21 Dec 2019, 03:43
Weeping Willow
Oliver clutched the letter, stalking the empty corridors furiously. He was crying silently, his lips crumpled up in a curdled frown.
The letter read, in his mother's messy scrawl:
The owls had come through for mail, delivering presents and packages of varying size, letters and tiny parcels of snacks. His father's big brown owl had come through, to Oliver's surprise. The owl, Abbo, hooted. It nearly sunk its claws into his oatmeal, fluttering its giant wings. Oliver untied the letter from Abbo's leg, fed him a bit of stray bacon, before sending the creature on its way.
Oliver unfurled the letter, having ripped it open to read it at the table. He had scanned the contents of the letter, before getting up from Slytherin's table and taking off like a shot, forgetting his book. There would be nothing more humiliating than crying in the public dining hall.
He swung into the abandoned bathrooms, his sneakers squeaking on the unclean floor as he wandered forward, rubbing his face furiously with his free hand. The letter was crumpled in his sweaty hand. Oliver took a look at it, throwing it down at the dusty ground with a sudden streak of anger. The drip drip drip of leaky faucets only served to further enrage him, but it went out quickly with a gust of grief. His family had had Eddie for a long time, since she was a tiny mewling thing, orphaned in a gutter. Oliver had been a baby when his father rescued a kitten and brought her home, so they had grown up together. And now she was dead. The bathroom door slammed shut with such force as Oliver tucked himself inside one of the stalls, hiding himself away so he could sob pathetically into his hands.
The letter read, in his mother's messy scrawl:
He had been at breakfast, hunched over a book about dark magicks through the ages. Oliver had been enjoying the clutter of students chattering and the smell of food; he had been picking his way through oatmeal and a bowl of strawberries, though he was clearly uninterested in food.Oliver,
It really sucks that I have to write this over letter. If I had it my way, I'd have you brought back to Canterbury for a few days to see her grave. Eddie cat died. I don't know when you'll get this letter, but by the time I attach it to the owl's leg, it's been about a few hours now. She was old, that tabby thing, and she died suddenly of kidney failure. She was acting sluggish on Monday, was sick everywhere on Wednesday, and she was gone by Thursday. I'm really sorry I have to tell you like this. I can't even call you. Good news is that the other cats are doing well, but they seem a tad lonely. Keep your chin up, Ollie. Don't let what happened knock you off your course.
- Mom
The owls had come through for mail, delivering presents and packages of varying size, letters and tiny parcels of snacks. His father's big brown owl had come through, to Oliver's surprise. The owl, Abbo, hooted. It nearly sunk its claws into his oatmeal, fluttering its giant wings. Oliver untied the letter from Abbo's leg, fed him a bit of stray bacon, before sending the creature on its way.
Oliver unfurled the letter, having ripped it open to read it at the table. He had scanned the contents of the letter, before getting up from Slytherin's table and taking off like a shot, forgetting his book. There would be nothing more humiliating than crying in the public dining hall.
He swung into the abandoned bathrooms, his sneakers squeaking on the unclean floor as he wandered forward, rubbing his face furiously with his free hand. The letter was crumpled in his sweaty hand. Oliver took a look at it, throwing it down at the dusty ground with a sudden streak of anger. The drip drip drip of leaky faucets only served to further enrage him, but it went out quickly with a gust of grief. His family had had Eddie for a long time, since she was a tiny mewling thing, orphaned in a gutter. Oliver had been a baby when his father rescued a kitten and brought her home, so they had grown up together. And now she was dead. The bathroom door slammed shut with such force as Oliver tucked himself inside one of the stalls, hiding himself away so he could sob pathetically into his hands.
Last edited by Oliver Averill on 21 Dec 2019, 23:47, edited 1 time in total.
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21 Dec 2019, 10:42
Weeping Willow
@Stella Dawson & @Oliver Averill
When the redhead saw one of his dormmates drop everything and flee the breakfast table upon reading a letter, he knew something was up. Jack liked to keep tabs on his fellow housemates, particularly the other boys in his dormitory, and Oliver had been the first he'd met. He knew the boy was sensitive and enjoyed teasing him a great deal because of it. However, he was very careful not to cross a certain line and gave the brunet his space when he needed it. That included allowing Oliver to eat his breakfast away from Jack.
