Wholesome Content PV closed

@Nicholas McCowan

How was it that Falentra felt more alone now than she ever did. Back when she had nobody, the loneliness brought her happiness. But now, she had her small group of friends yet felt more alone than ever. Was it normal to feel that way? Surely not. She had seen others smiling and laughing around their peers, yet she didn’t know where to start when it came to acting such a way. Maybe she was just different. An outcast. She thought she wasn’t as cruel as she used to be. No. She had grown up over the years and whilst the rumours of her cold attitude and snarky comments happened to still be true, she did have a heart, which meant she also had that thing called feelings. They were just buried deep down somewhere on a dusty old shelf. Many seemed to overlook that, automatically see danger. Avoiding the contact with her fellow peers used to be one of the main reasons she did it, but now she wasn’t too sure. She had made friends, fell in love, felt heartache, plenty of anger and jealousy, but also a new feeling. The need to care for others, to protect them and look out for them.


Her mind often wandered, and when it did, her legs would do the same. They wandered carelessly throughout the castle, but like always, they ended up carrying her to the grounds where the air was fresh and filled with that beautiful sound of silence. It brought her peace. To have no eyes peering you up and down, to have no forced interactions. The silence. It was perfect.

She was quite enjoying her lonesome walk until she arrived in front of the Outdoor Club Area..was it? It was one of few areas she had never ventured into or have much of a knowledge on, but she was almost certain it was used for some sort of sport. Was it some form of Quidditch? It wasn’t her cup of tea. Watching a Quidditch match was enough for her to get a sweat on and keep her on the edge of her seat. To have her heart racing and her eyes secretly watching in terror behind that morbid looking mask she wore. Yes. Falentra Black was very much uncomfortable of one thing. Flying. Not one person knew of it, and it was going to stay that way unless they wanted their tongue gone.
Her eyes searched the empty ground with curiosity and dare she even took a step forward. The girl was fearless, and little scared her but heights really didn’t sit well with her.

Only moments later a figure flew passed her direction at quite some speed. They seemed fearless themselves, self destructive even. Did they know how fast they was going? She was confident there was to be an accident in the ma— ah. Well there it was. Not even a second before she finished cursing in thought. The figure met the ground with quite the thud but sat upright as if nothing had happened. As if it was a reoccurring thing. What a nutter… She thought. Who the hell was it anyway? They were too far away for her to take a guess. Naturally, she wandered cautiously behind the figure, her curiosity drawing her closer. It wasn’t long before her long legs brought her only a few inches behind the figure. She made herself known by giving a few sarcastic claps to their accident. Only when she took a few steps closer to arrive by the boys side would she raise a brow. She knew this face. It was a boy she had met not too long back. Nicholas, right? She pondered in thought before realising the natural cold stare she often gave was probably becoming quite uncomfortable. “Oh. It’s you.” She finally commented. It didn’t sound too friendly, and whilst it wasn’t her intention for it to come across that way, she was simply surprised and unsure how to react to the situation. A part of her wanted to kneel down and check him over like a worried mother, whilst the other part to her wanted to keep her cool and avoid showing that she may have took a liking to the boy… just a tiiiiny little bit. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t rolling around like a baby. He was fine, so why fuss over it.
“You alright?” A hint of concern could be heard this time round in her voice and a hand extended to help the boy up if he needed it. If he was to accept, she would pull him up with quite some force, and quickly pick at a few loose twigs that were buried in that wild hair of his. If not, she would wave her hand in a ‘suit yourself’ gesture and shove it back into her pocket.

His cheeks were flushed. A dark red. Was he crying from the fall? Or was the bitter wind too much for his baby face? It was a thought she was to later question him on, but for now she wanted to know why he was flying like a mad man.

“What the hell are you doin’? You trying to get yourself killed or something? Do you know how fast you was goin’? You rea-..” She paused, now realising how concerned she was probably sounding. She didn’t care. Right? No. She didn’t… she.. didn’t. Her eyes quickly rolled at the sound of her own voice. She was talking to much. Giving too much away. From what she remembered of Nicholas, he was quite the reader and understood her language quite well and even threw a bit of banter right back at her with same attitude she had towards others. She liked it, but he didn’t need to know that. A quick change of attitude would sort that. “What I’m sayin’ is, if your gonna be reckless, do it elsewhere. I don’t wanna have to carry you back to the hospital wing over your stupidity..” Her eyes quickly glanced at his, at his expression. She hoped he bought her crap, but maybe she was too late. Her arms would then fold in irritation at both herself and his actions. For now, she was to keep quiet and see what he had to say for himself. Like he had not choice but to answer her questions. It was no wonder nobody liked her.

