closed Atlantis Valentine's Day Cabin

"It won't stop."

She was right, it was never going to stop. Gideon was going to pursue her until he either got bored or she was destroyed entirely. He rarely got bored, a practiced sadist. But even if Gideon found a new quarry, she would never be free. He had trapped her in this life he was building. At the moment she felt like it was her choice, he could thank Gideon for that. She needed Mathias for protection, affirmation, but when the threat had passed where would she stand. He doubted it would be at his side.

He needed to work quick, to both ensure that Gideon did not destroy her and that he did not leave her gilded cage open long enough that she might fly away.

"No... We can't give him the satisfaction. He wants to see us crumble. He's.... He's doing this all on purpose. He wants the reaction."

He wondered if she realized that they were not alone in this room, Nabi, Avis and Aamon were technically still there. Bubba might even overhear parts. He just smiled at her lightly, she was making enough of a scene for the both of him. It was obvious from their initial meeting that the brothers were at odds, but she was sounding paranoid. It went well beyond rivalry with her words and behavior, which made him by comparison look 'normal', 'temperate' even.

"... Lets go find our room..."

"Our?" He repeated. He expected to room with Aamon.

"We're sharing a bed tonight, by the way."

He quirked his brow when she made that declaration. Thank you Giddy he silently whispered. This was the first good thing his younger sibling had ever done for him. "Yeah, right" he cleared his throat instinctively. Sharing.

Date: February 12th 2025

Perhaps if things at S.N.O.G had gone differently and he had secured himself the friendships he sought in his fellow snakes he would have been less tempted by the boys tricks. As it stood, however, his home had become an even more venomous pit than it ordinarily was and he had barely anywhere to turn. The truth was that Matthew was almost entirely alone, so little friends he hardly needed the second hand to count them so when presented with the offer of more kinship he was powerless to resist. The boy was clay in the other boy's hands ready to be shaped in the manner he saw fit.

Gideon was like a black hole drawing you in with his very presence the space between them closing with a tension not unpleasant but powerful nonetheless. The boy commanded attention in a subtle way, having neither need for volume nor threat his strengths drew from persuasion from understanding. It occurred to the young snake that Gideon much like himself and Ms Park was likely an observer, watchful and calculated. Unlike the majority of purebloods Gideon didn't feel the need to use his name as a powerplay, he forged his own rules and sought to claim his accomplishments as his own not an extension of a bloodline. It was curious, different and Matthew hadn't a clue what to do with it.

Then with the tilt of a head and words smooth as silk but layered with intensity he asked in nothing more than a murmur, "Tell me, Matthew, do you believe in fate?" Aromatic scents of rose filled the air while light danced along the wall filling the space with a dreamy quality masking any dangers that awaited in his answers. "Matthew, do you believe that all of us were placed on a path that we have no control over? That every step we take, every choice we make, is simply leading us toward the inevitable?" With a slow inhale he took in what little space remained between them, his words probing but his tone genuine, whatever the boy wanted remaining shrouded in mystery, "Or do you think we carve our own way, shaping the world as we see fit?"

Matthew wouldn't answer straight away for the voices in his head were overpowering drowning out logic an emotional filter taking its place as it so often did. The young boy looked down, shying from the proximity with his eyes, to the mixture of green leaves that now permeated a sweet floral scent. Pulling his right hand away from where it clasped the jar an ornate amber ring that had buried its way into his skin with lightly bruised denting was revealed. Lifting it up slightly towards him he watched as the light refracted in the pool of amber a warm glow flittering on his skin masking the bruising. Still not looking up he felt as soon as his eyes began to water, began to release his pain but he wouldn't let them fall, enough had shed these last months and he had run dry. When he did speak his voice was heavier, weighed down by burden and grief, "I suppose I think some things are inevitable, there are forced like fate that go beyond our comprehension that owe us nothing and care little for what we do."

