A deathwitch calls PV Erin Ryan Closed

She was in her hiding hole, that was what she called it even if everyone knew that she was hiding there. Erin was not the most subtle, but that was a symptom of her madness. Where most slept in their bunk, beneath their blanket, Erin wedged herself beneath. There was something instinctually comforting about the cave she had made for herself. A lack of vulnerability, where most of her peers left their soft underbellies exposed, Erin would remain in wait.

She left her peers alone for the most part. There were no symptoms of death witches in this cabin, she knew because she was watching intently. The darkness did not flitter, the slugs were restless. There was no stink, the stink of death and ruin that they hid under a garland. Her rock buddy also stood watch, as round as unassuming as ever, he endured the hours when consciousness escaped the part-Veela.

Erin would receive a letter, she never got those. Not from her brother Geoffrey or her father, not her biological or her legal mother, not from friends or acquaintances. So when one was delivered she would not trust its contents.

"Erin, you have a letter," a faceless NPC would announce leaving the letter at the edge of the bed on the floor where light meets dark. Their purpose over, the faceless NPC would depart and not waste word count space.

Erin's rock friend would roll out into the light and land on the folded bit of paper where it would be left to linger like an odd, unassuming paperweight. Nothing would happen, there would be no change in the letter or the stone.
Erin would shimmy her way out from under the bed, she would not allow the alien letter to be dragged into the safe confines of her cave. The only intruder she would allow is the insistent presence of her adjacent bunkmate @Evelynn Depicito. She would sniff the letter without touching, it smelled like paper. She could not identify any strong, specific scents b but her sense of smell was rather average. Of paper, of human oils so faint they were indiscernible to her human senses.
The last two test were impossible to perform. She frowned at the notion as she opened the letter:

Dear Erin Ryan,

You and I have unfinished business to take care of, as well as many questions to answer. I'm sure you won't hesitate to miss the chance to get answers from a "deathwitch" too, considering you're determined to destroy my very existence. Behind the phoenix cabin is an unused path, follow it until you come across a stream, from there you will see me. Be there at 7PM, don't be late...

~G

Well, she was not entirely sure who G was, but who was she to deny an invitation to destroy a deathwitch. She would pocket her stone, yes she was bringing her greatest ally "Rock-friend" as she called them with her. Not one to metagame, Erin did not have a plot-convenient scimitar in her bag that would somehow escape the scrutiny of the Professors and adjunct staff. that was not how this worked. She had not suddenly become a prodigal wizard in the weeks since the end of the school year and the start of camp.

In truth, she did not think she stood a fair chance but who said anything about playing fair? She would comply with the letter of the request. The phoenix cabin, an unused path. An isolated little space near a stream. Not the site of a dalliance but rather a confrontation.

She would come with nothing more than herself and "rock friend", of course her wand. There was nothing interesting to discuss regarding attire, a white tank, a pair of blue jean shorts, no shoes. Blonde hair left down, finger combed and still wet. In one hand, her rock and in the other nothing. The wand, her wand she would place in the upper branches of a rowan at the start of the path.

Fear did not slow her but caution had. She was not here to rush to death. She would follow the path, having told none. There was nobody to follow. Nobody to tell. The meandering path would lead to a creek. She would tighten her grip on "rock friend", the edges still smooth. "G?" That was what he called himself even if the Slytherin had another name. "What do you want liar?"

Interacting with @Erin Ryan

A smile... a smile crept into the corner of Gray's lips when Erin Ryan spoke up behind him. For a brief moment, he didn't reply, but instead slowly began to fold up his newspaper neatly "Come on Erin, I'm surprised you haven't caught on yet" he remarked, placing the newspaper neatly in his pocket and rotating his body to face the estranged girl. It would have been a lie to say he was surprised to see her here, but at least he knew what kind of things triggered her inner curiosity.

Gray stared up to her silently in thought, his two hands resting peacefully on his lap to show he wasn't going to reach for his wand at any point. From the looks of things, she did as instructed and even dressed up decently for the occasion. Other than her hair, which made it look like she had been walking for a rainstorm.

