Secrets of The Nightingale Closed

⋄ Banner made by Winnie Harper ⋄
⋄ August 18th, 2024 | Eryri National Park (Snowdonia) ⋄
⋄ Interactions: @Finnegan Connor | Mentions: @Evelynn Decipio Courtesy tagging @Pericles Dralt⋄

𝓣he sum total of what she would tolerate waking up early for started and ended at Quidditch.

Mind you, she was quite excited about this trip. Hikes with her mum were something she looked forward to every year and had only become more cherished now that magic boarding school had stolen most of their opportunities away. The location was exciting as well; she’d only ever been down to Wales once, for a wedding in Knighton when she was barely out of diapers. She hardly remembered it at all, so the promise of a new place to explore was an appealing one.

Finn would be there, too. And, well, his dad of course, but like, Bex got to see old people every day, so that wasn't as exciting. While the past few months of banal normalcy and sleeping through the night had been a badly needed balm on her intensely frayed nerves, Evelynn's sleeping potions weren't exactly available now that she'd been plopped back into her Muggle family's home, and as such Bex's sleeping schedule had returned to one which a particularly kind observer could politely describe as "eclectic." With any luck, these upcoming days she had carved out to spend with Finnegan and his family would hopefully serve the dual purpose of both a nice palate cleanser from the stressors of home life, as well as, however futiley, ward against whatever she was sure would be coming for them in the long year to follow.

The obstacle of early rising, however, was not one that could be easily conquered through the power of friendship. When Bex awoke that morning, as bleary-eyed and grumpy as if she was a bear that had been dragged out of her well-earned hibernation, she was able to do little more than march in whatever direction her mum happened to point her. Thankfully, Meredith had been putting up with her daughter’s antics since birth and was intimately familiar with her various idiosyncrasies; the two of them had done most, if not all, of their prep work the night before, in preparation for Bex being lost to the ravages of the REM cycle.

“The sun’s not even out yet. This is inhumane.”

“This was your idea, love. Get moving.”

Packing for a hike was second nature at this point. Bex tended to pack heavy at the best of times, her multiple school trunks and overflowing book bag standing as perfect testaments to this. Traditionally, forgetting something she’d need on the hike was a rare occurrence; rather, she had an unfortunate penchant for wildly overpacking, and her mother tended to follow along after her, benevolently removing things like glow sticks and roller blades from her assembled to-be-packed supplies. Making sure you were well-equipped to survive with things like enough water, changes of clothes, matches, torches, and navigation tools, just as a start, meant that packing was a balancing act between having what you needed and not letting your gear encumber you to the point of circling back to being a danger to your safety. The fact that this was a multi-day hike, and they’d need to bring camping gear, meant that intentional, conservative packing had been a must.

Quietly, the two of them made their way downstairs, careful to not wake a still-sleeping Leo in his and Meredith’s bedroom, and collected their packs and gear before bundling themselves into the car.
After leaving Leeds, Bex, ever the exciting travel partner, was asleep almost immediately after departure, not waking up again until somewhere around Bala. Groggily, she took in their surroundings, attempting to get her bearings as she gazed out the window towards the river they were driving along.

“Well, good morning.” Her mother said, cheekily. “Thought you’d still be out in Snowdonia, I was ready to carry you up the trail in a baby backpack like when you were a toddler.”

Bex grumbled, unamused with the teasing this early in the morning (early by her standards, at least). “Do you know how much longer?” She asked. Her mum hummed in thought. “About thirty minutes or so, I’d say. Not a lot of civilization from this point on.”

Bex nodded, checking her phone and replying to the messages she’d gotten while she was asleep. She sent a quick “we’re alive and on the way” update selfie with her mum to both Leo and Finnegan, and then passed the remaining time in the traditional way of her people, i.e. watching tiktoks until it smoothed her brain out like a marble.

After parking their car, Bex, tired and defenseless, had no choice but to submit to the lifelong indignity of her mother fixing her hair, made significantly easier now that she’d had her mum cut it off just past her chin. It was the first time in her life that she’d ever worn her hair this short, and it had been a good two weeks into summer camp before she'd stopped getting jumpscared by her own face in the mirror.

The two of them left their non-essential belongings in the car and made their way up the trailhead to where Finnegan and his dad were waiting for them. It was much easier to be happy about being awake once she was out in the sunshine, the familiar hiking scents of pine needles, mud, and sunscreen reminding her that this was in fact something she liked to do, actually, and an activity that necessitated her being awake to enjoy it. Life was full of little compromises like that.

