Goblin' It Up Errand Main Thread Fin

If he didn't like her, he would have told her already. In the span of a split second her metal bracket smile returned. Hearing Mac indirectly say that he didn't want her to leave shifted Adlai's suddenly anxious mood into a whole new direction. Frantically she shook her head to his question, "Yes, yes I would like to hang out with you." She said as she squeezed his hand, as it was never stated they had let their grip on one another go.
What was that horrible feeling earlier anyway? It was so sudden, and new. Now it had vanished the moment her worries were put at ease. Perhaps it was something she should ask her mother about the next time she and her family were together again. Until then she would enjoy tonight, and the days leading up to winter break. Until then she would enjoy the company of Papa MacorooOni.
She hoped he wasn't another fleeting encounter, that she would see him again after tonight unlike the many faces she had interacted with once and then never saw again, or saw again but didn't talk to as if they didn't know each other in the first place.
Though, then again how could she forget someone who wore a paper bag on their head? That is if they were even wearing the paper bag the next time they meet.
"Oh, and as for the planets, I'll tell you about them anytime."

Thanks so much for joining me, @Aldor Humbleglow!
Leaving Thread

Rose and Aldor were just watching the movie when Aldor asked if she had any other friends. "Yeah. Why?" Was he being anxious about coming here? Was he wondering if he had been the last choice to go with. Heh, no. Definitely not. Rose had asked Aldor first. And, if she had asked someone first and they said no, she would probably have been too discouraged to ask anyone else, or, maybe, even go.

He asked her nervously if she thought that her other friends would like him. Rose smiled, imagining her friends- Alina, Scarlett, Auri, meeting sweet Aldor. "Oh, they would love you," she said, nothing but sincerity in her voice. They might think he was a little shy, but they would get along so well.

Then, they watched the rest of the movie together, simply having fun. Once the movie ended, Rose gathered up her stuff and stood up, brushing herself off. The Hufflepuffs were going with the Slytherins downstairs, while the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors went up to their towers. "Well, I guess this is it," she said, turning to him and smiling her big, warm smile. "Thank you so much for coming with me, you made it so much more fun than I could ever wish for." They then parted ways, Rose bouncing as she walked near some other Gryffindors that had come with them. She was looking forward to curling up in her bed with her cat, Chaska, as she was both physically and emotionally tired. But she was so glad she had been able to go with Aldor to trick-or-treat.

At first, Xailah had not realized that Pericles was attempting to push that lingering guilt away. Alright smartass. Something of a exasperated look would be sent towards the snowy-feathered raven. A quirky smile would begin to favor one pale cheek. "That wasn't meant to be answered. But thank you." She was certain he knew that. But, she would still take the odd bit of information, and tuck it into a very small fold, in her brain. Xailah enjoyed when Pericles threw little facts at her- whether she wanted them or not. They were doors, and windows to different places- sneak peeks into realities, that she would probably never get to experience. She loved all of them- regardless of how morbid, or peculiar they could be. "I'll be sure to remember that, in case I find myself participating in a Zoroastrian funeral." Xailah would not see the sleeping Britalian on the floor, as she and Pericles snaked their way through the blankets and pillows- which was probably for the best. It would seem that Pericles didn't care much about the Bram Stoker story, that Xailah had mentioned. The Gryffindor would have offered to lend him her own copy, so he could read it- had he expressed an interest in the title, instead of brushing it away. Pericles liked books. Maybe he just didn't like books of the horror genre? Which when she thought about it, it made no sense to her, but honestly little did. Not wanting to accidentally upset him, she would clasp her lips together tightly- deciding that it was better to keep what she had wanted to suggest, to herself.

At least her question wasn't brushed off. His answer would be met with a odd little coo. "The films don't sound dry." She chirped, as she hopped over a small pillow. "Its a shame your family won't be able to spend this holiday with you. I'm sure they would have been much better company." She didn't really think about it until now, but there were most likely a lot of things Pericles didn't get to do with his family, now that he was in school. Well, at least he would be getting to continue the October tradition- course his family wouldn't be here to participate. Xailah gave Pericles a knowing nod in response to his thanks. Honestly, she had no idea if incentive theory would work on Athena. But she liked to pretend that she was absolutely brilliant, every once in awhile- not to mention the information shared, had worked on her own cat. Or so she thought. The talk of the Rube Goldberg machines, coaxed an uncharacteristically girlish squeak out of the metamorph. Golds met silvers- to which the golds alighted in reaction. Xailah had an unhealthy obsession with machines of all types. She was the type of kid who would purposely break the toaster, just so she could see its innerworkings. Thankfully she had never actually been given access to a machine, like a toaster. "I love those. I've always wanted to make one but-" Her hands folded together in an endearing manner- until she realized that she was probably only embarrassing herself. "...I mean- they're cool I guess." She would quickly separate her hand, and shrug. But what she had said before was the truth. She adored those.

