5 Jan 2021, 10:01
Branching Out
Completing from his first year of Wizarding School had led to many an alteration in Pericles' young life. Not only was he overwhelmed with experiences, his first learnings of magic and first friends, but his home life had changed with the tide. His responsibilities had grown, but so too had his privileges. Among them was a rather old and dear Dralt ritual: the sharing of the familial book. It was a regal antique, this great black tome, bearing chapter after chapter on the lives and exploits of his predecessors. Intriguing though it may be, it was at its core a stuffy thing which weighed heavily upon the importance of the Dralt male heirs. It didn't divulge the maiden names- let alone rich histories- of each woman who had married into the line. Of course, the more recent Dralt gentlemen had amended this, and at last the book carried details on each Lady. But there were a few intriguing peculiarities which Pericles could appreciate about what he liked to call "Darius' man map". This consisted of the first two pages of the book itself. Interwoven with extraordinary magics millenia ago, the depiction of a familial tree had many a wondrous feature. For example, when an heir fathered their next-in-line, his name grew up the trunk and sprouted as a branch of its own. Even more interestingly, when a member of the extended family passed away, a small, sad-looking rose sprouted from somewhere on their name scroll. Though there were no pictures, the names shimmered as if shifting in a pool of water. It was a beautiful thing, this scroll-bedecked tree. It almost seemed to breathe if one stared for long enough.
Pericles was presently in the process of reading the righthand names. There was, of course, a leftmost half to this tree. But we will talk all about that on another day. Something especially interesting was awaiting Pericles at the end of this branch. There, at the very bottom, was a name which rang a bell.He'd known an Opeila S-Something, but distinctly recalled Opeila Winters. They were one and the same; it had been changed, and he hadn't known her well enough to understand nor ask why. They were but Blossom Ball coordinators, bound by a secret (foolhardy) pact to throw an [illegal event for the school. They had spoken little, discussing nothing outside of coordination. The boy balked. To think they had such detached, fleeting, passing encounters. Now there she was in the book of his forefathers, all alone, like some vulnerable low-hanging fruit, surrounded by rose-marked names. A dead branch which- without her, and the mysterious "Nicholas"- would one day disappear altogether. He struggled to swallow the concept of what he was perceiving. He reread the names, recertified their roses, as though they had perhaps been a smudge or misinterpretation. Eyes wide and darting, Peri lapsed into a stunned state before snatching up the ancient book- with gloved hands, mind- and darting down the hall.
His father's study was propped ajar. With Lady Dralt attending business out of the country, he complained that the house had a sort of emptiness to it, so the sound of his son's fast approach was both an oddity and welcome irregularity. When Pericles burst into the room, he was to be found with spidery fingers dancing over an odd contraption, something which looked to be a series of overlapping microscopes which his heir could scarcely put a name to. "Finished so soon with your studies?" Dralt drawled in an amused tone that seemed to say instead, distracted already? "No-" the boy blurted breathlessly; he was conflicted, residing between excitement and uncertainty, "-no, they've just begun. I've made a miraculous discovery!" And so he sat, father abandoning his project to humor his son, watching him enthuse over the idea that he not only met but attended school with a distant relative. This did not seem to surprise the elder Dralt, who pointed out the limited pool of pure-blood heritage. Their ancestors had gone to great lengths in finding suitable spouses who were not some far-off ken. Pericles was counting on one hand, then the other, concluding confusedly, "That would make her my... third cousin, I should think?" A leonine smirk lingered on Isaac's thin lips as he turned towards his work, sounding patient as he glazed over the calculation to offer, "Write her family. We will see about organizing some manner of reunion, perhaps in the spring or summer." At that, the heir held out the map once more, pressing at an urgent near-whisper: "I can't."
