Fit For A King PV Atlantis Cabin

Gideon was the next to rise. He slept soundly the entire night. He roused briefly when his roommate left the room early in the night but the teen felt no need to pursue to younger Slytherin as he meandered about the grounds, had a tête-à-tête with a supposed paramour or even made plans to undermine him. Gideon felt certain his position was secure.

It was when Matthew returned near morning that Giddy would finally arouse. He would pretend to sleep as Matt changed for the day. When Matthew exited their shared room, Gideon would count to one-hundred in his head before he rolled out of bed. He pulled on a pair of pygmy puff slippers, yes they were made from actual pygmy puffs and he would toddle about the room. Today would be a good day. He wondered how well his cabinmates slept or if like his roommate they did not sleep at all.

An orange silken collared shirt and a deep purple vest, no jacket. At least not while indoors, it was far too warm for so many layers, but he still needed to peacock. In the wild, the most dangerous creatures were the brightest. It was a signal for danger. His slacks, they were nothing special, pleated and simple black. He would change into a pair of loafers, he was not going to walk barefoot in this cabin, already considering potential avenues for vengeance.

He would find in the shared area a feast of food. Nothing that truly drew Gideon, despite all pretense, he truly abhorred sweets. Besides, it was too easy to taint the food. Rather he would seek out a piece of fruit, failing to address Matthew until he had a banana in hand. Nothing phallic, the banana came with a wrapping and had clear signs of tampering if something was injected. "Morning Matthew, sleep well?" The question more rhetorical, he was more curious if he would answer rather than what he answered.

He would peel the banana, studying the pale flesh visually as he spoke. "Did someone lace the food with a laxative. I would have," he commented casually as he decided the banana was likely safe enough and took a bite.

Date: 13th February 2025

If it were possible for a person to ruin someone's appetite that person would most surely be Gideon Athanatos. The way he could command an entire room was both terrifying and inspiring and Matthew felt drawn in the second he arrived. The boy's mind began to race wondering when the other had woken for he seemed strangely alert and well dressed for someone that had just gotten up though perhaps that was the regiment of all Athanatos, after all perfection was supposedly a pureblood trait. Either way the vice he had on his mind instantaneously was not a good sign.

The boy was a comical visage in his brightly coloured outfit that was very reminiscent of the psychopathic joker from Batman, a reference the boy might've pointed out if he wasn't quite sure it would fly entirely over his blonde mane. Everything about the way he held himself was so practiced, so composed that it felt strange to think that lurking beneath it all was a darker version. A version he had become acquainted with yesterday and rather wondered when would resurface.

Eyebrow quirked at the banana in his hand Matthew rolled up the sleeves of hit green cable knit jumper and picked away at the croissant he had in front of him as he responded to the boys question a devilish glint filling his eyes, "Nope didn't sleep much at all, I'm afraid you snore rather loud." Fixing the boy with a pleasant smile that falsely said 'but don't worry about it' he continued snacking until the boy decided to share his theories on laxatives.

Sighing out deeply as he rubbed the corner of his eye with his jumper Matthew looked at the food in front of him and grabbing an entire slice of french toast, stuffed it into his mouth with very little tact or decorum. Munching away he swallowed deep and with a self satisfied grin said, "It's a good thing I got here before you could then!" Something in his mind wanted to continue to tease and for any other he may have, 'Afraid you'll have to try much harder to get me' or other such sentiments. But Gideon was like a wildfire and Matthew already had to live with him, already had let the flames dance across to him with the ivy. No if he was going to last he had to be smarter about how he played their game.

Smiling genuinely he took a deep breath and focused on the calming nature he needed to nurture in order to thrive. With the warm embrace of his gift alleviating the cricks and stresses of his body and mind he found himself able to look upon Gideon with fresh eyes and in total earnest asked, "How was your sleep? I hope you had nice dreams." Matthew honestly had no clue what he was doing when it came to the boy, in some ways he wanted to play along and get wrapped up in his storm but in the same breath he was terrified that he may unleash his own torrent. Whatever happened he had to proceed with caution, as long as he had his ring and his mother's gift he would be fine, he was sure of it.

