Fit For A King PV Atlantis Cabin

Interacting: @Mathias Pride | @Matthew Campbell | @Avis Marlong

Outfit: ✿

Mentioning: @

English | Irish | Internal thoughts

"Mattie, don't be like that!" Winnie piped up as she walked into the kitchen and caught a glare directed at her. Her hair was pulled back into twin braids, and she wore a whimsical looking puff-sleeved pastel pink strawberry printed dress (yes that's a mouthful). "I was just teasing you. You still look good even though you'd got spots."

Winnie already had calamine lotion smeared over her body, and her fingers were full of it as she wiggled them towards her boyfriend playfully, "Come on, I've got the good stuff." She grinned, leaning it to smear it over whatever arm skin was currently poking out of his clothing.

"I'll give you more, if you forgive me." She smeared a stripe down his nose, pausing midway when Avis mentioned Matthew didn't seem to have a rash, "What what?"

She pulled away from one Matt to eye the other one suspiciously, completely ignoring the tension that was already building in the room. She leaned in close to peer at his smooth skin. "Hmm... She's right."

Although she did remember Bubba also didn't have a rash, but he had slept on the couch that night, and she hadn't seen Gideon and he automatically would have been her first assumption given that... Well, he's Gideon. Though poison ivy definitely seemed small scale in comparison to pushing people out of towers. "So, explain yourself, Matthew... First you're playing the bum trumpet while on our beds and now you're looking awfully rash free."

Mathias stood there like a scorned god, his long arms crossed tightly over his chest, his angular jaw tight, the rash blooming angrily along his long pale neck and collar like nature itself had declared war on his skin. Pride's shirt collar was popped in the most aggressive way humanly possible, and his sour expression could have curdled milk. He had slept poorly, his skin was plagued by whatever terrible curse had been cast upon this cabin and he was going to make it everyone else's problem.

Mathias Pride was already in a mood—itchy, underslept, humiliated by the previous night’s entirely unnecessary full-posterior moment. Not that he cared who or how many saw his ass, that was likely the highlight of the week for his cabinmates as well as Nana's violated bedpillow. Mathias was truly their benevolent benefactor.

"Mattie, don’t be like that!" Winnie, the ever-optimist chirped. How could his fiance be so goddamned pleasant? Did the color pink, regardless of the source just instil joy in her strange, little, potentially also strawberry-shaped heart? He honestly questioned this strange universal law. But curiosity was not meant to be slaked, he was too busy being miserable.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not being chipper enough for your rash-themed fashion parade?” Mathias snapped, his mood no better with the passage of time. If anything, Winnie's cheery attitude was inciting him further. He yanked his sleeve back from her pink fingertips before she could smear more calamine lotion on him like some kind of whimsical plague nurse. “Forgive me if I’m not thrilled to wake up looking like a leper on Valentine’s week.” He was the tragic character here!

Winnie smeared the terrible pink cream anyways, right down his nose. Mathias froze. His jaw twitched. He blinked at her. “...Did you just—did you just stripe me like a fucking woodland creature—”

Then Avis Marlong, one of Aamon's little friends, dropped a bomb: Matthew did not have a rash. None at all. Matthew, not Mathias Pride. The girl was referring to the 'other Matt.' Discount Matt. The midget fellow that had for the most part escaped his notice because he only saw the top of the boy's head. But he was looking at this generic Matt now. And, look at him.

Avis was right, diet Matt was radiant. Untouched. The goblin's skin was smoother than a baby unicorn’s arse after a spa day. While the rest of them look like they lost a wrestling match with an over-caffeinated hedge witch, Matthew Campbell looked like the blessed child of Mother Nature. Not a bump, not a blotch, not a single cursed patch of itchy shame. Meanwhile, Pride was exfoliating his ass with his own fingernails, contemplating peeling off his entire fucking epidermis for relief. It did not appear that Matthew Campbell has the same problem. Matthew did not have a scratch on him, he was just sitting there glowing like a bloody Goddess of Rash Immunity.

Honestly, Matt should start charging for skin care tips.


Inspiring, really.

Better Matt, the original, rose. “Well, well,” Mathias drawled, rolling his shoulder with a faint wince as his flesh brushed against the itch. “That’s curious, isn’t it?” Pride's gaze was all steel and stormclouds. “Everyone but you woke up looking like they’d been mauled by a horny dryad… except you.”

He took a step toward Matthew.

“No rash. No itch. Not even a spot,” Pride sneered. “And yet, somehow you’re the one who crop-dusted the bedsheets like..." he looked over at Winnie with a questioning expression when she used the phrase bum trumpet. The heck Winnie? Fine, united front, "a brass section in a jazz funeral.” What she said. Muggle slang is so weird.

