Bump In The Night PV Closed

Interacting With: @Violet Carrington | Hex: #143314

Leonard stood firmly upon his position on rules, just as he did with everything. There was no force in the planes of existence that could push him off his self-constructed podium of opinions he viewed as facts, facts he viewed as the universal guidelines for living. It wasn't often he had to remind himself of the instructions he'd written, but the longer he spent in his academy of arson and magical mischief, it seemed the spirit of a particularly disobedient phantom had started to take control of him. Evidently, that phantom also let objects that were nearly reaching more importance than pure gold slip away from his memory, considering the predicament he'd found himself in.

It also wasn't often the Slytherin had to take on a new role in the horror-drama-coming-of-age film that was his life, employing tactics used only by, as taken verbatim from his oldest journal, nitwits and his father. Ironically, it was his father's own logbook of lessons learned that had caused the boy to switch between a tired academic to an even more tired person who needed to return to the Owlery much past the designated time for sleeping.

He didn't exactly have a master plan developed over several decades for the situation, no brilliant scheme plotted in his dark cave of madness and brooding while a Stygian storm brewed outside. After a minute or two of being petrified in a state of perpetual panic, he did manage to plan a bit of his late-night venture. There weren't many steps to the procedure, just alternating between silently walking and hiding behind a suit of armor if any silhouettes were to appear. Obtrusions were to be expected at least once, and to be eliminated.

Sometimes, the obtrusion's definition would be both that of a thing that jutted out and a person who had no place being there. By sometimes, apparently the universe meant whenever it was a bad time for Leonard.

"What are you doing here?" The words were said in a less than kind manner despite their low volume, the type that would make one mistake the girl for a figure from his past that he'd sworn revenge upon. Really, she was nothing more than an unfortunate soul that happened to have less-than-average foot-eye coordination, but the difference between the two had become blurred. All he knew in that moment was his need to get to the Owlery, and that this godforsaken being was in his way. "And keep quiet, would you?"

The last statement was less a question, far from something meant as a well-intentioned plea for her to step aside and go back to whichever dormitory had the punishment of keeping her there. It was a warning, one that would prelude something much worse than the situation they'd found themselves in, deliberate or not.

@Leonard Oaksworth

"What are you doing here?", Violet heard the unfortunate student say, in a unkind manner. While she got up, she pondered what in the actual world she was doing there now. Her first thought was to reply that she wasn't supposed to be here, and she really wasn't, but that would only give the older kid an advantage of reporting her to a professor or her head of house. If they were both lost togheter, they could just swear to each other that they wouldn't tell anyone and go on and about their lifes, as thought nothing had happened.

She couldn't see anything in the darkness of the Great Hall, so she was already thinking about taking out her wand. She was quite scared of what had just happened, since the voice wasn't familiar to her, she suspected the boy to be a prefect. The only thing she could do now was reply to his question, thought she didn't know if he awaited an answer. "I never wanted to be here!" she said in a harsh whisper. "I think I got lost..." no, she wasn't lost. Violet didn't want to admit that she just broke a rule, neither she wanted this person to get her into trouble. But it was obvious that they both weren't supposed to be there. "What are you doing here tho? I mean, aren't you supposed to be in the common room or something." she said grumpily, asking him the same question as he had asked her before.

Vi did not reply when the boy told her to keep quiet. She didn't like to be controlled and told what to do, but she did think that it was better to keep quiet this time. Violet started to debate in with her thoughts if she should just leave the boy be and go to her common room or help him out. The nicest option was to just leave, however the first year did not know exacly where her dormitory was, and was pretty scared of being caught, so she just stayed there and didn't move. The second option seemed too kind and not inside her personality, so she decided to just listen to what he had to say, even if she didn't really think that he would reply the her question.