“It’s nice to meet you in person, Owen, and you, too, Finnegan.” Her mother said, extending her hand to each of them in turn. “Thanks for having us this week, Bex and I are excited for us all to be out here together.”

“Hullo, Finn. Hi, Mr Connor.”

“Rebecca.” Meredith said firmly, gently prodding her on the side. Bex grumbled, but acquiesced. “Thanks for coming on the hike with us.”

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
３ＲＤ ＹＥＡＲＧＲＹＦＦＩＮＤＯＲ

Secrets of The Nightingale 18th of August 2024

xx

While Owen busied himself studying the large sign and checking the map and compass he'd brought — he insisted on navigating the old-fashioned way — Finnegan had retrieved the most important item from the trunk of their car and bounced it on his knees. "Hundred-nine, ten, eleven, twe-" A double beep on his wrist-watch indicated that two minutes had passed. Just under his previous record for juggling the ball 117 times in two minutes, but considering he'd just come out of an hours long drive, he was pretty pleased. "Is that them?" his father called. "What?" "The moondust silver second generation Ford Focus." Finnegan followed his father's gaze toward the parking lot entrance where a car had just pulled up. "You're such a nerd." "A man has to know his cars. I think it's them, right on the dot." Finn shrugged. "I'll go look." Kicking the ball ahead of him, he sprinted across the parking lot, caught up with it, trapped the ball underfoot, and jumped up on a low, concrete slab to gain a little extra height so he could peer over the sea of cars. Oh it was them alright. He'd recognize Rebecca's cheeky face anywhere, even from a 100 meters away. "They're here!" he called over his shoulder. With a crack of his knees, he jumped off the slab, flicked the ball up into his arms and jogged his way back to his dad. Soon enough, two brown-haired heads came into view. One of the things that had elevated Rebecca high up the ranks of friendship was that she played football too and was actually quite good at it. Now that he saw her mam for the first time, there was little mystery to where she'd gotten the knack from. Meredith cut a compact, athletic figure, the type that probably considered a days-long hike through rugged terrain a relaxing activity. Her short brown hair was arranged in a modern, well-groomed pixie cut and Finnegan was reminded that Rebecca had mentioned her mother being a hairdresser. Feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden, he tried slicking his own hair back. His mum had tried motivating him to get a fresh cut while his sister eagerly played the bad cop: "you've got hair like a homeless person." The truth was somewhere in the middle, it had certainly grown out over the summer months and it was starting to get in his eyes, but it hadn't bothered him until now. When offered a handshake, he eagerly took it and answered with a bright "Pleased to meet you!" His dad was a bit more formal, opting for a sturdy, friendly shake and a, "You're very welcome. How was the drive up?" Followed by a, "hello Rebecca, or is it Bex?" The slightly forced 'thanks' Meredith prodded out of Rebecca elicited a hearty laugh from Owen. "You're very welcome to it, mind." Once his dad had let go off her hand, Finn seized his opportunity to greet her by launching himself at her for a tight but fleeting hug. "Bex!" he'd already pulled away and retreated a pace to let her breathe again. "Look what I got!" With a grin he bounced his ball off of her, then dropped it at her feet. "Did you practice that trickshot I showed you?" That meant the video he'd taken off himself in the backyard, trying to talk over the wind noises while his phone kept falling over. Owen threw a telling look at Meredith and subtly motioned her away from the children for a sidebar. "The weather's looking good, but I am not sure about the second day, might be a bit too much climbing for them, especially if they burn themselves out today." Large hands put the plasticized map down on the trunk of the Land Rover and a thick, weathered finger traced along the trail. "If that happens, we can cut across here, drop by the 1085 bistro. Hot chocolate does wonders. On the other hand, I've promised a bit of survivalling, bit of bushcrafting, so I don't want to pamper them too much." He certainly looked like he had prepared for apocalypse, with his red-and-black flannel shirt tucked into his rugged jeans and a large knife on his belt. "How d'you feel about their phones? Finn has his charged and packed, but I told him 'only for emergencies', I did." @Rebecca Lark

xx

Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 17

⋄ Banner made by Winnie Harper ⋄
⋄ August 18th, 2024 | Eryri National Park (Snowdonia) ⋄
⋄ Interactions: @Finnegan Connor | Mentions: @Pericles Dralt and @Aly Salinger Courtesy tagging @Evelynn Decipio⋄

