Onaji Kama no Meshi o Kuu PV Selim Closed

"In the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me." - William Shakespeare

It was likely luck that brought Kazuo to where he was. After Selim had met Howard White, he had moved shop so that his location was anonymous once more...well, sort of.

See, in a fit of impatience he had simply moved back to a familiar room, and a second room that had once been hidden away by a door was now visible from the first.

The second room was larger than the first, the makeshift racks of masks freshly remounted had grown in size since the dhampir had last visited him. The leather-stretching racks still took up one wall of that room alongside the drying racks and mask hooks. In the center was the workbench, a half-made boar mask lain upon it. There was a rickety shelf holding various substances that were likely taking the place of commercial paints, a small square table with two chairs, and even a cot laying against the floor next to the tunnel entrance.

The first room though still held that table-bed abomination from Selim's experiment, but it was cleaned, stains from the unfortunate past were neigh-invisible to the naked eye. There was even a threadbare sheet covering the table-bed-thing, and the structure itself was extended, reaching one wall with its lengthwise side facing the entrance.

A jar was placed on it, along with a few papers and ink well alongside its designated quill. To put it briefly, the once-torture-table was turned into a rudimentary shop counter. A length of ratty rope served as the 'employee entrance'. Masks lined the walls, of various animals now including magical creatures, all hyper-realistic, all oddly haunting.

Selim had begun to show off his wares even though his customer base was non-existent.

Upon entering the room, the drastic change would be laid bare before him, the only light source being the faint glow from the door in the left wall, and the candle flickering on the 'counter'.

Selim was in the 'backroom', working on the boar mask with hyperfocused attention. Brush weaving along the fabric-bound leather, one hand held aloft with Aku on its end, head crooked down as if observing the art. An old gramophone played an eery, tinny tune on repeat as it sat on the small table. Leaning against it was another record in its case, making up a whole two song choices.

Sitting on one of the few bone/wood/plastic-hewn shelves that were empty, was Kioshi, who had long since gone missing from the now-empty Snape dorm. Kioshi was now Selim's mouser, something he had needed after finding one of his art pieces chewed through by a rat (Which he then found and ate).

Selim had not forgotten about his cat during his lacking presence in school, he had just known that he wasn't in the right mental space to care for the eternally-kind feline. Those months he knew Kioshi would gain the care he needed from his dormmates through simply being himself. Though, in saying that, Selim had checked up on the cat a few times, peeking inside the dorm door and hearing the padding of paws on wood as Kioshi promptly returned to his 'dad' to say hello and show his approval for the brief visit.

Now the tom cat was lounging on the ledge he had claimed, ratty embroidered bandana still firmly around his fluffy neck, accommodated by Selim in the form of a ratty, half box bed lined with an old dishcloth. Below the cat shelf were two chipped bowls, one holding the scraps of meat Selim had gained by catching rats when the cat was feeling too lazy to, the other holding some water Selim poured from his own store of water flasks. In the far corner was a 'litterbox' which was actually just the bare soil that was below the stone floor of the dungeons which Selim had dug up in that spot.

The cat was comfortable despite the small living space, though he wasn't only trapped there. Kioshi was allowed to follow Selim through the school, be it when the boy needed to steal food or hunt rats in the dungeons, or when the Slytherin travelled outside of the school to collect more materials for his hobby shop.

It looked like a barely-livable-but-surprisingly-not-terrible living space. It was firmly secluded from the student population, cool in the summer and cool in the winter, stocked up with food scraps and a strong supply of drinking water, and it was also a place Selim kept busy, kept his mind off his problems and his strife.

Even had an emotional support cat.

In the span of seven months, Selim had effectively become a mask-obsessed hermit that lurks in the basement of the headmaster's abode.

Well, not entirely a hermit. Selim still met up with Kaegen occasionally. Though, less was seen from him since he no longer had to attend classes. He refused to even think of going home, that place hardly felt safe, hardly felt like it was somewhere to enjoy summer. He had no doubts that his clan was looking for him but he no longer cared to be their tool.

