1 Dec 2024, 19:20
The Shadow in the Dungeons
The Great Hall was alive with its usual dinner time clamor—laughter, the clinking of goblets, and the hum of conversations echoing off the high, enchanted ceiling. But Aamon barely noticed. He sat at the far end of the Slytherin table, his fork idly pushing peas around his plate. He knew better than to eat the food so he never did but he often placed a little something on his plate to at the very least blend in with his peers. He had eaten a protein bar on his way into the Great Hall and enjoyed a thermos of spring water he had packed in his trunk before he had even arrived. He wasn't hungry, the consumption was nothing more than a habit. His appetite smothered by the oppressive sensation that had settled on his chest like a weight.
The feeling had returned. That crawling awareness, the prickling sensation at the back of his neck. He didn’t dare turn around—he never did—but he could feel it. Eyes watching him. Following him. He knew that they were out there, the dolls, plotting their next cruel move. After his encounter at the border of the forbidden wood, he was more than nervous, he was utterly terrified of those dolls that seemed to always find his way back to his dorm no matter how far he had carried them or how destructive he thought the flames, or the drowning should have been. He did not understand the magic that empowered them, only that they were enduring and that he was rightfully terrified. However, that was not the reason for the feeling on this day, little did Aamon know. There was a recent Daily Prophet Article announcing Winnifred Harper's engagement to his older brother Mathias Pride, naming the boy an Athanatos adjacent, revealing one of Mathias' more closely kept secrets. Mathias had earned his share of enemies and they now new of a weak spot, Aamon.
Aamon swallowed hard, his gaze darting around the room. The hall was full, bustling with students and staff. Yet even surrounded by so many people, Aamon felt as though he were alone. Alone except for… them.
The dolls.
Foolish enough to believe he knew the source of trepidation within his heart, this keen sixth sense that would drive him from his seat. He never considered the later, that one such as Percival Grey would be on his heels armed with more information than he had any right to. Aamon was fixated on the dolls. The dolls hadn’t shown themselves openly since that night by the forest, but he could still sense them. Lurking. Waiting. Always just out of sight, but never far enough away. Tonight, the feeling was stronger. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Abruptly, Aamon pushed back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the stone floor. A few nearby students glanced at him, but he didn’t care. He mumbled something about not feeling well and slipped out of the hall before anyone could stop him. If Percival was at the table, this would be afine opportunity for the elder boy to follow.
The corridors were quieter with the rest of the students in the great hall, the flickering torches casting long, shifting shadows on the cold stone walls. Aamon’s footsteps echoed as he hurried down the stairs toward the dungeons, his pulse pounding in his ears. He barely registered the chill in the air as he descended deeper, his mind consumed by a single thought: get to the dorms.
The Slytherin common room felt like the only place he could be safe. The walls were thick, the door sealed tight, and the shadows that clung to him couldn’t follow where no one else could enter. He could seal his dormitory door behind him. Lock out the intrusions of those mischievous toys.
He quickened his pace, his breaths coming short and fast. He swore he heard faint footsteps behind him, mirroring his own rather than a skitter. No… it’s just your imagination. Don’t look back. He tried to reason, but the thought did little to calm him.
Turning a corner sharply, Aamon rushed down the hall towards the common room. He just needed to get into the dorm he reminded himself. He fumbled with the knob, his fingers feeling numb. He could hear footfalls growing louder.
Someone was coming.
He did not feel fear, but perhaps he should have. They might hesitate if he was not alone as long as the other did not place himself in a precarious position. He would pause and wait to see who emerged around the corner. As long as it wasn’t a doll—one of those lifeless, painted faces that he feared, it would be fine he seemed to try to self-soothe. Assuming Grey: This was a person. A stranger. Human, by all appearances. But in the dim light of the dungeons, their presence felt no less unsettling.
Aamon froze, his heart hammering as he tried to decide whether to run, confront them, or simply hope they weren’t another trick of his imagination.
“H—h'ello?” he called out, the inflection of a shaky question. His hand twitched toward his wand, ready, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he would do if this stranger turned out to be something worse than the things he already feared.
The feeling had returned. That crawling awareness, the prickling sensation at the back of his neck. He didn’t dare turn around—he never did—but he could feel it. Eyes watching him. Following him. He knew that they were out there, the dolls, plotting their next cruel move. After his encounter at the border of the forbidden wood, he was more than nervous, he was utterly terrified of those dolls that seemed to always find his way back to his dorm no matter how far he had carried them or how destructive he thought the flames, or the drowning should have been. He did not understand the magic that empowered them, only that they were enduring and that he was rightfully terrified. However, that was not the reason for the feeling on this day, little did Aamon know. There was a recent Daily Prophet Article announcing Winnifred Harper's engagement to his older brother Mathias Pride, naming the boy an Athanatos adjacent, revealing one of Mathias' more closely kept secrets. Mathias had earned his share of enemies and they now new of a weak spot, Aamon.
Aamon swallowed hard, his gaze darting around the room. The hall was full, bustling with students and staff. Yet even surrounded by so many people, Aamon felt as though he were alone. Alone except for… them.
The dolls.
Foolish enough to believe he knew the source of trepidation within his heart, this keen sixth sense that would drive him from his seat. He never considered the later, that one such as Percival Grey would be on his heels armed with more information than he had any right to. Aamon was fixated on the dolls. The dolls hadn’t shown themselves openly since that night by the forest, but he could still sense them. Lurking. Waiting. Always just out of sight, but never far enough away. Tonight, the feeling was stronger. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Abruptly, Aamon pushed back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the stone floor. A few nearby students glanced at him, but he didn’t care. He mumbled something about not feeling well and slipped out of the hall before anyone could stop him. If Percival was at the table, this would be afine opportunity for the elder boy to follow.
The corridors were quieter with the rest of the students in the great hall, the flickering torches casting long, shifting shadows on the cold stone walls. Aamon’s footsteps echoed as he hurried down the stairs toward the dungeons, his pulse pounding in his ears. He barely registered the chill in the air as he descended deeper, his mind consumed by a single thought: get to the dorms.
The Slytherin common room felt like the only place he could be safe. The walls were thick, the door sealed tight, and the shadows that clung to him couldn’t follow where no one else could enter. He could seal his dormitory door behind him. Lock out the intrusions of those mischievous toys.
He quickened his pace, his breaths coming short and fast. He swore he heard faint footsteps behind him, mirroring his own rather than a skitter. No… it’s just your imagination. Don’t look back. He tried to reason, but the thought did little to calm him.
