2 Oct 2024, 13:06
PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION
· · ─▪───────────── ·· ─────────────▪─ · ·
• PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION •“Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the Shadow." - The Hollowed Men─▪────────────────────────▪─
┏
He had put off replying to his mother for some time, and had today received yet another letter of correspondence. That was what it was; formal sounding and cold as they always were. It was as if Cadence Leveret had never left the Ministry, for her letters sure seemed to give such an impression. Her parchment was quality vellum, the ink a glistening deep violet that reminded him of gemstones; but her signature was more Ministerial-over-Motherly than any of the other aspects of her letter. ‘In anticipation of your hasty reply, Cadence Leveret née Norden.’ His callous treatment was not something he often caught up on, nor cared for, for he had been told he had it better than most, better than his own brothers, so it had to be true. It only bugged him now, seeing her formal follow up, because he knew that he had never not replied to his mother.
The hang ups of first year has carried over; what had been a summer of contemplation had become an autumn and winter full of the same. What had it all meant? What was going on at Yule? Perhaps this was one step further in his series of little rebellions, or maybe he just didn't have the stomach to tell her that he was stepping down from the duelling team, after making it in his first year above all the odds. In a period of quiet reflection, on what was a dingy spring day, he sat down at the writing desk that each member of the Merlin dormitory was awarded and began to pen a letter of his own. In a kind of tit-for-tat, his was entirely formal as if delivering a schedule of information, he was a junior Minister providing curtailed footnotes to the policy maker, the lawgiver. When he was done he signed it with his squiggle, closed out the parchment and sealed it with a small nub of molten wax, impressed with his familial ring.
He was of two minds to send the letter, firstly because of how the news that they received. But secondly because it meant that he, as denizen of the dungeon, would have to trek through the castle and make it to the owlery; and the sky promised rain. With a small sigh, get got up to tuck the letter inside the pocket of his winter jacket and scoop up his wand from his bedside table, preparing to leave.
Strix was a strange bird, that was what drew him to choosing her as his familiar. She had a darker edge and that was something that he admired, in all things. He never quite knew where he stood with her and oftentimes had been bitten during her feeds, or he went weeks at a time without seeing her. Avery's track to the owlery could all be for nothing, but it wasn't raining yet as he pushed the castle doors open and began on his trek through the grounds. The remnants of crimson hues lingered in a corner of the distant sky, the setting sun a melancholic sorrow for the world that awaits to sleep as darkness began to take root in longer shadows.
The journey was uneventful, and the only company that kept him and his thoughts was the crunch of stones beneath his feet or the pattering of his steps up the hill where the owlery awaited. When Avery arrived, he passed a couple of students on the stairs, averted his gaze and began to make his way up the tower. None of them were people he knew, and he was not here to make friends, at least; he wasn’t here to make friends with people. What were they doing here so late anyway? He hadn’t expected anyone to be here, but thankfully they were leaving and they were soon out of the vicinity. It was then that Avery took hold and produced a dead mouse that he had put in his jacket pocket earlier. He’d taken to catching the mice in the basements, with rudimentary trappings he baited with morsels of food he’d taken from the great hall at dinner times. It felt odd to hold such a thing in his palm, to have inflicted death upon this creature who served only a purpose of his designed; serving Avery’s ends. There was no other explanation. Avery had to do what he had to do. He would have to win his familiar and this was one of the only ways he knew how to speak animal, to appeal to their basest instincts and bank on their inferior intellect until he did it enough times to buy favour.
Many of the other birds of the owlery had begun to learn his face, second nature began to kick in and they were by now squeaking at him as if it was their lucky day. Avery has never been so kind, and he had little reason to begin today.
“Strix!” He called out, not even knowing if the bird had yet grown to know her name. After climbing a few levels, and batting at some of the birds that made for the treat in his hand, he found her. The great Indian eagle bird twisted her head whilst on her chosen perch, which was naturally in a position of power over the others. She was a bully of a bird, headstrong and powerful, and she had been expecting him.
wc: 964┗ ┛
Searching for his Owl. @Astra Norrick@Rebecca Lark
Last edited by Astra Norrick on 2 Oct 2024, 13:24, edited 1 time in total.