Closing his hand around the ring once more for comfort he then placed it on his finger and feeling whole once more he closed back in on the boy, revealing glossier eyes than had previously existed remnants of his pain still lingering on their edges. "But I also believe that while the destination may be predetermined the journey is not so rigid. Our reactions dictate how we proceed, our past a roadmap of discovery shaping our decisions. Each of us still have the choice to alter our course even if the ending cannot be unwritten." Matthew found his heart and breath had echoed the same rhythm that Gideon had conducted with the glass completely susceptible to every one of his tricks and yet he was unsure how he fared in their game. It seemed rather than the answer itself Gideon was more concerned with the inner workings of Matt's process, testing him out to figure out his mind, derive what processes made him tick, where to apply pressure and where to relieve. Whatever it was he still found himself hopeful he had proven himself a worthy challenge. Having grown up in mourning he was well versed in questioning fate and other such moral quandaries but that didn't mean he had any answers.

"I only wear a mask when it is convenient for me, and I choose the mask to guide their expectation. I do not wear the mask that people expect of me. Not for long, anyway." Matthew watched reverently as he spoke returning the inquisitive dedication that Gideon levelled upon himself. Whoever this boy was he was far more complicated than a typical child. There were so many masks as he so called them etched to his face Matthew was hardly sure he could see the true figure underneath. While Gideon may have rejected the role he was supposed to play his mastery of control left him entirely unreadable. Was it a safety mechanism or something fouler? Finally exhaling, long and slow, before tapping the glass jar again he stole any progress Matt might've made in searching the boy for his truth as he changed the gears once again. Any doubts surfacing about who may be leading this game were quenched immediately with his demands, "But enough philosophy. We have work to do."

Gideon wasn't the kind to waste time or mince words, when his intentions were laid out it left no room for bargaining he skipped the 4 stages and dragged you acceptance, "You, my dear Matthew, have just become an accomplice." The word was secretive, dangerous almost but entirely intoxicating intended like a gift he was to be thankful for. As much as it worried him to admit it, it did. To the masses this snake was already poisonous so why not give them what they wanted. "This little concoction? Nothing terribly harmful. Just an ounce of mischief, a whisper of trouble. Enough to set the week in motion." Still Gideon's eyes studied him for every breath, every slight movement or reaction pinning him down with his control. Matt didn't react much of anything in a fiendish attempt as conjuring his own mask, a silent challenge to the older boy to push and he did with smirk and all, "What’s the matter?" Gideon whispered with mock concern. "You aren’t scared? Or do you like the thrill of it? Do you like the idea of being the villain, just for a night?" A trick used by older brothers and bullies to evoke a sense of need in their victim, a pressure to achieve but Matthew lacked the former and resented the latter.

Still, it hardly mattered for the young boys mind was already set. The world had decided on his ending, he was to be feared or hated or viewed upon with entire indifference. Every action no matter his intention would be scrutinised or manipulated or just plainly misconstrued so why not lean into the dark. Why not for one singular moment on a whim while in a foreign place play that role. Become the person they deemed him to be. There would be no difference either way, no opinion would change, Aamon certainly wouldn't forgive him so what did he have to lose. "What are we waiting for then, let's give them hell." His devilish grin didn't quite match his steeled eyes but hands clutched eagerly at the bottle fingers taut in anticipation curling around the cool glass.

Winnie's nickname that sounds gentle, endearing in her soft melody was twisted in his spurring him on, another challenge, another piece in the puzzle of Gideon Athanatos. Effective in its irritation, but important in understanding his necessity to earn his position with the boy. The plan was effective, simple his mind already whizzing with the questions of execution. When the boy put his brain to use it revealed all over his face the true wit that lay beneath the youthful innocence, having lived in his head for years his exploitation of it was an impressive feat only taking seconds to work out the missing parts of the plan. Levitation would be the easiest solution for the manoeuvring while distribution would be handled using the duvet as an enclosure and gravity to let the powder become airbourne trapped between the duvet and bedsheets allowing it to spread the poisonous dust evenly. On another day he might've found worry in his fiendish intellect but today he was someone else, someone who cared less for the consequences.

