8 Dec 2024, 13:40
Wanna play?
From May until the start of Summer Break, Finnegan had insisted on crowded routes to and from his dormitory, the Spring Ball's events still fresh in his mind. A summer away from Hogwarts had calmed his paranoia, and by September, school had begun again, and he'd slipped back into old and familiar patterns. He was surprised to see @Astra Norrick still in the halls, though their paths rarely crossed—she was in 2nd year, he in 3rd. Perhaps she had spent the summer in St. Mungo's? Hogwarts, he'd learned long ago, tended toward leniency and it would not be without precedent. There had been another Slytherin girl accussed of stabbing a student who had been sent to St. Mungo's and then returned to school.OOC note: Please read first. @Gideon Athanatos I am kind of just throwing this in your lap, and it's of course entirely up to you if you want to go along with it or not. If not, I can very easily invoke a blonde-haired NPC and continue this as a solo, no problem. The basis of this thread is that both Finn and Gideon are in third-year, so they are bound to be in classes together. I've also marked the thread as Owl to Join for the sake of keeping this storyline accessible to other interested parties. I don't have a specific date for this, but it is intended as late November.
In September, life had moved on until only @Pericles Dralt's bad eye reminded him of the events in April. While all he'd read in @Evelynn Decipio's journal was deeply concerning, it was a maze of dead ends, one he could not solve on his own. Meanwhile, assignments and Quidditch duty urgently demanded his attention and he had made no effort or progress in solving the Spring Ball's events.
Yet all that changed when Aamon Athanatos lost his hand and bled all over the Hospital Wing. Not long after, the first-year Slytherin was once again involved in a curious accident, and it was that chance meeting which reignited Finnegan's search for the truth in earnest.
The circumstances surrounding Avis's accident were complex enough that coming across Astra proved less shocking than he might have imagined. Doubt crept back into his thoughts. Rebecca, acting as a mouthpiece for Evelynn Decipio's perspective, first challenged the narrative of his April assault. It was not Astra who had attacked him, but Gideon Athanatos—the young, blonde boy who had mistaken him for George Henry and given an unexpected hug.
Astra's behavior during Avis's treatment did nothing to improve Finnegan's opinion of her, yet it had reinforced his growing doubts. If she truly intended him harm, why not seize this obvious opportunity? The presence of a crowd had not been a deterrent before, so why should it be now? Ironically, it was her inaction which spoke loudest of her innocence, which meant...
---
Suffocating fumes filled the Potions classroom, clouds of bright green and purple which made him feel heady and slow. Finnegan's eyes wandered, losing focus while the Professor droned on about complex brewing techniques. His eyes snagged on a shock of pale hair in his peripheral vision, belonging to a Ravenclaw student whose name he'd never bothered to learn.
The Ravenclaw only had to turn his head to make obviously clear that he was in fact not Gideon Athanatos, but from behind, through bleary-eyes and thick smoke, the resemblance was uncanny.
Memories stirred in the pits of his mind. It was easy to remember the mop of blond hair framing a round, childish face. From appearance alone it was difficult to imagine that such a sweet looking boy could wield a blade with murderous intent. Age was a strange thing. From appearance alone, Gideon looked like he belonged in 3rd or even 2nd year, not 4th. It was a feeling Finnegan could sympathize with, but that was where his sympathies ended. Far more condemning than his appearance was the boy's surname. Athanatos was synonymous with danger, both history and Aamon had been ample proof of that.
When the class finally ended, Finnegan moved with purpose. He knew exactly where Gideon would be—a quick glance at another 4th year's schedule, obtained under the pretense of being interested, had told him all he needed to know. The Athanatos boy would not be far away.
Ironically, it was precisely because the blonde boy looked so out of place amid his peers, some of whom had started to shoot up and grow gorilla arms, that there was no mistaking him. He was easy enough to spot in the dungeon corridor, filing out with the rest of his class. Being slippery as an eel was apparently another family trait, because by the time Finnegan had broken free from his clustering peers blocking his way, the mop of blonde down the hall had already moved. Cursing under his breath, Finnegan threw his bag over one shoulder and hurried down the corridor. Damn his classmates and their gangly bodies. He was certainly not gaining any favors by rudely shouldering through the masses blocking his path, but he wasn't about to relent either. He did not care about turning heads or startled cries. All he cared about was catching up to the vanishingly small speck of blonde hair skipping away from him.
That was another thing about Gideon. He always looked far too happy.
"Gid- Gideon, wait up!" Whether or not the boy would stop, Finnegan would soon catch up with him. Being small, slim-framed and practiced at catching quaffles mid-air in breackneck maneauvres did come in handy after all. "Giddeon, hey..." he panted as he swung a casual arm over the boy's shoulder, like they were best friends and had been for ages. The truth of it was that such a friendly, casual gesture could very quickly turn into a headlock, keeping the Hufflepuff from running away, as he was prone to do. "Wanna play a game?"
Last edited by Finnegan Connor on 21 Dec 2024, 15:59, edited 2 times in total.
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
8 Dec 2024, 15:04
Wanna play?
Gideon turned his head, his cherubic smile already in place as Finnegan’s arm draped over his shoulder. While Gideon was a year older than Finnegan, he was as small as a tall first year. His often stooped his posture, cutting away at an additional inch or two that puberty had added. Yet on his head, over his robes he donned a knitted frog hat, the long verdand scarf left to drape over his shoulders. A stark contrast to his honey-hued Hufflepuff robes. The teen's blue eyes were wide, innocent, and curious, as though he hadn’t the faintest idea why Finnegan had stopped him.
“A game?” Giddy, as he preferred to be called, echoed, his voice as light and lilting as a child’s, tinged with curiosity. “I love games! What kind of game are we playing?”
Despite the warmth in his tone, Gideon was already calculating. Finnegan’s sudden interest in him wasn’t random, he knew that much. He could see the subtle tension in the older boy’s movements, feel the faint squeeze of his arm as though testing the boundaries of how tightly he could hold him without drawing attention. Interesting.
He tilted his head slightly, letting the corners of his lips curve upward in a disarming grin. The sort that suggested he had not a care in the world or a thought in his little golden head. “It must be something fun if you’re this excited.” He let out a soft giggle, as though he couldn’t possibly conceive of any malice behind Finnegan’s intentions.
Inwardly, Gideon’s mind worked fast. Finnegan was the boy he stabbed, the boy whose blood was supposed to awaken it. They were cross to learn that he had failed. He was punished accordingly, not that it was his fault. A girl, someone that he did not know, had decided at random despite not having a history of doing so, that she should target him. He never understood why, because there was no reason for her interference. He had played his role perfectly. He played the role of the lost child in need of help well. He knew what he was doing, but the plan ended up being detoured. He was not certain he would have another opportunity. His collection of bones, left fractured in the incident. The boys blood all but dried up. He would need to start over again, and it had taken him months to acquire Jack Warren's leavings in the pits that pockmarked the ground. A bloodhound for the dead, for their victims that lay strewn about the ground in parts. The ladies would be displeased. Auntie and sister would hold someone accountable.
He’s suspicious, Gideon's mind filtered back to Finn. The boy tried to gauge if there was a threat and if so, how much of one was there. Gideon let out a hum of amusement, his voice pitched just loud enough to be heard over the creak and echo of live and passage in the underbelly of Hogwarts. He did not get many chances to kill, in fact he did not like killing because then the game was over. Done. But the looks of this one, he did not seem particularly durable. He hid the frown that came with that thought.
“You know, Finny,” he said, using the nickname with an exaggerated playfulness that would either charm or irritate, “I’m not very good at chasing games. I’m small, and my legs don’t go as fast as everyone else’s. But if it’s something we can play while walking, I’m in!”
He attempted to gently extricate himself from Finnegan’s loose hold, pivoting so that they were walking side by side. His steps were light, almost bouncing, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“What’s the game, then?” he asked, his tone curious but breezy. “Do I have to guess something? Oh! Or is it a riddle? I’m really good at riddles.” He would continue to walk deeper into the dungeons. The dark did not scare him, not in the least.
“A game?” Giddy, as he preferred to be called, echoed, his voice as light and lilting as a child’s, tinged with curiosity. “I love games! What kind of game are we playing?”
Despite the warmth in his tone, Gideon was already calculating. Finnegan’s sudden interest in him wasn’t random, he knew that much. He could see the subtle tension in the older boy’s movements, feel the faint squeeze of his arm as though testing the boundaries of how tightly he could hold him without drawing attention. Interesting.
He tilted his head slightly, letting the corners of his lips curve upward in a disarming grin. The sort that suggested he had not a care in the world or a thought in his little golden head. “It must be something fun if you’re this excited.” He let out a soft giggle, as though he couldn’t possibly conceive of any malice behind Finnegan’s intentions.
