How Rude PV Taizu closed

11/10/22 • ava speaking • others speaking • mood: in the mood to roast someone

The kid seemed absolutely terrified of me. I frowned and examined him. Kind of gangly, with long limbs hanging by his sides. Shorter than a dwarf, I added with a smirk. He was pretty slender, the kind of build that would make you overlook him in a crowd. I felt a pang of sympathy for this short dude who seemed to be stuttering out some sort of reply to my question. He held up an envelope and managed to answer with a quick: "I-I j-just wanted t-to s-s-send a l-lett-ter." I examined it. Seemed pretty standard as far as letters went. “To who?” I demanded, gesturing at the letter for his benefit.

He rushed to get the letter tied to an owl and turned back to me. Everything about him seemed careful. He was easy to miss in a crowd—heck—even in a small room. He seemed quite afraid of everything, which contradicted his griffindork badge. Small, afraid, not confident. Exactly the sorts I tried to avoid, in case it rubbed off on me. I didn’t recognize him from this years sorting ceremony, but maybe that was because of how he acted. Even maybe in part to how he looked.

"I-i-is e-everything all r-right? Y-you seem k-kinda ups-set." I considered the question. Should I answer truthfully? He seemed harmless enough, so I sighed and felt myself lean against the nasty owlery walls. “I was looking to see if my parents had wrote to me yet.” Just saying the words made me feel small, weak. But maybe that was because when I was leaning against the wall I had shrunk a few inches. Stupid talent.

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I felt small, leaning against the wall, vulnerable to anything this boy could--and would--throw at me. At least I wasn't the smallest in the room. As I spoke, the boy seemed to scrunch up into himself. Through his fear, the boy seemed to be scanning me, figuring out what I was about. I wasn't sure if he recognized me, but I saw a flash of something in his eyes. Realizations, or maybe hate. I steeled my eyes against him, fighting the urge to kick something--or someone. My response to his question had him unsure and uneasy. His posture said he had been in a situation like this, maybe many times. He was silent for a moment, weighing his options. I stared at him with focused determination, deciding whether I would be fighting or fleeing. I was leaning towards fighting, whether it be with words or fists. Or feet, for that matter. I wasn't sure if he was the type for gossip, but I certainly wouldn't be on the gossip radar as the girl who fled from the small, undaunting kid. He opened his mouth to speak, and I braced myself. But the words that came out of his mouth were the last thing I thought I would hear. He had asked if I needed a hug. I was shocked. No one, never, had ever asked me that. I felt my eyes well with tears and looked away, swiping at my face with a sleeve quickly to hide my crying. I wanted to say yes, to nod, let him hug me and let him be near, to push away my problems momentarily. Would I be seen as weak? I nodded a tiny, barely noticeable, nod before I could convince myself to do otherwise.

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OOTD || 1

metamorphmagus

unknown || SONG

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He seemed to take my silence as a way that I was trying to politely say no: although if I were to say no I would definitely do it brutally. He stuttered quickly, saying that I didn’t have to say yes. I think it was the tears in my eyes that had him panicking the most. He seemed to be looking for something to say, most likely an apology, when I finally found the courage to give a tiny nod. Cautiously, as if I were as fragile as a porcelain doll, he wrapped his arms around me. He seemed nervous, so I made no move to scare him off. As little as I wanted to admit it, I was carrying a lot on my shoulders and I was too stubborn to unload it on someone else. He seemed to be steadier, and I could feel myself calming down, however slowly. Maybe I needed to tell people what I was carrying. But that would ruin my “flying solo” rule. If you depend on someone, they depend on you. Them depending on you means—"F-feeling better?" He stepped back from our hug and barely stuttered, unlike earlier when you could barely make out the words he said. He stood a little taller, and she was beginning to wonder if he was a second year—or even a third year. “Yeah,” she considered her answer carefully. “Yeah, I’m better thanks.” She still had something on her mind but she wasn’t sure how he would react to it. “I’m Ava.”

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OOTD || 1

metamorphmagus

unknown || SONG