"We're Dealing with a Reaper"
TIME | 12:00 AM
DATE | 31 January
INTERACTING |@Oliver Armani
00:00⠀─── ◉ ───────⠀00:00
518 | WC
N/A | MENTIONINGOn the eve of January 30th, it was expected there to not be a living soul present within the Trophy Room's hallowed halls. Walls are lined with endless rows of glass displays, holding memorabilia students have earned over the years. Aside from that, the room remains mostly barren. Low light emits from the imposing fireplace, flames embellishing the room in a low light. But, as the clock strikes on the twelfth hour, signaling the turn of the new day—ghosts and ghouls alike come to vacate the seemingly empty halls of Hogwarts.
Unbeknownst to those who dare enter the Trophy Room this late into the evening, the silhouette of a young girl haunts its dark corners.
Illness is a terrible, terrible thing—the body going to war with itself as it fends off the unwelcome bacteria. In attempts to fight away the illness, the rest of the person is rendered vulnerable—mind stripped of any mental fortitude, devolving man into its most primal self. Thoughts transform from coherent and mentally sound to a terrifying labyrinth filled with fuzzy memories and rash decisions.
While meek attempts have been made to finally evade it, the Bakir daughter finds herself plagued with illness during the cold winter months once more.
She's not entirely conscious, though it would be difficult to tell solely on her appearance alone. Her skin lacked any vibrancy, cheeks remaining slightly hallowed. While her eyes changed from their usual dulled-like state to something slightly more... feral, the change is so miniscule it's difficult for one to tell if they weren't a close confidant of Hana's. Thus, one had to rely on her change in mannerisms in order to pinpoint something was amiss.
Not having full control over her mind and body has caused her to devolve into a monster—a demon—extremely violent and strangely capable. The girl, previously referred to as Hana Bakir, heedlessly wandered the dimly lit castle, somehow transversing from the depths of the dungeons to the third floor. What had possessed her body to make stumble into the Trophy Room remains a mystery. It was on the same floor as the Hospital Wing; perhaps this was her body's way of screaming at her to finally cure the affliction plaguing her the past week.
She's donned in her typical nightwear, a long black gown falling to her ankles; and in her dastardly clawed hands grips a small pillow as she drags it along the perfectly polished floors. Strangely enough, her person is devoid of any of the laces or bows that characterize her appearance. Her short black hair sticks out in various directions, giving off the impression of electrification—it seems Frankenstein's bride possesses a younger body double.
The decaying body of the eldest Bakir daughter seeks out her next victim, civil ears listening in for any sudden movements or sounds. The only sound coming from her person being the occasional sniffle and the gentle pitter-patter of her furry slippers. She silently awaits the next poor soul, plagued by insomnia or whatever else kept them awake at this hour, to walk straight into her trap.
Please note: Hana is not actually posessed or anything of the sort! She just has the common flu lolcoded by charisse
Last edited by Sage Willows on 11 Feb 2025, 02:46, edited 1 time in total.
"We're Dealing with a Reaper"
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Yet again, Oliver found himself waking up head lolled on his study books, eyes shut in sleep. He had found a new location that worked for a nap room, but could no longer be used for his studies. The room of requirement, yes it was near perfect. So close to being so. No one to bug him, could fit anything he desired. Many a time's he'd used it as his kitchen for his baking expositions. Today he had thought it would be well for studying. He'd set it up perfectly, a bean bag chair in one corner, a somewhat larger work desk in the other, a chalk board incase he needed to write things down. (he did, also got distracted and drew Otis on it.)
Away from everyone, and by himself. He hadn't noticed how much time had passed, or that he had missed dinner. After all, he only popped in after classes for a quick moment. He didn't want to go to the common room, he hated it there. Who knew what could happen at the library. He'd been avoiding the study room ever since @Aodhan Shaw that annoyance had ambushed him. Claiming friendship, not in the way @Novalie Moon did. He was trying to get under his skin. And it was working. He wouldn't tell him that. Couldn't admit his faults. Sadly the grounds were to cold, wet, and soggy this time of year.
That had really only left him with the room of requirement. The only factor he hadn't considered was the fact that, no one was there. A blessing and a curse it seamed to be for the Slytherin. The past time's he'd been woken up from some helpful classmates. Namely Novalie, the girl did have her ups. Despite the many downs. This time, it had just been him. And the slight drool stain that had formed on his essay. Now he had to rewrite it. That would have to come tomorrow.
He wasn't sure how late it was, Based on the sheer lack of people in the halls he figured to late. If he was caught he would be in trouble. Again. Christ, he couldn't get a break. From the fifth floor, to the fourth. Oliver was sure that he could make it to the common room and his dorm without a hitch. No one, no thing, was in his way. It was the third floor that had ended up becoming the problem. The trophy room, an otherwise dull and boring room. Full with nothing but something for the graduates to remise on from there years, and complain about the dust. Even if they could be spotless.
