Face The Truth

The observation that Evelynn had increased her level of participation in various activities was a mostly accurate one. Events such as the war of summer and winter, the tobogganing race, and other activities more geared towards her younger peers had been left alone in favour of spending the quiet that resulted from the absence of those younger peers deep in study for her upcoming GCSE's. However, she had allowed herself to be conned into attending a number of other social events. Tonight's Mistletoe Spin had been one of them. Nearly everyone in the tent had been absent that night, largely goaded by Salinger to make an appearance at the event into which so much of her time and effort had been spent planning. Were it not for how the night had played out, the ex-seeker might even still have been there.

As it was, she had left early to tail after Pericles' retreating form after he'd had a particularly intimate moment with one of the Durmstrang students. Or so it had seemed to Evelynn, anyway. A belief that had been made quite concrete by a particularly first-hand perspective, slipped unsolicited to her forethoughts by the foreign girl's thoughts. She hadn't understood why Pericles had departed so suddenly, thinking perhaps there had been some sort of foulplay. Nor was she prepared for his cold shoulder or the frigid words he sent her way. In the end, he'd dug a moat, leaving her stranded on the exterior of his defenses without any option but to turn tail. Without any desire to return to the festivities, she had instead been the first to return to the tent, silent in her dressing down for the night and grateful for the apparent solitude.

Thoughts of the night were not as easily washed away as makeup, however. They clung to her like a fetid stench, scratching at her focus. Soon enough, English books were set aside, head turning to the stack of cards on her night stand that had not yet been put away after the girls' night the evening before. Brows furrowed. Divination had always been a sort of obscure fascination for her. Unlike some gifted few, Fate did not whisper into her ear the secrets of that which was to come. As much as she tried, she could not simply pluck at the threads of Time to listen to their vibrations in the same way that others could. And yet, neither was she quite like everyone else, either. She still didn't quite understand it, but she seemed to have some sort of intermittent affinity for picking up on the thoughts of others. It was hard not to believe the two were in some way related. Even the readings she'd given last night were at least in some way accurate, although none of them would know to what extent until the coming year had passed. Time and again, during times of doubt and uncertainty, she felt drawn to them, as though they held a key to unraveling the unknown if only she knew how to See.

So there she was, sitting with the deck in one palm, cards slowly turning over for the start of a spread, when Finnegan pushed through the entrance. Eyes flicked up reflexively at the intrusion, not quite certain if she was disappointed or relieved to find that it wasn't Pericles. She was about to reach for the cards to put them away when Finn seemed to make a bee-line for her, plop down, and immediately acknowledge their existence. "They are tarot cards," came her simple response, tone level. "Divination is an magical art that seeks to gain insight into various situations, or peek into the future, through a variety of methods. Using these—" She gestured to the cards. "—is one such method."

Her gaze shifted from the cards to his face to gauge his level of understanding. It was only then that she noticed the way he tried to hide his face, but even his hands couldn't quite hide all the bits of paper that clung to his face like tiny little blooming flowers on a cactus. Lips hadn't even parted to present her inquiry before he preemptively cut it off. She quirked her mouth, then had to suppress a half chuckle-half sigh as he gradually lifted his hands to show her the damage. Immediately, she relinquished the deck of cards to the tent floor, rotating to retrieve her wand and fish in her bag for a jar. "Episkey," she said, pointing her wand to his face. "Honestly..." The murmur of her voice lowered in register as she traded her wand for the jar labeled 'Murtlap Essence', dabbing the salve onto any spots that still remained. "The Minor Healing Charm is a second year spell. You could have spared yourself any embarrassment on the trip back to the tent.." Not that it looked like she seemed to mind having to mother him a bit. "What did you do? It almost appears as though you were trying to shave."

"I thought I'd only make it worse..."

Evelynn had chuckled a bit at that, shrugging a brow in a sort of well I can't argue with that way. At least the lad had been paying attention in Transfiguration. One of the biggest rules in the class was that if you weren't completely certain that you knew exactly how to fix a problem, you sought help from someone who would. At no time should attempting to fix it oneself be attempted lest it lead to a worsened outcome.

"What did you do? It almost appears as though you were trying to shave."

"Shh!"

Auburn brows shot nearly up into her fringe as her junior's hand clapped itself right over her mouth. Initial shock melted into bemusement as he checked over his shoulder as though she had missed the memo that their conversation was supposed to be upheld with utmost confidentiality. Then it dawned on her that he was concerned about privacy because he had attempted to shave and she could hardly contain the laughter that still spoke volumes through the smirk stifled beneath his palm. Brows rose in response to his pointed look, but when he dared to return to her the freedom of speech, she refrained from mockery at his expense.