𝓢ummertime made her feel more in a way she couldn't quite put into words. Underneath the sun, she expanded into something greater than the sum of her parts, like the true self had been lying dormant, buried beneath the Earth, and was finally able to crawl its way out of the dirt as it softened. It was hard not to grieve what had been lost of the season while she was at camp; she'd never be able to find it in her heart to forgive the other organizers for voting in winter as their theme. It was Machiavellian, a crime the likes of which they'd still be trying to shrug off the ramifications of for generations to come.

Hiking was a nostalgic activity, something she'd been doing with her mother (and with her Grandma Becca as well, when she'd still been alive) since before she could even walk, and there was an old photograph on their staircase of her mum carrying her in a Baby Bjorn on the Catbells trail to prove it. It was as familiar as breathing, a form of comfort so intrinsic that she didn't even realize that it was there.

Bex's own mother was fairly young to be the parent of a twelve-year-old, with both of Bex's parents having hardly been out of school for more than a year when she had come along, but Finnegan's dad looked more like the ones on TV, grey-haired and laugh-lined, and with a certain rugged quality about him that made him look right at home on the trail. She shrugged in response to his introductory question. Where once the question of her name and the variations of it had felt tender and soft, time had slowly healed the bruised aching of it. Pericles' fond nickname of Becca had stuck, and she found herself not minding it nearly as much as she would have expected. There was only one name left you couldn't call her, and no one ever did.

"Whichever you'd like, 's fine. Rebecca or Bex. Or Becca."

She left the adults to sort out their pleasantries, turning to give Finn her whole attention as he threw himself at her in a hug. Finn's hugs tended to be brief but breathless, like being hit in the chest with a poorly-aimed football. It appeared he'd brought a football with him as well, should they be so inclined as to complete the metaphor, though Bex vastly prefered the hug.

She had indeed practised the trickshot he'd sent her videos of, though she hadn't found herself particularly skilled at it. She'd always tended to be a more of a blunt force player than a finesse one, which is why her skills had translated so well to beater in the absence of any sort of proper football setup at Hogwarts. She was a good football player, sure, but Finnegan was something else entirely. While she felt no particular sting in that, as she tended towards appreciation more than jealousy when other people were good at the things she enjoyed, she'd still never tell him, lest his head swell so large that they'd end up having to shoot him down over Norwich.

"I did! I'm sure you'll be very proud to hear that I kicked the ball too hard and killed some of Leo's zinnias."

Had Finn... done something with his hair? She wasn't sure. It was longer, and he looked vaguely like some sort of street urchin, but that was mostly normal for him. It looked as though he'd haphazardly tried to slick it back or style it, though, which was odd. She hoped he understood what hiking was, or else he'd be in for a rough wakeup call. She'd left her own chin-length curls down for the time being, but had a couple of hair ties on her wrist at the ready for when she'd surely end up needing them.

Their respective parents, meanwhile, had pulled themselves away to stare at a map and make vague parent-esque noises about it. "It may be best to plan to leave early tomorrow then, just in case. I'll leave you in charge of telling Bex that we're calling the hike early, then, should that time come." Meredith quipped, good-naturedly. "She's never much liked being told she can't handle something." She nodded in agreement with his assessment of phones. "I haven't let Bex go on any of the longer hikes quite yet, not until she's older, but she's been on enough that she knows the basics, and should know better than to whine. No TikTok 'til the end of the trail, or you're on your own if you get distracted and fall into a ravine."

Bex, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to pass along Finnegan's birthday gift before they left sight of the cars, so as to not end up having to carry it with them up the mountain. While being at home meant that she at least had access to actual wrapping paper, unlike when she'd given Aly her birthday gift, all her wrapping attempts had ended up shoddy at best and absolutely unforgivable at worst, so she'd eventually called it and just shoved the homemade gifts into a cheery, yellow gift bag. She bestowed it upon the older boy with a little ta-da hand gesture. "Happy Birthday, Finn."

