21 Jan 2022, 12:58
Concurrence
10 December 2021
After lunch
An arm full of books, Dee stopped in front of one of the many hallway windows, her eyes drawn to the landscape outside. It was freezing out, a think blanket of snow transforming the Hogwarts grounds into a magical winter wonderland, soft snow caps covering trees and roofs, the way it somehow seemed to happen every year, even when the rest of Great Britain was a wet, dreary grey. For a moment, Dee wondered if there was some kind of weather magic at work, making sure that the castle and its surroundings were the perfect image of what winter should look like. Perhaps she could ask a professor about it. The lake was frozen over, too, the same way it had been when Ruka had organised his hockey game last year. That had been fun, not least because her team had won, with Dee herself scoring the winning point. Too bad... too bad that Ruka wasn't here anymore.
The corners of her mouth tugging downward slightly, unhappy, Dee turned from the window and resumed her path to the next class. She missed Ruka. Being around him had made life seem easy, she'd been able to share things with him that she didn't know how to share with anyone else. And then he'd left the school.
Sighing, Dealla shifted her books from one arm to the other. So there wouldn't be a hockey game this winter, she supposed. Bummer. Honestly, she could have used something like it. She had become a bit of a recluse lately - by her standards, anyway. Meaning she still led her team in duelling practices, still participated in the school newspaper, and did all her prefect-y duties, talked to people in class and during meals, but when was the last time she had socialised just for fun? How many errands had she skipped lately because they weren't as important as duelling or homework? Even more, when was the last time she had organised something fun? That had used to be her forte.
Lost in thought, Dee's steps had slowed to another stop, eyes on the ground, when suddenly her head snapped up. Did Ruka's absence have to mean there wouldn't be a hockey game? She remembered the rules - at least the parts that had concerned her, and the fact that goalies had for some unfair reason been allowed to cast spells. She could rope people into helping her, this sounded exactly like what she needed. In fact, she knew the perfect person to ask.
A rush of excitement flooded her, and she started moving again, her steps speeding up until she was jogging down the corridor, books still precariously wrapped in her arms. After all, those rules about running in the hallways only held power over those not part of the chosen few with a silver shimmering P pinned onto their robes.
Weaving between other students when she got closer to the classroom, Dee scampered through the door closely ahead of a Hufflepuff, and then, ignoring her usual seat, slipped into a chair next to one specific boy.
Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, hair slightly tousled, and she set her books down onto the desk. "Flash! Hi," she addressed him, grinning. "I need your help." A pause for dramatic effect. "Will you help me?"
@Flash Holmwood
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
24 Jan 2022, 18:49
Concurrence
It would be an understatement to say Flash was going through a lot. Partly resigned to his fate, partly investigating fruitlessly, he would live the daily pain of an insomniac with no relief in sight. He no longer took part in activities, no longer got together with friends for an enjoyable afternoon. At the beginning of the year he had still be attempting normalcy, but as it wore on, he admitted to his short comings. Now, it was all he could do to stay awake and keep his grades up. He could hardly figure why his grades even mattered anymore, besides the fact that it might protect him from future harm to be knowledgeable. Might.
Entering his Charms class early, he'd take the same seat he always did. Near the front, so that Professor Fresnel's loud, exuberant voice might keep him alert. It was just another day creeping towards the winter break, a vacation for most. Flash was not planning on returning home to see the family members he was avoiding. Instead, he had been meticulously planning on how to get rid of Victor Moore. Normal, healthy actions of a totally sane young man. In the frustration building from his inability to change his own fate, he decided to lash out at his dormmate who had tenuous connections to the hag that cursed him. If he succeeded, maybe his suffering would end, maybe his friends would be more safe. Maybe nothing would change.
It was in the stupor of his intense man pain that his concentration would be abruptly shocked back into the present. A voice called his name, much too loudly, and asked for his help. Startled with a small jump, Flash would whip his head to the offender's direction, a scowl unavoidable. It was Dealla, someone he respected greatly yet had little to no familiarity with. She was much like him, someone with natural authority that saw fit to demonstrate it on the aimless masses as they sought direction. They had little occasion to become closer, after putting together the Masquerade the year before, they rarely saw one another. They simply traveled in different groups, lived in different places.