2 Oct 2024, 22:30
PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION
astra - #136323
@Avery Leveret ∆ @Rebecca Lark
As much as Astra enjoyed the company of her feline friend, some days she wished she had chosen an owl. There was no way a cat was getting a letter from the Scottish Highlands to the suburbs of London. They simply weren't built for that as the owls were, magical or not. And Astra just had to get a letter out to her parents, advising them that perhaps they should take her broom shopping for the summer, and that perhaps a Comet 180 was in order if she was to participate in Quidditch or Broom Racing as she intended to so fiercely. Even going so far as to point them to the gear all the other Seekers and Racers were using with a meticulous list, complete with prices! Oh she was a thorough little galleon-sucking parasite. And the sooner she planted the seedling idea in their heads the better.
The owlery was not a place for the easily excitable and bird-favorable Hermes, and thus he was left behind, likely napping in the sunshine around the courtyard.
She bound up the stairs two at a time, and though it didn't reduce time by much it certainly was fun, even if one from the mass descending did almost run into her and try to shove her into the wall. She simply shoved them back, a brief stare off ensuing before the other was persuaded to continue with her peers.
When she reached the owlery, she began the search for a school owl. She didn't really have a criteria: pick one that didn't look like it belonged to someone and pray you're right. The lower level birds were not interested in her, and neither were those in their roots. Which was alright, she suspected Terra, her most frequent flier, would be on the top level as usual.
Lo and behold, she was right! The majestic tawny creature cooed at her approach, and Astra held out her treat-filled hand for the very good girl.
"Strix!" Familiar voice. Astra looked behind her to see the lanky figure of Sir Avery Leveret. He held a rat aloft like a beacon of light, dozens of desperate owls vying for his treat with avian pleas of "notice me!"
Not unlike the majority of the younger student body, come to think of it. What a perfectly symbolic creature.
"Rat hunting's in fashion again?" she called, slipping Terra another treat. "I'm sure you'll excell this season." Though Astra did strive to be in the good graces of powerful people, or told herself she did, she couldn't resist poking fun at the nepo baby of the century. He'd shown her, inadvertently, at Yule that she had the ability to keep him guessing (how else could she have escaped that manor with her dignity intact?), and by God that was exactly what she was going to do. Shameless, killing your kind. Pureblood rats are in short supply.
The temptation was strong to go so far, but in rare form, Astra showed self-restraint. "Careful, your Victorian immune system may crumble if you keep it up." Safer, but still satisfying.
inventory : wand, owl treats, letter, crumpled sticky note with arbitrary notes on it
notes : astra does not have terrible presence at this time, this no effects of the ability are present
8 Oct 2024, 21:57
PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION
⋄ February 18th, 2024 | Owlery ⋄
⋄ Interactions: @Avery Leveret and @Astra Norrick | Mentions: None ⋄
The Sunday Scaries was such a silly name for the ravenous beast that had wrenched its claws into her stomach lining, tearing into flesh and muscle as it latched onto her, determined to build a home for itself in the cavernous ruins that was once the foundation of her digestive system. Perhaps that was too maudlin, or too grotesque. What she meant was that Sunday nights sucked absolute ass, and hardly qualified as part of the academic weekend experience. How long would it take before she stopped dreading the inevitable return to classes? The inevitable return to failure?
For how much of an outdoors-woman Bex was, her tolerance of any and all weather conditions other than sun was ludicrously low, and the tell-tale whispers of approaching rain on the horizon made her keen to take care of her business for the evening and curl up in front of the fireplace in her common room. There was nothing worse on this Earth, after all, than wet socks, and Bex very much wanted to avoid that sodden fate for herself.