The Slytherin had made a life for himself in the limbo between sanity and insanity... He wasn't cured, of course, sometimes he had breakdowns, snaps from reality, or bad episodes. Usually, though, either Kioshi was there to gradually draw himself back to reality or he had to simply wait it out and hope there were no damages as a result.

While Selim did have a cot, sleep was still neigh-unreachable. He tried to, he really did, but the fear kept him up, the whispers and shapes moving in the flickering candlelight haunted him. He managed sometimes, for two to three hours, but usually, he was awoken by the demon that kept him away from proper rest... the Sallow Man. He'd often have to suffer through a relapse into a time he wished he could forget and would wake up to his cat lapping at his face with his coarse, feline tongue, meowing plaintively as if worried.

Usually, after that Selim would have a long cuddle session with Kioshi, which the cat always adored. The rumbling purr calming his heart and stilling his mind. On good nights after the Sallow Man left and Kioshi was at his side, he'd sometimes get a full sleep, a fitful sleep but a full one... these happened once a week, usually with week-long gaps of poor rest.

If it wasn't a good night, after the session with his furred friend he'd return to the workbench, and work on whatever project he had out.

This was one of those times. The boy adorned in his mask had awoken from a particularly harsh session with the Sallow Man that still tainted his mind. Kioshi, as per usual, had woken him from it. For a while, Selim had just sat there, curled up around the charcoal-furred feline as the tom rumbled warmly against his chest in a satisfied purr... slowly drifting to sleep himself.

When the cat went to sleep Selim shifted gingerly as to not disturb him, and returned to his workbench to continue his boar mask.

He had many boar masks, but they were all different. The rate he had begun pumping out the art had slowly picked up over the months since he started, and usually, he could finish one mask in two to three days.

It was mind-numbing, relaxing work. He didn't have to think about anything while he did it, he just let his brush, his needle, guide him. It stuck him in some sort of trance that he was more than happy to indulge in. A lot of time passed, and the candle Selim had worked by was melted to a nub. He'd have to steal more candles later.

That was when he was unexpectedly disturbed. Unbeknownst to Selim, for he had been in his trance, Kioshi had begun plaintively meowing, informing him of a visitor that apparently did not know how to knock.

The solitary boy was baffled, he and Kaegen were not scheduled to meet up that day. Was it perhaps an emergency?

His questions stopped though when he heard a familiar voice.



The boy blinked, he had not heard that name in a while. Kaegen still referred to him as 'Tea' (Aku still being 'Mushroom'), and the dhampir was the only other being he had interacted with this summer.

It took a moment for him to search for his foggy brain, thoughts still busy swirling with memories of the sleep paralysis. His memory was still or from lack of rest, and it took longer than it likely should've to put a face to the voice and a name to the face.

....'That's right... Kazuo..."

The last time he had seen his kohai was the Blossom ball.

What in Merlin's name was he doing here? most of the students had left for the summer, so why was the Jackel at his doorway?

Warily, Selim rose, standing in his 'backroom' and pondering the situation. He was dressed as he usually was, long-sleeved white shirt, baggy grey sweatpants, and bandage wrappings around the soles of his calloused feet. The white rabbit mask was perched on his face, had become a bit stained by dust and leather treating fluid. He'd learn the cleaning charm properly... eventually.

Likely the only spell he'd use regularly, he couldn't clean stained masks the 'muggle way' because it could damage him, and he was definitely willing to use magic to keep his art as pristine as the day he made it.

Kioshi had already gone to greet the newcomer, padding primly out of the backroom through the doorway, and leaping gracefully atop the counter. The dark-furred cat meowed again, tail raised and crooked at the end to show contentment at the Hufflepuff meeting him. The tomcat padded back and forth for a few moments, still meowing, then lept to the ground and wove around Kazuo's legs, purring loudly.

Selim sighed, Kioshi was a terrible guard cat.

"He's a good cat but he sees almost every stranger as a future person to pet him." Aku snorted humorously.

Rolling his eyes, but already aware of the fact, the sallow boy walked out of the room and into the 'shop'. Still behind the counter, he paused, eyeing his kohai warily for a few moments, before walking up to the table-bed- abomination that was separating the two of them. The ratty rope was still stretched across the gap between the end of the counter and the wall, as if it would keep out everyone from his workspace.