Inwardly, Gideon’s mind worked fast. Finnegan was the boy he stabbed, the boy whose blood was supposed to awaken it. They were cross to learn that he had failed. He was punished accordingly, not that it was his fault. A girl, someone that he did not know, had decided at random despite not having a history of doing so, that she should target him. He never understood why, because there was no reason for her interference. He had played his role perfectly. He played the role of the lost child in need of help well. He knew what he was doing, but the plan ended up being detoured. He was not certain he would have another opportunity. His collection of bones, left fractured in the incident. The boys blood all but dried up. He would need to start over again, and it had taken him months to acquire Jack Warren's leavings in the pits that pockmarked the ground. A bloodhound for the dead, for their victims that lay strewn about the ground in parts. The ladies would be displeased. Auntie and sister would hold someone accountable.
He’s suspicious, Gideon's mind filtered back to Finn. The boy tried to gauge if there was a threat and if so, how much of one was there. Gideon let out a hum of amusement, his voice pitched just loud enough to be heard over the creak and echo of live and passage in the underbelly of Hogwarts. He did not get many chances to kill, in fact he did not like killing because then the game was over. Done. But the looks of this one, he did not seem particularly durable. He hid the frown that came with that thought.
“You know, Finny,” he said, using the nickname with an exaggerated playfulness that would either charm or irritate, “I’m not very good at chasing games. I’m small, and my legs don’t go as fast as everyone else’s. But if it’s something we can play while walking, I’m in!”
He attempted to gently extricate himself from Finnegan’s loose hold, pivoting so that they were walking side by side. His steps were light, almost bouncing, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“What’s the game, then?” he asked, his tone curious but breezy. “Do I have to guess something? Oh! Or is it a riddle? I’m really good at riddles.” He would continue to walk deeper into the dungeons. The dark did not scare him, not in the least.
8 Dec 2024, 16:14
Wanna play?
Their game had started the minute Gideon had turned his head. Good, Finnegan thought, relieved he'd finally been able to get a hold of the boy. Even knowing all he did, he had to remind himself who he had just walked up to. There was nothing in the boy's features that hinted at malice, they were almost the same height, and the googly-eyed frog scarf he wore made him seem childish and harmless. But Gideon wasn't the only one who could feign innocence and thicken his voice with giddy excitement, though he was undoubtedly more experienced at doing so.
"Oh, it's a very fun game!" Finnegan beamed back. He had fooled another Athanatos before with his theatrics, pretending to have been defeated right before he'd put Mathias Pride in his place. Whether Gideon would be similarly deceived remained to be seen, but the least he could do was try to seed doubt. The more Gideon choose to believe he was faced with a mirror version of himself, only dark-haired, naive and lacking cruelty, the better.
Finn's welcoming, hazel eyes narrowed for a split second at the mention of his name. Sure enough, it could be explained that Gideon knew it or had learned it in the aftermath of the Spring Ball. Or he knows it because he's been targeting me... Though for what reason? The only way to find out was to play.
"That's OK," he smiled warmly, giving Gideon a reassuring pat on the back. "I'm not that fast either." It was an obvious lie disguised as humility. But did Gideon know he was dealing with Gryffindor's star Chaser? Such was the first part of the game they played, testing the waters, prodding and poking between the lines to find out where Gideon was weakest.
The subtle shrug with which Gideon had freed himself from his grasp had not escaped his attention. They were quickly getting away from the thick of the students preparing to head down the Great Hall for lunch. Yet the route Gideon was taking would take them deeper into the dungeons first. Not so fast Gideon. My game, my rules...
In a way he was glad they were already a few feet removed from the crowd, because Gideon was already forcing him to slip even further into a childish role. "Giddy," he said as he reached to grab the boy's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "this isn't the right way..." Not if they wanted to head up for lunch anyway. "...I'm a bit, uh-" The pause was deliberate, the quick look back at the now thinning crowd of students was not. If they remained here it would not be long before they'd be alone, and that could not be allowed to happen. "I'm..."
He paused then pulled. With the slightest tug, Finnegan attempted to turn Gideon around, to lead them both back toward the bustle of students and follow the herd up the winding stairway leading out of the dungeons. He silently hoped no one would notice they were holding hands and jump to conclusions, but that was frankly low on the list of concerns at present. Finnegan leaned his head in close toward Gideon, cupped his free hand over his mouth and whispered into the boy's ear. "...I'm scared of the dark..." He made an effort to sound sincere and feeble all at once, a picture that was aided by the clammy feel of his hand, still holding Gideon's. "But don't tell anyone, OK?" he added quickly in a breathy voice.
"The game is a bit like riddles, I suppose, it's like a guessing game, but it's even more fun when more people join in. Do you know George Henry? He's brilliant, he's always down to play games and we're great friends!" This time his pull on the boy's hand was stronger, more forceful, intended to drag him through the thick of the crowding students so they'd end up smack in the middle of it. The intention was clear: to stick with the mass of students, to remain within the public eye and ultimately head toward the Great Hall.
"Oh, it's a very fun game!" Finnegan beamed back. He had fooled another Athanatos before with his theatrics, pretending to have been defeated right before he'd put Mathias Pride in his place. Whether Gideon would be similarly deceived remained to be seen, but the least he could do was try to seed doubt. The more Gideon choose to believe he was faced with a mirror version of himself, only dark-haired, naive and lacking cruelty, the better.
Finn's welcoming, hazel eyes narrowed for a split second at the mention of his name. Sure enough, it could be explained that Gideon knew it or had learned it in the aftermath of the Spring Ball. Or he knows it because he's been targeting me... Though for what reason? The only way to find out was to play.
"That's OK," he smiled warmly, giving Gideon a reassuring pat on the back. "I'm not that fast either." It was an obvious lie disguised as humility. But did Gideon know he was dealing with Gryffindor's star Chaser? Such was the first part of the game they played, testing the waters, prodding and poking between the lines to find out where Gideon was weakest.
The subtle shrug with which Gideon had freed himself from his grasp had not escaped his attention. They were quickly getting away from the thick of the students preparing to head down the Great Hall for lunch. Yet the route Gideon was taking would take them deeper into the dungeons first. Not so fast Gideon. My game, my rules...
In a way he was glad they were already a few feet removed from the crowd, because Gideon was already forcing him to slip even further into a childish role. "Giddy," he said as he reached to grab the boy's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "this isn't the right way..." Not if they wanted to head up for lunch anyway. "...I'm a bit, uh-" The pause was deliberate, the quick look back at the now thinning crowd of students was not. If they remained here it would not be long before they'd be alone, and that could not be allowed to happen. "I'm..."
He paused then pulled. With the slightest tug, Finnegan attempted to turn Gideon around, to lead them both back toward the bustle of students and follow the herd up the winding stairway leading out of the dungeons. He silently hoped no one would notice they were holding hands and jump to conclusions, but that was frankly low on the list of concerns at present. Finnegan leaned his head in close toward Gideon, cupped his free hand over his mouth and whispered into the boy's ear. "...I'm scared of the dark..." He made an effort to sound sincere and feeble all at once, a picture that was aided by the clammy feel of his hand, still holding Gideon's. "But don't tell anyone, OK?" he added quickly in a breathy voice.
"The game is a bit like riddles, I suppose, it's like a guessing game, but it's even more fun when more people join in. Do you know George Henry? He's brilliant, he's always down to play games and we're great friends!" This time his pull on the boy's hand was stronger, more forceful, intended to drag him through the thick of the crowding students so they'd end up smack in the middle of it. The intention was clear: to stick with the mass of students, to remain within the public eye and ultimately head toward the Great Hall.
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
8 Dec 2024, 16:37
Wanna play?
Gideon allowed himself to be pulled, his small hand content in Finnegan’s grasp, the faintest glimmer of a smile flickering across his lips as they moved back toward the thick of the crowd. He often held hands with his classmates, Finnegan would be no exception. Yet this wasn’t the smile of a boy being led to safety, nor the smile of one outmaneuvered—it was the smile of a predator indulging the whims of its prey before the inevitable pounce.
“Scared of the dark?” Gideon whispered, his tone light and teasing, though his words carried a subtle edge. The dark was a common facet of fear, but it was not the dark itself that people feared. Much like deep waters, it was not the water itself most often, but rather what was hidden beneath, behind and below. “Don’t worry, Finn. Your secret’s safe with me.” He gave Finnegan’s hand a gentle squeeze, his touch as fleeting as a ghost. “You know, it’s brave of you to admit that. Not everyone would.”
