Trouble from Above PV

Late. Late late LATE.

How could he have been so foolish as to be distracted by a discarded scone? Even voice knew better than that, even voice knew that you had to be out of the way when the worlds started to shift again, forming and reforming. If he found himself unwittingly in the world of light and had to find his way back? What then? He didn't have a portal handy, he'd probably have to hurt someone severely, create a forced rift, an impossible paradox to rend the veil.

It was a scramble that sent him to the top of the bookshelf, a clumsy scramble. It was a roll that sent him on top, a clumsy roll. It was foolishness that caused him to dust himself off. Just. Foolishness.

Sure enough, an exclamation rang out from below. He had been caught, that much was obvious. But he did still have the high ground, he had the advantage here, or at least enough of an advantage to maybe convince the person below that they didn't want to interact? That never worked.

Kaegen leaned over the edge of the bookshelf, tired, dead eyes peering from the emaciated face. A corpse on a bookshelf, the monster of hogwarts in the library. A thought ran through Kaegen's mind. He had ways of dealing with attackers in crowded places, ways of dealing with aggressors that belonged in the darkness. He could sync their purpose with that of the lightworlders, give them a goal common enough to be hijacked by those in the light, those who preferred nonlethal force, those who were easier to escape. A forced alignment shift, a winning edge.

But maybe he wouldn't need it. The face below him was vaguely familiar, wasn't it? Oh, right, their name was fallen?

"I know you. Type B, Liar?"

He paused for a moment, shifting a little further back so that only his eyes and tangled, shaggy black hair was visible, hanging like a veil of tendrils over his face.

"Trying again? You'll lose."

@Kaegen Deathmote

A shadowed figure peered over the edge of the bookshelf. Only eyes were visible behind the dark strands of hair. Falentra couldn’t help but feel she knew those unusual features. If it was who she thought it was, things could turn ugly.

Not long after followed the same voice which spoke words she didn’t understand. It wasn’t a foreign language but like words to a riddle, or some sort of mind game– which brought her to the conclusion of this being only one person. Kaegen Deathmote. It couldn’t have been anyone else. He apparently knew her for starters, which not many did personally. But to top it off, he called her a liar. The hell was he saying? She was no a lair. If anything, she would probably cause less hassle with everyone if she kept her blunt, gobby mouth shut. So to hear this really boiled her blood.
Her mouth opened, about to shout out once more. If she decided to talk now, her tone was to be that of a more serious, angered one. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue in a situation like this but with this Ravenclaw... she knew that how she spoke, how she acted, had its consequences. She had to choose her words carefully this time around.

The Slytherin decided to respond with a playful smirk. It was a false one at that, to cover up the irritation that hid beneath. “Kaegen? Is that you?” She asked, her false tone played out as a curious one.

The boy really knew how to get to her. He continued on with what was nonsense to her. Most of it went straight over her head, but it was the ‘Liar’, and the ‘you'll loose’as if they had fought before. “What are you doin’ up there sayin’ such things, eh? Why don’t you come down and say that to my face?” By now her body had stiffened and her fists had clenched. As much as she tried to cover up her real emotions, anger was the one she struggled most with, especially with him. She couldn’t stand playing mind games, or at least the ones she though he was playing with her.

The idea that his words could be infuriating to someone who didn't like liars at the best of times was not something that really touched Kaegen's mind. He called her a liar because she was a liar, it was no different than her calling him Kaegen, which she had, in a weird questioning way. Who else could it be, who here at hogwarts could possibly pass as him?

Voice, the gnarled dungeon rat, peered out of the folds in Kaegen's robe where they had been hiding, looking down at falentra along with their friend, Kaegen, with little black beady rat eyes. Eyes that seemed almost unnaturally intelligent, eyes that seemed appraising, rather than cold. Voice had picked up on Kaegen's suspicion and caution, and had emulated.

He didn't respond to her questioning his identity, merely raised an eyebrow in incredulity. If she didn't know who he was, that was all the better. He certainly wasn't going to verify it, who knows why she could be trying to get him to say that, who knows what was going on in her mind, what plans were brewing.

The eyebrows fell moments later. Was that her master plan, just tell him to go down there so she could fight him? Kaegen's voice would would raspy and hoarse as ever, but also tired, and maybe exasperated. Just a little bit.

"Is that it? The best you can do? I can speak to your face fine from here."

