What's Your Damage? PV Howard Closed

Perfect was hardly the word Howard would use to describe the day. It wasn’t that the heat was so unbearable that was souring his mood, but more that there was very little cloud cover. It forced the teenaged Dhampir underneath the long, black cloak that was stifling in the summer weather, but crucial in the protection of the boy’s delicate skin. So there he sat in the dining area, stewing away as long nails picked bits of meat off his plate before shoving them in his mouth. Who’s lousy idea was it to come so far south anyways?

The weather wasn’t the only thing that was tearing down the boys spirit. In fact, the summer event had actually started out quite nice. Howard had reconnected with an old friend at the Barbecue and had a great time at the Stargazing event, but every day that passed drew him closer and closer towards dread. Not even the prospect of attending the Quidditch match the next day was enough to shake him from the thought of going home and he still had no idea how to avoid it. The thought stayed with him constantly and as the days passed it dug further into his psyche. It picked away at his demeanor, often leaving him with a resting bitch face that could challenge the stars of those Muggle television shows. Try as he might, Howard couldn’t think of any way to stop what seemed so inevitable.

BANG!

The Dhampir slammed his fist down onto his plate. A slightly less dramatic performance than the one he had given in the Great Hall, but the effect was similar as bits of cured meat flung through the air. With a swipe of his hand the plate would fly from the table before Howard’s head fell into his palms. That’s when he would sense the disturbance as his sensitive ears picked up on footsteps coming from his rear. Probably some do-gooder Prefect marching their way over to tell him off for his actions. Let them! Howard thought you himself. Like a pressure cooker left on the heat too long, the anger was brewing up in his belly. Just a flick of the switch would be all it took.

A hand would clamp down on his shoulder. An action that would give Howard a moment of pause as few had the stones to approach him so directly, but it would do nothing to quell the rage that ravaged its way through his guts. His head would snap to the side as a single red eye peered over his shoulder to meet with the deep brown of those that intruded upon him. The Dhampir would allow his words to roll over him before deciding to act. Something about school before the tone turn mocking. Howard drew a long steady breath through his nose as the other boy continued on about hiding something and unlearnt knowledge, but the words barely registered.

“What you need to know...” Howard’s words were spoken softly before a frenzy of action unleashed. He rapidly spun in his seat before rising to stand before the other. With a quick swipe to the side, he would attempt to smash his forearm into the intruder’s elbow to remove his grasp. Whether Howard was successful or not he would reach out to grab the fabric of the boy’s ridiculous clothing. “Is that if you ever touch me again, I’ll rip out your fucking throat!” His voice rose with every word as the unsettling aura seeped out of his pores like a noxious gas. Long slender fangs would plunge through the empty gaps where normal human canines should be. “You have two seconds to explain yourself, boy! Go!”

@Rafael D'Spacito

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Interacting With: @Howard White
Mentioning: N/A
Hex Color: #800000

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A deep breath, and a soft-spoken statement – signs of patience, compliance even, behaviors that elicited a feeling of superiority within the chest of the young Captain. However, Rafael couldn’t have been prepared for the hell that befell his presence next.

The reaction was almost instantaneous, the face of the Hufflepuff morphing from tolerance to pure rage in less time than Rafael could interpret – the senior, once leaning over his food with his head in his hands, had shot out of his seat in what seemed like only a moment, his form hulking over the second year in an ominous foreshadowing of imminent and painful destruction as his arm smashed into the Captain’s elbow, pain threading through his limb as his mind scrambled to catch up with the turn of events. The rug, to put it poetically, had been pulled right out from under the feet of the boy more acutely than it had ever been before in such little time, and in the span of mere moment, Rafael had lost all sense of power, his ego smothered under what felt like tons of liquid mercury, the unshakeable chill of pure fear sending all his hairs on end as his eyes widened with the fear he felt. “Wh – “ was all he could stutter, his thoughts scrambled, limbs tight as his gaze turned towards the boy’s mouth. Long slender fangs sprouted from his palate. Jesus Christ. The front of his shirt clutched in the firm hands of his aggressor, there was nothing the Captain could do but glower in what could only be described as fear, a bout of sweat beginning to form at the base of his neck, a glistening sheen invisible to the naked eye but growing increasingly uncomfortable to the horrified boy. It was obvious that he’d made a massive mistake. It was the first time, after all, that he’d found himself utterly outmatched.

