Moonlight on Shattered Wings pv pericles finished

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	Whether or not Pericles' dormmate had actually forgotten something in the Astronomy tower was ambiguous. As he took wing from a window, it occurred to the eagle that his girls may have only come up with an excuse to be alone, but he supposed he'd determine that when he did- or didn't- find the missing sextant. It wasn't as if he hadn't leapt at the opportunity. All it took was the mention of a missing tool and Peri offered to take a look, chasing the satisfaction of helping a friend while indulging in a nighttime jaunt. The animagus' flight was equally swift and stealthy. It was a short glide between the Ravenclaw and Astronomy towers, so he savored its loveliness all the more fervently: a waxing gibbous moon, pleasantly brisk air, and the blissful sort of silence that enabled a wandering mind to travel pathways otherwise elusory in the garish distraction of daytime. "...DAMN IT!" So much for that train of thought. The peace was short-lived, as it often was at Hogwarts. A girl's scream ricocheted up the spiral staircase and out beyond the balcony, eliciting a startled clack of the bird's beak, causing his flight to falter just as he was about to land atop the ballustrade. Logic shrieked Get help. Instinct argued Press on. Had a friend been in his position, Pericles would have scolded them for not bringing backup, but he and hypocrisy were no strangers. He would reason that she sounded angry, not threatening. Where was the harm in proceeding if he did so with caution? The eagle determinedly swooped beyond the open observatory, dove down the stairwell, and fluttered to perch on a banister by the open archway leading into class. Dark gray wings hugged his body, shielding the glaring white of his down feathers as well as he was able. Peri peered around the corner with a single eye. She looked like a tiny madwoman. Ink-streaked skin, tear-stained cheeks, stifled sobs and wild eyes that darted after nothing. Restless pacing carried her over scattered parchment and a spreading black pool. Pericles wagered she was either a first or second year, and her casual clothes misled him into wrongfully assuming she had some degree of muggle influence in her life. The bird flinched when the witch sent a book tumbling across the stone floor, seething about an essay. "Why can't I get it right?" And there it was, a story as old as expectation itself. Self-depreciation drove her to her knees, crushed under the weight of perceived inadequacy, culminating in a wail that the watcher felt in his marrow. Pericles felt his heart sink into his stomach as sobs wracked her slight frame. His gaze averted, conflict brewing in his chest. He knew, better than most, not to come too close to someone having a blatant breakdown. But he couldn't just leave her there, either. Just as he resolved to flutter to the floor and creep into the room, he heard her voice again. "Go away." The eagle stiffened mid-step behind the base of an oversized telescope, thinking he'd been spotted, until she shouted at a voice Peri hadn't heard. "Shut up. SHUT UP!" Sharp eyes darted rapidly around the room, but found no one there. Evidently he'd interrupted a descent into mania. Disconcerting as it was, a psychological lapse wasn't as terrible as, say, a curse or parasite that drove her to violence. She seemed more a threat to herself- a prisoner of deeply rooted insecurity. While the sixteen-year-old wasn't confident that he could help, he could certainly try. "Stars don’t get second chances when they fall out of orbit, do they ?" Pericles couldn't stomach a moment more of spectating her agony. He decidedly loosed a piping chirp to forewarn his presence, then fluttered from behind the professor's replica of Winged Victory, snowy plumage catching the moonlight. The animagus landed at a non-threatening distance across the room, taking human shape beneath its towering orrery. Pericles wore a dark ensemble with a pale shirt that unintentionally aligned to his aquiline palette. Mismatched eyes skimmed the little witch over, one silver and steady, the other a golden prosthetic that swiveled overactively in its socket. Both stilled after a hard blink. Hadn't he seen her somewhere...? Passed her in the Ravenclaw commons? His expression settled between sympathy, curiosity, and a concern that rang in his gentle tenure. "They burn up in the atmosphere, I'm afraid." He wore a melancholy smile in his attempts to talk her down. "Was that a question for your studies? Or are you the one off orbit?"