He leaned forward just enough that only a sliver of air separated them.

“Tell me, Campbell,” he hissed, voice low, venomous. “What exactly were you doing? And how the fuck are you the only one who doesn’t look like a cursed tomato?”

Date: 13th February 2025

There was a time Matthew recalled thinking this trip was going to be an escape. A refuge from the endless torture of second year and Hogwarts. He remembered it well like a faraway dream drifting softly through his scrambled mind, he remembered it well as it was quite literally, a day ago. That was how long it had taken for him to completely annihilate any hope of peace and devolve into the well of chaos that seemed intent on shadowing him. The maelstrom of disorder he was born in never let go and worse so, he gave into it all too easily. Matthew was brash, impulsive and overly emotional not to mention having a lack of control, all of which detrimental to his stability.

Barely a moment to process the note from Gideon he lost one of the few cabin mates he thought he might have, Avis storming away from him. "Why am I telling Aamon?" The words dying on his tongue as she slipped away leaving him to deal with the collateral of the bomb she had just dropped, murderous little witch. Apparently killing Aamon wouldn't be enough for her, she had to commit double homicide and Matthew was her intended target. Deserved, maybe, but she had just fed him to the largest of the Athanatos wolves without even knowing the entire story. Matthew was cunning, it was the only part of himself he really related to Slytherin but Mathias too was a snake and far more refined.

Winnie would make the first wound though, locking in on Avis' conviction and leaning in inspecting him like he was one of her pink curiosities. Matthew had to be smart, lying was futile. Not because he didn't have a knack for it but because the Athanatos almost certainly did. Lies when woven poorly easily pulled three untangling you with them and he was not about to make a mistake that could result in him being cursed. At least not until he could make an escape. The boy was used to running from bullies, this would be no different.

Before he could answer her the snake hissed and rose rooting him to his spot. A storm brewing in Mathias eyes much more dangerous than Winnie's more curious approach. Flashing a frightened look at Nabi he wondered what she was thinking about as this all went down, wondered if she would be an ally or further seal his fate. The risk was too great, as friendly as they had become he had betrayed her, there was no reason to expect she would not return that favour. Using his thumb he lightly turned the smooth amber into his hand and felt himself calm under its presence. Fear was a useful tool but only if controlled, displayed for them but unfaltering for himself.

Swallowing deep he stuttered slightly before speaking taking a step back so that Mathias' morning breath was no longer assaulting his personal space. How Miss Pink had ended up with this venomous snake was a mystery but given how quick she had been to turn on him too perhaps they were more similar than met the eye. They certainly were not that he too was lathered in pink. In truth it had been hard to fight the laughter that bubbled deep within but his guilt kept him accountable enough to supress it.

Quivering slightly under the menacing presence of their unwavering stares he did nothing but state the facts, "eh, I mean, well I don't know I wasn't even here. I was out practically the whole night plus Gideon and Bubba don't have rashes either. And you two had far more animosity to each other than I did, I don't even know you man. If we didn't share a name I probably wouldn't even remember yours." Bruising the seniors ego was probably not the wisest of moves but stopping himself from rambling was never Matt's strong suit yet the bait had been placed. While the younger snake had no clue the dynamic between the duo it was less than friendly and potentially capable of exploit.

Still, it wasn't enough he had to cover his back, cover his tracks and most importantly allow himself the freedom of escape. Backing up as if from continued fear he drew his face the portrait of prey under the presence of predators. Allowing the distance to separate them slightly he moved softly towards the door positioning it behind him using Winnie as a reasoning. Matthew maneuvered around Mathias so that his view of the girl was less obstructed feigning manners over escape tactics. "I apologise for that Winnie, it was immature Aamon just accused me of poisoning him and now the Slytherin's have been giving me an even harder time of life. As if being muggleborn wasn't enough." Perhaps she was as callous as her partner but something about her told him differently. Winnie seemed like the light balancing his dark and hopefully she could find compassion despite her disgust and suspicion.

Only then, as the words came out, his face froze in regret. Dark brown eyes of true sorrow and fear shot towards Nabi as the realisation came to him that the secret he had been hiding had just come to light. Little did he know that Nabi had already heard him the day before yet even so this was a clear admission. From their conversations he surmised that Nabi herself had never drunk the cider but he knew she was no fan of the night, and knowing how integral to its failure likely wouldn't endear him any further to her. So here he was, under three pairs of analytical eyes some of distrust, some unknown. Matthew could run but it would only be a temporary protection, one way or another the music was coming for him and he would have to face it.

Interacting with @Avis Marlong, @Winnie Harper, @Nabi Park & @Mathias Pride