30 Dec 2024, 02:13
This is not fine
January 13, Evening, Great Hall.
Finnegan sat alone at the Gryffindor table, a solitary figure swallowed by the semi-darkness of the Great Hall. Only a few of the floating candles still burned overhead, and it would not be long before a Professor or Prefect urged him back to his dormitory, the last place on earth he wished to be.
His fork scraped sadly against his plate as he pushed around the same cold potatoes he'd been staring at for the past half hour. The food had long since congealed into a colourless, tasteless grey mass. Clink. Clink. Clink. He moved the food about, but he still wasn't hungry.
The day had aged him, not in years or wrinkles, but in stretching him, hollowing him out, causing his hands to spasm involuntarily, causing his knees to knock together in sudden shudders, causing his legs to feel unsteady like a drunk's.
He hunched forward like an old man. His school robes, already slightly too big for his willowy frame, seemed to swallow him whole. The sleeves slipped past his knuckles as he gripped his fork tighter, a futile attempt to stop the small tremors.
"You are but a tool, and a broken one at that."
Who could have guessed that words held such power? Two whole days had passed, yet Thaddeus's voice still haunted him, mocked him, and bound him no matter the hour.
His thoughts kept circling back to his mam, dad, and sister. They had no clue. They'd never heard him so much as whisper the name Athanatos. They had no idea that he'd been stabbed—or worse, that he'd thought himself clever for befriending his attacker, for kissing him. Bile rose in his throat. He had foolishly believed he could outwit Gideon, even outsmart Thaddeus. What an idiot he'd been. Everyone who had ever called him a bludgerhead, a numpty, or an honest-to-goodness idiot had been right. He was so stupid he couldn't even grasp the full extent of his own stupidity.
Maybe he should go to Professor Lecuyer.
His fork clattered against the plate as his hand spasmed. For a moment, proper hate flared inside him—the kind that made you tense up and want to smash things. He hated Thaddeus with his too-many teeth. He hated Gideon, who loved nothing more than tearing him apart. But what good was hate against people like them? The permission slip for Hogsmeade visits sat crisp in his trunk, signed only months ago by parents who had smiled and called him their "big boy." Meanwhile, his mother still cut the crusts off his sandwiches when he was home.
The candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows across his face. They reminded him of the way shadows had moved in that empty pub, stretching and writhing like living things. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memory refused to leave.
When he opened them again, his vision blurred, but no tears came. He had none left to cry. Only a vast emptiness remained, and it filled steadily with a terrible knowledge: he was completely and utterly alone.
Reducio
You are free to make reasonable assumptions about Finn's tired appearance and position in the Great Hall given the context above if you need to. Light godmoding is permitted if need be.
You are free to make reasonable assumptions about Finn's tired appearance and position in the Great Hall given the context above if you need to. Light godmoding is permitted if need be.
@Remedy Norden
Last edited by Finnegan Connor on 16 Jan 2025, 17:34, edited 1 time in total.
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
30 Dec 2024, 04:21
This is not fine
❝ a mask won't hide who you are inside, ❠
──────────────────────────
──────────────────────────| ----------- |
|
----------- |
30 Dec 2024, 16:57
This is not fine
Not alone after all.
A shuffle had sounded, then a rustle, like belongings being gathered up. Sounds alone were unreliable witnesses in a place like this, it could be a ghost, a stray pet, a skittish house-elf sweeping up crumbs. He dismissed the meaningless noise and returned to wallow in his swamp of pity and despair.
Then a scrape of wood over stone broke the dread silence and soon after a girl hovered at the edge of his vision. Why couldn't people just leave him alone? Had she always been there or had she slipped in silently? Was it another first-year come to lecture him on where he wasn't permitted to have his mental breakdowns? He scoffed at the thought, but lacked the energy to shoo her away. She stood at a distance still, a slender silhouette in the low light, hazy and indeterminate but too solid to be a ghost, and surely too tall to be a house-elf.
Was she staring at him?
He pushed his plate aside, put his arms length-wise on the table and rested his head on top of the miserable heap. Anyone with a pulse would be able to tell from his aggressive looking away, staring at the wall, that he did not wish to be disturbed or worse, helped.
Light footfalls approached, either hesitant or considerate, perhaps both.
"Finn...?"
He closed his eyes slowly. Please go away.
"Is it okay if I sit here awhile with you?"
Who was it? That voice... Every word was spoken clearly, elegantly, but perhaps not as softly as expected, yet the sound was ageless, neither childish nor mature. Who is it? Who was this unnamed colour in his world of black and white?
Slowly, begrudgingly, he lifted his head and turned it the other way to regard the stranger who had imposed herself upon him. The last person to do so had received a scorching rebuttal, but now he found curiosity instead of anger welling up through his tired, slouched frame.