A whisper of seduction was all it took to send him on his journey, an invitation into the boys darkness, "Go on, then, let’s see how bold you are." Running out of the room Matthew immediately put his duelling speed to quick use reaching the closest bedroom, that would eventually belong to Nabi & Avis, and enacting his plan with envigored confidence the challenge of his cabin mate praying on his mind. With a finesse born from a combination of natural talent and dedicated study he incanted "Wingardium Leviousa" and watched as the substance floated onto the bed before switching his focus to the bed sheet and floating it up the air causing the mixture to float gingerly into the air before being trapped by the falling sheet. Carefully he would then mix the concoction with the top layer of the duvet really ensuring it was well spread and smoothed away the evidence of his deeds. Without hesitation he was onto the next room there was no time to wait as there was a silence beginning to fall on the cabins hinting that whatever light conversation the others had continued in when they left was coming to an end. Matthew had to be faster, pushing himself to the limits he reached the beds that would come to belong to Aamon and Bubba.

Repeating his act of treachery with concise control and method he suddenly stilled as he heard the familiar voice of the young Athanatos in the doorway in a soft greeting far warmer than their own had been, "Hey, roomies?" Having just finished smoothing the bedsheet he stilled needing some kind of distraction, some kind of devious trick to survive. Whatever he did he couldn't get caught, Aamon would never let it go and Gideon would be disappointed, another in the long list. No he had to succeed, so slipping the bottle into his deep jacket pocket he crafted his reasoning within his mind, a spun web of explanation. Without looking to view them he focused his attention to the windowed aquatic landscape and shouting loudly called out, "Yeah Gideon the view from this one isn't as nice, stay in that one!" Then turning with feigned surprise he avoided Aamon's gaze, focused instead on the older boy admiring him with a friendly, innocent smile. "Oh hey, sorry was just checking out the rooms, I don't think we got properly introduced I'm Matthew." Unbeknownst to the young boy however, Bubba had been in the doorway slightly longer and while he had no clue why Matthew was smoothing the sheets or what the bottle he hid within his coat was, it was surely devious in nature for such innocence to be summoned.

Interacting with @Gideon Athanatos, @Aamon Athanatos & @Bubba McGarry

_{Banner by Miss Haven Bohannon}

| Note: Thoughts, Speech, Avis |

Nabi was well aware of Aamon's presence in the room but she could not be distracted by him. She could not risk showing yet another card to him— he made her weak, different.

Something she could not control— everything her mother taught her not to be. Her monsters were not of sharp teeth and piercing claws that lurked in the shadows like the ones a parent would warn their children of.

No.

Hers were different.

If I do not see him he is not there... She gently untucked her hair as if to block him from her side vision.

Nabi had to focus on something, unfortunately for Avis; she was there. Noticing how the young girl had mirrored her, Nabi hummed softly— something about her demeanor caught Nabi's attention. Her gaze flickered down to see the girl's fingers fidget slightly, Is she alright? She raised her eyebrow, whether she made the girl uncomfortable or not, Nabi decided to brush it off. The young Avis was not the first person to find her awkward to be around and she would not be the last.

"Sorry, I don't know what Crinus Muto is."

I forgot the spell has not been taught yet... Nabi hummed before curtly nodding, observing how the young Marlong sprang up as if relieved to have a change in topic. Nabi gently shook her hand as she addressed Avis for the first time, her tone was pleasant— very well modulated. "It is alright, Miss Marlong... I do not hold it against you. The spell has not been taught to those of our year", assuming you are also in your first year, "My name is Nabi Park."

Nabi let go of the young Marlong's hand, watching her pick up her things. She raised her eyebrow slightly, Do those of muggle blood not use trunks? Humming in thought Nabi recalled Matthew bringing a small backpack, now seeing Avis sling her satchel over her shoulder.

"I guess we're finding bedrooms huh?"

Nabi blinked, remembering she was still in the cabin, Right... bedrooms... here..., "I suppose we are, Miss Marlong." She glanced toward her fairly large trunk, noticing Aamon had left sometime in their conversation. Confused as to why she felt... disappointed that she would not talk to him soon; Nabi cleared her throat gently before walking to her trunk, which had been waiting by the cabin's door. The silver handles were cold beneath her hands. Lifting the mildly heavy trunk, she glanced in Avis' direction near the couch.