“You have two seconds to explain yourself, boy! Go!”

There was a short moment in which the boy inwardly jolted at the words, his tongue curving and vocal cords readying themselves for a swift answer. No, he didn’t want to anger this guy any more than he already had. He needed to free himself. No – he needed to run. Make sure this guy never saw him again. There was something purely terrifying about the senior’s… unusually unsettling presence, a sort of aura that provoked fear in its rawest form out of the deepest darkest pits of the Captain’s soul and out into the open air. A feeling… oddly familiar, actually, if not on a bigger scale, a feeling irrational on all levels, an artificial aura created by his own hyperactive imagination, or at least in his own mind. Rafael wasn’t fearless, and he was enough of a man to be able to admit that. However, with this revelation, came a new and liberating train of thought – the fear, once ridding the eyes of the Captain, now morphed into a sort of rushed curiosity, his strong gaze searching the face of his aggressor once more as to search for clues to this new theory. Surely enough, the boy in front of him still held a terrifying countenance – paler, yes, and fanged, but were these truly fearsome traits? Keeping in mind that he had killed two mosps with his bare hands, surely not. This Hufflepuff posed a threat, but it was a threat he was willing to take on if it meant answers. The Captain would force his fear back down into the recesses of his chest in that, the feeling an afterthought ever-present at the back of his mind but far enough as to not cause him grief. It was time to take that in which he sought.

He was about to do something pretty fucking stupid.

Any remnants of negative emotion was abruptly dismissed from the Captain’s face as he looked up at his aggressor, a wide grin spreading across his face as if he’d found great amusement in pissing off the older student. Then, with a short snicker, he would shrug, his words smooth as they rolled off his tongue – “Boy?” he scoffed, almost disdainfully as he raised an eyebrow to the older year. Then, shaking his head, his eyes shutting as if he simply couldn’t believe he was putting up with such annoying circumstance, “If you’re going to bite me, motherfucker, you’d better hurry it up.” His gaze turned hard in that moment, a sneer spreading across his face as he focused every ounce of anger he could muster in his words. Surely not enough to match the truly unsettling air about the boy in front of him, but at least enough to show his aggressor that he was not screwing around, maybe even enough to instill a sense of danger himself. He was not going to be a victim – not without a fight, at least. “You wanna to start shit with me, Hufflepuff? You’d better fucking think that one through. I woke up this morning hoping a motherfucker would.”

Taking another quick glance at the boy’s form would confirm all he needed to know about his opponent’s strength – Rafael was most likely outmatched in brawn, but perhaps physics would come to his rescue. Mentally steeling himself for the next few moments, he would take a quick moment to thread his arm around the strong grip of the dhampir, distributing his weight as to force the hand off of his shirt… or, at least, attempt to. Whether it would work or not, wouldn’t matter – following this defensive move, he would short execute a brash offensive one, taking both hands and shoving them into the chest of the other boy. A method of provocation. With luck, he would surprise the guy, instill anger. If he was going to fight outmatched, he wanted a scene – there were more ways then one to win a fight.

@Rafael D'Spacito

Typical. Howard had seen it many times in his short life, even before the transformation. People would come along and give him a poke. The why never really seemed to matter, but it would unleash the anger that simmered in his belly, ready to boil over at any moment. Howard would shout and yell, threaten them with physical violence and like a scared puppy they would cower or flee. So few had the gall to stand up for themselves or to fight back. That is what he saw in the younger boys eyes as fear flashed through the dark brown orbs. His heightened sense of smell and touch would pick up on the quickened heart rate and the forming of perspiration. How boring...but the transgression could not be forgiven. Squash him like an annoying fly and get on with the day. Or so he thought.

Just before Howard’s fist curled into a ball something changed in the younger boy’s gaze. A flash of mania perhaps that would stay the Dhampir’s hand as his contorted expression of rage softened into a quizzical look. It was a newly found train of thought for Howard. The older he got, the easier it was to control his emotions. Even a year before his fists would have started flying before he even had a chance to think. However, there was a look in the other boy’s eye that plucked a string of curiosity within him. With a deep breath he would push the rage down like corking a bottle, still ready at a moments notice, but allowing a sense of mental clarity.