He skipped a step ahead, never freeing his hand as he tried top pull Finnegan along. He mentioned dormate George Henry, an upper classman. George was an opportunity. A big hearted, soft boy that seemed to have space in his heart and life for anything 'adorable.' He seemed strong, not necessarily stronger than the average boy, but strong enough. He seemed keen to fight other people's battles, was well-liked by others and had a knack for overlooking suspicious moments. Indeed, Giddy liked George Henry. The Hufflepuff turned to face Finnegan with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “George Henry? Oh, I love George Henry! Brilliant, you said? I’ve only met him a couple of times, but I could tell he’s just the sort of person who’d love a good game.”
Was he bring brought to George he wondered? He hoped not. Not that he would admit that sentiment. It was hard to have any real fun when there were witnesses.
Gideon’s gaze darted around the crowd, scanning the faces of passing students, though his mind was entirely focused on the boy before him. Finnegan was trying to steer the game, trying to pull the strings and maintain control, not that Gideon had any reason to realize this.
His voice softened as he leaned closer, lowering it just enough to draw Finnegan’s attention away from their surroundings. “You’re so kind to me, Finn. Dragging me through the crowd like this, keeping me safe from the scary, empty dungeons.” He tilted his head, his tone slipping into something almost conspiratorial. “But isn’t it funny? The dark doesn’t scare me. It’s the light, sometimes, that shows the things you really don’t want to see.” An eerie contrast, the strange almost out of place statement that he wedged into conversation as if it was merely an odd thought.
Gideon reached out to Finnegan's forearm with his other hand as though to steady himself, brushing a hand lightly against Finnegan’s side, but his movement lingered just a fraction longer than necessary. The movement was casual, harmless to an observer, but to Finnegan, it might feel just a little too intentional.
“And the crowd,” Gideon continued, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. “It’s so safe here, isn’t it? All these people, all this noise. No one would ever think anything bad could happen in a crowd. But that’s the trick... That’s when the real games begin. When no one’s paying attention.”
His expression shifted back to childlike delight as quickly as it had darkened, and he gave Finnegan a playful nudge. “But let’s keep it simple, okay? Riddles! I love riddles. Here’s one for you: ‘It runs and runs but can never flee. It is often watched, yet never seen. When long it brings boredom, When short it brings fear. What is it?’ Do you know the answer?”
His voice was full of earnest curiosity, but his eyes never left Finnegan’s, studying every flicker of emotion, every shift in his expression. Test the waters. Push, but not too hard. See what opportunities expose themselves over the course of this game, as short or as long as it might be.
“Scared of the dark?” Gideon whispered, his tone light and teasing, though his words carried a subtle edge. The dark was a common facet of fear, but it was not the dark itself that people feared. Much like deep waters, it was not the water itself most often, but rather what was hidden beneath, behind and below. “Don’t worry, Finn. Your secret’s safe with me.” He gave Finnegan’s hand a gentle squeeze, his touch as fleeting as a ghost. “You know, it’s brave of you to admit that. Not everyone would.”
He skipped a step ahead, never freeing his hand as he tried top pull Finnegan along. He mentioned dormate George Henry, an upper classman. George was an opportunity. A big hearted, soft boy that seemed to have space in his heart and life for anything 'adorable.' He seemed strong, not necessarily stronger than the average boy, but strong enough. He seemed keen to fight other people's battles, was well-liked by others and had a knack for overlooking suspicious moments. Indeed, Giddy liked George Henry. The Hufflepuff turned to face Finnegan with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “George Henry? Oh, I love George Henry! Brilliant, you said? I’ve only met him a couple of times, but I could tell he’s just the sort of person who’d love a good game.”
Was he bring brought to George he wondered? He hoped not. Not that he would admit that sentiment. It was hard to have any real fun when there were witnesses.
Gideon’s gaze darted around the crowd, scanning the faces of passing students, though his mind was entirely focused on the boy before him. Finnegan was trying to steer the game, trying to pull the strings and maintain control, not that Gideon had any reason to realize this.
His voice softened as he leaned closer, lowering it just enough to draw Finnegan’s attention away from their surroundings. “You’re so kind to me, Finn. Dragging me through the crowd like this, keeping me safe from the scary, empty dungeons.” He tilted his head, his tone slipping into something almost conspiratorial. “But isn’t it funny? The dark doesn’t scare me. It’s the light, sometimes, that shows the things you really don’t want to see.” An eerie contrast, the strange almost out of place statement that he wedged into conversation as if it was merely an odd thought.
Gideon reached out to Finnegan's forearm with his other hand as though to steady himself, brushing a hand lightly against Finnegan’s side, but his movement lingered just a fraction longer than necessary. The movement was casual, harmless to an observer, but to Finnegan, it might feel just a little too intentional.
“And the crowd,” Gideon continued, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. “It’s so safe here, isn’t it? All these people, all this noise. No one would ever think anything bad could happen in a crowd. But that’s the trick... That’s when the real games begin. When no one’s paying attention.”
His expression shifted back to childlike delight as quickly as it had darkened, and he gave Finnegan a playful nudge. “But let’s keep it simple, okay? Riddles! I love riddles. Here’s one for you: ‘It runs and runs but can never flee. It is often watched, yet never seen. When long it brings boredom, When short it brings fear. What is it?’ Do you know the answer?”
His voice was full of earnest curiosity, but his eyes never left Finnegan’s, studying every flicker of emotion, every shift in his expression. Test the waters. Push, but not too hard. See what opportunities expose themselves over the course of this game, as short or as long as it might be.
8 Dec 2024, 17:38
Wanna play?
He had to keep his wits about him. It was easy, so easy to believe Gideon when the boy responded precisely how a harmless Hufflepuff would. A tasteful dash of teasing, a note of disbelief and surprise, and then that gentle, reassuring squeeze. He would merely have to close his eyes to imagine he was walking hand in hand with sweet Alma Stoll, the way Gideon didn't just reassure him, but complimented him too. "Thanks for understanding," he answered, still keeping his voice low. "And thanks for, you know, he offered a weak smile, "protecting me." He left it up to Gideon to determine if he was referring to the present or the past.
Not wanting to seem overly controlling, Finnegan went along with Gideon this time, following him up the winding stairs and out of the dungeons. He nodded happily along at all that Gideon had to say about George. So far, Gideon had not lied nor revealed anything of use, but that was soon about to change.
They slowed a little when Gideon leaned closer, letting other students file past. Finnegan had stuffed his left hand in the pocket of his robes, seemingly casual, yet reaching for his wand. On the outside he brushed Gideon's remark aside with a friendly, sheepish look. "You're not a vampire, are you?" He managed to squeeze out a bubble of laughter, though he was very far from laughing in his mind.
If he had any lingering doubts that Gideon was catching on to their game, those doubts vanished the minute the boy's hand brushed over his side. He flinched visibly and the nervous giggle that followed came all too easily, "that tickles!" Gideon would probably shrug, pretend he hadn't deliberately touched that particular spot or feign innocence somehow. It was unsettling, but at least Gideon was talking, at least he was making a semblance of progress.
"Uh-huh," Finnegan nodded at Gideon's suggestive monologue about paying attention. "Not everyone pays attention, but I do, not always in class, but there are things..." He locked eyes with the blue-eyed boy for a moment and let his gaze linger for a while, "or people that I pay close attention to." His voice, light and seemingly unfazed, trailed off into sweet nothingness.
Suddenly his face lit up and he let go of Gideon's hand, then grabbed hold of the ends of the frog scarf, one in each hand. "I like your scarf, it's very," it was hard not to throw up in his mouth at the next word, "cute, it looks well lush on you." The faux admiration was thick in his voice, though he tried to make it sound real. The lengths he would go to get the answers he sought were far greater than Gideon could possibly imagine.
Finnegan licked his lips and seemed lost in thought for a moment, admiring the craftsmanship on Gideon's scarf while he considered the riddle. "Hmmm..." He cocked his head to the side and looked up, pensively, scarf still loosely in his hand like he was holding the reins on some animal. "Let me think... uh..." While he wrecked his mind for an answer, he tugged the ends of the scarf so that the part wrapped around Gideon's throat would tighten momentarily, but swiftly loosened his grip. The movement was done quickly, lightly, playfully, almost lovingly. "I'm not really sure, but... shadows? Wait, no, time!" For once, his beaming smile was not a ploy but a genuine expression of happiness at having figured it out.
"OK, my turn." Out of all the unsettling things Gideon had said and all the challenges the boy had thrown his way, coming up with a riddle was the hardest challenge so far. "I am blindfolded yet tasked to see the truth. I am armed yet do not wish to harm. All you say I weight with care and those who seek me think me fair. Who am I?"
Not wanting to seem overly controlling, Finnegan went along with Gideon this time, following him up the winding stairs and out of the dungeons. He nodded happily along at all that Gideon had to say about George. So far, Gideon had not lied nor revealed anything of use, but that was soon about to change.