Idly, the rabbit masked boy leaned against the countertop, cocking his head as the blank face of the hare gazed at the Jackal befor him. "... And what bring you here, dear kohai?" Hardly a greeting, but Selim hasn't had to properly greet people for a while now.

"This seems suspicous." Ronri muttered in his mindscape, his yellow eyes narrowed slightly. 'I know....'

Kioshi meowed, leaping back onto the counter and rubbing against Selim's mask, still purring. The mildly amusing scene interrupted most of the tension coming from the Slytherin, who in turn sighed. Leaning back a bit as the tomcat ducked under the snout of his mask, head rubbing it, he shifted, using his free hand to stroke the feline even as he bumped his head against Aku.

The rabbit snickered in amusement as Selim muttered lightly. "I know, I know you're happy to meet a new person, Kioshi, but do you really have to ask for a petting session now?" The tom meowed, the thin boy huffed.

Selim was obviously still malnourished and underweight, his baggy clothes hanging too loosely off his frame, his thin wrists, the occasional glimpse of ribs pressing against threadbare white fabric clearly announced his state of self-care. In most ways, he simply physically looked unwell. Despite this, he seemed much more stable than the last two times his kohai had seen him, not in a fit of insanity or constant dread, just... living.

Of course, this was just a glimpse of the boy's day. He was a workaholic, always weaving his threads, crafting masks, painting fabric, or scrounging for food. He barely had human contact, still fell into relapses and breaks from reality... but it wasn't constant anymore, there was that.

After stroking his companion, he examined the boy again, movement of his eyes mostly hidden in shadows.

His amber hues landed on the papers clutched in the boy's hand, and immediately he went on guard, frame almost imperceptibly tensing.

"And what are those...?"

The cat sprawled on the counter between them, still oh-so relaxed despite the likely fight that was going to happen in the next few moments.

Kazuo gazed around the room, eyes taking in the changes that had been made since his last visit. It seemed Selim had endeavoured to turn the empty space into something more but it was not immediately apparent to Kazuo what that was supposed to be. Masks lined the walls, a menagerie of animal faces staring at him. The table that had been used to imprison Flash had been converted to something else… a counter? A… shop? Selim had set up a shop in the dungeons? What a fascinating development if a bit pointless considering that it was summer vacation. Maybe the hags would buy his masks.

It wasn’t Selim who came to greet him but that did not mean Selim wasn’t there. The appearance of Selim’s cat made Kazuo grin a bit, moving forward as Kioshi paraded across the counter. He crouched when the cat wove between his legs, giving him scritches with his free hand. He hadn’t seen Kioshi in quite a while and was glad that the cat seemed to be no worse off despite his owner’s descent into madness. At least Selim hadn’t abandoned his cat. He rose slowly as Selim entered the room, taking in his newest affectation. The mask… so it was Selim who had been creeping people out at the Blossom Ball while Kazuo had been busy watching the brawl unfold.

“I love the scenery. All cold stone, spiders and rats. Fits my aesthetic, don’t you think?” Kazuo replied with a cheerful smile, sarcasm obvious in his tone. “After Erin introduced me to her lovely friends I thought I’d come pay them a visit. Interesting new look. I heard it got you attacked at the Ball.” That last part was spoken with genuine amusement. He glanced down at the papers when Selim finally noticed them, raising them up and placing them on the counter for Selim to take and read, should he choose to. It was a photocopy of course, the original documents well away from here and filed away among the Shimada clan’s records. Still proof enough for its purpose here and now.

“I’ve made arrangements.” Kazuo spoke quietly, all previous humour and sarcasm cast away to reveal the serious boy beneath the charming mask he usually wore. “It took time, my parents had to do quite a bit of digging and… politics… to make it happen. So here it is. You’re no longer a… Faust. Officially. Your father signed the papers. You’ve been adopted into the Shimada clan. I’m here today, searching the dungeons for you, to give you these. And bring you back. To what will be your home from now on.”

Kazuo finished his explanation, watching Selim silently, awaiting the older boy’s response. It was hard for him to predict how Selim might react and so he kept a tight grip on his wand, just in case, the continued glow of lumos bathing them both in soft light.