"Oh, I assure you, Mister Connor," she began, reverting to formalities that had largely been forsaken by this point in camp due to the solemn severity of the nature of this coming-of-age revelation, "card nicking will not be necessary. I swear to tell not a soul of your valiant efforts to slay your--"

She couldn't even finish getting out the promise before he changed tactics, however. Mention of the Mistletoe Spin flipped the teasing grin hinting at the corner of her lips into a tight-lipped frown bordering on disapproval.

"I did, yes... Aly can be pers--" With every intention of deflecting the question of her participation, Evelynn faltered as he continued a rather relentless line of questioning.

"Did you kiss anyone Eve?"

Memory of Eden and Aly came to mind, though neither of them had elicited the sort of reaction that Evelynn had sought by going. And it wasn't as though she had never kissed someone before. Under normal circumstances, she likely would have just shrugged off the fact that it had happened and thought little of it. "That is no--"

"Ohhh.... you did, didn't you?"

Somehow the way Finnegan asked made it seem like something she should be embarrassed about. She could feel her ears warming even as she had tried to tell him to mind his own business. Had he stopped here, he might have been able to enjoy a brief moment of Evelynn faltering on the defensive.

"Is that why you're back so soon?"

The direction of pressing forward would elicit a shift. Embarrassment drained from her features, leaving a mask of bitter apathy.

"Who was it? Was it good? Was it... you know... a handsome blonde?"

"It was not." Confirmation of the negative came sharply. She did not have to guess as to who the 'handsome blonde' might have been. "Do you not know? Those sorts of things are not for him." There had only been one in their particular gathering, and given the way that he had just told her off, she did not find jesting about intimacy to be particularly amusing. "If you must know, it was Eden and Aly," she continued rather nonchalantly, perhaps hoping that giving him a morsel might make him drop the subject. "And there was nothing particularly exciting about either of them." The statement rang with a certain finality.

"Now stop deflecting." Lips pursed as she resumed her task of replacing wads of little white paper with dabs of healing salve. "Why were you attempting to shave? You do not even have facial hair to speak of, yet. Or did somebody hex you with fur growth or something similar? Is someone bullying you?"

F I N N E G A NxC O N N O R
omnes magni homines primum fuerunt pueri

gryffindor, third-year
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“Eden and Aly?” Finn's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his dark fringe. “Both of them? At the same time or—” In a heartbeat his eyebrows had traversed the way back down and settled into a hawkish frown. “How does that work? How'd you... all three of you...” Evelynn would undoubtedly recognize the scrunched-up face he made from whenever she had seen him study in their shared dormitory: thin lips sandwiching a stuck-out-tongue and a hawkish frown marring his features like whenever he got stumped on an assignment. “How do you even make kissing boring?” Awkward or awful or amazing all seemed far more likely outcomes in his head, but boring? Leave it to the greatest witch in Gryffindor who could accomplish anything she set her mind to, to find kissing boring. "Why were you attempting to shave? You do not even have facial hair to speak of, yet. Or did somebody hex you with fur growth or something similar?" She wasn't going to let that go, was she? Like a deflating balloon he flopped sideways and threw himself down on the nearest bed. “"Eve.” A low groan followed by a deep sigh sounded while he dragged his hands across his face like he was trying to peel his skin off. He shouldn't have told her, now she was going to think he was some kind of spineless jelly who couldn't beat a flubberworm in a fight if he tried. Not that she would be entirely wrong to think it. Bex, a year below him and a girl to boot, had delivered a bruising blow to his self-esteem when she had managed to take him down and keep him pinned with one arm. A faint shade of pink emerged around the ears. Eve could never know about the humiliating defeat, nor could Bex know about this particular adventure. “Just... just forget it, OK?” he croaked pathetically. “Please?” "...Is someone bullying you?" “What?” The indignant reply cracked his voice. “Nobody's bullying me.” He propped himself back up on his elbows, squared his shoulders and eyed Evelynn like she'd gone mad. “I mean... no. No hexes, no bullying, no fur growth.” He pulled a face at the last bit. “That's disgusting, Eve.” Not in the least because he immediately envisioned the neighbour's cat, throwing up hairballs. Ugh. “Besides,” he was back to lying on his back and talking to the enchanted ceiling of their tent now, “even if someone tried to, like, turn me into a ferret or something, they'd never manage, they'd never hit me. I'm too fast, you know.” He flashed a lopsided grin in her direction. “Quite possibly the best Quidditch player in living memory, really.” There was a slight, thoughtful pause before he blurted out the next thought that struck him. “Yet you get all the kisses. Why? You don't even like it apparently, gosh, that's unfair that is...” The sheer injustice of it all was utter agony. He didn't need multitudes of people who'd want to kiss him, just one particularly handsome blonde would do. Was that too much to ask? God his life sucked. An idea struck him then, which was quite the shock to the system. He bounced back into view then, near tripping over his own legs as he jumped up and sat down directly opposite of Evelynn, resting his head in the cup of his hands and doing that doe-eyed thing he usually reserved for when he really, really wanted to get something out of his mum. “Eve... uhm, Eve, look, could you...” The smack of the lips, the slight rocking back and forth as he considered the best way to continue, it was likely all quite familiar to the lioness by now. “How do you... how'd you get two people to fancy you? I mean, three, technically, if we count the dashing blonde, though he's not exactly blonde I suppose. Anyway, did you,” he leaned in conspiratorially and lowered his voice. “You know, slip something into their drinks? I've read about certain potions...”

