Frigid Encounters Main Story

@Xailah Alptraum

Pericles was not an absent friend, though he was not the type to cling, either. Raised in a household where personal privacy was given its due, he did not demand company every hour of the day. Yet things changed after the trainwreck. The honeymoon phase of his friendships had begun to fade since his first year, solidifying as a longer lasting commitment. That childish rush of friendliness developed into true attachment. Seeing the car carrying Xailah and Meenauh (and many other students, though that was a general type of terror aside) tumbling off into the snow had stricken him with white-hot horror. It had burned in him for the next agonizing hour of the train ride, scorching his thoughts with the anxiety of a potential loss, lingering through his actions come the following weeks. What used to be "I'll see you later"s had become "I'll come with you"s. Such was the case now, though they had not set out in impeccably astute pursuit of a missing student. There were too many bodies for Pericles to realize Vladimir wasn't among them, as much as the baffling boy probably deserved observation. No, tonight he accompanied Xailah as she embarked on her particular hobby of breaking apart owl pellets to collect skeletal remains.

Finishing dinner earlier than most was not irregular for Xailah, who was more prone to play with her food in a feline fashion, nor Pericles, who picked at his portions with the abdominal capacity of a sparrow. The beanpole of a boy just couldn't be coaxed with meals said to put "hair on his chest" or transition him into a "strapping young man". He jogged for fitness, and that was enough for now, thank you. Besides, it was an excellent time to collect, as the owls were surely regurgitating ten to sixteen hours after last night's ingestion, he was justifying explaining in approval along the way. Shrieks shattering the night air, accompanied by the batting of frenzied wings, was enough to tell the approaching duo that this wasn't going to be a simple eve of picking through bird poop. Wand-shy after his first year of experience, Pericles' slender fingers darted to the aspen in his pocket. His sleepy smile faded for a wary frown as he slid a stare towards Xailah, then picked up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time.

The scene they found waiting was enough to halt him in his tracks. He gawked at the crumpled single-sleeved figure, breathing "Is he...?" A word was omitted, and it wasn't "alright". While empathetic instincts urged him to barge forward and aid the prone figure, Pericles first took a moment to survey the scene of the crime before it was desecrated with well-intentioned footsteps. A paranoid precaution, perhaps inspired by too many nights laying awake reading Holmes, but one which just may pay off someday. Up at the owls, down across the detritus, wide eyes sweeping the straw as he tentatively moved out of the entryway. The smell of something burnt stung his nose.

Utilizing once-per-scene Keen Eye assessment.
"A 25% chance of automatically finding something (if there is anything to be found), not someone."

Nearly a year ago, a murder of Ravenclaws had followed Vladimir into the Forbidden Forest. Aida supposed everyone had their own reasons, some probably boiling down to simple curiosity, but did any of the students still have enduring reasons to observe Vladimir’s movements after so many months of apparently monotonous behavior? Aida did. She was on a mission, after all, and she saw Vladimir as the best possible key to realizing her goal of uncovering the lost past of her haunted best friend, Alexander Varellion. The loss of her own memories were important, of course, but it was clear that it was Alexander that had lost the most. Aida had been hoping to gather information by watching Vladimir, but more importantly she had been waiting for an opening she could wedge herself in through. She needed to find some traction if she was going to be useful on their quest. Nothing mattered as much as one day seeing Alexander whole again.

Alexander was the only person besides herself that Aida knew to be actively avoiding the standard food supply at Hogwarts. It was their work together that kept them subsisting on the most independent food sources they could manage. Alexander had his angle on advancing the situation, and Aida had silently decided that Vladimir would be hers. Yet, the young albino didn’t have the strengths that her best friend did. She would have to find a way that she herself was capable of, and instinctively Aida began with what she was best at: observation. She had been watching Vladimir at every convenient opportunity, mundane or not, possibly at hours that other students who frequented the dining hall could not. After all, she hadn’t eaten in the Great Hall since the Kitchen incident because she had a solemn promise to protect as a keeper of memory.

Aida only knew of Marion by knowing about Alexander’s interactions with her, and yet she had developed a fierce interest in Marion’s activities. It was inconvenient Aida couldn’t often observe the lovely young girl who was so frequently inside Slytherin-only territory, but perhaps this was a blessing that kept Aida from developing a truly sick obsession with her rival the possible lead.

