When History Lets You Down pv fin

@Everly Charlton

Libraries were meant to be a place of quiet, a gentle air around an infinite supply of all the knowledge one could crave, and it was deeply disdained by Levi. He nurtured such an atmosphere in contempt, a burning in his soul that would have to be subdued simply because he yearned for their words. There was a world that, for years, had been lingering just at the tips of his fingers, taunting the young boy from his peripherals, and it was suddenly in sight, resting before him and waiting to be torn apart for everything that created it. Books upon books diving into what it was, what it meant, all that it could be. A gravitational pull continued to bring him here, to learn what everyone else seemed to know, and to bathe in the knowledge that came with no end.

But to do so in quiet. That was where the discontent fell into the equation firmly cancelling out the pleasure of education. Yes, the books fed him, gave the lion the strength to climb from the floor to the ceiling, but he was the only breath he could hear, the only soul with that flame, as everyone else was extinguished beyond the Library door. A million things could happen in the quiet and they would all start with a sound, but when the atmosphere was silent, nothing was happening. It was as though the world came to a standstill, and only the quick fluttering of pages could remind Levi that it remained alive, breathing.

When a book slammed shut, his prayer was answered and there was a word of appreciation under his breath. It broke the utter hush that damned the boy, and hazel eyes flickered up to search for who his savior was. The pages locked in his hand had done nothing to explain how muggleborns came to be, if there was a law of genetics or if it truly did only happen to those worthy, so the sudden ruckus was the best thing to have come from this visit. From where he sat, most of the mannequins that thought themselves alive were in his sightline, continuing to go about their business. One though, one caught his eye, with a lively tint to their skin and color in their cheeks.

For a moment, he weighed his options but the scale tipped in such a manner that the other fell further than to the bottom, swallowed into the unforgiving floor and his choice was quickly made. Standing and carefully easing over to where the girl was, it was apparent that it was frustration that brought her to life. Exasperated, she pushed the book in question into its gap on the shelf, and Levi managed to find his words. Curiosity washed over his face, but it was accompanied by a reassuring smile, a combination he had not intended to read like concern. That was something to be worked on. “Not finding what you’re looking for?”

@Levi Drakos

Shelves upon shelves of books, and not one held a mention or gave Everly at least and idea or push towards her destination. Everly cherished books, she really did; but the girl was caught in her rage at the blank gaps in history. Hand against shelf and mind pulsing, she paused with mild disorientation and confusion before settling back down in her seat to think about further steps. Normally the young Gryffindor wouldn't allow herself to get caught up in her anger; her temper was one thing that Everly had yet to maintain control over.

Sinking into her seat and making a face at the pile of books she'd already gone through, Everly once again sank into her thoughts. Mentally, ten percent of herself was reminding over and over again to calm down, and the other ninety percent was boiling with rage. She chewed on her lip as she thought, her fingers fidgeting. Footsteps above her echoed as she set a rhythmical beat in her mind, releasing breaths slowly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Not finding what you’re looking for?”

A voice brought her back to reality. Everly didn't notice that she'd been sinking into her thoughts, unaware of her surroundings. She flinched, startled, her eyes popping open. "Does it look like I'm happy?" she snapped, her temper already at its brink. And then she blinked, pausing. One beat. Two beats.

"Sorry," she muttered sheepishly, turning her head upwards to look at the person who'd spoken to her. "Just a bit off today," she offered, peering at the face. It wasn't one she recognized, and she squinted at him and the Gryffindor crest on his robes. "Who're you?"

Everly began stacking the books she'd been flipping through, and reshelving them in their appropriate places. It was the least she could do before she decided to burn down the Library.

@Everly Charlton

The dim glow of the library spoke in time, in passed years and calls for rejection rather than words. Not a moment passed before his intended gentle words were met with an irritated reply, once-closed eyes popping open to reveal what could be soft with easier breaths. Upon closer inspection, this girl—the abuser of books, if you will—didn’t appear someone to sink to this level often, though no one could say for sure. With her lip sitting uncomfortably between her teeth, her frame tensed and mellow breaths few and far between, she looked far from happy, and if this were her resting state then help her so. To answer the question the girl posed though: no, happiness was one of the few things she did not radiate.