@Selim Faust

Selim Text Color: #4d0f25
Aku Text Color: #614f6d

"In the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me." - William Shakespeare

Selim snorted at the lighthearted comments, "I was attacked, some idiot girl tried to use pepper spray on me. The cursed thing made my artpiece reek of it for weeks after." His finger tapped the 'counter' in annoyance at the memory before stilling, hardly the time to reminisce, that obviously wasn't what the Jackal came here for.

Kioshi meowed, lapping at the free hand with his raspy tongue, only to pause as the papers were set down to instead investigate them. The feeling quickly dismissed the documents though, instead opting to settle down near the oil lamp that was lighting up the room.

His kohai's next words had snagged the solitary Slytherin's attention, they were shocking, though. As the younger boy went on Selim could swear his heartbeat was growing louder, louder in his ears.

The end of the words was met with an eerie silence. The emaciated boy had gone deathly still, as if turned into a marble statue. All that betrayed his state of life was his breathing. The stretch of silence seemed endless until Selim finally shifted. His mask was blank, hiding his fearful expression.

'It can't be true...'

The hand unadorned by the puppet slowly reached out, trembling slightly, pausing over the papers, then gently grasping them with delicate fingers. Pulling them closer he looked down, eyes scouring every line, looking for any discrepancy, anything to prove his doubts correct.

His eyes fell down on the signature at the end, heartbeat picking it up. His father's signature. He knew it was his, he had seen it so many times while accompanying him for business ventures, but he didn't want to believe it. Couldn't believe it. Despite this, there it was.

'𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝕱𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖙 '

His thoughts were in overdrive, trying everything and anything to try and convince himself it wasn't true, but every thought was debunked by cold hard logic. Blood was rushing in his ears, the whispers seemed louder than before as everything felt as if it were swaying around him once again.

Given up.

His father had given him up. After so many years trying to make him into he perfect heir, the perfect weapon, he had given up. He had been handed over to another family. By his father. That man that at every turn tried to control his every move, had given up control?

'Impossible'.

'That's his signature, it has no flaws, no signs of being forged. It's real.' Ronri commented in his swirling mindscape.

'But how?'

Th voice hummed, impassive, only seeming slightly surprised, 'That man would never do it willingly. They must've had something on him that could be used against the clan.'

'There are very few things that could drive him to this, impossible.' Selim argued internally, all the while standing still, a few paces away from the counter, hand shaking.

'This was one of those few things, I suppose..'

He slowly looked down at his hand, 'No, they would've resorted to killing if it was that bad-'

'Yet here their son stands, unharmed, alive.' Ronri reaffirmed, their silent conversation unbroken, 'Those are wholly professional, legal adoption papers. In the eyes of the law, you are no longer a member of the Faust clan. Nothing you argue will change that.'

The tipping point. Logic won out. The shell-shocked boy rested a hand on his head, the world spinning as he slowly sunk to his knees, breaths shallow and quick. Emotions churned inside him tied to no one thought, coiling through his mind and setting him in a chaotic haze. Everything had been shattered once more, but on a much grander scale.

His whole form trembled, his head was bowed, hand bracing against the floor in front of him. All he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears. His mind swirled, uncontrolled and overwhelming as things he could only see, sounds he could only hear cluttered everything even further.

He was free, free from the cage, dragged into a new one, one that was unfamiliar, unknown. He should've felt overjoyed, but all he could feel was an abject terror as 'what-ifs' twisted their way around his stability.

"Nii-san..." The word left his mouth without him really thinking about it. His older brother was left in the clan, in the clan without Selim as a restraint.

His brother wanted to bring about the downfall of the Faust clan but had always restrained himself from doing so because Selim was there... now though...

"He's going to act rashly." Ronri finished the thought grimly.

The idea dredged up fear. His brother, if he acts on his desires-- he'll die. A worst-case scenario, but it was the most likely one.

Both hands now clutched at his scalp, Aku left discarded beside him. The inside of the mask was becoming damp with water vapour and cold sweat. The shallow, rushed breathing was egged on by his panic, and soon blossomed a sharp pain in his chest. He let out a hiss of air, bandaged hand clutching at the spot he felt it sourced, and he fell into a coughing fit.