The tone was enough to secure Isaac's attention fully. His ghost of a grin was exorcised as he followed along the branch, considering each name, each morose rose. Among all the scrolls wavering with a hint of magic, Nicholas' name was stagnant, unmoving: that of a muggle. The book had been designed in a time when its original owner believed not a single twig of his family would marry a muggle, and now the tome didn't seem to know what to do with one. Was he deceased, and it had simply forgotten to offer him a rose? Did it not recognize him due to the lack of magic in his blood? There was a pressingly present possibility that Opeila Winters was, in fact, alone. The Dralts were a deeply family-oriented folk. Speramus in Sanguinem was their motto: We Trust in the Blood. Family came before all else, before friends and lovers. No matter how far she may be from they on the tree, distanced by many a name, she was still essentially blood. Pericles could see in his father's eyes that the patriarch was at last absorbing precisely why he had been so riled up. He had a telltale quirk, a flex of the jaw, as though he were physically trying to chew through a tough thought. At last he murmured "Write your friend, lamb. Inform her that she is welcome whenever she cares to visit." Peri didn't have the time or patience to explain they weren't all that well acquainted, a fact that was sure to make this all the more awkward. Or, perhaps, it would be a boon. If he hadn't made any sort of an impression, then there was always room to make a positive one now.
The letter was jittery. Pericles knew it, but it simply could not be helped. He had never had family his age. It was something he had always wanted for, though he didn't dare admit it, content to convince himself and his family that he was satisfied with his lot in life. How should he behave? Would this matter to his "third cousin"? Would she even care, what with how incredibly far apart they were on that tree? What would it mean? Unlike her, he was no seer. Pericles had no hope of even gleaning what the results of his letter might be. He could only hope, as he sent the family owl soaring off into the snowy air, that this might be the start of something new.DECEMBER 30TH
Dear Opeila,
This letter might seem strange, as we've only spoken very briefly before, though the reason for my writing is more bizarre than you may believe. I was recently entrusted with access to an old book. It contains the history of my ancestors, as well as an enchanted family tree. At the top of this tree, I found that my great-great grandmother Evangeline had a sister: Sandra. Sandra had a daughter named Margary, who then had a daughter named Fioria. I assure you that the familiar sequence of these names is no coincidence, as at the very bottom of this branch, is you.
I apologize if this seems far-fetched, or even unbelievable, and I hope it doesn't seem silly that I would very much like to honor this relation, no matter how distant it may seem. I regret that I don't know what importance the Stones, Cranes, or Seiluns placed on these ties, but to we Dralts, they mean an awful lot. My father would like you to know that you are welcome in our home at any time. We will be away tomorrow, but if you might consider visiting us between now and the end of the holiday, we will be home again on the first. If not, I should hope to see you at school.
Wishing you a Happy New Year,
Reducio
Thanks Pei for this map!Relations
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
5 Jan 2021, 22:56
Branching Out
Opeila had not expected an owl this morning. Actually, the young Slytherin didn't expect any owls at all anymore. Quick notes passed on by another student, owls at odd times of the day because someone was unwilling to search the school for her, yes, but never morning post. That did not happen at all anymore, since Lady Margary was gone. But there it was, the bird, landed on the table, next to her plate and held out its leg, to which a letter was tied. At first the Slytherin thought that the owl was mistaken- who would possibly write her? But when the owl started to screech loudly after minute still not having been relieved of the letter, Opeila changed her mind. Maybe she knew the person who it was meant for, she would just give it to them personally.@Pericles Dralt
Sighing, the Slytherin detached the letter from the owls leg. "You got lost, hm? Well, who were you supposed to find..." Opeila looked at the back of the envelope, her expression frozen for a moment. That was actually her name. Confused she looked at the owl. "Or you didn't get lost after all... Who are you coming from then?" The owl ignored her. Not that the bird would have been able to answer if it wanted to, but it actually looked like it was still pouting about Opeila taking so long. After stealing a cereal from a bowl nearby, the bird took off again.
For a while, Opeila just stared at the envelope. She didn't know the handwriting. Her heart was pounding with a terrible suspicion. Was she found? Would she get blackmailed to go somewhere again? Another night in a cave? Chills went through Opeila's body at the memory. A whole night she had been forced to spend in that cave, expecting death with every noise, screaming until her voice cracked. All because someone knew that Flash was a weakness to use against her. And he hadn't been there.
Was this description how to get to her next personal horror?
Opeila closed her eyes and shook her head. She was being irrational and panicking and needed to calm down again. As long as she didn't know more, this was only a letter and her situation wouldn't change by ignoring it.