Interacting With: @Violet Carrington | Hex: #143314

It was no shocking, scandalous, starkly stunning and stupefying secret that Leonard Oaksworth desperately needed more patience when it came to people. For all the fastidiousness he had when it came to taking on the appearance of the ancient stoics, possessing their natural placidity being a long-term goal of his very un-placid self, tolerating disturbances was not a descriptor generally found in his extensive repertoire of things he could do without immediately dissolving into a furious pile of animated ashes dedicated to hunting down the object of his ire to the ends of the universe, and he hadn’t ever considered it to be something of the working priorities. After all, what could patience possibly help him with? Not doing anything? Procrastinating even more than he already did most of the time, petrified in place with fears of everything and anything? The only way it could benefit him would be in the instances where simply staring at the problem until it went couldn’t do the trick with annoyances, and those instances were very much scarce in a world where drilling holes through someone’s eyes with one’s own sphere of vision was considered socially strange. In the utterly startling swift steal of fate that happened just about every time the boy tried to do anything that wasn’t cry, study, or cry whilst doing said studying, however, the lack of lighting in the area made it hard to glare at the thing in his way until it scurried away as though it were but a rat. In spite of that, he could use the rapidly dying flashlight of logic to see that perhaps it was lucky the thing in question hadn’t the physicalities and exact mentality of a rodent, for her making a mad scamper over to the nearest hiding space didn’t bode well for his future. Then again, neither did them staying in conversation. How horrible the world was, with its consequences and its citizens.

It wasn’t as though he’d fancied himself completely untouchable, invincible to all plausible penalties of his rule-rejecting bouts. Close to it, certainly, with pride the entire Panthera genus would envy, but Leonard was nothing if not constantly having to listen to a voice in his head shouting everything that could go wrong in any given situation. He’d possessed a general idea of the perils and pitfalls should he have encountered any patrolling prefects, peering personnel or peeking peers on a near-midnight stroll, but he figured that as long as he could reveal information about the prefect, person, or peer in question and threaten them with it, he could survive until he got to the Owlery and ran back over to his dormitory after. What he hadn’t considered thoroughly enough, it seemed, was how he could get that information should the prefect, person, or peer be as unwilling to hand the verbal weapons to him on an ornate silver platter with a passive personality on the side. No matter, that wasn’t a current working priority either. Time was of the essence, and the longer he and the girl-rodent spent talking and staying right there for the scolding, time became but the chapter prior to his death.

The Great Hall had begun to get the ‘great’ on its name plate tarnished, since nothing with this entity present could ever be considered great until the entire castle took a cleansing ceremony lasting at least two and a half decades. It took all his restraint to not start playing the tapes of shrill screeching when she answered his first question with the obvious, all his self-discipline to not rant on about how of course she didn’t want to be here, the areas of detention-warranting weren’t exactly popular tourist destinations in the dead of night. Instead, a small, hushed scoff escaped as his expression morphed into mostly unseen incredulousness. It was like if someone drowning started rambling about how they didn’t want to be under water, or if someone being buried alive remarked that they weren’t very partial to dirt being smashed all over their face. Still, he tried to focus himself, resolving to roll his eyes at any time she spoke to avoid being drowned, buried alive, and then put into detention.

“I’m sorry, how did you get lost for so long that the witching hour is closer than our last dinner?” He couldn’t resist at least one bitter, muted jab, though. “Spare me the pain of having to listen to these flimsy lies, at least.” The sentence itself was a bit of a flimsy lie, really, by reason of him not being completely sure whether or not the poor schoolgirl was waxing deceit, but he’d try and get as much intimidation in his words as possible.

He started to list his options in silence upon, all of the very few paths he could pave that wouldn’t lead to a significantly tougher predicament being scrawled frantically as more and more of his mind was consumed by. After a moment, he decided on a bit of a dangerous tactic, figuring it should be worth it if it reached fruition.

“Who said I’d be in the common room?” He put emphasis on the ‘common’ part of the rhetorical question, making effort to keep his tone even. Not his fault if that implied anything. “I’m here to retrieve a very important item, and I won’t be telling you anything more than that.”

He took a glance at the nearest corridor, not seeing any imposing figures just yet. In a more tense tone than his last batch of slightly rude syllables, he gestured for his unwanted companion to go and move. “You should get going, now, you really should.”