"You know what Erin, maybe you're right about me being a liar. " he started off with, a small sigh escaping his lips as he loosens up his body "I've said a few lies in my lifetime, some of which have gotten me into hot water. I'm not proud of them by any means. Nor should you be..." the prefect said with a colder tone, the glare of his blue eyes staring deep into her soul. For a while now Percy had seen a big difference in how she acted. It was unnatural and inhuman, oceans apart from when he first saw her. As far as he knew, Erin Ryan had changed for the worst.

"You haven't exactly been truthful yourself, have you Erin?" he questioned, his head tilting slightly to the right, a brief smirk cross his lips again "Your unprovoked attack at the ball has made me pick up on a few things about you, especially your relentless crusade against deathwitches. Tell me, what drives you to go after them? are they really that much of a threat? or is it the fact you're afraid of those that go against your fanatic ideology?"

This was a scene taken out of a campy hero movie. That moment where the hero or in this case heroine would come upon the evil mastermind and with their back turned to both the hero and the camera they would greet the hero with upmost confidence. Instead of a pet cat on his lap that the villain would slowly stroke, Percival had a newspaper that he may or may not have been stroking.

"Come on Erin, I'm surprised you haven't caught on yet"

She halted in her tracks, her eyes fixed on his hands. What were they doing? What were they reaching for? "Caught onto what?" She was looking for his wand, his source of power. Percival, like most Prefects unsettled her. She had fished her rock friend out of her pocket, her long, thin fingers wrapped around the simple, cool, rounded companion. Her fingers would shift, as if she was attempting to knead the unyielding stone.

"I've said a few lies in my lifetime, some of which have gotten me into hot water. I'm not proud of them by any means. Nor should you be..."

"I am not proud of you being a liar," she took his statement literally. Why would she take pride in the near-stranger's lies? That would be like taking pleasure in a stranger's gluttony. She frowned, "why am I here?"

"You haven't exactly been truthful yourself, have you Erin?"

"I think I would notice if I was lying," she protested. She was a lot of things, most of them pretty bad, but she did not consider herself a liar. Most of what she said was not good

"Your unprovoked attack at the ball has made me pick up on a few things about you, especially your relentless crusade against deathwitches. Tell me, what drives you to go after them? are they really that much of a threat? or is it the fact you're afraid of those that go against your fanatic ideology?"

She would chuck rock friend at Percival. She had the arm of a luchador rather than a pitcher but if he was not careful, the rock would still leave a mighty bruise. Just a bruise. Nothing less, nothing more if it made impact. If it missed, it would still sail close enough and bounce off the stony ground.

"I don't dislike you," she admitted. She would sit down where she stood abruptly. "So you should stay over there," she indicated. Distance was good, preferable. She recalled his scent - such sweet meat. She would sit Indian-style in the dirt, her hands on her knees but her hands appeared tense. Her hands would grip the hem on her shorts with this white-knuckled grip.

If he decided to approach, she would repeat I don't dislike you so you should stay over there. Her voice snappish, almost agitated. If he asked why, she would say he smells like sweet meat." She would attempt to scramble away, a goal of 3 meters minimum. She would repeat the phrase exactly once again I don't dislike you so you should stay over there. She was hungry, she had not eaten that day and she would not eat until she knew what was waiting for her here. Perhaps a mistake.

"I am not crazy," she claimed. An exaggerated series of blinks. "I just have a head full of slugs," she complained. "Wiggling and worming, talking chittering and telling me tales. No space to think, no quiet, just noise." She would try to concentrate, to 'behave.' "Rock friend says you are not them," she added. She trusted rock friend because "they did not know how to lie, they only knew how to be. They always were all round and rolling, all round and rolling until they were no longer round. When they pricked and jabbed, when they changed when they were near." Her hands tugged at the cloth of her shirt with quiet agitation.

"No pierce, no ire... you're fine but the whispers say you're bad. That I hunger but refuse to take, to bite," but it gnaws and it rumbles. "You really should run away before I become your friend." Her voice quavered a bit, but things were shifting, screaming. There was too much noise, it was leaving her bleary-eyed. "But not to the trees, never run to the trees... not on the darkest of nights," she warned. "They will take you to the roots and your bone will become limb and gnarled trunk and you will be forgotten... Always forgotten. I remember because of the rats."