Cold fingers opened the envelope and pulled the letter out of it. No murder message, thank heavens. A letter signed with the name of a fellow student, Pericles Dralt. Opeila faintly remembered that name from the planning team of the blossom ball last year. After that, they had not spoken another word. And now there was a letter from the same boy, telling her... what even? The second year had skipped to the signature first.
The further she read, the deeper became her frown. Pericles Dralt was supposed to be her cousin? Was that even possible? Sure it was. Lady Margary had barely ever spoken to Opeila about her past, her own family. It hadn't mattered. They had all been cut off, when Margary helped her daughter with her squib child flee from her husband and also had to leave her own for it. It was a story Opeila got to read in a letter, while sitting in the car her father took her to the portkey with.
But if they were direct family... Were they used by Ravensburg to lure her out of Hogwarts? Out of the safety of Taika, out of the Winter's reach and out of Hogwarts as well? Wouldn't that be convenient...
Trap. It's a trap. Trap... Her mind spun in circles. She couldn't risk following this invitation. It was too dangerous. Surely Lady Margary would have told her the same, if she was still there.
Opeila was already folding the letter again to stuff it back into the envelope and throw it into the Slytherin fireplace later on, when something came into her mind. It was almost ridiculous, but it made Opeila hesitate. The reversed Page of Swords indicates you may soon be dealing with some unexpected conflict or be given a message you weren't expected. Neither is necessarily a bad thing, but take a few minutes to think before you respond. Mysterious sounding words, spoken by a girl Opeila didn't know over a set of tarot cards.
Was this the unexpected message that Alina meant? Did the reading try to warn her not to decide over this so lightly? Opeila took out the letter again, to read through it, find something, anything, that could convince her that this was no trap. And she actually found something. If not, I should hope to see you at school. Now, she could of course test him.
If he never came, she might have avoided getting killed. But if she was honest, she didn't want to test him. She would go. Opeila would take the risk and even allow herself to hope.
As if the decision flipped a switch, her heart started to pound again and a high little laughter found its way out of her throat. Was it possible that she was not alone? That she was not the only one she had left in the world? The thought of not being alone felt as if a rock was lifted from her chest. At the same time the fear of it being a trick in the end became a cold block of ice in her stomach. She would hope. She would only hope, there was nothing more she could do.
Quickly the Slytherin finished her breakfast and then hurried down to her common room to get some paper. Now what was she to reply? What did one say to family she had never met, who wanted to meet her? How did they even find her now? How was she in this book, her grandmother and mother fled long before she was born? How would they even know about her?
After half an hour, she had something written that looked relatively well. The bin next to her was full with bad attempts.
Opeila was excited. No, excited was an underexaggeration. She would go to visit family. Family. All sorts of feelings seemed to bubble up in her, until the second year pressed one hand on her mouth, laughing, while the tears ran down her face. Opeila didn't know these people. She had no idea what their expectations were, she would probably also be unable to meet them at all. She knew all that.DECEMBER 30TH
Dear Pericles,
I was as surprised as I was pleased to receive your letter this morning. How odd is it that we go to the same school for one and a half years now and never knew we were related. Margary was my grandmother and Fioria my mother, who both surprisingly deceased last summer.
The more it excites me to hear, that I still have family. If my great-grandmother Sandra was the sister of one of your relatives, there was a seer in your line, as you might know, Sandra's and Evangeline's mother. This gene went on in my part of the family, skipping every other generation to then be passed on to a female. It skipped my mother, but I have it again.
May I ask- Are you a seer as well? I only know how the gene was passed on in my family, but of course it has to be in yours as well. Are there any seers in the Dralt family?
I have to admit that I never got the chance to place importance on family ties, as I was never told about them. My grandmother and mother broke with the family traditions long before I was born and I was cut off from my family other than my parents and grandmother, but as it is now, I am more than happy about every connection there is. Thank you for your invitation, I will gladly accept it. As the Hogwarts Express returns to Hogwarts on the third, I suggest that I visit you on the first? I hope that is no problem.
A Happy New Year to you and your family as well,
But right now, Opeila was just a lost child, who sensed that she had been found.
