Necessary Deceit PV: Alan Vanes Finished

The third year stood up from his table and watched his plate disappear into thin air. He was not unfamiliar with this occurrence, having seen it so many times now, that he could not even guess the number if he tried to. He grew up with this, with house elves all around him, at least two of them could be found in the Vane's household. The second one had been employed only shortly after Alan had been born or so the Gryffindor was told, whether the other house elf must have been working for the family since ages. Shaking his head to get rid off the thoughts, he stepped away from the table and stretched his limbs slightly, saying bye to the few students that had felt like starting a conversation with the third year.

Soon enough he began to walk towards the exit of the hall, he would need to go and find Tiger to, who would probably be waiting in front of the Great Hall or maybe in the small hall for him. That was where he usually picked his cat up, once his chores were over. Sometimes he was sad, that he could not take Tiger with him into the Great Hall but he also understood why that would not be possible. Even at home his cat never was allowed into the kitchen and had to stay out during the times they were in the dining room. He chewed on his lip slightly, his eyes glancing over to one of the many portraits that were watching him, carry a piece of tenderly cooked chicken out of the Great Hall and Alan wondered whether that looked a little crazy. He had taken small bits of the chicken he had found on the table so that he would be able to give them to Tiger as piece offering for his day being so busy and him barely being able to spend time outside of the castle. Often when he did spend some time outside, Tiger would join him and nap on his lap or in the pocket of his robes or sweatshirt, while the Gryffindor studied for his class or did his homework.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and his head whipped around in surprise, calming slightly when he found himself face to face with what appeared to be another student. But then he recognized her and narrowed his eyes in thought, but it took only seconds before it clicked and dawned on him, why exactly she looked so familiar. "Y-You are the g-girl from the tea party!", he stated and his eyes widened slightly. How could he have forgotten for even a moment? Memories of that afternoon filled his mind, images of Ruka in pain flickered in front of his eyes as he stared at the girl, surprised that she would address him. "M-My name?", he wondered confused, before she shook his head to clear his thoughts quickly, giving her one of his casual, nervous smiles.

"I-I'm Alan... pl-pleasure to meet you", he introduced himself as he curiously glanced at the girl, at least he hoped it was. For a moment his sight lingered on the hand that she had placed onto his shoulders, wondering whether she would let go of it soon, as he forced himself to relax slightly. "U-Uh.... Wh-Who are you though? I-Is there a r-reason why y-you want to talk?", he wondered curiously, as he tilted his head ever so slightly, watching her carefully.

@Alan Vanes

Fading emotions, melting into one another like a gradient painting, would never be a sight that failed to immerse Persephone in its untouched wonder. The movements on the Gryffindor boy’s face, the narrowing and widening of his eyes for example, were fluid in quality, as if planned and animated by those who reigned above. Observing others as they registered her appearance and infamous history never grew old or unpleasing, each interaction so similar in structure yet beautifully different in detail, like music all tying into the same genre, but with individually unique lyrics giving each tune its own special flare of personality.

It hadn’t dawned on the blonde that his voice remained unheard to her until the stutter settled in, making itself known. Perhaps it was a result of anxiety, or a speech impediment, both unworthy of a callous remark. Shifting her focus with remarkable ease, her reply rather focused on the content of his phrases than their quality.

“‘Girl from the tea party’? Sounds kind of inhumane when you put it that way- hardly an object at all.” Her voice trailed away, mumbles following the taunt as if Persy’s mind lay comfortably in deep consideration. This was, of course, a sanctimonious remark taking into account her own habit of objectifying those around her, reducing them mentally to no more than a meat-bag with an admittedly complex thought process.

On a rare day, or hour would possibly be a better term, one of her peers would prove themselves by devoting themselves to a ritualistic queen born in corruption. However, on an even more infrequent one, that rise in stature would result from a personal action, one displaying the qualities the first-year oh so important in her equals. Cleverness, perhaps? The precise name for this quality would remain a constant riddle for the majority, as that knowledge provided them with an opportunity to feign it for their benefit.

Liars. Cowards.

“Hi Alan.” Although the response was simple, it was tainted with the snake’s typical frustration, that disguise slipping from its designated location in mere seconds. It was, however, recoverable regardless of its loose fit. “Persephone. Barret, if you must.” Persy’s heritage gleamed through her words, the unique accent accentuating her surname in a way only she was capable. “As for a reason… I’m just curious...” You’re a witness to one of my most nefarious crimes, what do you know? “...how well do you know Tân? I’m looking to… apologize?” Inwardly, she scolded herself for the tone, implying a question rather than a statement. Her stability was a valuable asset, one to be entirely maintained throughout. Which, of course, meant a dependable footing: vigilant words and attitude.