Turning a corner sharply, Aamon rushed down the hall towards the common room. He just needed to get into the dorm he reminded himself. He fumbled with the knob, his fingers feeling numb. He could hear footfalls growing louder.
Someone was coming.
He did not feel fear, but perhaps he should have. They might hesitate if he was not alone as long as the other did not place himself in a precarious position. He would pause and wait to see who emerged around the corner. As long as it wasn’t a doll—one of those lifeless, painted faces that he feared, it would be fine he seemed to try to self-soothe. Assuming Grey: This was a person. A stranger. Human, by all appearances. But in the dim light of the dungeons, their presence felt no less unsettling.
Aamon froze, his heart hammering as he tried to decide whether to run, confront them, or simply hope they weren’t another trick of his imagination.
“H—h'ello?” he called out, the inflection of a shaky question. His hand twitched toward his wand, ready, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he would do if this stranger turned out to be something worse than the things he already feared.
@Percival Grey
Last edited by Sage Willows on 1 Dec 2024, 19:26, edited 1 time in total.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
3 Dec 2024, 13:36
The Shadow in the Dungeons
@Aamon Athantos
The game had changed upon releasing the most recent Daily Prophet article. Mathias, who was tight fisted in his personal life had now been ripped open, revealing those close to him who were looking to stay in the shadows altogether. One of those was Aamon, the younger brother of Matt who not only was a first year but also in Slytherin house. Gray had seen his face before, but up until now, he had no inkling Aamon was part of the same family. Either way, there was no better person in this current time to question than him.
Gray, along with Cormac had been bidding their time in the great hall. Dinner was the very few times most of their house was all together, along with the elusive first year who was sat at the end of the table. Percival was sat in the middle, but from where he was sitting the Slytherin had full view of the target at all times. All he needed to do now was wait, one which was flying by with this morning's daily prophet that had been saved for this very occasion.
However, it didn't take very long for the boy to make a move.
Suddenly screeching his chair back, Percival lifted a pair of eyes from the newspaper and looked on as he began to walk out of the hall rather nervously. Aamon might have been paranoid about the newfound target on his back, all these eyes weren't going to help that by the very least. Nudging a sleepy Cormac with his foot, he indicated it was time for them to leave. With a fold of his newspaper, he placed it in his pocket and soon followed the boy at a brisk walking speed.
Percival did well to keep out of sight in the meantime, and before long they were soon heading into the cold and dismal dungeons. For whatever reason the kid had walked himself into the worst place possible, especially with how stressed he looked in the hall minutes before. Nevertheless, it would prove to be another point in Gray's growing advantage. Slowly coming to a stop, he was only a few feet away, covered by the ever present darkness that hid his identity temporarily. Sighing, he reached for his wand and raised it ever so slightly.
"Lumos..."
A flash of light erupted in the tunnels, temporarily blinding the kid as he adjusted to the bright light in front of him. Eventually, he'd notice that his fears were correct, Percival had been watching him all this time.
"What's the hurry Athantos?" Gray asked with a little smile on the corner of his lips while slowly taking a few steps forward with a looming Cormac "I don't suppose you have time to talk, do you? I'm certain whoever you're meeting can wait for the time being."
Last edited by Percival Gray on 29 Dec 2024, 23:12, edited 2 times in total.
“This is only a foretaste of what is to come, and only the shadow of what is going to be.”
Stamina: 9 / Evasion: 10 / Strength: 9/ Wisdom: 7 / Arcane Power: 7 / Accuracy: 11
3 Dec 2024, 14:40
The Shadow in the Dungeons
Aamon squinted against the sudden burst of light, his breath catching in his throat as the dungeons’ gloom was replaced by the sharp glow of a wand. Gray's voice that followed confirmed his worst fear—that he had been followed, just not by what the youth had expected. The first year's heartbeat thundered in his ears as his wide eyes adjusted to the humanoid figure before him, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade.
Not a doll at least, he reminded himself but that was hardly a comfort. At least with dolls, he knew what he had to fear. Violent and fast, stronger than they looked, they were an enemy and he knew that when he faced them. Humans were different. Humans had this unknown, dark element to them. Their ambition, their wrath, their passions and their needs drove them. Humans did not exist in accordance to rules, they were unpredictable and therefore even more dangerous. Aamon leaned step away, as if the extra few inches afforded by the change in posture granted him some semblance of safety.
Aamon did not know Percival Gray, but it would seem that Percival knew him. The older-boy had run ins with multiple members of his immediate family, but oddly enough Aamon had never heard of the snake. How he vied for Sanatrio Martin's affections successfully against his eldest brother Vladimir Athanatos. How he was presently attempting to ingratiate himself with Winnie Harper, Mathias Pride's long-term girlfriend. Perhaps Aamon should find himself fortunate in that he was single, otherwise Percival would likely come for what was his also. The Slytherin seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with the women that attached themselves to an Athanatos. To Aamon however, Percival was an older boy with an uncomfortable interest in him and him alone and he did not know why.
The name Athanatos on Gray’s tongue felt like a lash, a reminder of the Daily Prophet article and the target it had painted on his back. Aamon failed to consider fully the peril the Daily Prophet had placed him in, ripping open a portion of his complicated family dynamics. It was a challenge for the boy that lived constantly in his elder brothers' shadow but also in the wake of the disaster they wrought. Aamon was distracted, still thinking about the dark misfits that pursued him and had hoped that the distraction of the Great Hall’s noise and bustle would give him a clean escape from the faceless dolls, failing to consider his housemates and peers might have an unsavory interest in him also. If only Aamon had moved a bit faster. If only Percival moved a bit slower. If only... Aamon could have then vanished into the dormitory before anyone had the chance to reach him, to call out to him, to potentially corner or isolate him in the halls. If only things were a bit different, he could have locked his door and remained in the safety of his dorm, separated from the world he wished to avoid. But now, Aamon was trapped in the dark, narrow corridor of the dungeons, his paranoia realized in stark, blinding light.
As his eyes accommodated to the glaring brightness, he would take in the features of the stranger. Older. Hairy. Green. He did not know much more than that from the superficial exchange, just that they shared a house making the common room an exercise in futility and combat a fool's errand.