In vino veritas, in aqua sanitas.08/01/2025 Summer Camp

"What? No," came Evelynn's emphatic response, a firm attempt to cut the boy's imagination off before he could get it off the ground. The last thing the girl needed was a mental image of kissing both Eden and Aly simultaneously. She couldn't help but plaster him with a peculiar just stop trying to figure it out look, and finished with one last flat "because it is," when he expressed some sort of exasperation of how she could possibly make kissing boring. It wasn't her fault the act was just a matter of lips mashing together in borderline grotesque fashion. She was still trying to figure out why so many people seemed to lose their sensibilities at the notion. Which was why she had moved on to the more interesting topic at hand.

An amused smile curled the corners of her mouth as the boy rather melodramatically flopped to the side. "Finnegan." She replied in echo to his Eve. He really did look rather pathetically embarrassed at the notion, though. It was almost enough to garner her sympathies, but asking Eve to forget something was about as effective as asking Pericles not to comfort someone who was crying; or Winnie not to defend Pride. It just wasn't going to happen. And the way in which she raised a brow along with the decided side-eye cast his way said exactly as much.

"You need to use shaving cream," she cut in with a shrug, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes as he proceeded down another dramatic reaction to an innocuous question about bullying (shame on her for expressing concern, apparently) and ferrets (that had drawn a rather flat uh-huh) and exaggerated Quidditch prowess (well, he actually was getting rather decent at the sport..) and her somehow getting all the kisses (she wasn't even going to validate that with so much as a reaction). "Pull the skin taught, and go with the grain of hair growth." She might not have to shave her face, but she did at least know a thing or two about shaving. "Or," she went on, temporarily abandoning her tarot cards to recline back against her palms. "You could simply learn a hair vanishing charm or use Nair..."

Her explanation trailed off as the boy jumped suddenly back up onto his feet and plopped himself down directly in front of Evelynn. Lips thinned, crimping at their corners as she eyed him suspiciously. He was doing that thing he did when he wanted something, like that time he'd tried to convince her that it was really in her own best interest for her to write a two foot article on the use of dragon dung in potions for him because it would allow him to practice more Quidditch and ensure Gryffindor took home the Quidditch cup which was in all of their best interests, really. Needless-to-say, she did not do his homework. Still, she wait patiently for him to find his words. At first.

"Oh not this again," she sighed in exasperation. "I did not get two people t--Wait what do you mean, three?" She had thought the earlier reference to a blonde had referred to Pericles, but given how he had marched right out of the event and had snapped at her, that was now in question. "Finnegan." She pushed herself a bit straighter, hands splaying before her in a sort of just hold on a second manner. "I did not get anyone to fancy me. Nobody fancies me. The kisses were only fleeting and part of playing out a tradition when two people find themselves standing together below a sprig of mistletoe. That was how the dance worked," she tried to explain. "It was sort of akin to musical chairs. When the music stopped, you would find yourself paired with a new partner and sometimes there would be mistletoe hanging above you. If there was, then you kiss. There was nothing more to it than that. I most certainly did not slip Amortentia into anybody's drink. Nor should anyone ever do so. It might be called Love Potion, but it is anything but."