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| @Elena Clark |

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It is said that fallen stars were once the brightest in all the skies - burnt out, for everything golden eventually dies. Isn't it the destiny of stars to collapse ? Yet it is a common misconception. Fallen stars are not what their name presupposes, but mere chunks of ice and rocks, entering the atmosphere at high speed and burning up with a streaking flash of light. A simple meteor who mistook their brillance for starlight, a fool who got too close to the radiance of greatness, ancient icarus meeting its inevitable end. A golden child realising its made of rotten iron. (I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star.) Nails digging under her skin, trying to find the gold it once held. This pain was different. Unholy, decaying, mocking. How foolish she was, thinking she was anything other than a mere rock floating through the skies, how foolish of her to believe she could burn as brightly as everyone around her. It seemed so easy, so easy to shine when your light isn't borrowed, when your brillance depends on the reflection of others. She was only seen when their light hit her, only seen through them, how foolish of her to think it might have been otherwise ? At least in the dark the moon could be beheld. The raven was consumed by its darkness, rotten honey coating her feathers, pulling her down should she even think about taking flight. How foolish of her, to think she might one day grow wings and gain the skies. Destined to burn, to fall before even reaching the light. Foolish little girl. What is to give light must endure burning. Had the golden girl been in full possession of her abilities, she might have noticed a faint flutter of wings from the corner of her eyes, a light metal sound as claws encircled the balcony, or a flash of white feathers reflecting on the telescope's pristine surface. Yet she was more focused on kicking books out of her way than observing her surroundings. Why would she ? Despite having met a few souls on some of her journeys to the tower, those were still rare encounters, and crossing the past of anyone at this ungodly hour was certainly the least of her problems. Breathing heavily, eyes fixed on a breech in the wall, she tried to come back to her senses. It wasn't like her, crashing down like this. Her whole body felt at the verge of collapsing, fingers shaking harder than usual, and each of her breaths were trembling. Exhaustion, yet the stubborn girl would never admit it. Not as long as this equation resisted her. A chirp cut through her sobs, and she glanced up, puffy eyes catching the trail of a white flash. Another fallen star ? Wings fluttering denied her theory, and she raised to her feet, slowly twirling as ocean eyes followed the estranged bird's flight. The bird - a white-bellied sea eagle, if she remember her father's ornithological tirades - landed across the room, watching her with curious eyes. She took a step closer, curiosity softening the sorrow that had just moments ago gripped her face. It felt... otherworldly. The quiet understanding and pity she glimpsed in its eyes were disarming, as if the winged creature were offering her company on this cold, lonely night. (and the bird took a human shape.) She immediately stepped back, a gasp escaping her, eyes wide, as her pulse accelerated. Panic set its claws on her chest, pressing it down until the air left its enveloppe. Her breath grew heavier, thoughts running wild. Who is that ? How did - he's an animagi. An older student ? What is he doing here ? And- oh god did he saw me earlier ? Eyes flickering, passing over his silhouette without trying to discern anything, she took another step back, arms and hands slightly spread out - like you would approach, or rather flee from, a wild animal. Perhaps if she was quick enough she could still run away before he does anything and pretend this never hap- "They burn up in the atmosphere, I'm afraid." So much for running. His melancholy smile fooled no one, as her eyes only narrowed in response. That wasn't a literal question, you moron. Feeling, and probably looking like a cornered cat, hissing and biting, Elena glanced around, taking the scene in. Her books and parchments were scattered on the floor, it would take too much time to gather them all and flee. Then again, this pile of empty essays and nonsense was probably not worth it, she could just grab her bag and g-... a bag which, of course, was at the feet of this intruder. "Was that a question for your studies? Or are you the one off orbit?" Her eyes shot right back at him, but her biting remark died on her tongue as she locked eyes with him. Or locked with one eye, at most, for the other was a golden prosthetic. He was tall, older than her, with snow white hair and a single silver eye - sea salt and drowned cities, a blizzard over crumbling ruins. A familiar sight, one she couldn't quite place. "Do I know you ?" Her question had lost the aggressiveness it once held, voice slightly higher, with a barely noticeable pleading tinge. She couldn't stop it from searing through the usually soft silk of her voice, just like she couldn't stop the light tremor of her hands. Pleading for what, she didn't know. For his departure, surely - her walls had cracks running along the stones, and was on the verge of collapsing. A sob felt permanently stifled at the back of her throat, and she knew that if she uttered any more words she might crumble completely - a sight no soul should ever witness, for her own sake. Yet here he was. Leave, screamed her entire body, yet her eyes did this irritable thing again - eyebrows bowed, drawn together ; wide and slightly raised eyes, glistening with the tears she was trying to stop from spilling. A paradox, transcripted by her own body. Sniffling, she turned around sharply, wiping her eyes. The world tilted beneath her for a moment, and she reached for the balustrade to steady herself. Eyes closed, she took a slow, trembling breath. When she opened them again, she looked up at the moon - her back still to him."Whoever you are," she said quietly, "I think you should go."

