Meeting the Monster PV: Howard closed

@Jackson Valentine

Howard had left the Great Hall with head hung low. His shoulders bumped against the throng of students as he pushed his way past the crowd to make his exit. The red of his irises matched the stains on his eye lids and cheeks as bloody tears had dried to his face. The emotions came in waves as fear turned to anger before giving way to depletion. The dark aura would seep through the rips in his armor, pulsating off his body as the pain and rage tore through his chest. Then it would slip away as a deep sadness tugged at his heart. What had started as a demonstration had turned into outpouring of emotion as he bared his soul and confessed his sins. A moment that was meant to to force recognition had turned to failure as he pushed those that would stand with him away. Especially the one he held dearest. It left him feeling raw, broken, and more alone than ever.

However, although Howard thought he had failed perhaps his words had reached at least one. Maybe his display of emotions had touched another soul. Or maybe those that opposed him still had some fight left. He would smell and hear the other first as he stopped and rested his forearm against the wall to gather his strength. Howard turned his head, one blood red eye appearing over his shoulder as he met the gaze of a smaller boy. Behind spectacles his eyes would flash with purpose as he formulated his words. They would carry empathy for Howard’s cause but there was enough in his tone to recognize the disapproval of the Dhampir’s actions.

A sigh would escape Howard’s lips as he mustered up the strength to respond. Usually his emotions would drive him into a passioned argument or light the flames of his notorious temper, but he had little left to give. He would turn to face the underclassmen, his shoulders still slumped under the weight of his own feelings. The younger boy claimed that there were others that would have listened to Howard’s plea, but that his actions had done more to scare than to urge empathy. A flicker of light would dance through his tired eyes.

“What’d I do to scare ‘em, huh? A bit ‘o fire and shoutin’.” His voice was soft, his throat raw. “How do ya think we all feel?” A slight tremble to his words. “So tell me ya little shit,” the insult carried no bite, “what should I have done instead?”

@Howard White

Rather than respond from where he stood, Valentine started a steady advance on the terrifying being that bled from his eye ducts.

He once claimed that he had no fear. It was a lie that he admitted to only one other in private. Like all mortal men, Valentine had fear. He merely differed in his reaction to it. For bravery was nothing without the existence of fear to be surmounted. There was no insanity without the deliberate disregard of fear, going against instinct, against reason, to accomplish what should have been impossible.

For Valentine, the shadow of his fears only served to drive him closer until he wasn't merely a stick figure in the distance. Not a large specimen of his kind, he was dwarfed by Howard's towering height, gained through genetics and age. But from where he stood, he could smell the stench of iron on the Dhampir's cheeks, dribbling down onto his chin.

"We should speak quietly," he began with a leveled tone, taking a backward glance to verify their seclusion from any other human presence before meeting his bloodied gaze from a lower position.

"Yes, shouting scares people. It makes them think they've done something wrong, and if you want them to empathize with you, you don't want to villainize them," he replied calmly, tilting his chin up to get a better angle of the older boy's contorted expression. "And you don't want to villainize yourself."

From his pocket, the younger boy retrieved a small packet of tissue paper. Breaking the plastic packaging, he reached his fingers into the small opening and drew out a single piece for him. Wordlessly, he offered it to the other boy to drain the contents of his tears, which were likely far heavier in density, significance, and symbolism.

"There's a lot of people trying to take advantage of your anger to further their own agendas. I'm not sure what they want, but coercing you into getting yourself into detention isn't doing Dhampir-kind or yourself any favors," he stated neutrally, once again giving his words adequate pause so as to allow them to sink in. "Have you considered that people might be using you for publicity and attention?"

It was a rather brutal truth, one which Kazuo Shimada and himself would eventually come to confirm, but as of the moment, Jackson Valentine only hypothesized it and would be keen to share his views on the matter.