Interacting: @Mathias Pride

Outfit: ✿

Mentioning: @

English | Irish | Internal thoughts

Winnie Harper was wearing pink, but not in the usual way she'd sport the colour; her hands, lower arms, and legs were coated in a pink lotion. It was likely recognizable to the muggleborns and half bloods of the cabin; calamine lotion. It was the same lotion she had frantically applied in the middle of the night after discovering the mild rashes blooming on the exposed skin of her arms and legs.

It had been a hell of a night; Mathias had ended up star fishing at some point during the night, forcing her to edge towards a small section of the bed once she had slid back in after her midnight itching session (leaving this vague since the thread is not finished). Eventually she had ended up beneath an armpit without her pillow, an unfortunate place to be trapped.

She had woken up with her legs tangled in the blankets, her cheek smushed against the Slytherin's chest, her body at a weird angle to accommodate his refusal to sleep like a normal human being. With the sunlight now pouring in through their bedroom window, Winnie could see her boyfriend seemed to be covered in the same blotchy red rash.

The Ravenclaw had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing at the sight of him, though a small, panicked part of her had to wonder if she had managed to spread the rash to him. That wasn't really how it worked, though, it was the oil of the leaves that caused the rash. They must have somehow both been exposed.

She swallowed her laugh, leaning in to nudge the boy with her elbow, "Mattie, wake up." When he didn't nudge, she pushed herself up until she was hovering over his face. She started to poke his cheeks, "Wake up, Splotchy."

If he still didn't wake up she wasn't sure how much longer she could wait for him; the scent of delicious food was already sneaking beneath their door and she wanted to get to it before the Monster could do anything to taint it... Or Matthew tried to fart on it.

Avis had not slept. Or at least, that she knew of. Realistically, she had drifted off a bit during the night. But it wasn't a restful sleep, it was a light sort of sleep that had her slipping in and out of reality like a boat in a storm, never being awake enough to think, never asleep enough for rest. And who could blame her?

She was covered in pink goop - which wasn't comfortable, to say the least. But that wasn't even the problem. The problem was the reason for the goop, as well as the fact that Avis had bright red scratch marks crisscrossing her arms and legs, a result of both her insistent scratching the night before as well as her unconscious itching throughout the night at the patches of skin the lotion had missed. She had ended up on the ground next to her bed, finding it necessary to get away from the suffocating blankets and bed, and now her neck hurt, cracking with a painful pop as she jerked it straight.

Needless to say, Avis was not in a good mood.

She was tired, itchy, irritable, and wanting to scream and murder anyone in her way.

Slipping into the bathroom, Avis splashed a generous amount of cold water onto her face, inhaling sharply as it shocked her awakeish. Cold water in the morning was a miracle worker, and today was no different, as it only took a couple of splashes for her to no longer want to murder anyone, only give them a good knock on the head. She pulled her hair back and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt, the best possible clothes to allow the calamine lotion to stay.

She may be tired and irritable, but she wasn't about to give anyone else the satisfaction of seeing her disheveled and falling apart. Or very disheveled, in any case. There was really only so much she could do.

Slipping back into her room, Avis dug in her satchel for a pastry she had stolen from the tea party the day before. No one could be angry when eating a pastry. Even if the pastry was a bit crushed. After the first bite, Avis was feeling much better, though still in desperate need of a nap. She finally entered the front room, still munching on her pastry, though she offered only an exhausted glance at Matthew and a glare at Gideon. She folded herself into a sitting position on the floor about as gracefully as she could, laying her head against the cool glass of the aquarium window.

As she finished her pastry, the wonderful scent of breakfast tempted her past her breaking point, and she begrudgingly pulled herself up and made herself a crêpe, ignoring (or possibly lightly shoving) whoever may be in her way. She repositioned herself, waiting for Winnie to hopefully appear so she could beg for more calamine lotion so she could wash this junk off and actually take a shower.