In any case, the white witch knew she had to find her own way to contribute to the team effort. Being a female second-year Ravenclaw, Aida’s knowledge of both Marion’s and Vladimir’s disappearance may still have been limited, however. It was possible that she might have noticed a change in Vladimir’s movements if their schedules had so aligned, but some things were simply out of her hands.

While the mission for reclaiming Alexander’s memories dragged on without much headway day after day, Aida still had responsibilities and now it was time to take care of her owl, Scheherazade, again. Winding up the stairs to the owlery, Aida didn’t grow as tired as she would have a few months ago, and her wits were sharp from recent improvements in her diet.

Aida may have been one of the most hyperosmic humans in Ravenclaw, so upon entering the owlery the first thing she noticed was the pungent smell of something that had burned. Then she noticed the others, especially the fallen man. Cursing her lack of basic first aid magic, Aida instinctively went up to the blonde and tried to gather information about why he was laying prone. Specifically, Aida scanned for any injuries the man had, including any condition that might link him with the crutch. Perhaps his sleeve was missing in conjunction with a hand injury?

“What happened to you? Are you wounded? What hurts?” asked Aida in rapid succession.

Stats: Stamina✵ 4, Evasion✵ 6, Strength✵ 1, Wisdom✵ 10, Arcane Power✵ 10, Accuracy✵ 10
Abilities: Blindvision, Sixth Sense
Color code: #351C75
Free action: asking the man about his condition and what happened
Action: inspecting the man to try to find injuries and indications of what happened to him

@Pericles Dralt | @ Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

Had it not been for River’s recent urge to owl har father this very day, she would not have been making her way to the owlery. It was only by chance she had made the decision to do so at the time. She had not heard from him in quite the while, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry as to why he had not replied to her last owl.

Her relationship with her father had begun seeing the light once again the past few months. After such an agonizing amount of time being held in the shadows by him, they had finally started on the route of reconnecting the loose ends of their relationship. The ravenclaw had not known until recently how much this meant to her. She’d believed her distance from her family had only given her strengths and been a positive change, though the turn of events had proven otherwise.
Therefore these letters were important to her. It was important they were sent, received, read and then replied to. She yearned to hear from him again, more than she dared admit.

Letter in hand, she made her way through the castle, and out to the grounds. It was not unusual to encounter students making their way to and from the bird-holding tower, though she hoped there would not be many present.
There was just something about being alone that sounded wonderful to the girl, therefore she had picked the perfect time to send her letter. After dinner time. She left early hoping to avoid any rush of people headed the same way. Around her the grounds stretched far as the chill air of near spring filled her lungs. Her eyes dropped from looking at the trees nearby, down to the little envelope in her hands. Sealed in blue wax with a faint engraving of a crow. She ran a slender thumb over it, thoughts running off into an abyss of possible scenarios that might have happened back at home.

The shredding shrieks of birds ripped her mind back to reality as her head snapped up towards the tower. She was not far, and her pace quickened as the sound of wings quickly filled the air around the owlery. She tucked her letter into one of her large pockets before arriving through the entrance. Her eyes falling upon a terrifying scene. She wondered for a split second why she would always encounter something strange when she entered the owlery. Though nothing had been as weird as this. A person, clearly injured on the floor, familiar faces already present to the scene, birds flapping about like a gunshot had just gone off. “Was it all like this when you arrived?”, she asked those present, though she assumed their answers would be yes.
Looking around the place was nothing but a mess, and something smelled… burnt. Looking around Rivers' eyes landed on something that might have been of importance, she picked it up and scanned it for any knowledge on what had gone down right before her arrival.

Action: Examine the burnt letter to see if anything is legible
Stats: Stamina 7 | Evasion 6 | Strength 4 | Wisdom 10 | ArcPower 6 | Accuracy 7
Race & Abilities: Dhampir (aura on) & Perfectionist

Writing letters home was something that had taken a while for Henry’s mum to get used to. Owls were a strange way to send letters to the muggle family, but they had managed to get kind of used to it. It had been about six months since the school year had started, so they had plenty of time to get used to it. Henry’s mum reported still finding it odd that she had to give her letter to an owl to send it. She agreed with him that it was likely faster than a human messenger, but that it was just such a strange concept. She hadn’t said much about it lately, so Henry figured she was getting used to it.