"Oh... it's you." Flash muttered, less polite and well spoken than he normally was. "That depends. What is it. Why are you asking?"
A brusqueness unbecoming of a lovely gentleman, Flash would also be well aware that there was only a short amount of time before class started. He was always early, at least ten minutes minimum, but he would hate to stand out amongst his peers as someone who didn't respect the rules of the classroom.
Entering his Charms class early, he'd take the same seat he always did. Near the front, so that Professor Fresnel's loud, exuberant voice might keep him alert. It was just another day creeping towards the winter break, a vacation for most. Flash was not planning on returning home to see the family members he was avoiding. Instead, he had been meticulously planning on how to get rid of Victor Moore. Normal, healthy actions of a totally sane young man. In the frustration building from his inability to change his own fate, he decided to lash out at his dormmate who had tenuous connections to the hag that cursed him. If he succeeded, maybe his suffering would end, maybe his friends would be more safe. Maybe nothing would change.
It was in the stupor of his intense man pain that his concentration would be abruptly shocked back into the present. A voice called his name, much too loudly, and asked for his help. Startled with a small jump, Flash would whip his head to the offender's direction, a scowl unavoidable. It was Dealla, someone he respected greatly yet had little to no familiarity with. She was much like him, someone with natural authority that saw fit to demonstrate it on the aimless masses as they sought direction. They had little occasion to become closer, after putting together the Masquerade the year before, they rarely saw one another. They simply traveled in different groups, lived in different places.
"Oh... it's you." Flash muttered, less polite and well spoken than he normally was. "That depends. What is it. Why are you asking?"
A brusqueness unbecoming of a lovely gentleman, Flash would also be well aware that there was only a short amount of time before class started. He was always early, at least ten minutes minimum, but he would hate to stand out amongst his peers as someone who didn't respect the rules of the classroom.
@Dealla Prince
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
4 Feb 2022, 22:49
Concurrence
In her rush of excitement, Dee might have just kept talking, not even realising how uncharacteristic Flash's reaction was. She'd gotten to know him as someone polite and smooth, and a muttered "Oh, it's you" was not a normal greeting for him, but that was not of enough importance in face of her fantastic plans to break her momentum.
However, not even Dee was oblivious enough not to notice some of the more obvious changes. Like, say, the fact that his eyes were two different colours. Het- heterochrome? Heterochromia? Hetero- something like that, wasn't that what you called this phenomenon? Either way, Dee was pretty sure she would have noticed if Flash's eyes had been like that before. Like, at least 90% certain. Make that 95%.
Thrown, Dealla paused, cocking her head while she examined him more closely. Nope, definitely, that brown eye was new. Magic did a lot of things, but she'd never heard of spontaneously changing eye colours, except if he was a metamorphmagus and she didn't know about it. "Are you wearing a contact lens?" she burst out, curious about the change, even while she started noticing more details. She did have an eye for those, assuming she bothered to look.
Flash had always looked kind of... polished to her. Neat and tidy, in a way that showed he took care of his appearance. No skewed uniform, no crinkles or stains. Perhaps that was why they had never gotten closer, he was too smooth, their contact slipping and sliding, never gaining traction. There were flaws in that now. Not that he was messy, but... disheveled was maybe a good word for it. Her eyebrows went up, up, and she frowned slightly. "Did you oversleep today or something?" That was usually the explanation if Dee looked a little more messy than usual, but Flash seemed like the type who would have used their lunch break to fix this. Also, why would he sacrificed time to put in a single contact lens?
A little mystery, a little intrigue. Flash had never really drawn her interest before, but this was cause to look closer. Click, click went her fingernails on the table, lost in thought, then she finally remembered why she was even here. "Oh! Right, uh. I was thinking it might be fun to organise another hockey game, like Ruka did last year? When we indisputably proved how superior our team was." Or something like that. "I wanted to ask if you're interested in helping with that. Since we already know we do a good job organising events together."
@Flash Holmwood
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
11 Feb 2022, 13:49
Concurrence
Dee's expression would change, but her enthusiasm would not. She questioned him about his eye, something he rarely was given the opportunity to forget. There was no greater disgrace than having the consequences of his violent ordeal on full display for anyone to comment on. The answer would vary greatly depending on who was asking, but he did not lie. Besides the convenient lie of omission, he never lied. In this instance, he would rub his eyes uncomfortably, trying not to scowl at her for what was in truth an innocent question.