She took a bite of her crêpe. At least some things in life were still good.

@Gideon Athanatos, @Matthew Campbell

Morning in the cabin was a strange thing. The night went as one would have expected, half sleepless for the lot of them, the itch of the ivy creeping across their delicate flesh, intruding upon their rest. The point was to tire them out, to ensure that they lacked the will or the power to deny him. The fact that Matthew failed to take the opportunity to rest was not overlooked by the sadist. They never did fit the mold as intended did they?

Allegedly he snored. Well, he snorted at the very least. Derisively in fact at the comment. He probably did. Good, more sleep for him.

But, he did not believe Matt. There was a game at play. It was like trusting a feral cat to protect your pet goldfish.

Turn your back and someone was going to be upset.

Today was the day he would make one of them unravel. Force someone to the edge of some dreadful revelation they could neither face nor flee from. And there was his lovely victim, Avis Marlong. A generic first-year, all wide eyes and stubborn rebellion, wrapped in the sort of naïve arrogance that only the young and foolish possessed. She was the type who thought herself clever, who thought herself capable, who thought herself untouchable because she had read all the right books and whispered all the right theories.

Avis was a Ravenclaw’s hubris in its most raw, unpolished form.

The Ravenclaw was interesting in the way a house cat might be interesting to a lion—small, feisty, completely unaware of what a real predator looked like. But that was not what piqued his interest, he had been interested in the girl for longer than she knew he had existed. He saw her walking towards that forest again. He saw her prevent Aamon from being pulled into the darkened wood and ultimately to his death. She blocked the culling and whether she realized it or not, she was precious to his dear younger brother Aamon.

Yet she fit neatly into a category, as all things did. It was that little streak of blue in her otherwise dark hair—a pathetic little flag of rebellion, as if she thought herself bold, untamed, wild. It was a single stripe of defiance, carefully controlled, deliberately placed, still neatly contained within the bounds of what was acceptable.

A half-measure.

And Avis Marlong was one big, walking half-measure.

Matthew stuffed his face and Gideon ate his morning banana with deliberate, unsettling confidence. His blue eyes observing, he watched monitored Matthew's body the way one might assess which goat they wanted to auction without making their contemplation obvious. Campbell was a piece of barely interesting meat that by the end of the week he hoped to shatter then mold.

Avis glared. She did not act, did not move. She just held that irritable expression, another half-measure.

"How was your sleep? I hope you had nice dreams."

Giddy took a bite of his banana, allowing the question to linger briefly before he gave his reply. "I don't dream... I just see what will be," he answered simply. His voice light and sweet as it often was, almost innocent. "And I had lots of time to think," he offered knowing Avis would be listening.

Gideon moved with unhurried ease, completing his banana before moving on. He was like a storm cloud that lingered on the horizon, seen long before the thunder rumbles. "Aamon is going to have a bad week, assuming he survives it," he shrugged as he disposed of the peel without letting either leave his line of sight.

"Something to do with a doppleganger. Either that or I get a second little brother," he let Avis register the alleged series of events that she perhaps erroneously believed were managed. "In fact, I am going to leave Aamon a quick warning before I head out for the day," Gideon announced as he withdrew a folded slip of paper and placed it on the table.

The words were harmless enough, but the weight of them was not.

Because it didn't matter what he said.

It mattered how he said it.

With just enough intrigue to make them wonder.

With just enough amusement to make them question themself.

With just enough menace to make her feel like she was already playing a game she didn’t remember agreeing to.

And then there was the second step.

Making them doubt what they thought they knew.

"I have a date and I do not intend to leave her waiting," he smirked as he placed the note clearly addressed to Aamon on the table.

For Aamon only

The note was simply folded over with a single string piercing the page a centimeter from the edge as if the letter was stitched closed. The knot at the end was tight, something that was not meant to be untied, but rather broken. That was the point after all. To break.