A shrouded hand rose, to stifle a snicker, that had been provoked by the butler impersonation. "Good. So I ssshouldn't expect any complaints coming from you, when I have you rebuild it again, yes?" She would pat him nonchalantly, on one feathery epaulette. "So understanding." She purred. Xailah bounced over some bedding, while she listened to Pericles talk. What sort of book had he found that explained how to make a lean-to? What even was a lean-to? She abstained from asking, figuring it was best to observe. It seemed that the boy was in his element. The lion cub mostly watched the eagle. Keeping him busy with his hands, had been her goal. It was quite remarkable how one could let their bad thoughts slip away, when they built things. Occasionally the Gryffindor roll a few bits of bedding towards the Ravenclaw, so that he always had materials to work with. The little den would come together nicely. "Ah, It is sssuperb!" Xailah excitedly bounced on her heels. She would be the last to crawl inside. She slid like a snake, on her belly, and claimed the side that had not been taken. "Schrödinger thinks you did a sssplendid job." She shoved her candy bag to a safe spot in the den- safe spot meaning away from Schrödinger- and tucked a few blankets around herself, to form some sort of strange nest. A flicker from beyond the plush shelter, would grab her eye. All peered upwards- had someone walked by, they could have easily mistaken the six glistening eyes, as those belonging to three little monsters.

Xailah was entranced by the flickering white words that suddenly appeared on the wall. A single, dark hair shot up, and danced on the top of her head. An antenna- if you will. It bobbed and swayed like a metronome at first, as she tried to figure what to make of the opening credits. Lots of names. German ones. Xailah would take note of one of them. Max Schreck. With a last name like that, it was clear that he was playing the villain. Since the word 'Schreck' meant something along the lines of 'fright' or 'shriek' in English. That was assuming surnames meant anything. A snippet of another Pericles Fact, would cause the hair to twitch in the direction of the cubs feathered friend, before resuming its bobbing. The fact made complete sense- at first anyways. So she nodded in understanding. There was another soft burble from her Ravenclaw companion- to which Xailah would respond with a: "No kidding." The Gryffindor then let out a hollow snort. The reality behind Pericles little comment, was admittedly a sadder than it should have been. First years at Hogwarts were supposed to be at the school, to get an (decent) education. A fight for survival should have never been relevant- or considered for that matter.

Nosferatu really was a horror movie. Xailah had her doubts- up until five minutes into the movie. The first few shots were quite pleasant- if not endearing. Especially the brief scene of Nina playing with her kitten. "Ah." Watching the woman on screen, bob a toy in front of the little feline; brought a tiny smile to the childs face. But come the following scenes, that smile would contort into a sneer- which would then become a grimace. "Oh." Kissing. Lots of it. Well, not lots- but there was certainly more than there should have been. "What? No..." The Gryffindor mumbled to herself, mildly horrified. "Disgusting." A hand would reach towards Schrödinger face. Dainty fingers would fumble over his eyes, to block his vision- not that the cat was actually watching the movie, or really cared about it. He hardly knew what was going on anymore. His face would squish away from his owners hand, as his head receded into his pumpkin costume, like some sort of strange turtle. The frequent displays of affection luckily wouldn't last very long, as the film jumped into far more exciting parts of the story. The introduction of vampires. Werewolves. Transylvania. That was all good stuff.

A rocky start, but Nosferatu wasn't horrible for a first movie. Though, Xailah figured she wouldn't be enjoying the film as much, had been watching it alone. Pericles would whisper something- asking about why real wolves were not casted to play the part of a werewolf. Or something along those lines. Xailah produced a low buzz from her throat. Processing. "Wolves can be quite aggressive. They might have been a challenge to work with." That was the only thing she could figure, that made sense. "Or maybe that was a reused picture- as in, it was originally taken for something else, but used again here..." Her voice drifted, as she focused back on analyzing the movie- staring on, with black pupils the size of galleons. "They must have had to take a lot of pictures, to make this movie." She mumbled the afterthought. The little hair from before continued to move, but it had long stopped the bobbing. It wiggled now- wiggled as if it was trying to mimic the emotions of each character introduced. The Gryffindors brows would crinkle, once the Count made his entrance. He was a rather peculiar looking character- and it was then Xailah began to grow puzzled, over Pericles makeup fact from the start of the film. Was the Count wearing makeup too? If he was, it didn't explain the teeth, or eerily long fingers. Was he born that way? "Is he under a polyjuice potion?" Polyjuice, was the only other explanation for his appearance, that made sense to her- since she had been told that muggles didn't take too kindly to freaks of nature. "I thought this was a muggle film?" It was more of a search for confirmation, than an actual question. A sudden shuffle of feathers, from Pericles side of the fort, made Xailah jump a little bit. She had been too engrossed in what was happening on the wall, to expect any sort of sudden movements- she had even failed to notice the absence of his quiet noises after awhile.