They slowed a little when Gideon leaned closer, letting other students file past. Finnegan had stuffed his left hand in the pocket of his robes, seemingly casual, yet reaching for his wand. On the outside he brushed Gideon's remark aside with a friendly, sheepish look. "You're not a vampire, are you?" He managed to squeeze out a bubble of laughter, though he was very far from laughing in his mind.
If he had any lingering doubts that Gideon was catching on to their game, those doubts vanished the minute the boy's hand brushed over his side. He flinched visibly and the nervous giggle that followed came all too easily, "that tickles!" Gideon would probably shrug, pretend he hadn't deliberately touched that particular spot or feign innocence somehow. It was unsettling, but at least Gideon was talking, at least he was making a semblance of progress.
"Uh-huh," Finnegan nodded at Gideon's suggestive monologue about paying attention. "Not everyone pays attention, but I do, not always in class, but there are things..." He locked eyes with the blue-eyed boy for a moment and let his gaze linger for a while, "or people that I pay close attention to." His voice, light and seemingly unfazed, trailed off into sweet nothingness.
Suddenly his face lit up and he let go of Gideon's hand, then grabbed hold of the ends of the frog scarf, one in each hand. "I like your scarf, it's very," it was hard not to throw up in his mouth at the next word, "cute, it looks well lush on you." The faux admiration was thick in his voice, though he tried to make it sound real. The lengths he would go to get the answers he sought were far greater than Gideon could possibly imagine.
Finnegan licked his lips and seemed lost in thought for a moment, admiring the craftsmanship on Gideon's scarf while he considered the riddle. "Hmmm..." He cocked his head to the side and looked up, pensively, scarf still loosely in his hand like he was holding the reins on some animal. "Let me think... uh..." While he wrecked his mind for an answer, he tugged the ends of the scarf so that the part wrapped around Gideon's throat would tighten momentarily, but swiftly loosened his grip. The movement was done quickly, lightly, playfully, almost lovingly. "I'm not really sure, but... shadows? Wait, no, time!" For once, his beaming smile was not a ploy but a genuine expression of happiness at having figured it out.
"OK, my turn." Out of all the unsettling things Gideon had said and all the challenges the boy had thrown his way, coming up with a riddle was the hardest challenge so far. "I am blindfolded yet tasked to see the truth. I am armed yet do not wish to harm. All you say I weight with care and those who seek me think me fair. Who am I?"
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
8 Dec 2024, 18:10
Wanna play?
Gideon’s smile widened as Finnegan tugged at his scarf, the playful tightening a clear test, an unspoken prod to see how he would react. He didn’t flinch, didn’t stiffen—just tilted his head slightly as though curious, his expression remaining as sunny as ever. “Careful, Finny,” he said lightly, his voice lilting with amusement. “You wouldn’t want to strangle Giddy before the game’s over, would you?” He often moved to the third person in his speech to sound less insightful. He often sought to be underestimated by his peers and his rivals.
His hand darted up to adjust the scarf, tugging it loose with practiced ease as if to reassert control, all while maintaining the image of a carefree boy. The frog eyes on the scarf bobbed slightly as he straightened it, making him look even more harmless, almost ridiculous.
When Finnegan posed his riddle, Gideon let out an exaggerated hum, tapping his chin with a finger. “Blindfolded, yet tasked to see the truth? Armed, but not wishing to harm?” He glanced at Finnegan, his bright blue eyes twinkling with mock puzzlement. “Oh, that’s a good one. Very clever. It sounds like...” He drew the word out, giving Finnegan a chance to feel a flicker of triumph before continuing. He should have said justice but no, he wanted to throw a curve in whatever this game Finn was playing “...a Seer, doesn’t it?" The scales, the sword, the blindfold. Justice is blind, but it weighs the truth. Alternatively judgement in the context of ancient Egyptian mythology, a "feather heart" refers to the symbolic weight of a deceased person's heart being compared to the feather of Maat, the goddess of truth and justice, where a heart lighter than the feather signifies a good soul allowed into the afterlife. Hew sometimes wondered if the heart could be light if the holder did not care about the trespasses that they committed. He felt nothing but lightness in his heart, even when his hands were red.
His smile softened, though the sharpness in his gaze remained. “Was that the right answer? It felt right to me.”
Gideon took a small step closer, his voice lowering to something almost conspiratorial. “Do you think that Seers always gets it right, though, Finny? I mean, they do not see with their eyes, the metaphorical blindfold of a seer represents their disconnection with conventional sight. What if they don’t see the whole picture? Fail to grasp the context? What if someone clever enough to weigh down that scale, to break those threads of fate before anyone knows what’s happening?”
His words were light, playful even, but the weight of them hung between them like a blade. He reached out again, this time not for Finnegan but for the scarf’s soft fabric, brushing his fingers along it as if he’d just noticed it was still in Finnegan’s hands. “You like the scarf?” he asked, his tone as sweet as sugar. “Winnie made it for me. Isn’t that thoughtful? Winnie said Giddy had a flair for fashion.”
His voice took on a dreamy quality, but there was a subtle, deliberate shift in his posture, leaning ever so slightly into Finnegan’s personal space, forcing the older boy to confront him more directly. “You know, Finny, I think you’d look good in a scarf like this. Maybe you should ask her to make you one. It might suit you. Something bright, something bold. Something to help everyone notice you.” He could see Finnegan in a scarf that resembled a lion's mane perhaps, thick and perhaps overbearing with a mantle that covered his ears in a brownish wool.
The words carried no obvious malice, but the implication was unmistakable: I see you, and you’ll regret making yourself visible to me.
He took a step back, releasing the scarf entirely and letting his hands fall to his sides. His smile returned to its usual cheeriness. “But enough about scarves! Your turn again, right? Giddy hopes you’ve got another riddle ready, because I’m really enjoying this game.”
His tone was light, but his eyes watched Finnegan carefully, calculating every move, every reaction. The game wasn’t just about riddles—it never was. It was about control. And Gideon had no intention of losing.
He had a riddle of his own, "I wear a mask, my smile is sweet. A friend you trust, a bond complete. But in the shadows, plans are laid, to turn the trust against the blade. I twist the truth, I shift the tide, I strike where loyalty should abide. What am I, that turns love frail, and leaves behind a bitter trail?" He continued to walk these halls hand in hand with Finn, looking over his shoulder at times to see how far the nearest stranger stood. If they could hear their chatter.
His hand darted up to adjust the scarf, tugging it loose with practiced ease as if to reassert control, all while maintaining the image of a carefree boy. The frog eyes on the scarf bobbed slightly as he straightened it, making him look even more harmless, almost ridiculous.
When Finnegan posed his riddle, Gideon let out an exaggerated hum, tapping his chin with a finger. “Blindfolded, yet tasked to see the truth? Armed, but not wishing to harm?” He glanced at Finnegan, his bright blue eyes twinkling with mock puzzlement. “Oh, that’s a good one. Very clever. It sounds like...” He drew the word out, giving Finnegan a chance to feel a flicker of triumph before continuing. He should have said justice but no, he wanted to throw a curve in whatever this game Finn was playing “...a Seer, doesn’t it?" The scales, the sword, the blindfold. Justice is blind, but it weighs the truth. Alternatively judgement in the context of ancient Egyptian mythology, a "feather heart" refers to the symbolic weight of a deceased person's heart being compared to the feather of Maat, the goddess of truth and justice, where a heart lighter than the feather signifies a good soul allowed into the afterlife. Hew sometimes wondered if the heart could be light if the holder did not care about the trespasses that they committed. He felt nothing but lightness in his heart, even when his hands were red.
His smile softened, though the sharpness in his gaze remained. “Was that the right answer? It felt right to me.”
Gideon took a small step closer, his voice lowering to something almost conspiratorial. “Do you think that Seers always gets it right, though, Finny? I mean, they do not see with their eyes, the metaphorical blindfold of a seer represents their disconnection with conventional sight. What if they don’t see the whole picture? Fail to grasp the context? What if someone clever enough to weigh down that scale, to break those threads of fate before anyone knows what’s happening?”
His words were light, playful even, but the weight of them hung between them like a blade. He reached out again, this time not for Finnegan but for the scarf’s soft fabric, brushing his fingers along it as if he’d just noticed it was still in Finnegan’s hands. “You like the scarf?” he asked, his tone as sweet as sugar. “Winnie made it for me. Isn’t that thoughtful? Winnie said Giddy had a flair for fashion.”