A wicked smile would splash across the face of his transgressor before he began to speak. Perhaps there was more to this boy than meets the eye. Let’s find out. “Bite you?” Howard would offer a sinister chuckle of his own. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’d rather feed off a rat.” The insult offered as another test of his opponents will. “Ohh...big words.” The tone mocking. “Got any bite, motherfucker!” Howard nearly spat the last as he repeated the other’s swear.

The Dhampir’s blood red eyes would fall to his arm as the other boy made his move. There was strength there, but not enough to match that of Howard’s. However the other boy twisted in a way that would force him to release his grasp. He could have recovered and even perhaps countered the boy’s next blow, but he would not. The slightest of grins would come to Howard’s lips as he allowed the impact to hit him fully in the chest causing him a step back with his right leg to prevent losing balance. His fists would raise before him in a sign that he was more than willing to continue the fight, but he would not make any further moves. If the other boy did not immediately continue his offensive, Howard would take the moment to scan the scene around them. The crowd of students had started to take notice as curious and worried eyes alike began to fall upon them.

“Well played, boy.” Howard would not shy away from further insulting him as a test to his restraint. “But if you think I’m scared of getting in trouble, you’ve picked your opponent poorly. So what’ll it be? Wanna have a go? Or...” The facial muscles around the Dhampir’s mouth would flex to retract the fangs back into his gum line as the unsettling aura dissipated. “Shall we get to know each other a little better?”

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Interacting With: @Howard White
Mentioning: TBD
Hex Color: #800000

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Tensions were high, fists were raised. The proverbial stage had been set for a fight, and quite the calamitous one at that – it was, in hindsight, an ill-conceived assortment of decisions on the Captain’s part that had marooned him in such a sticky situation, the likes of which would cause him a great deal of trouble and pain in the course of the next few moments. Of course, Rafael was no stranger to calamity. The consciousness of no man could be left untouched after a school year at Hogwarts, anyways – hell, he’d killed two vampyr mosps with his bare hands! Why couldn’t he take a dhampir on in a fight? Another one, the boy thought with a grimace as a sliver of reminiscence riddled his mind. His first encounter with the special race hadn’t been… well, in his defense, the circumstances leading to the attack had been different. However, given that no one was bleeding yet, the Gryffindor would simply have to assume a temporary sense of safety, his only solace being the subconscious acknowledgement of the amassing crowd that would stand witness to his impending doom. Perhaps it would be best to think positive thoughts, he wryly assured himself. He, after all, had a sliver a of a chance in succeeding defensively. If only he could somehow outmaneuver the visually obvious strength, slender white fangs, absolutely horrifying aura…

Okay, Rafael took it back again. He was sorely outmatched.

Being the arrogant soul he was, however, such a revelation could do nothing to pop his over-inflated ego. He might be a dead man, but at least he would die legendarily – because Rafael would be damned if he ran from a fight. Running, after all, was for Slytherin cowards, and he would give no one any excuse to call him one. Gryffindor had long since lost its pride to Potter’s supposed homicidal tendencies, so who was he to add any salt to the wound? The punch would come, the boy knew it would, but regardless, there would be no wavering in the ferocity of his gaze, no doubt in the maliciousness of his grin. He was here for a brawl, if his opponent would have it, and there would be no sign of otherwise, save for the steady sheen of sweat on his neck, subtle reek of fear in his glands. Eyes glued upon his opponent, the Gryffindor would lean forward, fists balled up and face contorted in a dangerous grimace as he chuckled lightly, bouncily, almost mockingly, beckoning for the offensive. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid. And really, he’d been expecting pain, a quick advance from his opposite, the cold kiss of a fist against his face, any sign or semblance of an attack. Anything at all.

Nothing.

