]

Sons should not dread meetings with their fathers. Sons and fathers were supposed to coexist harmoniously. Better than harmoniously, even. They were supposed to toss spears back and forth in the front lawn. They were supposed to till the soil together, work the earth, and fix things. Every time there was a chore to be done, they would conquer it together, father and son. That's how families were supposed to operate. They weren't supposed to strain under the pressure of keeping up appearances. Sons. Were not supposed to dread. Meetings with their fathers. Yet the evening found Dmitri Udinov pacing outside his father's study, tugging at his collar and doing just that.

The option stood, as always, of throwing wide the door, waltzing into the office with his chin up, and slamming his fists onto his father's desk. It might have been good manners preventing Dmitri from taking such actions. It might have been that he was raised better -- to wait patiently to be summoned. And then there was the more plausible, and correct theory. Dim was, quite simply, addicted to breathing.

Last time a person interrupted Vladmir Udinov without invitation, said person then catapulted out the window of the third-story room, landing flat on the top of his head and severing his spinal column. Needless to say, death ensued. But of course, as Vladmir's finger prints couldn't be found on the man's body, nor would any of the guards present at the scene confess, there was no evidence linking Vlad to the murder of the man. He got off Scott free, and lived to lie another day.

Just as he shook this morbid recollection, a page exited the study and crossed over to greet him. The page bowed his head, awaiting permission to speak. Dmitri granted it, the page announced that Vladmir was ready to see him, and Dmitri dismissed the servant with a nod. Behind the page's back as he turned tail and retreated to the study, Dmitri shook himself. Cracking his knuckles, he then rolled his neck from side to side, eliciting more sharp crackles as his joints rearranged themselves. One swipe of fingers down his lapel to smooth it, and Dim was prepared to face the man that had given him his Y chromosome. He'd assumed the role of a confident, respectful young gentleman, and it was imperative that he keep up this facade through the entirety of the conversation. His birthright hung in the balance.

On the opposite side of the door, Dmitri found an oblong, sparsely furnished room with magenta carpeting. His father's coat of arms - or rather, the Udinov family coat of arms - was sewn into it. A solitary bookcase leaned against one wall, and there were two arm chairs apart from the one at which his father sat, bent over his desk. Directly behind said desk was the window. Dmitri's throat clenched at the sight of it, but he twisted his head slowly to the side, gathering his nerve, and carried on, taking a seat in the chair opposite Vladmir.

As if on cue, the servants filed out in a straight line. Once the last of them had exited, the door and window slammed shut and the curtains blew closed. Despite the strong rush of wind seemingly coming from the outside, Dmitri knew his father was responsible. That also meant his father was in a bad mood. Vladmir Udinov in a bad mood resulted in a "random disappearance" more often than not. In that respect, hailing from the family of an arch mage was similar to being in the mafia. You served the arch mage, he did you a favor. You refused to serve the arch mage, they'd find your body at the bottom of a river. Everyone would know the cause of your death, but there would be no evidence, so none would lift a finger. Dmitri swallowed, but the action failed to relax his constricted throat.

A candle perched on the desk between them flickered to life, casting eerie shadows across Vladmir's face. The resemblance between the pair was obvious. The cleft in Dmitri's chin had not yet morphed into the full-out dimple reflected on his father's, but given time, it would. Then the widow's beak distorting their hairlines, which both of them sought to cover by gelling their hair back in gentle swooshes. Dmitri took comfort in the fact that his hair was a tad sandier than his father's had ever been, even before the color bled straight out of it. Dmitri's could be considered dark blond, cut short and wavy. But the most striking semblance between the two were their hazel eyes, just light enough to pierce a man, though Dmitris' were too often riddled with fear and anxiety to do so.

"Good evening, son." The elder Udinov spoke slowly, as though he chose each word with deliberate care.

Slipping back into his aloof, confident facade, Dmitri slouched in his seat and met his father's gaze head-on. "Evening. Why have you called me here, father?"

"You recently celebrated your twenty-second birthday." By "recently," Vladmir meant nearly four months previous, back on the eighth of February. "The eldest of my sons, destined to take the throne in the event of my untimely demise."

Confused, but feigning irritation to cover his incomprehension, Dmitri quirked an eyebrow and nodded for his father to cut to the chase. At this point, he had no idea what direction the conversation would take, but somewhere between the extinguishing of all light but the candle and the ominous statement of Dmitri's birthright, his stomach had tied itself in a knot.

"Yet no bride have you taken," Vladmir continued, taking his sweet old time. A kind of impish grin ticked at the wrinkles 'round his mouth. "No duels have you fought. You cannot even best your own brother."

So it was a matter of succession. Though he'd never mentioned it, Vladmir's intentions were clear as the writing in one of his precious spell books. The throne was slipping from Dmitri's fingers. "But Gedeon's a cheat!" he argued, leaning across the desk. Anger animated him.

"Striking an opponent when he is distracted is not cheating." Candle light glinted off Vladmir's eyes, reflecting the glaze that had fallen over them at Vladmir's wry amusement. "It is taking advantage of an opportunity. A lesson-" he took a sip from the goblet of wine nestled beside him, "- you would do well to learn."

"But father, you cannot seriously intend to pass the throne on to him."

Gedeon Udinov was the scum clinging to the underbelly of the Udinov family tree. Two years Dmitri's junior, he wasted his hours gambling, drinking, and dueling anyone foolish enough to raise a staff against him. He was supposedly good-looking, as the village women favored him, but he could barely keep upright for more than five minutes at a time. Once he started dueling, however, he magic-ed his hangovers away. He'd always been the better mage of the two, which was perhaps the only argument with which Vladmir could justify a decision to instate the younger Udinov as his successor.

"Mages are a strong race," Vladmir said simply. "They need a strong leader."

Dmitri leaned so far across the desk, his chin nearly grazed its sleek, freshly-dusted surface. "I can be a strong leader."

With a chuckle on his lips, Vladmir held his face inches from his son's. All he offered was, "Prove it." Then he leaned back, laughing as though he'd just made the funniest joke in the history of ever.

"How?" Dmitri inquired, brow creasing. "What must I do to prove to you my worth?" This only encouraged Vladmir to laugh harder. Enraged, Dmitri slammed his fists on the table. "Dammit father! You're maddeningly unhelpful!"

"If you cannot answer the question on your own, boy," Vladmir said at length, "you are not ready to lead a people."

Then it struck him. What was necessary to prove to his father that he could handle the responsibility of succession. That he was the better choice, not Gedeon. Rising to his feet, he bid his father good night, then stormed from the study, using his powers to open and slam the door before and behind him, respectively.

His intended destination? A certain list posted at the temple of Arwen on which he was to sign his name...

FACE CLAIM :: Sam Claflin
ALIAS :: Zee
EXPERIENCE :: FOREVER.
CHARACTERS :: Just Dim.
HOW YOU FOUND US :: Robin and Ellie referral. You're jealous, ik.
HOW ARE YOU DOING? BETTER THAN THE CHEATER THAT TRIED TO OUTWIT LADY ELENA!

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HEAVEN IS WRAPPED IN CHAINS ©

[LADY ELENA ©]

Hai Zee! I'm so glad to see that you've joined the dark side HIWIC. Dim has an interesting personality ( not to mention an interesting family owo ). The whole app overall is amazing, but the first paragraph is definitely my favorite part. xD Also, I'm super excited, because I've got my own mage character in the works, and Dim's "birth" gives her someone else to play interact with. I know you're an overachiever like the rest of us and you've already posted in the face claim thread, so I won't bother foisting that tidbit on you. However, if you find that you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to bring them to Em or myself.