Closed Don't 'Fret' It PV Levi Drakos

@Winnie Harper

Thrown into a dreamland, where wisps of perfection became brush strokes against a vast and ever-expanding canvas, the muggle world began to cower. The wizarding realm was a starry night each hour, a moon pulsing with its breath, the milky way’s tender kiss like a constellation being sculpted into the charcoal. A million holes poked in the darkness so the air can find us in our labyrinth of otherworldly beauty. The muggle world was but a star, a speck, forgetful, one more light. A single string of purple, paling against the violet and navy mosaic. Its existence was rendered moot, invalidated by an existence that tripled it plus a hundred more. And it consumed. You were already circling down the drain when you realized the waters fine.

Levi couldn’t let go, though. Without that lone stroke of purple, there would be a gap in the night as immense as the universe it bred. If that star were to fade out and fall to the ground, left but a stone in the Great Wall, a constellation would be incomplete. And someone would notice. Staring up at the sky as it gazed back in its wonder, and realizing it was partial, an abandoned art piece; the whole was only as great as the sum of its parts. That’s why he carried it with him, that trickling shade and twinkling gleam, so it wouldn’t die. So he could hang it on a thin wire when it grew weary, nurture it to shine and blind, and leave the world as whole as he’d found it twelve years ago once she stopped being the neon moon.

His acoustic guitar withstood the jarring transition from life as a boy to life as a wizard. And it would stay with him, slung over the boy’s back when his arms weakened and hung low from the baggage that weighed them to the ground. Earth’s floor was a taxing one that Mercy would never need to meet base to base. She touched the soft fabric of his trousers or the cotton on his shirts, the woven blanket at the base of his chest, or was caressed by the velvet of her case. It’d been months since she’d broken from that supple prison, graced the atmosphere, his hands, the just barely experienced callouses on his fingertips withering away with the test of time.

Summer was more than a season; it was a promise. To himself, to Mercy, to the skyward flaming stars that their radiance would live on with him if it had to crush his back for years to come. It was release, it was the moment electricity began to surge from the viridescent greenery of a tree to its roots. It was life’s creation and destruction, the breaking of nature’s laws, to do anything for the universe to remain unabridged. With its deep shadow dangling over them, the sun and the beach and the exhilarating scent of chlorine, the moments added up to this. Guitar case slung over his back, a familiar weight through all those he’d fought from September to the heavenly bloodlust of June.

The boy had settled in the rehearsal room that evening, taking several moments to only run his hands over the case and allow the dusk’s scarce light to illuminate the ceiling. He’d perhaps never been dressed more casually—his beauty was not the focus tonight. Twilight was an embrace to music; the feeling of a thumb tracing circles while their minds got dizzy from the grazing and the ethereal fit, it was unbeatable. There wasn’t a spell Levi knew that could enfold the universe such as that, build it and destroy it in a single chord, a lonesome word. Such power didn’t exist in magic, jets of fluorescent light couldn’t handle a love so raw, an intensity like that, as they’d fracture, shatter, and aim was but a suggestion to a beam made a thousand. It was only in the tranquil romance that coexisted between nightfall and a melody.

When Levi went to unzip the case, it opened with an ease, a hand reaching to hold your own. The next few moments were picturesque and fluid-like, happening in flawless succession without even a slight falter. Lift Mercy from the case, lay it gently to the side with your right hand, take her in both and pull tight against your stomach as you sink against the wall, home. It ends with a beam of light stroking through part of your face, one knee up and the other extended as your fingertips slide along the frets. It ends in a dream, just as it began.

He’d hum to himself and pluck a string after, lips curling upward if the two sounds became one. Now and then, there was a drastic difference, and a trial-and-error tightening or loosening would follow. It was during the process he was interrupted, glancing away from his guitar as the door was opened with a subtle complaint. Her voice echoed through the room just as the notes had, in the same harmonious way, skin made bright by the same pale, milky glow.

"Hello... I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, but I heard you strumming from the hallway and it intrigued me."

His lips parted, watching the way her dress flowed behind her. It looked like her, somehow, it’d been made with her in mind, inspired by that long auburn hair. He knew that much. He’d lie. “You’re not.”

"My name is Winnie Harper. We have a few classes together.”

A bell rang, somewhere behind the millions that sounded a tad closer alarms. Still, this bell was forefront, a subtle ding. Yes. He’d heard that name before.

“I... Um, also saw you at the blossom ball.”

Thinking back on that wretched day, he’d seen her too. Lavender gown, surrounded by a flurry of red heads. One of the first to arrive, surely not long before himself. He’d noted her as this sweet type of pretty but hadn’t expected to be interacting so soon. Was there another time he’d seen her? Something he wasn’t so eager to remember? Our memories could be mighty frightening.

“I hope I'm not overstepping here, but I wanted to say I'm very sorry about what happened. Sometimes people thrive off of ruining people's day."

Ah. So that’s what this was about. Had she sought him out to laugh? Wear this cleverly kind façade of a natural splendor, crafted of pale colors that made her skin tone shimmer, then rip it away and claim him less than a man for being subdued?