Henry had written another response to his mum and was headed toward the Owlery to send it. As he walked the grounds, he noticed several other people ahead of him, going the same direction. It looked as if several other people had the same idea he had about sending letters at this hour. The night air was refreshing to Henry, and he missed being outside as often as he usually was back home. His siblings and him would go outside to play and mess around all the time, and he missed that. It was nice to spend time with friends inside and all, but he loved being outside. It was a good thing he was on the Quidditch team, at least, though being second string meant he didn’t really get to play.

Reaching the tower, he noticed several people ahead of him. After registering that everyone seemed to be concerned about something, he noticed the guy on the ground. With a small gasp, he rushed over to the guy’s side, not even bothering to see if there were any dangers immediately around him. “Is he awake?” He absently asked the girl crouching beside the guy, not sure if he was awake. Despite the girl having been there longer, Henry looked the guy up and down, in case he had more injuries or there was any clue as to what had happened.

Talking to @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood
Action: Looking for signs of injury/what happened
Abilities: Keen Eye
Stats: Sta.: 7 ll Eva.: 7 ll Str.: 3 ll Wis.: 4 ll ArcPow: 8 ll Acc: 6
color code = #5A8697

Some things weren't quite the same after the unfortunate train incident in Gryffindor. It was hardly a surprise anymore. Trauma, and time demanded change. Always. Meenauh appeared more or less the same after the event. Perhaps she bore one scar more than she had before the crash. But mentally, she still seemed to have all her nuts and bolts- maybe they were a tad looser. They were all there though, and that was all that mattered. Xailah on the other hand, emerged from the wreck a little more detached than she had been before. While not displayed in the company of others, she was quieter, lethargic, slightly more destructive. It was never a good sign. She was more prone to jumping headfirst into risky endeavors when she was like this. In the end, it was just a phase. It would likely fade in a months time. Maybe. She hoped. Pericles had the most noticeable change. He was... around more now. He was usually always around his two lionesses, that wasn't anything unusual. They were his closets friends, so he was kind of obligated to hang around them- since that was how the whole friend thing worked. Activities that were normally done alone, were now performed in the company of the boy- that was the unusual thing. That was the change. Xailah didn't like it.

And at first, she pondered the change, despite the fact that the answers were practically laying in front of her. Did he come out of guilt, or perhaps the fear of not being there for when the bony hand came to pluck the girls from their mortal plane? Eventually Xailah abandoned her questions, and accepted that this was how things were going to be from now on- or at least for awhile. While not fond, it did give her a new game to play that she called: sneak-away-from-Pericles. Which was essentially impromptu hide-and-seek, without any rules or warnings whatsoever. It was a result of her tendency to wander, and her nature of being a miscreant. Collecting was something Xailah did on her own time- outside the company of her friends. No particular reason for going solo other than the fact that it was what she simply did- and maybe because she was a wee bit afraid that her companions would shun her for peculiar hobbies. Today, the cub and the bird would be collecting owl pellets. What fun. Xailah was surprised to find that Pericles was not acting with repulsion (yet), rather he was expressing approval of some sort, as they ventured towards the Owlery. Schrödinger- the Gryffindors sentient glob of a cat- had not tagged along on this trip. Xailah couldn't bring him up to the Owlery anymore. He had a tendency to upset some of the owls.

Unlike Pericles, Xailah was not as quick to investigate the avian cries that were heard upon entering the Owlery. The two exchanged glances, but the Gryffindor was clearly in no rush. When Xailah heard the owls, she mistook the cause of their squabble for a cat that had entered the area. Personal experience had aided in the short-lived conclusion. Cats excited the birds. Then again, most predatory animals did. After a good second of listening, and mulling, Xailah took note that this wasn't their usual sort of screaming. The squalls that ricocheted off the walls, sounded a bit more like warnings- cries for help. No cat, fox, or quadrupedal beastie, could make an owl cry like that. Something- someone, had thrown the birds off-kilter. Was throwing them off-kilter. And here Pericles was, advancing towards the pandemonium. Aspen wood in reach. What if the thing that had caused the ruckus was still with the owls? The thought lit a (figurative) fire underneath Xailah. She bounded up the stairs, after her friend, not bothering with railings. The boy was about to sprint into a trap for all she knew- she couldn't be bothered with railings.