Xailah was a bit more assertive than Pericles was. Assertive in the sense, that if she wanted something, or sought information- she would make sure she got what she was looking for, in some way. If something was wrong, and she didn't know the reason, she was going to eventually ask. Regardless of whether or not doing so, was polite. Gold rings repeatedly flickered from the movie, to the boy. She wanted to continue watching it but... Gah. Another opportunity would arise for her to view another moving picture. So she too flipped over abruptly, so that she could face the lad. "Whats wrong?" It would have been safe to assume that Pericles got squeamish when there were possible implications of violence- "And don't tell me its nothing." If not for the fact that he had been acting like he was uncomfortable, even before the movie had started. "Is it the movie?" She questioned, as she watched a silver glove, finger at Schrödinger's ear. The cat kept trying to evade the prodding finger, by repeatedly tucking his head into his costume- but he quickly succumbed to his own laziness. He would deliver the occasional flick, of a grey ear. "I'm not sssure he likes you poking around his ears. But I'm certain that if you ask nicely he'll forgive you, and let you hold a paw." Xailah said, laughing softly, before extending a hand nearest to the cat, and boy; fingers drumming at the ground.

-Interacting with @Aaron Jones, @Zykeal Lane & @Eyre Reeves-

Since their first interaction, Zyk had been quite "flirty" with Lydia, even though it was in a subtle way; it wasn't as if she was used to it, the redness of her face showed that pretty well, but she still couldn't understand if the boy was being serious or not. When he talked with Aaron about her, she couldn't help but roll her eyes; why did everyone think that they were together? The Gryffindor's next comment then made any doubt go away from Lydia's mind: he already had a crush on somebody else, and that made Lydia feel better. It wasn't as if Zyk was ugly, on the contrary he looked quite nice, but...well, let's say that for for that moment Lydia was trying not to think about anyone in an even remotely romantic way -of course, she failed miserably at that-

When Aaron almost chocked to death, she looked worriedly at him, before shaking her head. "Nope, no boyfriend. We're best friends!" she clarified as well, then moved her gaze towards the blankets, studying the empty spots until she found one that looked cosier than the others. "I've found it!" she said excitedly, before she guided the group towards the pillows and blankets. Lydia also noticed how far Aaron sat from her, and she couldn't help the small frown that appeared on her face. Did Zykeal's comment affect him so much that he didn't want to sit next to her?

With a sigh, she nodded in agreement to her best friend's words, before she focused her attention on the movie. It was quite interesting, despite it being in black and white, and before she knew it, she found herself immersed in the story; she absently took the popsicle she had taken from the Astronomy set up and started eating it; it tasted as amazing as it looked, the sugar melting in her mouth.

The movie was over way too soon, and Lydia stretched her legs on the blanket, before getting up and stretching her back as well. "Well, it was a nice movie!" she said to the group with a smile, before she focused her attention on the Librarian's words, her eyes moving then on the Slytherin prefect.

"It looks like the night is over," Lydia said, "I had a lot of fun! Thank you for doing this with us,"
She looked at the Gryffindor duo and smiled again; after saying goodbye, she started walking towards the Slytherin prefect, knowing that her best friend would have done the same thing, since they were both Hufflepuff students.

As they made their way back towards their common room, Lydia couldn't help but smile the whole time; it had been an extremely nice night, and she was happy she had spent it with Aaron, Zyk and Eyre.

Lydia left the thread.

@Xailah Alptraum

"That wasn't meant to be answered. But thank you."
"You're welcome."
With a little back-and-forth silliness, Peri's spirit was on the rise again. He let himself sink into the ambiance of the falsified forest, the anticipation of seeing a new film, the inviting coziness of the pillow and blanket field. When Xailah dropped a considerate line about being away from his family, the boy waved it away, or rather, since his hands were full of treats and cats, settled for a shrug of shoulders and lifted chin. He spoke with a dry haughtiness that could not, in any way, be serious nor truthful. "Frankly, I'm rather bored of my parents," Pericles fibbed theatrically. "They've been around for twelve years now. I should think it is time for us to make new friends, and they will have to do without me for a little while." A reassuring smile was sent her way. As much as he missed his family, he had been sore for school all summer, and was perfectly content to spend the spookiest holiday with a friend instead.

They spoke of machines. Seeing the metamorph wring her hands with excitement was encouraging in turn, and Pericles agreed with hushed enthusiasm, "They are cool." He liked that word, cool. Pericles had learned it in his first year here, that simple slang term, which had an appealing nonchalance to it. It was radical. "We should build one someday. It shouldn't be hard, assuming we can gather up an excess of objects." But first on the list was the building of their little shelter, which preoccupied Peri nicely. Each time Xailah handed him a new piece, he would squint at the structure as if it were a puzzle, trying to decide where it would fit. Upon completion, seeing the lean-to met with delight, the lad donned a satisfied smile. There was a hint of laughter on the edge of his voice as he muttered, "I'm glad he likes it." Glad that Xailah liked it too, of course. He would far rather tuck in than being ordered to rebuild the hodgepodge shelter.

