Closed We Need to Talk About Mattie

Interacting: @Gideon Athanatos

Outfit: ✿ | ✿

Mentioning: @Mathias Pride

English | Irish

When the letter had arrived, she'd stared at it. No signature. The handwriting was delicate and cute. She had assumed it was sent by one of her concerned friends.

If only that had been the truth.

She was wrapped in her favourite pink pea coat, the one with the pearl buttons. Her hair fell into long loose curls, cascading over her back. Pearl earrings peeked through, the top of her head shielded from the cold with a simple white beret. Knee-high white boots clicked against the stone floor of the spiral staircase leading up to the owlery. They were heeled, always heeled, unless she was in her school uniform. Not that she hadn't tried it before and been scolded for breaking the dress code. But without the heels it was hard to kiss Mathias. It was his fault for growing so damn tall.

The Ravenclaw halted in her tracks when she heard his voice, soft and lined with fake sugar. "Gideon..." Her voice came out small, her throat suddenly tight. She wanted to turn and run down the staircase. Perhaps she could pretend she had never run into the unsettling cherub.

Matt will know, she reminded herself, he always knows.

"You sent me a letter?" A hand slipped into her coat pocket to retrieve the offending parchment. "I... I'm not supposed to talk to you." She admitted to him.

It was his eyes she found to be so unnerving, "... What do you mean by that?" She took a step backwards when he reached out, her heart pounded against her chest, the sound a dull roar in her ears as she tried to steady her breathing.

"S-Sorry, I... Matt is very important to me too, Gideon. Aren't you dating Finn?" She had seen it in the newspaper, much to her own horror. The Gryffindor really didn't know when to back down, did he? She had tried her best to protect him, but he was going to get devoured one way or another. The poor kid didn't stand a chance.

She swallowed, her fingers clenching the parchment tightly as she tried to ground herself, "What did you need to talk to me about?"

Gideon’s smile sharpened at the edges, a pretty, harmless thing—like a sugar-coated razor blade. The dim light of the Owlery painted him in pale strokes, the boyish curls of his hair casting shadows across his angelic face. But the eyes... those icy blue eyes didn’t match the softness of his frame. They gleamed with something darker.

He stepped closer, seeming to grow with each moment towards her as his vertebrae cracked, snapped and popped into place. A cacophony of dull sound, crescendoed by a a final, hard, crack like a broken limb as he jolted his own neck to the side. His full height, several inches taller than the girl he often pretended to be barely above eye level.

“I didn’t send you a letter, Winnie.” His voice was gentle, almost apologetic. “I wouldn’t do something like that. You’re not supposed to talk to me, remember?”

His tone twisted her words, made them sound ridiculous. Made her sound ridiculous.

“But you’re here.” He tilted his head, like a curious animal inspecting prey. “You came anyway. That’s brave.” Like dear Finny. So very brave.

"S-Sorry, I... Matt is very important to me too, Gideon. Aren't you dating Finn?"

“Finn?” Gideon let out a light laugh, soft and boyish, the kind of laugh that belonged at children’s tea parties, not in cold, shadowed towers. “Oh, Winnie… don’t be silly.” He shook his head as if she’d just told him the moon was made of cheese. "You make it sound so... simple." His voice dropped to a murmur, something that didn’t quite belong to the newly emerged monster in front of her. "But Finn and I..." He paused, letting the words hang in the air like the slow tightening of a noose. "We're entangled."

“And you…” He leaned in, he did not smell of expensive perfume, of silk or of soap. He carried with him the scent of earth, of pine sap and moss. Lowering his voice as if he were sharing a secret. “You’re a promise I made.”

Gideon reached out, slow enough not to startle her—at least not yet—but deliberate enough to let her feel the tension stringing tight between them. He didn’t touch her, not yet. Instead, his fingers grazed the edge of her coat where the pearl buttons gleamed, like teeth.

“I said I’d take care of you.”

His voice was calm. Steady. Deadly.

“Matt doesn’t really take care of you, does he? Not the way you need.” The bass in his voice felt so terribly out of place. It rumbled. He stepped closer. “Not the way I could.” Unlike Finn and Matt, he did not want to [censored] her.

“Don’t worry.” His fingers trailed the edge of her sleeve, ghosting over the fabric. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

A lie.

