Goblin' It Up Errand Main Thread Fin

Muggle candy was a wonderful thing- its simplicity was greatly appreciated. Sometimes it was nice to eat something without having to worry about it trying to run away- or trying to choke you mid-chew. Wizarding candy was hardly candy, it was more like weaponized sugar- and if consumed improperly, it had the potential to become nothing more than an elaborate choking hazard. The boys superficial cluelessness was deemed charming at first. Being fairly new to unenchanted confectioneries herself, Xailah would have gladly, and enthusiastically explained that there was nothing really tricky about the treat that she had given her friend- that she had only wanted to joke and share this exciting new thing- but then she saw that silvery little glare. She inhaled, as if preparing to deliver a long bit of commentary, but then exhaled harshly through her nose. Forget an explanation. Alongside guilt, and spooky things, haughty eyerolls seemed to be a frequent theme of the night. Next time she would be sure to give Pericles a popcorn ball. He could have fun in trying to pick that apart. There was no way someone could overcomplicate a popcorn ball- course the boy would probably figure out a way to do just that.

Her question, while structured simply, lacked a simple answer such as "no". Yes, a "no" might have sufficed, but there was always more to some things than just simplistic "yeses" and "noes"- like the truth, for example. Understanding this, Pericles took the time to look for an answer that they could both understand. Casual confirmations often left a lot of space for interpretation. Sometimes there were topics that didn't need that extra interpretive space- the current topic being one of them. Extra room to ponder, often left ways for things to be horribly misinterpreted. Instead of seeking a knep- a way to worm away from the conversation- Pericles approached the inquiry with honesty. He had not been afraid of his father, no, he was afraid of the inevitable change that would accompany his fathers condition. Despite her metamorphic nature, Xailah could understand that- being afraid of change, that is. Any child could. Change was an incredibly scary thing for children. The feeling of having everything you were once familiar with ripped from your grasp, was one of the most briefly terrifying things a person could ever experience. The transient uncertainty of this thing known as change was... horrible, to put it simply.

And yet some found that specific quality of change, to be quite exciting. An elaboration followed the quiet mulling, and the answer that had been presented. Not only had the boy lived in fear of change, he actually had to experience the change he so feared. One event toppled his seemingly secure foundation, like a earthquake would a straw shack. His father- a man once rich with titles- had his authority stripped from him like it was nothing. When Pericles began to list off all the very impressive things his father used to be, Xailah couldn't help but interject a quiet: "Wow." The elder Dralts laundry list of achievements, was rather intimidating. But impressive nonetheless. No wonder Pericles had concerns about the role he was to play in his family tree. The little albino had some mighty big boots to fill. But Xailah knew that the boy was beautifully brilliant. Those boots were going to fit just right. Pericles was going to be great. There was no reason for him to think otherwise.

"Wasn't fair to him? Or do you feel that it wasn't fair to you?" The ever-inquisitive Gryffindor couldn't help but wonder if Pericles was just a tiny bit bitter about... well, everything. The change- the deprivation of knowledge- the goals that no longer had meaning. Pericles was block of marble who had lost its sculptor halfway through the creative process. He no longer had anything to help reference the form he was originally meant to take. He only had faint ideas- course the boy once said a faint idea could take a person a long ways. In a library at least. Unbeknownst to him, that didn't apply to libraries only. The boy could never become the statue that his creator had envisioned for him to be- the embodiment of David- but he could become something close. He could learn to become something of his own design. He just needed a fresh set of references, and a new sculptor. Though it was hard to tell a boy that he didn't have to become his father. "Names and titles don't make a person. Who was your father before his achievements?" Had Xailah been a few years older, she could have told Pericles that titles and names meant virtually nothing, when looking at the bigger picture. They were simply another way to keep track of others. Alas, Xailah was an emotionally injured fourteen-year-old, who was on the desperate hunt for a title of her own. Because she thought that having one would actually make her someone. It was hypocritical. Yes. She just couldn't quite wrap her head around some of the things that she wanted to preach, just yet.