27 Jan 2021, 09:05
Branching Out
It was with intense anticipation that Pericles awaited their owl's return. He spent the better half of the day distracted, gazing out windows, dwelling on the discovery. It wasn't until Isaac intervened- "Give her time. She may not reply in the same day." - that he was jostled from his fixation. Still, while the boy tried to resume habits of normality, his thoughts strayed ever back to the book and its implications. When Falathiel returned, Pericles abandoned the pruning he'd been up to in the greenhouse and raced inside. She had alighted Isaac's shoulder empty-taloned, albeit with a bit of cereal stuck to her beak, for which the lord was gently chiding her. No news, only "...ruining your supper, my pet." The disappointed heir dragged himself back outdoors.@Opeila Winters
But the day would not end without another answer from Opeila. When the unfamiliar owl arrived, Pericles was seated at the dinner table, halfheartedly pushing haggis around his plate. The fork fell with a clatter as he gladly snatched up the envelope. Needless to say, he hardly had to be pardoned from the table. By the time he hurried downstairs again, a letter of his own in hand, Isaac was reading the after-dinner papers. The lord looked over the top of the Prophet, taking in the sight of Pericles wide-eyed and waiting, wordless. After a moment's mute conversation, he gestured with one bony finger towards Falathiel's stand. "Ask her, then." Peri's thanks came in the form of a broad smile. The great-horned owl had napped off her earlier trip and continued to doze atop a pole of polished manzanita. He woke her with a soft stroke to the top of her head, and when those yellow eyes cracked open, he bid tenderly: "Please, Fala? Just one more trip."
The response returned in the shape of a little parcel, wrapped around a marked vial containing a single dose of Floo Powder. No doubt, it was a favorable indication of what the letter was to say.Short, simple, to the point. There was so much more to be said in person, thoughts and questions that grew to a din in the coming days. The thirty-first was a grand gala, exhausting, but fulfilling in its own way. Pericles slept into the first, recovering from New Years night, only to wake with a start at midday. It was nearly time to greet their guest. The carved slate fireplace was cleared, ready to welcome Opeila into a grand entry room. Dark wooden walls braced with white pillars, tiled marble floor split down the center by a crimson carpet, two-story tall arching windows (though these were currently curtained, and tightly so). The room was enormous, rug reaching from a pair of large doors to an elegant stairwell, its balustrade ending in the heads of wooden serpents clutching glass balls between their fangs. All was illuminated by a chandelier dripping with beads of crystal, with complimentary light cast by lanterns on the walls.DECEMBER 30TH
Dear Opeila,
The news was just as much a surprise to me. Granted, pureblood pools tended to be tight-knit in the time of our great-great-great grandparents, but it's easy to lose track of far-off family over generations. I'm so sorry to read about your mother and grandmother, though I'm grateful to have found your name in our book. There is a seer in our branch of the tree, too, but she's an exception to how tight-knit we try to remain. I don't know if you'll have a chance to meet her. Still, a visit on the first would be no trouble at all. Most of my family is abroad, but my father and I would be happy to have you.
Looking forward to seeing you soon,
More interesting than the centuries-old architecture were the portraits of those who once resided there. A portly fellow in armor proudly polished an ornate greatsword. A captain stood poised at the helm of a ship, smiling bravely though the sky churned with ominous clouds behind her. Witches and wizards brandished their wands, waltzed through depictions of this very room, prepared to delve into crumbling ruins, rode horses and hippogriffs through their neighboring pictures. The manor radiated history, though there was otherwise an odd stillness to it. No servants, no light from the outside allowed to trickle in. It was sealed and silent like a tomb. Pericles had settled into the seating area around the fireplace, propped against the armrest of a large couch. He was trying to read An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, though this was evidently not as engaging as he'd hope it might be, for his eyelids drooped and eyes struggled to follow sentences. He set the book aside and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes, only to leap to his feet with a sudden start as a green flame erupted in the hearth.
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
1 Feb 2021, 20:24
Branching Out
@Pericles Dralt
Pericles' response came sooner than Opeila expected, together with a vial containing something called floo powder. While the Slytherin was more familiar with the wizarding world than she used to be, she had no clue what it was or how to use it. She could guess though, that it was probably a means to travel, as his letter suggested as well.