It was hard to breathe under the mask, and he roughly tore it off after loosening the straps. It fell to the ground beside Aku. One hand was cupped around his mouth as the relentless fit continued a bit longer before easing, leaving behind an exhausted boy.

He paused, before slowly shifting to peer at his palm. Familiar flecks of red decorated his sickly pale skin. Slowly, he let out a rattling breath. "Tch... thought I had recovered from that." He spoke weakly, voice hoarse.

His mind had gone numb and light, almost feeling like it was buzzing with static. He lowered the dirtied hand back to the stone floor, continuing to brace his position. His other hand still clutched at his chest. Blankly he watched droplets of saltwater land on the ground below.

'Nii-san...' He slowly closed his eyes. 'I'm free now, just like you wanted.' He mused on the thought in a detached fashion, then inwardly sighed. 'I didn't want to leave you behind though. I wanted you to be free too.'

Selim thought he'd feel lighter if this ever happened to him, but now he felt a thousand times heavier. What a scam.

For a brief moment, a broken laugh escaped him, no hint of joy behind it. His irritated lungs responded with more coughing. He cupped his hand over his mouth again, the lack of air made him all the more lightheaded.

When it passed he wheezed a few moments longer, before slumping back on his knees. Slowly, he let himself collapse onto the ground, feeling as if the strength had been sapped from his bones.

Shifting he sprawled onto his back, giving his lungs more room to breathe. Face now revealed, details such as the scars coiling around one side of his face from the masquerade, or how deep the bags around his eyes were now had become visible. His cheeks were sallow, his eyes dull with exhaustion, his skin too pale, all in all, he looked like he was at death's door ready to ask for
a spot of tea.

Now numb from shock, he didn't even seem to remember his kohai was in the room with him. Kioshi lept down from the counter and padded closer to him, sniffing his face before proceeding to groom it. Unlike usual, it didn't draw any reaction from the shell-shocked boy.

He had become blissfully apathetic, the feeling bringing up memories of when he was drinking tea during the fight club while chatting with Athanatos. He still hadn't gotten his hands on any of that tea.

The only thing that broke the silence was the occasional burst of coughing, which didn't last very long. The palm he had coughed into was upturned, showing the small splashes of red, red he hadn't coughed up since his 'reunion' with Jack, and the brief relapse he had after the Blossom Ball.

Troublesome indeed.

He couldn’t help but to chuckle at Selim when he explained that Aurora had peppersprayed him. “Your artpiece?” He inquired, glancing around at the mask bedecked walls once more. “Are you becoming a maskmaker? They are certainly intriguing.” His attention returned to Selim and he grinned. “Would you make a fox mask? If I showed you one, could you replicate it?” Though he asked, the question would no doubt go forgotten as Selim would try to process the news Kazuo had brought.

He fell silent, watching passively as Selim attempted to comprehend exactly what he had been presented with. He had not told Selim that he had gone to his parents for help, nor that they had agreed to look into it. He really had no idea how Selim would react to the news, if the boy would be happy or angry, relieved or furious. The eerie stillness, the absolute silence that greeted him he read as shock, the only thing he had to go off being Selim’s voice and body language. The mask disguised any expression the older boy might have had. Yet slowly Selim began to react. He reached for the papers, read them, stared at them. The silence stretch, lingering far too long.

Kazuo knew that what he had done might not be welcomed, that was why he hadn’t spoken of it beforehand. He knew that he was about to turn Selim’s entire life upside down. He expected Selim might hate him for what he had done, effectively stealing him away from his clan, his family. Yet if that was the outcome, he could accept it because he believed with absolute conviction that Selim needed to be free of his family in order to have even a chance of getting better.

When Selim sunk to his knees, hand on his masked head, Kazuo moved slowly. Passed the weak boundary to come around to Selim’s side of the counter. A murmured word Kazuo recognized, a concern welling up. Selim had a brother? A miscalculation. An immediate and unfortunate realization that he hadn’t looked at the bigger picture. Though he also hadn’t been able to. Surely his parents would have, though. “You have a brother…” He whispered. He watched as Selim discarded his puppet, gripping his head in his hands, watched as he began to pant and pull off the mask. He frowned as Selim seemed to be taken by a coughing fit, crouching but remaining at a distance, making sure to give Selim space.