Although it wasn’t as blunt as often preferred by the snake, it would eventually curve to the information thoroughly required to proceed without an unnecessary hindrance.

If it hadn’t become abundantly clear through her usual methods, subtlety was not Persephone’s area of expertise. 

The third year halted slightly, when she pointed out how it had sounded kind of inhumane, that he called her the girl from the tea party and lightly shook his head; ready to speak an apology for having offended her with his wording. Ready to tell her that he had meant no harm or the like by calling her that, but that this simply had been an observation and a memory aid. "N-No, no that w-was not how I m-meant it at a-all!", he was quick to say, hoping she had not taken offense by the words he had uttered before. He had meant no harm, he never did!

He relaxed slightly, when she introduced herself. Some of the tension visibly leaving his body as his shoulders fell slightly and his eyes lit up slightly. He had a name now, that was something. That was something he could work with, if he would remember it. It did seem like quite a long name and the pronunciation seemed like it had to be said in a special way; at least the girl spoke with what seemed like an accent that would carry the meaning of the name across. A meaning that was unknown to the third year and he would have no idea how to write the name, if he had to ever send her and owl making him hope, that it would never get to a point where he had to send her an owl.

Apologize? Who would she want to apologize to? Tân? Who would that be? His eyes narrowed in confusion as he tried to re-call any of his recent interactions or anyone who had introduced themselves as Tân to him. But he failed to re-call anything, frowning at her, he shook his head apologetically. "I g-got to apologize, b-but the name s-sounds unfamiliar t-to me...", he muttered. He felt the urge to push some of the strands of hair away from his face, but his hands were holding pieces of boiled chicken and that would be mildly disgusting. He was looking forward to feed it to tiger and wash his hands.

He wondered if his cat was waiting for him as well, maybe he was. But Alan could also just imagine that the bengal cat was outside and just relaxing in the spring weather. It was unlikely though, he was a hungry cat and loved the treats that Alan brought him from the great hall. He wish he could sneak him inside, that had been so much easier while the bengal cat had been but a little kitten that could easily be hidden in the pocket of his school robes as he attended the meals. He could easily feed him some of the food like that, but then he started to grow and he grew fast.

@Alan Vanes

A gentle smirk crept upon her lips when the Gryffindor apologized, the words rushed as if to defend himself from an presumed oncoming attack. Although the will power required was hardly appreciated enough by the thinning crowd, still swarming with exhausted students eager to replenish in their common room, Persephone had repeatedly reminded herself that this lion was to eventually leave unharmed, only spoken to for the sake of intel unattainable from her spy. “Choose your words carefully, you never know which ones are the wrong ones.” Her voice was toned in mischief, as if a plot lie under his nose to teach him a lesson, regardless of her true intentions. Being gentle wasn’t one of her fortes, but an underlying instinct told her Alan was fragile, a glass ornament only around to remind of wealth or beauty. Neither of those did he do well, but attempts were always appreciated, as hers would hopefully be one upcoming day.

It wasn’t until Persy observed his shoulders fall once again, relieved of their nerves, that it became apparent his stutter wasn’t a work of anxiety, but more likely a consistent problem. Perhaps she overestimated the capabilities of her own universe, under the impression such flaws could be fixed with a spell or potion. Or, odd to someone like the blonde, but possible, Alan enjoyed his stutter. Reasons for that kind of attachment were all foreign, only a few personally probable causes rising to the surface of the murky water. Gain sympathy, maintain a state of stability in life. Really, they were endless, different justification for such a strange quirk. Or, magic just wasn’t that advanced.

It wasn’t something to dwell on, regardless.

"I g-got to apologize, b-but the name s-sounds unfamiliar t-to me..."

The light lodging in his eyes was washed over by apparent confusion, confusion incomprehensible to the snake. Did he, someone who presented so breakable, just lie to her? Beneath her stone face, the girl wanted to smack her own head, then his. For a regrettable moment, she’d fallen victim to someone’s persona unrelated to their own, for his bravery to tell a lie obviously counteracted the shy energy he gave away before. To be captured in such a trap was dangerous, terminal even, if the hunter held extensive knowledge.

But this, this didn’t require deep thought. She’d been lied to.

Breaking the tense air between them, Persy laughed a bit, her own facade of gentleness evaporating before his nature eyes, windows to the Earth that lie within. “Lying doesn’t get you anywhere with me. You stood right next to him, I saw you. You saw me. Want to try that again?”