His voice took on a dreamy quality, but there was a subtle, deliberate shift in his posture, leaning ever so slightly into Finnegan’s personal space, forcing the older boy to confront him more directly. “You know, Finny, I think you’d look good in a scarf like this. Maybe you should ask her to make you one. It might suit you. Something bright, something bold. Something to help everyone notice you.” He could see Finnegan in a scarf that resembled a lion's mane perhaps, thick and perhaps overbearing with a mantle that covered his ears in a brownish wool.
The words carried no obvious malice, but the implication was unmistakable: I see you, and you’ll regret making yourself visible to me.
He took a step back, releasing the scarf entirely and letting his hands fall to his sides. His smile returned to its usual cheeriness. “But enough about scarves! Your turn again, right? Giddy hopes you’ve got another riddle ready, because I’m really enjoying this game.”
His tone was light, but his eyes watched Finnegan carefully, calculating every move, every reaction. The game wasn’t just about riddles—it never was. It was about control. And Gideon had no intention of losing.
He had a riddle of his own, "I wear a mask, my smile is sweet. A friend you trust, a bond complete. But in the shadows, plans are laid, to turn the trust against the blade. I twist the truth, I shift the tide, I strike where loyalty should abide. What am I, that turns love frail, and leaves behind a bitter trail?" He continued to walk these halls hand in hand with Finn, looking over his shoulder at times to see how far the nearest stranger stood. If they could hear their chatter.
8 Dec 2024, 22:14
Wanna play?
Shock was clearly visible on his face. “Strangle-? I’d never!” A second later he wrinkled his nose and playfully jabbed Gideon with an elbow. “Oh I see, you’re pulling my leg, you are. Cheeky…” Was he truly that naive? He tried very hard to seem that way, but he could not be wholly sure Gideon would believe it. It would take a while, he figured, to convince the Hufflepuff that he had no ulterior motives, that he was out of his depths, easy prey. But how could he achieve that? Playing fool was not enough, he would have to provide Gideon with a reason, a convincing reason, something for his little brain to focus on, and he knew just the thing.
“Awwww…. Almost!” He said, “it is a good answer, it is! Just not what I meant, but that’s OK! Riddles are really hard…” Something about what he’d said or done must’ve hit a button in Gideon, because the boy was turning into a right chatterbox. On the outside he nodded along with a slightly dreamy, distant look in his eyes-eyes which roved over Gideon in the most unusual way. He wasn’t seizing Gideon up, not in the way that a sceptical person might take the measure of someone. No, he was looking at Gideon with admiration, the same admiration Gideon undoubtedly received from grannies. Such a sweet boy, such an angelic, adorable little guy with his lovely eyes, lovely face and endearing smiles. “I think it counts,” he said sweetly. “Sometimes we’ve just got to do what feels right…”
Gideon’s step closer was reciprocated immediately, the message that Finnegan had been sending with his eyes now repeated by standing even closer to the Hufflepuff youngster. Much was said in those small movements, there was clear bravery there, foolhardy perhaps, but still brave. Despite Gideon’s barely veiled threats, he did not back away from Gideon and even took a small step forward of his own. The larger message was hard to miss, but possibly quite foreign to Gideon. The boy had surely been on the receiving end of mild, peer affection-he was too much of an adorable puppy not to have been-but had he ever experienced the dizzying feeling of someone looking at you in deep admiration? "It looks very cute on you," he answered, "you have style, but frankly you don't, uh," he bashfully averted his gaze for a second, "I think you look plenty cute without it too…"
His heartbeat quickened from the thrill of their game. How much closer would he dare to get? How many more sweet lies would he dare to utter? How much further was he prepared to go in order to get the answers he sought? And if he found them, if he could bring Gideon to his knees and confess, would he have the guts to carry through on the promise he had made to the forest?
"I'd like that," he answered at the notion of getting a scarf for himself. "But I think I'd prefer something a little more ordinary, I could do without the eyes for example. I don't need to stand out."
Many things Gideon had said, including his strange habit to speak about himself in third person, were filed away in Finnegan's mind. Noticing something and responding to them were two different things. The more doltish and clueless Gideon thought him to be, the better. "I reckon that one's too hard for me." A pained, concentrating expression showed on his face, like he was wrecking his brain for an answer. "Jealousy, maybe?"
Realising they had slowed to a standstill and were nearly the last people in the row of students snaking up the stairs, Finnegan grabbed Gideon’s hand again and offered a quick smile, gently pulling the blonde Athanatos boy along up the stairs until they were out of the dungeons and entered the light of a small hall. He took great care to maintain a slight distance from any nearby students, far enough for there to be a semblance of privacy between them, but not so far that Gideon could do anything rash and violent without being spotted.
“I- I don’t know how to tell you this Giddy, but, I’d been meaning to, you know, to come up to you for a while and- and…” He stumbled over his words, squeezed and unsqueezed Gideon’s hand, anything to portray an image of fumbling insecurity, of weakness. “Well, to thank you for saving me, of course but also-“ He stopped near an alcove, guarded by one of the animated suits of armour who let out an annoyed huffing sound at being disturbed. The hall was filled with broad daylight and students milled about mere feet away from them, yet this little corner of the hall felt more private and intimate. It would be in that tiny, dusty corner that he would debase himself for the sake of vengeance. Every movement was deliberate, every word calculated and premeditated. None of that made what he was about to do any easier, but any hesitation Gideon might detect would serve to enhance the picture he wished to paint in Gideon’s mind. The more convinced the Hufflepuff boy became that he was dealing with weak, easy prey, the more trapped he would become. “I don’t think just saying thanks would be enough, Giddy. You’re my hero.” It came out sounding exactly how he’d practiced it in front of the mirror, thick with admiration and affection, and just a dash of desire. “I-“ He stepped closer to Gideon, close enough to feel his breath on his skin and-
“Fuck it.”
He leaned forward, tried to cup his hero’s face with one hand, and pressed a bashful kiss to Gideon’s cheek.
Unless he had been stopped he would pull away soon after, then beam at Gideon and reach down to hold both of the boy’s hands, swaying them gently back and forth. “I like playing games with you almost as much as I like you, Giddy. Oh, I just thought of another riddle, want to hear it?” He didn’t really wait for an answer while he smirked. “I’m looking very red in the face, who am I?”
“Awwww…. Almost!” He said, “it is a good answer, it is! Just not what I meant, but that’s OK! Riddles are really hard…” Something about what he’d said or done must’ve hit a button in Gideon, because the boy was turning into a right chatterbox. On the outside he nodded along with a slightly dreamy, distant look in his eyes-eyes which roved over Gideon in the most unusual way. He wasn’t seizing Gideon up, not in the way that a sceptical person might take the measure of someone. No, he was looking at Gideon with admiration, the same admiration Gideon undoubtedly received from grannies. Such a sweet boy, such an angelic, adorable little guy with his lovely eyes, lovely face and endearing smiles. “I think it counts,” he said sweetly. “Sometimes we’ve just got to do what feels right…”
Gideon’s step closer was reciprocated immediately, the message that Finnegan had been sending with his eyes now repeated by standing even closer to the Hufflepuff youngster. Much was said in those small movements, there was clear bravery there, foolhardy perhaps, but still brave. Despite Gideon’s barely veiled threats, he did not back away from Gideon and even took a small step forward of his own. The larger message was hard to miss, but possibly quite foreign to Gideon. The boy had surely been on the receiving end of mild, peer affection-he was too much of an adorable puppy not to have been-but had he ever experienced the dizzying feeling of someone looking at you in deep admiration? "It looks very cute on you," he answered, "you have style, but frankly you don't, uh," he bashfully averted his gaze for a second, "I think you look plenty cute without it too…"
His heartbeat quickened from the thrill of their game. How much closer would he dare to get? How many more sweet lies would he dare to utter? How much further was he prepared to go in order to get the answers he sought? And if he found them, if he could bring Gideon to his knees and confess, would he have the guts to carry through on the promise he had made to the forest?
"I'd like that," he answered at the notion of getting a scarf for himself. "But I think I'd prefer something a little more ordinary, I could do without the eyes for example. I don't need to stand out."
Many things Gideon had said, including his strange habit to speak about himself in third person, were filed away in Finnegan's mind. Noticing something and responding to them were two different things. The more doltish and clueless Gideon thought him to be, the better. "I reckon that one's too hard for me." A pained, concentrating expression showed on his face, like he was wrecking his brain for an answer. "Jealousy, maybe?"
Realising they had slowed to a standstill and were nearly the last people in the row of students snaking up the stairs, Finnegan grabbed Gideon’s hand again and offered a quick smile, gently pulling the blonde Athanatos boy along up the stairs until they were out of the dungeons and entered the light of a small hall. He took great care to maintain a slight distance from any nearby students, far enough for there to be a semblance of privacy between them, but not so far that Gideon could do anything rash and violent without being spotted.
