Ruination PV Santario Closed

Much like Flash, Santario had spent most of her younger years learning the castle. It had become only too apparent that knowing as much of the habit of their home as she could be a need of survival. The only real difference from her unknown company was that she did hers with a camera in her hand, taking in the beauty of the architecture. Admiring the way the curves of the castle had been carved out of stone and the delicate woodworked features. She had very little interest in her peers, and most had come to understand that even if it had changed over summer. She had become warmer towards people instead of just giving everyone the cold shoulder. Something… Or rather someone had unknowingly showed her how letting people in could be a good thing even if some were bound to still hurt you.

Alas, there were just some things that knowledge couldn’t protect you from. Knowledge of the castle, beautiful photographs, and even now, some friends couldn’t save her from the fate that had befallen her only days prior. A fresh wound scabbed over but still stinging as her skin stretched when she walked was a constant reminder of what had changed and what she could not stop. The multiple puncture wounds from the lamprey-like mouth kept hidden behind a pair of, for once, not ripped black jeans.

Today Santario stalked across the castle's grounds for some much-needed fresh air and space. Sometimes being inside of the castle and in the dungeons was welcome. Her things were there after all, but today they just felt suffocating and claustrophobic. The girls’ dorms were alive with talks about the upcoming ball, dresses, and make-up, and while she had agreed to go with Vladimir, something she was actually excited about, she felt a deep well of despair when the ball was mentioned. Something would go wrong. Something always went wrong, but this was different and more personal somehow. She wished she had chosen a different dorm this year, but they were all likely the same in the end.

As Santario walked, she pulled the hood of her sweater up, letting the long braid of hair stick out over her shoulder before shoving her hands in the pouch on the front to keep them warm. There might not have been snow on the ground yet, but it was still getting cold. Being alone would not seem to last as she found herself stopped dead in her tracks looking at what appeared to be one Flash Holmwood crouched on the ground with a book of some sort in his hands. A journal to be assumed, considering he was writing in it. Did she dare approach? Standing there in contemplation, obviously staring at him for longer than would be polite or appropriate, Santario finally made the decision to walk over.

Flash was not someone she could say that she knew very well but was always someone she had wanted to know better. She knew things about him; of course, they had shared two years in the same house and the same classes. She crept closer to him, looking over his shoulder to see what he was doing, hoping it would give her an idea of if she should disturb him or run away. Thankfully the boy was engrossed in what appeared to be a study on death.

He had intrigued her once before over summer when he sang with her, but this was a whole other spectrum of Flash she didn’t know existed, and she found herself fascinated. “Well, if it isn’t the pretty boy of Slytherin.” Silvery French-accented words would find ways to his ear, possibly adding insult to an injury she had not known was there. “I never took you as a fancy for death.” Santario took a sidestep around him so he would not have to contort in an uncomfortable way to see her. It would appear that they had both changed; it would be hard to explain the pale getting paler. Everything about the Slytherin girl seemed dull now, no longer a shining gem.

Unaware for too long, it was not until Santario spoke that he would realize the intrusion. Due to it's closeness, he'd be incapable of restraining his surprise, bracing against the tree with a gasp. Embarrassment would set in once he recognized his classmate, and denote her friendly tone. He'd try to regain quick composure, though his heart would take a moment to settle. "Pretty-?" Flash would start and stop, a small scoff replacing commentary on the designation.

Her following words would discomfort him further, his hands coming together to clasp his journal shut, his odd eyes cast upon the forest floor instead of her face. He was very protective of his personal life, and easily disturbed at having to share it. To someone who he didn't know well, that he didn't know if he could trust, he'd prefer to share nothing at all. There were things Flash knew about Santario-- she didn't trust the food, she was a close personal friend of Lestrange, and she was a capable duelist, co-captain of the undefeated Slytherin team alongside Bridget. As for anything else, unknown. She wasn't the kind of person people gossiped about.

"I doubt you've thought of me much at all." Flash's response would be one of indignation, lashing out in frustration of being caught. He was crankier in general these days. "I was just... curious about it."

He would not have the time to form a proper narrative, and would instead react defensively. As their interactions thus far had given him no reason to treat her harshly, he'd follow-up with a sigh, knowing it was wrong to punish her when she did nothing wrong... as far as he could tell. He'd stand more upright and start to look right at her, though his face was still far from a smile.

"You know... from... a scientific standpoint." Flash's voice would quiet as he spoke, Santario's expression not quite as soft and friendly as he expected it to look.

The sun would still be up for a while, curfew was still a ways off, though the shade of the trees brought its own deep chill. The spattering of light through the increasingly barren canopy would fade in and out of existence with the passing of clouds beyond their scope of vision. His breath would fog the air lightly, a portent of the frozen night to follow.