So later in the day, the twelve year old was walking down the main alley of Hogsmeade- with professor's permission of course- to the pub from which she would travel to Dralt's. Her schoolbag was emptied and now worked as bag for clothes and items she needed with her for the few days she would be gone. Opeila couldn't even quite say what she was feeling when she entered the pub.
For over a year, she had walked past this boy, even sat in the same classes with him, and all this time she had no idea that he was her cousin.
Opeila had earlier on asked a housemate about floo powder and was now fairly certain that she knew how to use it, though she had to say she was nervous. What if she didn't speak clear enough? What if something went wrong and she ended up somewhere else?
Her heart was pounding when she stepped into the fireplace. Lord and Lady Winter would strangle her if they knew how she was violating her grandmother's bidding, but somehow imagining Elora Winter's angry face made her want to go through with this even more.
That's the control you have over me.
"Plymouth, Dralt's!" Opeila dropped the powder, green flames surrounded her and the pub disappeared in front of her eyes.
Next thing she knew was that the weird feeling of traveling through the fireplaces was gone. Opeila lost her balance and fell out of the fireplace she landed in, pressing her grey cat tightly against her body. Floo powder. I hate this. The Slytherin rubbed the back of her head that hit the floor and sat up, letting go of her cat. Opeila had landed in a huge room with dark walls, the walls covered with portraits. Finally her gaze found the boy, who looked like he had just jumped up from a chair behind him.
Opeila felt her face heat up, embarassed by her inelegant arrival and quickly she got off the ground. "Um...Hi.", she said. Opeila was entirely unsure how to react to this situation. She just looked at her classmate, unable to connect him to the word cousin in her mind.
18 Mar 2021, 05:56
Branching Out
With a whoosh of green flame, Pericles had snapped from a sleepy state to one of buzzing attentiveness. His heart leapt in his chest as Opeila fell from the fireplace, cat in her arm and hand at her head. Rounded eyes took in both, and in that moment, the reality of the situation caught up to him. It had seemed such a strange happenstance, something so beyond the norm that even an eclectic soul like himself had yet to believe it fully. Here she was, real as could be and true as the ink which spelled out her name. The stunned silence was broken by her little hello. At that, a sudden smile began to bloom brightly, quirking Peri's mouth up higher on one side than the other. They were, for a moment, simply two children trying to come to terms with an incredible improbability. "Hi," he managed to breathe back, then quickly came to his senses and held out his hand, nearly whispering "are you two alright?"@Opeila Winters
The portraits made a muted ruckus over Opeila's entrance, their volume carrying weakly as if they were farther away than they appeared, though this was to the benefit of the manor's denizens. The armored gent exclaimed boisterously before banging greatsword to shield, calling "Attention! Attention!" yet his fellow paintings gave him none. The ship captain shadowed her eyes with a hand, squinting across the entryway before fixing a spyglass on the newly arrived witch. A herd of riders looped the room- to the distress of each frame they passed through- their hounds baying as though Opeila were a fox whose trail they followed. One painting in particular acted aside from his neighbors. His backdrop was a misty wood, trees and foliage framing a pale man in earth traveler's garb. He had the same strange pallor as Pericles, with white hair and silvery eyes, save his face was rounder and his eyes slightly slanted. They fixed on the arrival before going narrow. Rather than join the ruckus, he rose from the stump on which he'd been perched before turning towards the treeline, within which he disappeared from sight. He would not resurface nearby. Motion flurried along the walls while Pericles stood stock still, palm extended in unspoken apology for the transportation method she had been led to utilize.