"It appears roommates is the topic for the time being... would you like to be my roommate?" I wonder if the bedrooms also have those coral reef windows... She began to drag her trunk toward an available bedroom in thought.

Gideon was not a thief. The Athanatos certainly had the capability, but outright stealing was a child's game. Theft was the sort of lowbrow tactic employed by thugs without finesse. No, Giddy's games were more refined, more insidious. If Gideon wanted to take something, he would leave its owner thanking him for the privilege.

While Matthew was away, Gideon needed to learn more about his roomate. That was why, when Giddy found himself alone in the dormitory and Matthew Campbell’s bag was left so carelessly unattended, Gideon would not simply rummage through his bad for meager valuables. He had no interest in coins or trinkets.

But he did have an interest in Matthew.

With the practiced ease of someone who had done this sort of thing many times before, Gideon knelt and unfastened Matthew's bag. With a child-like eagerness he rummage through his bag. The Athanatos wasn’t looking to destroy—that would be too obvious. He wasn’t looking to take—that would be too pedestrian.

No, he wanted to alter.

Gideon would tap the door that Matt had just exited to ensure that there was no witnesses. Oh boy, Matty-boy did not pack much unless this was one of those bags that was larger on the inside.

No, it definitely was not. He could feel the bottom.

What did Matt bring with him?

His eyes flitted over the little he had brought with him, assumedly a book or two, if so he would skim the cover for a title, perhaps some parchment, quills and/or ink, and simple garments that were likely few in number and laughably mundane. And then, he found what he was looking for.

A journal.

It wasn’t particularly well hidden, not that there was much space to hide it. Actually, another book? No, a second jurnal. This other once strange. The later had the telltale marks of something private, beloved, but well-worn. Too worn. It was damaged, reduced to rags and unintelligible. He wanted to repair it, to understand the contents. He could easily, but then it would be obvious that he was there. No, he could not do it. Not yet. He focused on the other, the perhaps decoy journal. Perhaps something else. It shown evidence of frequent use, the dog-eared pages, the worn spine.

Gideon’s lips curled into a smirk. Oh, Matthew.

Without hesitation of the mortality of his choice, Gideon cracked the journal open and turned the pages, scanning them with idle curiosity. He didn’t have time to read everything, nor was he particularly interested in the finer details of Campbell’s feelings—but what did interest him was the opportunity that lay in his hands.

Carefully, methodically, Gideon reached into his pocket and withdrew a quill. With quick, deft strokes, Gideon did not add anything new to the journal. That would be too obvious, too clumsy. No, instead, he merely...adjusted.

A word changed here. A sentence slightly restructured there. A paragraph rearranged so that intent became something else entirely. When magic was involved, the permanency of something such as ink was laughable. And so with artful care, where there was frustration, he sowed something darker. Where there was hesitation, he wove in manufactured resentment.

By the time he was done, it was still Matthew’s journal—his handwriting for the most part, even his words. But the story it told? That was Gideon’s.

Satisfied, he smoothed the pages down, closed the journal, and returned it exactly as he had found it. No missing items. No outward sign of tampering.

Gideon stood, dusted off his sleeves, and left the bag precisely as it had been. His expression was one of utter contentment as he stepped away.

Because the most delicious part of a lie was when the victim convinced themselves it was true. He would move away from the bag in time to hear a muffled statement a out a view.

It would appear that Matt was not particularly stealthy. Oh well, I guess it is time to play. He donned a pair of gloves and exited their shared room. "Matt, there you are. Why did you take my rosehip tea?" He was not going to take any chances. If Matthew had been seen and he was trying to weave a lie, he would likely fail unless he was particularly practiced.

He extended his hand towards Matt, as if he was expecting Matthew to hand him something. The 'spice jar' that smelled of rose and earth. "In fact," his eyes brightened slightly. "Would you like a cup of rose tea?" He did not need to have much to suffer the effects. The earthiness of rose hip tea would not be far removed from the mossy taste of this concoction, but the effect... well that would be utterly devious.

A cup of this tea would possibly hospitalize him. Lesson one: when you have witnesses, you need to eliminate them with haste.