A shift of weight and the bearing of fists was all that would follow the Gryffindor’s challenge, but no attack came – a decision made by the other that sorely confused the Gryffindor. Once wearing a dangerous grin on his mug and a mad look in his gaze, the Captain’s face would soon sport a new décor, a fickle creature called befuddlement, a hint of animosity, an air of caution. …what? The boy’s eyes would train on those of his opposite, a small, wondering shake of the head following, before his eyes would track the gaze of the dhampir. The crowd. It would seem as if his ill-timed intrusion had gained many a wandering eye, and in good time too – perhaps it was the onlookers that had ultimately spared him from immediate misery. A thankful gift from the universe, the strange force taking a break from its typical antics and blessing the boy with a bout of mercy. One he would take full advantage of.

“Well played, boy.”

The word sounded like poison to the ears of the Gryffindor, and for a moment, Rafael couldn’t help but grimace sourly, his mouth forming a deep scowl as sharp brown eyes drilled into the Hufflepuff across from him. “Boy?” he spat in utter distaste. Those were fighting words…. but in the hopes of maintaining his newfound luck, perhaps he should opt to choose his battles this time, rather than damn himself to the fists of the senior. A bitter snicker would instead escape the lips of the Gryffindor at the indication that he should ‘get to know the other better’, and for a moment, his gaze would grow haughty, his chin jutting out as he drew himself up, his arms crossed tightly. “That mean you have an answer for me?” he would shoot back antagonistically... though he was intrigued, he would be lying if he said otherwise. Who was this Hufflepuff? It would be in his best interests to find out. Taking a deep breath, a wry look upon his face, he would face the dhampir with a nonchalant shrug, before extending some semblance of an introduction, his hands slipping into his pockets as he spoke smoothly. “I’m Rafael. Second Year, Gryffindor.” It was merely a statement, not at all an invitation for friendship nor verbal attack. Then, deciding he wanted to worm a response out of the other, “I mean… you’ve got to have a name,” he chuckled sarcastically, shaking his head with a prodding grin. “Something along the lines of Hannibal, Freddy? Am I close?” More poor choices, but he was loathe to stop now. “No?”

Howard couldn’t help the grin that splashed across his lips as his opponent grimaced at the insult. It was not one of friendship or merry, but rather one of wicked delight. It always amused him just how easy it was to rile someone up with the slightest snub. Just a word could cause such chaos and turmoil as it challenged their masculinity. It wasn’t that Howard was above it in anyway. Not too long ago he would have reacted the same way, but now he thought differently. The things he had seen and done had changed his mentality, forced him to mature above his years. That is why he would challenge the other again. Taunt him with the word boy just to see what kind of temperament the other held and by the look on his face, it seemed clear that he would react.

Howard breathed deeply as his arms began to sway, ready for the blow that was surely to come...but it would not. His arms would still and lower slightly as his opponent let of a bitter laugh. Perhaps he had underestimated this foe as the other showed restraint. Howard surely wouldn’t compliment him, but it was a quality that he admired. Willing and ready to fight at a moments notice, but smart enough to know when and where. It was tactic along with might that was the key to success, at least in his opinion anyways. Something that had taken Howard a long time to figure out. He had grown from a solitary figure that was hell bent on conquering his small world to someone that realized the benefits allies and strategy. An approving nod was all that he would offer before he spoke.

Howard’s arms would drop in harmony with Rafael’s as he introduced himself or at least stated his name. The Dhampir offered a bitter laugh of his own as names like Hannibal and Freddy were offered. It was clear that he was referencing famous Muggle horror movies, but they lacked the offense that he was hoping for. “No. Unfortunately for some, this monster is very real. Name’s Howard White and sure, I got an answer for you. Want to know why I lost my shit during the end of year announcements, yeah?”

Howard surely didn’t know this Rafael individual very well, but he was not a secretive person. He saw no point in it. He was going to be himself and if anyone had a problem with it, they could bugger right off. “Unlike all these bratty little shits.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to rest of their peers. “I don’t have a home to go back to. My parents hate all this magic shit and therefore they hate me.” The situation was surely more complicated than that, but Howard lacked the skill to explain it properly, not in this particular situation anyways. “The idiots that run our school think they are protecting us by sending us all home, but they’re sending me back into the lions den. How the fuck is someone that looks like me supposed to go back the Muggle world? They’ll burn my ass at the stake. So yeah, you’ll have to excuse me if I’m a little pissed of about it.” Howard crossed his arms as he finished his statement, the frustration of his situation clearly evident across his face.