"No. One of my eyes was replaced." He'd say, his voice low with latent irritation.
From there, she'd continue to poke the bear, though she had no reason to think Flash was in any way bear-like. Their interactions were like those of professional co-workers, and his patience and compromise would have been on display while he strived to make a good impression. Now, he was recognizable only to those who had seen beyond the surface of his proverbial lake. He'd inadvertently grumble, his hand no longer on his face to spare her a look of disdain.
"I've barely slept a wink, not that it's of any of your concern." He'd reply, keeping his answer short and as free of barbs as he could manage.
Then, she got down to business, describing her purpose. Flash would flicker for one emotion to the next as she went on, confusion more readily available than comprehension. The mention of Ruka alone was enough to send his thoughts reeling, but too much more was at the forefront to let himself dive into introspection. The hockey game, for instance, was a pleasant memory, one of his favorites. Then, the idea of more work. Before the incident, Flash might have readily, even quickly, accepted. Now, it rang almost as an insult to ask more of him. He could barely manage the minimum.
"I... " Flash tried to start, tried to think of an appropriate response, but it failed him with a beleaguered sigh. "I appreciate your confidence in me, but it's misplaced. I have enough on my plate as it is..."
I'm useless. he wanted to add, his eyes looking at some spot on the floor rather than Dealla's face. The situation was recalling his feelings of helplessness, a mixture of anger and sorrow replacing what had been relative emptiness before. I'm ruined.
Incapable of resolving the feelings he had, incorrectly assign the blame of them on her, and knowing he needed his faculties back to properly pay attention in class, he would lash out impetuously. Each word, though harmless in essence, would come out sounding accusatory. "Is that all you wanted then? To put me to work? I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"No. One of my eyes was replaced." He'd say, his voice low with latent irritation.
From there, she'd continue to poke the bear, though she had no reason to think Flash was in any way bear-like. Their interactions were like those of professional co-workers, and his patience and compromise would have been on display while he strived to make a good impression. Now, he was recognizable only to those who had seen beyond the surface of his proverbial lake. He'd inadvertently grumble, his hand no longer on his face to spare her a look of disdain.
"I've barely slept a wink, not that it's of any of your concern." He'd reply, keeping his answer short and as free of barbs as he could manage.
Then, she got down to business, describing her purpose. Flash would flicker for one emotion to the next as she went on, confusion more readily available than comprehension. The mention of Ruka alone was enough to send his thoughts reeling, but too much more was at the forefront to let himself dive into introspection. The hockey game, for instance, was a pleasant memory, one of his favorites. Then, the idea of more work. Before the incident, Flash might have readily, even quickly, accepted. Now, it rang almost as an insult to ask more of him. He could barely manage the minimum.
"I... " Flash tried to start, tried to think of an appropriate response, but it failed him with a beleaguered sigh. "I appreciate your confidence in me, but it's misplaced. I have enough on my plate as it is..."
I'm useless. he wanted to add, his eyes looking at some spot on the floor rather than Dealla's face. The situation was recalling his feelings of helplessness, a mixture of anger and sorrow replacing what had been relative emptiness before. I'm ruined.
Incapable of resolving the feelings he had, incorrectly assign the blame of them on her, and knowing he needed his faculties back to properly pay attention in class, he would lash out impetuously. Each word, though harmless in essence, would come out sounding accusatory. "Is that all you wanted then? To put me to work? I'm sorry to disappoint you."
@Dealla Prince
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
22 Feb 2022, 11:00
Concurrence
Dee wasn't sure what answer she had expected, but that his eye had been replaced was not it. She paused again, blinking, then involuntarily leaned in closer to get a better look. "It was replaced?" Eye transplant? But why? A silly question to ask herself internally, might as well ask it out loud, unaware of the fact that it may have been more prudent to back off of this one. "Why? Was there something wrong with your eye?"
Yet, the longer their interaction continued, the harder it was even for her to ignore that Flash was not behaving like his usual self. Or, well, the usual self he had shown her so far, at least. She really didn't know anything about him. His replies were terse, expression matching the tone, and Dee started to realise that something might be off here.