Perhaps. But, ultimately, Levi decided it couldn’t hurt to believe her, if only for a moment. Just to feel he wasn’t so alone in this hellscape crafted by Percematt’s hand. “It happens.” Does it? Not really. “I’m alright, though. No need to apologize, you’ve done me no wrong. Would you like to sit down?” His left hand would gesture to the floor in front of him before returning to the guitar frets, almost afraid they’d fall away if left unprotected.

June 18th, 2021
Outfit:Dress | Shoes | Hair

Levi’s words seemed to be packaged with a reassurance that caused Winnie’s shoulders to loosen. Now that she had moved closer to the Gryffindor, her blue eyes could scan over his form. She took in his brown hair and facial features before resting on his hazel eyes. Hazel, what a nice colouration. Shades of brown and green that changed depending on the scattering of light. It was a colour combination Winnie decidedly liked, perhaps because Jack also had hazel eyes, but there was also something refreshing about earth tones that put her at ease. A flickering memory that drew her mind back to her life on the farm, before Hogwarts.

"Oh, good. I know how important the artistic process can be, so I wasn't certain." Yes, Levi had kind eyes, or perhaps they were deceivingly similar enough to Jack's that she assumed as much. Was that a Scottish accent she detected? She took a tentative step towards him, the corners of her lips still pulled upwards into a smile, but it seemed more sincere since the boy hadn't instantly rejected her presence.

“Thank you,” was the girl’s response. Her arm swept her ridiculously long hair to the side, allowing it to cascade over her left shoulder, not wanting to accidentally sit on it. That was never fun. She leaned over and took a seat on the cold stone flooring. She tucked her legs beneath her, her hands carefully adjusted the fabric of her dress so it would hang over them. She ensured to smooth out any wrinkles. She didn’t want to look rumpled if Ruka stopped by the rehearsal room. She paused to think about the Gryffindor’s words before speaking. Of course she had done him no wrong, at the ball, at least, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell him how sorry she was. Mathias Pride was able to easily get her blood to boil. It reminded her of an ancient proverb that seemed to ring true, ’the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ Perhaps this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

“I’m unsure what you did to get on Mathias Pride’s bad side, but I can’t imagine it was severe. I tripped and spilled my drink on him and he ordered me to do his laundry.” Technically, it had been her fault since she had purposely tripped. Pride had been speaking poorly of Jack Burnett, though, so, in Winnie’s opinion, it was well deserved. She didn’t bother mentioning the events that took place after her accidentally-on-purpose spill. Things had gotten tense towards the end of the ball. Surely she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t proud of her actions.

“I sincerely hope it didn’t cause a rift between you and your... Girlfriend?” She stated this as a question, since she wasn’t certain about the nature of their relationship. Winnie found Levi was handsome, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he had a girlfriend, even at their current age. "Although I’m sure being a guitar player will help. Music is very therapeutic. There’s nothing quite like expressing yourself to another person through art. I think it’s terribly romantic." She sighed softly. Winnie was a young girl on the cusp of her teen years and, having just discovered romantic feelings, she had developed a bit of an obsession.

“I think music must be one of the most natural things in the world. Nature has a lullaby of its own, wouldn’t you agree? The soft wind blowing, the calls of wild animals, the gentle sprinkle of raindrops against the group, even the waves of the ocean hitting the shore...” She paused when she realized she had been rambling. She suddenly twisted her upper body so she could reach into the leather satchel that hung across her shoulders. She pulled out a notebook and a pencil. ’Poem about the sounds of nature’. She quickly scribbled before slamming the notebook shut and hugging it against her chest. Her focus shifted back to her peer.

"Sorry..." She felt her cheeks heat up, a rosy hue lighting her pale features. "I wanted to write down an idea for a poem before I lost it... But what I wanted to say is... I really admire people who can use music to express themselves."

Banner By Winnie Harper

@Winnie Harper

The Rehearsal Room was an immense, divine space. Its architecture alone was sculpted of the moons bare and stolen body. Beams of dusk’s sweet goodbye were piercing the many windows, reflecting on the chandelier and sending that pastel streak of light across his guitar. The same shine caressed Winnie’s seemingly endless hair as she eased beneath the ceiling’s grand arches, at home in the twilight’s gentle kiss. She was the world’s and the world hers. Tensions and shoulders at ease by his comfort, no matter its truth, the girl offered her understanding on a matching silver pallet and thanked him.

Candlelight collapsed upon the two, that and the residue of an early summer day not offset by the windowpanes, and remarkable bird-shaped shadows glided along the walls that engulfed them. Every few beats, Levi would tear away from his digits or the crystal pupils of the new visitor and watch the shadows, as though seeing their wings flutter as they took flight, sending a waving flock around the room. Behind the dancer’s bar, across the portraits and tall windows, burning in the fire until tranquility came again. Peace. They froze, never having moved at all. Their eyes met again.