He leaned closer, letting the cold of his breath brush her cheek. “But I need your help, Winnie.”

Before she tried to speak, to protest or deny him, his hand would move quickly, grabbing at her wrist. In successful, his grip would be firm. Too firm for the harmless child he pretended to be.

“You don’t want to upset me, do you?”

The words were velvet-wrapped chains.

No. Of course not.

It did not matter what she answered. “I knew you wouldn’t.” His smile widened. If he was holding her, he would let go of her wrist, but not before tracing his thumb gently along the inside of it—like a knife testing the softness of skin before it cuts.

“I need you to deliver something for me.” He reached into his coat, pulling out a small black box tied with silver ribbon. Elegant. Beautiful. Deadly.

“For Finn.”

Why did he have so many teeth.

“He’s been so… sweet lately,” Gideon continued, voice dripping with amusement. “I thought he deserved a gift.”

He shrugged. A bauble that was far from a bauble for his 'sweetheart.' Knowing fully what she would actually do with the gift once it was in her possession.

“Winnie…” Gideon’s voice dipped, low and silky. “You don’t want him to get hurt, do you?”

Who was 'him'? Matt or Finn? Perhaps both.

The knife was unsheathed now—not one made of steel but words. And he wielded it well.

“It’s just a little box.” He pressed it gently into her likely trembling hands. “But if you can’t deliver it…”

He tilted his head again, smiling so sweetly.

“…I’ll have to give it to him myself.”

Interacting: @Gideon Athanatos

Outfit: ✿ | ✿

Mentioning: @Mathias Pride

English | Irish

Winnie's posture stiffened when Gideon took a step closer to her, a breath catching in her throat when he started to shift and snap into his full height. Each crack, each grotesque pop, made her want to turn on her heel and run back down the steps.

Words escaped her as she gawked up at the boy who was now several inches taller and growing with each snap, "C-Cad é an diabhal tú? What the hell are you?"

Gideon's apologetic tone only made it worse, sent his words crawling beneath her skin and making her feel insignificant. What it brave? Or had she let her stupidity lead her into another impossible situation?

Winnie took a step backwards, her heels clicking. Dammit, why had she worn heels? She couldn't even run in these things. "I came because..." Her throat felt too dry, "I thought... Mattie was in trouble..." Her admission felt hollow.

Her breath came shallow and quick, the winter air feeling too thin. His laugh was wrong, everything about him was wrong. It was like she was finally seeing beneath the curtain, discovering who the real Gideon was, the one who had tossed that girl's bag into the lake. "Entangled?" She echoed, her eyes darting towards the exit, "C-Congratulations." Poor Finn.

A flinch when he leaned in. A real one, not the kind Gideon claimed she did when Mathias touched her. "... To who?" He had definitely not promised her anything, just gave her advice. "... Have you been digging in the dirt?" Why did he smell like a boy scout who just earned a wilderness badge?

"What? He takes care of me plenty, thank you." Not that she wanted to discuss this at all with Gideon, "Let go of me! You're creeping me out!" She hissed, trying to pull his hand away from her. Why the fuck was he so strong?!

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Oh, how reassuring.

As the Ravenclaw's back brushed up against the stone tile, panic flared within her. One name slipped her lips as fear settled across her form, "Mattie..." But he would not come, would not save her. Gideon was too close, way too close for comfort. Her free hand pressed against the textured stone, her eyes squeezing shut when he grabbed her.

This was it. This was how she died; alone in the owlery with her fiancé's psychopath brother.

She wanted to burst into tears and beg the terrifying height shapeshifter to reconsider. She had no desire to hurt Finn. She wanted her mum. She wanted Matt, she—Remembered something he had told her mere weeks before. 'I want someone who fights. Someone that is strong enough to stand by me, even when the whole world is against us.'

But death did not come, instead a request. She opened one eye, and it flickered down to the box, "... What? Seriously? That's it, a box? That's what you got me all worked up for?!" She huffed in annoyance, staring down at the offending gift.

Another threat came, “you don’t want him to get hurt, do you?”

Her tears did not spill; burned away by something new that settled into her gut; rage. She was tired of being scared, tired of being a puppet. Her eyes narrowed. With the box still clenched in her hands, she took a step towards one of the open windows. "No." Her voice shook as she spoke, but the firmness of her defiance was still present.