After wasting no time to lash, though the boy knew the look of a whip sliding from her grasp and it was something no one could take blame for but the curse of the elements, several beats passed in silence between the two. Levi standing awkwardly next to the creaking table, fingers dancing along its surface as to keep time, and the unknown girl blinking, eyeing the damned books as though her parent’s blood was splayed across their leather covers. For a moment, it was tempting to hang by a limp thread to that quiet and reconsider what the undeniable lure to petulance was trying to tell him. Nothing would come of a life wasted pondering and dwelling on dreams, however, so the young lion cleared his throat with an intention to excuse himself.

Before that plead could form, however, she interjected an apology, glints of rage icing over as their eyes met. “You’re fine,” he whispered, breaking the intense staring to pull a chair from under the table and take a careful seat, as though not to disturb an unknowing deer. No explanation was necessary—what else was he to deduce but that there was something off about today? —nonetheless one tumbled from her throat and he could but nod in agreement. “Drakos,” the boy answered, face falling into consideration immediately after. He wasn’t a fan of the formality of last-name introductions, nor the way people gawked in awe at those with just the right syllables and gaped in pity at those born to fatality. Besides, he intended to build bridges over these gaps and not widen them.

“Levi Drakos. And you?” This time, his voice was unwavering with a tad more confidence under it, pillars of certainty whose cracks were not absent, but rather finally concealed beyond the capability of the naked eyes. Not much time would pass before they would float back to the surface, spreading and growing more destructive without a bulletproof heart, but Levi dawdled in the sureness of safety when it came, in a cleansing, pouring rain.

His gaze wandered over to the books being packed into the openings of the shelves, fingers still dancing along the tabletop and his left leg bouncing without a thought. Their covers were masked by her hands or turned opposite him, so all that could be distinguished was either the splendor of their covers or the impressive density of their stories. “What are you reading? Or, not reading, if that suits you.”

@Levi Drakos

Using her hand to flatten the cover of the book, she placed it back down and let out a huff of breath, still trying to figure out what to say without actually looking at the other boy. Words, really, one's biggest weapon, one that she still needed a grasp of how to utilize well, and they failed her at this moment. Her head was turned, eyes shifting across the ground, catching on the sunlight reflecting through the windows. The silence was unbearing, except for the little huffs of breath she exhaled and the low muttering of the people around her. Her lips formed a little o shape as the words danced right on her mouth, eyes scrunched up as she ran over, judging what she was going to say.

Caught up in her thinking, she almost missed his reply, his voice being quieter than she remembered, and then her mind switched topics. A sound scratched her ears, he was pulling out a chair next to her and she slid backwards in her seat slightly, still wary. His name wasn't one she recognized particularly, except probably at the Sorting and maybe around the school. Blinking and chewing on her lip in thought, she shifted her chair, making a squeaky sound as she dragged it on the floor, turning to face the boy who'd spoken to her and meeting his eyes to study his face, her head cocked slightly.

His voice became stronger when he asked her a question, and she paused to take her time to reply, taking this time to narrow her eyes and study him. A confident sort of stature, but not so overwhelming, seeming so sure of his words. In other words, the complete opposite of herself.

Everly paused, hands still resting on the top book's cover, and opened her mouth, as if about to reply. "Everly," she said slowly, still unsure if she wanted to trust him or not. And a part of her still worried if anyone would like her at this school, if she'd make any good friends or not who'd tolerate her crazy mood swings and awkwardness. "My name's Everly Charlton. It's nice to meet you," she offered, shifting her chair to a less weird position as he got comfortable in his position next to her, cautiously as if wary of her. And, honestly, that was probably her fault in the first place.

"Oh.. this stuff?" Gaze shifting quickly, she turned to look at the pile of books, figuring out her answer. "Just... family history stuff. I want to know more about them. Nothing too interesting," she finally settled on. "What are you doing in the library, then?"