Letters don't send themselves, though, and her grandmother had been somewhere between coddling and smothering in the weeks since the New Year's fiasco. She may be willing to dodge letters from her parents whenever it suited her fancy, but Grandma Vera was not the kind of woman you wanted to ignore. As such, trips to the owlery had become a fairly regular affair, though living in the Ravenclaw dorms did admittedly afford her the luxury of hardly needing to make any effort at all to reach them.
It would have been all around easier if she'd just gotten an owl of her own like her father had - the family owl, Owlie, was notoriously not on speaking terms with her ever since delivering her broom to her back in the Fall, and as such every letter delivered to and from her father was a fun new negotiation - but no, she'd gone and chosen a ferret, a creature which she was fairly certain couldn't fly, and which, in Crumb's specific case, may not actually be capable of complex thought at all. Unfortunately for her, her dad had put Owlie under express orders not to leave Hogwarts until she'd given the beast her replies to both Grandma Vera's letter and her father's letter, so rather than being able to utilize one of the many slow, but less homicidal school owls, who were four hundred percent less likely to bite her, she was forced to miserably climb her way up to the upper levels where Owlie preferred to roost.
Owlie, a regal, grey-feathered creature whose first and only sin was to have been named Owlie by a toddler, looked less than pleased at the sight of her master's daughter. This would likely be a long round of negotiations.
Bex was in the middle of threatening blackmail to a very unmoved bird when she was interrupted by not one, but two familiar voices. Peeking her head round the bend, she was greeted with the sight of one Avery Leveret, duellist and broom trick-flyer extraordinaire, holding a dead rat aloft as if it was a football trophy. He certainly seemed to be more popular with owls than she was, so perhaps there was something to be said for the vermin method. Astra Norrick, former foe turned tentative friend was also with him, and she gave the red-headed girl an uncertain wave as she approached, Owlie left behind at her perch to consider her actions.
"Rat hunting's always in fashion, in my opinion. The birds seem to think so, too." She remarked, watching as another owl attempted to try and sneak in and claim Strix's prize. "Hi, Astra. Hullo again, Avery, I haven't seen you in ages. I'm sorry to hear about your, er, 'Victorian constitution?' It doesn't affect your flying, does it? Might as well just let the rats take you at that point."
8 Oct 2024, 22:59
PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION
· · ─▪───────────── ·• PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION •“Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the Shadow." - The Hollowed Men─▪────────────────────────▪─
┏
Avery snapped his attention to the familiar cadence of Astra, a girl he had met at his family’s celebrations over the holiday period. Yuletide, a celebration of the changing of seasons; of renewal. It had been an expert display of PR from a family that was beginning to take steps back towards public life. He hadn’t yet uncovered why or where the destination was, but he knew something was going on in the small hustings at Moredell. Astra’s relations had obviously been important to his family, but like before, he hadn’t figured out why. Now wasn’t the time for that…
“You think? Well maybe you’re right. There’s been an awful lot of them slinking throughout the castle lately.” He quipped back, pointedly. It was important one didn’t miss a beat, he knew. She had proven a decent enough sparring partner, and so that was what this was. He didn’t hold malice for her in his tone, but his words had a bite to them that shrouded an edge he hoped she shared. It was common to people of their class to battle with words and wit, or rather; his class. He didn’t yet know that she was not of his status, but she had so far fooled him so, but the dance never let up once one donned that particular mask.
Her later comment was an odd joke. Avery wouldn’t have expected someone of proper birth and parentage to make such a bold and familiar gambit. Striking, he thought, but then that was what she was. Her head of flame commanded attention, practically glowing when in a crowd; and it had meant that she was quick to action and anger, to speak out of turn. His response was simple, a subtle raising of his brow and a single hum of feigned amusement escaped his thin lips.
