Still Waters Run Deep PV LeStrange Closed

The Black Lake, or Great Lake, has coincided with Thomas' journey over the last two years. An underlying setting for his story, offering some of his most transformative moments. Initially a place he sought for clarity and reflection, now a place of detriment. The feeble attempts to distance himself from his past this semester were always countered with the visual of the waters. A pit of misery that stains on sight.

It was not enough to entirely deter his presence. Like any coward, he would not walk towards a source of pain. Thomas has yet to learn this crucial lesson, that embracing your own brand of horror was the only way you shall overcome. It was easier to run at the first sign of discontent, but running is only a temporary solution.

It took a particular mood to bring the boy back to these rocky shores willingly. Today's reason was still to be determined, but the boy's transitional role in this school undoubtedly played a part. From hag toy, to representative of house Slytherin. An additional position of influence on the school's paper, a position that he provides unique value to. Thomas has seen things that could sway public opinion, but the fallout from these decisions could only lead him back down a rabbit hole of inner turmoil.

The boy sat still on the rock near the shoreline, journal in hand, contemplating the many memories--most of horror. Though down the line, occasional splashes of water interfered with his focus. It was easy to detect on a day of still wind and littling activity. The lake was reliable in that respect, a place of solitude.

Blue eyes rose from his page, scanning down the shoreline. Not far off, a figure appeared to be fishing for minnows with a twig of that size. The boy would approach to realize it was in fact not a twig, but a wand. Stopping a few feet to her rear, he announced himself in a soft tone. "You may need a sharper stick if you expect to catch something." If she looked back towards him, a corner of his mouth would tilt up in slight amusement.

The girl did, indeed, turn to look back at the source of the voice, blinking at the sight of the boy's tilted half-smile. Then she glanced back at her water-dipped wand.

"Thanks for the advice, but there are other ways of catching things," she murmured in a quiet voice, not looking at the Slytherin as she spoke. "If I'm bothering you, go ahead and tell me. Or have I broken a rule?" When she'd turned to regard him briefly, the gleam of his prefect badge had not escaped her notice.

She picked up another rock with her free hand and threw it into the water to watch it splash and sink like the others. Then she draped her arms across the top of her knees and put her chin on them. By this time, her trailing sleeves were damp with mud and lake water, and she was shivering harder than ever, but she strove to clamp down on her chattering teeth when she spoke.

"I wonder if we could swim down deep enough to find the windows to the Slytherin rooms and make faces at them through the glass..." Flicking her wand tip up from the water, she flung out her arm as if to spray the young man with some of its droplets. "I'm Tymiko Waters. What's your name?"

The girl remained focused on these still waters, indifferent to the Slytherin’s tongue in cheek introduction. “So is that what you’re here for? To catch things?” The girl turned to face him, revealing a set of glowing blue hues. When scanning the contents of her black robes, his eyes narrowed at the absence of a house crest. The boy shrugged dismissively at the insinuation she was a bother, or a rule breaker, instead addressing his curiosity. “A bit late in the year to be without a house.” His tone light yet curious, eyes flickering over to the waters. “Or is this your home?”

If this was the case Thomas would be the last to dish out judgement, there was a time he dwelled near the lake shores, longing to escape. Not only was the girl appearing indifferent to his company, but also to the physical effects of her surroundings. Denoted by the chilled splotches of muddy water that transferred from her sleeves to knees. The relatability only increased, her mind seemingly elsewhere, subduing the effects of her surroundings.

Where most Slytherins may take offense, Thomas would remain neutral. Slytherin was not a cohesive unit. There was no shortage of house pride, but to each their own. The snakes were more likely to tear each other down before engaging their adversaries. Though with a newfound badge, a sense of responsibility grew to defend his house in a moment like this. “Not all of us are alike.” After all, if Thomas was able to choose his house, he would not don the black and green.

Instead of standing awkwardly behind the girl, Thomas opted to take a seat a few steps to her side on a mostly dry and rocky patch, elevated slightly above the looming lake shores. The girl turned to him, pulling her wand from the waters to send idle drops his way. Whether intentional or not, Thomas was mostly unaffected as they exchanged names. “Thomas Lestrange.” He would attempt to catch her eyes if she looked his way, issuing a short nod.

Maybe it was just her surname, or the way she seemed naturally drawn to the waters, but when Thomas looked at her he felt a sense of familiarity, a comforting thought indeed.

"Maybe," the girl answered, a smile in her voice when she responded to his inquiry about why she was there. When he mentioned being without a house, she tipped her chin curiously, then followed his gaze to the lake after asking about the place being her home. Her shivers and barely-suppressed teeth-chattering were briefly interrupted by a steady stream of giggles, but that was all she seemed to have for him by way of reply. As he seemed to have few verbal responses to her questions, so too did she for his.

When he spoke again, though, he drew her curious attention once more. "All of...'us'?" she repeated, confusion raising the pitch of her words into the shape of a question. She wasn't sure who 'us' referred to, much less what he was thinking of when he said they were not alike. Not alike how? Did he mean prefects? Boys? Slytherins? Students? Or something else?

Then the mention of her not having a 'house' came to mind and she was able to put two and two together, large eyes widening even rounder. "Oh. You mean Slytherins?" Grinning at him, she sat up and slowly, with fingers stiff from shaking from the cold, began to tug off her damp, dirty robe as quickly as she could. "How do you know I'm not one too?"