He still listened to her idea though, although she had a hard time reading his expression, not that she was trying all that hard, caught up in her explanation. There had been little doubt in her mind that Flash would accept - she was pretty sure he had enjoyed last year's game as much as she had, and he kind of just seemed like the type, if that made sense. Plus, she hadn't lied, he was good at organising events, their work on the fall ball had been enough to convince her of that.
So when he turned her down, it threw her for a loop. Even more, the way he phrased it? She couldn't put her finger on it, but it wasn't the polite negative response she may have expected for him. No apology, or assurance, or... well, she didn't really know what. Still, she was certain enough in her own opinion that she didn't think any confidence she had in anyone was misplaced. If she had confidence in someone, it was usually earned. Dee frowned slightly, the excitement leaving both her voice and her expression.
The accusation in his last words didn't go unnoticed, although it bounced off of Dealla rather harmlessly, her skin was thick enough for that. It did, however, not help her with figuring out what to say. Clearly, she had upset him for some reason, which hadn't been her intention, and she was generally terrible at figuring out stuff like that. What had she said?
"If you don't want to, that's fine," she said after a few seconds of silence, her voice lilting upwards at the end of the sentence, making it more an uncertain question than a statement. "I mean. I thought it would be fun, that's..." She trailed off, feeling lost. This was not what she had expected from the conversation, and it left all her momentum and excitement fizzling out strangely. How could she explain that? "I don't think my confidence is misplaced." The words were genuine, honesty shining through in her voice.
Another slight pause, then a simple, neutral observation. "You've changed."
@Flash Holmwood
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
3 Mar 2022, 17:32
Concurrence
Though it wasn't odd that she would want to know more, it wouldn't stop the cringing the question would bring him. Instead of facing her directly, he'd side-eye her, from his good eye, of course. "No. There was nothing wrong with it. There was something wrong with the thing that took it." If she didn't take the hint that he didn't like to talk about it soon, the malice would likely escalate, but he had been through this conversation many times already, and was mostly prepared with a slew of non-answer answers.
When he declined, she was predictably disappointed, but he was already too lost in his own self-pity to worry about his reputation. Not committing himself to that much work was dodging a bullet after all, saving himself from self-destruction. It was a good thing... though he had spared little thought to how he said it, emphasizing his own pain and diminishing her skills or perception. In truth, it was his bitterness creating something of an accusation. That she should be more reverent and careful with him, instead of friendly. He had changed indeed.
Instead of biting back, or shuffling off defeated, her answer to his indignant whining was more questioning. It seemed she, like him, was not satisficed with the unexplained remaining unexamined. It was his curiosity that got him cursed in the first place, as well as placed him in one dangerous situation after the other, until he had gone too far. He struggled to maintain his anger in the face of her genuine interest.
"That's... true..." He'd start, also breathing small silences between the words being said. "I'm sorry... I should have been more straightforward... I don't really like... admitting it, but..."
Flash would shuffle around uncomfortably as he contended with his greatest adversary, his own pride, and the constant desire to appear as though he had no need to show vulnerability. It was a stoic face he kept cemented in place to people he didn't know, and therefore could not trust, but it caved in when shown even the slightest bit of sympathy. It was, after all, attention, which he loved.
"I've had a difficult year. I haven't been well. There's no way I could have the energy to run an event... and to be quite honest, that infuriates me. I can hardly do anything anymore." His fingers would tap on the table in front of him, drumming as a way to ease the frustration. "I wish I could keep up with you, to be excited again like you were. I'm jealous."
When he declined, she was predictably disappointed, but he was already too lost in his own self-pity to worry about his reputation. Not committing himself to that much work was dodging a bullet after all, saving himself from self-destruction. It was a good thing... though he had spared little thought to how he said it, emphasizing his own pain and diminishing her skills or perception. In truth, it was his bitterness creating something of an accusation. That she should be more reverent and careful with him, instead of friendly. He had changed indeed.
Instead of biting back, or shuffling off defeated, her answer to his indignant whining was more questioning. It seemed she, like him, was not satisficed with the unexplained remaining unexamined. It was his curiosity that got him cursed in the first place, as well as placed him in one dangerous situation after the other, until he had gone too far. He struggled to maintain his anger in the face of her genuine interest.