Finally, Selim sprawled on the floor, whatever convoluted emotional response he had gone through seemingly spent. Kazuo studied Selim silently as he lay there, noting how unwell the older boy was looking. One look at Selim and Kazuo’s parents would understand completely why Kazuo had asked for this. “I genuinely can’t tell how you’re feeling about this.” He spoke quietly, still serious. “But I hope you understand that I asked for this because no one else seemed willing to do anything to help you.” A single statement, the closest Kazuo would get to telling Selim that he cared about what was happening to him. “Now… can you walk or am I going to have to drag you out of here?”

@Selim Faust

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Selim Text Color: #4d0f25
Aku Text Color: #614f6d

"In the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me." - William Shakespeare

Selim was numb, tired, and any momentum he may have had was syphoned out of him. He didn't want to move, to react, it felt like even such a small thing would expend too much energy. Blankly the boy stared at the ceiling, the slight wheezing of his lungs being the only thing filling his silence.

His mind idly played the film of his actions over his summer, one scene standing out. A dark room, two people asleep on a bed, the cold leather of a hilt in his hand, the loathing filling his chest, the sound of his mind's hesitation, the clatter of metal falling to the floor in defeat.

Another image played, warped and twisted from the fabrication that is imagination. The hilt of a blade being gently pulled from his limp grasp, the silhouette of a person plunging it down into the source of it all.

That one action he couldn't complete himself had been done for him, in a different way, one lacking bloodshed... but could he really say he was grateful for it? For the burden being released ever so slightly from his shoulder to be bared by another? Could he say with confidence those two simple words?

Thank you.

The question simmered in his mind, a conclusion slowly forming after the deep mulling of the inquiry. Silently, he answered himself with two letters... no. He couldn't, the words sat lodged in his scarred throat, the feeling, like hot metal burning at the back of it blocking their release from his cracked lips.

The deep ponderings that came after Kazuo's queries bubbled on his tongue, fading with the slow shutting of his eyes. The feeling he had been avoiding for so long with a terrified passion was crushing his weakened lungs, a constrictor feeling as if it were coiling around his torso, slowly snapping his brittle bones.

Helplessness.

He knew, he knew he could do nothing but watch his cousin, his older brother, the one person he held dearest slowly walk the death march. There would be no mercy, would Selim ever see him again? Would he ever glimpse that soft smile once more? That caring glint in steely eyes?

Ever calculating, his mind responded with those two letters once more, no.

Never?

Never.

His last interaction with his brother was down Diagon Alley, where he gazed down into the eyes of a cat, a final gift, and grasped the hand of the only one he thought of as true family.

'The last time.'

Something shifted in the sallow boy's eyes an unsettling dulling of light, pale yellow resting into the hues of a corpse. Slowly shifting, Selim grasped his mask again, red smearing on the white fabric, and he hollowly fitted it over his face, securing it.

The cool leather on his skin settled something in his chest as he morosely locked away the echoed emotions of terror, shock, desperation, helplessness. Shadows now hid his haunting eyes and unhealthy features once more, shrouded by the face of a rabbit.

A creature born to be preyed upon, a creature so very fitting for the boy who once held the confidence of a snake.

'It's the start of another unwanted chapter in your story.' Ronri remarked, no emotion reflected in their tone. They were logic, logic had no place with emotions.

Selim didn't respond to the voice, only staring blankly at the ceiling as Kioshi kneaded his thin chest. There was a delay in his thoughts, processing of questions, words, letters, grinding to a snail's pace.

He blinked, finally reacting to the boy looking down at him in hinted concern laced behind solid conviction.

Where would he be if he hadn't met this Jackal? Why had Aku made a contract with him? Why had he not seen where this choice would lead him, what path he'd end up on?

Hindsight was 20/20, and it was the pointless line of query that only led to burdensome regrets.