For once, someone was shorter than he. His neck was retaining a rather intense crick from always staring upward at the local giants and the blood trapped in the creases of their lips. Refreshing, to look ahead into a diamond’s core. She’d swept her hair—which looked as it’d been growing out since before birth—over her shoulder, its reddish tint like an embraced sunburn contrasting her pale, carefully detailed skin. She was a hand-crafted doll, a loathed and loved being, the rare type of pretty that wasn’t a cruel burden to bear, without strings attached save those that pulled her lips to her eyes. The boy’s focus dropped to the strings of his guitar as he began to tune the sixth string with a near-silent aiding hum, though the scent of strawberries followed.

“We’d met before,” Levi whispered, reaching over to tighten the string coolly. Since their first meeting, the brunet had broken any promise of goodness he’d made to himself, lips still firmly closed with his tongue in an aching knot at the back of that lying throat. After all, even a human marionette, dislocated jaw and all, could be exhausted. Today wasn’t the right time.

Here to see it?

Levi’s stare would flicker to the window before continuing. “Gosh, I’m sorry,” His voice had notably wavered, “That’s ridiculous. Like there was much there to taint.” Memories flashed back; buried between the pressure on his mouth and the forced taste of a ‘human’ tongue, the image of a rather plain garment lay. He’d also mentally note that she referred to the wretched one as Mathias Pride. Yet another fool victimized by the juvenile tricks of Percematt and the assumed existence of Mattperce, who would be calling himself 'Percival Gray' and wearing a devious smirk. Why the two decided to swap names, he couldn’t be sure.

Winnie brought Nicole into the conversation delicately, a subtle hint of curious hesitation to her soft voice, distinctly accented by a life spent in Ireland. Girlfriend was a strong label; one his father had often suggested being avoided. While Nora had been a brilliant piece of arm-candy, albeit with a dash of wrath coloring that fiery hair, the future wasn’t half as bright. She had seen a part of him, a blush gone too far that somehow skipped its home in his irises. It wasn’t normal, in Natalie’s words, and though she’d fled to her home since then, Levi strode carefully. “Nikita isn’t my girlfriend. Long distance.” Blame it on the miles, because the fact that you can’t feel doesn’t make a good opening line.

And there Winnie was, in his sights again, dress flattened over her legs neatly. There was a nameless air about her, piquant but tenderly alluring, the way fierce deadly winds attracted storm watchers and Romeos died for their Juliets. Something integrally romantic about that glimmer she carried, amorous breath tumbling from her mouth as she fantasized. Far away, a protagonist in a young-adult novel that he could bring to life. His right hand plucked each string once more, the sound echoing through the Rehearsal Room just as a careless whisper.

“I’d tend to agree. There’s a charm in the rawness of music that makes it so expressive. So alive, that all life in the world can sound like a tune. Tapping nails, howling wolves, the complaint of a door…” Levi’s voice trailed off with hers, a harmony to a melody, watching as she reached for the satchel slung over her shoulder. From the leather bag she pulled a notebook and pencil, scribbling rapidly as the boy lightly chuckled. Then, the book was protectively slammed closed and hugged, an extension of her very own heart. There would be no surprise if it began to throb.

“I could sing you so—” Winnie offered an apology over his voice, too quiet to be heard. Some color came to that ivory skin, a reassurance the bloodless girl lived somewhere in there, perhaps on feigned, foolish love’s dancing heat alone. “You’re a poet?” Louder now. “That’s incredible, Winnie. I admire you.”

June 18th, 2021
Outfit:Dress | Shoes | Hair

Winnie could not decipher the soft whisper that slipped past Levi’s lips. Perhaps if it was said in such a hushed tone, she wasn’t meant to know, or perhaps she had struck a chord. If Mathias Pride had been terrible to Levi before the events at the ball, it could be something Levi would rather forget, and Winnie had no desire to be the cause of the Gryffindor’s pain. Had the Slytherin snake stolen the poor lion’s first kiss away? Like a flower without a chance to blossom... How sad... If that were the case, she could do little to help the hurt she knew could be in Levi’s heart. A first kiss should be an important moment in a person’s life, it was not meant to be stolen away, especially by one who didn’t care about you. "If that was your first kiss... I’m sorry it wasn’t with someone you cared for. That Matt Pride... Ugh, what a jerk."

A slow blink in the boy’s direction when he spoke again. Something about Mathias Pride and being tainted. A sudden burst of laughter erupted from her throat. "Pfft! Hah!" She wheezed, her cheeks flushed as she instinctively raised a hand to her mouth. She was a bit embarrassed, but definitely felt a silent kinship with Mathias Pride’s kissing target. She silently wondered if he and Ruka would get along well. Oh, that’s right. Poor Ruka had also been a target of Pride’s kissing shenanigans. "He also kissed my friend, Ruka." A shudder ran up her spine at the memory of the kiss, especially the way that Pride had called for her attention before pressing his lips against poor Ruka’s own. She shook her head at the memory. "In the middle of a fight. It just seems like foul play." Not that she’d hold Mathias Pride to any set of standards.