Despite the excitement along the walls and the alert heir, they were thus far alone. Pericles promptly went on to justify this; it was irregular for a pureblood's home to seem so understaffed in the presence of a guest. "I-" the boy blurted, "well, I am sorry for the short notice, and the absence of, ah, everyone else. Father sent the staff home for the holiday, my mother and sister are out of the country, and he'll be resting 'til this afternoon. It'll be you and I for awhile, if that's alright, only... please don't think it is due to no one being excited about your arrival." His smile was contrite. It was out of decorum to not meet such an occasion with great fanfare, so the situation was nerve-wracking for a number of reasons, though the lad added on a less anxious note: "Because, you see, we really are. Oh...." Assuming Opeila on her feet again by then, Pericles turned towards the lounge on which he'd sat. Alongside it, flickering in the light of a blue-flamed candelabra, was an open book. The very tome which Darius Dralt had commissioned with a bloodline enchantment was waiting for her perusal, opened to the page bearing the name of Opeila and her many flower-marked ancestors. The Dralts were a rather slim tree, with many lone children looped in simply to sustain their dead-end line through the shipping House's name. There were so few remaining. It may, in part, explain the great anticipation with which she was welcomed. Nerves and enthusiasm alike subsided as Pericles gestured towards it. His tone became vaguely tentative as he muttered, "I supposed you might like to see some proof."
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
21 Apr 2021, 20:13
Branching Out
@Pericles Dralt
The little girl had been relatively calm, using floo powder had actually almost excited her more than the knowledge that she would visit the possibly last family members she had on this very day. Instead there had been... almost a bit of fear at the thought? Maybe her subconscious had suppressed it, rather than allowing her to truly realize it. The first letter had been a lot for Opeila to take, after that... She had been fine. It had been just as present and real as the potions exam in summer, which she was dreading but trying not to think about.
Now, sitting on the ground, the Slytherin realized what had truly been happening. She hadn't been calm. She had been wary. After everything that happened, she hadn't been able to just believe that there might be someone looking out for her. In spite of her first resolution, she hadn't allowed herself to get her hopes up.
Her general tension maximised when the two classmates stared at one another, almost as if they were seeing each other for the first time. Opeila certainly felt like she was and she was still unable to tell for sure who she was looking at.
Her family was split in two halves. The one that was trying to protect and hide her and the one that was trying to kill her. Which half did Pericles belong to? Or... If he had been telling the truth in his letters, it was entirely possible that the Dralts had no clue about Opeila's family conflict. If so- had she just pulled them into all of this...
Opeila examined the boy's expression, looked for something that was off, unsuccessfully.
And then he smiled, a real smile, and came over to help her up. Hesitating for only a little moment, Opeila took his hand. "Y-Yes", the Slytherin answered his question, quickly checking on her cat. Loras seemed fine, although still a little intimidated by the entirely unfamiliar way of traveling. "Yes, we're both fine. Thanks." The noise coming from the paintings on the walls almost swallowed her words. Opeila was used to paintings, but... most of the ones she had met preferred to be left alone and be in silence. Or they were grumpy and rude. This was new.
Pericles quickly apologized and explained the absence of staff and family and assured her that they were excited for her arrival, causing Opeila to look at him in surprise. "Oh that's... That's fine. Don't worry." And suddenly she worried. The Ravenclaw seemed so excited, while she was comparatively calm. Did she seem bored? Was she being rude? That was far from her intention. Opeila cleared her throat. "Thank you for inviting me." She sent him a tentative smile.
And then Pericles turned to the book he had apparently been looking at until her arrival, that was supposed to contain proof of their relation. Hesitantly Opeila came closer, almost a bit scared of what she would find.
A tree. With names. "Is that..." She lifted her right hand to follow one of the branches with her finger, letting her finger hover a few inches above the page. The Slytherin didn't dare to touch the book. It looked very old, as it probably was.
"Lady Margary..." A name with a rose on top of it. The name Fioria below, as well with a rose. Maybell... another rose. And Nicholas. No flower, just like her own name below. It wasn't hard to guess the meaning of the rose and Opeila's hands started to tremble a little. He was still out there... Somewhere...
And there was another name next to Lady Margary, that did not have a rose on it. Dorian Crane. Opeila stared at it, fascinated. There wasn't a reason for it, but she had always thought that her grandfather was dead. She had never even heard his name, no one had ever mentioned him.
Opeila lifted her head and looked at Pericles. "Do... Do you know him?", she asked, her finger hovering over Dorian's name. If Opeila understood it correctly, he had married into the family, no direct relative of the Dralts. But was there a chance...?