Inside were three gifts, though she supposed only two of them were actually for Finn. The first was more of a gift for his Silver Arrow, a passing idea she'd had that had stuck with her, and become a sort of outlet for her fears and anxiety post-Ball. She tended to decorate her own broom before practises and games, though typically much simpler than what she'd made for Finnegan, as she usually tended to just tie ribbons in various shades of blue into the brush and leave it at that. The broom-charm she'd made for Finn's Silver Arrow, though, was hand-woven and intricate, a cascading twist of red and gold embroidery floss that tapered off at each end, with one end secured with a simple golden bead, leaving enough loose thread for him to securly tie the charm to his broom, and the other deocarated with a painted wooden lion, a custom bead she'd ordered off etsy with some of her long-hoarded Christmas money.

The first of the gifts that were actually for Finn was inarguably much simpler, for the sole reason that she hadn't ever used it as her daily coping-craft. A much more traditional friendship bracelet in style, it too was Gryffindor red and gold to match, with two little charms she'd selected at Hobbycraft: a little wooden painted football, and a shiny metallic sun that you could just barely see your reflection in when you held it up close.

The last gift was every sweet that had been unceremoniously rejected by her over the course of summer camp, a treasure trove of chocolates, lollies, and Bertie Bott's, re-gifted to someone who'd be much more appreciative.

Once gifts had been safely stowed away, they began their trek up the trail, which was thankfully uneventful (beyond a few fun wildlife sightings) in a way that few things were these days. Before they knew it, it was time to set up camp for the night. Working together, they set up two tents: one for the Lark-Ishidas, and one for the Connors. The campfire was set up and marshmallows were secured, and the children were largely left to their own devices as the adults spoke in low tones, ironing out the next day's plan by lamplight.

Bex occupied herself by committing a crime against humanity, systematically stabbing a veritable parade of marshmallows, only to stick them directly into the fire, watching them burn and fall off the stick into the flames, without ever eating a single one. She felt soft and loose-limbed in a way she never did at school, as though the hike had slowly worn away at all her edges with sandpaper. Face illuminated by the soft glow of the fire, she turned to Finn and said, "I wish we could spend time together like this more often. As muggles, I mean."