For all of a few seconds, he scrutinised her completely with his incisive and penetrating gaze. Whatever he was thinking never made it to the surface of his face, and the moment was all too brief for it to mean anything; surely? An over-eager bird had swooped for the mouse in his hand, pulling his attention away as he swiped and dodged the bird’s path. Strix’s blood red gaze followed Avery’s avian assailant, and she poised herself to lunge; a sign that she had either become protective of him, or learned to expect that any food he carried was hers and hers alone. She was a terrifying bird not only in nature, but in manner too. Her piercing shriek cut through the noise in warning, pushing out her brown breast that had paint strokes of black throughout and stretching her wings in admonition, and in that silence, Avery found Rebecca.
Avery couldn’t help but smirk then, chiefly because anyone could see that such a display impressed him; that was an animal worthy of being his familiar and secondly because Rebecca had joined the conversation on his side. One to watch.
“See.” He reaffirmed to Astra, finally having arrived at a ledge where he frequently fed Strix from.
“Fortunately not, Miss Lark.” Avery said with the hint of a smile. “Too long, yes, though I saw Astra at Moredell over Christmas. That was a good get together. - It was before Christmas break yes? Back before I lost my summer tan to the cold.” Avery joked to Bex, sending a look to Astra as if to rope her into a three-pronged catch-up. Avery was being social even after telling himself he would try not to, and it was all because he got a slight rush from feeding his bird.
wc: 715┗ ┛
Feeding his Owl. @Astra Norrick @Rebecca Lark
Last edited by Avery Leveret on 25 Oct 2024, 10:46, edited 1 time in total.
12 Oct 2024, 03:53
PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION
astra - #136323
@Avery Leveret ∆ @Rebecca Lark
"Of course," she purred in response to his jab at her. So it began. Her gaze flicked to Terra almost as if a secret was being shared between the two. "It isn't hard to catch a rat when you're positively drowning with them. Even the lowliest of marksmen can hit the side of the barn." She didn't particularly know where she was going with that, it certainly wasn't her best, but he hadn't given her much to work with and while she wasn't above petty personal insults it seemed too pedestrian to say even YOU could hit the side of the barn. As if she were compensating for something.
Which, she was, but that was something for her to know and him to never find out.
Terra took the letter from her, and she whispered to the golden avian her instructions. She watched the majestic bird take off, ignoring the eyes boring holes into her in study. Like a surgeon's scalpel. Sharp, penetrating, trying to lay her insides bare. Perhaps a dissection was more apt to describe.
"Strix... A bit redundant, don't you think?" she questioned, turning from the window to the boy, crossing her arms over her chest. "Genus of owl, isn't it?" However, she was entirely deserving of the name, as she split the air with a shriek and feigning a lunge towards the other owl with murder on her mind. Proud, cold, the queen of the roost. Mildly terrifying like the striges of myth. Maybe that's why he named her the way he did. "Redundant, but apt. She's beautiful."
Astra returned Bex's wave with equal amounts of uncertainty. However ill-fated their relationship had first been, the two had entered a truce, uneasy, but there. Quidditch was a good catalyst for friendship.
"As long as there are rats to be hunted, I suppose you're right," she relented with a non-committal shrug. "Hullo, Bex. Good to see you." Avery, with a tan? Hard to imagine. The boy was pale enough one could almost believe the Chronicles of Narnia were right and eternal winter existed. "Are you certain there was anything to fade?" Her tone was light, absent of the edge it would hold under the jabs she had made previously. "I would've never thought you a flier, Avery. More of a both feet on the ground sort of man. Is he any good, Bex?" Of course Avery would say he was good, that's what everyone, but especially people like him, did. Bex, Astra had learned, could be very bluntly honest, even if it was her opinion she was speaking as the truth. Like before they made nice and Bex apparently thought Astra was the spawn of some sort of devil sent to antagonize her. At least, that's how she had acted.
