Closed Polite Presences PV Avery Leveret

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────── 2024. 10. 19. | @Avery Leveret.... .

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xxxxxxxIn the late afternoon, golden sunlight filtered through the large, decorated windows of the rehearsal room, spilling onto the sun-warmed stone. The space itself was as silent as the grave, a rare state considering its usual popularity among the artistically inclined students of Hogwarts. However, it wasn't completely empty—one student remained, alone in the stillness. Evpraksiya enjoyed playing the piano, not as much as her first love, the violin of course. But as the second instrument she'd learned, it held a hard-won place in her heart. The Slytherin hadn't had a chance to trace the ivory keys lately so she decided to come to the Rehearsal room, dust motes idly drifting through the air during the weekend when normally she'd be in the library or sneaking off to that one bookstore in Hogesmede. Without further ado, the girl began playing the starting notes of Prelude in E Minor (Op. 28 No. 4) by Frédéric Chopin and allowed the music to whisk her away into thoughts of time long past. Once upon a time, there was a little sister. She was not a well-behaved (if not good) child like the eldest sister. Nor was she a wild (but oh so kind) child like the second. Hers was a childhood full of possession and obsession, of grabbing at all the most beautiful things until her knuckles grew white and her nanny, concerned. She obsessed over what was hers and drew delight from having hers near her. Her nanny, she decided very early on, was hers and the nanny as indulgent and loving as she was, never had a reason to correct the girl. Her sisters, she decided next, were also hers. The eldest thought this infant amusing to attempt to claim her and so let her have her fantasies. The second decided she was harmless and wanted desperately to protect her from becoming empty as the eldest, nodded along. They found no fault in her declaring them hers because wasn't that clear? They were family after all, and as endearing as the little girl's actions were, it was nothing to be concerned about. But. The girl learnt quickly, that her parents weren't hers. They'd leave for long periods of time and leave her for longer when she babbled at them to stay or clutched too tightly at their arms in ways infants weren't meant to. She wanted so badly to be one of those pretty little dolls her father gifted her. Resplendent locks of gold greedily hoarding the sunlight within their beautiful hair. Eyes always beautifully framed by their long long lashes and staring forward, no unnatural shades more eldritch than eyes should be, and always cerulean as her sisters. The girl loved those dolls. She treasured them and cradled them close to her until the hot bitter-sour viscous bile that sat at the back of her throat every time she stared at those lovely, beautiful, dolls began to suffocate her. She did not mean to be cruel. But that did not mean she was kind. The little girl did not mean to tear them apart but their delicate visage was too much for the little thing and she tore them all limb from limb until the dolls she treasured so much were not so lovely she couldn't bear her ugliness in comparison. Until they no longer looked like little cherubs with their dismembered arms and legs but instead just doll corpses as they were. So the girl created her own image, from ribbons and lace and every delicate thing she knew. She tucked away her beastly snarls, her pudgy fists crushing delicate butterflies in their grip, traded in her ugly desperation for coy smiles and batted eyelashes asking, "Please stay a little longer?" "Please give me that doll?" "Please walk with me?" The beast was no longer a beast without all her edges. She was now sweet as a peach and lovely as one of her windowsill dolls. And it worked. Her fingers no longer twitched whenever her father came home with a new doll for her to place on her windowsill and she was able to sit alongside them. Placidly content to watch the days go by. The little girl had her nanny, her sisters, and when they came home, her parents. But her parents would come visit her longer now. They wouldn't leave as quickly now that she did not clutch at their clothes and act as a big boot when they tried to leave. They stayed even longer when the girl told them she had something to show them and yet even longer when the presented thing in question was impressive. (She was still the beast who cried when the beautiful butterflies she held too tightly died beautiful deaths in her lovely peach hands and still the doll that peered demurely behind long aureate eyelashes at fights between classmates and hid small frowns when they were forced apart.) (They were not mutually exclusive but for the time being, they could be separate.) (But just because you did not mean to be cruel, does not mean you were kind) Evpraksiya allowed the final notes to linger in the air, resounding off the walls of the empty space as she let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. Hands gingerly lifting off the black and white keys.

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