@Jackson Valentine

As the younger boy approached Howard he urged for them to be quiet. A command that would be met with crossed arms and a hard gaze. The Dhampir usually would have snapped back at such a bold statement. He took enough demands from the prefects and professors and the last thing he would normally do was to be bossed around by a first year. Howard opened his mouth to argue, but as his eyes followed the others over his shoulder he chose to stay silent. Perhaps this boy had a point. He surely wasn’t in the mood for further argument and raised voices were bound to attract attention. “Fine. Say what ya come ta say then.” Never to be outdone Howard would make a demand of his own.

The Dhampir’s red eyes would roll at first as the underclassmen scolded him for shouting. However, as he thought back on it he couldn’t deny that the other boy had a point. As he had raged against his opponents it did nothing but cement their opposition against him and eventually drove his supporters from his side. However, Howard couldn’t shake the feeling that if he hadn’t made such a scene that no one would have listened in the first place. They surely didn’t seem to care when they read those derogatory words against Dhampirs. Maybe they needed a slap in the face to open their eyes. It was a complicated situation and brought with it complicated emotions that Howard struggled to process. He truly did want to make a difference for his kind, but when he thought of the injustice all he could feel was anger. The passion was there, but it clouded his mind and obscured his judgment. “Alright, but they gotta listen first. No one’ll take ya serious if ya don’t get in their face ‘bout it, yeah?” Howard wasn’t the best with words, but he did his best to express how he felt.

As the other boy continued Howard would accept his offer of a tissue and begin to wipe at his face. The half dried tears tainted with blood would smear across his pale cheeks as his brow rose in confusion at the underclassmen’s words. He had never considered that people would be trying to take advantage of his outburst. As a straight forward person he had a hard time wrapping his head around the complicated plots of others. What was there to gain from it? Would people really do such things for a moment in the spotlight? “No, what ya talkin’ ‘bout?!” The frustration was clear in Howard’s voice. It should be clear that the underclassmen would have to do the explaining.

@Howard White

Valentine could sense that Howard was holding back. But whether it was from exhaustion, apathy, or from being partially convinced by his words, he still had to tread a careful line. His choice to find the Dhampir when he was most vulnerable and offer himself up with equivalent vulnerability meant that he was in constant danger. One wrong word could trigger an emotional outburst, one which could end in him being mauled. To death, or worse.

Still, he regarded the older boy with a practiced composure. He knew that fear was like a reflection in a mirror. Any heightened emotions he displayed would merely aggravate Howard further. And so unmoved was he, his aura of calm pushing back gently against the Dhampir's raging spirit.

"Fair enough," he conceded to Howard's justification for his outburst. "You've got what you wanted then if that was your intention. If I hadn't taken you seriously, I wouldn't have cared to follow you."

But though it had been his initial reason for causing a scene, Valentine knew that there was more to it than just that. And even if an underlying agenda hadn't initially been there, it was certainly forced upon him the moment his morals were called into question.

"I'm. . . Trying to put this in a way that doesn't make it sound like I'm taking the piss at your friends," he rubbed the back of his head as he strained his mind to come up with a reasonable explanation. "That is if they are your friends? I assumed they were, especially the one who set the papers on fire. That one's mad. And she's in love with you I think. Anyway. . . People encouraging or instigating you into taking any of this personally aren't out to help you. Or maybe they are, but they don't realize that they're hurting more than they're helping. If you argue that Dhampir kind should not be discriminated against in a formal school publication, then there's no way that people can fault you. But if this is going to become about you, your values and what you did on the night that people were mentioning when a girl was attacked, then it's devolved into a character assessment of you. People are turning it personal. The root of the problem isn’t with you, but making yourself look like the problem isn’t doing you any favors."

The boy let out a long sigh. It was a lot to take in, and he didn't expect Howard to immediately understand or even agree with him. Children were born with a sense of unparalleled pride that only grew tempered with failure. Wizards with all their gifts and talents seemed to only be worse in comparison. It was tough to swallow insults on a personal level, and Valentine hoped that the Dhampir would be able to come to terms with his rational side. His gaze softened when he spoke again.