"No... We can't give him the satisfaction. He wants to see us crumble. He's.... He's doing this all on purpose. He wants the reaction." Winnie was, apparently, of the opinion that Gideon wanted to destroy her completely. Avis studied Winnie’s face. Was she really that afraid? Or was this just another Athanatos trait—seeing threats in every shadow? Paranoid of the world? Potentially, but that seemed to be a general theme of the Athanatoses, so she supposed the girl would fit well in her new family.


"It is alright, Miss Marlong... I do not hold it against you. The spell has not been taught to those of our year...My name is Nabi Park." Avis’s lips twitched and she narrowed her eye, but she bit back a correction. "Well...do you care to explain it, Nabi?" She leaned slightly into the girl's name while meeting her eyes, an unspoken note that her name was Avis, not Miss Marlong. Miss Marlong made her feel like an overactive aid in Nursery School, talking to no one but children the entire day. Needless to say, Avis wouldn't exactly be the greatest Nursery School aid. But she would leave it alone, for now.

Nabi stepped over to her trunk, by the door, and Avis rolled her eyes a moment at the sight of the girl carrying the heavy trunk. They were going to be here for what, six days? Returning her attention to the windows, and partially eavesdropping on the lovers, who like Aamon, were definitely too young to be sharing a room, but purebloods had young marriage ages, so who knew? But the windows. Oh the windows. Avis would never tire of staring at the windows, mesmerized by the colorful fish darting to and fro in the shifting light, her eyes tracing the flashes of color until she was once again interrupted by Nabi. "It appears roommates is the topic for the time being... would you like to be my roommate?"

Avis hesitated, "Um...sure." She cast a glance at Aamon, trying to make sure that he wouldn't internally combust the moment she left, frowning when she realized that he was no longer there. She really should have been more vigilant. But also, now he was gone. Okay. Bye then. She shrugged, telling herself she didn’t care, but the frown lingering on her lips said otherwise; She headed towards a spare bedroom, her clarinet case periodically bumping against her leg. Steady, rhythmic, something to focus on.

@Nabi Park

Bubba had just started to walk away when Winnie stopped him and whispered a hurried warning in his ear. He'd apparently been correct to worry about Gideon, Winnie seemed to be absolutely terrified of him. 'He's a monster' was her whispered warning and while he had thought the boy's vibe seemed off when he walked in he wouldn't have gone that far. Still, Winnie had no reason to lie to him so he would certainly heed her advice. Bubba did not respond audibly but nodded subtly before continuing on to a bedroom.

It was going to be a tricky week, but not for the reasons he expected. He thought it was just going to be a lot of fifth-wheeling. He wasn't looking for anyone romantically, he thought it was just going to be part of the scenery while other people found love. That wasn't thrilling but he wasn't worried about it. He wasn't ready to look again anyway. The truth is he was still getting over having to leave Sam behind. This was different though, it seemed like he was in a dysfunctional cabin full of weirdos. He'd need to be careful.

Speaking of weirdos, he got to what was his bedroom and was immediately met by a strange site. The boy who hated introductions, Matthew, was messing with his bedsheets and then put a bottle into his robes before he noticed Bubba was there. His reaction to being discovered was just a little too innocent and given everything else he'd already experienced, his guard was immediately raised.

Before he could begin interrogating him, Gideon walked in and offered him a cup of tea. Already suspicious and with Winnie's warning echoing in his ears he flatly said, "Pass," without looking at him. He then started on the boy, his voice started evenly, almost sympathetically, "Hey, I totally get that, gotta make sure you get that primo space." But it quickly became clear that he did not buy the boy's innocent explanation. He'd seen the bottle and the move from the sheets but decided to give him a chance to play it straight, "So what do you think?" he asked, nodding towards the bed, "Thread count high enough for you?" He pointed towards the boy's pocket "Giving us some lavender or something, making them smell nice?" He then refocused his gaze on the boy with narrowed eyes that would bore into his soul, "Seriously, what's in the bottle, and what are you doing?" He asked before adding, "And don't lie to me, you'll insult my intelligence."