Reducio

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
３ＲＤ ＹＥＡＲＧＲＹＦＦＩＮＤＯＲ

Secrets of The Nightingale 18th of August 2024

xx

Finnegan watched in horror as Rebecca casually incinerated four more marshmallows. The fluffy white puffs of sugar caught fire, burned and sagged, then fell into the embers with a hiss, leaving only a blackened stick. If he hadn't been too busy licking his fingers clean, he would have intervened. He'd never minded Rebecca's utter lack of interest in sweets—more for him—but that didn't excuse burning them. Still, he wasn't keen on kicking off an argument and let a disapproving, practiced eye-roll do the talking. Rebecca’s birthday gifts lay near his bag, and he’d already spent all day puzzling over the intricately braided charm meant for his Silver Arrow. Its colors—Gryffindor red and gold—were obvious enough, and he liked the little lion bead at the end, but what exactly it was for? A weapon? A wand cozy? An anklet? He decided it was safest to simply pretend he knew what it was and thanked her profusely. "Thanks, this is great!" He had said. She could have handed him a jar of flubberworms and he would've said the same. The sweets were simpler. He’d already ripped into a bag of licorice wands and by afternoon had his sights set on the massive block of Honeydukes chocolate. She had brought the good stuff alright, and Finnegan shamelessly indulged his ferocious sweet tooth. Fuelled by the sugar rush, they made it three-quarters through the trail before he begun to whinge about his legs hurting and if they were there yet. The football he'd brought was less cooperative. He’d insisted on bringing it, arguing with his dad about how essential it was for keeping up his skills. A few hours into the hike he’d realized it was a burden. He’d tried bouncing it along the trail for a while, but the winding paths were not well suited for it. Carrying it under his arm got irritating quick, and stuffing it somewhere in his bag left an awkward bulge pressing against his back. Any complaints, of course, were dismissed with an I-told-you-so look from his dad. Still, the hike was pleasant enough. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and moss. Between craggy peaks, heather and gorse painted the hillsides in gold and purple, and a ribbon of silvery water wound through the valley below, catching the late summer light. By the time they made camp he was getting tired and grumpy and Rebecca got to witness the strange back-and-forth dynamic between father and son. The former remained the picture of stoic calm, seemingly refreshed and energized by the long walk rather than tired from it. The latter had grown increasingly quiet, except for loudly dragging his feet on those last few miles and sighing deeply every other step. "Can't we stop here?" escalated into "why do you want to make us suffer?" and "my legs really hurt, dad! Are you trying to kill us? I guess I'll never play football again..." and other such complaints until Owen, at long last, had determined that the edge of a small clearing, overlooking a wide valley below, was the perfect place to make camp. "Finally..." Finn had groaned and dropped dead to the ground, only to be pulled up and instructed to pitch the tent. The argument that threatened to erupt was smothered by several sharp words and a wagging finger from Owen, a polite distance away from Rebecca and Meredith. Though he did not seem very happy doing it, Finnegan eventually got around to setting up the tent, but played for time to let others do the cooking. Thankfully, his mood improved markedly after dinner, though he remained quieter than usual for much of the early evening. As the firelight flickered against the trees, Finnegan poked a stick into the dirt and wondered how to convince his dad to let him and Rebecca sleep outside. He had a reason, though one that couldn't be shared. There was something he needed to tell Rebecca—something that couldn't be uttered while his dad or her mum were within earshot. "I wish we could spend time together like this more often. As muggles, I mean." "Hmm?" He was pulled from his thoughts by Rebecca's voice and shrugged. "I suppose..." For a while there was only the soft crackling of the fire and sound of his stick, drawing doodles into the dirt. "I don't mind being away from school," he added, "but I don't think I'd trade it, though. Not really. We're very lucky, you know. We can do things other people can only dream of, like flying and-" He hesitated, flashed a faint smile, then returned to prodding the ground with his stick. "I wouldn't want to miss out on flying, would you?" Some part of him knew she had a point though. Muggle life seemed a lot simpler than Hogwarts, less mortal danger, more brainrot. Finnegan twirled the stick in his hand, lost in his thoughts for a while, then jumped up suddenly. "Dad?" Across the campfire, Owen glanced up from his thermos of tea, his brow lifting in mild curiosity. He was settled in his fold-up chair, legs stretched out comfortably and one hand loosely gripping the steaming metal flask. Meredith was beside him, their conversation having lulled into companionable quiet. "Aye?" "Can Rebecca and I sleep outside tonight?" Finnegan cast a quick, telling look over his shoulder at his friend, warning her not to say anything. "Outside?" "Yeah! I mean, you're always going on about being outdoors, right? And this is... it'll be like survivaling, like survival practice!" He knew how to persuade his dad, except of course, the man didn't really need all that much persuading to begin with. Owen lowered the thermos and narrowed his eye, somewhat bemused by Finnegan's sudden enthusiasm for survivaling. "Survival practice," he repeated, pretending to consider the request, even though he had already made up his mind. "What do you think?" Owen looked to Meredith for her approval. "I've brought a bit of plastic tarp with me, if you can find a good flat spot-" "-thanks dad!" "Wait-" Owen protested, but Finnegan had already whipped around, grabbed Rebecca's limp arm and pulled her away to look for the tarp. "There's something I need to show you," Finnegan whispered while he tried to drag her along. "But not now." "Finn!" his dad's voice called. He halted, groaned, and slowly turned around. "Yeah?" "Don't you think Rebecca should have a say too? Or Meredith?" Owen curled his finger, beckoning him back over, and Finn begrudingly obliged. "So what do you think?" Owen inquired, looking between Rebecca and Meredith. @Rebecca Lark

xx

Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 17

⋄ Banner made by Winnie Harper ⋄
⋄ August 18th, 2024 | Eryri National Park (Snowdonia) ⋄
⋄ Interactions: @Finnegan Connor | Mentions: @Pericles Dralt Courtesy tagging @Evelynn Decipio⋄

𝓣his world was full of haters, and chief among them was Finnegan Connor, one of her dearest friends and her undisputed biggest opp. At his eyeroll she stuck her tongue out at him before thrusting another marshmallow-soldier into the burning pits of hell to face the judgement of its God.

Finn didn't mind being at school, apparently. She wasn't sure what, exactly, he thought they were so lucky about. So many people talked about the magical world like it was something special, something greater than the muggle world, and Bex just couldn't see it. Her home was here. Or, it used to be, at least. Some days, it felt like there was now a giant glowing question mark where a life used to reside. It was a thought too big to hold in her hands, too big to form in her mouth.

Instead: "No. I wouldn't want to miss out on flying. I could take or leave everything else, though."

