Once Bitten
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| xx | 𝙾𝙲𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟿, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 | 𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 |
xx |
| xxx | 𝓗er hat--she'd forgotten it. Evidently the purpose of the evening had been accomplished if it had left the Gryffindor so sufficiently distracted that part of her attire had been left behind. Not until she was halfway through unpinning her tresses had she realized her blunder, immediately pausing her efforts to retrieve it before it was lost to the fate of someone else's found fortune. Auburn curls had bounced messily--half pinned up, half down, and scalp simultaneously cheering in elation for the partial release of tension and crying out in vain for the rest of the pins to be pulled free--as she'd hastened through the halls back to the Great Hall. It was probably good that she'd rushed. Only a few students continued milling about, gowns and silks flowing to the rhythm of another song and dance; but even those appeared to be winding down. A hasty glance about the room had alleviated any concern about the presence of a certain crimson dress. Although catching herself in the action of looking, she abruptly shifted focus to retrieval of her hat and departing post-haste. What did it matter if they'd been there or not. It wasn't like they were going to notice her reappearance, caught up with each other as they were. And why was she even looking? Was she a masochist now? The ex-seeker's earlier departure had brought with it a reprieve from bearing any further witness to their overt display--the way they'd carried themselves with such perfect poise, shrouded in their air of superiority. Lips crimped as she reflected on how unfair it had been, really. As though it were being lorded over Evelynn just how inadequate she was. Hadn't it been enough that he'd gifted her an undeserved--in her opinion--cold shoulder in the days preceding the gala? Did the reason as to why really need to be showcased in flourishing shades of crimson that hugged the frame so tightly it bordered on scandalous? Heels clicked almost aggressively against the stone floor as she retraced her steps back towards the Gryffindor tower, thoughts about the evening continuing to spiral in her mind. Eventually, those steps would slow to a more languid pace, a cosmic void settled into her chest. Hat in hand, fingertips absently circling the satin finish of its wide brim, Evelynn mulled over the hollow feeling. Why did she even care? He was his own person, she tried to reason with herself, he could do what he wanted. It wasn't as though she had some claim to him. She had asked MacAllister, after all. It was entirely reasonable that he would also go with someone. Just... why did it have to be her. It really did feel like history repeating itself; like hunt had something against Evelynn to feel the need to take her friends away from her. Or perhaps she really just was that much more interesting... Finn had left. Aly had left. Winnie had left. Why not Pericles, too. Was she really that awful of a friend that she drove everyone away? Again, her thoughts began to turn, tumultuous intrusions oscillating between extremes of anger and self-deprecation, hopeless and spiteful. She was halfway back to the tower without conscious awareness of where she was going when she realized she'd pulled her wand from her pocket. Amidst the torrents of thought, one thing she had kept coming back to was the yearning for her journal. It had always served her well whenever she found herself in such a state. There was something about writing down her thoughts that seemed to allow her to work through them in a way that nothing else quite could. Her new volume lay waiting for her in her dorm, a gift from her mother to replace the once that had gone missing over the summer. Its page remained blank, however. Evelynn hadn't been able to bring herself to put thought to pen. After all, what if this one went missing as well? "Avensegium.." She wasn't sure what she was expecting when the piece of paper that had once been part of her journal lofted into the air with a life of its own. At the start of the year, Evelynn had attempted several times to locate the 'new owner' of her journal only to have it lead her to the dorm entrance of Ravenclaw tower. For weeks, it had almost become a habit. Cast the spell in the morning, follow the flying trail of the paper scrap, meet her dead end at the door, then continue to the Great Hall for breakfast and whatever the rest of the day held for her. Perhaps if she'd ever cast the spell during normal hours, she might have been led to the culprit instead of the nest in which they reposed. But then she would have to confront whoever it was that had taken it. Or found it. Was that why she'd cast it now, then? At a late enough time that left little chance that the perpetrator hadn't yet retired for the night? Her steps followed a familiar path, cutting away from the one that would have taken her back to Gryffindor tower. Thoughts continued to swirl, taunting and jeering as she passed by portraits and paintings urging her to return back to her dorm. She paid the threats of outing her to the caretaker little mind, letting the lazily floating paper occupy her attention as it danced and swirled on the drafts with the nobility of a ghostly apparition. Only, when her steps habitually veered to the left in anticipation of its usual path, it arced... right. Evelynn's heart leapt into her throat, brows lofting as it continued down the corridor almost disappearing into the shadows. Hesitation gripped her, unprepared for the sudden shift and what that change could mean. For a moment, the thought of taking a step felt as impossible as being asked to play quidditch without a broom. But the fear of letting the paper be swallowed by the darkness, of losing this opportunity to retrieve what was hers, proved the stronger force. Hat in one hand, wand in the other, she hastened after it with gliding strides. Her mind welcomed the distraction, speculation of the culprit's identity displacing her earlier frustrations. A number of faces swam into focus, each less likely than the last. The sounds of foot steps caught her attention just as she rounded a corner. "Pericles?" The characteristic of his hair and the general shape of his figure was unmistakable to her despite the dim lighting. Even then, she held to some subconscious hope that she was wrong. "What.." Her voice cracked. A chill washed through her as he turned at the sound of his name. The spectre of his visage froze her in place. "What are you--" The floating piece of paper danced forward like a leaf, twirling in the air before colliding gently with him and falling languidly to the stone floor. Her gaze dipped to the book clasped in his hand. It may as well have been a knife for the way it gutted her. She couldn't finish her question. She didn't know what to say. Suddenly, everything and nothing made sense. A thousand questions crashed inside her mind, the small voice suggesting that this was merely a coincidence trampled by the ones screaming BETRAYAL. Her throat felt tight. Her heart hammered a dirge of doom within her chest. And through it all, she couldn't find the strength to speak, unwilling in the moment to say or admit anything until she knew what was going on. |