The cold winter air nipped at the skin of her face as she hovered the box outside of the window. "Lets play a game instead, little brother." She suggested as a 'playful' callback to their first conversation. "I'll race you; whoever gets to the box first wins. Loser has to open it."

She would not wait for him to respond, and would only flash him a smile before releasing the tiny box. "Ready? Set? GO!"

There was a flash of copper as the fifth year suddenly transformed into a feathered tail duck toller. She spun on agile paws, claws scraping against the cold stone floor as she rushed towards the stone staircase. An echo of loud barks followed her, as she attempted to startle the owls and give herself an advantage.

Gideon Athanatos stood frozen for the briefest moment, his sharp blue eyes following the arc of the small black gift box he had so meticulously wrapped as it tumbled through the winter air outside the Owlery. So careless with the unknown package, what was she thinking?

It was obvious that there was no thought involved in this exercise.

He had no delusion that Winnie would become a delivery girl for him. What sort of fun would there have been in that? What he found interesting was the familiarity that she had referenced Finnegan with, the papers could not even get the Gryffindor's name right and yet she recognized him and was now protecting him from an unseen threat.

The girl—no, the dog—had made her move, and it was the wrong one. A slow, menacing grin spread across his face as her barking echoed through the stone chamber, stirring a cacophony of frantic hoots from the startled owls. The cold air bit at his skin where the open window yawned behind him, but he didn't flinch.

Instead, Gideon stepped forward, his shadow stretching ominously across the stone as he reached up and slammed the Owlery window shut with deliberate force.

"That," he muttered, his voice low and dark as it echoed around the chamber, "was a very stupid mistake, Winnie."

Without the box, without her wand, and without her usual human form, she had rendered herself vulnerable. No wand, no magic, and no way to defend herself against what was coming next. In fact, she was clumsier in this unfamiliar form, ironically an easier target.

Gideon turned on his heel, striding toward the staircase with an almost leisurely pace. There was no need to hurry; she couldn’t outrun his magic. He was a predator, and she had just made herself prey.

"You should’ve listened," he called after her, his voice ringing with a cruel mockery that cut through the commotion of wings, screeches and yipping barks. "This is how you take care of someone, Winnie. You make them realize just how small they are." So small that they are inconsequential.

As he reached the top of the spiral staircase, he braced himself against the cold stone wall, leaning forward to watch her descent. Her claws scraped frantically against the worn steps, her agile frame darting down the spiraling passage. Gideon tilted his head, his eyes narrowing with an unsettling hunger as he calculated her every move. Again, making herself an easy target with such a reliable path of egress.

With a flick of his wrist, Gideon drew his wand—polished and slender, with an air of elegance that matched his outward facade. The dichotomy of the wand wood was not lost on the teen as he briefly admired it. Suited to both heal and harm. Pointing his wand downward, the Hufflepuff murmured a single incantation, his tone calm and controlled.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Ironically Petrificus Totalus was the wizard's "boyfriend's" favored spell, just Gideon knew how to use it right. The curse shot through the air, aimed to absolutely harm. A sudden loss of movement with preserved velocity on the spirling stair was not only dangerous, but potentially lethal. A hit would be enough to not only make her stumble, but to make her fall stiffly down the stairs. He did not expect that to be truly devastating; disappointingly the spiral of the twisting stair would capture her quickly. The point was to remind her that this was not a fair fight. This was not a game. That her best outcome would have only come from compliance. That was Gideon's lesson on this day.

Gideon moved again, descending the stairs with an eerie grace, his footsteps soft and deliberate as they echoed against the stone.

"You think you're clever, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice drifting toward her like a shadow creeping through the dark. "Dropping the box, running away... It’s almost endearing, really. You wanted to fight, to show some of that fire Mattie loves so much. But here’s the thing about fire, Winnie—"

His voice dropped lower, colder, as he descended another step, his figure looming above her.

"—I always snuff it out."

He didn’t lunge, not yet. Instead, if she was not frozen in a state of terror, he would allow her to run, to bark, to claw her way toward an imagined escape. He wanted her to feel it—the inevitability of his presence, the weight of her mistake.