Her expression softened, knees pulling up to her chest, arms wrapping loosely around them. "As far as I know, there has only ever been one person who fancied me," she went on. "It was rather problematic. He would grow jealous of my interacting with others. It once drew him to lash out physically at another under a guise of 'protecting my honour' during a silly game of Spin the Bottle. He expected me to be grateful, then grew irate that I would not reciprocate his feelings. It destroyed our friendship. Sometimes...things are just better kept the way they are."

F I N N E G A NxC O N N O R
omnes magni homines primum fuerunt pueri

gryffindor, third-year
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"You need to use shaving cream" Something flickered across his face, a twitch of the lips, there and gone so quickly you'd miss it if you blinked. He said nothing back, didn't nod, didn't blush, didn't even flinch in embarrassment at the practical advice. On the outside, he kept up his usual banter, jumping from one topic to the next like a squirrel hoarding acorns. On the inside, he filed the advice away carefully for later. Shaving cream. He'd never heard of it before, but it sounded like something Tesco's would have. Her next piece of advice, slipped in between his breathless rambling, was filed away just as quickly. The thank you for the helpful advice remained unsaid, like so many things in his conversations with Evelynn. There were plenty of things he quietly admired about Evelynn, more than he'd ever admit. First was her skill as a witch. To him, she made spells look easy, frustratingly so. Potions too. Apparently potions class wasn't about surviving the small disasters he managed to brew with worrying frequency. For her, it was actually a productive subject, judging by how often he'd seen her whip out exactly the right potion whenever a situation called for one. Her Quidditch skills came a close second. She probably thought that was why he kept being drawn to her. It had been at first. But it was something else, something much bigger, that had made him glue himself to her. Finnegan had decided long ago that Eve was born a hundred years too late. Almost everything about her was stiff and hopelessly old-fashioned. She reminded Finnegan of Marilla Cuthbert, which probably made him her Anne with an E, though he hoped he wasn't quite as dreamy. Still, there was something strangely comforting about the comparison. There was comfort in the way Evelynn always seemed to be there, comfort in how she fussed over him like a second mum, comfort in the quiet scratching of her quill when she stayed up late while he was already nodding off. It was Eve who gave him Dreamless Sleep, Eve who could push him to do his homework with just one look, Eve who listened (or half-listened) to his non-stop rambling, Eve who always answered his questions or tossed him tips whenever he got stuck on a spell or charm. He'd never asked for any of it. It just happened. It happened because they'd built something together, something steady, though neither of them ever said so out loud. They played a music that sounded between the notes, sung a song of quiet parts, whispered unspoken bits, in their secret language of expressive brows and pointed looks. In that regard, at least, they were equals. They both spoke that silent language, and they both understood it well. So, when he sat there in front of her, there was no need to say, "Thanks, I'll use shaving cream next time." He'd already said it by saying nothing. Not reacting wasn't the same as rejecting her advice. He hadn't cringed or pulled a face which was as good as saying yes and thank you. In the same way, he effortlessly caught the way her lips thinned and knew she'd seen his look for what it was: part pleading, part curiosity. In truth, he didn't really think widening his eyes at her would convince her to give him a Love Potion, but he couldn't stop his face from making that Puss In Boots expression. That was just what his face looked like when he was saying please without actually saying please. It didn't last very long anyway. "I did not get two people t--Wait what do you mean, three?" “Aly, Eden, and Pericles” he answered simply. He counted the number of people out on his digits for good measure, as if that proved anything. She'd brought up two of them herself, and the third one was an extremely obvious addition in Finnegan's mind. "...Nobody fancies me." A snort of laughter burst out of him, sharp and quick through flared nostrils, and just like that his short-lived interest in Love Potions was gone. “That's a load of rubbish, that is.” And that was putting it nicely. Evelynn knew that sometimes Finnegan couldn't help but show off just how many curse words he'd picked up, and usually he let half of them fly just to see if he could shock her. Not today though. Today he was feeling generous, so he stuck with rubbish, rather than reaching for utter bollocks or other, still more colorful remarks. “Loads of people fancy you,” he added. “You're not ugly.” High praise coming from an almost-thirteen-year-old boy trying to say he thought she looked nice without actually using the word. After all, if he said she looked 'nice' it would be all too easy for her to think he counted himself among the group of Evelynn admirers. That would be the death of him. He would rather let @George Henry dye his hair pink than endure such awkwardness. "The kisses were only fleeting and part of playing out a tradition when two people find themselves standing together