“I- I don’t know how to tell you this Giddy, but, I’d been meaning to, you know, to come up to you for a while and- and…” He stumbled over his words, squeezed and unsqueezed Gideon’s hand, anything to portray an image of fumbling insecurity, of weakness. “Well, to thank you for saving me, of course but also-“ He stopped near an alcove, guarded by one of the animated suits of armour who let out an annoyed huffing sound at being disturbed. The hall was filled with broad daylight and students milled about mere feet away from them, yet this little corner of the hall felt more private and intimate. It would be in that tiny, dusty corner that he would debase himself for the sake of vengeance. Every movement was deliberate, every word calculated and premeditated. None of that made what he was about to do any easier, but any hesitation Gideon might detect would serve to enhance the picture he wished to paint in Gideon’s mind. The more convinced the Hufflepuff boy became that he was dealing with weak, easy prey, the more trapped he would become. “I don’t think just saying thanks would be enough, Giddy. You’re my hero.” It came out sounding exactly how he’d practiced it in front of the mirror, thick with admiration and affection, and just a dash of desire. “I-“ He stepped closer to Gideon, close enough to feel his breath on his skin and-
He said the quickest, most effective prayer he knew:OOC note: the text below ONLY applies if Gideon does not resist.
“Fuck it.”
He leaned forward, tried to cup his hero’s face with one hand, and pressed a bashful kiss to Gideon’s cheek.
Unless he had been stopped he would pull away soon after, then beam at Gideon and reach down to hold both of the boy’s hands, swaying them gently back and forth. “I like playing games with you almost as much as I like you, Giddy. Oh, I just thought of another riddle, want to hear it?” He didn’t really wait for an answer while he smirked. “I’m looking very red in the face, who am I?”
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
8 Dec 2024, 23:30
Wanna play?
Gideon stood frozen for a brief moment, and for anyone watching, his wide-eyed expression could have been mistaken for innocent shock. But beneath that sweet, cherubic exterior, his mind raced like a predator caught off guard. Finnegan’s kiss on his cheek was the last thing he had expected—a bold, disarming move in their delicate game.
The heat from Finnegan’s touch lingered on his skin, and for the first time in recent memory, Gideon didn’t have a pre-loaded response ready to fire. He had built his facade on the foundation of juvenile innocence and while the unexpected gesture had the innocent flair of first love, it also marked the boundary between childish things and maturity. Gideon used his childish exterior as a shield and those that wished to protect the vulnerable youth like a sword.
What to do... What to do... What to do!
But Gideon Athanatos was nothing if not adaptable.
Recovering quickly, he let a faint blush creep into his cheeks, a masterful performance of bashful surprise. Although it did not take much effort he realized and as he did an unconscious deep red flush came over his cheeks as if he was holding his breath for too long. His smile returned, shy and endearing, as though the gesture had flustered him in the most innocent way. It had, but his response was in truth anything but innocent.
“Finn...y” he breathed, almost forgetting the cutesy suffix, his voice barely above a whisper. He clasped Finnegan’s hands in his own, tilting his head slightly as if trying to process what had just happened. In truth, he was buying time as he attempted to formulate a response. It would have been easiest to scream cooties and make a run for it. If George henry was nearby, he would have on impulse but this was Gideon's first kiss by someone that was not his mommy. His thoughts ended up landing on another, rather unfortunate thought - he found he was disappointed that the kiss was not on the lips. “You’re so sweet. I don’t know what to say.”
He gave a nervous laugh, stepping back just enough to reclaim a sliver of space, but not so far as to appear uncomfortable. His hands remained in Finnegan’s, swaying slightly as though they were merely two friends sharing a moment.
Inside, Gideon’s mind was a storm. Why did he do that? What does he want from me? Is he testing me? Trying to distract me? He couldn’t allow Finnegan to gain the upper hand. If this was a ploy, Gideon needed to turn it back against him—subtly, of course, without arousing suspicion. But what if it was not a ploy? Does that mean that they were dating? That they were in love? He did not have a scrunchie for Finnegan.
“You called me- Giddy your hero,” Gideon said softly, his tone almost wistful as he fought to stay in character. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to G-iddy before. It means a lot, Finn.” He squeezed the boy’s hands gently, his blue eyes searching Finnegan’s face for any sign of weakness or hidden intent. “You’re so brave, you know? Saying something like that. Doing something like that.”
He let out another nervous giggle, releasing one of Finnegan’s hands to adjust the frog scarf around his neck. He needed the distraction just then. “But you’ve got me all flustered now! You’re making me redder than you are!”The Hufflepuff exclaimed.
He was never given a chance to get his bearings as Finnegan pushed the narrative along. “I like playing games with you almost as much as I like you, Giddy. Oh, I just thought of another riddle, want to hear it? ...I’m looking very red in the face, who am I?”
Gideon tilted his head, giving a playful pout as he considered the riddle Finnegan had presented. “Hmm, let me think,” he said, his voice light and teasing. The it dawned on him, and the cherry hue returned to his face but he tried to repress it. Act as if he was surprised by the observation. “I think I’ve got it! Is it... you?” He gave an exaggerated gasp, his hand flying to his mouth. “No way, right? Because I think I’m the one blushing here!” He broke character again.
His laughter was soft and infectious, carefully designed to ease the tension, to shift the power dynamic back into his control.
But beneath that facade, Gideon was already plotting. Finnegan’s boldness was unexpected, but it revealed something important: there was a chink in his own armor. He was not eternally a child. He had impulses he did not fully understand but they would make the mods blush. Also, that Finnegan was not as harmless as he looked. Gideon did not know if Finn was pushing. Testing. Trying to corner him. If he was, that couldn’t be allowed. However, it was just as dangerous if this was truly innocent, this juvenile exchange between them. His feet were no longer firmly grounded and in his family, that was dangerous indeed.
He needed to change the subject. “Another riddle, hmm?” Gideon said, stepping just a little closer again, closing the distance Finnegan had tried to create. His voice lowered, soft and sweet. “What about this one: ‘I wear many faces, but only one is true. You think you’ve seen me, but I’m always watching you. What am I?’”
His smile widened slightly, the expression bright and innocent, though his eyes held an unmistakable glint of something darker. The game was shifting again, and this time, Gideon intended to dictate the rules.
“Go on,” he urged, his tone light and encouraging. “I’ll give you a hint if you need it.”
The heat from Finnegan’s touch lingered on his skin, and for the first time in recent memory, Gideon didn’t have a pre-loaded response ready to fire. He had built his facade on the foundation of juvenile innocence and while the unexpected gesture had the innocent flair of first love, it also marked the boundary between childish things and maturity. Gideon used his childish exterior as a shield and those that wished to protect the vulnerable youth like a sword.
What to do... What to do... What to do!
But Gideon Athanatos was nothing if not adaptable.
Recovering quickly, he let a faint blush creep into his cheeks, a masterful performance of bashful surprise. Although it did not take much effort he realized and as he did an unconscious deep red flush came over his cheeks as if he was holding his breath for too long. His smile returned, shy and endearing, as though the gesture had flustered him in the most innocent way. It had, but his response was in truth anything but innocent.
“Finn...y” he breathed, almost forgetting the cutesy suffix, his voice barely above a whisper. He clasped Finnegan’s hands in his own, tilting his head slightly as if trying to process what had just happened. In truth, he was buying time as he attempted to formulate a response. It would have been easiest to scream cooties and make a run for it. If George henry was nearby, he would have on impulse but this was Gideon's first kiss by someone that was not his mommy. His thoughts ended up landing on another, rather unfortunate thought - he found he was disappointed that the kiss was not on the lips. “You’re so sweet. I don’t know what to say.”
He gave a nervous laugh, stepping back just enough to reclaim a sliver of space, but not so far as to appear uncomfortable. His hands remained in Finnegan’s, swaying slightly as though they were merely two friends sharing a moment.
Inside, Gideon’s mind was a storm. Why did he do that? What does he want from me? Is he testing me? Trying to distract me? He couldn’t allow Finnegan to gain the upper hand. If this was a ploy, Gideon needed to turn it back against him—subtly, of course, without arousing suspicion. But what if it was not a ploy? Does that mean that they were dating? That they were in love? He did not have a scrunchie for Finnegan.
“You called me- Giddy your hero,” Gideon said softly, his tone almost wistful as he fought to stay in character. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to G-iddy before. It means a lot, Finn.” He squeezed the boy’s hands gently, his blue eyes searching Finnegan’s face for any sign of weakness or hidden intent. “You’re so brave, you know? Saying something like that. Doing something like that.”
He let out another nervous giggle, releasing one of Finnegan’s hands to adjust the frog scarf around his neck. He needed the distraction just then. “But you’ve got me all flustered now! You’re making me redder than you are!”The Hufflepuff exclaimed.