"That's... true..." He'd start, also breathing small silences between the words being said. "I'm sorry... I should have been more straightforward... I don't really like... admitting it, but..."
Flash would shuffle around uncomfortably as he contended with his greatest adversary, his own pride, and the constant desire to appear as though he had no need to show vulnerability. It was a stoic face he kept cemented in place to people he didn't know, and therefore could not trust, but it caved in when shown even the slightest bit of sympathy. It was, after all, attention, which he loved.
"I've had a difficult year. I haven't been well. There's no way I could have the energy to run an event... and to be quite honest, that infuriates me. I can hardly do anything anymore." His fingers would tap on the table in front of him, drumming as a way to ease the frustration. "I wish I could keep up with you, to be excited again like you were. I'm jealous."
@Dealla Prince
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
11 Mar 2022, 22:35
Concurrence
There was something wrong with the thing that took it. That was enough to give even Dealla a pause, the hair at the back of her neck standing up. Flash's earlier words had made it sound like some kind of medical procedure, changing his eye for some reason. But the thing that took it, that didn't make it sound like a doctor. Or... healer. Or whatever. Dee wasn't entirely sure if wizard hospitals had surgeries. She'd never been to one.
Yet everything from Flash's tone, his words, to his posture, turned so she could see his profile rather than his full face, the odd eye hidden, made clear that questions were unwelcome. She had poked and prodded further than she'd been invited already, she realised that now. That didn't quell the urge to dig deeper, didn't soothe any of her incessant, uncomfortable curiosity, but she tried to rein it in. For the moment.
The change in topic proved to be the easier way behind Flash's defenses. While his words came slowly, speech choppy, he didn't brush her off as harshly, and Dee sat straight, hands clasped in her lap as if to physically hold herself still to let him speak.
Not that it helped her understand much. He jealous of... her ability to be excited? Was that supposed to make sense? How could anyone not be able to be excited? Granted, she herself had thought earlier about how long it had been that she had done something purely because she was excited about it, but all it had taken was that one idea, and both her mind and her feet had gone racing off to see it fulfilled.
She mulled his words over, tried to turn them this way and that to see if they made more sense from another angle. He wasn't familiar enough for her to interpret meaning beyond the surface. "You're... sick?" Dealla asked finally, hesitantly. Was that what he meant about being unable to do anything? Did this have to do with his eye thing? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed so much. I..." She paused again, tilting her head to one side, then the other, while she thought. It didn't sound like he was simply weak due to illness, lacking the physical energy to keep up.
What happened? was what she wanted to know. "Can I help?" was what she said, lacking the subtlety to navigate the topic.
@Flash Holmwood
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
13 Mar 2022, 02:15
Concurrence
It seemed to sink in, as Flash got prodded long enough to make his frustration more and more evident. Questions that were inoffensive, faults that were not intentional, everything was rubbing him the wrong way lately. Even when he ostensibly got what he wanted, his counterpart becoming more attentive and sympathetic, it felt somehow annoying, like she must have been giving him empty pity. His condition was something he tolerated most days, but suddenly, he was face-to-face with one of the many emotions he kept bottled up. There were so many things he couldn't talk about, that he had to carry alone, with a daily weakening back.
He was upset. He wanted to scream at her, tear her down, insult her intelligence. Perhaps if they weren't in a crowded room that was awaiting the arrival of a professor, he might have. In a way, he was grateful that the situation prevented him from succumbing to the tantrum he wanted to throw. It wasn't actually Dee's fault that he was 'sick.' He wasn't giving her any of the tools necessary to understand his reaction. That was the logic, the patience and understanding he was losing with each night of maddening, disturbed sleep.
Stopping the drumming of his fingers to clench his fist, he attempted to ease the pressure building at his temple. Though logic was winning, it wouldn't stop him from casting a look at her containing a hint of the vitriol he felt. He was angry at the world, at himself, yet the sparks would use any convienient lightning rod.
"You don't have to apologize." The words would be devoid of warmth, and his eyes would now watch the front of the class, looking for something to glower at that wasn't an undeserving peer. "And you can't help me. Unless perhaps you know how to reverse a hag's curse."