“Satisfied?” He asked as he stared intensely into Rafael’s eyes. His response would be the deciding factor in whether this conversation went any further. Was he just some bullshitter like all the others or did this Gryffindor actually care about the plights of a Dhampir?

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Interacting With: @Howard White
Mentioning: N/A
Hex Color: #800000

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Rafael rolled his neck, idly awaiting the dialogue sure to come from the lips of his former opponent as he leaned back wryly, his foot propped against the underside of the picnic table as eyes once poisoned with fear now welled with a visible, burning sort of curiosity. There were many ways curiosity killed a cat, this instance being no different – a complete stranger he was, this Howard had the Captain’s full attention in a vice-like grip, every lilting syllable a labyrinth of information the boy found himself trying to unravel, only continuing to perfect the impossible mystery that was this self-proclaimed monster. Even the very question the other posed as to foreshadow his own explanation left the child wary, almost fearful of the answer he was to hear – why was the Captain so interested, anyways? Was it the sense of danger shrouding the other’s acquaintance that drew him closer? His ghastly pale complexion? Similarity in brashness? Was it the opportunity of snagging another piece to the puzzle that was the Hogwarts Mystery? A lead was a lead, no matter how dangerous or horrifying it was. Rafael had overcome the first challenge of his pursuit of answers with great difficulty, but even now, with no adversity to wrestle with, the boy found himself a victim to his own anxiety. Why was he so damn wary?

He supposed it didn’t matter, not when revelation was so imminent. In the meantime, Rafael would do well to mask his true emotions from the other – a careful poker-face decorated his features, eyes tentative, yet carrying a hint of boldness within them, signifying an ever-watchful, ever-apprehensive nature. Not scared, but not arrogant enough to ensure his own safety. His mouth, as well, had been long since drawn in a tight time, tense enough to tell a story of particular staunchness towards his setting – his shoulders, however, would quite obviously contradict his face, remaining loose and relaxed as a wave of nonchalance befell his physical countenance. For all intents and purposes, he carried himself with a powerful sort of air, as if he was as much a threat as the one sitting across from him, though the experience only moments prior could just as easily disprove this appearance. Not that it mattered. Rafael didn’t hold the stick, but he wasn’t afraid to fuck with someone who did. A master of physical deception, the Captain would quite nobly manage to retain his cool demeanor, letting no contradicting emotion slip from his mask of solidarity as he cocked his chin outwards, an eyebrow raising itself as to nonverbally prompt the other to continue. What was he going to hear? How would it impact his research?

That was the ironic part – it didn’t.

It was strange, how a few words changed everything. He supposed, in hindsight, words were what built and destroyed society, their very power allowing man to carry the sword of sociology or impale himself on its sharp edge. Was it so farfetched, then, that they would put a further damper on the young man’s fun? Rafael could only listen in horror as all his preemptive assumptions were shattered to pieces, only to be replaced with a tale of disparity regarding the dhampir and his familial relations. A story that fit well, perfectly even, if not causing the boy’s anger to stir within his stomach and flare within his gaze. The mask, as it seemed, wasn’t as strong as he’d initially thought. Howard’s words would continue to sound throughout the air, his frustration more than evident upon his countenance as he angrily told his tale to the Gryffindor. Until, at last, Rafael simply couldn’t take it any longer. It would only take one moment to slam his hand down on the table, his anger flaring up as his gaze narrowed in on the student opposite him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It had… slipped out, to say the least. Surprising, and the young man had been working on his impulses. Even more surprising, however, was the emotion that had prompted the exclamation in the first place. Any initial observation of his countenance may have eluded to the fact that his unrest had to do with his failure as a self-proclaimed detective – however, Rafael knew better than to accept this as truth. No, there was something about the other’s story that simply… well, it didn’t sit right with the Captain, in such a way that the very idea of someone treating their own son as anything else only managed to pour gasoline on the fire that was his flamboyant temper. Having been a victim of racism more than once, it was not a trait that he tolerated in the slightest. Even if their discrimination came from different origins. No, there wasn’t an ounce of pity painted on the face of the young man, nor was there a look of sadness in his eye. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he voiced aloud. It would be all his acquaintance would need to identify his true emotions. Distaste. “Your parents sound like real pricks.” It didn't matter if it was true or not. Anyways, there needn’t be further elaboration. That had, in the least, been the first thing to come to mind as he considered the other. The next words would leave with equal consideration to the last – that being, absolutely none. “If it’s such a problem, you going home,” he proposed, “you can stay at my place.”