"You know- your father has sssomething that many would kill to get their hands on." And it wasn't the Vampirism. "He doesn't have his titles anymore, but he does have a clean slate. He has the ability to observe the world around him from a new perspective, and without the burden of former expectations." The beastling Gryffindor let out an airy sigh. A clean slate- a new start at life- was something she could only dream of having. "It is unfortunate that vampirism had to be the thing, that was to give him a new pair of eyes. It is unfortunate that he has to live with the wariness of others, and the loss of his names... But imagine all of the new names he can collect now." Imagine all the new names you can collect. Not only did the man involuntarily create a clean slate for himself, but he had also created something of a clean slate for his son. A chance for his son to carry on with the family linage, but in his own wonderfully eccentric way. Whether either Dralt was aware of it- that didn't much matter. The slate had been wiped. Both man and boy had been given markers. They could make their own stories now, without having to worry about the former clutter, or wiping something important away. It was just a shame that what made the elder outwardly human, had to be sacrificed in order to obtain the unexpected opportunity.

What does one do after an earthquake? After their foundation has been broken? They cry a little, then they pick up their pieces of straw foundation, and prepare to build something that is stronger. Something new, and better than before. Good things always came with the sacrifice of something else. That was just the morbid reality of it all. Drained from the unintentional search for the silver lining, and the short-lived- but very uncharacteristic- burst of twisted optimism; Xailah allowed her eyes to flutter shut. For a moment. She listened to the hushed mulling and gentle shifting from the eagle beside her. She waited patiently, knowing that he would answer in his own time. I think... the boy began. "Oh? Do you?" The girl retorted suddenly, as if she had been waiting for the moment. Her lips curled over themselves, forming a cheeky sort of expression. One glowing eye slowly opened, to peek at the boy. "I'll be quiet." She claimed, not wanting to chase the Ravenclaws thoughts away. She had just managed to get him to talk about his feelings- which were very important things for a young boy to express. She didn't want him thinking that she was going to laugh at him whenever he tried to talk about how he felt.

Silly, was the word he had decided to use, to describe the film. And you know what? It was silly. The film was absolutely ridiculous. Especially when viewed upside down. Xailah arched her back a little, and teetered on the base of her skull, for a moment. Actually- the film was better when observed upside down. "Huh." The witch mused. "It is very sssilly." She bobbed her head in agreement. Pericles went on to explain that little was known about the antagonist. The metamorph hadn't thought too much about that- but it was true. The count was somewhat of a mystery. "He's a wizard too. He moved the lids to his coffins, without touching them." The most the audience would ever know was that: he was a vampire, had a weird throat fixation, and that he apparently had some magical heritage too. When put simply- in the way the young wizard had explained- the film was actually quite dull. There were few interesting things, about stories that had little symbolism or meaning. There was nothing interesting about characters with little substance. But in the films defense- when taking the time period the movie had been made, into account- Nosferatu was at the peak of storytelling, and horror for its time. "The film has great potential though, does it not?"

It was nice to hear Pericles admit how he felt. He managed to avoid mentioning his father- and that seemed like a great achievement. "That didn't hurt too much now, did it?" She gave him a toothy grin- one that would fade at hearing a foreign voice. The librarians voice penetrated the safe little shelter the children had built for themselves. She was the needle that would pop their little bubble. Xailah looked to Pericles, with a surprised, yet hopeful expression. She had forgotten that they were participating in an event- that there were other people that existed. She had forgotten that time was a thing- and their time was now up. Or was it? As Pericles moved about, he was quick to whisper something. The metamorphs brows arched curiously, as she watched the little warlock pick up her pumpkin of a cat. Xailah was in no rush to leave, so she took a couple seconds to mull over his question. "No." She finally stated. She pulled up one corner of the blanket that sheltered the fort, and proceeded to peep under it. Several pairs of legs belonging to sleepy little ghouls, could be seen shuffling by. "We don't exist to them, right now." As weird as it was- it felt nice to say that. Was Pericles wanting to stay, while everyone else left? Wow. Someone was feeling bold tonight. "It takes awhile to get to the fifth floors, and west tower from here." Was he willing to endure the new librarians wrath, just to spend a few more minutes with a friend? "Half an hour I'd say. Maybe less. That would give us half an hour to do anything. Or nothing." The girl shrugged. "If questioned we can say that we were just on our way to do some patrols."