She tilted her head back to watch Finnegan's conversation with his Dad. Finn's mood had certainly seemed to bounce back with the advent of settling in for the night, food and rest doing wonders to recharge their severely depleted Finnegan battery supplies. Finn had been less and less fond of their hike the farther along into it they'd gotten, which had rapidly alternated between being exhausting and absolutely hilarious. Her mum's relentless efforts to force her into appropriate hike packing may have been annoying, but now she finally got to see the results of a more laissez-faire approach firsthand, as Finnegan first devoured half the sweets she'd procured for him before marching his way up the trail, football in hand.

And oh, what a mistake it had been for him, the hubris of a sugar-addled newly thirteen-year-old boy on full display for all and sundry. His once boundless energy slowly deflated over the course of the hike; Bex had long practice with aiming for endurance, a hiking skill that Finnegan had very clearly yet to develop. If anything, the hike seemed to energize her even more, the easy familiarity and blissful freedom of the outdoors compensating for any dips in mood that physical tiredness would have normally invoked.

"Can't we stop here?" Finnegan whinged, his plaintive beseechment to his dad falling on deaf ears, "why do you want to make us suffer?"

"Stop now?" Bex asked, making a show of cheerfully jogging up ahead of him. "We've barely gone anywhere, this is only the first day. Are you tired already?" Finnegan would be well within his rights to shove her into a bush, though he'd have to catch her first, and she didn't have a football weighing her down.

Now, back at camp, he was as spirited as he'd ever been, and had a certain energy about him that Bex had become intimately familiar with over the course of their friendship: Finnegan had a plan.

Why he wanted to sleep outside was beyond her, though she had few objections to it. She liked being able to see the stars, and feeling the cool night breeze as it traipsed across her skin. If they were lucky, there might be some fireflies out and about, though they hadn't brought any jars to catch them, as they wouldn't have fit in the hiking packs. So, generally speaking, she was agreeable to sleeping outside in the abstract; the only snag was that Finnegan-plans tended to have a moderate rate of injury and a high rate of embarrassment where Bex was concerned.

Her mum looked amused rather than concerned by the whole affair, which she supposed was a good signs in terms of her survival of whatever scheme Finn was cooking up. She wasn't given much room to argue, even if she wanted to, though, as Finn grabbed her arm and relentlessly tugged her along in pursuit of the tarp. "Slow down." She hissed, tugging her arm out of his grasp, more out of principle than out of any real desire to resist. "What am I supposed to be surviving here, you pulling me over the cliff?"

"There's something I need to show you," he whispered back, "But not now."

She blinked owlishly at him. "Why can't you show me now?" Owen neatly answered that question for her, though, calling over to the two of them. No matter how mature and adult the two of them may have felt, they were still very much being watched and managed; if Finn didn't want to tell her now, then he likely didn't want their parents to know. What was he hiding from them?

"Don't you think Rebecca should have a say too? Or Meredith?"

Meredith took a long look at Bex, presumably watching on the machinery of her face creak and whir. Rebecca had never been a particularly difficult read. "You good with roughing it, bug?"

Bex nodded. "If Finn wants to sleep in the dirt, that's fine, I guess."

"Alright then." Meredith replied. "I'm alright with it if you are, Owen, so long as they both stay in full view of the tent. Don't wander off, and don't stay up too late; I want us to get an early start in the morning."

Once they were alone - or at least as alone as they could be, while still complying with Meredith's caveat - Finnegan would find himself on the tail end of the Pericles Dralt treatment, and received no quarter from Bex's incessant poking. "Tell me, tell me. Finn, I'm dying."