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@Everly Charlton

There was an air between the two, a sense of something stronger than themselves and the scent of old books, a clash of confidence and doubt. That was a battle as old as time itself, severity never wavering and a graveyard forming in the ditches of no man’s land. For moments of silence between every exchange, Levi could do nothing but follow her gaze, from the thin dust on the upper shelves to the way the sun’s tender light seemed to sway beyond the windows, all the way back to the books in her own grasp. Their silence, heavy and thick, didn’t seem to torture her the way it did him, didn’t ignite the need to break it and watch it crumble, with fruitless words and regrets. Where his leg bounced and hands managed to find each other, knuckle to palm, the uncomfortable shifting and hesitation that drove her told a different tale.

A weak second came and went, and the Gryffindor boy wondered how genuine the battle was if his role weren’t honest, didn’t come naturally, and while the win would be a victorious one, he took no pleasure in the fight. Nothing he stood for was at stake, it was a poor man’s gamble, an antic attempt at fighting for something. When you could blend with your enemy but not side with them, empathize but be riddled with loathing, who did that make you but a traitor? What did that make this but treason? It was shaken off, but hazel eyes had come in and out of focus, and his efforts to meet eyes were diminished as surely as they’d come.

Her voice snapped him from his thoughts, a game the two seemed to play back and forth. “Everly,” He repeated, smiling in an attempt to be charming—these never went well—and instead bridging on insidious. In a haven for learning, the bugs crawling behind his eyes insisted on making the same mistakes. “Pleasure is all mine.” A bandage on a bullet hole and largely theatric. There was a second, oh so brief but bittersweet, where their energy matched and his weight shifted cautiously, a transient but rather characteristic slip of the mask. To the passerby, it was just two kids and their awkward hellos, textbook and skin-deep.

The girl—Everly—appeared to consider her answer for a moment, weighing options against the back of the book, looking to them for answers to questions Levi had not asked. Regarding her family, specifically, which told him a little and a lot, lips parting in a quiet revelation. Boundaries were but a figment to his young mind, submersed in curiosity and interest in those who were not him, as who else was there to be? He had not yet discovered times of sonder, of such obscure torments, so there was no hesitation between him and his pry bar of a tongue.

“Things you cannot ask them yourself?” An eyebrow raised and no shame under the words. “I assume you’re of wizard descent then.” Levi added with a note of jollity, as though there were not fractured limits in his rearview mirror.

She followed up with a question, a reasonable one. A boy who wandered the library searching for strangers and not answers was perhaps not what she’d become used to in their time at Hogwarts. Truthfully, the lion did crave the burning fuel of knowledge one fled to a library for, sculpting an intellect that would exceed expectations as he knew he was born to do, but the damned quiet, it taunted him. Hushed mumbling from study partners and the hum of an attendant wasn’t enough to keep him sane, to rope him to their world. Today that tease of conversation would win, and wisdom could wait for another day. “I don’t know yet,” He decided, so certain on uncertainty, “Maybe I’ll figure it out.”

@Levi Drakos
October 10th, 2020.
#b76e79
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sta 6 | eva 7 | str 0 | wis 7 | arc 4 | acc 6
seer

The silence was all to confusing, and Everly was tempted to say something just for the sake of trying to figure out why neither of them had bothered to say anything. Something weird was going on, something out of her own hands, and the girl wanted desperately to figure out what was going on. She hated feeling like something was out of her own control, especially at moments like these.

What was going on, really? Everly tried to sit still, she really did, but it seemed that was out of her control too.

This entire thing had turned into a game of chicken.

She distracted herself by counting the books on the shelf, a habit of hers she had no reason to break. When she'd reached the end of the shelf and would have to move to be able to see the rest of the books, she finally turned back around to study his face.

"Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?" she quipped, dragging her fingers lazily the table wood, in an attempt to make conversation. There was a certain lightness to her tone. "It's nice to meet you too, Levi," she offered as a response.