Damn that boy for going jogging in the mornings. He had no right to be nearly faster than she. "Pericles, wait-" Xailah called after him, breathily, trying to take the stairs three at a time. He would get to the top before her, causing the Gryffindor to quicken her pace. She would arrive at his side quickly, with a nice reprimanding prepared in her head. It would never be formed into anything verbal though- because the sight that was to greet the duo, caused any scolding and banter to be forgotten. Oh. Good. The trap got someone else instead. Before the children, lay the broken and battered form of a young male. Pericles would say something- no doubt a reaction to the obscure setting. Xailah momentarily fiddled with the little wooden box that she held- it contained tweezers, some bags, an extra set of gloves- it was a nice box, reserved only for the purpose of containing pellets. But by the looks of things, it would possibly be serving a different purpose now. "Maybe." Xailah finally said, answering Pericles. 'Maybe', was the safe answer. Usually. It was better than no answer that was for sure. Someone- where had they come from?- was quick to tend to the person on the ground. No need to jump into that. Xailah was too distracted by the owls to come to the mans aid anyways. Gosh those birds were loud. It was a shame they couldn't actually talk- they were clearly witnesses to something awful. Hm. That was a thought wasn't it? A room full of witnesses, but not one can explain a thing. Terrifying.

No explicit Interaction

Things had been different since the train derailed, sending a cohort of Nicholas's fellow Gryffindor students crashing into the snow in a cacophony of steel and fire. The boy had been lucky enough to have avoided the incident, only finding out the true extent of the injuries suffered after the fact. Nevertheless, his mother had naturally seen fit to fret and worry about how close he had been to such a dangerous situation, when in actuality he had been nowhere near any sort of jeopardy.

One such difference was the fact his parents now insisted on receiving more regular owls from their son, updates as to his health and wellbeing. Not so long ago, they had been content with Nicholas's general aloofness, and his constant forgetfulness of the need to actually reply to the owls that his family had sent. Not so much anymore.

Hence, the first year found himself as one of many students attending the owlery after dinner. A hastily written letter clutched in his hand, detailing the latest updates as to his time at Hogwarts. Very little of interest was contained in the letter, but he was to send it all the same. He couldn't help but feel a pang of irritation at the requirement. It was highly unlikely that he would, personally, ever be in a situation that would put him at any sort of risk remotely like that of his classmates. He kept to himself, he kept up his homework, and he kept his head down. He had more important thing to worry about when it came to school than seeking out danger or adventure, he had goals that could only be met if he managed to bring his grades up to an 'O' average. His folks were worrying over less than little, they were afraid over nothing.

The shrieking of the owls was the first indication that perhaps he had been wrong in that judgement, or at least premature in the assessment. The crisp night air was cut by the cries of the birds, to the point that even the usually distracted Nicholas found himself aware of them. He paused in his movement, considering for a moment whether he should attend the tower that night. After all, there could be something wrong.

He grit his teeth before letting out a small sigh, continuing on his journey. It was almost certainly nothing, a bird must have been spooked and worried the others. Besides, the hat had put him into Gryffindor for a reason, had it not? It would be unsightly for him to flee at the mere suggestion of something going wrong.

When he finally entered into the owlery, it seemed he may have misjudged just how serious the situation was. The sounds had appeared to summon more than just a few students, many of whom were now turning their attention to the chaotic scene that lay before them. Crates and straw were strewn about the room, the once pristine tower appearing as if ransacked. At the centre of the mess was an injured young man, an older boy who Nicholas did not recognise. He was of a different house and a different year, and for the life of him, he could not place his face.

Naturally, a number of students were drawn to the injured figure, attempting to gage whether he was okay. Another seemed to be examining what appeared to be a burnt piece of parchment. Nicholas didn't bother with looking at them, suddenly feeling very awkward and out of place. He didn't make eye contact, instead casting his glance to the room as a whole, and the crates that had been thrown about almost violently.