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Once Bitten
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Pericles' glare remained unbroken as the scrap of parchment fluttered to the floor. His body had frozen mid-step, limbs stiff and expression taut between anguish and outrage. Her disbelief (and misunderstanding) reflected in him like a dark mirror. While his voice did not break, it wavered now and again with the strain of heartache, barely bound by the heir's composure. "I didn't want to believe this was yours," came an icy drawl, "even when I recognized the E's. I thought it was some sick lark being pulled over on me. That was before I read your notes on the nightmare I had during camp." It was unnatural to see him so fixated, let alone seething, yet the accusation was hurled like a javelin. Even with the journal held out between them, he made no attempt to come closer. A step away would be drawn if Eve tried to. "I didn't read it all, but I read enough. All this time, I thought you only pushed us away because you couldn't dare to believe that we care for you as deeply as we do. But- after everything, you-..." His throat closed and head shook, composure waning with a shudder of grief brought on by the perceived betrayal, which was stuffed down by a sharp inhale and sharper blame. "At least I understand why you wanted nothing to do with me tonight. Too busy playing with a new toy. Did you ever feel the same way Aly and I did for you, or were we only ever pieces in your social experiment?"┗ ┛
| @Evelynn Decipio |
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
Once Bitten
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| xx | 𝙾𝙲𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟿, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 | 𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 |
xx |
| xxx | 𝓦hatever chill may have run the length of her spine at the initial sight of Pericles, it was nothing compared to the frigid gale that swept over her the moment he spoke. Beneath its force, hope shattered in an instant. Lips parted, survival instincts reflexively prompting her to deny any allegation of the tome's ownership, but no sound came out. Had it been anyone else, she likely could have conjured some semblance of explanation or attempted to detach herself from the contents, but not here. Not now. Faced with the sharply informed accusation of a wroth phantom, denial was impossible. "Please.." Without a means of escape, fear took root, twisted by a strange sense of wonder at his confirmation that what she had documented during camp really had been his nightmare. She had seen what he had seen. "I can explain.." Could she? In truth, this was the first time credence had been given to any of her visions. She still couldn't even explain it to herself how—or why—she had come to catch words and images from others. How was she supposed to even begin trying to relay that to him? How could she even try, when doing so would mean he could never again feel completely confident in the privacy of his own thoughts? Even to her, the whisper of a plea sounded hollow, hanging by little more than a thread as it traversed a widening chasm. She took a step forward as though to close that distance, only to see Pericles step back, her journal retreating with him. Her chest was already rising and falling with the increased effort to keep her breathing controlled, nostrils flaring with each inspiration. As Pericles continued the lashing, the cold venom in his tone slicing deeper than any blade every could, she could feel herself losing ground in the battle to control her tears. "It's not what it seems like..." she heard herself say, lids laced with a silvery sheen. Although without knowing what exactly he had or hadn't read, she couldn't even begin to piece together an explanation. "What did—" She blinked, brows lofting, the stones of the hall seeming to slowly warp and contract as though she were finding solid footing again after having taken a fall. "..What?" The question to determine what exactly he'd read went unasked, overshadowed wholly by the new accusation. "What are you talking about?" Brows wrinkled with confusion. "Social experiments?" She echoed, words marked with a hollow laugh as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You are the one who wanted nothing to do with me." For the moment, memories of recent events renewed her feelings of abandonment, defensiveness emboldening her words with a certain indignant defiance. "Where have you been in the mornings when I have been running? Or studying? You are there for meals, but you have not been there." She gestured to her head before continuing, the rallying of her tone deflating. "And Aly.. Finn.. the others... They have been.." She petered out, feeling suddenly rather pathetic with the woe-is-me direction she was starting to take. "You have hardly had a word for me for days, but suddenly tonight you remember my existence and want to interact as though nothing ever happened?" |
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Once Bitten
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A telling hue turned the tips of Peri's ears pink when he was called out on his avoidance. His gaze broke, briefly shooting off towards a torch on the wall, perhaps out of embarrassment or aversion to conflict. It darted back as rage resumed the wheel. "I didn't want to see or think about you with MacAllister. I was jealous. Now I don't know what to feel." The words were blunt and hollow. In the wake of everything, the admission felt insignificant. "You've been watching, and hiding, and studying us. I wanted to be close to you, and I never understood why you wouldn't let me. I thought you were afraid. Now I think you're-...." He couldn't bring himself to call her mental out loud. Pericles felt as though his head and heart had been split down the center, wherein two separate realities existed: one in which she was his beloved friend, and another in which she was a conniving sociopath. "Profiles? Taking our pictures, tracking our 'weaknesses'? And you- you were T. Ruth! You sat across from me on that train, listened to me go on about... everything." The porcelain mask of drowsy eyes and sly smiles had been shattered, humiliation and resentment casting ugly shadows over his uncharacteristically expressive face. He shook the journal with the conviction of an investigator revealing a murder weapon. "You wrote those horrible things. You hid this from me. You were in my head." Even Pericles didn't seem to know what upset him more: that she had kept so many secrets, or that she knew some of his.┗ ┛