At first, he didn't know what he was looking at. It was a shadow in the night, A phantom in the halls, a ghast in the corridors, a ghoul- well, he was running out of analogies. But the point was there. It was a sickly figure, pale. In a dark nightgown, dragging what was that- a pillow? For a split second Oliver would have thought it was Professor Lennox in her pajamas once again coming to find him sneaking out at night; even though it wasn't that. It just- looked that way. He tucked behind the door at the sight of the figure.
Not that he was scared, no he wasn't foolish enough to be scared. He was weary, rightfully so. He wasn't sure if this creature- yes, creature -was friendly or not. And he was not keen to find out. He had half a right mind to turn and find another way. Let some sorry sucker face it. But then, for a split second, after his eyes adjusted to the light perhaps. Oliver saw it in full. It wasn't a creature, ghost, ghoul, or anything of the sorts. It wasn't even an it. 'It' was a girl. How a girl could look so- he couldn't think of any better word then dead, it was beyond him.
Oliver cleared his throat and stepped out from behind the door, cautiously walking up to her. How silly of him to think she was a ghost, he grew up around one, he should have been able to tell by the first look at her. This was a human girl. Out past curfew. How dare she really, she was in her pajamas. Cozied up with a pillow and the girl had the audacity to come to the exact room he would be crossing to what? mock him? "What the hell are you doing up this late?" He hissed at her, did he know her? nope. Did that matter? nope. "You should be in bed," He looked her up and down, yes, she should. "Sure as hell dressed for it at least." Was he jealous? yes no.
Now closer to her, in the dim lighting; Oliver could see her face. Oh god, he wished he couldn't. He may have gagged a little at the sight. Sniffling like she was crying. If she wasn't dead, it may soon be that way. She looked like shit. Perhaps she was some ghoul of sorts. What, what was this? A sick joke? A sick student? "Maybe one in the hospital wing." He said taking a step back, pulling the neck of his robes over his mouth. Not wanting to catch whatever plague the girl was bringing upon the school.
wand, books and what not class stuff in a bag
Fearless - Oliver does not scare easily, not effected by terrible presence or unsettling aura
{ Stamina: 7 }{ Evasion: 5 }{ Strength: 10 }{ Wisdom: 3 }{ Arcane Power: 2 }{ Accuracy: 8 }Interacting : @Hana Bakir |||| @n/a : Mentioning
"We're Dealing with a Reaper"
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Interacting ! @Oliver Armani
Word Count ! 784
Dialogue ! #0a2457
X but black ! Outfit
N/A ! Mentioning
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| xxxxxxxx | xxxxSituated in front of the wavering flames of the fireplace, her menacing shadow stretched across a good portion of the hall, completely entrenching the surroundings in her silhouette. The proud glimmer of the trophies were eaten by the young girl's shadow, leaving nothing but a dulled piece of metal in its wake. The decaying corpse passively rocked back and forth, arms remaining limp at her sides. Her shadow soon followed her movements, dancing in greeting to the boy stationed behind the entrance door. "You should be in bed. Sure as hell dressed for it at least." Eyes stay trained on the ground, not quite acknowledging the boy adjacent to her. Only after an extremely prolonged period of silence did the Bakir slowly begin to raise her gaze. Piercing blue eyes were to be met with a wide-eyed stare, completed with a dark void barren of any sign of life. The look she gave him from beneath her lashes was inscrutable, the lifeless look in her eyes paired with an inhumane savagery—crazed and threatening. After another long moment, she raised her head fully to acknowledge him properly; head tilted, the Bakir quietly observed the boy—eyes flitting between the look of disgust plastered on his face, to his hands, to his feet. She then proceeded to do the most curious of things: she smiled at him. Lackadaisically the corners of her lips began to raise until the Bakir was fully baring her pearly white teeth to the boy. The smile was far too wide—devouring more than half of her face—and far too strained, as if she'd never been taught how to smile properly; to the average onlooker, the look on her face might've more closely resembled a hysterical grimace than an actual smile. It was a betrayal of her biological makeup. Making her look unnatural. Uncanny. "Maybe one in the hospital wing." The strained smile instantaneously fell into a angered snarl, and soon her teeth were being bared as a form of intimidation—a blatant warning to the blonde standing before her. It was apparent the corpse was still averse to the idea of taking a trip to the Hospital Wing, as even the mere mention of it seem to set it into a sort of Fight-or-Flight responses. Unfortunately for the boy, the body's immediate response was always fight. Blinking a singular time, she struck. Kicking her slippers off, she bounded towards the blonde with an animalistic vigor. Footsteps were light, a stark contrast to the aggressiveness the rest of her body language seemed to scream. With the pillow grasped tightly in her barbarous claws, she drew it back before striking the boy directly in the face. While not incredibly powerful, the attacks followed one another in quick precession, barring the blonde from retaliating properly. He stumbled back, blinking up at Hana in shock, before beginning to sputter various choice phrases at her—none of which heard by the girl. The pillow continuously rebounded off his face and back into the Bakir's hands, allowing her to strike him in the face once more before he'd effectively swatted her away. She landed a bit away from the boy, undressed pillow landing at his feet with a quiet thud. Curling her fingers inward to resemble that of an animal's claw, she didn't hesitate before striking again. In a couple steps she was back in his proximity, this time to slash at his face with her fingernails. Though not ridiculously long, the Bakir did her best to continuously slash at his face in an attempt to draw blood. He was shouting incoherently at this point, whether it be cries for help or demands to get off him, Hana wasn't sure. Nevertheless, she disregarded his words and continued her attack, finally drawing blood with a tear in his cheek. It seemed the boy finally processed that the Slytherin wasn't going to cease her assault simply because of a few high-pitched demands. Placing his hands on her face and stomach he roughly shoved at her. She landed on the floor with a thud. Quickly, she rose back to her feet in a crouched position, growling at the boy. No words were spoken as the Bakir daughter stepped back, allowing the darkness to welcome her in a gregarious embrace. Insincerely, Hana Bakir ────────────────────────────────── xxxxxOOC Notes: Kinda flopped with the ending and word count. pls lmk if I need to edit anything! Especially pertaining to how Ollie is depicted. OOC permissions given by writer to godmod
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"We're Dealing with a Reaper"
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The girl, ghost, dead thing was quiet for a long time. "Did you hear me?" Oliver asked, weary again. If this was some dark creature, there was no light way to put it. The Armani boy would have been fucked. His spell work- it wasn't good. He didn't know if he had any spells that would help him, if this really was a creature. One hell bent on harming defenseless students in the halls at night. As she looked up at him, Oliver could only feel a full body chill go through him.