Aamon backed up instinctively, his shoulder brushing against the cold, damp wall. The boy's mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic tangle of fear and self-preservation. He should run. “I’m not—” he started, but his voice cracked as if he was entering puberty, the words sticking in his throat. He swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, hiding in his pockets. His anxiety was born from his lack of knowledge regarding the stranger that called him only by his surname. What did he or one of his brothers do? Was this stranger here on behalf of something his parents had done, angered over something his father or uncle had done? Was he here just to make a quick buck, viewing the the boy was a walking ransome. Aamon had no idea, but knew that whatever the reason, it could not be good.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said finally, his tone sharper than he intended but quivering at the edges betraying his fear. "I have no money" a lie "or means to better your day." His voice wavered, his attempt at bravery was fragile and transparent. Aamon was not courageous in the least. He was a kid and he knew how defenseless he was in a world of witches and wizards capable of manifesting their will with the right incantation. For him, lighting the tip of his wand was still an ordeal. His fingers twitched toward his own wand, hidden in the folds of his robes, though he doubted he could do much if things turned hostile.
Aamon's gaze flicked to Cormac, the looming presence behind Gray, and then back to the smirking boy in front of him. Why would someone bring a cat with them to harass a first year? It could be an animagus he reasoned. The narrow passageway felt even tighter with them blocking his path back to the Great Hall, their shadows stretching long and ominous in the flickering light. “If you’re here to… what? Learn something about Vladimir or Gideon? Or my father... I don’t know anything, okay?” His statement had the inflection of a question. He was a terrible liar. He considered briefly that his middle brother Mathias might be the cause of this confrontation. Mathias had been causing waves as of late in wizarding society, hje was finally making his move. There was a recent Daily Prophet article mentioning his engagement to the pink lady as he called her, but better known as Winnie Harper. The idea made him feel unwell. He was not going to stand against family or someone like his brother. His voice rose slightly, his frustration slipping past the thin veneer of composure. “Whatever you think you’re going to get from me, you’re wasting your time.” He tried to sound brave, like he could set boundaries. But he struggled to exude the same confidence his brothers seemed to conjure passively. Sometimes he thought they liked the pain.
Aamon tried to edge sideways, his movements slow and deliberate, though there was nowhere to go except deeper into the twisting dungeons. Closer to the common room. Perhaps he could rush inside and barricade the door. The thought of being trapped in these dark halls with whoever this —or worse, whatever else who might come looking—made his stomach churn. He desperately wanted to find his way into his dorm and glanced in the vague direction of the Slytherin doorway. He could make it if he ran for it he thought as he tensed his body like a coiled spring.
“I’m not meeting anyone,” Aamon added quickly, the statement clumsy but urgent in the wake of the previous lie. “I was just… heading back to the common room. That’s all.” A technical truth, even if he omitted what he was racing to escape. There was nobody waiting for him in the dorms, most of their housemates were still in the Great Hall gorging themselves on heavy British food.
Aamon forced himself to stand a little straighter, though his trembling knees betrayed him. “So if you’re done playing whatever game this is, let me go.” He tried to look brave, intimidating even as he tried to take advantage of his height. He was quite tall for a first year, but he was young and compared to the elder snake he appeared quite small, standing just over 5 feet. Still, he did his best, shaking where he stood as he tried to make an intimidating target.
Not a doll at least, he reminded himself but that was hardly a comfort. At least with dolls, he knew what he had to fear. Violent and fast, stronger than they looked, they were an enemy and he knew that when he faced them. Humans were different. Humans had this unknown, dark element to them. Their ambition, their wrath, their passions and their needs drove them. Humans did not exist in accordance to rules, they were unpredictable and therefore even more dangerous. Aamon leaned step away, as if the extra few inches afforded by the change in posture granted him some semblance of safety.
Aamon did not know Percival Gray, but it would seem that Percival knew him. The older-boy had run ins with multiple members of his immediate family, but oddly enough Aamon had never heard of the snake. How he vied for Sanatrio Martin's affections successfully against his eldest brother Vladimir Athanatos. How he was presently attempting to ingratiate himself with Winnie Harper, Mathias Pride's long-term girlfriend. Perhaps Aamon should find himself fortunate in that he was single, otherwise Percival would likely come for what was his also. The Slytherin seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with the women that attached themselves to an Athanatos. To Aamon however, Percival was an older boy with an uncomfortable interest in him and him alone and he did not know why.
The name Athanatos on Gray’s tongue felt like a lash, a reminder of the Daily Prophet article and the target it had painted on his back. Aamon failed to consider fully the peril the Daily Prophet had placed him in, ripping open a portion of his complicated family dynamics. It was a challenge for the boy that lived constantly in his elder brothers' shadow but also in the wake of the disaster they wrought. Aamon was distracted, still thinking about the dark misfits that pursued him and had hoped that the distraction of the Great Hall’s noise and bustle would give him a clean escape from the faceless dolls, failing to consider his housemates and peers might have an unsavory interest in him also. If only Aamon had moved a bit faster. If only Percival moved a bit slower. If only... Aamon could have then vanished into the dormitory before anyone had the chance to reach him, to call out to him, to potentially corner or isolate him in the halls. If only things were a bit different, he could have locked his door and remained in the safety of his dorm, separated from the world he wished to avoid. But now, Aamon was trapped in the dark, narrow corridor of the dungeons, his paranoia realized in stark, blinding light.
As his eyes accommodated to the glaring brightness, he would take in the features of the stranger. Older. Hairy. Green. He did not know much more than that from the superficial exchange, just that they shared a house making the common room an exercise in futility and combat a fool's errand.
Aamon backed up instinctively, his shoulder brushing against the cold, damp wall. The boy's mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic tangle of fear and self-preservation. He should run. “I’m not—” he started, but his voice cracked as if he was entering puberty, the words sticking in his throat. He swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, hiding in his pockets. His anxiety was born from his lack of knowledge regarding the stranger that called him only by his surname. What did he or one of his brothers do? Was this stranger here on behalf of something his parents had done, angered over something his father or uncle had done? Was he here just to make a quick buck, viewing the the boy was a walking ransome. Aamon had no idea, but knew that whatever the reason, it could not be good.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said finally, his tone sharper than he intended but quivering at the edges betraying his fear. "I have no money" a lie "or means to better your day." His voice wavered, his attempt at bravery was fragile and transparent. Aamon was not courageous in the least. He was a kid and he knew how defenseless he was in a world of witches and wizards capable of manifesting their will with the right incantation. For him, lighting the tip of his wand was still an ordeal. His fingers twitched toward his own wand, hidden in the folds of his robes, though he doubted he could do much if things turned hostile.