Interacting with @Erin Ryan

Instead of words, a rock suddenly came flying at him with speed, leaving him no chance to move out the way. All Gray could do was turn to his side and brace the blow using his shoulder, forcing him to let out a yell and put a wand to his wand in preparation for an attack. Something of which never came.

He glared intently at Erin as she sat down on the floor, stating that she didn't dislike him but should keep his distance. Percival hesitantly took his grip off the wand in his pocket and raised it to his arm, grunting slightly from the rock that had fallen close to his right foot. Keeping note, he carefully moved rock friend onto a small patch of dirt close to the log so he knew which one she threw "I'll think about it..." he said sternly as she continued, moving onto something that would truly bring the cat out of the bag.

"I am not crazy, I just have a head full of slugs,Wiggling and worming, talking chittering and telling me tales. No space to think, no quiet, just noise. Rock friend says you are not them,they did not know how to lie, they only knew how to be. They always were all round and rolling, all round and rolling until they were no longer round. When they pricked and jabbed, when they changed when they were near." she explained, almost leave Percival speechless from what he just heard.

Her wordplay was spoken in riddles, yet what she said was enough to realise something stark. The stones, rock friend, it all made sense now. When the teachers first mentioned about the hags setting up camp nearby, he decided to go to the library and read more into the mysterious world of hags. The book "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection" states that hags have the power to turn stones into ragged and sharp weapons, as long as they are in the area. He didn't want to believe it, but her behavior and the way she acts were also pointing in the same direction.

If that didn't indicate things, her hunger certainly did. The vile creatures were known to eat children and the fact she kept on complaining about it before him only made things worse for her case "No pierce, no ire... you're fine but the whispers say you're bad. That I hunger but refuse to take, to bite, You really should run away before I become your friend. But not to the trees, never run to the trees... not on the darkest of nights, They will take you to the roots and your bone will become limb and gnarled trunk and you will be forgotten... Always forgotten. I remember because of the rats." Erin added, giving a direct link to the hags that had set up operations in the forest.

Throughout her speech, Gray couldn't help but have a sense of unease and shock. How did he not see the signs? how did no one else spot the symptoms? was he the only that knew what Erin Ryan really was?

Shuffling on his log he momentarily looked at Erin in silence, expressionless and unsure of how to react. Although, unexpectedly a small smirk snapped into the corner of his lips "You're a hag aren't you?" Gray said, straight to the point with his thoughts "The hunger... rockfriend... the hags in the forest... the way you act, it all makes sense now" he muttered, while his face turned into one of cold malice that stared into the very soul of the so called hag "I don't how it happened or why, but you need to tell me right now what they did to make you into this monster" Gray urged, before slowly picking up her beloved rock friend and examining it in his hands "I'm not your "meal" Erin, I'm a housemate trying to find answers to your misery. Cosúil leis an méid a dúirt an cara carraig, ní mise do namhaid..."

Rock friend had done his job well. He had assessed the potential threat, the potential death witch and he said that Percival was fine, that he was safe. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she made herself comfortable on the ground. Rock friend was content near Percival, keeping an eye on him, keeping the both of them safe. A silent sentinel, unyielding and unbiased. Rock friend knew a great many truths and it would behoove the part-Veela to listen.

Percival was catching on, almost. The stones did not change in accordance to the active will of hag but rather their twisted, deranged presence. They were often drawn to desolate regions with bleak and oppressive landscapes, such as the Forbidden Forest that lines a portion of Hogwart's perimeter. Yet it was unlikely that they were native to the forest, meaning that they came there for a reason. That would require the work of a particularly powerful hag or being that would pollute the environment and make the setting more habitable for their coven and spawn.

Their fell magic and foul nature would make the world around them twist in accordance to their malevolent nature. The land itself would become hostile, trees and vines attacking and dragging off passersby and fog turning the air toxic while concealing sinkholes and quicksand. In areas where great hags resided, vermin were more frequent, animals were more aggressive towards intruders, and strange figurines, fetishes, and dolls were known to magically appear. On once clear paths, a route of sharpened, jagged stone.

"You're a hag aren't you?"