Snippets of facts, observations exchanged at whispers, then a boyish bout of soft snickering when the metamorph voiced her disgust. Peri briefly lapsed into his age, and as Xailah covered her cat's eyes from the offending scene, he covered his mouth to stifle the sound. As time ticked on, he indulged the contents of his candy sack as silently as possible. The only other distraction was the occasional glance spared for the bobbing antennae swaying to and fro on Xailah's head. It was a wonderful Halloween, a suitable replacement for one spent at home, with candy and a scary movie and complimentary company. There was hardly an excuse, Pericles tried to tell himself, for being so emotionally distracted. This balance of joy and reason still didn't stop him from sounding vaguely tired as he answered, "It is a muggle film. That's just, what they think his kind look like." Pericles was soon brooding in the way teenagers typically do: trying not to seem obvious about it, while simultaneously managing the exact opposite of subtlety. When Schrodinger protested against ear rubs, Peri patted his back apologetically, then tried to busy himself with grooming the nape of the can't neck. Xailah had already found him out. "Whats wrong?"His first instinct was to insist nothing was wrong, that he was only giving their mutual friend a little extra attention. His mouth opened. "And don't tell me its nothing." His mouth closed.

Pericles watched with a lift of lids and arch of brows as his friend speculated. It was Halloween. This was her first movie. He couldn't go on ruining either with one of his weird moods, those rare, tedious times in which overthinking cast a shadow over his typically tranquil reputation. But he couldn't wiggle his way out of such a blunt confrontation either. "D'you suppose that real vampires find this sort of stuff..." he paused, peering at the screen, which read:

"Is this your wife? What a lovely throat!"

At that line from the Count, Pericles' face, much like Harker's, fell. His placid features managed an abnormal blend of disdain and embarrassment. "...offensive?" The moment that offense dropped, he vividly second-guessed his own choice of words, promptly launching into a contrite diatribe, trying to brush away the aversion. His hushed voice was hasty. "I'm sorry. I'm probably being silly again, overthinking an old movie. It's only that, my father doesn't allow vampiric fiction in our library. He considers it 'derogatory', but then, he's been campaigning for the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires for five years now, meaning one could call him a bit biased. It really is nothing. In fact, the more mull it over, the less it matters a'tall. I'm happy to be here for your first movie, and I shouldn't spoil things with a critique based on morality, not when I could be critiquing-" Peri pointed at the screen, where he wanted her attention, "-Renfield's horrible wig. At least, I hope it is a wig, and they didn't do that to the poor actor's real hair." He forced a quiet puff of faux, distracting laughter.

"Bored of them? That so?" Pericles was a lucky boy. While he lied in jest, the metamorph couldn't help but envy him. Pericles was very, very lucky to have such a seemingly real family. There was an inaudible, and hollowed huff. Feline eyes adverted to parts of the polished ballroom floor, that had not yet been covered by blankets. She would recover herself with a forced chortle, and a quirky hum. The lion cubs, sharp features would soften at the construction workers suggestion of building a Rube Goldberg machine, together. "Yes." She cooed in agreement. "I think I would quite like that. There are always a lot of lost things, laying around the school. You just have to know where to look." Xailah already had an abundance of... things. But where was the fun in building something with objects, that had already been discovered?

At one point, during the middle of the movie; Xailah had discovered a loose string on one of her blankets. It was distracting. She pulled at the weft, slowly causing one corner of the blanket to unravel. When given Pericles' broody little answer, she yanked. Xailah peered at the boy out of the corner of her eye. She was all too familiar with the infliction- after all she was teenage girl. After mulling over it for a moment; she decided it was probably best to not further poke, the topic of the Counts abnormal appearance. With the way Pericles was prodding at her cat, she was beginning to fear that Schrödinger had fleas. She leaned over- eyes lidded in suspicion- to inspect the furry companion. There were no parasites to be seen. Thankfully. She would have disliked to cut the night short, just to give the poor creature a flea bath. Pericles knew that there was no escaping the blunt question, that had been drawn. He wanted to play the easy way then. Or so she thought. His answer- or rather question, would come as a surprise to the beastling Gryffindor.

"Hm. Well. Do you find stories that depict magical folk, as baby-stealing villains, offensive?" Her mouth compressed into a thin line. Oh that wasn't a fair question. Magical folk were not part of the minority. Something would be whispered expeditiously. The Gryffindor teetered to the side a little, to listen. There was a keyword there- in all he had murmured. Xailah latched onto it. Vampiric fiction. Fiction. "I think..." She hummed, as she tried to find the exact words to explain her thoughts- so that she could express them in a way that made some sense. "So long as you know the reality behind a sssubject, there is no harm in reading about it. Or watching it- in this case." Another pause. The topic of morality wasn't exactly her strong suit. Good and bad sometimes blurred for her. "It isn't about whether or not real vampires find this material offensive per se- that is not the thing to worry about. The thing that should be questioned, is if other people believe the things depicted in this sssort of fiction."