"Oh." Nikita, so that was her name. She had been quite beautiful at the ball and had a mean right hook. Winnie could appreciate a girl who wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself or her date. Had she and Levi broken things off after the ball, or had they never been a pair? Long distance was mentioned. "Long distance wouldn’t bother me. So long as we could write tons of letters!" ‘We’ meaning her non-existent boyfriend/girlfriend, but it could have been misinterpreted. She often wrote letters even without distance between her and whichever poor soul had to put up with her affections. Usually, with each letter was the gift of a poem, and with each poem, she sent a little portion of her soul that she had so carefully molded to form each line. The pieces were never returned to her, but she would swallow her melancholy continue to try. As the words flowed through her they temporarily numbed the loneliness. "I'm sorry to hear it didn't work out."

The more she spoke to Levi, the more interesting he was. The rosy blush burning on her cheeks remained as he spoke, spinning his words to create his own tale, or the promise of a melody. She was unused to someone matching her random whims or her cluster of external monologue that sometimes formed a fantasy. It was... Pleasant. She decided then and there that she rather liked this boy. Perhaps they could form a friendship. Winnie did need a friend her own age. Also, Levi played guitar and that was terribly exciting. Memories surfaced of her summers spent at her maternal grandparent's home and the strumming of her grandfather's guitar. "You admire me?" She questioned in disbelief. "There's no reason to... I'm not that great. I'm trying though. Besides, I admire you! I could never play the guitar. I've tried before and had no luck. I'd love to hear you play sometime."

Banner By Winnie Harper

@Winnie Harper
I have been given permission to lightly godmod Winnie accepting his hand.

When Winnie whispered her sympathy for a stolen kiss, human and sorrowful with a young ache for the idea of romance bleeding through her accent, there would be a shadowy flicker of something over Levi’s expression. As abruptly as it came, however, the furrowed brows and parted lips vanished, a tight line and feigned compassionate demeanor in their place. That hadn’t crossed his mind, to be bothered that Percematt’s tongue had been his first, at least not on an emotional level. He dreaded the day a hooded, horned, judgmental figure asked the question, but it was for the sweltering shame of being subdued, not because the brunet’s lips were some treasure, shimmering and saved for someone with whom his vile soul aligned.

The great door complained on its hinges, calling to him, still he remained unmoving. A thin winter fog of silence settled between the two, though his gaze would pierce through the smoky haze to meet hers, an unnamed desperation glinting in the warm hazel. Searching. The sentiments she spewed as a dragon’s blown kiss of fire, from where did they come? Beneath the various layers of Winnie’s heart—the one for poetry, the one for music—lay the one for love, vines scattering and choking as she aged, her fondness upheld and gaining more flair like a senior’s hex. Where did she get that bruising softness, that belief in the special someone? Compared to him, she was a summer’s day. For a moment, and this was less than a second, less than half of a dead heartbeat, his digits would turn ice blue if she left, fade navy and fall off, leaving nothing but a grand, vacant room and a guitar to be lonesome for decades.

It was then that he found his voice, wandering in a dream that would never be. It was life’s curse that impossibilities were so beautiful. “It was. Don’t be sorry.” Everything he said was, in itself, formulaic and robotic. Bland and detached, but there was a vulnerability—roughly equal to an unguarded entrance to Hell, however irrefutably present. A sense of longing, as he’d yet to wake up from his hope.

The following reveal came as a piercing sting, not that of a scorned lover but instead a foundation taken from beneath his feet. It wasn’t a green blade buried in his spine, just colored by the pigments of your typical bloodshed—vivid carmine. Though, perhaps his was cerulean given the way his breath quivered. Another rose mixed in the bouquet with a particularly stunning twist to its bloom or viridescent glow to its stem. His mantra would falter, ever lingering on the back burner but losing heat with every day that passed since the Blossom Ball. Here is proof that you and this Ruka fellow are important. Levi ran his left hand over his tidy hair before it came back to settle on the neck of his guitar, flashing Winnie a weak, yet vaguely charming smile.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he uttered. “He can’t win fair, and he probably knows that. Get him in a real duel and see what happens.” A bluff in its entirety. Levi wasn’t prepared to look Percematt in the eye for some time to come; several things would need to first be revealed. The trees, the name. The nuts.

His empty lie backfired, as Winnie had prepared a quixotic solution to any hindrance he could mold of the relationship between himself and his red-headed spitfire. The Gryffindor chuckled lightly at her optimism and brewing enthusiasm toward the ancient ways of three-page love letters and stirring poetry, though the destined romantic’s choice of words invoked questions. Namely, one. Then, her condolences. Again. Wherever this precious girl drew her sympathy from, it must be as infinite and full the hair atop her head. “No need. I’m…” This time, Levi weighed his explanation carefully. “I’m partial to physical touch. As a love language.” He considered ranting further, but the veil would grow slighter the more he yanked at its seams for frantic coverage. Surely, she’d fill in the blanks.