The third year had no idea what to respond to all of this, what would she be hinting at. Of course he knew that wording and all that was important, but it also usually was not that much of a deal to Alan. Words could be explained and words had meaning, so he had no idea why it would be so drastically bad for him, if she took his words out of context and gave them other meaning? He shook his head lightly, not wanting to bother with thoughts that might end up giving him a headache or something.

When she called him a liar, he scrunched up his face lightly. Why would she call him a liar, if what he said had been the truth? Who had been standing next to him and about when was she even talking? She never actually clarified anything of what she meant and now she expected the Gryffindor to just know? He was really trying to figure out who she was talking about and what she meant, but it was hopeless. His head was full of thoughts, but none of those would be of help for either of them. "U-Uhm...", he hummed, not sure what to respond to such an accusation. "M-Maybe specify th-the situation? Wh-Who did I stay n-next to? Wh-when and Whe-where?", he asked, getting a bit frustrated with the situation. What did she want from him? Shouldn't she just go to that Tân guy, if she wanted to solve some issues with the child? He didn't like to be accused of lying and wished he would have told her, that accusing him of doing so, was quite rude.

He was staring right back at her. Less angry, more confused about the whole situation and how he had stumbled into it. He had just planned to leave the Great Hall and now he was in this mess with this girl who was accusing him of things and why? Alan had no idea why, which was why he was so confused in the first place!

@Alan Vanes

It could’ve been impressive, had it not been directed at Persephone. If his familiar eyes were locked with another’s, that guilt melting over him and that stutter warranting sympathy where none could be obtained, the blonde may have grinned in his direction, justifying that which is frowned upon. The truth that so many were blind to, was that nobody wanted to be told a lie, one that obstructed their path especially, but wanted to tell so many untruths in the process. People were natural-born hypocrites, an instinct embedded in their soul similar to the need to breathe. Including Persy, everyone walking among the dying planet was a hypocrite in some deplorable fashion, but the Slytherin excused herself from the worst of them. Those who lied. Deceit was one thing, a facade necessary to the completion of a task, but to verbally lead another person on was shameful, nothing less. Upon dwelling on this further, it was a tad sanctimonious to approve of behaviors as long as they didn’t affect you. But may death come upon her if she ever told an unnecessary lie, postponing the inevitable. Death wouldn’t be a remarkable punishment anyway.

Alan naively insisted on clinging to this act, a transparent mask to a coward somehow sorted into the stereotypical house of the brave. This school and its respective houses and archetypes were composed of ignorance and opaque trains of thought. The founders dehumanized their students upon reducing them to nothing more than smart, stupid, nice, or cruel. Each individual sorted in the house of the green and silver defied these, with the saddening exception of those traditionalists who only saw the surface of the sea. Persephone couldn’t speak for the others, the majority if you will, because all of them were unreal to her. What was true and unarguable stood in front, a falter invisible.

Alan may have been real.

“Specify the situation?” She echoed, eyebrows perked in thorough disbelief. “You don’t remember the last time you and I were within the vicinity of each other? Do I need to remind you?” Her pale knuckles tapped on her head as if to mimic the headache given that uncomfortable afternoon. It seemed to the snake that many of her peers were under the impression that Persephone was some sort of sociopath, void of reason and logic, making up for what she lacked through violent habits. From a different angle, the truth was the opposite.

His eyes never left hers, the two entranced in the thoughts of the other in a labyrinth. Perhaps referring to the lion as a coward had been premature, his heart instead formed of bravery so empty it was easily taken as poignant stupidity. The Slytherin girl smiled, eyes twinkling with the stars stolen from the sky, as if to further his noticeable unease. Getting information out of a nameless face had never felt so paradoxical. 

Calming Presence
@Persephone Barret

Alan sighed in defeat at the question, the puzzle pieces of confusion falling into place. "Y-You might have s-seen me somewhere o-or something; h-how was I s-supposed to know y-you meant the t-tea party?", he explained with a light shrug. But now that he knew what situation she meant, he frowned in thought. He had been right next to-

"Oh y-you mean Ruka!", he exclaimed suddenly and glanced back at the girl, a smile appearing on his face now. "Y-You want to apologize t-to him?", he questioned her curiously. Memories of what she did to the second year filled his thoughts and he cringed slightly, the sound of Ruka's forehead hitting the thick table resonating in his mind like a broken recorder. He wondered what had made her do this in the first place, but he agreed that she needed to apologize to his the second year who had not deserved her aggression in any way. Was she going to apologize to the other kids she had hurt as well? None of the injuries she had caused that day seemed to be justified and it was not okay in Alan's eyes. Maybe he should mention it to Ruka? It was up to the lion to decide whether he would want to hear an apology from this girl. She had hurt him badly after all...

