Tea Time and Accusations
Percival stared at the large wooden doors that seemed to stand in their oppressive silence. His uncle's invitation to him to tea was not a new occurrence last summer. It had become a weird tradition of sorts. One that he had little choice in, it seemed. However, he wasn't too sure why his Uncle was so dead set on having these little tea times. Having never seen the man consume tea before, he had assumed the other hated tea. His breath seemed to catch in his chest like a fluttering bird trapped in a cage. As the white wings hit the cages' gleaming gold edges, he could feel it within his own chest cavity. As if they were colliding with the edges of his rib cage. Fleeting with their suffering as they cried out for freedom. A sentiment he himself echoed with an unusual lackluster feeling. Maybe it was becoming how helpless he felt as his hand came up to trace the wooden grain. Rough against his finger as he felt the pain of a splinter seating itself on the pad of his pointer finger. Percival's brows furrowed before he curled his finger in on itself to rap on the wooden door.
A muffled voice echoed from behind the door, and Percival's hand reached down to the doorknob. Opening the door in one swift motion, revealing his Uncle hunched over his desk writing something. His Uncle didn't look up, busy scratching something into the parchment before him. Something so simple, and he could not help but feel stupid for standing there. "Close the door behind you, Percival." The dark-haired man spoke in a calm and detached manner. His hair tumbled haphazardly from his scalp to rest slightly above his shoulders. A dark black that seemed almost fitting for someone who was nothing more than an illegitimate. "I do apologize, but it seems the tea isn't ready." His Uncle spoke, gesturing to the teapot that sat inconspicuously between the two leather armchairs. The smell of peppermint filtered through the air, a scent that he had grown accustomed to during his last summer here.
Percival's heart jumped heavily into his throat as he stared at the man who had been more of a father than his own. As he stepped in, he pushed the door mostly closed. He felt far too vulnerable to fully shut the door, not when he was about to do something that had haunted his very dreams for years. The scent of old smoke and ink stung his nose as he breathed in heavily. Shadows danced along the bookshelves that lined the walls, watching and waiting for something. "I know what you did." he said, his voice quiet but steady.
His Uncle's hand stopped moving instantly, hovering in the air over where he had stopped writing, knuckles white as he gripped harshly onto his quill. Ink dripped down onto the paper. "And..what is it that you think you know?" His uncle asked, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him. Percival's mouth felt dry as he stared at his Uncle with a mixture of determination and fear. A second or two passed between them in awkward silence before his Uncle finally opened his mouth to break the silence. "Would you like some tea?" His Uncle added with a forced smile. Percival's eyes widened in surprise before his brows furrowed in confusion. "No. I don't want tea." he gritted out.
The older man's gaze met his own, flat and unreadable. Deep, dark pools of nothingness stared into him. An icy feeling spread through his body, almost convincing him that it wasn't actually summer outside. Percival swallowed thickly as he tried to tamp down the wish to run away as he had two summers ago. Running away from the knowledge that the man before him was not the man that he had thought he was. And yet now. Something kept him rooted to his spot as he stared into his Uncle's dark eyes. Reflecting the same deep black of his own.
No, he wasn't going to run anymore. Even if it killed him. He had faced much worse, his mind supplied. The rush of a bludger passing his head by mere centimeters, or the horrors in which this drasted school seemed to spit out each fucking year. Standing here looking his Uncle in the face as the silence hung in the air. He found himself not scared anymore. "I found his will. He was going to give you nothing." he spoke his tone breathless. Silence hung heavily as his Uncle's face twisted up between a look of pure anger and a veil of calm. He couldn't help but mildly wonder if the quill in his Uncle's hand would snap from the pressure. Percival could not help but feel similar to the quill. That he, too, would break underneath his Uncle's hands. "Maybe you should have some tea." His Uncle suddenly spoke again with more emphasis. Despite it being spoken like a question, it sounded more like a demand. "No, I don't want your tea! I know. I know you had something to do with his death." he snapped out in outrage. Why was he being so insistent on having him drink that stupid tea? he thought to himself as he glared at the man.
"I'd be careful if I were you. Accusations have more weight than you know." His uncle spoke firmly. As if each syllable was being tacked into place. "And so does guilt." he spoke without flinching as he watched his Uncle stand up behind his desk. "Pray, do tell what you are planning to do with such a revelation?" His uncle said a dangerous edge beneath the tone. The older man had made his way around the desk, edging closer to him. And yet, Percival stood in his spot as if he were rooted there. "I don't know yet." he admitted. "But I know I'm done pretending that I don't know what you are." Percival's brows furrowed as he watched his uncle's mouth twist into something between a smile and a sneer. He wasn't too sure what he had opened, but as he turned and left the study, he could not help but feel a sense of relief. Even as it hurt like flames lapping at his skin. Even as his Uncle called after him that he had better be careful.
End of Thread
"I doubt you'll remember me with a smile."
iNPC Mikael Halldorson