below a sprig of mistletoe. That was how the dance worked." “Suuuuure...” he drawled, struggling not to laugh. It wasn't that he didn't believe her, just that she kept giving him perfect chances to wind her up. "It was sort of akin to musical chairs." “Uh-huh,” he echoed, not bothering to hide his grin. "—When the music stopped, you would find yourself paired with a new partner and sometimes there would be mistletoe hanging above you. If there was, then you kiss." “How unfortunate.” "There was nothing more to it than that." “Of course...” He'd never tell her, but she had been the one to teach him how to raise his eyebrow just so. She always did it to him whenever he strolled into their dorm looking like he was about to dive into bed instead of getting on with his homework. Evelynn had, like many things in her life, perfected the raised eyebrow. The one that said, Are you sure you don't have work to do? Now he used it on her. Are you sure there wasn't more to it? his thin, raised eyebrows asked her. "I most certainly did not slip Amortentia into anybody's drink." His eyebrows dropped. I don't doubt it "Nor should anyone ever do so." What's the point of having the potion then? "It might be called Love Potion—" Because that's what it is... "—but it is anything but." Oh. He waited for an explanation, but nothing else came. His frown deepened. She'd stamped out the fire that had been his interest in Love Potions, but she'd left the embers smouldering. For all his flaws, and despite his misplaced pride at his cleverness of calling himself a Straight A student, Finnegan at least had the sense to know when to stop teasing. He knew when it was time to stop grinning like an idiot. The playful glint in his eyes dulled to a more serious expression and his mind was cast back to very similar memories as Evelynn dredged up the past. Memories Evelynn probably hadn't meant to stir. He thought of @Maggie Hawkins slapping poor @Bubba McGarry across the face. Back then, he'd just shrugged it off. But thinking about it now, especially knowing Maggie was practically glued to @June Selwyn, he found himself feeling a lot more sorry for Blubber McGarry, and not just because of his terrible first name. There was jealousy too. Maggie got to be near June all the time, even shared a dorm with her. But what stuck with him most was Evelynn's offhand comment about not returning someone's feelings. She made it sound like the boy she'd been with had messed everything up, but Finnegan couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for the nameless ex. Evelynn had no idea what it was really like to love someone who didn't love you back. Unreciprocated and unrequited were two fancy words from the dictionary he desperately wished he had never learned, but he knew what they meant. He'd felt it. Had she? Silence stretched between them. If Eve knew him half as well as he thought she did, she'd realize his silence said a lot. Even if she missed that, she couldn't miss the way his gaze dropped or the hard, fast bite of his lower lip. She'd struck a nerve, though probably not the one she meant to. Her words—that unreciprocated feelings could ruin friendships—would come true in two months' time, when Finnegan would slam the door on his 'friendship' with June. “Hmm.” Finnegan hummed after a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought. What else could he say? He knew better than to poke around and ask who Evelynn had been with. In the vein of what she had just said, some memories were best left alone. He shrugged, but it was slow and clumsy. It didn't mean what shrugs usually did. It wasn't that he didn't care—he cared too much, really—but he didn't want to upset her, not for real. All he could do was try to fill the awkward silence while her words marinated in his brain juices. When he moved again, it was just a tiny dip of his chin toward the cards spread out in front of her. “What about your cards?” He said, eager to change the subject. Next he was up again, sauntering to his bedside and dropping to his knees to rummage through his things, chatting all the while. His words tumbled out with their usual quick rhythm, undisturbed even as he pulled his jumper over his head and tossed it aside. “You said you can use them for divination?” He kicked off his shoes, dropped to his knees and half-buried his face in his trunk in search of his PJs. “How does that work, exactly? Can you ask it stuff?” He didn't pause, didn't think twice about how reedy he seemed without a baggy jumper and too-large trousers on. “Like, will I survive Charms class next year, or will we finally win a Quidditch game...” Lean legs slipped into worn cotton that settled neatly on his frame and smelled of fabric softener. Then he bounded back over to Evelynn on light, bare feet. He flopped back down opposite the teenage girl, armed with a blanket draped like a cape over his bony shoulders, and a warm smile that spread wide like a paper fan. He'd gotten ready for bed without instruction or a single complaint and looked at Evelynn like he wanted to cash in his reward for such excellent behavior. “You did one for Bex...” he nudged. If Evelynn wanted to play at mother goose, she'd have to treat her ducklings fairly or face relentless guilt-tripping. In truth Finnegan wasn't sure if Evelynn had actually laid her carrot cards for Bex yet, but Rebecca had mentioned something about being offered 'a reading', and that was reason enough for him to demand ask equal treatment.

In vino veritas, in aqua sanitas.08/01/2025 Summer Camp