He'd deliver this information flippantly, as though it were a joke. Hags were a popular topic of discussion in the school ever since the school had announced the changing of curfew due to hag activity in the Forbidden Forest. While Flash had been an active participant in trying to find out more about them, particularly about the students helping them, he had paid the price for his curiosity. A mark scratched on his chest, and an eye removed. Now, he spent his days contemplating the likelihood of a slow death, wilting away to nothing but a husk.
He wished he was playing hockey instead.
He was upset. He wanted to scream at her, tear her down, insult her intelligence. Perhaps if they weren't in a crowded room that was awaiting the arrival of a professor, he might have. In a way, he was grateful that the situation prevented him from succumbing to the tantrum he wanted to throw. It wasn't actually Dee's fault that he was 'sick.' He wasn't giving her any of the tools necessary to understand his reaction. That was the logic, the patience and understanding he was losing with each night of maddening, disturbed sleep.
Stopping the drumming of his fingers to clench his fist, he attempted to ease the pressure building at his temple. Though logic was winning, it wouldn't stop him from casting a look at her containing a hint of the vitriol he felt. He was angry at the world, at himself, yet the sparks would use any convienient lightning rod.
"You don't have to apologize." The words would be devoid of warmth, and his eyes would now watch the front of the class, looking for something to glower at that wasn't an undeserving peer. "And you can't help me. Unless perhaps you know how to reverse a hag's curse."
He'd deliver this information flippantly, as though it were a joke. Hags were a popular topic of discussion in the school ever since the school had announced the changing of curfew due to hag activity in the Forbidden Forest. While Flash had been an active participant in trying to find out more about them, particularly about the students helping them, he had paid the price for his curiosity. A mark scratched on his chest, and an eye removed. Now, he spent his days contemplating the likelihood of a slow death, wilting away to nothing but a husk.
He wished he was playing hockey instead.
@Dealla Prince
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
20 Mar 2022, 18:49
Concurrence
Dee was clearly out of her depth here. She didn't know what happened, couldn't make sense of Flash's words, was not intuitive enough to guess at his emotions or motivations, and too stubborn to just let it go and leave. Yet clearly, she wasn't the only stubborn participant in this situation, although Flash probably had more right to be obstinate about this than Dealla did.
The look he gave her rubbed her the wrong way for reasons she lacked the emotional maturity to pinpoint, and she blinked before her eyes narrowed slightly, hackles rising. She was trying here, he was not being particularly helpful. (Likely because he didn't want her to try and to poke into his private affairs, but that was a fact she could easily enough ignore.)
His next sentence contained only more deflection, and Dee's patience was running low. "Of course, let me just check my pocket for the magic fix-all that I carry around just in case it's needed. I already used it today to cure dragon pox and bring someone back from the dead." The words were out without her trying to stop them, gone the careful prodding. Then she paused. Sure, it had sounded like sarcasm, another shield, which she had returned in kind. But what if?
Leaning forward, Dealla tried to catch Flash's eyes. Both of them. She hadn't ever heard about hags replacing eyes and turning people grumpy, but what did she really know? They liked eating kids. They had been endangering the school for months, longer than she'd been here, likely, and used to have a gingerbread house in the Forbidden Forest, which Syl had accidentally set on fire last summer. They lived in covens and possibly looked like the witches from Muggle fairy tales, humpbacked and with warts on their noses. That was it, really.
"You're serious?" she wanted to know. Little subtlety shown, as usual. "You got cursed by a hag and now you can't have fun anymore?"
@Flash Holmwood
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
1 Apr 2022, 15:15
Concurrence
To his last failed attempt at an olive branch, for as wilted a branch as it was to begin with, Dealla retorted with sarcasm. For as much as he was looking at her, he'd glower with contempt. It was bad enough that he needed to share vulnerability, but he couldn't stand being made light of. His mind pulled him between the truth and emotion, knowing his situation was intentionally unclear, and yet wanting sympathy. The location they were in, with now a nearly full class behind them, had saved Dealla from his petulant wrath, and in a way, saved himself from making a scene over nothing.
The truth also included that he admired her curiosity and insistence. Though he was half the person he was before, he was still himself, and still held his own values. He wanted to be the one asking the questions, but would have to accept the role of the curiosity instead. Jealousy was unbecoming, and the best he could do with it was realize that he needed to do something. Maybe not hockey, but some kind of event, like he used to. Perhaps it would calm the resentment festering inside of him.