If she was bound, he was going to enjoy it. The vulnerability. The desperate gleam in her eyes. The want to then plead but find herself unable to. Her body was no longer her own, her body was an object for him to do as he pleased with.

And then, when she least expected it, when her focus was on the staircase beneath her paws or her terror had reached its climax, Gideon moved.

Interacting: @Gideon Athanatos

Outfit: ✿ | ✿

Mentioning: @Mathias Pride | @Evelynn Decipio | @Aly Salinger | @Dealla Prince | @Finnegan Connor | @Percival Gray

English | Irish

She could feel her pulse pounding against her ear drums. Run. She screamed at herself, willing her furry legs to go faster. RUN. The stone beneath her paws was too foreign. She had no wand, no way to defend herself. RUN. This had been a terrible idea. At least the squawking owls were helping cover her.

“You should’ve listened,” The Ravenclaw heard his words behind her. The element of surprise had not worked in her favour. "This is how you take care of someone, Winnie. You make them realize just how small they are."

Her muscles burned, she could taste copper in the back of her throat. She told herself she could do this, she was muscular enough, strong enough to make it before Gideon could catch up to her. Years of playing Quidditch had prepared her—

"Petrificus Totalus."

Her paws stiffened mid-step, an dull icy feeling spreading through her body as his spell slammed into her. Only a whimper escaped her when she tried to call out for help. She felt her body lurch forward, her frozen frame still propelled by the momentum of her descent. Her body scraped against the stone as she was sent sliding down the spiral staircase, the rough stone gnawing at her flesh. Eventually the curved stairwell stopped her descent.

'No...' She screamed internally, her eyes darting around, 'This can't be it, this can't be...'

"You think you're clever, don’t you?" Winnie could do nothing but stare blankly upwards as she heard his footsteps growing closer. She was at his mercy now, unable to even speak and beg him not to do this.

"Dropping the box, running away... It’s almost endearing, really. You wanted to fight, to show some of that fire Mattie loves so much. But here’s the thing about fire, Winnie—"

Her heart thundered against her chest, her scraped skin burning in pain. She begged silently, her eyes flickering up to watch his form grow closer, looming over her like the monster in so many of the fables her mother used to read her at night. 'Please—Mattie, Evie, Percival, Aly, Dee, Finn—I don't want to die—Help me, help—'

"—I always snuff it out."

The sharp edge of reality was worse than whatever Gideon was about to do to her. This couldn't be the end, it just couldn't be.

With a sudden burst of speed, Gideon closed the distance, reaching out to grab at the scruff of Winnie's neck. Her animagus, a bitch of all things was painfully ironic. She had tried to protect herself by becoming more vulnerable. She could nt even scream for help. Tell anyone the truth of the man whose footfalls sounded like thunder. He pulled the stiff mongrel towards himself, he wanted to remind her exactly who she was dealing with.

His voice, when it came again, was soft and venomous.

"Now, let’s finish our little game, shall we?"

He would carry Winnie back to the owlery, trapped in the form she had spent months to master. A vessel of fur that she had willfully trapped herself in. He leaned her against the wall like some sort of life-sized figurine while he opened the window. The window groaned as Gideon Athanatos wrenched it open again, the frigid wind cutting through the Owlery like a blade. His breath hung in the air, curling like smoke, but there was no warmth in his expression—only the sharp, predatory glint of pale blue eyes as they dropped to the unmoving, copper-furred dog.

Winnie was not able to scramble, to bark, claw or scratch. She could not do anything, not even scream. His fingers curled into the thick fur at the scruff of her neck, twisting, gripping hard enough that she could feel it.

“Shh…” Gideon mocked. His voice was soft. Soothing. It dripped with false tenderness as he pulled her closer, his breath brushing over the pointed ears flattened against her head. “There, there. It’s all over now.”

And it was.

He hoisted her up, holding her still form with an unsettling ease—like a child holding a stuffed animal. But this wasn’t playtime. This was a purge.

Gideon stepped to the edge of the window, the cold air stirring his hair as his eyes dropped to the snow-covered ground below. It wasn’t the fall itself that would hurt, maybe even kill her; it was the landing. The broken bones. The suffocating weight of snow filling her lungs when she couldn’t crawl free fast enough.

"You should’ve been grateful," he whispered. His lips curled into something that could’ve been mistaken for sadness, but his eyes betrayed the truth. There was no remorse. "I gave you a chance. A way out. And you spat on it."