A linen-veiled hand, gestured to the projection on the wall in front of the lion and bird. "This is, or so you claim-" She was still a bit skeptical, since there were some elements in the movie Nosferatu that she couldn't quite wrap her head around- like why the Count looked the way he did, without the use of a Polyjuice. "-A muggle movie. Therefore it is made by muggles, for muggles. So, I don't think they knew that vampires were... real, at the time of making this. I don't think their intentions were to paint those inflicted by vampirism, in a bad light. They were just making a ssscary movie." She fell silent- dissatisfied in how she was trying to get her point across. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she had something more to add. Eventually she would find something. "But thats not the answer that you wanted is it? You want to know if you, watching this movie is... wrong. Don't you? Xailah leaned closer to her human companion. "That, is not a question for me to answer, Pericles." Was Pericles being silly again? Certainly. Well, maybe. If anything the Gryffindor supposed the eaglet was simply being compassionate.

Pericles would try to to pull an Oz. Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! The Oz tactic, yes, that was a favorite card for many. The metamorph included. Xailah wouldn't redirect her attention to the screen. She didn't want to look at it anymore. She had no interest in Renfields frizzy sprigs of hair. She attentively watched the young boy, that lay next to her. "It is horrible. Isn't it?" It was horrible. And she wasn't referring to- what was hoped to be a wig. As to what she was really referring to? -She wasn't too sure herself. Perhaps she found the state of the world, and the people, horrible. Who knew? That brief sentence, would remain open to interpretation. For now. "You haven't ssspoiled a thing." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Its just a movie. I'll always have the opportunity to see another-" Maybe. Assuming she did not perish within the next year or two, her chances seemed to be pretty good. "I would much rather ssspend my time talking to you anyways; because I won't always have this opportunity." Suppose something was to happen a year, or a month from now? What if something was to happen tomorrow, and she was never to see any of her friends again? She would have hated to remember that her last moments with Pericles, were spent with their attention solemnly glued to a flickering screen. They didn't have to talk. They didn't have to do anything. But Xailah would have preferred that they spoke- so any creeping guilt could be stomped out.

When in conversation, there were a few verbal cues (if one could call them that) that Xailah had a tendency to pick up on- the specification of time being the most common. She had started to associate the mention of time, with things that were important. People often remembered the time- or at least had an idea of the time- when something that would come to influence their life, happened. If they spoke of something personally important, they mentioned specific numbers, rather than opting to use words like 'some', or 'few' in reference to time. She knew, because she did the same. Xailah replayed Pericles expressed thoughts- that had practically been dumped upon her, moments before. Something must have happened five years prior, for Pericles to keep track of how many years had passed. "What happened to your father five years ago?" There was another give away: the explanation of the elder Dralt having involvement with the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires. Xailah had a decent understanding of how humans worked. People didn't just participate in social welfare organizations. Especially if the organizations were made to help... peculiar individuals- individuals that the general public tried to avoid. People didn't like to help those types of groups. Not without a reason anyways. So- what his fathers reason?

"Don't answer that. Sssorry." She averted her eyes, as she was ashamed for voicing a thought that should have remained in her head. Her overt curiosity, and blunt inquiries were going to get her hurt one day- eventually she was going to pry where she shouldn't. She wanted to know what had happened, yes, but she felt as if questioning, was being a bit pushy- if not a little insensitive. She poked around in her candy bag for a moment, searching for something to share. Dainty fingers produced a small treat from the bat-shaped goody bag. It looked to be one of the candies that she had taken from Muggle Studies. "Would would you like a-" She squinted at the thing, trying to make out the tiny, tiny blue words that hung out of the wrapper. Her nose wrinkled, as she sneered at the taunting letters. They were hard to read. "-Kiss?" She asked. Her tone was one of confusion. She held out the foil-wrapped morsel in the palm of her hand; for the Ravenclaw to take.

@Xailah Alptraum

Tempted though he may be to tickle the cat until he withdrew into his pumpkin, much in the fashion of an ungainly tortoise, Pericles' clumsy attentions towards Schrodinger aroused concerns in his keeper. In the same sense, the way Xailah pulled upon an errant thread duly distracted the boy. How long could she draw out the string before snapping it? Would there be a blanket left? He wanted to reach across and surgically disconnect the stray, but refrained, and stopped pestering poor Schrodinger's ears in the process. Peri held his head up with a palm, the opposite forearm braced below against the blanketed floor. It was the posture of a daydreamer, though it seemed his thoughts had strayed a little too far into the subject matter at hand.

He had brought the movie's morality into question. Offense was something his sort were bred to be wary of, to shy from, thus maintaining one's walk along the path of proper eloquence. They were discouraged from debating matters of politics or religion in order to maintain an agreeable atmosphere. Some things were better off overlooked, or outright ignored, for the sake of sustaining a gentlemanly comportment. But Pericles had too many questions for all that. He wanted to wonder over just about everything, and anything, no matter how unsettling or unwelcome it might be. Xailah had a way with encouraging this potentially dangerous curiosity. While the witch might have passed it off as impoliteness or weirdness, to Pericles, her openness was like a secret passage that could lead him off the corridor of stiff decorum. It was a call to mischief, to freedom of expression, to an honesty that may result in one's ruin or construction. Boy, she really was a bad influence.