Interacting: @Winnie Harper | @Gideon Athanatos | @Mattew Campbell
Mentioning: @N/A

Date: February 12th 2025

Plausible deniability, Sean had taught him it years ago as a calculated assault on his father during games night. Matthew never claimed to be a calculated deceiver but he knew how to play the game of lies well, how to shift the narrative to a point where it wasn't deceitful but masked the truth deep within and luckily an excellent excuse had presented itself at the boy's side. Gideon had also appeared and was doing his best to distract, a rather sweet motion that enamoured the blonde to him after his call for help, but Matthew was quite capable of handling himself and intended to prove it.

In truth Bubba's intense gaze did nothing to the boy, for he had experienced so much genuine loathing by the purists of Hogwarts a mean, cold stare had no effect, yet still when he spoke Matthew found himself dropping the guise of innocence to muster a hurt instead. A truth to reinforce his deception, Matthew had to be careful only using information that pertained to his honesty. He wouldn't insult the boys intelligence by directly lying but he would certainly evade the direct truth through a tunnel of misconception. "I don't intend to insult your intelligence and while I see what it looks like you aren't why I came snooping. You see it seems you unfortunately just have poor taste in roommates." Levelling his harsh gaze on the small boy next to him he summoned a hatred so easily he wondered how true it really burrowed.

Matthew was playing a delicate game but a smart one, hiding behind the scarred relationship between the boys he could easily hide his intentions. In truth the elder snake wanted the boy to suffer more than anyone, particularly after he had come to discover the boys involvement in the rager flood. It turned out that Colin had been innocent all along and now his fury burned deeper than any wildfire. Aamon could cling onto the false belief of the boys poisoning all he wanted, but he could never dismiss the truth that he robbed Matthew of his mother. Aamon would forever be the reason that Holly's journal was destroyed, and the worst part was that Matthew knew he wouldn't even care. On a public level maybe he would express despair for the involvement but that was all he was capable of, surface level emotion. The boy was nothing more than a façade and Matthew saw straight through it.

With eyes hardened and mouth quirked in distaste he returned his gaze to Bubba having summed up the lack of quality of the boy next to him, "That one is responsible for me being ostracised as the 'Poisoner of Slytherin' despite him knowing no poison was used. So if you have any decency you won't judge me for having ruffled and well... farted in his bed. It seemed a light attack in comparison." A vague mistruth in a sea of honesty, "As for the bottle, not that it's any of your business, but it's a herbal blend for my anxiety. Wish I could blame that on this one too but I'm afraid it's been with me significantly longer." Matthew had no idea if Bubba was an emotional sort or if he could care less but nothing he said was a lie simply carefully created half-truths. Matthew's anxiety had always plagued him and he had tried many resources to help it but the truth was that the feeling rested in his very bones. Born with him on that mournful day.

Attempting to push past the boy into the hallway he would glance back at the room and then once again at Aamon a depressed hurt filling his eyes which he let water more than he'd typically allow, "If you were genuinely curious of my thoughts, I'd say you should take the common area, or better yet make him do it. That particular Athanatos is all pleasantries and charm until it no longer suits him." Nothing about his tone even hinted at lying because in his truth that was exactly how he felt. Aamon and he had started off on the bad foot and ended on an even worse one and since then resentment had only festered deeper. The boy hid behind innocent charm, but he was simply a face in this world greedy and determined to step on whoever it took to progress and a muggleborn was an easy target.

Interacting with @Gideon Athanatos, @Aamon Athanatos & @Bubba McGarry

Interacting: @Mathias Pride | @Bubba McGarry | @Matthew Campbell

Outfit: ✿| ✿

Mentioning: @

"English" | "Irish" | Internal thoughts

Mathias' reaction was not something Winnie was expecting, he seemed surprised by her statement about them sharing a room and bed. They were engaged, wasn't that normal? It was just sleeping next to each other... For safety reasons.

"Unless... You have a problem with sharing a bed?" The question was only half-serious and accompanied by a playful quirk of her brow.