He leaned forward, just enough to let her paws dangle over the ledge, and then—he let go.

For one, terrible moment, there was silence.

And then—the sound.

The sharp crack of bones splintering as her body hit the frozen snow below. Nothing else echoed upward, the truth swallowed almost instantly by the wind. Gideon watched, leaning against the window frame, his sharp, glacial eyes unblinking.

The problem with a silent death was that there was no witnesses. Oh well he thought to himself.

There really was no rush to check, she was not going anywhere. There was no guilt twisting in his chest. Only an eerie calm as he flicked his wand and whispered, “Accio.”

The little black box soared back to him, landing delicately in his outstretched hand. He closed his fingers around it and stepped back from the ledge, giving the window one last lingering glance.

And then, he screamed.

“NO! OH GODS, NO! WINNIE—SHE JUMPED!”

His voice cracked, shrill and panicked, echoing through the Owlery and down the staircase. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! SHE—SHE JUST JUMPED!”

He stumbled away from the window, the black box clutched against his chest as though it were a lifeline. He fell to his knees, hands trembling, tears—fake but convincing—slipping down his cheeks.

The perfect picture of a distraught, innocent boy who had just witnessed something unspeakable.

And even as he cried out, even as his voice carried down the corridors and summoned footsteps to his aid, Gideon smiled.

Not outwardly. No. But somewhere deep inside, where no one could see.

Because it had worked. It had all worked.

And now? Now they’d all see her as broken. Fragile. Suicidal. The girl who cracked under pressure and threw herself from a window.

A tragedy, they’d call it. A tragedy with no one to blame.

Reaction posts are welcome as this was never a private thread.

Notification: @Mathias Pride | @Evelynn Decipio | @Aly Salinger |
@Dealla Prince | @Finnegan Connor | @Percival Gray

Mathias Pride stood in the frosted courtyard, sharp eyes scanning the grounds, the tight clench of his jaw betraying the irritation simmering beneath his carefully curated composure. Gideon had told him to meet him in the Courtyard and the little rat as a no-show. Gideon was always a dangerous wildcard, but in Hogwarts he was willing to remain inert. It was at home that his true sadism would erupt in bursts. Animals and Aamon especially were not safe to be left alone with him and for good reason. But that was the extent of Gideon's reign of terror. But something had recently awoken in Gideon, a restlessness, a stirring that had drawn the monster out.

He knew that Finnegan had no actual interest in his brother. The angle was painfully obvious, his sick obsession with the Athanatos family. Trailing whispers and rumors spun like webs around his brother, Gideon, and the insipid Hufflepuff who had dared to make headlines alongside him. It mattered not, Mathias' plans were clear, his next moves calculated. Everything was under control.

Until it wasn’t.

A shadow fell.

It dropped like a broken star from the heavens—a flash of copper, a sickening crack as it collided with the frozen earth. The sound echoed like a curse, shattering the serenity of the snow-laden grounds.

For a moment, Mathias didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He did not know it was her. How could he? He just saw a copper form fall from the owlery. Yet something in his soul fractured just then. As if a part of him knew it was her. His breath hitched. The world around him blurred, the edges fraying, his focus tunneling on the figure crumpled in the snow.

No.

The single word rang through his skull as his legs carried him forward, fast—faster than he thought he could move—his polished shoes cutting through the frost, crunching over ice and dead leaves. No. No, no, no.

He reached her. Her.

Winnie.

He knew the coat, petal pink and wool. The over-sized pearl-like buttons. The mass of red hair. But why was she bent this way. Legs do not bend like that. His knees hit the ground, snow seeping into the fine fabric of his trousers, but he didn’t care. His gloved hands trembled as they brushed the strands of copper hair splayed like blood across the white canvas of winter. Don’t be dead. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not her.

“Winnie.” His voice cracked as he leaned closer, the chill of the air nothing compared to the ice flooding his veins. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He shivered, trying to hold back tears and bile. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

His mind whirled, a hurricane of memories and fury. She was warm, still warm, but her breath came in shallow gasps, her pink coat rising and falling unsteadily. She was alive—but barely.

Something snapped in him. A fault line, deep and jagged.