Her face was tinted a gentle pink, deepened as he professed his admiration for a girl as artistically talented as herself. There was something innately scenic in a creation by quill and parchment, by nothing but what lingered on the Earth for man to create ethereal grandeur of. It was in a poet’s calloused hands to romanticize life, death, and everything that happened in between and elsewhere. To take nothing and make more than something. “There are a thousand things of you to admire. I happen to have chosen poetic talent today.”

“Besides, I admire you! I could never play the guitar. I've tried before and had no luck. I'd love to hear you play sometime.”

Fate had brought her into the majestic Rehearsal Room on this late evening, and that was never clearer than when she let those regards tumble from her throat, inviting his hand to reach for hers without a beat’s hesitation. Time was at a standstill and their fingers grazed eachother’s before becoming intertwined, Levi guiding her right hand toward Mercy’s body. Using his left hand, he set his fingers in the position of a basic G major chord, before allowing her fingers to drop along the strings, the chord resonating through the boundless architecture of the room that this evening, they artistically shared. “There,” he whispered, allowing her to pull away as his hands returned to Mercy alone. “Now you can play.”

A hard cough, clearing any nervous air that landed in the past moment. “I could play for you now. We are… we are already here.” His digits worked faster than his mind and teeth, already gliding along the frets for the familiar position, the first chord of the song that had loomed in their aura from the second she wandered in, lost. Soon to be found.

Interacting with: @Levi Drakos

June 18th, 2021 Outfit: Dress | Shoes | Hair

Winnie was hit with the sudden realization that her spoken condolences could have been doing more harm than good. The way those hazel eyes locked onto her own made her heart flutter nervously. She had a strong urge to look away, but she stared back at him anyway. She stared straight ahead into his eyes, and when she finally exhaled, it sounded like her breath carried with it a silent understanding. Or rather, what she believed was her understanding that Levi was as lost as she was. It was likely Winnie reflecting her own yearning for companionship onto the Gryffindor. Did he use his music to express his soul’s desires? Her poetry evolved as her feelings increased, every word carefully selected and formulated. With each word a string tightened around her heart, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Perhaps they were simply the naïve cries of a girl at the cusp of her teen years, but as long as a soul was willing to listen... She would write as she strayed and came to pine for the one who truly cared.

The pause at the news of Pride’s newest lip locking partner caused anxiety to rise in her throat. A flash of concern crossing Winnie’s features when it felt as though the seconds dragged on into minutes. ’Perhaps Levi had feelings for Pride?’ Came as a thought at the back of her mind, which she quickly suppressed. How could anyone have feelings for Mathias Pride? No. Perhaps it was Levi’s way of showing sorrow? He was grieving that his lips were stolen by someone so beastly. Pride had not so secretly enjoyed his discomfiture. She would allow Levi to speak first, allow him to gather his thoughts.

Don’t be sorry? But she was sorry. She could only imagine what he was feeling. A shudder chilled Winnie at the thought. It would be more from fear than anything else and hurt at the cruelty of Pride’s actions. What reason could the lowly Wight have to devote his school days to the torment that came in the form of his lips? Oh, but that was part of Mathias Pride’s ’charm’, was it not? She wanted to make Levi feel better; she wanted to see him smiling at her. "I think that we need a new rule, especially with Pride roaming around the castle... A kiss doesn’t count unless you return it." With the confident way she nodded her head, one would assume that her spoken word was law. To Winnie, the logic behind it made perfect sense.

"I can't help but feel guilty; I think it was partly my fault. It must have been if he wanted to get my attention before he kissed him, right? Though he's likely just a complete jerk." The flash of his smile was infectious, her own quickly gracing her face once more. It was also coupled with the image of Mathias Pride trying to keep up with one of Hogwart's many duelists. "Unfortunately he likes to wriggle around... Like a worm. It's rare to see a spell hit him. ... That won't stop me from trying if needed, though."

"Partial to..." Winnie started to repeat the boy’s words and then paused, a soft blush blooming across her cheeks, "D-Do you mean kissing?" She was uncertain why this part of their conversation was making her feel flustered when she had rather bluntly spoken about kissing before. Her only kissing partner had been Ruka, and it both excited and confused her. Why he had done it? She partly believed he simply wanted to give her a positive experience for her first kiss. Had he worried that Mathias Pride would take her first kiss as well? She was unaware the poor boy had simply panicked after Winnie’s lack of physical boundaries had pushed him to his limit. "Poetry is a large part of how I show my affection, so I guess I would like to be able to do both."

A thousand things to admire? Winnie had a tough time believing that, even if Levi’s statement did not seem to possess a shred of doubt. "Reasonably one or two things, maybe... I think everyone has a passion, the kind that drives them forward with a force like no other... For me, it’s poetry and painting. For you, it could be music. I’m certain you have more talents too. I’d love to get to know you better." Her request was hopeful. The allure of an artistic soul that could understand her on another level drew her in like a moth to a flame. What a wonderful friendship they could have.