Ms. Norden?
A faint and fleeting smirk crept across his features, the only sign that somewhere within the hopeless arrangement of skinny limbs, the boy still lived. But by the time she blinked, it would be gone.
His eyes, a muted hazel, lingered too long upon her, flicking this way and that, silently taking the measure of her. Like a sped-up film of a growing flower, his curiosity punched up through fertile soil, sprouted leaves and opened its petals to the sun and wind. He had always prided himself on his ability to get a quick read on people. People were like books—some were open, some were closed, some were heavy, and some were small. Some were dog-eared and worn, some had their secrets scrawled in the margins, and some were neat and unblemished, still smelling faintly of ink and crisp paper.
Remedy Norden was different. She was the Voynich manuscript—one couldn't help but look at her rich illustrations, the mysterious writing that promised secret knowledge, the astronomical diagrams and magic symbols, the illustrations of plants unseen accompanied by words unspoken. It was hard to rip his gaze from her, to return to stubbornly staring at his feet, the last act in his theatrical display where he still pretended that he wanted her gone.
It lasted mere seconds.
He rested his chin on his arms, eyes once again drawn to the strange girl who was so opposite to him. There was a hint of @Evelynn Decipio in her, something poised and reserved, yet lacking the sternness that Evelynn armored herself with. Outwardly, there was little resemblance, her long, straight hair bore no liking to Eve's short, meticulous cut. Maybe there was some of @June Selwyn in there too, shrewdness and ambition captured by almond eyes, the sorting hat had picked up on that too.
At long last he arched a single eyebrow at her. "What are you doing here?"
A shuffle had sounded, then a rustle, like belongings being gathered up. Sounds alone were unreliable witnesses in a place like this, it could be a ghost, a stray pet, a skittish house-elf sweeping up crumbs. He dismissed the meaningless noise and returned to wallow in his swamp of pity and despair.
Then a scrape of wood over stone broke the dread silence and soon after a girl hovered at the edge of his vision. Why couldn't people just leave him alone? Had she always been there or had she slipped in silently? Was it another first-year come to lecture him on where he wasn't permitted to have his mental breakdowns? He scoffed at the thought, but lacked the energy to shoo her away. She stood at a distance still, a slender silhouette in the low light, hazy and indeterminate but too solid to be a ghost, and surely too tall to be a house-elf.
Was she staring at him?
He pushed his plate aside, put his arms length-wise on the table and rested his head on top of the miserable heap. Anyone with a pulse would be able to tell from his aggressive looking away, staring at the wall, that he did not wish to be disturbed or worse, helped.
Light footfalls approached, either hesitant or considerate, perhaps both.
"Finn...?"
He closed his eyes slowly. Please go away.
"Is it okay if I sit here awhile with you?"
Who was it? That voice... Every word was spoken clearly, elegantly, but perhaps not as softly as expected, yet the sound was ageless, neither childish nor mature. Who is it? Who was this unnamed colour in his world of black and white?
Slowly, begrudgingly, he lifted his head and turned it the other way to regard the stranger who had imposed herself upon him. The last person to do so had received a scorching rebuttal, but now he found curiosity instead of anger welling up through his tired, slouched frame.
Ms. Norden?
A faint and fleeting smirk crept across his features, the only sign that somewhere within the hopeless arrangement of skinny limbs, the boy still lived. But by the time she blinked, it would be gone.
His eyes, a muted hazel, lingered too long upon her, flicking this way and that, silently taking the measure of her. Like a sped-up film of a growing flower, his curiosity punched up through fertile soil, sprouted leaves and opened its petals to the sun and wind. He had always prided himself on his ability to get a quick read on people. People were like books—some were open, some were closed, some were heavy, and some were small. Some were dog-eared and worn, some had their secrets scrawled in the margins, and some were neat and unblemished, still smelling faintly of ink and crisp paper.
Remedy Norden was different. She was the Voynich manuscript—one couldn't help but look at her rich illustrations, the mysterious writing that promised secret knowledge, the astronomical diagrams and magic symbols, the illustrations of plants unseen accompanied by words unspoken. It was hard to rip his gaze from her, to return to stubbornly staring at his feet, the last act in his theatrical display where he still pretended that he wanted her gone.
It lasted mere seconds.
He rested his chin on his arms, eyes once again drawn to the strange girl who was so opposite to him. There was a hint of @Evelynn Decipio in her, something poised and reserved, yet lacking the sternness that Evelynn armored herself with. Outwardly, there was little resemblance, her long, straight hair bore no liking to Eve's short, meticulous cut. Maybe there was some of @June Selwyn in there too, shrewdness and ambition captured by almond eyes, the sorting hat had picked up on that too.
At long last he arched a single eyebrow at her. "What are you doing here?"