She had to be okay. She had to be okay because he wouldn’t allow any other outcome. She was his. She belonged to him, and he had shaped her—molded her into something beautiful and fragile, and that fragility made him feel powerful, needed. She was the only thing in this godforsaken world that tethered him, the only person he could shape and control and keep close.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, his trembling fingers pushing back the strands of hair from her face, blood smudging the white lace at her collar. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Not like my mother. Not like her.

His breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts, the weight of her crumpled form pressing against his knees. The raw panic simmering beneath his skin transformed, igniting into something darker—something violent. Who did this? Who dared to touch what was his?

A sudden movement above caught his eye. G̴̛̛̞͈̹̦̍͐̽̽̽͝ͅị̶̰̜̈́̈́́̎́̌͐̑̈́d̷̗͇̳͚͉͖̦͙̜́̆é̷̜̇̎͝o̸̝̜͛n̷͒̔̋̓ͅ.

Gideon standing at the Owlery window.

It clicked, a realization that struck him so hard it felt like a physical blow to the chest. The screams Gideon had let out moments before now rang false, hollow, and Mathias knew.

His blood boiled.

“YOU.” The roar that tore from his throat echoed against the stone walls, sending startled birds scattering into the sky. His vision tunneled, locking onto the figure above. “YOU DID THIS!”

But he didn’t move. Not yet. Not with Winnie here. Broken. Vulnerable. Alive.

Instead, his trembling hands moved with precision, scooping her up like something sacred, fragile, and precious. She was light, too light, and her breath was too faint against his throat as he cradled her close. He could feel her broken bones crumble and grind as he tried to move her. A shock of regret flashed through him as he let her go.

This wasn’t over.

It would never be over.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice raw. Not her. Never her.

He fumbled and tried to find his wand. Always so ready, so calculated. But not now. "HELP, someone HELP! Winnie fell!"

"Episkey. EPISKEY!"

Aamon Athanatos had seen death before.

It crept in whispers through the corridors of his family’s estate. It hung heavy in the air like the scent of rotting roses, sweet but sickening, soaked into the very foundations of their bloodline. But this—this was different. This was falling. No, this was impacting. I was not the fall that broke Winnie Harper, it was the landing.

He had come to the courtyard because Gideon asked.

Giddy. Sweet Giddy. Soft-voiced and wide-eyed, the one who had always seemed so harmless despite the cruel words that were hissed about him at home. A viper in a lamb’s skin, they had called him. Aamon never believed it. Not really. Gideon was kind to him when the others weren’t. Gideon didn’t sneer when Aamon flinched. Gideon didn’t call him a coward—never said it to his face, anyway. Accidents sometimes happened, but Giddy cried just as loud, if not louder than he did. His family rarely believed him, but they would often say that to his back. His family could be cruel at times. They did not always understand, but Aamon did.

So when the note came, folded and neat, asking for his help in the courtyard, Aamon didn’t hesitate.

Giddy was a no-show. Aamon was mildly disappointed, not really mad because he had nothing better to do. He had been running scared since he stepped foot in Hogwarts and while he was not always on the best of terms with his family, there was something comforting about the familiar.

But now—this.

A... dog? Fell.

No—a girl.

He hadn’t seen it, hadn’t seen the moment her body tumbled from the Owlery. there was no scream, no call for help before the descent. Just the jarring sound of her body hitting the frozen ground that made his blood run cold. There was a scream, his own. High, sharp, and stolen by the wind. A sound that cut through the brittle winter air.

Aamon couldn’t move.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

The breath lodged in his throat as Mathias Pride, looming and furious, dropped to his knees beside Winnie. Winnie looked wrong, twisted and misshapen. How was he sure that it was even her? Just pink and red? She jumped. That was simply mad. Then there was Mathias. Matt was always furious, but this—this was something else entirely. His screams tore through the courtyard, raw and guttural.

Aamon stumbled back, pressing himself into the shadows beneath the archway. He couldn’t be seen. Not by Mathias—not now. Not with blood blooming across the snow. Not when his hands were already trembling.

What have I done?

The dolls. It had to be the dolls. It was always the dolls.

They didn’t stop—not even when he burned them. Not even when he buried the scraps and ashes beneath the roots of the old yew tree. He had felt it—felt their eyes watching.