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
３ＲＤ ＹＥＡＲＧＲＹＦＦＩＮＤＯＲ

Secrets of The Nightingale 18th of August 2024

xx

Owen watched Finnegan skip away with a bemused smile. Once the two of them were out of earshot, he languidly turned to Meredith and let out a low, resonant chuckle. "What do you reckon they're up to?" It was the way of the world for children to think they could keep secrets and for adults to smile knowingly behind their backs. Even before the trip, Owen suspected the two them were close. Mentions of "Bex" had risen steeply in the Connor household against mentions of "June", which had plummeted to historic lows. On the way to Snowdonia National Park he had carefully inquired about the exact nature of their friendship, but had been met with dismissive grunts and eyerolls. Seeing them together had forced him to shift his thinking. There was no hand-holding, no bashful smiles, no whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. If anything, it resembled the kind of friendships Finn had had before Hogwarts, boyish roughhousing, excited chatter, racing, throwing playful jabs; the stuff of deep friendship, not the flustered awkwardness of young love. "I've been meaning to say, Meredith," Owen said, "I'm really glad you guys came along." He kept his voice low while Finnegan struggled with the tarp a little ways away from the campfire. After a careful sip from his tea he eyed her again, a pensive look on his face. "I was a bit worried this Summer, when Finn came back home, he wasn't himself. I shrugged it off at first, could just be growing up right?" The fold-up chair creaked as he shifted his weight. "Could be anything, could be having to readjust, right?" His dark eyes narrowed while he observed Finn standing conspiratorially close to Rebecca for a short time, another secret being exchanged no doubt. "That wasn't it thought. I just knew it wasn't. He was very quiet, and that's just not like him at all, as I'm sure you've might've noticed." Another chuckle sounded before he resumed, "I think it's school, Meredith and I'll be honest: I never much liked the idea of putting my son in any kind of boarding school, much less this one, but the wife, why you know how they can be, she persuaded me, she's good at that. She said it'd be the best thing for him." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "The best thing..." What did that even mean? How could she even have known? "I had my doubts, but set them aside. It would not hurt to try, I thought. I did not have doubts for a while, but they're coming back, Meredith, I can feel it in my bones." He leaned back in the flimsy fold-up chair and sighed, "What do they call us again? Muffles?" He paused for a short while, letting the silence do the talking. "I sent a happy little boy to school, this summer I got a quiet, depressed one back. I don't know what happened, but something has, something he isn't telling me. I hardly even recognized him, I did. This," he looked at Meredith again, "today has been the first time all summer that I'm seeing my son again. Warts and all." After a final sip of tea and a long sigh, he asked. "What about Rebecca? You notice anything unusual this summer? I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, I just don't know who else to ask." --- "Tell me, tell me. Finn, I'm dying." "Not until lights are out," he whispered back. After that, he made no further mention of what he intended to show her. Instead, he played at Boy Scout and explained to her why the spot he'd picked for the tarp was perfect. "It's flat, see? And no twigs or rocks, you've got to clear those first or you'll have something sticking in your back all night." Did he seriously think she was interested in where to put a plastic tarp down, or was he just filling the silence with noise? Eventually, inevitably, Bex would have to catch on that it was the latter. While she kept on dying, he hurried along to get ready for bed, chatting her ears of. Silence, Finnegan reasoned, would just put his dad on alert. He'd barely gotten the green light with his unbelievably lame and cripple excuse as to why he wanted to sleep outside. The worst thing was, his dad probably thought he wanted to bump uglies because, that that was why he insisted they sleep outside. Such was 'orrid fate of turning thirteen, the age of hormone-fueled obssesions. Allegedly. What his dad didn't know was that he had far bigger concerns than girl's chests. Sat on the tarp, he looked up at Rebecca and considered she and it were rather alike in flatness. "You're lucky you're not thirteen yet, it's a bad number, it is. Thirteen's the worst, really, and I reckon it's only going to get worse from yur on out, like. I mean, I don't feel different at all, but you can't get away with anything anymore. The other day, right, one of the neighbours' kids came over and he's about eight, he is, so we're playing a game and I beat him, and he turns and says 'you're a cheat' and I said 'you're just pissed you lost' and then he went all wide-eyed and said 'my mum says you're foul-mouthed' and I told him 'you're just shite at the game.', he says 'you can't say that', I said 'I just did', then he got angry and I told him he's a tubby little cunt and he should piss off. So the next day, I had to go and tell him I'm sorry, and his mum too and I had to clean their gutter for them, just because he lost, can you believe that? It was really hot out too, hottest it's been all yur and I was in agony I was." While he chatted on and on, filling the airwaves with idle banter, he put his sleeping pad down, deployed his sleeping bag and rummaged around for