Under her robes and cloak was a simple white dress shirt, black tie, and black pants, though the shirt was still somewhat stained and a little translucent with moisture from the wet, chilly air. It clung to her small frame, making her look somewhat more pitiful and small than she'd been without the large black cloak she shrugged off. Folding the cloth into an almost careless bundle, she stuffed it under one arm and hurried toward Thomas, not hesitating for an instant.

Since he had taken a few steps closer to sit by her, the journey was not far at all, and she was soon sweeping herself under his own cloak without invitation or permission like a little bird instinctively seeking shelter under the wing of a larger one. Her unnatural lack of qualms was evident in the way she made herself entirely at home with her body huddled right up against his for warmth. He certainly caught her eye by then, her grin suddenly mischievous, as if challenging him to protest.

"Thomas," she repeated casually. "Is that what you go by? I go by Ty."

The girl across Thomas carried herself with grace of indifference. A common display for Thomas himself, to approach each interaction in neutrality unless provoked. Not to say the boy did not have enemies that would be treated as such. The way conflict seemed to follow Thomas, outsiders may form the assumption that Thomas was a firestarter, looking to engage anyone on sight. In truth, the boy's chief opposition was himself. Self-absorbed and pitying, and those who interfered with this state of mind would suffer the consequences.

The girl's fit of giggles left Thomas with an idle stare in her direction. Intermittent shivers interrupted her amusement, though Thomas would make no effort to mend this. Humans are conditioned to solve even the slightest hint of discomfort, a spoiling cycle that can stagnate growth. It's good to be uncomfortable, to suffer. "Cold?" Thomas acknowledged her status, but addressed it no further.

As she removed her crestless robes, she posed a question instead of an answer. "Most Slytherins' are prideful. You don't possess this quality?" The boy's lip curled into a soft smirk, dry sarcasm staining his last few words. "You removed your house crests, or brought along robes without one. You don't believe in houses, or you're not proud of the one you were given." Thomas' blue eyes narrowed as he spoke, his analysis may have appeared sharp, but still locked within the confines of a box.

"Unless you don't believe in houses. I'm much the same, they are a construct." A belief Thomas has carried, sourced in his opposition to follow his father's footsteps into Slytherin. Each individual was unique, and the house qualities were not shared across the board. "Thomas is fine." He added with a short nod at her name in return. He's not heard of a Ty in Slytherin, and the boy liked to believe he knew of most in his house. Perhaps he was onto something.

@Kit Paine

"What?! Since when are most Slytherins considered more prideful than any other house?" Ty asked with a dubious grin. "I didn't hear of that as a house trait. No more than the Gryffindors, anyway. As for house crests, these robes were plain to begin with." She shrugged and looked back out toward the water.

"I don't like being judged or defined by houses. It's not necessarily that I'm not proud of mine - just that there's more to me than that and I worry that if someone sees and defines me by my house, they won't be able to see beyond it." The noirette glanced back up at him. "But if you must know, the common room I have access to is the one in the eagles' tower."

Then, smiling again, she reached out to tap the tip of his nose. "How about you, then? You said you're not all alike, suggesting that you don't like being lumped in with the rest of your house, yet you claim that most Slytherins are prideful? Are you one of those, then?" Ty wanted to know. She pondered what he said about houses being a construct, looking thoughtful, then said, "Maybe they're constructs, but I'd like to think there might be some truth to them. Do you not believe in them at all?"

She nodded when he told her that addressing him as 'Thomas' was fine, smirking as he didn't seem to mind or at least react in the least to her cozying up to him under the shelter of his robes. "I think they have to do with what we value the most rather than what qualities and traits we have. I think that's the largest misconception with houses. Do you not value the traits of your house?"

A valid question to ask, but close encounters with a lad named Dmitri Jones---Lestrange's dormmate and constant annoyance-- could materialize the belief it was a trademark trait of a snake. "I've found Slytherin's tend to bask in their successes more than most, and the last to accept responsibility for failure." Thomas paused for several moments, raising a finger in his left hand to chime in with a follow up statement. "But you're right, that could apply to anyone...in any house." Opting to avoid contradictions as a housist, remaining firm that any individual could be overly prideful...regardless of where a drunk hat places them.

The girl's reluctance to simply state her house left Thomas' eyes narrowing in a stare, her common room access may have implied she to be a Ravenclaw. Though the avoidance of an outright claim fueled his interest. Her choice of wording peculiar, leading Thomas to suspect she was a manipulator, or dishonest.

With an outreached hand, she turned the questions back towards him with a tap of his nose. Initiating a sharp lean in the opposite direction in attempt to evade her touch, though the girl possessed a swift hand and unsuspecting Thomas. "Uh--don't do that again." He spat out with a glare, visibly annoyed as per usual when receiving uninvited contact from another. "Lumping people together in a house undermines the fact that every individual is unique, which they are." As Thomas saw it, generalizations were of the same evil making as prejudice.

Almost as if undetected(sorry I overlooked this last post), the girl had created a space underneath the boy's robes, leaving Thomas to swiftly retreat to safe distance. Taking several steps away with a distasteful glare. "Fancy a swim?" He spoke sternly, motioning towards the waters as he issued a threat. Surely would not be the first or last person he's tossed into the lake.

After hoping he's made his aversion to physical contact clear, Thomas would gently huff, straightening his robes and returning to the discussion. "Perhaps. And what is it you value the most?"