The boy's crumbling composure painted a clear picture of confliction, the squirm of someone who has a secret which they are regularly bound to keep, yet clearly craving the opportunity to share. He had been a Hogwarts student for over a year now, and hadn't told a soul to date. That was an awfully long time for any kid to keep a secret. Xailah was putting to question facts versus feelings, perspectives versus reality, notions which appealed to Peri a great deal. Did he find it offensive, or was he just regurgitating the opinions he had been exposed to? The flippant mention of magical folk often being depicted as baby-stealing villains was enough to jostle him from his linear path of thinking. He regarded his friend with wide eyes and a gentle arching of eyebrows, metaphorically chewing the fat, literally chewing a lolly that looked like a planet. He used it as an excuse to preoccupy himself from speaking preemptively, keeping quiet so as to take in everything the metamorph had to say. Even in the wake of her words, there was a prolonged silence. Some may see it as shock. Others might recognize the sleepy, drifting, faraway expression he adopted as deep introspection. Ultimately, she addressed the question he had been dancing anxiously around, only to turn this on its head by pointing out it wasn't her place to say if something was "wrong" or "right". It was a great deal to think about. Perhaps too much to think about, when they were supposed to be reveling in the simple pleasures of sugar and movies in their blanket fort.

Peri put to doubt his derailing of the evening, but Xailah brushed it off. He attempted to redirect and reduce by making fun of the film, an act which she politely, albeit firmly, dismissed. There was relief in hearing he hadn't spoiled things with his propensity for abstract (and often intense) overthinking, though there were still signs of restraint. Likely worrying she was pushing these boundaries, she apologized and said not to answer, though he immediately insisted "I'd like to. Don't be sorry." It was about time someone rattled the walls of the box he'd stuck himself in. Now it was a matter of deciding how he would go about actually answering. In the midst of mulling, Xailah offered him a Kiss- those very same chocolates he had avoided upstairs, on account of them being Vampire Kisses. Cheeky. His eyes narrowed, tension hardening his mouth, straining to stop from smiling and giving her the satisfaction. Slowly, he reached to take it, whispering a forcibly flat thank you. Peri placed it on the blanket beneath him. Meticulously, he fumbled with the foil, soon setting aside his gloves when the material prevented him from opening the silly thing. A fingernail pushed off the chocolate peak, then he went so far as to sniff at it, inspecting the contents with care. It was not like a bloodpop at all. Was that cherry? Still feeling played, but saucily spiteful, he ate what remained of the mutilated treat. He was overthinking the chocolate like he'd overthought an answer. The simple thing to do was just eat the treat, or in the case of his present predicament, tell the story straight.

"Six years ago, my father was on an important mission for the Ministry. It had something to do with a gaggle of vampires terrorizing a little village. I s'pose some of their kind had tried to stop them, as they were drawing a great deal of unwanted attention, but I don't really know much about their laws or leaders. They're very secretive." There was wryness in the way he said this; he didn't like not knowing, though when it came to a society he did not directly belong to, it couldn't be helped. This sense of otherness potentially played into his willingness to be offended on their behalf, to belong by extension. But that was a discussion better saved for when he was laying on a lounge while someone with a doctorate pretended to take notes. "To keep things civil, they sent two Ministry men: dad, and his partner." Peri's tone was similar to someone reciting something they'd learned when called on in class. It was carefully articulated, with multiple pauses, implying he had to take great care with the exact amount of information he gave away. For example, the pause which followed implied an excess of fact and speculation were being chopped out of the story. After the stretch of suspenseful silence, it was all the more evident he'd skipped over some important details. "When they brought him back, he was one of them."

"Five years ago, a pair of thieves broke into our house. Well- father said they were thieves, but they didn't try to run when my parents woke up. I think they were there for him. People tend to forget that vampires are people, too, with families and lives. I don't like stories giving anyone excuses to treat them differently..." then he smiled, an especially warm and earnest thing compared to his daydreaming default, "...but I like what you've said. I haven't been allowed to consider that sort of stuff. Maybe, it would be better if I did, so I could better understand how I feel about it..." as opposed to, he didn't say, what he'd been groomed to feel. Disdain and automatic rejection. Maybe he would wind up being a Team Jacob type. Don't tell him how to live, dad. "Thank you. I hope you weren't just being kind to my feelings, when you said you don't mind talking over the movie...." The smile quirked into a sad smirk as he self-teased, "I'd like to think it's just as good of a scary story to tell on Halloween as any other."

Oh, she was the absolute worst influence. That was very much true. Why did Pericles hang out with her again? The why, didn't much matter; because really, Pericles wasn't much better. He provoked certain ideas, just as much as she indirectly encouraged them. An ashamed look remained, even when it was evident that Pericles wanted to share what had happened to his father. "Are you sssure?" Sometimes, she didn't like his insisting. A silence of the pondering variety floated about the small, snowy-bird. It would remain undisturbed for a little while. The Kiss that had been offered, was accepted with a funny sort of pseudo sternness. The boys monotonous thanks, and the slow unwrapping of the candy; evoked a lazy blink from his lioness counterpart. "If you wait long enough, it might just sssprout legs and run away." She mumbled dryly, as she watched the eagle poke at the bit of candy- only to later sniff at it. Sniff at it? Did the boy suspect his friend of sabotaging the succulent morsel? A finger free of its shiny, silver cloak, scraped away at the thin chocolate shell that protected gooey innards. "Oh, now you've done it." The metamorphs head crooked curiously to one side. The careful dismemberment continued, as did the observations. "You've completely obliterated the poor thing." A humoredly pitiful click, echoed from the observers throat. The cherry-filled treat was no more. It had been crushed. Massacred by the gentle child who had dissected it in the same cautious way, a young medical student would a frog.