"No," she replied. "Rockfriend knows I am not, all rolling and round..." she would fish out a second rockfriend. 'Other Rockfriend' she dubbed Ruka's gift to her. She would hold the rock up for Percival to see. The rock was, well a plain grey rock not unlike the ones that would be found on the ground. If there was a face or googly eyes (ask Elesio) they would be intact, as if she had taken good care of her newest ally.

Either Rockfriend was a habitual liar or she was not a hag.

"The hunger... rockfriend... the hags in the forest... the way you act, it all makes sense now"

He looked angry, she knew the look. The cold gaze, the stiff posture, the tightly clenched jaw. She should stand. She should prepare to fight, prepare to run. She shook her head. No fighting, he was not one of them she reasoned. She was trying, but every fiber of her being screamed at her -- to lunge at him. To take him to the ground. She was strong enough, she could easily overpower him. There was a stream, there was a stone. His death would not be gentle or merciful but it would be assured. No questions, no risk, no pursuit. Just a mass of sweet meat. Her stomach rumbled, she yearned for a bite but she would deny herself the pleasure.

Percival is a person, not a picnic.

Percival was not wrong even if she refused to admit it, calling the ladies of the dungeons 'crones' rather than 'hags.' The fact that she was changing, becoming one of them. That Kaegen's 'deathwitches' those nebulous entities that she screeched about endlessly for years were likely the other coven, an expression of her fear that was both intrinsic as she knew somewhere deep down the terrible pact that she had made. The dangers they posed. That they were the cause, and that she was associated with their dark nature and that she had allowed them to persist. The problem with realizing things this far is that the mind was too broken, an obsession to get them back. That those she allied with were 'good'. A way to psychologically cope with the terrible things she was in part accountable for.

"I don't how it happened or why, but you need to tell me right now what they did to make you into this monster"

She shook her head back and forth. She could not. "I should be offended?" There was the inflection of a question. He had called her "--a monster, yes." Feelings were irrelevant even if they were the source. "I am full of slugs and they chomp and they wiggle and they move, they speak and they scream. They know... They change... they do," she repeated with fresh words what she had told him before.

The brain likes to lie -- to make promises it could never keep. That things would be different. That she would be the exception. That they were the exception. But the opportunity to tell herself these same lies over and over again had dwindled. He had made it apparent in his word choice that she was not 'safe', that she was a 'monster.'

The slimey, wiggling, writhing creatures in her head would scream yet again -- RUN!

"I'm not your "meal" Erin, I'm a housemate trying to find answers to your misery. Cosúil leis an méid a dúirt an cara carraig, ní mise do namhaid..."

"I know, that is why you stay there," she reminded him. "One day that might change." She would rise, stand on her two feet. She had to make a decision -- sate the voracious hunger, eliminate the threat or.. run. She chose the later. She would turn, look back at the woodland path she had followed to find him and she would flee.

Erin attempts to run away/leave topic

Interacting with @Erin Ryan

Looking down at his hand Percival stared at the ordinary stone named rockfriend, examining the object with little interest as Erin answered his questions "No," the girl said back "Rockfriend knows I am not, all rolling and round..." she added, making Percival raise an eyebrow as he diverted his attention to her. Something told him that she wasn't bluffing, maybe she wasn't a hag, not right now anyway. If she was, Erin would have had him for dinner by now. That only meant one thing, the actions, and strange behavior were only symptoms of what was to come.

His next question only proved his theory further, leaving him to frown slightly as she said "I am full of slugs and they chomp and they wiggle and they move, they speak and they scream. They know... They change... they do,". The way Erin said it made it as if she was suffering, not only physically but deep inside. She probably repeated the phrase to make sure he got the message, or to prove that she was turning into the very thing she was fighting.

Percival glared worryingly into her eyes as she responded to his last piece of curiosity, his grip tightening around the smooth edges of rockfriend ""I know, that is why you stay there," she reminded him. "One day that might change." Erin stated before suddenly rising to her feet and turning back to the path, beginning to leave Percival behind in a hurry. Gray didn't dare follow the estranged house mate, instead, he stayed where he was and watched her leave with a troubled look across his face "Let's hope that day never arrives, Erin Ryan..." he said openly as she began to go out of view, leaving him alone with the pet rock she threw at him. Glaring at the grey rock once more, he carefully slid it into his pocket and began to walk back up the path, solemn to the core from what he just heard.