Empathy, understanding, basic feelings that helped someone find friends, keep friends, grow as a human being. Where were they, even? Mostly trampled underfoot by fear and hate, cast aside, ignored in a dark corner of Kaegen's twisting mind. He could not recognize the hurt in the girl below him, could not recognize the hate. He could only recognize danger, and smell just a little bit of it on the air.

But he had the advantage, he had the plans, the plans for the plans, the plans incase all of those plans went awry. He had courage, the courage and raw bravery it took to hide behind a bookcase. He would walk out of this victorious. A XX 1-C wasn't going to prevent that.

@Kaegen Deathmote

This boy. He really, really did get to her. The pure fact that he never got triggered by anything or that he showed no emotion whatsoever pissed her off, big time. She wasn't used to dealing with people like this. Even if they acted mature in a situation and didn't bite. They still gave away some sort of emotion whether it was through words or actions, she always had something to go off, but here... Kaegen showed her nothing. Not an ounce of personality. She had nothing to use against him.

It was sad really. If she put aside their negative interactions recently and thought back to when they had initially met for the first time ever, she would remember that he was somewhat timid and kind. What the hell had gone wrong since? For now, she had no interest in trying to figure that out or reattempt at being nice. She was over that, she felt stupid and weak for thinking he remembered her. It was probably the main reason she held so much rage towards him, for not recognizing her.

The trail of thoughts would snap and her eyes would flicker up to the figure that still lurked within the shadows. His monotone voice echoed down again, her matching tone soon to follow. ''Yeah. Right.'' Her breathing would quicken as she tried her best to keep her cool and stay on level with his own tone. She should have know that wasn't possible. Her angry always, always, got the better of her. ''Funny you say that whilst you hide up there in the shadows. You a coward or summat?''

She wanted a fight. It didn't have to be violent, or maybe it did. It was her last attempt at trying to get some sort of emotion out of him. So she could understand him to some degree. If the Kaegen she knew was still somewhere or if he had gone forever. Taking a few steps back, she would lean back against the table, her hands gripping the the edges firmly. The situation had gone from 0-100 in seconds. It didn't need to be, but in Falentras case, people shouldn't be surprised.

A place that was one of the more peaceful of places had now become Falentras imaginary boxing ring. ''Fight me!''

Calling someone a coward. What an interesting thing to do. Being called a coward, and having a subsequently adverse reaction, stemmed from your brain's refusal to accept a reality where it is not strong, where it is not the main character. You step up to fight because your subjective existence as someone powerful has been threatened. You haven't just been insulted, your whole reality has been threatened by a very real danger.

So, what, then, was Kaegen's response going to be. How was he to face someone who had just attempted to destroy the reality he had built up around him? Well, by not reacting, not caring, not giving the comment the time of day. Kaegen knew he was a coward. He knew that because he had to deal with the fear every day, he knew that because he also knew that it was that fear that kept him alive. He was a coward because it was the smart thing to do. He was a coward because it prevented him from descending the bookshelf.

"Does that actually work on people?"

The same hoarse monotone, the same dead, fish eyes that promised no emotion, no humanity. It was as though the soul had faded, the life had dimmed. It was just a puppet, controlled by a monster in the shape of a little boy, peering down from a bookshelf with the company of a pet rat that very clearly hadn't been bought at any proper store. Her words hadn't touched him, her adrenaline may have gone from 0-100, but Kaegen's had remained the same. He had a good angle. The second she touched her wand, his head would simply vanish from sight.

She could try a spell like incendio, but in the library? That was grounds for expulsion. No one who wanted to remain at hogwarts was stupid enough to try something like that. And even if she did, there were plenty of people to hide behind, plenty of shelves. He was in a good place, and she? Well, she was trying to lure him out with a smelly boot. He wasn't taking the bait.

"I think..."

She had just told him to come down and fight. To 'fight me'. This didn't surprise him. He knew that it had been her goal to do this from the start. From that very first encounter, she had tried to get close. And now she was running out of time, desperate to fight? Maybe someone was hiring her, a poor man's assassin.

"...That this. It's sad, right?"

The words said this, this situation, these circumstances. But the dead marble eyes said you. You're sad, you're failing, you can't touch me, or my emotions, or my soul. They were looking right at her, accusing, almost. He had fought so much, survived so much. This? Her? It was an emotion that could be best summed up with sad.