He was never given a chance to get his bearings as Finnegan pushed the narrative along. “I like playing games with you almost as much as I like you, Giddy. Oh, I just thought of another riddle, want to hear it? ...I’m looking very red in the face, who am I?”
Gideon tilted his head, giving a playful pout as he considered the riddle Finnegan had presented. “Hmm, let me think,” he said, his voice light and teasing. The it dawned on him, and the cherry hue returned to his face but he tried to repress it. Act as if he was surprised by the observation. “I think I’ve got it! Is it... you?” He gave an exaggerated gasp, his hand flying to his mouth. “No way, right? Because I think I’m the one blushing here!” He broke character again.
His laughter was soft and infectious, carefully designed to ease the tension, to shift the power dynamic back into his control.
But beneath that facade, Gideon was already plotting. Finnegan’s boldness was unexpected, but it revealed something important: there was a chink in his own armor. He was not eternally a child. He had impulses he did not fully understand but they would make the mods blush. Also, that Finnegan was not as harmless as he looked. Gideon did not know if Finn was pushing. Testing. Trying to corner him. If he was, that couldn’t be allowed. However, it was just as dangerous if this was truly innocent, this juvenile exchange between them. His feet were no longer firmly grounded and in his family, that was dangerous indeed.
He needed to change the subject. “Another riddle, hmm?” Gideon said, stepping just a little closer again, closing the distance Finnegan had tried to create. His voice lowered, soft and sweet. “What about this one: ‘I wear many faces, but only one is true. You think you’ve seen me, but I’m always watching you. What am I?’”
His smile widened slightly, the expression bright and innocent, though his eyes held an unmistakable glint of something darker. The game was shifting again, and this time, Gideon intended to dictate the rules.
“Go on,” he urged, his tone light and encouraging. “I’ll give you a hint if you need it.”
9 Dec 2024, 22:16
Wanna play?
The idea had first entered his mind almost a month ago, little more than a passing thought. Not the game, not the kiss, but a far simpler idea. I should talk to him. At face value, the very idea seemed insane, but time steadily whittled away at his objections.
It had taken over half a year for that possibility to even be considered, because it flew in the face of common sense. It could have been Gideon who had wielded the knife after all—it could have been. There was no certainty. Doubt had been allowed to fester and the more time passed, the hazier his memory of what had transpired became.
For the longest while he had pursued a strategy of avoidance, thinking that either Astra or Gideon would be dealt with appropriately by the Hogwarts staff. When neither seem to suffer any consequences for their actions, he had sheltered with Evelynn Decipio, and cowered in the near-abandoned Nundu Niche dormitory, who was to say his assailant did not wish to finish the job? Evelynn was smarter, older, wiser, and he had thought she could help. In a way she had, but she knew nothing about the way in which she'd helped the most. Her journal had proven to be a treasure trove of information, irresistable after he'd stolen a glimpse from it.
A steady diet of dreamless sleep had pacified him and returned a sense of normalcy, but in hindsight he had been dangerously trusting of Decipio. Evelynn had genuinely helped for a while, he supposed, even though she was deeply mentally disturbed. Her journal had proven that she was unhinged, possibly seeing and hearing things that others could not. Somehow he had remained unharmed throughout it all, though he could not be certain she had not been planning his demise while he slept; it would have been so easy for her to slip something else in with the Dreamless Sleep. Such thoughts too had taken time to emerge from the mind-fog.
One thing had become painfully clear at the start of the new year. Life had gone on, the students and staff had all but forgotten April’s events and although Jack Warren had been removed from the student body, no such punishment had been handed out to his assailant. The culprit, whoever it might be, was still at large. No one would be handing him the answers on a silver platter, he would have to get those answers himself.
The effect of the chaste kiss was far greater than he could have dared hope, but it was a blade that cut both ways. It had to be those fumes from potions class that were making him feel a little off-kilter and drowsy, like he was coming down fast from a sugar rush. The strangest thing happened, he had fully expected to feel like bleaching his lips and drink a bottle of soap, but that urge never came. In that moment, he could not help but think that Gideon was not a bad looking boy, that he could have picked worse. That was how he justified the bizarre lack of disgust to himself anway, no one could deny that the boy had an angelic look about him. It was fine, it was fine. Maybe he just had a thing for blondes.
If Finnegan had known just how much he had short-circuited Gideon Athanatos, he might have found the courage to double down. In truth, he knew far less about Gideon than he should and was blissfully unaware of the boy's sadistic tendencies. The boy's ocassional oddities had not escaped him, but all that was threatening to become static background noise when he was being smothered in compliments. Brave, sweet, he'd never particularly liked being called those things, but now he found he did not mind in the slightest.
In the end the swirling brew of mixed feelings came out shaped like a nervous bubble of laughter. "Not laughing at you," he was quick to explain. "I don't know why I'm laughing, why I did that-" Half-truths make the best lies. "But I'm glad you didn't mind," he concluded with a lopsided grin. When Gideon came up with another riddle, Finnegan passively withdrew his hands, stuffed them into his pockets and propped himself up against the stone wall next to Gideon. While he considered the riddle, he fired a quick glance at the suit of armour and silently hoped it wasn't going to be telling the rest of the armour sets about what it had just witnessed. It seemed unlikely that this was the first time students were kissing in this particular part of the castle though.
"OK, last one 'cause I don't know about you, but I'm starving and I'm drowning in assignments." A low rumble in his stomach confirmed the truth of that particular claim, and he was glad to have a feasible excuse to part ways soon. He needed some time and space to process all that Gideon had said and done since the moment he'd slung his arm over the boy's shoulders.
"I don't know, Gideon..." He frowned in concentration, scuffed his feet against the stone floor and even tried searching his pockets with his hands for an answer, but he found nothing there. "I'm not as smart as you. Do you know Elsian Cox? He calls me bludgerhead all the time and between you and me, he might have a point, but I'm better at sports than him so..."
After a short bout of silence he shrugged. "I'm clueless, unless you're the Deep State?" The playful smirk that followed made clear that he wasn't particularly serious about his answer. Now that he felt grounded again he decided to make his getaway at the soonest opportunity, though not before he had ensured he'd meet Gideon again. Maybe the Hufflepuff could be persuaded to go to Hogsmeade to get him a better scarf, something a bit less childish than Winnie's creation.
It had taken over half a year for that possibility to even be considered, because it flew in the face of common sense. It could have been Gideon who had wielded the knife after all—it could have been. There was no certainty. Doubt had been allowed to fester and the more time passed, the hazier his memory of what had transpired became.
For the longest while he had pursued a strategy of avoidance, thinking that either Astra or Gideon would be dealt with appropriately by the Hogwarts staff. When neither seem to suffer any consequences for their actions, he had sheltered with Evelynn Decipio, and cowered in the near-abandoned Nundu Niche dormitory, who was to say his assailant did not wish to finish the job? Evelynn was smarter, older, wiser, and he had thought she could help. In a way she had, but she knew nothing about the way in which she'd helped the most. Her journal had proven to be a treasure trove of information, irresistable after he'd stolen a glimpse from it.
A steady diet of dreamless sleep had pacified him and returned a sense of normalcy, but in hindsight he had been dangerously trusting of Decipio. Evelynn had genuinely helped for a while, he supposed, even though she was deeply mentally disturbed. Her journal had proven that she was unhinged, possibly seeing and hearing things that others could not. Somehow he had remained unharmed throughout it all, though he could not be certain she had not been planning his demise while he slept; it would have been so easy for her to slip something else in with the Dreamless Sleep. Such thoughts too had taken time to emerge from the mind-fog.
One thing had become painfully clear at the start of the new year. Life had gone on, the students and staff had all but forgotten April’s events and although Jack Warren had been removed from the student body, no such punishment had been handed out to his assailant. The culprit, whoever it might be, was still at large. No one would be handing him the answers on a silver platter, he would have to get those answers himself.
The effect of the chaste kiss was far greater than he could have dared hope, but it was a blade that cut both ways. It had to be those fumes from potions class that were making him feel a little off-kilter and drowsy, like he was coming down fast from a sugar rush. The strangest thing happened, he had fully expected to feel like bleaching his lips and drink a bottle of soap, but that urge never came. In that moment, he could not help but think that Gideon was not a bad looking boy, that he could have picked worse. That was how he justified the bizarre lack of disgust to himself anway, no one could deny that the boy had an angelic look about him. It was fine, it was fine. Maybe he just had a thing for blondes.