toiletries. Showering wasn't an option, so he made do with wet, scented paper wipes and some splashes of water from a bottle. The rest of his banter was a lot harder to follow, though the ocassional yelp-like noise at least indicated that he had just mentioned another grave injustice that had befallen him. Normally, half his storytelling was done with his hands, but considering he needed one to brush his teeth, that too became an unreliable source of narration. It wasn't until he saw Owen and Meredith retreating into their own tents each that he slowed down a bit and a more serious expression came over his face. Once he was done brushing his teeth, he kicked off his shoes, slipped out of his shirt and trousers and went digging through his bag like a squirrel, searching for his PJs. Of course they were at the bottom, because why would he pack them at the top? Like a mole he dug around blindly in the semi-dark looking for them. "Can you hold this, please?" He handed Bex a leather-bound book. "...where is it... should be here somewhere..." he could be heard muttering to himself when he stuck his head back into his bag. A sudden change in lighting darkened their surroundings. The dim, diffused light-through-canvas from Owen's tent had gone out and Meredith's quickly followed. "Great, now I can't see shit. Wait- no, here..." Pulling out a flashlight, he blindly reached out behind him and waited until Rebecca would take it. There was a bit more rummaging, then a deflated sigh, and then the sound of a zipper opening and closing. He rolled onto his side, facing Bex and motioned his chin toward the book and the flashlight. "We'll need those later, just not yet, let's wait until they're asleep..." For a short while it seemed as though their waiting time would have to be spent in silence. But when his eyes had adjusted to the dark a bit, Finnegan spoke up again, his voice a breathy whisper. "I've been thinking about what you said earlier. About this," he gestured vaguely around using his eyes. "You are right... I'm glad to be away from school..." There was a soft rustling noise as he moved around in his sleeping bag. "I'm glad we're here. Glad you're here. Oh!" The sudden smile on his face was hardly visible in the dark. "Where's your arm? I need your arm, please?" If she would oblige, he would clasp something on her wrist. "I didn't know you were going to get me a friendship bracelet, but I had brought one too. I guess we're really friends now that we both have one..." While his decision to hand her his bracelet in the dark was questionable, it was the thought that counted. After a few more minutes of waiting, he stirred again, crawled out of his sleeping bag, very nearly stepped on Rebecca's hair, and zipped his sleeping bag open. "Get the flashlight." He draped his unzipped sleeping bag over the both of them like a blanket, a shield against any light that would otherwise have spilled out. After he had scooted over close to Rebecca, he reached out to grasp the book he had handed her earlier and moved it into the cone of light. "This is someone's journal from school which I found. It's full of... well, maybe it's best if I show you." By now he had studied Evelynn's journal so thoroughly that it didn't take him more than a few seconds to find and point out the pages about @Pericles Dralt and himself. "There's pages like that, pages of people with their every detail recorded. You're in it too, look." He leaned over to skip many pages ahead before he found it. "That's far from the weirdest thing though. There's a section on the Halloween Ball of 2019 and guess what? There was an accident. Blossom Ball of 2019? Again, an accident. Same with the Masquerade ball. Students attacked by part-giants, students kidnapped, someon called Galton getting poisoned, it just goes on and on..." Reducio Below is a highly summarized version of things that can be read in Evelynn's journal. For more details or extensive descriptions, talk to Eve: Halloween ball 2019: - Students were attacked by part-giants. - Dan Palmer killed one, another escaped (presumably a hag who can polymorph). Blossom ball 2019: - Attempted kidnapping. - Mask and glove stolen from the Department of Mysteries (controls people). - Ben Eckenrode affected by the mask and glove. - Harry Potter and partner VanCleaf investigated the theft. Masquerade ball 2019: - Galton is poisoned. - Galton knows August VanCleaf. Hag stuff: - Two hag covens fought (forest and castle dungeons). - Both covens destroyed; some hags escaped. - Hags suspected (by Evelynn) to be involved in Muggle attacks, using Draught of the Living Death. - Harry Potter believed to be framed for murder of Dolores Umbridge (faked death with the Draught of the Living Death). - Hags made deals with students, sealed with a kiss. - Mirror breaking on Halloween caused pain and reflection distortions in connected individuals. - Thomas Lestrange collaborated with hags, went missing, and returned with a tattoo. Halloween costume party incident: - Doll resembling Breanna tried to kill her; other dolls targeted students they resembled. - Poisoned candies sold by Athanatos, containing love potions. Lear's disappearance: - Missing since the ball. - Office ransacked, mysterious letters found (hinting at secrets and dark potions). Umbridge's "Murder": - Allegedly murdered by Finnley. Harry Potter convicted for her murder; framed, Evelynn beleives, due to the investigation into the mask and gloves. Dark artifacts: - Mask and glove can control others. - Potter and VanCleaf were searching for these artifacts. @Rebecca Lark

xx

Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 17