Aamon's gaze flicked to Cormac, the looming presence behind Gray, and then back to the smirking boy in front of him. Why would someone bring a cat with them to harass a first year? It could be an animagus he reasoned. The narrow passageway felt even tighter with them blocking his path back to the Great Hall, their shadows stretching long and ominous in the flickering light. “If you’re here to… what? Learn something about Vladimir or Gideon? Or my father... I don’t know anything, okay?” His statement had the inflection of a question. He was a terrible liar. He considered briefly that his middle brother Mathias might be the cause of this confrontation. Mathias had been causing waves as of late in wizarding society, hje was finally making his move. There was a recent Daily Prophet article mentioning his engagement to the pink lady as he called her, but better known as Winnie Harper. The idea made him feel unwell. He was not going to stand against family or someone like his brother. His voice rose slightly, his frustration slipping past the thin veneer of composure. “Whatever you think you’re going to get from me, you’re wasting your time.” He tried to sound brave, like he could set boundaries. But he struggled to exude the same confidence his brothers seemed to conjure passively. Sometimes he thought they liked the pain.
Aamon tried to edge sideways, his movements slow and deliberate, though there was nowhere to go except deeper into the twisting dungeons. Closer to the common room. Perhaps he could rush inside and barricade the door. The thought of being trapped in these dark halls with whoever this —or worse, whatever else who might come looking—made his stomach churn. He desperately wanted to find his way into his dorm and glanced in the vague direction of the Slytherin doorway. He could make it if he ran for it he thought as he tensed his body like a coiled spring.
“I’m not meeting anyone,” Aamon added quickly, the statement clumsy but urgent in the wake of the previous lie. “I was just… heading back to the common room. That’s all.” A technical truth, even if he omitted what he was racing to escape. There was nobody waiting for him in the dorms, most of their housemates were still in the Great Hall gorging themselves on heavy British food.
Aamon forced himself to stand a little straighter, though his trembling knees betrayed him. “So if you’re done playing whatever game this is, let me go.” He tried to look brave, intimidating even as he tried to take advantage of his height. He was quite tall for a first year, but he was young and compared to the elder snake he appeared quite small, standing just over 5 feet. Still, he did his best, shaking where he stood as he tried to make an intimidating target.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
6 Dec 2024, 14:03
The Shadow in the Dungeons
@Aamon Athantos
"Well, you could very much better my day if you say the right things" Gray replied as he unintentionally backed Aamon against a wall. There was no point in him trying to run anyway, he'd either face a spell or the vicious claws of Cormac who still hadn't taken his eyes off the boy upon first contact. That, however, was only if he tried to be stupid, Gray didn't have plans to hurt a defenseless first year anytime soon, even if they were related to that strange family "You don't know a thing about your own family? come on Aamon, stop preaching to the quire already..."
Stepping to the left of him, Gray stopped any intention of trying to slide away so easily. There were ways of still getting him in the common room, but it was more private than the eyes of most of his house on him "You may go back to the common once you have answered my questions. If you don't on the other hand, that's where things will start to get a bit nasty" Gray said in a cold tone, his eyes looking down at Aamon with a look that seemed like he could snap at him at any moment " And who says this was a game, kid?"
Starring at him quietly for a few moments, Percival relaxed and smirked once more "I'm not trying to mess with you, I'm merely looking to gain an understanding of your brothers. So please, enlighten me. How would you describe all your brothers in your own words?" Percival asked with a more calmer tone this time. Unknownst to Aamon, Gray already had a history with Vlad. He was a strange lad to say the least, especially when they were feuding over San. That was in the past now, hopefully, things would be different the next time they met.
Last edited by Percival Gray on 9 Dec 2024, 17:47, edited 1 time in total.
“This is only a foretaste of what is to come, and only the shadow of what is going to be.”
Stamina: 9 / Evasion: 10 / Strength: 9/ Wisdom: 7 / Arcane Power: 7 / Accuracy: 11
6 Dec 2024, 15:33
The Shadow in the Dungeons
"Well, you could very much better my day if you say the right things"
The obvious threat sent a shiver through Aamon. Aamon pressed himself harder against the cold stone wall, his chest heaving with short, shallow breaths. The light from Gray’s wand made the shadows of the dungeon twist and stretch, looming over him like silent predators. He wanted to look away from Gray’s sharp, piercing gaze, but Cormac’s presence—silent, looming, and all too dangerous—made him feel trapped no matter where he turned.
"You don't know a thing about your own family? come on Aamon, stop preaching to the quire already..."
He shook his head 'no', his first lie.
"You may go back to the common once you have answered my questions. If you don't on the other hand, that's where things will start to get a bit nasty... And who says this was a game, kid?"
Terrified. “I-I don’t know what you want me to say,” Aamon stammered, his voice trembling. Grey was not particularly intimidating on his own, a mop of curls on his crown and dark features, perceptions can twist in accordance to actions. “They don’t tell me anything. I’m just…” His words faltered as he tried to shrink further into himself and his lie. “I’m just the youngest. They don’t bother with me unless they have to.” He was not honest with the stranger, of course he knew his brothers intimately, they shared a household, a family, and a history. He was aware of the terrible things they had done, they had great pride in their works. He was aware of what they intended to a lesser extent, there was a continual game being played between even brothers, Vlad's absence left a power vacuum and a scramble to the throne.
"I'm not trying to mess with you, I'm merely looking to gain an understanding of your brothers. So please, enlighten me. How would you describe all your brothers in your own words?"
Gray’s expression only made the knot of fear in Aamon’s stomach tighten. His question hung in the air like a blade suspended above his head. How would you describe all your brothers in your own words?
Aamon’s throat tightened, and he hesitated. Talking about his brothers felt like walking on a razor’s edge. The Athanatos family had its secrets, and he knew better than to speak of them lightly. But what choice did he have? Gray had cornered him, and Cormac’s silent, watchful stare was a promise that any wrong move would end badly.
“They’re…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re cruel. Terrifying. But…” He paused, his trembling fingers brushing against the fabric of his robes as though searching for something to hold onto. “But they’re necessary.” It was a vague statement, but he doubted that was what the boy was looking for, his mind whirled through his options. Lie, that was his first impulse.
Aamon lifted his eyes, meeting Gray’s gaze for the first time with a flicker of defiance. “They do what they must to survive. To thrive. They don’t care if it’s fair, or kind, or even right. They just… they just do it.” His voice cracked, and he looked away quickly, his fear outweighing his fleeting bravery.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said again. “If you’ve got a problem with them, take it up with them. But dragging me into it won’t help you. I can’t—I won’t—fight their battles.” A terrible thought crossed his awareness just then, but he squashed the notion. A desperate, fleeting thought that was selfish and cruel. He was not that sort of person he decided.