If Finnegan had known just how much he had short-circuited Gideon Athanatos, he might have found the courage to double down. In truth, he knew far less about Gideon than he should and was blissfully unaware of the boy's sadistic tendencies. The boy's ocassional oddities had not escaped him, but all that was threatening to become static background noise when he was being smothered in compliments. Brave, sweet, he'd never particularly liked being called those things, but now he found he did not mind in the slightest.
In the end the swirling brew of mixed feelings came out shaped like a nervous bubble of laughter. "Not laughing at you," he was quick to explain. "I don't know why I'm laughing, why I did that-" Half-truths make the best lies. "But I'm glad you didn't mind," he concluded with a lopsided grin. When Gideon came up with another riddle, Finnegan passively withdrew his hands, stuffed them into his pockets and propped himself up against the stone wall next to Gideon. While he considered the riddle, he fired a quick glance at the suit of armour and silently hoped it wasn't going to be telling the rest of the armour sets about what it had just witnessed. It seemed unlikely that this was the first time students were kissing in this particular part of the castle though.
"OK, last one 'cause I don't know about you, but I'm starving and I'm drowning in assignments." A low rumble in his stomach confirmed the truth of that particular claim, and he was glad to have a feasible excuse to part ways soon. He needed some time and space to process all that Gideon had said and done since the moment he'd slung his arm over the boy's shoulders.
"I don't know, Gideon..." He frowned in concentration, scuffed his feet against the stone floor and even tried searching his pockets with his hands for an answer, but he found nothing there. "I'm not as smart as you. Do you know Elsian Cox? He calls me bludgerhead all the time and between you and me, he might have a point, but I'm better at sports than him so..."
After a short bout of silence he shrugged. "I'm clueless, unless you're the Deep State?" The playful smirk that followed made clear that he wasn't particularly serious about his answer. Now that he felt grounded again he decided to make his getaway at the soonest opportunity, though not before he had ensured he'd meet Gideon again. Maybe the Hufflepuff could be persuaded to go to Hogsmeade to get him a better scarf, something a bit less childish than Winnie's creation.
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
9 Dec 2024, 22:48
Wanna play?
Gideon Athanatos was a master of two faces. One was the soft cherubic mask he wore to navigate the halls of Hogwarts, to charm professors and deflect suspicion. The other—the true Gideon—lurked beneath, calculating, cruel, and utterly devoid of empathy. At this moment, as Finnegan stumbled through his excuses and flashed that sheepish grin, both faces hovered in delicate balance.
The kiss had been unexpected. It was an intrusion, a transgression that Gideon would not have tolerated from anyone else. And yet, it intrigued him. Not because he felt flattered or moved—no, such emotions were foreign to him—but because it presented a new piece in the puzzle he was constructing. Finnegan’s boldness had rattled the manipulator, but it also forced the boy to consider what he would become when his youth faded.
This would be an opportunity, or it would have been, if not for the mention of him.
@Elsian Cox.
The name landed like a crack of thunder in Gideon’s mind, shattering his carefully constructed focus. He did not really know the loudmouth, he was not a keen spectator of sports, nor was he a social butterfly that demanded the attention of his lessers. He was of course thankful for Elsian of course, his callous, doltish decision to insult Finnegan would not go unpunished.
The mask didn’t slip—Gideon wouldn’t allow it—but something flickered in his eyes, a faint glint of malice that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Oh, Elsian,” Gideon said, his tone light and airy. “He calls you bludgerhead? That’s not very nice.” He giggled, the sound as sweet as honey, but there was a weight behind it, a suggestion that his laughter was at Elsian’s expense. “You’re much more clever than that, Finny. Don’t let him get under your skin,” not when you can wear his.
Gideon let the moment linger, carefully keeping his posture relaxed, his smile warm. Finnegan’s casual remarks were still spinning in his mind, pieces falling into place. Elsian Cox wasn’t just a nuisance—he was a liability. And liabilities needed to be... addressed.
“Oh, but I’m terrible at sports,” Gideon continued, changing the subject with practiced ease. He tucked his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, giving the impression of a harmless child. “Maybe you could teach me sometime? You’re so good at Quidditch; I bet you’d make a great teacher!” Remembering just then where he had hear the name before, Mathias had mentioned him. Mathias had a passion for quidditch, he never missed a match. Seeker. "Although," he added thoughtfully "Gryffindor needs a better seeker anyway."
Gideon filed away his new plan. He needed to deal with Elsian—quietly, subtly, in a way that couldn’t be traced back to him. Something that would make Elsian regret ever opening his mouth, not because he regretted it or was scared, but because his jaw was broken into pieces. but would leave Gideon free to deny involvement with an angelic shrug.
His mind raced through the possibilities. A hex in the corridor? No, too obvious. A cursed object slipped into Elsian’s belongings? Tempting, but it lacked elegance. No, he needed something more personal. Something that would unravel Elsian’s confidence and leave him vulnerable.
As they turned toward the Great Hall, Gideon made a mental note to retrieve an item he’d prepared weeks ago: a charmed quill. It was enchanted to twist the writer’s words into embarrassing admissions, which it would then “accidentally” copy onto public parchments. Nothing harmful—just humiliating. And once Elsian’s reputation took a hit, Gideon could decide whether to escalate further.
No, he would still be alive. He needed to do this right. Alas, for now, though, he would play the part of the perfect friend.
“Oh, Finny,” he chirped, linking his arm with Finnegan’s as they walked. “You really are the best. And don’t worry about the riddle—you’ll get it next time.”
Behind his cherubic smile, Gideon was already scripting Elsian’s downfall.
The kiss had been unexpected. It was an intrusion, a transgression that Gideon would not have tolerated from anyone else. And yet, it intrigued him. Not because he felt flattered or moved—no, such emotions were foreign to him—but because it presented a new piece in the puzzle he was constructing. Finnegan’s boldness had rattled the manipulator, but it also forced the boy to consider what he would become when his youth faded.
This would be an opportunity, or it would have been, if not for the mention of him.
@Elsian Cox.
The name landed like a crack of thunder in Gideon’s mind, shattering his carefully constructed focus. He did not really know the loudmouth, he was not a keen spectator of sports, nor was he a social butterfly that demanded the attention of his lessers. He was of course thankful for Elsian of course, his callous, doltish decision to insult Finnegan would not go unpunished.
The mask didn’t slip—Gideon wouldn’t allow it—but something flickered in his eyes, a faint glint of malice that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Oh, Elsian,” Gideon said, his tone light and airy. “He calls you bludgerhead? That’s not very nice.” He giggled, the sound as sweet as honey, but there was a weight behind it, a suggestion that his laughter was at Elsian’s expense. “You’re much more clever than that, Finny. Don’t let him get under your skin,” not when you can wear his.
Gideon let the moment linger, carefully keeping his posture relaxed, his smile warm. Finnegan’s casual remarks were still spinning in his mind, pieces falling into place. Elsian Cox wasn’t just a nuisance—he was a liability. And liabilities needed to be... addressed.
“Oh, but I’m terrible at sports,” Gideon continued, changing the subject with practiced ease. He tucked his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, giving the impression of a harmless child. “Maybe you could teach me sometime? You’re so good at Quidditch; I bet you’d make a great teacher!” Remembering just then where he had hear the name before, Mathias had mentioned him. Mathias had a passion for quidditch, he never missed a match. Seeker. "Although," he added thoughtfully "Gryffindor needs a better seeker anyway."
Gideon filed away his new plan. He needed to deal with Elsian—quietly, subtly, in a way that couldn’t be traced back to him. Something that would make Elsian regret ever opening his mouth, not because he regretted it or was scared, but because his jaw was broken into pieces. but would leave Gideon free to deny involvement with an angelic shrug.
His mind raced through the possibilities. A hex in the corridor? No, too obvious. A cursed object slipped into Elsian’s belongings? Tempting, but it lacked elegance. No, he needed something more personal. Something that would unravel Elsian’s confidence and leave him vulnerable.
As they turned toward the Great Hall, Gideon made a mental note to retrieve an item he’d prepared weeks ago: a charmed quill. It was enchanted to twist the writer’s words into embarrassing admissions, which it would then “accidentally” copy onto public parchments. Nothing harmful—just humiliating. And once Elsian’s reputation took a hit, Gideon could decide whether to escalate further.
No, he would still be alive. He needed to do this right. Alas, for now, though, he would play the part of the perfect friend.
“Oh, Finny,” he chirped, linking his arm with Finnegan’s as they walked. “You really are the best. And don’t worry about the riddle—you’ll get it next time.”
Behind his cherubic smile, Gideon was already scripting Elsian’s downfall.
OC: Elsian - if you are interested, I would like to do something to your broom and cause catastrophic injury. I am big on consent and would not send you to St. Mungos or the grave without your permission, but if interested, please reach out through Finn because I would like there to be a witness.