The instant the Gryffindor touched her, her mind seemed to go blank. Something between a flash of movement and the rustling of her flowing floral dress as she leaned close to Levi. The warmth of his hand cupping her own. Her fingers sliding over the cold steel wire strings. The singular note echoing thanks to the wonderful acoustics the rehearsal room provided. Blue eyes traveled up the boy’s upper body until they locked onto his own hazel. As she stared at him, the rhythmic pounding of her heart quickened its beat. Her mind raced, conducting poetry as she stared over at him. Wait, no! What was wrong with her? Did she not just tell admit to herself a week prior that she had to sort out these unrealistic yearnings? Levi touching her hand meant nothing to him. He was offering her kindness, and she was shoehorning in her own meaning.

She had to say something. Anything. "E-Eyes of warm honey, spun like soft moss." She sputtered out the poetry she had been crafting in her head. WHAT? Merlin, she was an idiot. In an instant he was out of her reach again and it left her with a fluttering heart and a face burning such a dark pink hue that it could have been comedic. She buried her face into the palms of her hands.

"I... I would like that." She responded after clearing her throat. At first she peeked at him from between the gaps of her fingers, but she soon dropped her hands. Her fingers instinctively twirling the ends of her hair around her fingertips the moment they were freed. A nervous habit or coping mechanism, whatever you wanted to call it. She was already leaning forward, a sparkling curiosity in her eyes as she waited expectantly.

Banner By Winnie Harper

@Winnie Harper

Winnie lived in a different world than him. Her eyes sparkled across the scenery of another dimension's Rehearsal Room, where the remaining particles of light casting through the windows were an act of the sun’s romance, and trees stayed grounded because they loved the delicate touch of the grass. A nice way to live, it must have been, to believe that emotions could erase the physical, that a kiss couldn’t count if you didn’t want it to. Reality was much sourer; brushed lips would always taste of one another, salty and dry, and someone’s shared tongue would always speak words with a dash of a foreign accent absorbed in a stranger's mouth. Like it or not, Percematt had stained the glass in Levi’s mosaic, and all the world’s dreams wouldn’t take away the green blush over the way he learned to kiss.

Beats came and went where Winnie’s expression took a turn he hadn’t expected. Not yet a master at predicting the responses of others, each time her anxiety rose to question her empathy, Levi would squint as though studying an alien creature. Being a novice meant he was able to name their dance—the flirtatious nature of the tango was easy to discern—yet he couldn't determine precisely where they were. Was he to slide the thorny end of a rose between her teeth, spin until the girl collapsed in a heap of dizziness, merely step hard forward and back? She led him but did not quite know what dance it was herself. Often, they rhythmically landed on each other's feet, and the quiet yelp that was a nervous gulp would echo through the Rehearsal Room, soon drowned by the plucking of a string.

Her universe, pristine and built on shrines to honeyed, falsified words, began to bleed over into their own as she took charge of reality’s laws. A smart man dismissed her and the lovely naivety that veiled her skin, a smarter man would’ve dropped to his knees in guided worship and sewn her to his side. Levi hummed for a moment as a smile crept over his lips, laughing in what could be simply mistaken for lighthearted agreement. “Let it be set to stone, then. Only mutual kisses count.” For a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if reality had become so overtired that he’d dipped into her daydreams for a breath of the pretty air. Nothing about that interaction felt real, with substance, as though Winnie wasn’t even a sentient being.

There was the possibility seeped into her next words that her complex was not so far off from his own. Perhaps the work of gods and goddesses implanting their egos into the modern youth in hopes that their tragedies will play out like films of greater production. Their legends slipping away, string by string, drowning in the rotting whirlpool of an egoist’s sea, and they can’t stand to watch them swirl, so they send children to fetch them from fate. Levi had no qualms with it. Maybe Winnie only knew a dead man’s float.

When the poetic nature of self-importance fell, you were left with vulnerability. “You should worry less about it being anyone’s fault but his, any of it.” The redheaded girl reflecting his grin just made his own grow, leaning back onto the wall and lightly strumming his guitar. “You know, worms are bait. Have you considered putting him on a hook and tossing him into the lake?”

Winnie likely had a shelf at home, painted baby pink and stocked end to end with classic fairytales, the rewritten versions where girls slept still and peaceful and boys asked them and their fathers for the princess’s hand in marriage before daring to lock eyes. Her voice, simmered with a spoonful of desire, was reminiscent of the narration of these tales, an effortless amour to her accent and faraway quotes, as though speaking to him through a thin wall dividing their respective cosmoses. She filled in the blanks in his story, the horizon blossoming on her cheeks in a gentle red heat, and the universes orbiting in her gaze shined at him in awe of all the possibilities he didn’t name. Leaving it to her imagination was the best thing he could’ve done, as once those layers of her heart began to write it, Levi would never need to speak another word.