He glanced at Cormac, the cat’s steady, predatory silence sending a shiver down his spine. “You said I could go back if I answered you. So, I answered.” His voice wavered as he tried to sound braver than he felt. “Let me go.”
The obvious threat sent a shiver through Aamon. Aamon pressed himself harder against the cold stone wall, his chest heaving with short, shallow breaths. The light from Gray’s wand made the shadows of the dungeon twist and stretch, looming over him like silent predators. He wanted to look away from Gray’s sharp, piercing gaze, but Cormac’s presence—silent, looming, and all too dangerous—made him feel trapped no matter where he turned.
"You don't know a thing about your own family? come on Aamon, stop preaching to the quire already..."
He shook his head 'no', his first lie.
"You may go back to the common once you have answered my questions. If you don't on the other hand, that's where things will start to get a bit nasty... And who says this was a game, kid?"
Terrified. “I-I don’t know what you want me to say,” Aamon stammered, his voice trembling. Grey was not particularly intimidating on his own, a mop of curls on his crown and dark features, perceptions can twist in accordance to actions. “They don’t tell me anything. I’m just…” His words faltered as he tried to shrink further into himself and his lie. “I’m just the youngest. They don’t bother with me unless they have to.” He was not honest with the stranger, of course he knew his brothers intimately, they shared a household, a family, and a history. He was aware of the terrible things they had done, they had great pride in their works. He was aware of what they intended to a lesser extent, there was a continual game being played between even brothers, Vlad's absence left a power vacuum and a scramble to the throne.
"I'm not trying to mess with you, I'm merely looking to gain an understanding of your brothers. So please, enlighten me. How would you describe all your brothers in your own words?"
Gray’s expression only made the knot of fear in Aamon’s stomach tighten. His question hung in the air like a blade suspended above his head. How would you describe all your brothers in your own words?
Aamon’s throat tightened, and he hesitated. Talking about his brothers felt like walking on a razor’s edge. The Athanatos family had its secrets, and he knew better than to speak of them lightly. But what choice did he have? Gray had cornered him, and Cormac’s silent, watchful stare was a promise that any wrong move would end badly.
“They’re…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re cruel. Terrifying. But…” He paused, his trembling fingers brushing against the fabric of his robes as though searching for something to hold onto. “But they’re necessary.” It was a vague statement, but he doubted that was what the boy was looking for, his mind whirled through his options. Lie, that was his first impulse.
Aamon lifted his eyes, meeting Gray’s gaze for the first time with a flicker of defiance. “They do what they must to survive. To thrive. They don’t care if it’s fair, or kind, or even right. They just… they just do it.” His voice cracked, and he looked away quickly, his fear outweighing his fleeting bravery.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said again. “If you’ve got a problem with them, take it up with them. But dragging me into it won’t help you. I can’t—I won’t—fight their battles.” A terrible thought crossed his awareness just then, but he squashed the notion. A desperate, fleeting thought that was selfish and cruel. He was not that sort of person he decided.
He glanced at Cormac, the cat’s steady, predatory silence sending a shiver down his spine. “You said I could go back if I answered you. So, I answered.” His voice wavered as he tried to sound braver than he felt. “Let me go.”
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
9 Dec 2024, 18:22
The Shadow in the Dungeons
@Aamon Athantos
"How intriguing..." Gray said at first "So what you're saying is they're are cruel just to survive? Really? They are purebloods, the lot of them haven't had to fight for anything in their lives" Purebloods like himself had it easy, their families didn't have to worry an awful lot about their wellbeing in the slightest. Which in turn made him think, was their family life that bad for him to say that?
Keeping his gaze locked on the kid, he nonchalantly leaned up against the wall and folded his arms "I'm not dragging you into anything kid. Once I'm finished here, I probably won't ever speak to you again. That's only if I get everything I need." Percival promised, his face somewhat softening to indicate that he meant every word "And the thing is, I don't want you to even think about fighting their battles. As far as I'm concerned, you have done nothing wrong... yet" Gray hoped he wouldn't go on to act like his stupid brothers. It would be a shame if he'd had to deal with him too.
"You're not going anywhere just yet, I still haven't finished," he said sternly back to the boy, his cold blue eyes doing the brunt of the intimidation "Has Matt ever spoken to your family as to what he sees or wants from Winnie? Surely your brother must have discussed the wedding with you lot first, especially when it's a half blood who could potentially contaminate your family line?"
Of course, that's not what he thought about Winnie, but considering the Athantos family were considered elitest he would have thought there'd be a few objections to the whole thing.
Last edited by Percival Gray on 12 Dec 2024, 19:14, edited 2 times in total.
“This is only a foretaste of what is to come, and only the shadow of what is going to be.”
Stamina: 9 / Evasion: 10 / Strength: 9/ Wisdom: 7 / Arcane Power: 7 / Accuracy: 11
10 Dec 2024, 00:15
The Shadow in the Dungeons
Aamon Athanatos shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve as Percival Gray’s piercing eyes bore into him. He hated being put on the spot, especially when it came to his brothers. Mathias, Gideon, Vladimir—their shadows were so immense, so suffocating, that even speaking about them felt like stepping into a den of snakes, unsure which would strike first.
The Slytherin first year swallowed hard, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be. He was trying to put on a brave face, but he was terrified. “You think it’s easy, being one of us?" His voice quavered. "That just because we’re purebloods, we’ve never had to fight for anything?” His laugh was bitter, humorless. “You’ve no idea what it’s like in that house. Everything’s a fight. Not with wands or fists, but with words, glances, schemes. It’s survival of the fittest, all day, every day.”
He remembered assessment day. His nanny spent the day preparing him, showing him how to vaguely point between two options when possible so that presumptions could be made. So that if he lacked the 'gift' he could buy himself a little more time in his family's favor. He did not just happen to be a Seer, he needed to be one. Love was not a given, he, like his brothers were products. Nothing less, nothing more.
Aamon cast a nervous glance around, making sure no one was within earshot. “Vladimir set the tone years ago—be ruthless, or be crushed. Not that he made it..." he admitted. "He hesitated," Aamon admitted almost in an afterthought. "And Gideon...” He shuddered slightly. “Giddy has nothing to lose, everything to gain. He makes this all into a game. A cruel, twisted game. He doesn’t care about winning or losing; he just likes to see the pieces break. But Mathias...”
He paused, biting his lip. Mathias was the hardest to talk about because Mathias was the hardest to understand and the only one among them with a concrete plan.