"You look like you've had a rough day, dude. Where are you going? If you're not heading back to your dorm, I can stay with you for a while if it'll help you feel better."

@Jackson Valentine

“Yeah, that’s what I was tryin’ ta do. They needed to hear it.” Howard had truly just started the scene as a way to stand up to the authority and those that were involved in the article. To raise his middle fingers in the air and clap back at those that had wronged him. He was not a young man of words or plots, he was a young man of action. At the time it only made sense to lash out and see what happens. You knock him down, he knocks you back. The eye for an eye mentality that had carried him this far. However, as the scene unfolded it would stir something within him that was much deeper and more meaningful than the simple notion of revenge. “It just...I dunno...got complicated.”

Although the other boy would proceed with caution and warn him that he meant no offense, Howard couldn’t help the flash of anger that came with his words. Yes, some of them were friendly towards him, some were strangers who yearned for their voices to be heard as well, but the girl he spoke of meant more to him than anything. “Oi!” Howard took a step forward, his index finger prodding the smaller boy in the chest. “Don’t you speak of her like that, understand?” There was truth to the other’s words. Falentra was a bit mad and yes she did love him. Their relationship was built around passion and chaos. There was a darkness that flowed through both of them and they often fed off of each other’s desire to explore it. She had of course urged him to take action because she knew he needed to express himself. Perhaps she could be faulted, but he just couldn’t see it that way.

Howard would let his hand fall back to his side as he exhaled deeply. His emotions always got the best of him, but here was someone that was actually willing to listen and offer help. The last thing he needed to do was push aside a potential ally. “Sorry. Just leave her out of it.” He mumbled before listening to the rest of what the underclassmen had to say. Howard’s eyes would squint as he tried to follow along. It kind of made sense not to make this personal and try to see the big picture, but that was a tall order. “How could I not take it personal? The article was ‘bout me! They used my accident to make us all look bad. That’s what they did, innit? If I don’t stand up for myself, how can I for all of us?”

Howard would look back over his shoulder as the other boy asked where he was going. The stairs at the end of the corridor would lead one floor up to the Hufflepuff dormitories. “Yeah, alright.” He agreed to the company and turned to walk in that direction. “So, if I ain’t supposed to take that shit personal, what should I have done? What would you have done, huh? Someone writin’ shit like that ‘bout you?” Howard would challenge, but he was also interested in what the other boy had to say. It would take a lot of convincing, but with persistence the underclassmen just might break through. “Oh, what’s yer name anyways? I’m Howard.”

@Howard White

Howard's willingness to confide with the younger boy ensured that the interaction would not go amiss. Valentine was already beginning to feel more comfortable when he responded with open-minded dejection. Dejected or not, it was always easier to talk to someone who wasn't blinded by their own opinions.

As such, when Howard suddenly turned offended by his comment about Falentra, a knowing smile graced his lips, one that he was usually hard-pressed to display.

"I didn't mean it as an insult," he replied with a smirk. "Crazy isn't such a bad thing. Crazy means she's confident enough to be who she is. It's the ones who are always unfazed that you need to worry about. Nothing moves them because they put up a front that they want you to see, and you never really know what they're thinking."

Valentine knew in part that this very characteristic was attributed to himself. Yet, he felt not a twinge of guilt for his hypocrisy. It was only through his understanding of others that he had learned to understand himself better, that he had unlocked the full potential of his mind by controlling his emotions. It allowed him to read people, just as how he had read and determined that Howard White was not merely a screaming brute. Pain was something the first year saw daily. Emotional pain mostly, and quite recently, physical pain. Perhaps this older boy would be willing to share some of the stories of his pain in time. But for now, Jackson Valentine settled with what he could do to ease the pain he felt then. The invitation to express what he would have done in that situation was a welcome one.