Doing his best to avoid getting in anyone's way, the first year approached some of the upturned crates, his brown eyes peering for any sign of forced opening. He had no clue what exactly he was looking for, and the more rational part of his brain was screaming at him to simply leave the scene. But for some reason, the part of him that wanted to help, to be involved, and the part of him that wanted absolutely no part of whatever was going on were at war, and thus his conscious brain settled on a workable compromise. Thus, the boy now found himself crouched and examining crates he were somewhat sure were mundane, the letter to his parents still clutched in his right hand.

Action: Examining the crates
Stats: STA: 7 | EVA: 6 | STR: 8 | WIS: 6 | ARC: 4 | ACC: 4
Abilities: Foulplay

Open to Interactions

This term at Hogwarts had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start. The whole train crash thing wasn't very fun; she didn't enjoy being a ragdoll thrown about the interior hall. Then there was the whole 'I fell down a well cause I saw a light at the bottom and broke my leg' incident, which she still felt like she hadn't fully recovered from. But the thing that probably hurt her the most, was instantly losing the trust of her new avian friend, Borvo. She had just received the owl as a Christmas present over the holiday break and while they had hit it off well, his trip back to Hogwarts wasn't the smoothest. While attempting to save him from the train wreckage, her spell went horribly awry, and instead of gingerly lifting him down from the compartment that was now above her, he managed to get shot directly out of the train, almost like a cannonball. Ever since then he has been irritated with her. Of course, she understood why, but he had to know she hadn't done it intentionally. Since then, she made it a point to try to visit the owlry once a day, to feed Borvo a treat, and to make sure he was happy.

Today, things were different. She entered the Owlery, and gasped at the sight of someone crumpled on the floor. 'Oh no.' She took a moment to peer around the room. There were overturned crates, the owls all looked flustered, and straw was thrown everywhere. Some sort of burning smell also reached her nose.

But of course, here first initial reaction was to that of her own owl, for she couldn't bear it if something happened to him again. She began to look around in the owlery, searching for her own bird. Perhaps she could find out something from him? If nothing else, she could confirm he was okay. "Borvo? Where are you? Come here!" she called up into the tall tower. She held her right arm out like a perch and waited.

Action: Calling for her owl, Borvo, to come to her to check his safety/possibly find something out from him

For Moderation:
Stamina: 4 - Evasion: 5 - Strength: 6 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane: 6 - Accuracy: 5
Abilities: Healing Sage

@Pericles Dralt was being a good friend to @Xailah Alptraum. The purebloods were seemingly inseparable, the disaster that was their return to Hogwarts aboard the Hogwarts express following the holiday season was a bitter reminder of how badly things can go wrong. That people were precious and that nothing can be taken for granted. A train ride was not just a means of transportation, it was an event that could prove perilous in the blink of an eye. Sometimes when there is a risk of loss, value is truly realized. Xailah was something worth attaching to, worthy of keeping, preserving and persevering for.

The girl's interest in owl pellets was not one of her more charming facets. Those repulsive regurgitated masses of undigested bone would draw the duo from the well-traveled corridors up the winding stairs of the western tower to the Owlery. Most of the students would be otherwise disposed, promising a quiet peace where most would retire to their common rooms or wander the grounds while they digested their evening meal. Hogwarts had a habit of offering large, heavy meals. The sort that would leave many of their peers sluggish.

The scene before him should have been the hoot of owls, the restless flap of wings and perhaps a meddlesome house elf that was endeavoring to keep the Owlery neat. A full-time job that no elf would be able to accomplish, it was an endless stream of avian waste. It was the felled person in the heart of the room that was out of the ordinary. A reinforcement that perhaps Pericles should never leave Xailah's side -- her propensity to find disasters was concerning.

Peri was not one to act in thoughtless haste. He paused just past the threshold, his steely eyes would scan the space in search of anomalies or perhaps in search of what was normal in such an abnormal situation.

Pericles observes.