“Matt fights for control. Over everything. Over us, over Winnie, over himself. I don’t think he even realizes how much of it is about control anymore. He just does it. And if you think being pureblood makes that easier, you’re wrong. It makes it worse. Everyone expects perfection—strength, cunning, composure. No room for mistakes, no room to be human.” he left out a few important details, he really iterated what the older Slytherin likely already knew.
He exhaled shakily, as though releasing a pressure he’d been holding for too long. “Mathias doesn’t talk about Winnie, not to me." He lied. "He doesn’t need to," he added. "He’s decided she’s his, and that’s all there is to it. He doesn’t care what Father thinks, what anyone thinks. Winnie’s not a half-blood to him—she’s an object, a possession, another piece on his chessboard. And he’ll protect that piece at all costs because it’s his.”
Aamon hesitated again, glancing at Percival’s unreadable face. “As for the family, objections don’t matter. Matt’s not the heir—Vladimir is." He was wrong on that note. Vladimir had walked away from it all, not that he spoke to Aamon about this. Not that he understood Thaddeus, his father's rage or the power-vacuum his brother's death had left in the family as members scrambled for the throne. Or how insistent his father could be. How opportunistic the Pride family truly was. Or how in danger he was. "And even if Vlad doesn’t like the idea of Winnie in the family, it’s not his hill to die on. He’ll let Matt have his little rebellion as long as it doesn’t disrupt the bigger picture. That’s how it works with us. Everyone gets their piece of the pie, as long as they don’t ruin it for the rest of us.”
The boy’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned in slightly, his face pale. “But if you think for a second that Winnie’s safe... she’s not. Not from Mathias, and definitely not from Gideon. Giddy doesn’t just play with the pieces on the board. He tips the board over when you’re not looking. And no one sees it coming.”
He stepped back, visibly trembling now. “So, no, I’m not fighting their battles. I’m just trying to stay out of their way. And if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”
A lot of words, but no real news.
The Slytherin first year swallowed hard, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be. He was trying to put on a brave face, but he was terrified. “You think it’s easy, being one of us?" His voice quavered. "That just because we’re purebloods, we’ve never had to fight for anything?” His laugh was bitter, humorless. “You’ve no idea what it’s like in that house. Everything’s a fight. Not with wands or fists, but with words, glances, schemes. It’s survival of the fittest, all day, every day.”
He remembered assessment day. His nanny spent the day preparing him, showing him how to vaguely point between two options when possible so that presumptions could be made. So that if he lacked the 'gift' he could buy himself a little more time in his family's favor. He did not just happen to be a Seer, he needed to be one. Love was not a given, he, like his brothers were products. Nothing less, nothing more.
Aamon cast a nervous glance around, making sure no one was within earshot. “Vladimir set the tone years ago—be ruthless, or be crushed. Not that he made it..." he admitted. "He hesitated," Aamon admitted almost in an afterthought. "And Gideon...” He shuddered slightly. “Giddy has nothing to lose, everything to gain. He makes this all into a game. A cruel, twisted game. He doesn’t care about winning or losing; he just likes to see the pieces break. But Mathias...”
He paused, biting his lip. Mathias was the hardest to talk about because Mathias was the hardest to understand and the only one among them with a concrete plan.
“Matt fights for control. Over everything. Over us, over Winnie, over himself. I don’t think he even realizes how much of it is about control anymore. He just does it. And if you think being pureblood makes that easier, you’re wrong. It makes it worse. Everyone expects perfection—strength, cunning, composure. No room for mistakes, no room to be human.” he left out a few important details, he really iterated what the older Slytherin likely already knew.
He exhaled shakily, as though releasing a pressure he’d been holding for too long. “Mathias doesn’t talk about Winnie, not to me." He lied. "He doesn’t need to," he added. "He’s decided she’s his, and that’s all there is to it. He doesn’t care what Father thinks, what anyone thinks. Winnie’s not a half-blood to him—she’s an object, a possession, another piece on his chessboard. And he’ll protect that piece at all costs because it’s his.”
Aamon hesitated again, glancing at Percival’s unreadable face. “As for the family, objections don’t matter. Matt’s not the heir—Vladimir is." He was wrong on that note. Vladimir had walked away from it all, not that he spoke to Aamon about this. Not that he understood Thaddeus, his father's rage or the power-vacuum his brother's death had left in the family as members scrambled for the throne. Or how insistent his father could be. How opportunistic the Pride family truly was. Or how in danger he was. "And even if Vlad doesn’t like the idea of Winnie in the family, it’s not his hill to die on. He’ll let Matt have his little rebellion as long as it doesn’t disrupt the bigger picture. That’s how it works with us. Everyone gets their piece of the pie, as long as they don’t ruin it for the rest of us.”
The boy’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned in slightly, his face pale. “But if you think for a second that Winnie’s safe... she’s not. Not from Mathias, and definitely not from Gideon. Giddy doesn’t just play with the pieces on the board. He tips the board over when you’re not looking. And no one sees it coming.”
He stepped back, visibly trembling now. “So, no, I’m not fighting their battles. I’m just trying to stay out of their way. And if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”
A lot of words, but no real news.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
12 Dec 2024, 20:34
The Shadow in the Dungeons
@Aamon Athantos
"What a happy family..." Gray grumbled with a roll of his eyes "From the sounds of it all of you are in an ever lasting power struggle. I can imagine that to be quite exhausting for everyone, especially you." All poor Aamon could do was stand in the middle of it, unable to move or avoid the battles that were going on around him. In a way, that saddened Gray, but that couldn't be helped when there were greater things to be depressed about.
The power struggle was only expanded when the first year explained further, giving Percival a better idea of where each one sat. He didn't know that Vlad was high up on the food chain, especially when they were feuding over San. Nothing was said regarding the family, but that may have been because he was still well in control at the time. Now that things had changed, everything was starting to leak into the public eye regarding their issues.
"Everyone in the family has their piece huh? let me guess, do you only get the crumbs they leave behind?" Gray said casually considering Aamon wasn't much of a threat to their position "I don't care about Gideon and his tendency to flip chess boards over, tell me more regarding Vlad." The Slytherin requested directly "If he's the heir, what the hell is he doing in Hogsmeade alone? Did he finally get tired of the madhouse known as the Athantos household?" Gray said almost mockingly with a slight grin " Or was it because of the memories of our history? Even though it was very different circumstances, he was leading someone who I loved down a dangerous path I had to save her from with the help of others"
For a few moments, Gray seemed to frown from the memories that still plagued him "It wasn't directly his fault, and admittedly he treated her with way more respect than Mathias could with any girl. Yet, I still have that horrible feeling Mathias is trying the same but worse. So, can you tell me where he is? If the daily prophet knows he's in Hogsmead, you should know where he lives"
Matt on the other hand was a clear control freak, one who was determined to make everything he desired his no matter what. That in itself made him think, what was so special about that made him want her in the first place. Some of it was love, but Gray felt there was more to it than that "I know the lengths Matt goes to get what he wants. I've heard from Winnie firsthand what he has been doing" For now, he wasn't going to mention the potions he had been slipping her "But why? Why Winnie out of all people? She's a half blood living on a farm in Ireland, someone who as a pureblood should be way below his league."