"That is the problem, exactly. That the headliner has taken a sensitive topic and turned it into a personal attack and a broad racial statement. They've made it personal, so if you want to convince people that you're right, you don't want to make it even more personal. You want to set the standards for them. Do you get what I mean?"

He definitely felt that he was clearer in his explanation this time, but he had far more to add.

"It's not good to dwell on the past. What's been done has been done. We can't change what happened that evening in the Great Hall. We can only move forward and try to be better."

He didn't understand the situation well enough to assume that this wasn't Howard's best option to get the attention of people who could help him. Maybe when they knew each other better, the older boy would be willing to divulge some of his feelings and thoughts.

"Well, what you want is for the Headliner to st0p the publication of articles that discriminate against minority races, correct? If so, we have to talk to someone at the office and try to reason with them. That is going to be hard, considering. . . I haven't seen what you've done to it, but those old Headliner papers weren't just lying in some Professor's pigeon hole. I saw Phaedra storming off in a rage. She isn't going to be happy because of what you did, but I'll try to talk to her."

At this point, Howard had pointed him in the direction of the Hufflepuff dormitories. And so he walked. With a gradual shift of his body, he initiated a side-by-side stroll that would gradually lead them to the staircase as their conversation progressed. The act of walking would soothe agitated nerves, he surmised.

If Howard doesn't follow.

He turned slowly to his side, just as it looked as if he was going to start walking away from Howard. In the same motion, he returned to face the older boy, smoothly transitioning his rejected invitation to walk into an idle movement.

If Howard follows & continuing from if Howard doesn't follow.

It was then that Howard inquired his name.

"Jackson Valentine," he replied. There was a time when he had grown shameful of it, but that had merely been a teenage phase. He could care far less what people called him now. Jackson? Valentine? Rare Fish? Names were just callsigns attributed to his face. When he was gone, only his actions would be remembered. "Try not to cause any more trouble, okay? Lots of people are rooting for you, myself included. I'll get back to you in a few days on what Phaedra says when I talk to her about obligatory censorship."

@Jackson Valentine

The corner of Howard’s mouth would raise into a smirk as the other boy explained what he meant by calling Falentra mad. It was interesting to compare crazy with confidence, something she surely didn’t lack. It reminded him of that sparkle that would flash through her eye every time she was passionate about something. Howard couldn’t disagree with the underclassmen’s assessment of other types of people. He himself had lived behind that mask of normalcy for most of his life and only in the last few years had he found the strength to break free from it. Being his true self came with its consequences, but at least it was honest and that was something Howard had come to treasure most with other people. “Alright, I see what ya mean.”

The Dhampir’s eyes would squint again in concentration as he did his best to keep up. It was still and probably always would be very hard for him to remove his personal feelings from something that he was so directly involved in. Howard’s emotions were such a driving force in his life. They fueled him and guided his actions, how could it be possible to push that down? He had of course seen others accomplish the feat, but to him it always felt like lying or deception. Hiding from what you felt was to be untruthful, but perhaps he just wasn’t seeing it in the right light. “I think I follow, but it don’t feel right. I gotta be honest ‘bout how I feel, yeah? I mean, I see what yer sayin’ ‘bout keepin’ my cool, but if I don’t tell people how I feel, how am I gonna convince ‘em?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” Howard agreed that his main focus was to try and stop the paper from publishing discriminating articles. His face would hardened a touch when the other boy mentioned talking to the people at the paper directly. He had exhausted most of his emotion earlier, but that wouldn’t stop him from feeling the anger. However, as he thought back on the vandalism and demonstration he would also still feel the failure. It was very confusing, but maybe it was time to try a different approach. “I dunno man. Don’t think they’ll listen, but if you wanna try...go for it I guess.”

At that point the pair had walked together towards the Hufflepuff common room. “Alright then, Jackson. Knock yer socks off.” Howard didn’t know what obligatory censorship meant nor did he have much faith in Jackson’s plan, but it did feel nice to have some support. “And no promises.” He said with a bit of a smile. Trouble and the Dhampir went hand and hand.