@Xailah Alptraum

Xailah's little Wow brought on a cringe of a smile. With that, Pericles felt confident he had conveyed at least a portion of his conundrum, the breadth of expectation which he was compelled to meet or (somehow) exceed. He simmered in momentary distraction, rolling the remnants of his candy on the end of its stick. Its sweetness did well to contrast the metaphorical bitterness on his tongue. The next question clearly caught him by surprise, and for the span of a few seconds, Peri's wide eyes stuck silently on his companion. He removed the lolly to wag it at her once, saying with a hint of wry humor, "That question isn't fair." But it was warranted. He wouldn't have ever addressed it otherwise, had she not been the one to bring it up. With less of a laugh he admitted softly, "Both, I s'pose." He loathed what injustice had been done to his father, though he had also been caught up in its impact on himself for far too long. It was tiring just to admit as much, and after doing so, he wouldn't elaborate. It was the murky albeit absolute truth.

She was right. Titles didn't make an identity, though it was difficult not to pine after them, vying to collect significances as goblins gathered up shiny trinkets. Who his father once was, went answered, though he supposed the question could have been rhetoric. It was meant to make him think, and think he did. The contemplative state was touched by the briefest look of dubiousness, however, to talk of a clean slate. Pericles had already settled on the opinion that his father couldn't possibly be happy- not really- but had more or less accepted his fate. The boy had not. It would take some time for him to absorb that opinion, and he was sure to still be mulling on it with doubt in excess by bedtime tonight. What was wrong with the slate he'd had before? As much as he was at war with accepting things as they already were, I can convey, as their author, that his father may have been much more understanding.

As Xailah rolled onto her back to view the movie upside-down, Pericles stretched on his side, laying his head on an arm and viewing it from a crooked perspective. His thoughts hummed with the robust content of their conversation: indulging Xailah with the secretive story on his father, whether or not there was a bright side to its conclusion, and how deeply Pericles himself had allowed the event to impact him. He watched Nosferatu roll along with a significant drop in unease, having been brought to the realization that it was hardly the film itself which unsettled him, but instead distant concepts of misrepresentative media and its ability to influence opinions. At the end of the day, this was just an old movie. A goofy one. Rather than agree or disagree on its potential, he whispered with the start of a smile, "I think... I should like to read the book instead, someday." The "taboo" of such things in his household would lose their grip on him, between this eye-opening discussion and puberty. Teenagers weren't known for following the beaten path. When Xailah asked with a grin if his admittance had hurt, he met met the look, all that conflict in his little mind dwindling as he answered, "When we are alone again, I would like to ask about your family." She could decide for herself then.

The old film dwindled to an end. Peri hadn't even noticed it in those last minutes, and was marked by a moment's disappointment; watching it in its entirety would have been the best way to formulate a viable opinion. But then, it was a little boring for a twelve-year-old. He seemed more enthusiastic about gathering up Schrodinger, never minding a bit of gray hair clinging to his fancy white costume. The rapidity with which Xailah began planning how to best break the rules didn't surprise him in the least. Huffing a breath of laughter, he gathered the cat close and stood, confessing "I think I've given our new librarian enough trouble for one night, though, it sounds like Ravenclaw and Gryffindor are being taken to their commons as a group...." The invitation to walk with one another hardly needed to be made. Pericles would make for quiet company on the trip, brain back to buzzing over what had been seen and said, though he appeared to enjoy mulling. His parting words would be to thank Xailah for watching the film with him, but given how little they'd actually watched nonsensical Nosferatu, it was more a matter of thanking her for being a good listener and a good friend.

Exiting thread.

It was true, that question wasn't very fair. Though it was one that had been begging to be asked. It would be left to wallow in a surprised silence, but only for a few small minutes. Eventually the falcon met the question with an airy sort of laugh; and a mindful bobble with the stem of his planetary sucker. The little titter, was quick to fade. Both- was to be his final answer. Both, was what he had supposed- and it was what Xailah had suspected, but she had wanted to hear him admit it. There was nothing wrong about the residual bitterness that he felt towards the inequity placed upon his father, and the impact that it had on himself. He had every right to bear the resentment- it was natural. One really couldn't blame him. The clean slate might have been- in a way- a bit of a stretch. But what more could be expected from someone who watched upside-down, as the world rolled along in all of its greyscale glory? From someone who desired a new start? There was some sort of a crooked understanding, that change- while incredibly terrifying- was undoubtedly a good thing in the long run. Without change, without a flow, things grow stagnant. And things that are stagnant begin to rot, and fade. They begin to forget what they once were, and what they could have been.