The sound of applause was unmistakable, particularly when it was delivered in a way that caused it to serve a very different purpose to the one of congratulations that it was so naturally associated with. Nicholas was tired, he’d just about spent himself by clutching desperately to a speeding wooden stick for dear life, and dealing with the sort of person who went out of their way to belittle such efforts was hardly in his plans for the rest of the day. Moreover, he really didn’t have the energy to force himself to look at them, not yet. Not when he was presently dripping with perspiration and exhaustion. Still, in due course, he looked over his shoulder, his intention to get a look at his audience, and if all went well, to tell them to beat it so he could continue to waddle in misery and the remnants of his adrenaline.

He wasn’t expecting Falentra Black. He wasn’t really sure as to why he’d been so certain that it wasn’t her, perhaps he just assumed she wasn’t the type to wander the grounds watching racers. Alas, there she was. The intimidating older girl who’d provided him advice toward the end of his first year. Of course, said advice had essentially boiled down to ‘everyone else can go and get fucked’ and ‘don’t be afraid to be cruel.’ Naturally, he’d taken to it quite swimmingly. Although, he supposed that her advice wasn’t supposed to result in him developing a crush on one of the girls he was cruel to, and then embarrassing himself in front of the entire school by kissing her. His blush only deepened at the thought, and his teeth grit into a rigid grimace.

Her words were harsh, and her glare was telling. Fantastic, even she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Nicholas supposed that was only fair, after all, he had become an absolute flaming embarrassment. Distancing herself from the little second year who’d come to her for advice was only natural. It stung.

Still, he’d no intention of letting himself be on the receiving end of some kind of insult, and so he answered her greeting in similar icey tones, “It’s me.”

When she softened, he almost immediately felt guilty, a rather natural emotion he’d come to find. How could he continuously make such mistakes? Fortunately, the frustration he felt at himself was overshadowed by relief at the notion that her greeting wasn’t as harsh as he’d first thought. Subconsciously, he relaxed further, rolling shoulders then allowing them to sag, the aches of his muscles and bones rather content with such a motion.

“Yeah, pretty good actually, managed to avoid any of the worst of it,” He answered rather nonchalantly, eyes flicking to his broom and then back to her.

He’d not expected her follow up questions. While he could hear the concern upon her voice, he barely registered it, for immediately his emotions, ever-mercurial, flashed back toward anger. He’d done nothing wrong, what right did she have to accuse him of being stupid? Of course, he’d been going fast, he was practising racing, going fast was the whole bloody well point. Nicholas didn’t have the energy to try and read further into what Falentra was saying beyond a surface level, but that surface was clear enough. She was annoyed with him, as if he was some kind of rank amateur who’d go and get himself injured. Besides, this was the right place to practice racing.

“I’m going fast because I need to practice for racing, you know, the sport where you need to go faster than anyone else. That just means I was doing it right if I looked like I was going super bloody fast, yeah?” He shot back, defensive to the last, “Besides, I didn’t even know you were here, and I’m not going to go crashing. What do you take me for?”

She’d taught him to stand up for himself, and that was precisely what he was doing. He’d done nothing wrong, for once, so he’d take the little victories precisely where he could get them.

“In any case, it’s just flying, people do it all the time, y’know?” He added, over-emphasising the shrug that accompanied the rhetorical question, “And there aren’t even any people throwing spells at me so I’d wager it’s pretty safe, I reckon.”

“Also, not like I asked you t’watch over me,” He added, before pausing, his face scrunching up as if thinking, “Although, I appreciate it.”

It was a minor concession, true, but he was just so tired of fighting. He couldn’t bring himself to truly believe that she was fed up with him, that would be heartbreaking. There had to be at least one person at the godforsaken school who didn’t loathe him, right?

@Falentra Black

@Nicholas McCowan

She expected somewhat of a timid response. No back chat or fieriness in his voice was to come bouncing straight back at her... but it did, and it caught her off-guard. No words left her mouth at first and only a raise of her brows were to speak for her. She was both shocked and impressed, even if she didn't verbally express it to him. She couldn't remember entirely what they talked about on their previous meeting, but what did remember was giving him her classic harsh words, but also a bit of a pep talk-- saying it a it was, unlike most who tiptoed around any subject to remained liked.

If it was any other student, Falentra would have most likely have snapped back by now or at the very least give them a glare. However, she had taken a liking to the younger Gryffindor so decided to bite her tongue and finally offer a small smile. It was only brief, but enough for him to catch if he was looking at her. ''Alright alright. Don't bite my 'ead off..'' She joked, following with another quick smile, trying to lighten the mood that she created in the first place.