Eating away from the brunet didn't mean he couldn't keep an eye on him, though. Hazel eyes dropped to the book that had been abandoned in its owner's wake. Brows furrowing in mild concern, Jack carefully extricated himself from his own seat at the table to go fetch his dormmate's book. Picking it up, he stared through it as he pondered what might have caused Oliver to behave as he had. It could have been as much a positive thing as it may have been negative, but Jack had a bad feeling.
Taking the book with him, he slowly walked over to the Hufflepuff table, scanning its seats for a familiar head of ginger hair longer than his own. He strongly disliked the notion of asking the girl for help, but he couldn't think of what else to do. Jack couldn't imagine that he or any of the other Slytherins he'd met so far would have been as eager or as well-suited to be there for Oliver if he needed it, especially if they hadn't met him before. And, since Jack knew Oliver tended to keep to himself, most probably hadn't; not even within his own house.
At last he found her - Stella Dawson. Walking swiftly up to her, he tapped her on the shoulder and leaned over to whisper urgently near her ear.
"Badger, I need your help," he muttered, barely managing to push the words out between his gritted teeth. "One of my dormmates just ran out of the hall without a word. You know that name I gave you before? That's the one. He even left behind his book and he never does that. I'm thinking something bad might have happened, but if it did, I figure the last person he'd want to be around is me."
Holding up the book Oliver had left, he continued, "If you do this for me, I'll owe you a favor, and I always repay my favors. It's - it's not like I care about him or anything; he's just kind of an emotional brat and since I share a dorm with him, I don't need him sulking and bringing down mood of our living space," Jack was quick to supply. Then his tone softened.
"I'm not sure where he might have gone...but if something were wrong, I know the place I'd go to first would be the abandoned toilets." He was fairly certain Oliver was familiar with them, too, as their first meeting had been right outside those very toilets.
"Be...be gentle with him," he added finally. "He's very sensitive and quick to get defensive at the flip of a coin. I'll bring this back to our dorms and check to see if he's there or if he'll come there eventually. If Averill is in those toilets, though...well, I'll leave him to you."
Straightening up, he turned to promptly leave the Great Hall so as not to waste another moment, trusting Stella to do what he was sure she did best - be kind.
When the redhead saw one of his dormmates drop everything and flee the breakfast table upon reading a letter, he knew something was up. Jack liked to keep tabs on his fellow housemates, particularly the other boys in his dormitory, and Oliver had been the first he'd met. He knew the boy was sensitive and enjoyed teasing him a great deal because of it. However, he was very careful not to cross a certain line and gave the brunet his space when he needed it. That included allowing Oliver to eat his breakfast away from Jack.
Eating away from the brunet didn't mean he couldn't keep an eye on him, though. Hazel eyes dropped to the book that had been abandoned in its owner's wake. Brows furrowing in mild concern, Jack carefully extricated himself from his own seat at the table to go fetch his dormmate's book. Picking it up, he stared through it as he pondered what might have caused Oliver to behave as he had. It could have been as much a positive thing as it may have been negative, but Jack had a bad feeling.
Taking the book with him, he slowly walked over to the Hufflepuff table, scanning its seats for a familiar head of ginger hair longer than his own. He strongly disliked the notion of asking the girl for help, but he couldn't think of what else to do. Jack couldn't imagine that he or any of the other Slytherins he'd met so far would have been as eager or as well-suited to be there for Oliver if he needed it, especially if they hadn't met him before. And, since Jack knew Oliver tended to keep to himself, most probably hadn't; not even within his own house.
At last he found her - Stella Dawson. Walking swiftly up to her, he tapped her on the shoulder and leaned over to whisper urgently near her ear.