After brief consideration, the brunet opted to neither confirm nor deny the precious flower she gave him from her idyll. It was best to allow her to decide what kind of guy he was, knowing her thoughts wouldn’t turn to the worst where the whip of his ignorant tongue could send them. Levi was a dilettante in her gold museum, and Winnie was not meant to pierce his surface. His smile didn’t disappear, but rather softened, watering itself down from joy to pleasure. “I am sure any guy…” There was a calculated pause here as Levi broke eye contact, fingers still running along the strings, “…would be lucky to have a girl like you writing poetry about them. You could make blood sound beautiful.”

“I have a lot of passions,” He muttered, glancing back up toward her. The sweetheart was waiting there, where the roses bloom, surrounded by a far and calm river rather than cold floor. Her radiance was vulnerable, but now was not the time to puncture it. “And passion is not the only thing to be admired, just among them.” Her next words were a wish whispered to him, the air that engulfed them, and the celestial love that dangled from the sky as evening set. He practically spit out his reply, not letting the promise fall flat. “I’d love to get to know you, too.”

Something in his touch had glitched her. Their moment was feathery, filmy, extracted from those thin books piled upon her room’s shelves, and fiction consumed reality with stardust circling around the two. Her dreams, both unspoken and sung to anyone who would listen, shed into reality where bullets could find and spike them from the barrel of an empty gun. When they became real like this, crossed boundaries better left lonesome and to the confines of a twelve year old’s greatest desires, they were at risk of destruction; she could drown her beliefs in the rain of the real world. When they’d swim back into her head tonight, when this was done and his voice was but a silvery memory to her, there was the possibility that they’d come back tainted.

Yet, she’d trusted him with them. In his hand was not only hers and the neck of his guitar, but the fate of her blissful callowness, her illusions of storybook romance and the ideal partner she would craft from the remnants any father figure had left her with. The perfect person, as she’d been taught to perceive them, and now Levi would be a part of that medley, he had tinted her glass not unlike Percematt did to his. Although, his remains would be much easier on the eyes.

She hid her face in her hands after pouring her heart to her new favorite stranger. Levi would reach out and, if she’d allow, peel her fingers away from her eyes to meet them once more, manufactured kindness brewing in the hazel she claimed was composed of honey and moss. “You have quite the way with words.”

Either way, her face stayed buried away for a moment after she agreed to hear him perform. Contrary to many others glimmering under the sudden spotlight in this way, there were no nerves dawdling within the dark-haired boy; the reclusive atmosphere of his rehearsals was not by choice but mere coincidence, for he would do it on a grand stage if it would have him. Fervid confidence was the only self-reflection he ever knew, perhaps ever would know, as his shame receptors were as broken as the moral code he built from a fractured throne of lies and misdirection. His left hand found the starting chord, and he cleared his throat before beginning. If one chord made her nervous, this is going to kill her. I'll be expecting a book of poetry next time.

It was in the center of a rather short list of songs that the boy knew from start to finish, sure of each switch with no considerable pauses between changing the position of his digits. Even when hesitation plagued him, his aplomb never splintered, and such surety mended those gaps with platinum bridges and the song was more perfect than it had been any other time he’d ever played it. Maybe due to the way the music bounced off Winnie’s skin and sank into both of them, two children who couldn’t truly comprehend what feeling the song embodied. One, who thought she did. One, who knew he never would.

DATE ▪ 06/18/21 OUTFIT ▪ X ▪ X ▪ X ▪

INTERACTIONS: ▪ @Levi Drakos ▪

What a wonderful scene the two had set. She, a girl who lugged love around in her pocket as if it were dream dust she would sprinkle around, hoping a single grain would land on someone who would love her back. And he, a boy who observed love from the stands of a sterile operation theatre, abstracting and studying the unknown subject with falsely crafted compassion. The strumming of his fingertips against wired guitar strings may as well have been the steel surgical knife that would remove her heart ever so cautiously for further experiments.

In her whimsical daydreams, evil ogres could not steal first kisses. A world tinted by her naïve spirit and a heart that bled romance would never allow such things to happen. Mathias Pride had not tainted Levi’s mouth; his honour would remain and he would have a second chance to share a tender kiss with a girl (or boy), one that was likely as handsome and as charming as he was, Winnie imagined. Her shoulders relaxed, fully trusting in that light-hearted laugh. Yes, in her eyes the Gryffindor understood her every thought.

"Well, if that is the case... Whomever has the pleasure of receiving your first kiss will be very lucky." Among the fluttering heartbeat that pulsed within her chest, Winnie felt her mind drifting to a single thought; ‘I wish it could be me.’ But it could never be. Levi, a mysterious handsome stranger with whom she had the pleasure of sharing a strange connection with, was a princely sort of boy. He deserved a well-bred girl who had good standing within society. The kind who wore well-ironed clothing or fancy dresses. Not a girl who grew up on a farm and danced among the wildflowers in a grass stained dress. Fiction, poetry, myth, or fairy tale. She was not a lost princess living in a tall tower. Doomed to living a life of loving people who would never love her back the way she wanted them to. Just like Jack, Ruka, Burnett, and her father had not. Still, at least she and Levi could share this moment.