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
31 Dec 2024, 03:47
This is not fine
❝ a mask won't hide who you are inside, ❠
──────────────────────────
──────────────────────────| ----------- |
|
----------- |
31 Dec 2024, 17:26
This is not fine
Whereas he might be tempted to quip and fill the silence with anyone else, he found himself quite at ease saying nothing for a while. Her presence, though unusual, making him feel just a little less lonely.
After a short while, Finnegan lifted his head slightly, his posture easing up. There was something disarming about the way Remedy spoke—was she just pretending to care? He squinted at her through the gloom, trying to guess at her motives, but found nothing but earnestness in her carefully chosen words. Strange how someone he hardly knew showed more concern for his well-being than someone he'd spent many hours laughing and practicing charms with.
"At least you remember," he muttered. "Seems everyone else has forgotten." He sat up straighter, his shoulders squaring as they remembered their proper place. "I didn't even get a cool eyepatch out of it," he chuckled darkly. The cold food was given one final, hesitant look before he met her eyes again. "Remedy," her name tasted strange on his lips, "do yourself a favor and stay away from the balls. I'm not the first to get hurt and I doubt I'll be the last."
As she spoke about wanting to check on him sooner, he studied her face with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. Yet her cheeks had taken on a rosy tint, and her usual composure seemed to waver. Either she was the most deceitful girl he'd ever met or she was being earnest and actually cared. Bex had cared, Eve had cared, Pericles had certainly cared too, but those friendships had come under increasing duress. "You're more of a friend than June ever was," he bemoaned @June Selwyn, "isn't she in the same dormitory as you? She never bothered saying anything about it, she-" he stopped himself there before he said anything else that he might come to regret. "You have nothing to apologize for."
He frowned at seeing her composure falter. She'd always seemed someone who kept herself in check, so what was haunting her? Some memory perhaps? Was she too tied up in the web of accidents that had plagued Hogwarts for years? He reached out across the table, placing his hand briefly on hers. "Are you alright? Is something bothering you?"
After a short while, Finnegan lifted his head slightly, his posture easing up. There was something disarming about the way Remedy spoke—was she just pretending to care? He squinted at her through the gloom, trying to guess at her motives, but found nothing but earnestness in her carefully chosen words. Strange how someone he hardly knew showed more concern for his well-being than someone he'd spent many hours laughing and practicing charms with.
"At least you remember," he muttered. "Seems everyone else has forgotten." He sat up straighter, his shoulders squaring as they remembered their proper place. "I didn't even get a cool eyepatch out of it," he chuckled darkly. The cold food was given one final, hesitant look before he met her eyes again. "Remedy," her name tasted strange on his lips, "do yourself a favor and stay away from the balls. I'm not the first to get hurt and I doubt I'll be the last."
As she spoke about wanting to check on him sooner, he studied her face with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. Yet her cheeks had taken on a rosy tint, and her usual composure seemed to waver. Either she was the most deceitful girl he'd ever met or she was being earnest and actually cared. Bex had cared, Eve had cared, Pericles had certainly cared too, but those friendships had come under increasing duress. "You're more of a friend than June ever was," he bemoaned @June Selwyn, "isn't she in the same dormitory as you? She never bothered saying anything about it, she-" he stopped himself there before he said anything else that he might come to regret. "You have nothing to apologize for."
He frowned at seeing her composure falter. She'd always seemed someone who kept herself in check, so what was haunting her? Some memory perhaps? Was she too tied up in the web of accidents that had plagued Hogwarts for years? He reached out across the table, placing his hand briefly on hers. "Are you alright? Is something bothering you?"
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
2 Jan 2025, 02:59
This is not fine
❝ a mask won't hide who you are inside, ❠
──────────────────────────
──────────────────────────| ----------- |
|
----------- |
4 Jan 2025, 04:41
This is not fine
Finnegan stared at their joined hands, struck by how easily they had joined; his stubby and warm, hers elegant, light and clammy to the touch. The dim candles overhead caught a strange gleam in his eye as he regarded her.
He found himself leaning forward slightly, drawn in by the way her voice dipped and rose, how her dark eyes seemed to swim with emotion. There was something mesmerizing about watching someone as composed as Remedy let their guard down.
Word by word, the Great Hall shrunk around them until it felt like they were the only two people left in the castle, maybe even the world. It was mad, really. Here sat Remedy Norden—proper, pureblood Remedy Norden—confiding in him about feeling alone, about being afraid.
"I don't feel like I have anyone most days
"I'll be there," he said softly, giving her a quick squeeze before he retreated his hand. "You're far braver than you think, Remedy, and I don't just mean that time you stood up to me. I mean... well, it takes heart to admit when you've been wrong about something. Most people just dig their heels in deeper." He offered her a small, crooked smile. "You're much better than that. And you're not cursed, Remedy. Bad things happen to good people all the time, no matter if you meant well, no matter if you did the right thing, some people @Aamon Athanatos are just incapable of being grateful."