Shrugging shortly, he looked about his surroundings, as if searching for the right words. “My family, they won’t care who you are. Don’t matter if you’re bloody Voldemort. What, ‘cause you got pointy teeth, you can’t sleep at your own house? Bullshit!” Then, rotating his neck once more as to alleviate the only growing headache he was quickly garnering, “Take it or leave it. If you got a problem with strangers, you can go home with those damned stuckups you call parents. At least at my place,” he scowled, “you won’t be harassed for having your ugly mug.” Bold words for someone in his position, he noted, ones surely meant to bait the other into a response. After all, the child would be lying if he said he wasn’t still curious regarding the limits of his acquaintance’s rage. He had set himself up for either imminent pain or acceptance. Would the other say yes to his offer? Had he damned himself to a summer locked in with a monster? He supposed it didn’t matter that much. He lived with his sister. Not even this guy was that bad. “What do you say, then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow brashly. “Hell, or London?”

Howard stood with arms crossed as he told his story to Rafael. Upon his face he wore a grimace as he spoke of the crumbling relationship with his parents. It wasn’t something that he talked of often as most could not relate or simply didn’t care, but as the words left his lips the pain and the anger tore through his chest. Rafael would be much harder to read as the Gryffindor lacked any emotion in his expression. The only response would be an intense look in his eye, but Howard was not perceptive enough to quite figure it out. His gaze burned with some kind of passion as he explained himself. Was it rage? Perhaps fear? The emotions were so closely linked, at least in Howard’s experience, as they both worked in tandem within him. The fear always came first although he would never admit it. The terror of losing family, adjusting to a new nature and a new world would strip him down. His only coping mechanism was to repress it and allow it to fester into anger.

BAM

The thought would be interrupted as Rafael slammed the table with his fist and shouted obscenities. The suddenness is his action would cause Howard to jolt and his expression turn to one of surprise. Perhaps the boy was just mental, but as he continued to speak, Howard would recognize his intentions as empathy. It would cause his eyes to squint as a brief moment of scrutiny passed through his mind. The few other people he had spoken to had offered him sympathy, but that was not what he wanted. It was understanding that he sought after. A willingness to express the outrage that he felt and join him in his anger. The fact that Rafael’s distaste matched his own would cause Howard to see him in a new light and his next words would solidify it. “Hmph, pricks is putting it lightly...”

Before he could speak any further, Rafael would offer a proposal that would cause him pause. The idea of simply staying with someone else over the summer had never crossed his mind as it was blinded by the fear and frustration of having to go home. As he explained his family wouldn’t be bothered by his nature the idea seemed more and more appealing. Sure, it would be awkward to stay with complete strangers, but at least he would be in a magical household. Worse case scenario he would just hide himself away and bide his time until he could return to Hogwarts. The last of Rafael’s words would snap him back to the present.

Unlike the other boy, Howard’s expression would slip into a grin. Perhaps the insult was meant to further agitate him, but it had the opposite effect as he finally let his guard down. “My ugly mug? Your parents will be thrilled to finally have a handsome man in the household. Poor things, stuck lookin’ at you for so long.” Howard snapped back, but in a way that was quickly turning playful. It might seem extreme that the pair had gone from hostility to throwing banter around, but that was just how Howard was. He reacted strongly to those that were just as brash as he, whether it be positive or negative.

“Alright then, Rafael. Let it be London.” Howard accepted the offer with a hand outstretched for a shake, and just like that his problem had been solved. Most in his shoes might not have been so quick to accept an offer from a complete stranger, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Better to chose your own hell than to live in one others thrust upon you.