Her hands stilled once his words registered, leaving her a moment to wonder the meaning behind his response. Was there an insult behind the mask of the meaningless words, or was he just curious? Everly had long since come upon those who still had grudges against blood-purist families, and though she didn't judge them, she didn't find it rather fair for the generations that followed.

"I've already asked, and I'm still here," she said stoutly. "Bold of you to assume things," she continued, her words meaningless by this point.

Everly held her ground.

She didn't judge the words that followed, though. The library, for one, was a place that Everly continued to find herself spending plenty of time in since the start of the semester. It seemed as if the world was closing in, and all was left was her and her books.

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@Everly Charlton

Everly’s eyes seemed caught in the hook of the books, lined uniformly on the shelves in a beckoning way, igniting a desire to pull one from the row just to see what was so special, what the leather cover hid and what was so damn worth protecting. Although it was conversation he chased, the soothing connection of another’s presence in a place that left him with nothing but his own trembling thoughts and the thoughts of long-dead authors, it was that very thing that circumvented them so. Between every line there were beats of silence, Levi’s leg bouncing nervously under the table as his hands found each other again, and Everly’s gaze seemingly everywhere but with him.

She couldn’t be blamed. There was nothing amiable about the way the young Gryffindor had approached her, with nothing distinctive or captivating in his words and nothing of any importance to bring to her table of unanswered questions. Awkwardness, oh my how he loathed it so, was the only thing known today, an uncertainty about where the conversation was meant to lead or where it was born in the first place, aside from a sense of unwavering boredom. But upon glancing around, there were other students lingering in their lonesome, just them and their own thoughts and words etched beautifully onto a crumbling page, so why her?

That was something he couldn’t answer himself. Sometimes, in the universe, things happened, spontaneous and impulsive and that just made them more perfect. Perhaps he could only aim to create serendipity, a creature so small and insignificant trying to breed a phenomenon so completely out of his grasp, it was laughable. Until the world said it was time for such a flawless chain of events, and until he could handle it without his knuckles heating red, the boy could marvel in his little victories.

“No, I—” There was a moment after she replied to him that Levi could only appear taken aback, with widening eyes and his leg suddenly frozen in place, heel up. Her tone, light and lacking that certain snarl that washes over with irritation, did not register with the boy all at once. When realization rose to the surface though, that rehearsed justification was quickly silenced with a soft laugh, about as calm as he’d been for the entire duration of their interaction thus far. “Fair enough.”

Levi blinked, leaning forward with his head now tilted slightly to the side. She was hard to read; whether it was his inexperience with others or that ominous sense of timidity that crept into their quiet, he couldn’t say. It had hardly dawned on him that his pry-bar tongue wasn’t flattering or even ethical, but the lion was left with almost no other guesses as to the meaning of her response. Shields had flared up, Everly’s voice solid and steady, and the only conclusion to be kindly drawn was to let the topic verbally fall.

“You’re determined then. Can I assume that?” He teased, a smile on his lips and his demeanor relaxing back into the seat again, content with his train of thought and the schemes being meticulously crafted behind hazel eyes. “I don’t mean to come off as insulting. I’m muggle-born myself, there’s nothing I can do to you that you can’t do twice more to me.”

What kind of unmentionable familial questions was she asking that could only be answered by roaming like a sleuth through century-old records? Records he still couldn’t place, as the covers were facing opposite and now shoved back into slots on the dusty shelves. He made a mental note to try and pull them again once the girl had gone. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so it wasn’t a mystery he would so eagerly forget. To both of their dismay, perhaps.

@Levi Drakos
October 10th, 2020.
#b76e79
──────
sta 6 | eva 7 | str 0 | wis 7 | arc 4 | acc 6
seer

Chin resting on her propped up hand against the wooden table, she listened to his reply with a small smile, the corners of her lips turned up. She kept her gaze, almost prompting him to continue, and when it was apparent that he'd finished, opened her mouth to reply. The eleven year old was no expert on social circumstances, and was by far. Everly could hear the voices of students around and behind her, and she felt the pressure pushing on her. It was weird, trying to keep a conversation going with such long, silent, awkward pauses in between each exchange.