It was then the boy shared a few words of wisdom with her. Ah, so he was handsome, talented, and intelligent. It seemed unfair for one to possess so much charisma, too. It was as if the muses themselves had favoured the beautiful boy and had showered him with their divine blessings. His words also echoed words that Flash Holmwood had shared with her a few days prior; giving Mathias attention was what he wanted and expected. Ignoring him was a better way to combat his twisted games. "You’re right. Next time Pride and I meet, I will be ready. I won’t be falling for his trickery." If only that were the truth. Unfortunately, she would fall for his trap hook, line, and sinker and it would be because of her own stubbornness and dangerous curiosity that she would forget about this interaction along with many others. The line about tossing the Slytherin into the lake made her laugh, a forced puff of air that escaped past her lips, "HAH!" She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, her cheeks glowing a soft pink hue. "Heheh..." She giggled beneath her palm, the grin playing on her features only widening. She was mentally adding ‘funny’ to the list of positive things about Levi. "We could just set him in front of the lake. He might stare at his own reflection long enough that eventually he’ll fall in."

He could not have known his next statement would cause Winnie to wilt like a flower beneath the harsh rays of the summer sun. Her carefree smile fell, and her shoulders drooped as she shifted to wrap her arms around her knees and hug them close to her chest. "... Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say, but... It has not been the case." While some had directly ignored her poetic musings, at least Jack Burnett had the decency to write her back and gently let her down. Yes, he was a sweet boy and she would believe as much, despite what the other students liked to whisper about him behind his back. Yes, her first crush had crashed through her like a wave capsizing a boat on a stormy day, but had quickly petered out once the two of the had shared a heart to heart. Did she still find him dashingly handsome? Of course, but she would swallow those feelings and cheer for him on the sidelines. Things had also gotten a little awkward once she realized how much the boy resembled her childhood friend, Jack Warren. The two even shared a first name. Between that and his charm, it had been no wonder she had fallen for him. "I think perhaps it would be best to keep my poetry to myself from now on, unless someone has stated interest in it." Something that also did not last, considering the hate poems she would send Mathias Pride in the near future. "... You’re very sweet, Levi. I would not mind sharing some poems with you, if you’re ever interested."

She had unconsciously scooted her body forward, as though she were a plant stretching to reach the sunlight. In her eyes, Levi was a brilliant light that could consume every corner of the room, dancing on every reflective surface and blinding her. She could not stare directly at him too long without growing flustered, and would have to flicker her eyes in another direction now and then. In her heart, she would lie. She would tell herself that she wasn’t developing feelings for a boy so quickly, not after Burnett. Had she not learned her lesson? The stitches in her heart had already burst open, leaving a cavity in her chest that would bleed out imagined tomorrows and misguided affections. "I...I would like that a lot. Perhaps we could write to each other over the summer?" What were his passions and interests? How she longed to know. If only he would delve further and explain them to her, or echo his every thought. Perhaps he would through his music.

She would not fight against the hand that pried her own away from her flushed face. She gnawed on her bottom lip nervously as she struggled to meet the boy’s eyes. "I’m sorry, I... I really like the colour of your eyes. They are very nice. They remind me of the lush forest." His eyes were warm and kind and the gesture would put Winnie at ease long enough to listen to him perform. Unfortunately, the nature of the song he had selected would ensure she would quickly return to her flustered state.

Her world was spinning, crafting a whirlwind beneath her feet that threatened to swallow her at any moment. Levi sung of love, the kind that was unrequited, the kind that Winnie herself had only experienced. It was breath-taking and sorrowful, a melody crafted to draw her in, wide blue eyes practically sparkling with curiosity. Her heart would hammer unrhythmically against her chest as the melody absorbed itself into her very soul, brewing with it a storm of emotions that she could only just hold at bay. A boy had never returned her feelings before, and for a brief moment, Winnie fully believed that Levi felt the spark between them, a connection that the fates themselves had carefully threaded.

By the time the song had ended, she was kneeling directly in front of the Gryffindor. Her face flushed and furrowed slightly in confusion. "I..." She tried to speak, but her breath caught in her throat. The distance between them felt like too much, as though her heart would explode from her chest if she did not get closer. Her hand reached forward, cupping the one gripping the neck of his guitar. With blue eyes locked onto hazel, she would lean closer until her nose was pressed against Levi’s own.

Her eyes fluttered closed, but before she could close the distance between them, she suddenly stumbled backwards, as if the reality of the situation had come crashing down on her all at once. The glass slipper lost, the princess’s hair sliced, the juice of a poison apple dripping down her forearm. "I-I’m so sorry... I... I don’t know what came over me..." What the hell was wrong with her? She was no better than Matt, and that realization would cause her to turn on her heel and try to exit the rehearsal hall without another word to the enigma of a boy. She should have known better; for moonlight cannot compare against the light of the sun.

Winnie will leave the room/thread unless she is stopped by Levi.