It was so, earie. There were no other words for it, perhaps only off putting. There was only one conclusion that Oliver could come to. He was tired, so could anyone blame him for thinking that this was some sick nightmare? The ghouls smile was to wide, her eyes crazed. As if some maniac from a silly story made to scare kids into staying in bed. 'Beware ye first years,' he could almost imagen Aaron using it to scare gullible first years. 'For the ghost that haunts the Trophy Room at night. Waiting to drag rule breakers to the forbidden forest. Never to be seen again.'
And- Oh. Oh hell no. He pissed it off. Somehow the creature had a shorter fuse then him. Like a dog and a rabbit, Oliver backed away from the bared teeth, purely survival instincts on his part... Yes of course.. He was only scared of things he couldn't understand. This- It had to just be a girl. It was a dream. That was until the pillow hit his face. It kicked slippers off, and dashed at him, light-footed. It was just a pillow of course, so it didn't hurt at all. But it shocked him. She was relentless. "What the hell?!? Are you psychotic?!" He shouted out, with some other 'choice' words.
With another hit to his face, Oliver managed to swat it off, he didn't know what this was. Or what it wanted from him. Sure 'it' may have been a girl. Some creature. "Your fucking insane," He spat backing away, smart boy he was. He didn't care if someone heard him, or caught him. Anyone with eyes would be able to see that he was innocent here. He'd fallen asleep on accident. He'd been trying to get to bed. When he was essentially jumped. "What manic attacks someone in the middle of the night?" Oliver didn't know if that statement was right or not. He didn't know what time it was.
He looked at her, posed as what could only be described as a anthropomorphic feral beast. Shaped like a student. And again she charged. Oliver shook his head. "Ahg! Fuck! Is! Wrong! With! You!" He spat out with every swipe of the girls claws, intent now clear on harming him. His eyes widened as he felt warmth drip down his cheek. She actually did it. Why was he always getting attacked by insane girls? For no reason at all may he add. Oliver shoved her away, one hand pushing her face, the other her chest. "Shit!"
The cry escaped his lips without even thought, hand going up to wipe at it, and pulling away smearing the red across, Not a whole lot. The moon light illuminated the stain on his fingers. He gritted hit teeth and wiped it on his robes, or attempted to at least. Reaching into his bag, and pulling out his wand. He didn't know anything, not really. But the girl didn't know that. His hand shook lightly as he pointed it to the dark where she sunk into. Furthering Oliver's theories that she wasn't human.
He kept his eyes trailed on the dark, not daring to blink even. Debating making a run for it, it would likely be the safe bet. But Oliver Armani couldn't dare take the shame of being accused of being a coward. "Alright you son of a bitch," Crude. But deserved, this monster was after him. It was unexplainable. But she wanted to hurt him, Now Oliver wasn't sure he could win a fight with a dark creature. But he wouldn't back down from a fight. "I'm warning you, if you want a fight. I- I'll give you one. Don't expect me to go down easily."
If the worst came to it, He could use his want for a stake. Like some vampiric creature. Yes, that had to be what he had the misfortune of encountering in the hallways tonight. Why else would she be out for his blood? He didn't know much on vampires, it was garlic right? Garlic and wood through the heart. That would at least give some use to his wand, the useless twig that it was. Clearly that was why he couldn't cast well with it. It was made for slaying vampires.
wand, books and what not class stuff in a bag
Fearless - Oliver does not scare easily, not effected by terrible presence or unsettling aura
{ Stamina: 7 }{ Evasion: 5 }{ Strength: 10 }{ Wisdom: 3 }{ Arcane Power: 2 }{ Accuracy: 8 }Interacting : @Hana Bakir |||| @n/a : Mentioning