Her hands were growing colder as she shifted in her seat for perhaps the millionth time. Everly was not a fan of the cold. Masking emotions was never a big talent of hers, and she hoped her anxiousness wasn't showing too much through her face and her movements. Neither was reading others'. Everly could only hope that she wasn't making a huge fool out of herself at this moment.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said, amused. It was hard to decide where to place Levi on the scale, and determine what kind of person he was. Of course, she was being no help to that cause, but he at least seemed friendly. "I overreacted there," she admitted with a half-smile. "Where are you from?" she asked, trying to maintain some friendly chit chat.

At the least, she could tell he was curious. To some, such a quest could be seen as foolish or childish. But they weren't Everly - she still wanted to know, even if that knowledge were useless. And who knows, maybe she'd find some super awesome, long lost facts while on her glorious family heritage quest.

Maybe.

If Everly were being honest, she was really at a dead end for her daring quest right now. Her father's family history was pretty much nothing, and her mother could really care less about her family heritage.

But one could only persevere, right?

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@Everly Charlton

Being cold, collected, unempathetic, wasn’t beautiful unless you knew how to slide between those facades. Then it became an art, abstract and, to the general public, little more than a collage of undistinguishable shapes, lined to tell a story never before told. Tension, such as the tension between Levi and Everly that couldn’t be denied in their long, apprehensive pauses, was a weapon, a weak stitch, a loose thread. Every time it came, his leg bounced, hands found each other or the untidy mess of hair that the boy had ruffled more times than he could count. And he watched her, his gaze the only thing resisting the shifts, hoping for a meltdown. It didn’t come; the girl only shifted her weight (does that mean something?), but looked invested in his words, as if they weren’t textbook how-to-talk.

“That’s the only way to take it.” Levi smiled back, much less flattering than Everly’s, the corner of his mouth twitching uncomfortably. Determination was admirable, it was the foundation of many traits he wanted himself, things that could be built from one another. Contrary to his words, however, there was flaw to determination, specks of imperfection, something perhaps unavoidable if not the will of the universe. That fault lies in the question that lingered in their bubble, hazel eyes flickering to the books she’d jammed back into the abysmal gaps: what drove it? Something significant, to encourage someone powerful? Or a purpose riddled by emotion?

Emotion was pretty, an oceanic landscape of simplistic watercolor with still some raw, animalistic appeal. He was human, he knew it well, but it was different in that red hurricane, whether through the lion’s desperation to not be just another or some imbalance. Though by that intrinsic canvas, it was but a splash of various shades of blue, and something anyone could do, and by extension, something the best could master. It could be conquered, and with rehearsal under his belt, hills to the mountain, that was where his determination could be found. He wondered the same of her, hopefully, wishfully, because it was lonely at the top.

Part of Levi was scared to dive too deep into who this girl was, as entropy was only itself in excellence as long as it remained spontaneous. Curiosity, however, bettered him, as emotions often did eleven-year-old children. One day, the boy’s youth and mortality would bleed through again, blood-stained white, and there’d be no option but to decapitate it at its source. Of course, as the wise and foolish said in perfect synchrony, satisfaction would always bring it back.

Her confession, though appreciated, was a prime hunting ground. “No, I have trouble with boundaries now and then. Keep me in check and I’ll owe you.” As much as his life and future, perhaps. Everly’s instinctive snapping was a blessing in careful disguise, a lesson in humanity. It stung at first, but the Gryffindor was willing to zealously look past such a loving bruise, as long as it was fleeting and truly for the greater good. “Glasgow but born in Cyprus,” the boy answered, an openness to his tone, as fake as everything else.

It wouldn’t be revealed so quickly, wondering if it would steal a needed dose of mystery from his unremarkable aura, but he remembered nothing of the island. All the photographs of his parents and their heavenly newborn were thrown out, scrapbooks built as though Scotland was the only home they’d ever known. They told him once of its beaches, such honest and genuine parents, he never dares press the matter. If there was anyone in the sorry world to trust, it was them; no pressure would ever break their backs as long as he had a say. “And yourself?”