"Badger, I need your help," he muttered, barely managing to push the words out between his gritted teeth. "One of my dormmates just ran out of the hall without a word. You know that name I gave you before? That's the one. He even left behind his book and he never does that. I'm thinking something bad might have happened, but if it did, I figure the last person he'd want to be around is me."
Holding up the book Oliver had left, he continued, "If you do this for me, I'll owe you a favor, and I always repay my favors. It's - it's not like I care about him or anything; he's just kind of an emotional brat and since I share a dorm with him, I don't need him sulking and bringing down mood of our living space," Jack was quick to supply. Then his tone softened.
"I'm not sure where he might have gone...but if something were wrong, I know the place I'd go to first would be the abandoned toilets." He was fairly certain Oliver was familiar with them, too, as their first meeting had been right outside those very toilets.
"Be...be gentle with him," he added finally. "He's very sensitive and quick to get defensive at the flip of a coin. I'll bring this back to our dorms and check to see if he's there or if he'll come there eventually. If Averill is in those toilets, though...well, I'll leave him to you."
Straightening up, he turned to promptly leave the Great Hall so as not to waste another moment, trusting Stella to do what he was sure she did best - be kind.
PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori
21 Dec 2019, 11:40
Weeping Willow
The last thing Stella expected was to be confronted by Jack Burnett in the middle of the Great Hall, but it happened. And, surprisingly, Jack was asking her to help that Averill fellow whom he'd previously mentioned to her when they had last met--Oliver, was it?
Well, what did you know? Jack Burnett did have a heart! Or, at least, he cared! And, he would owe her! Stella already had a plan hatching for how he would pay her back by the time he informed her to be gentle, giving a city nod and grinning at the other ginger.
"As if I would be anythin' but! " She replied, smiling at him before standing up and walking briskly out of the Great Hall on her mission to the abandoned toilets.
When she entered, Stella could immediately pick out the quiet sounds of muffled sobbing and frowned at this. Jack had been right. something had upset the other Slytherin boy. Cautiously stepping in quietly so as not to startle the boy, Stella carefully walked along the stalls until she found the stall Oliver had gone to. Biting her lip nervously, Stella gently rapped on the stall door.
"Are you alright in there?" She called, concern in her voice. " I was asked to check up on you by one of your dorm mates. They seemed a bit worried about you. "
"Badger, I need your help," he muttered, barely managing to push the words out between his gritted teeth. "One of my dormmates just ran out of the hall without a word. You know that name I gave you before? That's the one. He even left behind his book and he never does that. I'm thinking something bad might have happened, but if it did, I figure the last person he'd want to be around is me."
Holding up the book Oliver had left, he continued, "If you do this for me, I'll owe you a favor, and I always repay my favors. It's - it's not like I care about him or anything; he's just kind of an emotional brat and since I share a dorm with him, I don't need him sulking and bringing down mood of our living space," Jack was quick to supply. Then his tone softened.
"I'm not sure where he might have gone...but if something were wrong, I know the place I'd go to first would be the abandoned toilets." He was fairly certain Oliver was familiar with them, too, as their first meeting had been right outside those very toilets.
"Be...be gentle with him," he added finally. "He's very sensitive and quick to get defensive at the flip of a coin. I'll bring this back to our dorms and check to see if he's there or if he'll come there eventually. If Averill is in those toilets, though...well, I'll leave him to you."
Well, what did you know? Jack Burnett did have a heart! Or, at least, he cared! And, he would owe her! Stella already had a plan hatching for how he would pay her back by the time he informed her to be gentle, giving a city nod and grinning at the other ginger.
"As if I would be anythin' but! " She replied, smiling at him before standing up and walking briskly out of the Great Hall on her mission to the abandoned toilets.
When she entered, Stella could immediately pick out the quiet sounds of muffled sobbing and frowned at this. Jack had been right. something had upset the other Slytherin boy. Cautiously stepping in quietly so as not to startle the boy, Stella carefully walked along the stalls until she found the stall Oliver had gone to. Biting her lip nervously, Stella gently rapped on the stall door.