| @Evelynn Decipio |
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
Once Bitten
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| xx | 𝙾𝙲𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟿, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 | 𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 |
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| xxx | 𝓐n inner conflict began to wage as the external confrontation brewed. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Evelynn to hold her ground, particularly when the look with which Pericles fixed her was ever-more tainted with reproach. Or was it disgust. His icy hue could have been chocolate for the way it mirrored the last hateful glare that Mozor had cast her way before finally cutting ties for the last time. "Jealousy?" She might have laughed if she wasn't certain it would have come out sounding like a sob. What did he have to be jealous of? He who was pureblood and intelligent and accomplished and well-regarded by all of his peers. What did it matter that she had been lucky enough to find perhaps the only person who hadn't received the memo that associating with Evelynn was apparently out of vogue this year. He could have anyone he wanted. And he certainly hadn't wasted any time in demonstrating just that. Not that she could put that jumble of thoughts to words before he'd continued on, profiling her own behaviour over the years. "Profiles?" "I can explain..." Fingers tightened into fists, the handle of her wand in one hand and the wide brim of her hat in the other the only things stopping new series of half-moons from cutting themselves into the flesh of her palms. "Taking our pictures—" "They were references..." Of anyone else, he should have empathized. He had been among the first in attendance for the Liberation Club. He knew the lore. He understood the level of duplicity and danger at the school, how important it was to be able to differentiate an imposter. "—tracking our 'weaknesses'?" "You have to understand..." Why didn't he understand? Every fresh spit of venom dissolved the foundation of her footing. Left to grasping for nonexistent handholds, Evelynn was left unbalanced, suddenly questioning whether perhaps Pericles wasn't as well-informed as she'd always thought, the terrifying thought that rather than the logical notations that Flash had always accepted and encouraged, the only the only thing that Pericles had read was the ravings of an unhinged lunatic— "And you- you were T. Ruth!" —Eveloonie. The childhood nickname, long buried, forced its existence through the hardpacked earth, echoing. "No!" The denial fell from her lips like a plea for mercy before consciousness had quite caught up with the fact that Pericles had pulled back the curtain. Eyes widened as the full weight of his revelation hit her squarely, heart hammering in her chest. "You sat across from me on that train, listened to me go on about... everything." Even as he spoke, she stumbled back a step as though the words themselves were a wand levied in threat against her. Her head swiveled on her shoulders, reflexively checking to ensure they were alone, half expecting White's looming form to emerge from some shadowed corner to finally exact his promised revenge. It was still shaking back and forth when she finally met his eye again. "Please..." she whispered, fear evident. "You wrote those horrible things." "I was eleven," she implored, "I had only just learned that magic and monsters were real." "You hid this from me." "I had to!" Tears tracked charcoal trails down her cheeks, skin flushed with humiliated desperation. "You were in my head." "I can't help it!" she almost shouted, exasperation evident. "I am sorry!" Her chest ached, a squeezing pressure making it difficult to breathe. "Is that what you want to hear? What am I supposed to say? I have no control over it!" She reached up to angrily wipe at her face with a sleeve, eye makeup smudging to give a bruised appearance. "It just happens. I see things. I hear voices. Sometimes frequently. Sometimes rarely. It always seems worst in crowds. I thought I was going crazy. I could never even be certain if any of it was real. I wanted to tell you.. But how could I? Confirmation would only reveal that either I am unstable, or those near me can no longer feel confident of another moment of true privacy." An ironic laugh, one that might have sounded more akin to the chittering of an agitated great cat than a mirthful teen, expressed what words would not—she was damned either way. She swallowed, a certain morose composure settling over to numb her features and subdue her speech. Mentally, the tethers were already being cut. Maybe he was right. Maybe it had all been some sort of social experiment. She thought she'd been wrong about isolating herself, thought that perhaps the work invested to develop the social network and friendships that came with it would be worth it in the end. That they would all be better off for it. Clearly it had been a mistake. All she ever seemed to do was bring hurt and sow discord. "Are you going to tell the others?" |
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Once Bitten
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"I was eleven." "So was I." "I had only just learned that magic and monsters were real." "They're beings." Pericles' voice cracked, rasping a hoarse note from the force with which he spat the correction. He went on to accuse through a tense jaw: "You're only sorry now that you've been found out. You've had ages to tell me, yet you never did. Not even when we became friends." "...I wanted to tell you.. But how could I? Confirmation would only reveal that either I am unstable, or those near me can no longer feel confident of another moment of true privacy." Her juxtaposition might have made sense were the bird not blinded by betrayal, but it had been minutes since he'd reached this stance. It would take far longer to recover from it. "That wasn't your choice to make. You didn't give us the chance to decide for ourselves."