As if he hadn't just placed something awful into their hands and left to figure out what to do with it, Gideon would walk away.

There was a certain art to it—this delicate balance of tension and control, the way people would slowly fracture under their own weight if left unchecked, unhandled, unhelped.

And Gideon?

Giddy merely watched, nudging things along when necessary, playing his part with flawless ease, because what was life if not a series of strange, exquisite games?

His version of playtime had always been different, of course.

Cruel plans, careful calculations, little experiments in obedience and resistance—watching people fold and wondering just how much pressure it took before the breaking point. Watching them break. Watching them allegedly change into the creature, no the monster that they had always been was the best part. People were creatures of sin. People were monsters with a want to be seen as saints. His games simply made the truth apparent.

And not everyone could appreciate the Athanatos' games.

Some were too self-righteous, too stubborn, too blind to the beauty of it all. It was easier to blame him for leading them there, for encouraging them, for failing to dissuade them. For implanting the idea that festered until it bloomed in their head.

Matthew was too reactive to be useful, yet too interesting to discard entirely. He wondered what the boy would do if given the means. He infested his friends and peers with poison ivy without hesitation. If he would do that to those he cared about or were indifferent to, what would he do to someone he disliked? One had to truly wonder.

Aamon was drowning in his own anxieties, trying to be something he wasn’t and failing spectacularly. Someday he would no longer fail, and what then? Would that be a victory or a loss?

Mathias was all about control, he needed to have it. He knew he was not worthy of true love and affection, actual friendship and concern, so he would create it. A world of pleasant lies without substance or depth. A shallow space where he believed he was in love, that he could be loved and in truth he was only perpetuating his own suffering.

Then there was Taylor, who was always the most interesting piece on Gideon's metaphorical board. Gideon’s jaw tightened, just slightly, the only visible sign of irritation as his mind drifted to his cousin, his favorite, his problem.

Gideon was concerned, of course. Concerned in the way that a collector might be when their most treasured artifact begins to show cracks in the surface. That their value might plummet. That the rare piece might shatter entirely.

Taylor was cracking.

Giddy had seen it in the way Taylor moved, in the way the Koldovstoretian laughed at the wrong things last night, in the way something frantic had lurked behind Taylor's eyes before he had dragged her away from the tea party nonsense.

It wasn’t immediate, it wasn’t obvious, but Gideon had seen the signs before.

The women of their family were delicate things, weren’t they? Perhaps 'delicate' was the wrong word. They were doomed things—all of them, in one way or another. Wearing pretty smiles over something sick, something broken and waiting to spread. It was because of the bad blood that infected their otherwise pure bloodline. A generational lie that had persisted a millenia and would likely continue for the next thousand years also.

Some Athanatos women burned too bright and lost themselves in the flames. Other Athanatos women drowned in their own minds, slowly consumed by something they could neither control nor escape. Unlike the men whose lives were often tragically short.

Gideon had no intention of letting Taylor become one of them.

No.

If Taylor was going to fall apart, it would be by his hands, in his way, on his terms.

Because she was his, after all and Gideon did not share his things.

The thought curled warmly in his chest as he stepped out of the room and onto the French grounds.

If the seal is broken on the letter:

Aamon,

I had a vision last evening and you were fighting yourself. Avis was there and she tried to kill both of you. I think she might succeed. Be careful.

Giddy

I would like to formally announce that I am suffering.

Mathias was experiencing one of the brief moments of comfort he would access this week, sleep. The evening prior, a deviant (Matt) had infested his bed linens with the devil's lettuce. Some claim the devil's lettuce is something else, and they were lying. Poison ivy is the true devil's lettuce, perhaps even kale. In the middle of the night he was roused by Winnie's call of distress and after a brief nudist expression, he spent a portion of the night that remained itching like he was personally cursed by an entire coven of vengeful hags. His perfect, godlike form has been desecrated by a plague known as poison ivy.