But that was all behind them now! And it turned out Bex was pretty cool, underneath the stick in the mud stuff like anti-bribery.
inventory : wand, crumpled sticky note with arbitrary notes on it
notes : astra does not have terrible presence at this time, thus no effects of the ability are present
24 Oct 2024, 00:18
PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION
⋄ February 18th, 2024 | Owlery ⋄
⋄ Interactions: @Avery Leveret and @Astra Norrick | Mentions: None ⋄
𝓐very's Leveret's owl was a striking creature in appearance and personality both. While her feather pattern was admittedly beautiful - a cascading mix of black, white, and brown, they reminded her a bit of the marble countertops in her paternal grandparents' kitchen - it was her eyes that drew Bex in, a startling red that somehow managed to be both repelling and fascinating in equal measure. It was clear within a moment of meeting her that this visage was no clever subterfuge: as another owl dared to approach her master, she let out a shriek so piercing that Bex was shocked that the windows didn't all shatter instantaneously, not from the sound but rather from Strix's sheer force of will.
It was clear from the expression on Avery's face that he was in full support of her efforts, and she couldn't blame him. While Owlie was also in possession of a personality that could be politely refered to as assertive, all her vitriol seemed to be reserved for Bex and Bex alone, leading to Bex's recent vehement dislike of the bird in return. Perhaps Owlie was just getting curmudgeonly in her old age, but Bex wasn't known for her gracious and forgiving nature. She far preferred Strix's dynamic personality, as at least hers was honest. She found she could understand and relate to the bird's blunt assertion of her boundaries, and, though you'd never get her to admit it, the owl's visceral temper.
"She's beautiful." Astra had said. Bex certainly agreed with the sentiment.
Her relationship with Astra was tentative, a flower bulb that had been newly planted into rocky, uncertain earth, and only time would tell whether or not it would be able to take root, or merely shrivel away into a husk of mislaid potential. She hoped it would take. Bex's social card was, admittedly, far from overflowing, and despite her previous misconceptions of the girl, she seemed interesting, and, more importantly, fun.
"Oh, there will always be rats at Hogwarts, I'd assume. You don't have to look too hard to find them." While it would be easy to take an implied double meaning from Bex's words, you'd be giving her more credit than was due. She'd meant it exactly as she'd said it: they were in the Scottish highlands, where the rodents outnumbered them rather drastically. Their supply was certainly not in any danger of running dry in the next century or so.
It seemed that Avery's implied sickly-waif disease was no more than a jest on Astra's part. That was good, she supposed, though she still thought it likely that he had some sort of advanced vitamin D deficiency. She could only hope that he was taking supplements to stave off the worst effects, or at the very least, a daily multivitamin. "I'm glad to hear it. I like you, but not enough to take it easy on you in the air."
"Moredell?" She asked, sounding the word out. It reminded her vaguely of a mushroom, for some reason. "I don't think I've heard of that, sorry. Was it somewhere you both went on vacation?"
She was surprised that Astra didn't already know how good of a flier Avery was; the two of them seemed to be familiar with each other, or, at least, certainly knew each other better than she knew either of them. Perhaps he didn't fly as much as she'd have assumed from their first meeting.
"One of the best, I'd say." Bex replied sincerely. "At least at our age level, not sure he'd fair as well against the Arrows, but he's got some tricks up his sleeve. Maybe he'd surprise us." The adrenaline rush of the boy's signature dives was the only thing that had ever made her feel an ounce of regret for being a beater rather than a seeker. "He really is quite good, though. Makes me rather vexed that he chose Duelling over Quidditch, though I 'spose that's good for Ravenclaw."
"I'm guessing you're both up here to send letters as well? Unless you both just really enjoy the smell of owl. I assume the pretty one with the strong lungs is Avery's. Do you have an owl of your own, Astra? I've just got a ferret, so I'm sending my letters off with my dad's owl, she's 'round that way." Bex said, pointing somewhere in the vicinity of Owlie's general direction.
Morel, she realized. She'd been thinking of a morel. Perhaps Moredell was some sort of giant mushroom. A girl could dream.