There would be nothing to stall with, once the treat was gone. Both children knew that. The silence would drag on, as Pericles carefully pulled his story apart, like he had done with the candy. What to tell. What not to tell. What was the main thing that needed to be known? It wasn't a easy task. Thinking that Pericles no longer intended to tell her anything- or that he simply need a little more time to gather thoughts- Xailah quietly rolled over onto her back, and stared up at the woolen, makeshift ceiling. Something would then be said by the boy, as she shifted about. The tone wasn't one of casual chitchat. It was serious. Solemn. Hushed. It had a sort of fleeting familiarity- that could vaguely be recognized as a tone used, when sharing things of undisclosed nature. What was it? A whisper? A secret. His secret. Xailah would keep it safe. The girl quietly listened, to what her storyteller had to share. He spoke of his father, and his fathers job. Vampires, and small villages- vampires that terrorized small villages. Understandably secretive leaders, of the undead. Then he spoke of his father and a partner. Finally, there was a eerily long pause- which couldn't have meant anything good.

And then there it was. The big reveal. The answer. The reason. Pericles' daddy, was a vampire- a creature of the night. It all made sense now. Seemed to make sense anyways. The reason why his father vouched for the undead, was because he was undead himself. While that reveal answered one big question, it left many little ones unanswered. The little ones were the most troubling. What happened to the partner? Did Pericles keep quiet to protect his father? Or did he keep quiet because he was ashamed of him? Why did he trust that the Gryffindor would keep this secret? The queries buzzed like a swarm of angry little bees. A stone formed in the base of the metamorphs throat. She realized something- thought she did, and it made her very sad; because she didn't think Pericles understood, or even considered the possible facts that laid beneath the revelations. Pericles father didn't restrict the access of vampiric fiction solely for the genre being deemed "derogatory". He restricted it, for the same reason Xailah was evasive, and lied about the things she had done: Fear. Fear was the reason. More specifically the fear of rejection- the fear of being turned away by something you cared for. The elder Dralt was afraid of his little boy reading one of those books, and thinking his daddy was some sort of monster. Xailah thought she understood.

The Gryffindor began to stir, as if getting ready to say something- but then quickly quieted. She had wanted to tell Pericles what she thought, at first. But something had stopped her. That irritating little voice of reason piped up. He doesn't need to hear it. And for once, that intrusive little voice was absolutely right. Who was she, to expose the vulnerabilities of another? Who wanted to hear that their father- the man that they were to look up to, was afraid? No one. A conversation of that nature, was best left for family- the lord and his successor- to discuss. Not friends. There was something else the Gryffindor could ask though. It followed a similar train of thought. "Were you afraid of your father, when he came home?" Or had the boy simply been thrilled that his father had come home, and thought little of the change? The later mention of what Pericles had been told were "thieves", had Xailah wondering if his father... wasn't supposed to come home. Ever. There was quite a bit missing to the whole story, that much was obvious. And yet, little context was needed to understand it. Pericles father was no longer human on the outside- that was all one really needed to understand.

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, she had little else to comment on the topic of Pericles father. He just told her that the man was undead- what was she supposed to say in response to that? I'm sorry that your dad is a vampire? Because that would have been a lie. She wasn't sorry about that. His father could have stayed dead, instead of being turned- that was what the fates could have decided for him, but they didn't. At least Pericles still had a father. What a lucky boy indeed. Xailah gave a steady nod, eyes still glued to the underside of the forts covering- she would miss that strange little smile of his. Stories shouldn't ever give people excuses- for anything. And yet fantasy, was still used as leverage for things in the real world. But there was no reason to push that topic further. Pericles claimed that he liked what Xailah had said. She thought her words were nonsense, and gave a lazy wave of her hand. "Its alright to think for yourself every once in awhile." It was an easy thing to tell someone else. Though, not so easy to do, on your own.

"If you don't, you'll end up no better than those that use ssstories as excuses to harm others. Taking offence without understanding- without deciding how you truly feel- can be just as harmful as... well, not taking offence, I suppose." Her brows creased. Hopefully that made some sense. Even if it didn't, the one takeaway should have been- the boy needed to think for himself. They both did. There was something else said by the boy- another thanks. The girls creased brows, drew themselves into neat arches. "If I wanted to be kind to your feelings, I wouldn't have sssaid a thing at all." Because that, was what a kind person would have done- ignored the problem. Xailah was a lot of things- however there was one thing that she was not. She was not kind. She had said what she said, because she was genuinely concerned. It wasn't an act of kindness. Not at all. A pitiful jab, from the boy, gave rise to a few quiet snorts. The Gryffindor peered up with a fleeting, tight-lipped smile; that was reminiscent of Pericles own downcast smirk. Truthfully, his story was more sad than scary, but there was little point in mentioning that. "Pericles. How do you feel about the movie? How do you really feel?"