It all tasted so strange in his mouth, the things he was telling her. Just moments ago he had been wallowing in his own guilt and now he was giving out advice and consoling her? There was something about her vulnerability that made him want to be stronger, better, to sit a little straighter, to help her through her doubts.
Her admission about her changed beliefs had stirred something in him. She'd called him genuine, true, but he was undeserving. While she was being honest about her mistakes, he still carried his own dark secrets.
He drew in a shaky breath and cast a weary glance over his shoulder, ensuring once more that they were well and truly alone. Then he leaned in close across the table and quietly beckoned her to lean in too, so he could whisper into her ear. "I have made mistakes too, Remedy. I got in with some bad people..." For a short while she would hear nothing but him holding his breath, trying to find the right words. How exactly where you supposed to go about telling someone you met one of the most famous and influential wizards in living history?
"I met Thaddeus Athanatos..." There was a gulp there and for perhaps the first time, Remedy might notice true fear in his voice, raw and real, thinning out his voice. "...he doesn't like me very much. I made a very bad mistake..."
He leaned back then and now she would find herself staring in some kind of mirror. To her he would seem just like she had to him: strangely vulnerable, out of his depth, frightened and alone.
"I'd tell you more, but not here... I know a place though, Seventh Floor, it's safe there, at least I think it is. But I have to warn you Remedy, if I tell you what I know, why you might think you're cursed, but why I know you're not, if I tell you that, there won't be any turning back from it. Not ever. We're not the only ones getting hurt, and it's no coincidence." He got up then, dusted himself off and would wait only a few moments should Remedy decide to follow him to the Seventh Floor. "You don't have to come Remedy, in fact, if you're as smart as I think you are, you'd do well to choose happy ignorance."
He found himself leaning forward slightly, drawn in by the way her voice dipped and rose, how her dark eyes seemed to swim with emotion. There was something mesmerizing about watching someone as composed as Remedy let their guard down.
Word by word, the Great Hall shrunk around them until it felt like they were the only two people left in the castle, maybe even the world. It was mad, really. Here sat Remedy Norden—proper, pureblood Remedy Norden—confiding in him about feeling alone, about being afraid.
"I don't feel like I have anyone most days
"I'll be there," he said softly, giving her a quick squeeze before he retreated his hand. "You're far braver than you think, Remedy, and I don't just mean that time you stood up to me. I mean... well, it takes heart to admit when you've been wrong about something. Most people just dig their heels in deeper." He offered her a small, crooked smile. "You're much better than that. And you're not cursed, Remedy. Bad things happen to good people all the time, no matter if you meant well, no matter if you did the right thing, some people @Aamon Athanatos are just incapable of being grateful."
It all tasted so strange in his mouth, the things he was telling her. Just moments ago he had been wallowing in his own guilt and now he was giving out advice and consoling her? There was something about her vulnerability that made him want to be stronger, better, to sit a little straighter, to help her through her doubts.
Her admission about her changed beliefs had stirred something in him. She'd called him genuine, true, but he was undeserving. While she was being honest about her mistakes, he still carried his own dark secrets.
He drew in a shaky breath and cast a weary glance over his shoulder, ensuring once more that they were well and truly alone. Then he leaned in close across the table and quietly beckoned her to lean in too, so he could whisper into her ear. "I have made mistakes too, Remedy. I got in with some bad people..." For a short while she would hear nothing but him holding his breath, trying to find the right words. How exactly where you supposed to go about telling someone you met one of the most famous and influential wizards in living history?
"I met Thaddeus Athanatos..." There was a gulp there and for perhaps the first time, Remedy might notice true fear in his voice, raw and real, thinning out his voice. "...he doesn't like me very much. I made a very bad mistake..."
He leaned back then and now she would find herself staring in some kind of mirror. To her he would seem just like she had to him: strangely vulnerable, out of his depth, frightened and alone.
"I'd tell you more, but not here... I know a place though, Seventh Floor, it's safe there, at least I think it is. But I have to warn you Remedy, if I tell you what I know, why you might think you're cursed, but why I know you're not, if I tell you that, there won't be any turning back from it. Not ever. We're not the only ones getting hurt, and it's no coincidence." He got up then, dusted himself off and would wait only a few moments should Remedy decide to follow him to the Seventh Floor. "You don't have to come Remedy, in fact, if you're as smart as I think you are, you'd do well to choose happy ignorance."
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
4 Jan 2025, 07:58
This is not fine
❝ a mask won't hide who you are inside, ❠
──────────────────────────
──────────────────────────| ----------- |
|
----------- |