"... My masks... my possessions..." The fallen boy's gaze slowly travelled to the walls lined haphazardly with his creations. He didn't want to leave this behind, he wouldn't've put so much effort into his safe haven if he had known...

His fingers twitched slightly, exhaustion making his thoughts drag. How was this boy going to transport all of this? Leaving it all in the dungeon was asking for things to become damaged by the damp environment. His art needed constant upkeep.

He wouldn't leave without it... then again his limbs felt like led, he couldn't bring himself to move. His energy had been thoroughly sapped by the emotionally draining event that had just transpired.

Sluggishly his gaze shifted back to the Hufflepuff.

A passing thought meandered through his mindscape... Would he have to change his surname too?

His breathing paused momentarily, eyes kidding further as he slowly released his shallow intake of air.

Everything, it was all being stripped away from him. All that would remain were his few possessions from his clan. Every accomplishment he had made, every effort he had placed into his abilities, every approving nod, everything was being torn from him.

This family wouldn't know any of it, the severing of ties... was to something to be taken lightly.

His already fragile identity had been shattered, and would only be built up by those around him... no... that wasn't quite right.

Some things were his own, his masks, Kioshi, his fighting skills he had worked tirelessly on... those few things were things he had obtained with his own hands.

He wasn't sure though, he wasn't certain such a flimsy base would last under his new future. It was truly terrifying, the thought of completely losing one's identity struck fear into his very core. After all, this wasn't the first time he had been broken only to be built up once again.

He had hoped to never go through such a thing once more, but it was something that was forced upon one's self, rarely would anyone have control over it.

Because identities are such... fragile things. One little push and they fall into the abyss, never to be created again.

Kazuo wasn’t entirely sure Selim had even heard him. That Selim’s mind was far, far away with the way the boy was just laying there, staring up at nothing. Which, to be honest, was not outside the range of reactions Kazuo had imagined he might receive but to actually witness it was stranger than he thought it would be. He had watched Selim break down in January. Had seen Selim acting with what he could only call irrational logic in April. Now he was watching Selim have what appeared to be an existential crisis. It was mostly silence with occasional movement. As if the Slytherin couldn’t quite grasp the reality of what Kazuo had done.

As fascinating as it was to watch, it didn’t reveal what Kazuo wanted to know. The thoughts that must be racing through Selim’s head. The feelings he must be having. These were the things he wanted Selim to give voice to, the things he wished to understand yet he would be denied by Selim’s silence. When the older boy finally did break the silence, it was to voice concern for his work. The masks, artwork that had filled his time as he had hidden away from everyone and everything he could manage. That he had managed to remain down here as long as he had was a testament to his stealth. “Is everything here? I can’t get anything you left in the dorms but I can make sure this stuff gets packed up and brought back.” Kazuo glanced around the room, looking for crates or boxes that could be repurposed to holding the masks. He could appreciate the effort Selim had put into his masks and respect the older boy’s desire to not leave them behind. It might take some time but he would help Selim gather his things. Eyes landing on what looked like an old crate, he moved toward it, checking to see if it was solid enough and not rotting away like so much else in the dungeon.

“It will be good, I think. My parents can help you figure out what you need to move forward. Figure out what you want and they can help you make it happen. You don’t have to worry about anything or anyone else. Just yourself.” He didn’t know if the words would be a reassurance but they were a truth that he hoped Selim could embrace in time. He began to carefully take down the masks that had been displayed, placing them in the crate he had found. “You can display them in your room if you want. When we get there. That is if you plan on getting up? Or do I have to drag you out of here, after all?”

@Selim Faust

Selim Text Color: #4d0f25
Aku Text Color: #614f6d

"In the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me." - William Shakespeare

There was another stretch of silence before Selim processed and responded to the younger boy's inquiries. His mind was, indeed, in a faraway place, buzzing with a blend of exhaustion and emptiness.

"All here." The rabbit-masked boy finally replied, apparently the time it took to form a two-syllable answer was rather lengthy. Idly the boy wiggled his hand back into his puppet, which lifted slightly to speak.

"There aren't many crates, most were made into shelves." Aku's words were spaced oddly, even the puppet was struggling in light of the shattering of the Slytherin's perceived identity.