"Yes." Though it was something of a silly question, and she had posed it as a joke, all hints at humor were drained from his cold expression. "In the middle of the day, at the start of the year, I was attacked."
With how whipped up he had gotten, the stale sentence on its own caused his throat to choke. When he explained it to Thomas, he had nearly had a meltdown. Since then, he rarely told anyone. He was raised knowing the importance of reputation, but was born soft and sensitive. If he were being true to himself, he'd be screaming and crying in a hospital somewhere, but his fear, as well as his desire to continue having a life, kept him suffering in silence. When he thought on this, he realized he needed to own this decision.
"Whatever she did to me, I can't sleep anymore. Not a single night has gone by without sudden waking, images of shadows just outside my vision, and the feeling of eyes on me... a weight on my chest, not being able to breathe..." It was more than he would have been willing to share with anyone, but her prodding questions had led them both there. "I'm always tired, my body hurts, and it's hard to focus. I'm barely keeping my grades up, and I'm too exhausted to spend time with my friends or plan anything fun anymore."
Closing his eyes, he'd rub his face reactively to talking about being tired. He didn't really know Dealla all that well, something that in itself was painful upon reflection. If it hadn't happened, and she approached him like this, he would have been honored and excited about her offer. She had always seemed bright, helpful, honest, the kinds of things he admired in people, the kind he wanted to bring closer to him and nurture. Now, he felt humiliated to stand in comparison to someone he once considered a peer. Now he was just a victim, it had become his whole identity.
"I'm sorry for my theatrics. I'm not proud of how I've been acting recently." Releasing his face from his hands with a sigh, he figured any impression he may have left on her before had been shattered. Most people would not have waded through his snark long enough to get to the heart of it, and he wished he could have given her praise for it. Discovering his truth was hardly a prize though. "I'm sure you didn't want to hear all of my complaining."
The truth also included that he admired her curiosity and insistence. Though he was half the person he was before, he was still himself, and still held his own values. He wanted to be the one asking the questions, but would have to accept the role of the curiosity instead. Jealousy was unbecoming, and the best he could do with it was realize that he needed to do something. Maybe not hockey, but some kind of event, like he used to. Perhaps it would calm the resentment festering inside of him.
"Yes." Though it was something of a silly question, and she had posed it as a joke, all hints at humor were drained from his cold expression. "In the middle of the day, at the start of the year, I was attacked."
With how whipped up he had gotten, the stale sentence on its own caused his throat to choke. When he explained it to Thomas, he had nearly had a meltdown. Since then, he rarely told anyone. He was raised knowing the importance of reputation, but was born soft and sensitive. If he were being true to himself, he'd be screaming and crying in a hospital somewhere, but his fear, as well as his desire to continue having a life, kept him suffering in silence. When he thought on this, he realized he needed to own this decision.
"Whatever she did to me, I can't sleep anymore. Not a single night has gone by without sudden waking, images of shadows just outside my vision, and the feeling of eyes on me... a weight on my chest, not being able to breathe..." It was more than he would have been willing to share with anyone, but her prodding questions had led them both there. "I'm always tired, my body hurts, and it's hard to focus. I'm barely keeping my grades up, and I'm too exhausted to spend time with my friends or plan anything fun anymore."
Closing his eyes, he'd rub his face reactively to talking about being tired. He didn't really know Dealla all that well, something that in itself was painful upon reflection. If it hadn't happened, and she approached him like this, he would have been honored and excited about her offer. She had always seemed bright, helpful, honest, the kinds of things he admired in people, the kind he wanted to bring closer to him and nurture. Now, he felt humiliated to stand in comparison to someone he once considered a peer. Now he was just a victim, it had become his whole identity.
"I'm sorry for my theatrics. I'm not proud of how I've been acting recently." Releasing his face from his hands with a sigh, he figured any impression he may have left on her before had been shattered. Most people would not have waded through his snark long enough to get to the heart of it, and he wished he could have given her praise for it. Discovering his truth was hardly a prize though. "I'm sure you didn't want to hear all of my complaining."
@Dealla Prince
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15