Pericles took to watching the movie from a new perspective- a sideways one. Not quite right-side up, and not quite upside-down. Neutral. A more... even, sense of comfort could be felt; as the film reeled on. The bird had quieted his worrying over the film, and the lion finally let her concerns for the bird, fall. Tranquility and still reflection, cradled the little observers who had sought refuge beneath linens. Xailahs grin grew a little. "You tell me when." Xailah cooed in a sleepy voice. "I have a copy of it sssomewhere in my dormitory." He wanted to read the book! This was a triumph. One small suggestion of interest- be it genuine or out of politeness- was a big step towards the road to independence. Which was a path that Xailah had already been skipping down for some time- and she so loved it. Today would not be the day Pericles began skipping too, but it would be a start- a tug, a push- he needed to learn how to walk first.

A laugh was forced, when Pericles claimed that he wanted to ask about the metamorphs family; once the two of them had another opportunity to be alone. "Then I will see to it, that we are not left alone again. Talk of my family would bore you." Xailah mumbled. For a moment that peeping grin of hers wavered. She would make sure it didn't happen. She already knew that admittance had- was going to hurt. Just a tiny bit. The curtains would close. Nosferatu would end, when the first rays of daylight came to take him away. White would flicker on the wall for a few moments, before the projector finally retired to its usual state of sleep. It would hibernate until it was ready to be used again. Children would stir. The cat would be collected. That one minute of realization was very surreal. Pericles tent question had excited the lioness, resulting in hasty explanations of how to skirt around the rules that had been set in place. The boy laughed, while bringing the gelatinous form of a pumpkin-clad cat, closer to his person. Xailah's eager chatter, would be let down gently; as the Ravenclaw explained that he had caused enough trouble already. "Boo." The Gryffindor pouted into a blanket, making her disappointment clear. "Whats a little more trouble? I think our new Librarian could use the extra practice." She was trying to drag out the time. Having Gryffindor and Ravenclaw return to their respective dormitories, was incredibly convenient. Perfect even. The lion and bird could further stretch their time together, via the walk- if not for one incredibly minor problem.

She didn't want to go to her dorm. She didn't like it there anymore, due to recent events- or rather an event. The fear of walking into her room, not knowing what she would find in it, loomed over her. The recent disappearance of her roommate Aurelia didn't exactly help things either. The dormitory was just another space now- one that lacked the sense of security it used to have. With time the feelings would pass. If lucky, time would cause the metamorph to grow out of the fear, or simply forget- like how a child forgets about the monsters that once lived underneath their bed. But that time was not now. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Thus she tried to drag out the time she had been granted to spend, outside of the dorm- she tried to make it last a little bit longer. Her dormitory wasn't safe. Xailah- thinking that she could make Pericles stay in the ballroom for a few more minutes- kicked one pillow-pillar out from under itself. The pillow wobbled, and then finally toppled, promptly taking the blanketed ceiling down with it. The fort was no more. She squirmed beneath the collapsed structure, and poked her head out from beneath the heavy blankets.

She looked up expectantly, brows creased. This isn't very fair now is it? It was selfish. She shouldn't have been trying to get him to break the rules. Letting out a grumble, she crawled out from beneath the toppled fort. "Fine." She mumbled in the way a child does, when they fail to get their way. "But only because I don't want you running off with Schrödinger." Sluggishly, she abandoned the remains of the fort; and took to Pericles side as he began to make his way out of the room. Schrödinger jiggled along sleepily, in the lanky wings of the raven. The boy wouldn't say much- if anything- on the way back to the commons. He had said enough for one night. The girl would walk with him, taking in the silence. She didn't feel the need to speak. Both would float along; contently swimming through the quiet words, and events of the night. One day all of it would be a mere memory. When they reached the entrance to the commons- whose commons, didn't much matter- they would stop, and exchange a few brief words. Thank you. Thank you for "watching" the movie with me. That was what the boy had said- or something along those lines.

Rather than return his evident appreciation with a "you're welcome"- like one was normally supposed to do any sort of social situation involving expressed gratitude- the girl instead opted to give him a simple, tight-lipped smile. Nothing else was to be said after the thanks, and the Gryffindor turned heel to quietly depart to her dormitory.