"Are you alright in there?" She called, concern in her voice. " I was asked to check up on you by one of your dorm mates. They seemed a bit worried about you. "
You will be found~ Deh
Stella Dawson
21 Dec 2019, 23:47
Weeping Willow
Oliver had been perfectly okay keeping to himself so he could cry unbothered, so hearing a voice slip past his weeping startled him. He paused, snuffling weakly- he did not recognize the voice emanating from outside the bathroom stall. Oliver stiffened, trying to smother his mouth with his sleeves. He tried to speak, to send the girl away, but his throat cinched shut and he made a choking noise. Oliver winced, drawing up all of his muscles into a tight wrap of embarrassment. And- wait a moment. What did the girl just say?
"Who- er...- who sent you?"
His voice fluttered unnaturally with grief, clearly indicating he had been crying hard. Oliver did not open the bathroom stall door, for the moment he was trying to clean his face up. He wiped his nose on the tissues he carried on his person, trying to wipe his tears as quickly as possible. Oliver stuffed the letter into his back pocket, trying to settle himself before he could face the girl outside.
"Listen, uh-," Oliver cleared his throat roughly, trying to sound less like he had just been crying. He wished he knew a charm to summon a mirror, for he knew he looked like a giant mess. When Oliver cried, his cheeks flushed a patchy pink, his eyelids tended to swell, his eyelids matted something fierce. His trip to the abandoned bathroom was an impulsive act, so he didn't know how he'd make it back to fetch his book without looking like a blotchy red amalgamation.
"Who- er...- who sent you?"
His voice fluttered unnaturally with grief, clearly indicating he had been crying hard. Oliver did not open the bathroom stall door, for the moment he was trying to clean his face up. He wiped his nose on the tissues he carried on his person, trying to wipe his tears as quickly as possible. Oliver stuffed the letter into his back pocket, trying to settle himself before he could face the girl outside.
"Listen, uh-," Oliver cleared his throat roughly, trying to sound less like he had just been crying. He wished he knew a charm to summon a mirror, for he knew he looked like a giant mess. When Oliver cried, his cheeks flushed a patchy pink, his eyelids tended to swell, his eyelids matted something fierce. His trip to the abandoned bathroom was an impulsive act, so he didn't know how he'd make it back to fetch his book without looking like a blotchy red amalgamation.
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2 Jan 2020, 14:49
Weeping Willow
"Jack Burnett.." Stella rocked on her heels a little as she said this, biting her lip and looking around. "He asked my help in seeing if you were alright. I'm not sure he trusted himself to.." She laughed a little, hoping to ease the tension in the air a bit. She wouldn't doubt if this 'Oliver' and Jack didn't have a very good past-- if Jack sent her, how could Oliver trust that she was nice? Hopefully he wouldn't judge her to act like Jack, seeing as Stella felt the redheaded Slytherin boy was rather her polar opposite. The two of them had nothing in common, other than the fact that they were both gingers. But Stella wasn't about to give up on Jack so easily. And she wasn't about to let her doubt keep her from helping Oliver.Interacting with @Oliver Averill
"I mean.. He didn't feel that he was the right person fit to come see if you were okay. So he sort of.. recruited me, I guess. We're rather opposite people, so he came to me and asked me to follow you." She cleared her throat, rocking on her heels. "It's probably because I'm a Hufflepuff and easily the kindest person Jack's ever encountered at Hogwarts..Not to toot my own horn or anythin'." She was rambling. She was totally rambling. Flushing, she stopped rocking and shook her head. "Sorry I don't mean to ramble on so much. I'm just trying to appeal to you, I guess. You haven't even seen my face, and I'm trying to get you to trust me enough to let me help you.. It's my first situation like this, you see. And I really would like to help you, if you'd let me.." She bit her lip, trying to think of what she could do to appeal more to Oliver. An introduction's always nice, eh? But he's still in the stall.. Oh, whatever. She'll never get anywhere if she doesn't first appeal to Oliver enough for her to be able to help him.
"I'm Stella, by the way."
You will be found~ Deh
Stella Dawson