Maybe her words came across wrong, when she was trying to express her own version of concern. Because she wasn't all that good at it and didn't do it that often, where she would try to show compassion she would show aggressiveness instead. So, she remained silent whilst he continued to bark defensively, letting him have his moment to shine and feel good, to stand up for himself.

He spoke of flying as if everyone did it. Well..they technically did, but she went no faster, or higher than she needed to during her lessons and even tried to wiggle her way out of some. Most got a buzz off the sport. Some where passionate about it, other did it just as a hobby and then there was a small few like herself that turned into a solid brick as soon as they lifted off the ground. She couldn't imagine the thought of someone finding out about her fear. Yes.. she was Fearless but she wasn't a machine. She couldn't just switch on and off whenever she wanted. There was surprisingly a few things that did scare her. A hovering broom being one. ''R..Right, yeah. Racing.'' She nodded, trying to play along as if she shared a similar interest. Quidditch was fun to watch, she had to admit but... they didn't race. It was at that moment her thoughts came to a stop. Her head turned down and her eyes glanced at him. ''Racing?'' She backtracked on herself. ''You.. don't race one another in Quidditch though, do you?'' She wasn’t sure if she was being dumb here, or if it was just one of the side affects of not wandering out enough to notice these things.

Getting irritated, and letting her anger get the better of her wasn’t worth it at this moment in time. There wasn’t really a need to be in all honesty, but she often used it as a defensive mechanism.. even if there wasn’t a reason. But, as time passed and Falentra grew, she learnt what was right from wrong and thankfully managed to keep her cool… most the time.
The Slytherin slowly lowered herself to his level, sitting upright on her knees. Her eyes had moved away from him and over to his broom, scanning it over before they glanced down at her fingers that tapped against her thighs. “Never been much of a flyer myself.” It wasn’t the greatest of conversations but she was trying to make one, one which she knew he had an interest in. Nicholas wasn’t stupid either. She knew he would click on straight away as to whether she wanted to be in his presence. With a gob like hers, it wasn’t hard to get the message. And in this case, it was noticeable that she didn’t mind his company or his braveness to bite back at her attitude. A true Gryffindor, as they say.

Relief, joyous relief, Nicholas was ecstatic to feel that emotion once again. He’d been so utterly convinced that one of his few positive relationships would evaporate before his very eyes, self-doubt had all but assured him of that fact. To hear that Falentra had no such intention, to see her smile and to joke about his own snappiness, he hadn’t realised just how much he’d needed to see it. A weight was lifted from his shoulders and Nicholas found himself smiling too, in spite of himself.

Their conversation had been snappy, a few traded barbs, but at least it was genuine, and at least Nicholas was confident that neither of them had intended any harm with their hasty remarks. Quick to anger, quicker to react, it was no wonder they got along so well. At least they were also somewhat quick when it came to realising that particular flaw.

Besides, the conversation quickly moved away from their initial understanding, and Nicholas wasn’t daft enough to fail to grasp that Falentra had done it deliberately.

“Quidditch?” He inclined his head slightly, brow furrowing at the question. He’d said racing, had he not? It took him a shameful few moments of thinking to realise that she may just be unfamiliar with the sport, and he quickly found himself feeling abashed at his failure in that regard.

She lowered herself to the ground, joining him on the grass, speaking as to her own relative inexperience with, or perhaps dislike of, flying. That would explain that then. He’d always thought of her as somewhat infallible, this force of maturity and self-assuredness, brutalistic but determined to take no shit from anyone. He supposed he had just assumed that meant she was always familiar with flying, although, the more he thought on it, the more preposterous that assumption seemed to be. It wasn’t as if the entire school were obsessed with brooms, not in the same way that he was quickly becoming.

“Uh, no,” He answered, “Different sport entirely. Basically trying to get to the other end of the course before the other team do, flinging spells and dodging thorns and waterfalls and all that, y’know?”

It was a rather barebones explanation of the sport, but truth be told, the sport itself was rather barebones. He grinned slightly to himself, before shaking his head, somewhat incredulously, “They went and made me captain of the new Gryffindor team.”

A point of pride, yes, but he didn’t want to appear as a braggart, not to the one person at the school he was so desperate to impress, so desperate to live up to her perceived image of him.

So, he changed the subject away from himself, diverting it back to her, “Not much of a flyer? Bloody hell, here I thought you were scared of nothin’.”

He grinned, the thickening of his accent behind the playful insult betraying his own insecurity. Still, he wasn’t about to retreat, he wasn’t a coward, and he was pretty sure she respected the lack of decorum, “Not one of those book reading ones, are you? Scared of heights?” He grinned again, not malicious but all too mischievous.

@Falentra Black