closed Twice Shy PV

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xx 𝙵𝙴𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝟷𝟺, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟻
𝚃𝚆𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝚈
continued from...
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷
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𝓣he fragrant aroma of flowers in bloom carried itself on the cool evening night breeze. How, given the time of year and the fact that any reasonable flowering bush would yet remain dormant for the remainder of the winter season, Evelynn couldn't be sure. Magic, she surmised. Or perhaps it was the French. As trendsetters, they never had played much by the rules. Alternatively, perhaps the mainland magical flora were an entity unto themselves. Whatever the rationale, there was no denying the beauty of the Beauxbatons gardens, nor the way they seemed to lure the mind down a path of reminiscence.

Reticent to subject herself to the company of others, the lioness had evacuated the shared cabin on the foreign school's grounds, seeking the freedom of a prowl with no particular destination in mind. Her only goal: peace. She was tired. Between the travel, over-excitable cabin-mates, and the grief of her new-found father ghosting her on her birthday, sleep had been somewhat evasive. Mental fortitude had faltered. And with that, the psychic clutter had become clamorous. She just needed a moment—a night—to fortify. To drop the facade of polite smiles and shallow conversation. To shed—if but for a short time—the crowd wherein she always felt most alone. Wher ethe small voice in the back of her mind reminded, relentlessly, "you're lying to them."

Pushing the phantom of that lazy drawl away, she slumped to the grass, paws reverting and fur retracting as she rolled to her back. Diamonds dusted across the sky, framed by the shadowed silhouettes of the surrounding shrubbery that loomed around her. Somewhere in the distance, giggling briefly rose followed immediately by hushed whispers. She rolled her eyes at the likely notion of a couple out on some romantic soirée, no doubt afflicted with Cupid's Ailment amidst the day's Valentine's Day events.

A hand drifted up to bat lazily at a low-hanging vine, wondering for half a moment if perhaps it was the pair of Durmstrang students who shared her cabin. Yet, where mockery ought to have been, Evelynn just felt...irritated. She back-handed the unsuspecting foliage as she caught herself wishing it was herself. Then again, the idea of sneaking off into the gardens with AJ left her feeling somewhat uneasy. It was... complicated. There was a part of her that yearned to be the sort of girl—a normal girl—who would find that sort of thing exciting. It was hard to explain, even to herself. She just wanted to be able to let go. To feel the butterflies and the skipped heartbeat and the catch of her breath. She just wished she was—

She sighed.

She just wished she could be running through the forest, pine needles crackling underfoot, a crisp wind combing through her fur, the Moon ever-watchful overhead..

Even as she relived the treasured memories, a white silhouette with wings widespread cut across the actual moon. The world faded into darkness moments later as Evelynn closed her eyes, chest rising and falling in controlled fashion to settle the sudden spike of adrenaline that had very nearly pushed her to a panicked rise. Something thumped beside her followed shortly by the rustling of a nearby bush under the weight of a large bird of prey alighting its buoyant branches.

"What do you want..." Evelynn asked through pursed lips as the owl chattered its beak in her direction. Cool grass caressed a cheek as she rolled her head towards the reproach. Through reluctantly squinting eyes, she noted a small bag resting where the thump had sounded. Curious to see what Janus had brought her, she moved to investigate. "Honestly..." Withdrawing nothing other than blank parchment and writing implements, the Gryffindor cast her owl a scowl, leaving her annoyance at his audacity unspoken. Not that he apparently cared to receive any of it as he had 'conveniently' begun to preening like a sort of avian version of feigned deafness.

She had half a mind to return the items to the bag and use the bird as target practice for a projectile satchel, yet now with the stationery in hand, she found herself smoothing paper across the seat of the nearby garden bench, fountain pen poised to write. With everything that had happened, she was still keeping secrets. She still couldn't bring herself to divulge her deeper insecurities. And even if she could find that courage, nothing had changed. There was still the dilemma, only now she knew that the voices, the visions, they were real, at least to some extent. There was only one person (that she was aware of) who knew it all. With whom she could now speak candidly. Except, while the name already scribed to page would suggest she knew 'to whom' she wished to write, the what was not quite so clear. Nearby, Janus stilled, as though encouraging her to continue. Several minutes would pass in statuesque stillness, hand hovering over the page, before she simply succumbed to her uncertainty and started with exactly that...
Pericles,