Does Winnie let Mathias suffer in peace? Does she allow him to waste away in my bed like the tragic, poetic figure he is? No.

Instead, she pokes me. She shakes me. She calls me names.

“Splotchy,” she says. Splotchy.

The audacity. The disrespect. The betrayal.

Meanwhile, Pride is seconds away from peeling off his own skin and offering it to the gods as a sacrifice in exchange for relief. This woman, this alleged love of his life, is merely laughing at his suffering, no doubt thinking about how hilarious it would be to leave him in this state while she skips off to breakfast.

And so, Mathias rose with a growl of contempt.

"It is not morning enough," Matt complained. He would attempt to roll over, stealing whatever blanket there might be on the bed with the stubbornness of an actual teenager.

Alas, Pride was noble. Matt will persevere. He would rise from this bed, perhaps naked, perhaps not, depending on how much dignity he can scrape together. He would limp dramatically to the breakfast table, where he would glare at Winnie between bites of stolen fruit or whatever he packed that seemed semi-appetizing. He was not going to eat anything laid out on the table, even he was not that dumb. Then he would speak of his suffering so loudly that the entire cabin would know of his tragic tale.

And should Winnie attempt to silence him? Should Winnie mock him once more?

Then upon every ounce of pettiness in his soul, he would find Winnie in her sleep tonight and make sure she woke up with his armpit directly against her face.

Because he was Mathias Pride.

And if he must suffer—so must everyone else.

And so, with a glower he would rise. He had none of the charm a rested, comfortable Athanatos would. An ass scratch and a groan, he would find the nearest pair of pants and yank the pair of slacks on, failing to bother with socks or a shirt.

He would miss Gideon's departure and notice two cabinmates were already at the breakfast table. He would let out a grunt in greeting, looking at the spread left undoubtedly by a house elf. It looked good, well that sucks. Without saying a word, he grabbed the plastic wrap off the food and walked away.

A brief trip to the bathroom, he would wordlessly return and sit at the breakfast table. "Did you get woken up too?"

Date: 13th February 2025

In any ordinary situation Matthew might have been experiencing exhaustion from the lack of sleep but something about Gideon's company just held every fibre of his being at attention, urging him to not show any weakness. Yet the boy was only human so as Avis appeared before them pulling Gideon's gaze he stifled a yawn into his knitted sleeve.

Catching eyes with the exhausted and no doubt furious Avis he felt himself shrink into himself his jumper becoming a turtle shell he could hide from the world inside. Avoiding eye contact he returned to Gideon of all people. The boy was rambling on about his sleep with all the sweet lull he had tricked him with the prior day, hiding the darkened tones that lingered beneath until the winds switched and a far more ominous message lingered through the relatively silent room. There was so much tension in such a small place he could easily choke on it.

In supposed typical Gideon fashion his threats then seamlessly slipped straight back into picture perfect politeness making you question your very existence. One thing was certain Matthew was far too tired for this. Everything about the blonde utterly perplexed his mind and for some reason Matthew felt his stomach twist into a knot under the smirked exit of the boy, claiming he was going to a date at this time of morning. Surely that couldn't be true but Matthew was doubting any firm grip on reality at this point. That left the haunting note just laying there begging for someone to open it, to reveal its contents. A weak mind that would so easily be stirred by the curiosity.

Worried eyes flashing towards Avis he barely stumbled out a "Should we..." before he found his body launching over the table for the note. If Gideon really did have concerns for Aamon's safety they couldn't just leave it to chance, after all what if it was Gid himself that was going to do something. Then again perhaps this was all just another temptation, another trick to prove to the blonde that Matthew would fall for every trap he set for him. Still the truth remained, Matthew had already put Aamon's life in danger once before by accident even if no one quite believed that fact. In the small simply tied note before him lay a chance at retribution, a chance to prove himself innocent.