Leaning his head forward slightly, he lowered his voice to almost a whisper. It sounded heartless, as well as restless from what Aamon said so far "So, I'm going to ask you again. What the fuck does he want with Winnie Harper? I know what he has done to her, so don't bullshit me on the love or "he doesn't speak to me about her" excuse. You've heard something, and I want to know what that is."
"If you were so desperate not to ruin his bigger picture, wouldn't you have been adamant to find out what that was? Compared to the rest of your brothers, all you want to do is avoid conflict at all costs."
Last edited by Percival Gray on 2 Jan 2025, 22:20, edited 2 times in total.
“This is only a foretaste of what is to come, and only the shadow of what is going to be.”
Stamina: 9 / Evasion: 10 / Strength: 9/ Wisdom: 7 / Arcane Power: 7 / Accuracy: 11
15 Dec 2024, 22:14
The Shadow in the Dungeons
"What a happy family..." Gray said, his sarcasm dripping like venom. "From the sounds of it all of you are in an ever lasting power struggle. I can imagine that to be quite exhausting for everyone, especially you."
Aamon didn’t respond at first, his jaw tightening as Gray’s words struck raw nerves. His gaze stayed fixed on the damp stone floor, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Every mocking phrase felt like a needle digging into wounds he tried so hard to keep hidden.
“You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice low and trembling with suppressed anger and indignation. “Not that I expect you to. You take my words, twist them, and draw whatever conclusion fits your vendetta. That’s how it always goes, isn’t it?” He could tell that much by the little he understood about the family from the questions he asked. Questions whose answers were readily, publicly available he realized.
"Everyone in the family has their piece huh? let me guess, do you only get the crumbs they leave behind?"
Was that necessary? Aamon’s fists clenched tighter, but he stayed silent. Gray’s relentless questions continued, each one cutting deeper than the last.
"I don't care about Gideon and his tendency to flip chess boards over, tell me more regarding Vlad."
He dismissed Gideon outright. Interesting, they obviously never met. It seemed that Gray's tactic was menace, insult then demand.
"If he's the heir, what the hell is he doing in Hogsmeade alone? Did he finally get tired of the madhouse known as the Athantos household?" He had already gotten it wrong by making assumptions. "Or was it because of the memories of our history? Even though it was very different circumstances, he was leading someone who I loved down a dangerous path I had to save her from with the help of others."
Aamon’s head snapped up, confusion flickering in his wide, dark eyes. Our history? Who? The cryptic mention gnawed at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Whatever Gray was alluding to, it didn’t matter—none of this mattered. Gray was here to dig at the cracks in the Athanatos family, to peel them apart like layers of bark until only the rot beneath was left.
"It wasn't directly his fault, and admittedly he treated her with way more respect than Mathias could with any girl. Yet, I still have that horrible feeling Mathias is trying the same but worse. So, can you tell me where he is? If the daily prophet knows he's in Hogsmead, you should know where he lives"
He apparently wanted to know Vlad's address. He needed to breathe, to consider his options. He could simply tell the Slytherin bully the exact location. And then it clicked. Like a switch being turned on. "Yes, I know exactly where my big brother lives," Aamon announced as the waver left his voice.
"52 Duskmallow Lane, Apartment 2B. His bedroom is the one facing Hog Head," Aamon explained matter of factly, picking a clear landmark rather than make the brute remember his left from his right. "I'm sure they would love to catch up with you," Aamon announced with a hint of the same sarcasm in his voice. Was this what it was like? It did not feel terrible he admitted.
"I know the lengths Matt goes to get what he wants. I've heard from Winnie firsthand what he has been doing." When Gray shifted to Mathias, Aamon bristled. "But why? Why Winnie out of all people? She's a half blood living on a farm in Ireland, someone who as a pureblood should be way below his league."
Gray’s mention of Winnie Harper, better known to Aamon as 'the pink lady' drew a flicker of confusion across Aamon’s face, quickly replaced by unease. Aamon exhaled shakily, his fear mingling with frustration. “I don’t know why Matt does anything,” he said sharply, his voice trembling. “I don’t ask. I can’t. You think I want to be part of this? I avoid them because it’s the only way to survive. And you—you stand there and demand answers like I have any power over them. Like I’d even be allowed to know.” He deflected.
"So, I'm going to ask you again. What the fuck does he want with Winnie Harper? I know what he has done to her, so don't bullshit me on the love or "he doesn't speak to me about her" excuse. You've heard something, and I want to know what that is."
"If you were so desperate not to ruin his bigger picture, wouldn't you have been adamant to find out what that was? Compared to the rest of your brothers, all you want to do is avoid conflict at all costs."
Aamon’s breath hitched as he stepped forward, his fear sparking into defiance. “You think I haven’t tried to figure it out?” he lied. “Matt doesn’t care about anyone but himself. If Winnie’s caught his attention, it’s because she’s something he can use. Maybe she’s leverage against someone else. Maybe he thinks he can make her into something he needs. Or maybe she’s just a new game for him to play. That’s who he is. He takes what he wants because he can.”
He broke eye contact, his body trembling as he tried to rein in his rising panic. “But you think you can stop him? You think you can stop any of them?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “You might have come to the weakest link, but even I can tell you this: you don’t go up against my family and come out in one piece. They don’t stop. Not until they’ve won. And even then, they just keep going.”
Aamon’s voice softened, exhaustion bleeding into his tone. “You’re not the first to try. You won’t be the last. But don’t drag me into it. I’ve got enough to deal with already.”
He took a step back, his body tense as though ready to bolt. “If you’re smart, you’ll leave it alone. Before they make you regret it.”
Aamon didn’t respond at first, his jaw tightening as Gray’s words struck raw nerves. His gaze stayed fixed on the damp stone floor, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Every mocking phrase felt like a needle digging into wounds he tried so hard to keep hidden.