I confess, I do not really know what to write. Or if I even should. Or whether this will be well-received, if indeed it is received at all. Perhaps it this letter will meet the same ultimate fate as the last letter I penned around this day last time—up in flames. I suppose I could not fault you if you if it did. The Lord knows I have earned your ire. I have collected a great deal of information and maintained a number of secrets over the years. I have been less than reputable and have made a lot of mistakes. With students recruited by and working for the hags to spread slug infections and draw others into their schemes, I have struggled to determine who could be trusted, and have guarded what I know closely. Some have called me overly paranoid. Perhaps I am. I thought I was protecting others. People close to me always disappear, or worse. I tried to keep people away, hoping then they would be spared. It seemed to work in some cases. And I could think. It was quiet. But then, I could not stay informed, and I later learned that the isolation made it such that I missed important changes. Such as the signs of Santario having been infected and transitioning into a hag. I was not there for her when she needed it. And then she disappeared like all the rest. I tried to compromise. The only way I knew how to stay informed and to catch the subtle changes of hag infiltration were to make sure I was intimately familiar with everyone's behaviour and habits. So I cannot say that you were wrong. I did watch. And I did study. And I tried to keep by distance. But there were those who seemed to do everything in their power, whether they realized it or not, to counteract those efforts. I did not ask you to follow me to the lake, or to give me a slice of birthday cake last year. Last year. It is hard to believe that it was only a year ago. It feels longer than that. At least to me. What you did that night meant so much to me, and every time we interacted, it became harder to maintain my distance. I have admired you from afar for many years. I am sure my saying so only reinforces your conceptions of me now, but there it is. And your companionship. It was. Infuriating. It is much easier to maintain social barriers against those for whom I have little interest. But I found myself looking forward to your company. And then feeling invested in what you had to say and caring for your opinions. I thought I had found a real friendship, and when I realized that, I was afraid of losing that. I was afraid of what you would think of me if you knew the truth. And I was afraid that something would happen to you, like the rest, if you knew too much. I was afraid of making you a target. I was afraid of losing you. I never meant to hurt you. Or anyone. I can see that I have been selfish and arrogant and foolish. I burned it, the journal, for what little that is worth now. Had I known from the start what I have since learned, I would have approached things differently. But I cannot change what I have done. I can only regret and learn. I am sorry. For everything. I miss you. I
[the rest is torn off]
Evelynn paused in her writing, wincing with the delayed acknowledgment of the progressively worsening cramping of her hand. How much time had passed during her furious writing, she couldn't be certain, but the evidence was on the page. Barely coherent thoughts, sentiments and confessions had spilled themselves onto the parchment as though waiting for her barriers to drop just enough to burst the dam. The catharsis was fleeting, however, and already, Evelynn could feel the shame slinking back in, self-mockery at the ridiculousness of it all. She reached for the page, shaking her head, and started to crumple it.

"Wh—" A second later, the only parchment that remained in her hand was a torn corner containing nothing but the last couple of words she had penned. And in the distance, she could already see Janus fading fast into the night, the letter clutched tightly in his claws.

"Blast.."
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𝚂𝚃𝙰 𝟷𝟶 ‎ ‏‏‎ | ‎ ‏‏‎ 𝙴𝚅𝙰 𝟷𝟽 ‎ ‏‏‎ | ‎ ‏‏‎ 𝚂𝚃𝚁 𝟸 ‎ ‏‏‎ | ‎ ‏‏‎ 𝚆𝙸𝚂 𝟷𝟻 ‎ ‏‏‎ | ‎ ‏‏‎ 𝙰𝚁𝙲 𝟷𝟶 ‎ ‏‏‎ | ‎ ‏‏‎ 𝙰𝙲𝙲 𝟷𝟾
𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙴𝚈𝙴, 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂, 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙸𝙰𝙻, 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚁, 𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝚄𝚂, 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝚂𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳
@Pericles Dralt
Last edited by Evelynn Decipio on 27 Apr 2025, 03:50, edited 1 time in total.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: Owen Lochridge | Margarethe Fransson | Dottie Dunlot [comc professor]
closed Twice Shy PV
IT'S ASTRONOMY - WE'RE TWO WORLDS APART
In frustratingly cryptic fashion, Pericles' response was layered in symbolism while lacking in words. Janus returned to Beauxbatons bearing a scrap of paper tied to a red lily's stem. Someone had taken the time to trim the owl's talons, groom out a stubborn pinfeather, and deliberately spoil the animal with a newfound taste for anchovies. The care shown to Eve's familiar didn't reflect in the letter's contents. It was almost ominous in its briefness, lacking a proper response to the outpouring of honesty she had offered in comparison.
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xEvelynn,
xCome to Hogsmeade's main square on the 19th at 9PM.
xIf you're ready to trust me, come alone.

-Pxxx
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The date was set for the day after Hogwarts' return from France. The time was only an hour from curfew, and while the location was public, it was also the site of a recent attack. Overall, his reply read less like an invitation than it did a dare. The flower was a bold declaration, challenging her to take a chance on a shady invite, to stand by all she'd written by meeting him face-to-face. Little had been seen or heard from Pericles over the previous two months, but the handwriting was inarguably his, and there was nothing to put its authenticity to question. Whatever he had to say must evidently be shared in person.
| @Evelynn Decipio |

{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)