Fettered Learning PV Selim Complete

That was logic she could not deny, even if there was a nagging part of her that knew in truth there was never a time when she was treasured. That was the difference between Selim and herself. It was a farce, from the start. A lie she readily accepted because she desperately desired that aspect of humanity that has always been denied her. She let out a breath of air and lied, "the same" she agreed. It was envy that drove her, a want for what they had. The festering resentment and discontent for what he had, what they all had and took for granted.

Take a breath and know. Know the difference, take in his scent. Consume with a gluttonous desire to take on the features that made him, made them desirable. Some would consider such to be ingestion, but more like a disease. An infection. To be changed, to be more like. To break and to build. Tight in her grip, she would take in his scent.

...old meat.

Tired, and aged, greying and feeble. Undesirable and unwanted. Jack preferred trash, the broken and the dengernate. The unwanted and unlovable. She would relinquish her hold, her own stomach feeling queasy from the protracted embrace.

"Likely the only blessing I get from that fact is that it keeps away unsavoury creatures that love the taste of innocent souls."

He was not wrong, there was no want to bite into his soul for whatever that was worth. There was nothing that drew her to him, a fate that he wanted. "Shame I cannot find such simple satisfaction," she commented. The want to be alone, a stated lie from him because she could see plainly the envy he had for Holmwood. She saw Selim as similar in most regards, less the fact that even rot was preferred to her. A bruise on already battered pride.

She would tug at the bandages on her hands beneath her long sleeves and slide a pair of gloves over. The edges of her lips tugged in cadence. "Surely," she muttered blinking thrice as she looked down at the floor. At the flicker, the thread and shook the illusion away. The walls were up, her better senses taking charge. She could point out that -- if he tried to push Jack away, then what does he care that he was replaced? She didn't, a selfish truth she would keep to herself.

He was inching towards the door, she could see it plainly. She did not want to keep him. Bind him. Eat him. Date him. No, she felt like she shrank a bit. "You can leave," she answered. Was that what he was waiting for? A dismissal. She turned away and cracked her jaw, the pain soothed her as she felt the bones grind over one another. The snap and the grating noise, simple reminders. "I'll find him. You'll find him... Whichever. Whatever." She did not have it. Not really, not anymore. The ambition and want. The drive and the power that came with it, she gave a dismissive wave. "Today... another day, does not even matter."

Everything was getting sloppy, messy and it was not pretty. Selim, the picture of stability was a poor comparison to the sallow girl. Neither were right and both had their own demons to contend with. The ache between her eyes was starting to grow once again, she scowled and let out a rumbling noise that reverberated from her throat that was aimed at nothing. No spector, no illusion, no monstrosity trapped in the vile trappings of her mind.

She needed to get away, to the dark and the cold. To the lonesome and the deep. Also, she hungered for the vile, but for now people were not food.

"Dark souls often wear white." - Pratik Khandagale

Selim watched as the girl left, suddenly apathetic, and uncaring. Her words were met with no response. His apparent put-togetherness was a front, of course. Inside his mind was complete chaos, as usual, only a faint part of him was in control.

When she was far away, he finally moved.

He let out a long, low breath, eyes growing dark with an unknown emotion. His eyes scanned his surrounding, and he walked out of the door, peering down the hall cautiously. There was an odd, calculating light in his gaze. Slowly, he crept down the corridor, the opposite way from where civilization was.

Deeper and deeper he went, twisting turns making everything seem like a labyrinth. Then, he paused. Leaning against the wall was a wide piece of what seemed to be plywood, it seemed old, sagging with moisture, dotted with mould, and partially covered in moss.

He had found it in the dungeons.

He moved the wood, crawling inside a gap in the wall. Then, he emerged in an old jail cell.

Around him, there seemed to be a small setup. A makeshift table consisting of a few desks, some knives, a box of dried food, and two oil lanterns. There was a sack of scraps of metal, cloth, and other things he had weaselled from classrooms.

Lighting the lanterns with matches, and the candles he had brought, he sat down at another two desks covered in papers with various diagrams, some depicting humans, half-formed werewolves, and showing diagrams of the various sentient species in the wizarding world.

Grabbing a quill after placing down the oil lamp, he began to add to one particular diagram, writing down what was on his mind.

And there, Selim Faust worked, until his unstable mind one day, could not.