Keen Eye Roll: 30 failure
Observation Roll: (+8 wisdom): 16 success [24]

There were a few noteworthy observations to be made. Beyond the burnt letter and the disheveled setting - as if someone or something was searching for something. Someone was laying face down, they were not moving. From where he stood, he would not be able to tell if the boy was breathing but there was a crutch -- not many people use crutches. In a world of magic, a wave of the wand would alleviate most forms of suffering. Crutches would be a temporary, fleeting need in most cases. However, with all things there can be an exception. Either a recent injury, one that magic had not quickly been able to heal or a chronic, magically-induced injured state.

@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood would make her way past Pericles, making her way into the heart of the room. Her attachments to @Alexander Varellion would change her life and her experience at Hogwarts. Rather than enjoy her tenure in this magical academy, free from worry and trepidation she would find herself ensconced in it. Fearful of the food, of the 'help' or the secrets and of the things she was aware that she had forgotten. She and Alex both were taxing themselves, seeking meals like frontiers-people. Alexander had the terrible plan of cozying up with a suspicious, seemingly dumb stereotype of a powderpuff his angle on advancing the situation. Wooing was more Alex's forte, Aida preferred a more hands off approach -- observation.

Aida remembers...

Roll: 18 (+10 wisdom)

In the weeks that followed winter break, Vladimir would be strangely absent from the common room, from classes, from the great hall. He would have only returned about a week earlier, a bit paler than previously not that his pallor could compare to hers. He had a severe limp, a brace hidden beneath his pantleg and a single crutch under his right side. He stood out, he was easier to follow.

He kept to himself for the most part, but he would have brief meetings with primarily Marion as well as several other Slytherins Aida had not met (in any thread). He did not stay in the great hall for meals, but on occasion she would see him take a handful of fruit or nut that he would wash under running water for several minutes before consuming. He drank primarily tapwater. He spent most of his time in the library in full view of Aida's curiosity. In truth, he was well-aware that he was being observed. His patterns were purposeful and obvious. This would have been the first time she had lost track of Athanatos besides whenever he slept in his dorm at night or when he showered. There were some places she was just not able to go and thankfully not be able to observe.

Vlad was missing for almost an hour.

It was after he left the Medical wing, a trip he took early. The timing was wrong, a bit off. He entered the Medical Wing and would leave in under five minutes, but it would be in the Medical Wing that he would not leave again. If Aida eventually entered the Medical Wing she would see a few staff members tending to minor injuries, but there would be no sign of Athanatos.

She would find her quarry by mere happenstance as she entered the Owlery to tend to Scheherazade. What she would find would be the very man she hunted, only he was felled by another's hand.

Observation (body)

Roll: 4 (+10 wisdom)

Why he was laying prone?

She could not ascertain a specific injury that would have caused this state. The young man was the recipient of a terrible beating. His hands were cut, his arms were abraded and the early signs of bruises were starting to form. The crutch she would recognize, it was vaguely reminiscent of a muggle crutch but that was hardly important. It was the metal was was off, it had a bit of a blueish sheen. It did not have adjustment pins near the base, the crutch appeared to be custom made to fit this person in particular. Evidence of wealth. Evidence that this was not a muggle crutch. Memory would recall only one person with injuries that required a crutch, not that they were close enough to discuss the circumstances of his condition, only that he had a notable limp.

There was a length of cloth tied tightly around his bicep, his arm distal to this length of cloth was dusky, almost purple. a dark, inky mark extended past his antecubital space. A splotch of black, clotted blood rested in the nook of his arm.

[color=#351C75l]“What happened to you? Are you wounded? What hurts?”[/color]

She would get no answer. He was not moving.

To the trio's back, a confused Prefect (@River Dewlight) would arrive. No stranger to disaster her years in Hogwarts, there was no reason to panic. No, it was time to think. It was what defined them as Ravenclaws perhaps, her ability to hypothesize and observe. So her first action was to ask -- “Was it all like this when you arrived?”

Her voice was warm, calm. She was not as cautious as her fellow Prefect Pericles and Xailah. She would walk around the duo and make her way to... the letter. Indeed, she was not a Hufflepuff, she was a curious person who wanted to know the secret(s) the letter might reveal. As for the felled person, she abided by the bystander effect -- someone else will tend to him.