“You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice low and trembling with suppressed anger and indignation. “Not that I expect you to. You take my words, twist them, and draw whatever conclusion fits your vendetta. That’s how it always goes, isn’t it?” He could tell that much by the little he understood about the family from the questions he asked. Questions whose answers were readily, publicly available he realized.
"Everyone in the family has their piece huh? let me guess, do you only get the crumbs they leave behind?"
Was that necessary? Aamon’s fists clenched tighter, but he stayed silent. Gray’s relentless questions continued, each one cutting deeper than the last.
"I don't care about Gideon and his tendency to flip chess boards over, tell me more regarding Vlad."
He dismissed Gideon outright. Interesting, they obviously never met. It seemed that Gray's tactic was menace, insult then demand.
"If he's the heir, what the hell is he doing in Hogsmeade alone? Did he finally get tired of the madhouse known as the Athantos household?" He had already gotten it wrong by making assumptions. "Or was it because of the memories of our history? Even though it was very different circumstances, he was leading someone who I loved down a dangerous path I had to save her from with the help of others."
Aamon’s head snapped up, confusion flickering in his wide, dark eyes. Our history? Who? The cryptic mention gnawed at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Whatever Gray was alluding to, it didn’t matter—none of this mattered. Gray was here to dig at the cracks in the Athanatos family, to peel them apart like layers of bark until only the rot beneath was left.
"It wasn't directly his fault, and admittedly he treated her with way more respect than Mathias could with any girl. Yet, I still have that horrible feeling Mathias is trying the same but worse. So, can you tell me where he is? If the daily prophet knows he's in Hogsmead, you should know where he lives"
He apparently wanted to know Vlad's address. He needed to breathe, to consider his options. He could simply tell the Slytherin bully the exact location. And then it clicked. Like a switch being turned on. "Yes, I know exactly where my big brother lives," Aamon announced as the waver left his voice.
"52 Duskmallow Lane, Apartment 2B. His bedroom is the one facing Hog Head," Aamon explained matter of factly, picking a clear landmark rather than make the brute remember his left from his right. "I'm sure they would love to catch up with you," Aamon announced with a hint of the same sarcasm in his voice. Was this what it was like? It did not feel terrible he admitted.
"I know the lengths Matt goes to get what he wants. I've heard from Winnie firsthand what he has been doing." When Gray shifted to Mathias, Aamon bristled. "But why? Why Winnie out of all people? She's a half blood living on a farm in Ireland, someone who as a pureblood should be way below his league."
Gray’s mention of Winnie Harper, better known to Aamon as 'the pink lady' drew a flicker of confusion across Aamon’s face, quickly replaced by unease. Aamon exhaled shakily, his fear mingling with frustration. “I don’t know why Matt does anything,” he said sharply, his voice trembling. “I don’t ask. I can’t. You think I want to be part of this? I avoid them because it’s the only way to survive. And you—you stand there and demand answers like I have any power over them. Like I’d even be allowed to know.” He deflected.
"So, I'm going to ask you again. What the fuck does he want with Winnie Harper? I know what he has done to her, so don't bullshit me on the love or "he doesn't speak to me about her" excuse. You've heard something, and I want to know what that is."
"If you were so desperate not to ruin his bigger picture, wouldn't you have been adamant to find out what that was? Compared to the rest of your brothers, all you want to do is avoid conflict at all costs."
Aamon’s breath hitched as he stepped forward, his fear sparking into defiance. “You think I haven’t tried to figure it out?” he lied. “Matt doesn’t care about anyone but himself. If Winnie’s caught his attention, it’s because she’s something he can use. Maybe she’s leverage against someone else. Maybe he thinks he can make her into something he needs. Or maybe she’s just a new game for him to play. That’s who he is. He takes what he wants because he can.”
He broke eye contact, his body trembling as he tried to rein in his rising panic. “But you think you can stop him? You think you can stop any of them?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “You might have come to the weakest link, but even I can tell you this: you don’t go up against my family and come out in one piece. They don’t stop. Not until they’ve won. And even then, they just keep going.”
Aamon’s voice softened, exhaustion bleeding into his tone. “You’re not the first to try. You won’t be the last. But don’t drag me into it. I’ve got enough to deal with already.”
He took a step back, his body tense as though ready to bolt. “If you’re smart, you’ll leave it alone. Before they make you regret it.”
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
2 Jan 2025, 23:10
The Shadow in the Dungeons
@Aamon Athantos
Percival stared at him silently for a few seconds after he revealed the address, almost as if he was figuring out if what Aamon said was bullshit. The way he said it without worry was a big red flag, which was harder not to miss. Nonetheless, he settled on doing the more riskier option. It was likely a trap, but he was more than happy to spring it. If the whole thing was a trap, Gray had every reason to drown the little punk in the great lake.
Not after he roughed him up a little of course.
"Fine, I'll take your word for it" Gray stated, his head getting slightly closer to the first year "And just so you know, if any little thing goes wrong while I'm there your head will be the first thing on the chopping board," the lad said coldly, not bothered in the slightest if any repercussions were put against him in the process. He kept that same look when he sternly asked again what Matt's intentions were, and to say the least, Aaamon kept to his original word of survival.
However, right at the end, he warned him of the danger of facing his family head on. No matter what Aamon said, Percy wasn't going to back down. He was already in too deep, there was no backing out especially when Winnie needed all the help she could get. There was also something else Aamon had not taken into account, he didn't know anything about the Gray's and their history.
If he did know, the young Slytherin wouldn't have been making those bold claims at all.
"Now now Aamon, don't get ahead of yourself now" Gray released with a sigh "If I did that, I wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing your big brother suffering. Only when that happens, and your miserable family stops thinking like idiotic will I stop. Winnie is more valuable than a pawn on a chess board, she's something beautiful that deserves to blossom in today's shitty world."
For the first time, Gray seemed to show some emotion in his words. It was full of respect for a lady who deserved so much more. That however wasn't close yet. He had the option of seeing Vlad, but there was also another option. This shot him directly at the head of the table, and with most pure bloodied families, it was the father who was the source of all ideas good and bad.
"So, how about you scutter this message back to your father. Let him know I wish to speak with him on this matter, sooner rather than later. I'm certain he can find time in between breaking up your petty squabbles to speak with a concerned sixth year. Especially when it's about his excuse of a life he calls a son, I bet he's real proud of what he's doing"
“This is only a foretaste of what is to come, and only the shadow of what is going to be.”
Stamina: 9 / Evasion: 10 / Strength: 9/ Wisdom: 7 / Arcane Power: 7 / Accuracy: 11