Ironically to disprove himself as a poisoner he would have to leave himself susceptible to the venom of the Athanatos', a family so concerned with poison that they were no doubt highly proficient in it. Breaking the seal he read the note in less than a second eyes darting from the paper from the paper to the small girl before him with deep concern. Though fear trickled at his throat from the words Matthew wasn't a paranoid person, at least not typically, he didn't really believe Avis would do something like that and from the plethora of psychic movies and TV shows he had seen visions were never as clear as they appeared.

Of course he had no idea there were even people who could do that, the divination subject fascinated him and he looked forward to be able to pursue the study but could people really foresee the future? If someone could, could they have stopped all the bad things that happened in his life. Suddenly the boys mind was flooded with a million questions and all of them had only one source, 'Giddy'. The urge to throw himself off the parapet from earlier intensified greatly but he reminded himself that no one was truly heinous. Likely Gideon was just not used to having true friends, maybe he could even help him, though what good had that ever done him in the past.

Approaching Avis he timidly said, "I think you should read this," just as he was about to hand it over though he was startled by the deeper groggy voice of a boy who couldn't have woken up more than a couple of minutes prior. The deep grovel combined with the clatter of a chair being pulled out from the table startled him so much he dropped the open paper on the floor in clear view of the older Slytherin. Matthew would attempt to slip his foot on top of the note hiding it from the boy but as he turned around he came face to face with the shirtless form of Mathias and was glad he had no water in his mouth to splutter. Having not witnessed the events of last night unfold he was surprised to see painful red welts all over his chest.

Heart rising in his throat under the consequences of his actions he barely registered the words Mathias spoke but clearing his throat and slowly kicking his foot to the side so the paper underneath might fall under Avis' chair. Backing away to the other side of the table he wrung his hands together in anxiety finding his mother's ring and slipping it into his hand to ease his fear. "Actually I didn't sleep much of anything last night." A frown taking him down into the breakfast spread to not meet either set of eyes.

Mentioning @Gideon Athantos, @Avis Marlong & @Mathias Pride

The crêpe was, as expected, delicious. You couldn't come to a country know for its pastries and not enjoy them. Unless, it seemed, you were Gideon, who apparently content with eating a banana. A banana. A food that was almost everywhere in first world countries by now, and he chose to eat it in France. Maybe he was having leg cramps or something, otherwise, he was a complete idiot. There were brioches, for holden's sakes. And they were probably homemade. Definitely homemade, Beauxbâton was much too prideful to serve processed goods, after all.

Rising from her seat, she hovered over the table, intensely debating whether to grab French toast or a brioche. Or both. Both was also a viable option.

"And I had lots of time to think," Avis frowned. Gideon thinking was never a good thing. She would prefer it if he could just not think. In a nice way, like if maybe he could just lose a few brain cells. Not all of them, just enough for Avis to feel confidently smarter. Because right now, she had a feeling that she was playing a chess game where Gideon was already ten steps ahead. Or she was ten steps behind.

"Aamon is going to have a bad week, assuming he survives it," Avis froze for a moment, almost turning to ask, before realizing that would be a very bad idea. It was a game, a ploy. He couldn't know. Unless he was the one that was planning it. In which case, interacting with him would be a very bad idea. Instead, she just stiffened, turning her body more obviously away from Gideon, as if he wouldn't notice that she was clearly eavesdropping.

"Something to do with a doppleganger. Either that or I get a second little brother; In fact, I am going to leave Aamon a quick warning before I head out for the day,"


Doppleganger.

The dolls.

Fiddlesticks.

Gideon knew. Did Gideon know?

And to make matters worse, Gideon put a note on the table. A big, juicy worm dangled in front of a fish. Or, more accuratly, knowledge in front of a Ravenclaw.

Avis was caught in a fork, and neither of the options were the right one. It was either:

1. Open the stupid note, help Aamon, and prove Aamon's thought that she had betrayed him - did Gideon know? How? Until further notice, Avis was going to assume that Gideon was omniscient.

2. Don't open the "warning." Let Aamon deal with it, and in Avis' experience, Aamon was not great in difficult situations.