The Ravenclaw was heading towards the bedroom she had tossed her trunk in, when she suddenly overheard a commotion. It seemed between Bubba, Matthew, and... Gideon. She stepped closer to overhear, worried that the younger Ravenclaw might have said something to the monster.

'Seriously, what's in the bottle, and what are you doing?'

Bottle? Her eyes scanned the room to try and find the bottle the Ravenclaw was talking about. The croc wearing youngster started complaining about someone from Slytherin poisoning him, 'so if you have any decency you won't judge me for having ruffled and well... farted in his bed.'

"Oh my God. EW!" She said before she could stop herself, her face wrinkling in disgust. What the hell was wrong with boys? Sure, flatulence was natural, but that didn't mean you wedged yourself in someone else's sheets to play your stink trumpet.

"I don't care if he's in the other room, we're changing our sheets. Now." Matthew might not have known which room other boy was staying in either. She couldn't risk it. Thank Merlin she brought her own bedding; something she always did during camps.

She had already beelining for their room and tossing her trunk open. Various clothing items were tossed onto the floor as she dug for her bedding. Fluffy pillows were tossed onto the ground as well as a pink rose patterned duvet.

_{Banner by Miss Haven Bohannon}

| Note: Thoughts, Speech, Avis, Mother, Bubba, Matthew |

"Well...do you care to explain it, Nabi?" Nabi raised an eyebrow. Was she angry? No; quite the contrary, it amused her. After a few words, the girl appeared to have something against her. Yet she merely brushed it off; she did not know the girl— nor did she have any personal opinion of her.

You are not here to be anyone's friend.

Her mother always told her not to trust anyone, trust was a vulnerability. Something to be used by those who say to be your friends. Instead, she calmly walked with her "The spell gives the person that it is being used on a new hair color or a hairstyle even... granted we will not learn this spell just yet, perhaps in future years..." She glanced at her, "and it does not damage one's hair so it can be used multiple times."

Nabi calmly pushed open the door to the last available room and walked toward one of the beds, placing her trunk beside the trunk assigned to the bed. She hummed softly in thought, taking in the unique details of the trunk, How fitting. The treasure chest design of the trunk matched the cabin's decor, emphasizing the shipwreck aesthetic. The whole room was...cute, and she was not used to it. In truth, she was more of a minimalist— everything had to be neat and precise.

She took out something from her trunk, placing a small sleek black leather book on her designated nightstand, the silver-engraved spine facing the bed. Nabi looked back to Avis and gently cleared her throat, deciding to be... direct, she said expressionless, "I noticed your reaction to me using your family name as a way to address you..." she tilted her head slightly, "Is there a particular reason why?"

Or are muggles mannerless?

Nabi remembered how Matthew reacted to her calling him Mr. Campbell when they had first crossed paths; his insistence on having her refer to him as Matthew. He still corrects her whenever she calls him in a formality that is etched to her like the engravings on her family heirloom.

Goodness, do old habits die hard.

But habits can bend depending on how favorable it is.

Keep them happy and they will do exactly as you say. It is a mutual benefit. Mother knew best after all.

Nabi continued looking at Avis and said calmly, her voice velvety, "Would you rather I call you by your given name?" She may be of use in the future...

And with a practiced ease, she smiled.

Having been forced to attend events her parents held or were invited to, it was only natural for her to learn how to fake a smile; not to mention the models she grew up watching smile for the camera as they displayed her parent's work. Like second nature, her smile was small— enough to be polite, "Mr. Campbell— Matthew does also seem to prefer I address him... informally. Do forgive me, I am not used to informalities."

The smile would leave, any trace of it lost like a distant memory before saying, "Mother has always been strict with how I am to present myself. It is nothing against you... Avis."

"Seriously, what's in the bottle, and what are you doing?"

The voice interrupted them and was quickly followed by a familiar voice, "That one is responsible for me being ostracised as the 'Poisoner of Slytherin' despite him knowing no poison was used.". Nabi glanced toward the door, What is going on... we have not been here for long and already there is an issue.

She looked back at Avis and raised an eyebrow, her voice lowered slightly, "It appears us being roommates should be less troubling than what is going on-" "So if you have any decency you won't judge me for having ruffled and well... farted in his bed. It seemed a light attack in comparison."