They hated Winnie. He should’ve known. He should’ve warned her. But she was far enough from him. He thought she was safe.

It’s your fault.

The words rang louder than Mathias’ howls. His hands clawed at his sleeves, gripping the fabric as though tearing it would somehow erase the guilt clinging to his skin.

But then—Gideon.

Aamon’s eyes snapped up to the Owlery window. Gideon was there.

Giddy. Sweet, harmless Giddy, who wouldn’t hurt a flobberworm. Giddy, who had called him out here.

“I can’t believe she jumped!”

The words hit like a curse.

She jumped.

No—no, that couldn’t be right. Winnie wouldn’t jump.

But then… maybe? Mathias had told him she was fragile. A pretty doll wrapped in silk. Maybe she cracked. Maybe the dolls had gotten to her too, whispering things—dark things—things like they whispered to him in the dead of night.

Oh gods. He did not help her. He did not see it. Be it the dolls or her deteriorating mental state.

His feet finally moved, boots slipping over the icy stones as he scrambled toward them—toward Mathias, toward Winnie. His knees hit the snow, sending white powder scattering as he knelt beside her. His hands hovered uselessly, afraid to touch, afraid to make it worse.

“W-Winnie?” His voice cracked. “Winnie, can you hear me? It’s Aamon. It’s—”

She didn’t stir.

His chest seized. She’s alive. She has to be.

But Mathias’ eyes. Mathias’ eyes weren’t looking at her anymore. They were looking up.

At Gideon.

Aamon swallowed hard, following the gaze, but all he saw was Giddy. Sweet, harmless Giddy who had always smiled at him when no one else did.

Gideon wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t like Mathias.

He wouldn’t—

Would he?

No. No. No.

“Help her,” Aamon pleaded, though he wasn’t sure who he was speaking to—Mathias? The gods? Gideon?

Interacting: @Gideon Athanatos

Outfit: ✿ | ✿

Mentioning: @Mathias Pride | @Evelynn Decipio | @Aly Salinger

English | Irish

She felt her stomach drop long before her body did as Gideon's fingers sunk into her flesh. Her mind screamed louder than it ever had before, but no sound came from her lips. Her body dangled helplessly, her paws limp as the icy wind stung her face. She wanted to fight, claw him, bite him, do something, ANYTHING, but she could not.

This couldn't be it, it just couldn't be. She had so much to live for. It wasn't the end—

But then he dropped her.

The world blurred, turning into a kaleidoscope of stone, snow, and sky as she plummeted. The wind screeched against her ears, but she found herself lost in a cascade of thoughts. Memories of people she treasured. The face of her mother appeared in her mind's eye.

A flashback to her first year, she had been wide eyed as she watched her first Quidditch game, enchanted by the players soaring through the sky. They had looked so regal, despite the violence the game evoked. She had joined the end of the year, had met one of her besties, Aly. She'd never get to fly with her again.

"...I think we might be sisters." Eve said in a more recent memory, they had cried and hugged, the hope of a life spent together as family. One that would never come to fruition.

"You have my heart, and I have yours." Matt had told her. It was the closest he'd ever gotten to saying 'I love you'. His words returned to her now, breaking through the fear, “You want to know why I chose you? Why it had to be you? It’s because, no matter how much you doubt yourself, I’ve never doubted you. Not once. You think I keep pulling away because I don’t care? It’s the opposite. I pull away because if I let myself feel too much, I’ll destroy everything just to keep you.”

The ground stole her thoughts from her as her body slammed into it with a sickening crack that echoed through the crisp winter air. She felt nothing at first, too in shock as she realized she had transformed back into her human form, but her legs and arms were bent unnaturally. The snow had cushioned her fall, but not enough. There was a crimson bloom beneath her, staining the pure white.

Then, the agony came. Searing through her nerves like fire. It was everywhere, consuming her entirely. She struggled to stay conscious as she took in shallow laboured breaths, hot tears burned her cheeks. She could not move, she was no better than a broken doll laying discarded in the snow.

“Winnie.”

Her blue eyes flickered weakly, her vision narrowing. Still, her fading consciousness clung to the sound of his voice. 'It's okay; Matt's here.' A comforting voice inside her head said. "Mattie." Was all she could manage to rasp, lips and body trembling violently at the effort.

Then the world around her faded to black.