Gideon didn't need to play games with her mind. Avis' own indecisiveness would do it for him. Her fingers twitched. Open it or Leave it? A peek wouldn't hurt, right?

Or, thankfully, Matthew would make the decision for her. He lunged across the table, so lacking in self-control that Avis was genuinely astonished he had made it this far in life. She stared at him as he scanned the note, trying to gauge his reaction, and when he looked at her, it was all she could do not to tackle him.

Something was very, very wrong.

And then, at the absolute worst moment possible, Mathias walked in.

Avis was glaring daggers at Matthew in the most inconspicuous way possible, which was not very inconspicuous when one is dying to read the note.

Then Matthew dropped the note. Not helpful. Really not helpful. He slipped his foot over it but not before giving ample time for Mathias to see the note. Avis attempted to turn her attention to Mathias, distract him, whilst keeping Matthew in her peripheral.

"Actually I didn't sleep much of anything last night."

Avis narrowed her eyes. "Really? YOU didn't sleep? You don't seem to have poison ivy rash now, do you?" As she looked at him, she caught a glance of Matthew kicking the note toward her. She tipped sideways and picked up the note, unfolding and reading it under the table.

Well. Shucks.

Her stomach dropped, and she glanced up at Matthew, her face pale.

Gideon was lying. Right? He had to be. He was lying. He was trying to manipulate her. He was trying to trick her out the same way he had before.

Avis knew it, Aamon would know it, and Gideon certainly did. Not only did Gideon know that, but he knew that Avis knew. And it was all a big cycle of manipulation. Mental cat and mouse. Except Gideon was a cat and a trap and poison and an exterminator.

But what if he wasn't lying?

He had to be lying. There was a 99% chance that Gideon was lying. But it wasn't the 99%. It was that 1%. That was all the Gideon needed.

Whether or not Gideon was telling the truth, he really needed a good knock on the head.

Rising from the table, trembling, Avis crumpled the note and slipped it into her pocket with her wand, almost tripping over the table leg as she did so. She angled her head towards Matthew as she walked, muttering softly as she passed. "You had probably best tell Aamon."

She ignored Mathias as much as humanly possible. She did not want to deal with him right now.

Right now, she needed to get away from this.

From Aamon.

Just in case.

Unless stopped (and you are welcome to stop her), Avis will exit the thread.

@Matthew Campbell, @Gideon Athanatos, @Mathias Pride

| Note: Thoughts, Speech |

The events of the night before were replaying in her head, her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she recalled everything— the itch, the paranoia, the anger...

The fear.

The feeling of fragility as her porcelain mask cracked slightly, placing trust upon someone she should not have. The room was silent as she lay in a pool of black hair, her gray eyes focused on the ceiling like she did after the chaos from the prior night. Last night was a close call... Her control was tested. Nabi could have let her momentary anger take over, but she had to be smart.

She had to wait for the right moment to decide.

The sound of muffled voices came through the door and she assumed the others had gone for breakfast. Raising her hand, she looked at the pink lotion on the now seemingly better hand. The itch was gone and her hand was now just a hue of light pink. Her other hand reached out to gently touch the sensitive skin before sitting up with a soft sigh, her eyes fluttered closed as she tilted her head. Her neck was stiff, still tense and tired from not sleeping.

She may get some sleep later... or not.

Getting out of bed, Nabi gently stretched and hummed softly, I may not sleep this whole week... She began to make her way out of the room and into the hallway, deep in thought. Her gaze was at a specific door that was closed, and with a faint hum she walked toward the common room, her steps calm and quiet. The light of the common room caused her tired eyes to squint slightly, looking around before heading to the table. Making herself a cup of tea, she scanned through the breakfast offered, Must everything be sweet here?

Settling with a bowl of fruit, she took a seat and looked out one of the windows of the cabin, the pristine garden charming beneath the morning light, Such a marvelous garden is quite fitting for this school...

But Nabi much preferred the alluring charm of a garden beneath the silver glow of the night sky.