Nabi blinked once, processing what she just heard, and looked back at the door again.

What?

Aamon stood still as stone, his mind moving far too fast for his body to catch up. He just wanted to escape the weirdness that was Avis and Nabi. The feeling of being ignored made him simply feel unwelcome. He had searched briefly for companionship only to find Bubba McGarry. His offer to be roomates was left unanswered. It seemed to be a trend in this cabin. Had he been doused in essence of demiguise and not realize?

The odd thing was Matthew was in their (possibly in any case) room. Hadn't he bunked with Gideon someplace across the hall? Had Giddy ran him off already? He was going to just quietly drop his trunk off in the room and not cause an issue he decided. He had no idea Bubba had seen the backend of whatever devious prank Matthew had just pulled, as far as he was concerned Matt was just snooping.

Yet there was a tension; the air felt heavy, pressing against his ribs like an invisible weight. His stomach felt unsettled, but that was the least of his concerns.

That one is responsible for me being ostracised as the ‘Poisoner of Slytherin.’

Was that Matt? The words rang in his ears, bouncing around like a bludger with nowhere to land.

Poisoner.

He could have laughed if it didn’t sting so much.

His fingers curled against his knee, nails pressing into the fabric of his trousers. Poisoner. Aamon had never said that. He never called Matthew anything of the sort. He had never accused him of poisoning anyone. All he had done was hesitate to drink something that was on multiple levels something that he should not have consumed. It tasted like old, forgotten apples. It was terrible apple juice. He had no idea it was alcohol until he chugged a majority of the container. He should not have, he even initially declined. His mistrust was taken as something personal but he had long since wondered if that was another lie, a trick to compel him into proving a point that his head and gut would later regret. He had chosen to trust the words of the very same boy who had in fact poisoned him and the rest of the dorm and was now spinning this story, twisting the knife in a way that Aamon hadn’t even realized it could twist.

His throat tightened, and he stared blankly ahead, the words slipping between him and the others like a riptide.

Aamon had thought—stupidly, maybe, foolishly—that Matthew had simply made a mistake. That he had just… not thought it through. That someone else had tampered with the cider. He’d thought it was as simple as that, an accident, a lesson learned.

Still, a part of him felt betrayed, purposeful or not. Matthew had made him a criminal, having him drink 'adult cider.' His expression twisted slightly the more he thought about it. Too many mistakes, he internally concluded. But more than that, this—this was deliberate.

This was cruel.

The bitterness that sat at the back of Aamon’s throat had nothing to do with the cider and everything to do with the realization that Matthew had never intended to offer him any kind of truth. That he had lied straight to his face, had let him sit in that dorm with his housemates, drink, and be humiliated without a second thought.

And now he had to audacity to play the victim?

The fury that had been steadily simmering in his chest threatened to boil over, but Aamon swallowed it back. No. He wouldn’t lose control. Not here. Not in front of Bubba, not in front of Gideon or the girls, and certainly not in front of him.

Aamon sucked in a slow breath through his nose, his posture still deceptively relaxed despite the rigid way his fingers had started to drum against his knee. "I see," he said simply, voice even, neutral. He let the words settle in the space between them before shifting his gaze, meeting Matthew’s with something unreadable.

The weirdo farted in his bed.

Gross.

But he refused to react. Rather he remained silent while Bubba continued with his interrogation. "I appreciate the warning," Aamon finally said, his tone so light, so deceptively polite that it was almost laughable. "I’ll be sure to refresh my linens before I retire."

He should have been thankful that it was just a fart. If it was Gideon, he would have been more likely to find broken glass in his pillow or the mattress stuffed with old dead fish, the stink would have clung to him for days. The worst this one could do was expel some air on his things. Comparatively, this was nothing.

He would drag his trunk into the room and rest it against the foot of his shell bed. Besides ass-scented sheets, the room did nto seem half bad he decided. "Bubba, have you seen any house elves around here that could help me with my bed?" He did not bother to address Matthew, honestly with how things were going with the lad, it was more likely he would go on some tirade about how elves should not be folding bed linens.