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	Pericles simultaneously mirrored her, hands open and splayed in what was meant to be a disarming pose. She reminded him of a feral kitten spitting and backing into a corner. When asked if they knew one another, he softly announced: "Pericles Dralt, sixth-year, Ravenclaw," as if to say now you do. Her suggestion to leave did nothing to drive him off. He'd already seen the state she was in, lunging forward a single step when the girl nearly toppled over on the spot. With hair like spun honey and eyes deep and blue as an oceanic trench, she reminded him of a haunted doll. Not the nasty things infesting the sidelines of the school, mind, but something once dearly beloved, now lost and tarnished by the elements. "And I think you should come with me. Neither of us should be here so late. I only came for...." That rolling mechanism in his head locked onto a glint of brass caught in the folds of a beanbag. The sextant must have fallen out of his dormmate's bag after all, it was the seat towards the front of class she liked most. He plucked it from the chair and held it up with an explanatory gesture. "If a prefect tries to stop us, we'll tell them I'm taking you back to the Commons." The upperclassman announced this plan with the casual ease of one who'd used his year and spotless repute to get away with things before. Glancing at the scattered pages and spilled ink, Peri remarked rather bluntly, "You look like you could use the rest."
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| @Elena Clark |

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Star child; are you listening ? Do you speak to galaxies at night, when the streetlights make them invisible ? Are your words covered in stardust (are you choking on it) ? Do your tears sparkle like the night sky; a home you cannot find. Oh, dear starchild; are you trapped ? Does your fingertips leave marks (are the burns shaped like constellations) ? And does the shine from the lightbulbs feel wrong on your too tight skin; yearning for something far away ? Starchild, do you know what supernovas are ? Her mind was slipping, drifting away in a long-time disappeared place, clouded by smoke. The ground was splitting open before her delicate feet, and the walls were distorting, getting out of her reach, letting her crumble below the earth. A pounding, within her head, within her chest, something seething, yearning to be freed, to get out, leaving claw marks on the inside of her brain. A sharp light, with burnt edges, world spinning and spinning until north and south are woven together, until all you feel is down down down. The ground, welcoming you with open arms, a warm embrace for your freezing body, and you think - why not remain here ? Where my heart is wanted, where my bones belong, for after all, doesn't everything made of dust eventually return to dust ? And then she blinked. Arms resting on the steady stones of the balustrade, head rightfully placed on top of her shoulders, feet firmly planted on the ground. Despite the hints of gray lingering at the edges of her vision, the golden child was indeed standing on her two legs, back turned at the intruder - who now had a name - and eyes resolutely fixed on the moon. She didn't return his introduction, why would she ? Perhaps if she ignored him long enough he might go, and she could resume her existential crisis as if a looming bird had never interrupted it. Leaning her head on her outreached hand, she gazed down, trailing over the giddy view the tower offered. View which stirred her dizziness, causing her to stand up again and lean away from the balcony. A first query at heading back ignited that irritated flame which had been yearning to light, fueled by exhaustion and frustration over the past week. Yet she chose to ignore it, watching him with a sideway glance pick up something that resembled a sextant. A second query earned an eyeroll - despite her back being turned, the annoyed sigh that followed had the same effect. Leaning on a pillar, she gazed at the sky, fighting the urge to scream, what each other boy's words seemed to power. "You look like you could use the rest-" The last straw. "I do not," she lashed out, turning back sharply, "need your help." Taking two strides towards him, she felt the anger contained soaring until it flooded her entirely. Her breath quickened, heart beating loudly as a redness invaded her cheeks. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but to me, you're just some stranger who walked on me like two seconds earlier. I do not need your fucking help nor anyone's, I'm doing perfectly fine and I don't need anyone telling me otherwise." Tears. When did those arrive ? Spilling down her cheeks as her chest rose and fell, quicker and quicker, until a pained sob broke out. Ignoring the suddenly heavy legs and the constellation of little black dots, she kicked a nearby book, taking insure strides across the rooms. "I'm fine, I'm FINE. I don't need anyone pointing how tired I look, I don't need them saying I should probably get some sleep, because OH GUESS WHAT ? I CAN'T SLEEP. I HAVE NIGHTMARES EVERY NIGHT, I SEE STAG-SHAPED FIGURES EVERYWHERE I GO, AND I CANNOT TELL ANYONE BECAUSE IM-" Her voice broke, a week of sleepless night suddenly pushing on her shoulders, as she buried her head between her hands, strangled sobs escaping her. She suddenly felt extremely hot, pearls of sweat dripping down her neck, world tipping at each step, darkness obscuring her vision. The words just spilled themselves out of her mouth, without being able to control them. "I'm terrified someone figures out there's something wrong with me, and maybe there is, maybe the rotten thing I feel is just who I am, and that's why she never cared for me, maybe she saw it ? And my grades are slipping, and subjects I used to be the best at turns their back on me, and I can't seem to remain perfect, and cracks are running along my skin, and now I see shadows everytime I blink, and-" The night swallowed it all.

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	Pericles knew there was a point people could reach in which they were immune to reason and dedicated to hysteria. Concern kept him quiet, but when the girl whirled on him, his hand closed around the wand hidden in his pocket. The duellist instinctively tensed, face hard as he tried to determine whether this was a manic episode or temper tantrum. A wary distance was maintained while each word was committed to memory. Biting back the urge to tease her foul language, Pericles listened, racking his brain for what could cause the symptoms she described. Night terrors, visions, delirium... curse spiders, hag slugs, blood mushrooms? Hogwarts had a grab-bag of terrors with which to warp young minds, if magical life didn't already strain the psyche enough. Pear waited for her to attack or tire herself out. Much to his luck, it was the latter. "Arresto Momentum!" The aspen wand whipped out and sparked, turning the smaller bird's perilous fall into a slow drift. He held it at the ready as he closed the distance between them to test for breathing and a pulse. Her thready heartbeat and sunken eyes eventually convinced him that exhaustion was the culprit, not a curse. It was tragic, really, how young the existential dread was getting them these days. He hadn't had his first psychological meltdown until at least his sixth month mark. Pericles directed his wand between the spilled ink, scattered pages and mistreated books in rapid succession. "Tergeo. Pack. Reparo." It paused in the stranger's direction. Mentally scrolling through his options, the wizard eventually settled on "Agero Pondus," the Feather-Light Spell. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, then she was slung over the other, in the same style as when his sister would haul him to bed after Pear pretended to fall asleep in the library. Leaving no evidence for the Astronomy professor to ponder over, he began the trek to the hospital wing.
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| @Elena Clark | Exiting scene |