25 Oct 2024, 10:47
PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION
· · ─▪───────────── ·• PENUMBRAL & PRECURSORY PROPHETIZATION •“Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the Shadow." - The Hollowed Men─▪────────────────────────▪─
┏
“You think I would name my owl, a kind of owl? - Unfortunately I’m not that droll. Stirges or Strixes were birds of myth, connected to omens and some grim folklore. She just has that presence, you know. Strix had taken his entire attention then, as she flew over from her perch to a large stone window-sill which served as both an access for birds flying into and out of the owlery, and a view out to the grounds and the Forbidden Forest a short distance away. By now, the sun had been smothered in dark clouds, as it took to her last leg over the horizon; soon to be dusk. Strix had taken the position to get close to Avery, who hadn’t removed his eyes from the bird as they spoke of her. She was beautiful as Astra described, captivating; and he was almost envious of that presence.
Bex spoke then, pulling his attention from the bird and window, and the mythical vampiric monster-bird he was about to feed. It was unwise to turn his gaze from the bird, but Bex had insinuated that the pair had holidayed together and he had to shut that down, to smother it before gossip took root.
“Moredell is the name of my home, we held a kind of wizarding Christmas party this year. Miss Norrick and her Uncle were lucky to land the invite list.” He smirked across to Astra then, a jab of his own that he hadn’t meant too much by. When the conversation turned to his flying, he suddenly became modest, not wanting to speak of it; especially when Rebecca questioned why he had taken to duelling and not quidditch. With a nonchalant shrug, he elected not to comment and to let the pair make up their minds about him, but he just had to comment when Rebecca mentioned what was presumably the quidditch team that she supported. “I’m sure you meant, the Falcons. - League will be ours this summer, you watch!” He grinned in challenge; under different circumstances he would have winked at Astra’s praise but that’d surely make the gossip-mill churn; he didn’t know how trustworthy either of these two were, especially since he had nothing over either of them.
He went quiet when the conversation moved on to why they were all here. His mind went back to the letter he had written to his mother, that he was here for.
“I uh- I’m telling my family I’m leaving the duelling team actually.” He said as he looked to the owl then, finally opening his palm for Strix to take her prize, after she diligently cast her vermillion gaze around for any would-be scavengers or threats. For whatever reason, he felt as if he could tell them. It was likely a miss-step, a mistake in his usual planned footing, but he couldn’t think of much fall-out from it. After all, he was going to be telling his mother with the very letter he was about to send. It was likely the precursor to her weighty and scathing response, who only a few months ago told him to ‘get better’. He remembered that moment distinctly, how his throat closed over; too stunned to speak. It was the same day that he and Barrow had floo’d to Diagon Alley for some general shopping, and he had been forced to take on a familiar after a rather flippant and unwise comment to Granny about how he didn’t really like transfiguration all too much.
“I’m sure a particularly talented ferret could carry a letter or two…” Avery hummed, turning his attention from Strix then, from the window, and that was his third mistake.
In the brief moment that he’d taken to break his perfectly crafted porcelain exterior, to show a glimpse of humour through the cracks of his persona that he often wielded as a shield, he took his eyes from Strix, to look back at Astra and Rebecca, and in that moment the owlery window erupted into chaos.
Calamity sent all of the birds into a panic, as Strix shrieked a shrill cry that could split a rock. As she was only a foot or so from Avery, he winced in pain and reached to his ears. The pair he’d been speaking to however, would have made sense of the situation before he did. A large black bird had lurched into the window, likely to get a picking of the guts and viscera that Strix had created from the mouse across the sill; but in doing so had provoked an attack. It was not fleeting or over in a warning. Both birds were locked in a vicious series of cries, caws, pecks and scratches. Feathers were being pulled from both birds as the attack went on; the black bird’s silky sheen coat of feathers was swiftly being ruined as though a frayed blanket or moth-eaten curtain. Strix’s large talons were sharp, and much larger than anything the black bird brought to the fight; and she was ruthless in defence of herself.
The owlery had erupted in cries, shrieks and flight as other birds panicked and fled their nests.
wc: 963┗ ┛
Momentarily stunned by an ear-piercing owl-cry. @Astra Norrick @Rebecca Lark