Alan was kind of confused about why she would be going to him about it in the first place. Wouldn't it make more sense, if she would go to Ruka directly, if she wanted to apologize? Why go through the troubles of asking someone who she did not knew at all, assuming he had some kind of connection to the person she wanted to apologize to? It reminded him a bit of the situation with Jack, but Alan quickly shook his head, trying to get rid off the thoughts. He did not want to think about that now.

@Alan Vanes

Verbally criticizing him would only increase the unease he wore, her inner monologue of critical comments ablaze with a frustrated flame. Analyzing that burden in Alan’s eyes was comparable to being able to physically see the rusted gears as they reluctantly turned on their axis, a toddler differentiating between squares and rectangles. What once resembled a valuable asset had slowly morphed into an inadequate conversation, the partner in this discussion, at best description, a shape-shifting toddler. It was made apparent within these last few moments that memory was not his ally either, nor was common wit, a rather pitiable inconvenience for one to possess. Persephone racked her brain from wall to wall, thought to thought, trying to make illogical sense of his rationality; the impression she’d left was quite obviously not sufficient if he believed their paths could cross without an explosive wreck.

Was he not intimidated by her aura, by her mere title in itself, speaking words that were never required to pass through forbidden lips? It was old news that the incessant stutter was the likely result of a speech impediment of sorts, not created or enhanced by the fear of god she would strike in him, the anxiety that was believed to have already resided in that pointless soul. This was unfathomable, something the girl could’ve never predicted through body language as she did with so many others.

But the way he spoke to her. Beyond the stutter, the content of his words. Not tainted. Not contaminated. Pure. Real.

Ruka. The name did not immediately spark a match of a cruel or suppressed memory, but the face could be tied to the nameless that lingered in the corridors, with no true purpose or inducing phrase from the conversationalist before her. For the briefest of moments, the blonde forgot why her interest in the small victim was so impenetrable, confusedly differing from the reason that surrounded it, vultures. It rushed back moments later, a tsunami of remembrance, how valuable the victim was. Few times in life did Persephone need someone. Ruka was a necessity. A pawn, that which everyone around seemed to be.

“Yes, I want to apologize to him. Did I stutter? Wait, no I didn’t, you did.” Her tone was rather aggressive, more so than the useful conscious had deemed appropriate. An insult that appeared a barbaric cruelty became something that dyed the ocean its own shade of grey, perhaps one Persy hadn’t witnessed before, the birth of a new color.

Another fact, banished with all of the strength one eleven year old girl could channel, arrived in thought once again. She wanted to apologize to Tân, not cause further agony and replenish that which had been stolen in uncomfortable minutes. The spy, hired but not without conditions of her own, had requested such a diminishing task, one that could not be betrayed regardless of animalistic, violent instinct. That pair of eyes on the inside was what would compose the endgame of all these tedious tasks, irreplaceable.

A hesitant breath fell free with a gentle shake of her head. “That was a tad uncalled for on my end, sure. But don’t be stupid, Alan. You're good at it, so that must be hard to ask.”

The third year was not entirely sure what to think about this girl. She had hurt a dear friend of his and he would have questioned it more if she did not seem so completely different from that day, if it had not been around a month ago. But here she stood, asking him for information about the very person she had hurt for no reason. He ignored the annotation about him not being smart. He simply wrinkled his nose in reaction to her words and maybe they should have hurt him more than they actually did, but he was more relieved that he finally understood what all of this was about. She was the second person to call him out on his stutter and again this would be another resemblance the girl would have with Jack, one that left a bitter note. If he was bothered by it, she would not have been able to point it out, which meant that it in fact did not affected him as much as the girl probably had intended to.

Even though they had pushed past the point of confusion, he was sure that there were more questions he had, before he could know that she would not just go and hurt Ruka again. "Wh-Why did you h-hurt him i-i-in the first p-place? H-He had d-done nothing that c-could have p-provoked such an a-a-action!", he asked, stating his words in calm confusion. His eyes searching her face for answers, as if he was examining a creature for posture and gesture; searching an answer in her eyes.

"I c-could go a-and t-tell him a-about this, it is u-up to him whether h-he wants to t-talk to y-you about wh-what happened...", he offered lastly, tilting his head slightly, his eyes never leaving her and if, they found sight of her soon again. He had the desire to cross his arms defensively throughout their whole conversation, but the pieces of chicken he was carrying in his hands would dirty his robes and he couldn't have that. The food was even cold already and he was sure Tiger was getting hungry.