Indeed, once the two rooms that made up Selim's living space were examined, one would only see about four or five crates. All had already held various supplies, hardly enough to haul everything out of the workshop. Priorities would have to be made.

Selim's gaze slowly slid to the Hufflepuff, a few intrusive thoughts invading the static of his mind, effectively distracting him.

Why did the boy go this far? What were his motives? Why care about the happenings to some upperclassmen who had only really brought trouble?

He couldn't comprehend it, couldn't understand it. What motives would drive one to force a pureblood family into giving up their heir? Rarely would one go so far on such trivial feelings like 'kindness' and 'compassion'... right?

All he had witnessed from his kohai was clinical interest, that was the clearest feeling he had seen expressed on the boy's face. Was he wrong? Mistaken in his judgement? Or perhaps the boy was really doing all this out of morbid curiosity, or maybe... both.

Too much thinking, pressure built up behind his eyes, and he winced behind his mask, throwing his free arm over his face to block out the already dim light. A sharp intake of breath was impulsively taken in response to the sudden pain radiating from his jaw, or maybe his ear? His head?

Agitated lungs reacted, and he coughed, thin chest heaving for a short period until it calmed. A faint phantom pain blended with the soreness in his muscles; memories of suffocation in a small, dark space. The pain grew as memories flashed through his mindscape, the feeling of something burning in his throat as if he had been inhaling acid, pain, the inability to breath, the inability to escape. Helplessness.

His frame tensed, a claustrophobic feeling tightened around his chest but he pushed it away. That experience had been an unwelcome addition to the terrors he was forced to relive every night.

He had been trying to get over his phobia of sleep, but it was hardly working, especially with the new trauma Hogwarts seemed to graciously gift its dwellers every year. It took hours after laying in bed for his body to succumb to its constant exhaustion, and those hours were spent in deep-rooted dread.

Words spoken by his visitor broke through his spiralling train of thought, and he blinked as his foggy mind tried to grasp the tail-end of the comment he had nearly completely missed.

"Room..." his fingers twitched, a feeling took hold, of surreality deceiving his perception. It was as if he were watching this all happen to someone else. Dissonance coiled in his skull, taking up residence there like an occamy taking shelter in a cracked teapot.

He blinked, or he thought he did, everything felt so distant, so far away. He was just watching everything happen, like watching the scenery whiz by on the train to Hogwarts.

'Move?'

Eyes drifted away from the younger boy, eyelids sliding closed as if wishing for a nap, but that faint echo of dread resisted against the urge. A single word was muttered from the unreadable pureblood that had taken inhabitance on the cold stone floor.

"Tired..." Yes, tired, but he didn't want to sleep, he wanted the exhaustion to just slip away, to disappear without any effort on his part.

Of course, that wasn't how things worked, but he wished it did, then he wouldn't have to face his fears.

He didn't want to move, his limbs were no better than weighted balls n the ends of chains that had been latched onto him. Despite this, he attempted to stimulate his muscles, but it seemed the lack of motivation outweighed the attempt since only his fingers ended up twitching.

If he moved he'd have to deal with things, he'd be snapped out of the blissful nothingness to once more be faced with reality. Being dragged was more tempting at this point.

Slowly, he let his focus slip away, allowing his consciousness to float carelessly into the abyss of apathy. He rested his body, a form of meditation he had learned to get around his refusal to sleep like a normal human being. It made him appear asleep if he was in positions like the one he was in now, laying down on his back or side. Sometimes, though, he 'meditated' sitting up against a wall, bringing instability to the illusion of sleep.

His breathing pattern slowed into a shallow but steady rise and fall. The arm flung over his face no longer moved, slowly losing blood flow and tingling with pins and needles. Selim effectively no longer reacted to the world around him, immersing himself in a sanctuary of shadows.

By all appearances, it looked like he had simply fallen asleep then and there. That was better than dealing with what was going on around him now, he may not be able to sleep on the spot, but he could isolate himself from everything, even if only briefly. For a moment in time, he could reduce everything to apathy, and apathy was better than 'caring'.

What was the point of caring if it was all going to be snatched from him in the end anyway?