20 Apr 2025, 03:17
Thrown to the Dog
| xx |  banner by the talented Prat Pass |
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| xx | 𝙽𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟽, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 | 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙾𝙶 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 |
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| xxx | ℬanshees. Why was it that they were studying banshees? Given their status as amortal non-beings, Evelynn would have thought instruction on this particular topic to coincide with that of Dementors and Poltergeists and others of the sort--a curricula more suited, surely, to the sobering depths of Defense Against the Dark Arts. There was something decidedly unbalancing to read about death and despair and the zombie-like appearances of the maleficent not-quite-specters while surrounded by rolling green grounds with the sun high overhead. Although, at least the trees had shed their leaves, their skeletal pre-winter appearance thematic, she supposed. Still, it wasn't the sort of content that the Gryffindor typically anticipated for her Care of Magical Creatures class--banshees weren't creatures, nor did she have any intention ever to care for them--and her inattentiveness betrayed just that sentiment. Not that the course was solely to blame. Evelynn's distraction had started with the new school year when Finnegan had started the new school year pretending she was ground zero for a new plague. It had worsened as Aly and Winnie seemed to join in on the game, likewise becoming avoidant of the lioness in a dramatic turnaround from how close they'd all grown over the summer. And now, Pericles had turned his back as well. In the weeks following the gala, Evelynn could be found sitting in class with her head bowed over the applicable text, face curtained by loose auburn curls. Rather than instructional material, however, it was the contents of her recently returned journal that she saw in her mind's eye. It didn't matter that she had burned the book and all the knowledge (save for the letters) therein, information that had ultimately been more damning than helpful to her in the end. The only problem was, no amount of flame could burn away the memory of the encounter that had prompted the literary destruction. Ash had long since vanished from her hands, but no amount of washing could cleanse the stain of shame. The stinging accusations continued to ring fresh in her mind. In a matter of months, she'd lost everyone. Well...almost everyone. MacAllister was still speaking to her, though every time he did, her stomach twisted with guilt. Too busy playing with a new toy. The venom of that particular accusation seemed to have lingered most painfully. ...pieces in your social experiment. They hadn't been. But she would be lying to herself if she denied that there was some truth to it when it came to AJ. When she had asked him to the gala, her motivations could have been considered questionable. After all, it wasn't as though she had wanted to go with him, per se. She had just wanted to know what it was like to go with someone. Properly. That it happened to have been AJ was just happenstance. Still...that hadn't made him a toy. Pericles had been wrong. She hadn't been playing with AJ. He was kind and reliable and just had a sort of disposition about him that Evelynn found...simple. Not that he was simple. Just that with him, there never seemed to be any mental games. There was no guessing at duplicity or having to read between the lines. He seemed to hold straightforward motivations, speak his thoughts, and carry little regard for drama. Most curiously, in a school where most seemed drowning in some trauma or another, he always came across as remarkably untroubled. He was normal. And as the days passed, the social vacuum created by the absence of the Circinus crew deepened. In the weeks following the gala, Evelynn's gaze strayed in his direction increasingly frequently as though he was the key to a puzzle with which she'd long been struggling. So it was that when the day's Care of Magical Creatures class concluded, the witch did not immediately pack up and depart as she was wont to do. Instead, she lingered, taking her time to collect her things and pack her bag, stalling to allow the rest of the class to disperse some. And perhaps to buy herself some time. Perhaps a bit too much time, she had to acknowledge as she slung her satchel over a shoulder and strode across the grounds to catch up with MacAllister--cursing internally at his long strides. "AJ!" The earnestness of her voice, as though trying to catch the attention of someone soon to be lost, gave her pause. "Er..." It occurred to her in that moment that the mental conversation she had previously played through, the script she had mentally written, had vanished and perhaps she hadn't actually thought things through as well as she probably ought to have. And now, of course, as the seconds strung out and her steps slowed under the scrutiny of his freshly captured attention, she was making a fool of herself. "Listen..." She glanced up at him, surprised to find just how small she suddenly felt next to him. Despite holding nearly a ten inch advantage over her, his height had never really registered before. "I was wondering..." Uncertainty left her faltering again, a malicious voice in the back of her head telling her she had no business walking the path for which she was headed. That it would just fail again. That he would leave, just like the rest, if he learned the truth. But she wasn't like that, not anymore. Pericles didn't understand. He hadn't been fair. She wasn't playing some kind of social chess. She wasn't a sociopath manipulating others on a whim. She was just trying to survive and get through her last years at Hogwarts. Just like everyone else. She just wanted to be normal. "I was wondering," she began again, fingers combing back curls that a little breeze and blown across her face, "if maybe you might be interested in going to Hogsmeade one of these weekends. Together, I mean. Perhaps for a butterbeer or tea." Had it been someone else, she might have left it at that, but as memory served, AJ wasn't always the most astute at grasping social nuance. An uncomfortable weight seemed to fall into her stomach, pulling her towards an early grave at the notion of having to clarify any further, but she pressed forward nonetheless. "It need not be a proper date... but it could be. If you want..." |
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