She would follow her nose and find a burnt letter. A piece of paper deemed so important that someone went through the bother of burning a communication.

River attempts to pick up the letter (safely).

Roll (average accuracy/evasion): 1 (+6.5 accuracy/evasion) critical failure negated by Perfectionist

By all rights, that sheet of paper, or what was left to it should have crumbled the way she had man-handled it. flakes of blackened paper would break off and litter the floor in ebony dust. There was a bit of a scribble left but it was not safe in her hands. She would not be able to make out what portion of the communication survived the incendiary moment. nd scanned it for any knowledge on what had gone down right before her arrival.

By the time @Henry Llewellyn had come upon the scene a small crowd had formed. At least a small crowd in terms of the Owlery. He was likely the only one with a legitimate concern for the fallen youth. Where Aida had her own objectives and River was more interested in what she could learn while Pericles was frozen in a state of cautious observation.

“Is he awake?”

He was not. He was not moving, not responding...

Henry would take a closer look, taking his perch (punny) alongside Aida.

Henry observes - 25% chance Keen Eye.
Roll: 26

Henry observes (wisdom) Roll: 3 (+4)

He would be able to glean little more from the fallen boy. He was not even certain that the young blonde was still alive.

"Pericles, wait-" Xailah panted, ultimately late to the drama. Peri had stopped and quietly observed the goings on for a short time before the lion had caught up to the bird. When did the nerd get so fast? When did he become a lion and run towards potential peril - the girl who might be half cat had a primal sense it would seem for these things. The metamorphmagus had called it with terrifying accuracy - the owls don't get fussed easy. This was more than a fox or a cat in their resting place, something significantly more threatening had left the owls distraught.

"Maybe." Xailah would answer (presumably) Henry. 'Maybe', was the safe answer. Usually. It was better than no answer that was for sure. Xailah would look up.

Xailah observes the owls.

Roll (wisdom): 1 (+10) Critical Failure

Xailah did not have perfectionist to save her, unlike River. When she looked up, the metamorphmagus would regret it. There was in fact a bird directly above her. Ill-timed, a glob of something white (not dark brown and pellet-like) would be evacuated from the feathery bowels of the owl overhead.



Yes, that just happened...

@Nicholas McCowan was new to the concept of 'death' awaiting him around every corner. His poor memory was perhaps a reflection of more than mere distraction. The year would move by quickly, in the blink of an eye really. As many of his classmates had already come to realize -- he did not need to seek adventure or disaster to find either.

The owls would let off a warning cry. One that he would ignore. The call for adventure is not always obvious. Yet, he would feel compelled in some strange way to continue to climb those steps, despite the noise. In spite of the experiences of others he so easily forgot or overlooked, he would not turn away. He was not a Ravenclaw in spite of his aspirations. That perfect average might suffer from a few nights in the medical wing. He did not turn away.

When he finally entered into the owlery and he saw the scene before him. How disaster had befallen another, he did not turn away. He would not know the young man on the ground, too badly beaten, not nearly famous enough for his face to be known more than his reputation.

It would appear that he was the clinical sort rather than a humanitarian. His brown eyes would focus on the broken crates, peering for any sign of forced opening.

Nicholas observes the crates.

Roll (wisdom): 16 (+6)

He had no clue what exactly he was looking for, but he would jot down several mental notes. The first being that the crates were ripped open. The wood was cracked and broken. In some cases the nails that held the crates together were still deeply embedded into the wood. The crates were locked, for all the good the lock done considering the fact that something apparently physically powerful had ripped into these crates. The crates themselves appeared to be filled with straw. Not fresh straw, likely the straw from this very room being re-used as packaging. A few of the crates, only a single wall had been ripped loose and the straw remained mostly in place. It would be obvious that the crates serves as a nest for something that was no longer there. Areas of depression serves as markers where something that was no longer there. Yes, something was stolen.

A count of the crates - there was a dozen at least. All of them open. Torn apart. Strange, very strange. What was taken? Why was it taken?

@Starlee Kennedy would be the last to arrive. The call of the birds did not seem to alert her. She did not have an ulterior reason for coming here beyond sending off a letter or perhaps checking on her pet owl. It was likely the later, Borvo seemed to be the princess peach of Hogwarts at least for Starlee. Whenever something went wrong and her owl was near, he would get in trouble, be traumatized, get hurt.