6 Jul 2021, 23:50
Branching Out
In that initial rush of narrowly withheld shock and awkwardness, the duo seemed so caught up in their concerns, so worried about what the other may think. Pericles fretted internally over what to do next: was he meant to take up the standard hostly duties, or act as he would when spending time with a friend at school? Neither necessarily seemed to be the right choice. Perhaps, if he could find the middle mark between the two.... If Opeila earnestly did not mind being stuck alone with him awhile, that was a great deal of worry already off of his shoulders. He resolved that it may prove easier to speak, anyhow, without adults fussing over them. Her words helped to quell some of his uncertainties. Pericles would insist in turn, "Thank you for coming." With the way he emphasized it, smiling knowingly, it was apparent that he would not have blamed Opeila for deciding against such an obscure invitation. "I know this all seems... strange." There was a need for validity, of that he was sure; Pericles would have been equally eager to see proof. He brought her to the book with a gesture.@Opeila Winters
No matter how immersed in magic the lad's life had been, there was no denying a sense of wonder in that moment. The portraits continued to clamor quietly, their muted ruckus falling away as background noise. If one watched carefully, each rose drooping morosely from the names of the deceased seemed to sway in an illusory wind, the leaves of their family tree rustling without sound. For a moment, Pericles became fixated on her expression, watching for the satisfying signs of someone connecting the dots. It wasn't until several seconds later that he recalled this to be rather rude, and instead considered her kitten, before eventually forcing his focus to wander the room. A subtle, discouraging shake of the head was sent towards a particular portrait, where a duo of distant aunties pointed and whispered with one another. The restless attempt at providing her space was put to a blessed end when Opeila asked if he knew Dorian. At that, he stepped in close, shoulder to shoulder so he may squint fruitlessly. Where had he left his glasses? Ah, it hardly mattered, not when he knew the answer already. "I'm afraid I don't, as I haven't met anyone from your branch of the tree, aside from yourself. I'm sorry..." he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, maybe the nerves rolling between them in waves, "But if you're looking for him, I could always ask my father if he'd be willing to host a ah, 'family reunion'?"
Pericles second-guessed the words too late. They had already been spoken, no going back on the ignorant offer now. Were they not close? The question seemed to imply as much, but what if he was wrong? Did she want to see the man, or did she want to avoid him? She had whispered Lady Margery's name, too. Was it safe to ask if they were close...? She had only been here for a matter of seconds! Before the offer of uniting lost relatives could sit in the air too long, he hastily tacked on another offer, something to turn the topic in the chance that the question caused her uncertainty. Pericles quietly commented, "I could take your bags." An awkward pause as he fumbled with remembering how to communicate like a regular wizard, then, "To your room, I mean. Not take them. We have a guest suite prepared where we could set your things, at least, until you're certain you'd like to stay the night."
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
22 Jul 2021, 12:15
Branching Out
@Pericles Dralt
Now she was being rude, surely. She could see Pericles staring at her, then at her cat and finally at the portraits around while she was tracking down her family line, but she simply couldn't take her eyes off the book just yet. Opeila never had much of a family, only her mother, grandmother and father. And now they were all gone, leaving Opeila with no one left, or so she had thought. The book in front of her said differently. There were names such as Dorian and Pericles that were connected to her, some of them were distant, but definitely connected. Different feelings were bubbling up inside the second year, making her swallow.
She was pulled out of her trance-like state when Pericles told her he had never met anyone from her line but could ask his father to host a family reunion. For a second, just a second Opeila wanted to say yes. Her grandfather. The man Lady Margary had lived with. Her grandmother had loved her so much and if she lived with that man, that meant he would love her too, didn't it?
Except that Lady Margary ran away and left him behind. That man was from a different world, a world where there was no space for muggles or witches with muggle blood such as herself. "That is very nice of you, thank you for the offer. But I erm... I can't." Opeila cleared her throat and finally took a step back from the book. Lady Margary would have told her to make that decision, she was sure of it.
After another moment of silence, Pericles offered to take her bags, only to specify that he meant to take them to her room, as if he was scared that the Slytherin might think he intended to steal her bags. Opeila smiled and nodded. "That would be great, thanks." She crouched down and picked up her cat. "So erm... how were your vacations so far?", she asked the Ravenclaw, hoping not to be too awkward. She remembered him mentioning that he had been away from home in his letter.