"Are you going to tell the others?" His outrage was burning out, doused by the tears in her eyes, which he found impossible to meet. Pear grimaced, grappling with an an answer before bluntly deciding: "It's not my truth to tell. You can tell them what you've been hiding, or don't, I don't care. But personally, I hated having to hear it second-hand. Consider the choice a parting gift." He tossed the journal her way, both sealing his decision not to share its contents and washing his hands of them. Gravely, with an undertone of morbid irony, he added "If you do decide to set things right, I'd recommend starting with Aly. She deserves to know."┗ ┛
| @Evelynn Decipio | mentioning @Aly Salinger |
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
Once Bitten
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| xx | 𝙾𝙲𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟿, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 | 𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 |
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| xxx | 𝓘f Evelynn had been in a clearer headspace, she likely would have recognized where the encounter was headed within the first minute. Almost pathologically non-confrontational, only something that had fractured the very foundations of his perception could have caused Pericles to unleash the way he was, the sort of damage that changed everything and wasn't so easily reversed, if ever. In her heart of hearts, she must have known that, even subconsciously. Yet she persisted with the painful discourse, clinging to the hope that if she could just explain herself, if he would just let her help him understand, they could gloss it all over as a terrible misunderstanding. Every excuse seemed to be met with dismissal, however; each plea for grace and mercy, deflected. Her desperation only deepened. Somehow, in her brilliance, it was as though she had been trying to build their relationship while already adrift at sea, prudently hammering away to cover those holes in the hull that she'd identified as problematic, convinced of them to be the only threats and the sole source of the slowly climbing water level; all the while blind to the seems quietly splitting, their very vessel coming undone due to a lack of any real initial framework. She had founded a friendship on half-truths and tailored appearances. It really shouldn't have come as a shock that their revelation would shatter the illusion. As the heat of the encounter began to simmer, that was the cold reality that washed over her. That's all it had ever been, she realized numbly--an illusion. Like an oasis in the arid dessert, she had been found to be lacking in substance when scrutinized too closely. Fatigue settled, weighing at her limbs as her breathing ebbed, crestfallen features giving way to a vague sense of surprise at the realization that she'd been fooling herself to think that anything other than this would have been the ultimate outcome. None of it had been real. So where did that leave them now? In the final moments, her gaze had drifted to some distant invisible point of focus below the heir's feet. Movement had pulled her attention back just in time to watch the journal as it cut through the space between them, to thump against the stone floor, sliding a few inches before butting up against the toe of her boot. She stared at it without moving, unable to decide if it was relief or dread that she felt now that it was back within her reach. His inability to meet her gaze would go unnoticed. She couldn't even bring herself to raise her own from the worn leather bound tome. Nevertheless, as much as she might have preferred otherwise, neither could she deafen herself to his words. Whether intentional or not, they were conclusively spoken. Whatever it had been, was over. His advice fell over her like a veil--not the sort of gift a mourning woman necessarily wanted to receive. There would be no 'thank you', no nod of assent. Yet in a lack of response existed a quiet acceptance, a helplessness to change the current course. He had made his decision. Who was she--who had proven treacherous and done so much damage already--to try to convince him otherwise? Moreover, short of groveling, what could she possibly say that she hadn't said already? With a sinking heart, she slowly lowered herself. Reluctant fingers reached for the tome, coupling it with the wand within her hand. And then she rose, turning as she did, to take her retreat. She couldn't bare to see him walk away from her as well. 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 |
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