That terrible sense of trepidation washing over her, the boy, the letter, and the crates were secondary to what was hers. She was a Slytherin after all, the priorities were characteristic.

"Borvo? Where are you? Come here!"

At first she would not see Borvo, there were just so many other owls. The noise was deafening, it was too hard to tell which cry belonged to her owl. Yet her owl could hear her and it would make itself known. Fussed once again, potentially traumatized. The terrified owl was in fire need of birdy Xanax but alas all he would get is a familiar face.

Could the bird tell Starlee a thing?

No, for he was but a bird.

But of note, Borvo was safe (physically). In fact, all of the owls were. They just seemed upset, disturbed and terrified. They were not the target of this attack it would seem.

@Xailah Alptraum | @River Dewlight

The eaglette had hopped up the steps with a spring, not to be held back by the brief urging from his friend, which went woefully unanswered. His head and heart were already starting to thrum with anticipation. The scene with which they were met was enough to halt him in his tracks however, leaving him wide-eyed and drinking in the room, sending Xailah an uneasy sideways look. Maybe, she'd said. The probability twisted a twinge in his stomach. Aida was speaking to the unconscious figure, but received no response. Pericles was juxtaposed between his empathy and curiosity, the overwhelming urge to make sure the injured fellow was alright and the innate inclination to investigate. Fear simmered under the surface, exposing itself only as a shiftiness in the eyes and a soft furrow of the forehead. He did what he could to contain his feelings, leaning on rationality, trying to determine how he could best serve the situation. They needed an adult. Adults would have questions. The more he knew about the scene, the more answers he would have for them, and the greater sense he could derive from the chaos. Making sense of things brought peace and security... that's what he had to do, he deduced.

A blessing from the rolls mind honed by the upbringing of a more-or-less paranoid auror enhanced attention to details. Pericles was capable of considering a situation, and coming away from it with a variety of possibilities. The crude, chaotic way in which the scene was strewn implied a search of some sort, as hardly anyone had reason to trash the entire owlery, and the mess didn't exactly line up with the layout of a fight. What could they have been searching for...? What of value would be found in boxes of owlery supplies? Had someone tried to smuggle something into the school through them? Had Vladimir tried to stop them? Why ever did he have a cane...?

A boy looking at the boxes, a girl calling for her owl, two investigating the unconscious fallen figure. A splat. He glanced over at Xailah where his gaze was instantly drawn to the splotch of white against her dark ensemble. Had he not been suffering an extreme case of The Willies from this disturbing situation, he might have made a clever remark, but instead tutted a comforting "Ah-" and dug into a pocket, whipping out a cloth kerchief. The gray square sported an embroidered white Ouroboros, but he didn't at all seem opposed to the idea of smearing his household emblem if it meant helping her. They were joined by a friendly face, and Pericles managed to scrounge up an uneasy smile for River. "We've only just arrived," he confirmed quietly, the regret in his voice implying he wished he knew what had happened. "We need to get help...." Just, not yet. He couldn't abandon the scene just yet. There were already a few folks invested in the fallen figure's wellness, enough cooks in that kitchen.

He too spotted the source of the smoky smell, that scorched piece of parchment, silver stare gone round when it began to deteriorate in her hands. In a blink, he seemed to be by her side, poopy kerchief abandoned with Xailah and wand rapidly in hand. "River?" Those eyes were fixed, unblinking, bright with excitement. That could be the thing, the source of answers, and oh how he craved some opportunity to better grasp what in the world was going on. "Would you mind if I...?" He held out a hand. If she allowed it, he would place the parchment on the ground, crouching over it and rolling up his sleeves. After all: what if the letter hadn't been burned, but had caused an explosion? What if there was some dangerous rune on it, and touching it caused more calamity? Such were the thoughts of a paranoid DND player cautious investigator. Unless otherwise interrupted, stopped, or distracted, Pericles would touch his wand to the bit of mangled letter and breathe "Papyrus Reparo."

If River allows, casting the Paper Repair Spell on the letter
If Xai allows, wiping owl caca off her