@Xailah Alptraum

Children were awkward by nature. Wandering conversations and sporadic distractions were natural to them, let alone when they fell prey to a topic that wasn't easy to approach already. When Xailah commented on the candy dissection, saying it may sprout legs and run off, Peri asked in idle surprise: "Do they? I've never had one before." There was something off about the flippantly clueless tone he used, and if the witch had any doubts about whether or not he was truly so clueless, Peri chanced a fleeting side-eye her way in the obvious attempt at gauging her reaction. When chastised for smooshing the sorry thing, he retorted with a vague grin and fake defensiveness, "It's still edible...." Silliness. Diversions. She was right to ask if he actually wanted to tell the tale, though the lad pressed lightly, "Yes. I think so." The playfulness petered off, replaced by the restrained recount.

It felt right that Xailah was the first of few he would share this story with. She was not the sort which would rush in with sympathies, nor was she cold and detached from the severity of it all. Somewhere, under all the niceties, perhaps Pericles knew that they were both perfectly weird enough to accept one-another's tales. She did not treat the strange secret with nonchalance, nor criticism, and instead welcomed it with a thought-provoking question. Some might have thought it rude. Pericles found it challenging. Had he been afraid of his father? The boy was stumped. He didn't like not having an answer. A "no" should have sufficed, ought to have been the end of it, yet his mouth opened only to draw breath before decidedly closing again. A "no" would have been easy, but not the truth. This was the sort of thing he had not allowed himself to have a strong opinion of, and was more or less content to compartmentalize. Xailah had casually unlocked the latch on that lid. After a stretch of stunned staring and faraway mulling, he had an answer for them both. "I was afraid that everything was going to change."

And oh, how things had changed. The immaculately structured foundation which Pericles was raised upon was turned on its head. "Father was all these things- Slytherin prefect, Quidditch keeper, ace student. He went on to become an auror, a true warlock. He was powerful and always in complete control of everything he did. Then he had to have his sire move into our home, to make sure he was 'safe' enough to still live with his own family. It was as if all these things he'd built his identity around, made him himself, were stolen away. He's still every bit my father..." Pericles knew he was habitually trying to tenderfoot around this, though the lid was already open, and it was best to confront its contents. "...and yet altogether different. I was supposed to become everything he was and then some. You know: legacies. But now he's a part of something that I'm not even allowed to know all about. It wasn't fair to him. I can't make sense of it all." The boy had been raised with expectations woven into every lesson of his life. Even in the Grecian components of his name- peri kleos, "exceeding glory"- was the suggestion that he was bred to do something spectacular. So he strove to make sense of everything, to right wrongs, to solve mysteries, to help others. It was a broad, viciously vague task for a twelve-year-old boy to appoint to himself. He hadn't even touched on how impossibly extraordinary his mother was.

But Pericles was being asked a number of extremely important questions. How did he feel? What did he think? Where did he apply understanding to offense? Xailah asked how he felt about the movie, for which he had a lot of feelings, possibly too many. He had picked apart the film as he picked apart the candy, and treated too many aspects of his life with a similar excess of scrutiny. Peri dearly wanted to understand what made the world tick, but sometimes, a candy was just a candy, meant to be enjoyed. He skirted around saying it was "inappropriate", what with the wonton neck-biting, as that thought rang in the voice of his father. Xailah had asked what he thought about it. He began to earnestly watch, as if he had been waiting for an invitation to do so, though- considering all that had been divulged that eventful evening- one couldn't be faulted for assuming he was subliminally seeking permission. "I think..." the boy admitted eventually, turning towards her with a tired smile, "...it's sort of silly. The story hasn't told us a thing about who the Count used to be, or how he became what he is. We don't know a thing about him, really, aside from his vampirism and the obsession for poor Mina. I like stories with more meaning- though, I'm sure the muggles did the best they could with the materials they had at the time." Admitting how he felt- without any excess speculation or taking the opinions of others into consideration- was shockingly easy. In fact, when he went about things that way, the movie wasn't worthy of much upset after all. It felt right, and made good sense. He would need to do that more often.

The duo had been in a world of their own. Their blanket fort and whispers blotted out the rest of the room, the entire castle even, creating a sort of introspective island. Pericles seemed surprised to hear Miss Finley's voice, as if she hadn't been there the entire time. The near tearful interaction in which he had the hex lifted felt like it occurred an age ago. Disappointment flickered across his face, though there was hope for them yet. She was guiding Gryffindors and Ravenclaws in a group. With a smile touched by sleepiness and reluctance alike, Pericles whispered, "Do you think anyone will notice if we stay in the tent?" He felt drained, but in a productive sense, and knew sleep would be delayed by buzzing reflection. All the same, he pushed himself to sit, scooping up Schrodinger and eyeing the changeling expectantly.