The Ones Who Don't Exist PV

@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood

House Colours: Gryffindor

Calming Presence in Effect

With a phlegmy cough as he turned his head into his shoulder, Piérre was having no luck... and that was starting to frustrate him a bit... Not because he didn't like the conversation that he and Aida were having, because he was quite enjoying it, it was because he was mostly concerned for the state of the delicate mandolin that he had grown quite a strong connection to.

Piérre did fix the pale girl with a strange look though, as she mentioned flirting. "Is that what I was doing?" He asked musingly, his brows creasing ever so slightly as he sniffed back a bit of a runny nose. "I didn't know... but I think being a wolf would be really cool. Werewolves... I feel bad for them, but wouldn't it be cool to be able to be something else if only for a night?"

Piérre smiled lightly. "Wouldn't it be funny if I was a puffin, haha!" He giggled to himself. "I could act like a puffin too if you want!" Hm... or to be something more colorful. "All colorful... Clownfish seems apt, I won't lie. But... I really wish I could fly on my own; to touch the skies and to be far above the ground and to see the people like ants on the ground... To fly above a storm and see the calm above the thunderclouds. Dawn and dusk undefiled by the muckiness of everything beneath it." Piérre didn't admit that he was frightened of water and of drowning. It was one of the oldest fears of his that had the ability to result in death. Although... his true boggart...

The Britalian wiggled his finger at the owl, not daring to touch her unless she wanted him to. Clicking his tongue at it, he listened to what Aida had to say before turning his attention back to the pale girl. As for Figaro, the kitten was more content to sit nearby and alternatively raise and lower his paw at the little owl as if trying to decide whether or not to bamph the little fella again. "Humans as slavers? I mean... you aren't wrong, I guess... history usually points to that." He mused aloud. "But... I mean... surely there are humans that work in harmony with animals. I mean, take me and Figaro here!" Piérre's hand-- the one that had formerly been wiggling at ZaZa-- extended to Figaro, which caught the attention of the feline and caused him to instinctively draw close and press its forehead into the boy's hand. A crackly purr left the throat of the cat after a second of quiet.

"Surely not everyone is a good person... that's the law of the world... but..." Figaro continued to rub on Piérre's hand as he spoke. "Would you take away the friendship of humans and their animal familiars as well? Surely I can see if the animals are in danger or abused... I mean, I eat meat; is that something you disagree with?" He tipped his head. Of course he knew of Vegans and Vegetarians who considered the rights of an animal to be so extreme that they refused to partake of the animals that Piérre (as a practicing Catholic) believed to have been given to humankind to make fertile, subdue, subjugate, and use for food and clothing.

His green eyes glittered. "I am a Jester for the people." He murmured. "I don't understand how some can be so prideful and think that they stand so high over others of their same kind just because they are... 'pure'..." The boy's brows creased. "Perhaps I have no right to speak out on it, then I would be a heretic too... but... I don't think I can stay silent." It was like a fire in his chest, an incessant drum that insisted on being heard like the bagpipes of war. "It would just explode from me spontaneously even if I wanted to keep it inside. And I want to let it sing."

"But I find the ones that need it most. Who need to see and hear and witness. I don't care what happens to me, so long as I find the ones that need it most and help them. That's my happiness, I suppose. Maybe that's my mission." He sighed. "But I'll have to wait until I'm out of here, I guess." He hummed to himself.

Aida suggested casting the severing spell to free her bracelet. Naturally, Piérre did not want to threaten either the safety of the girl nor his instrument. "Are you sure you can't reach a clasp? Even if it fell in the chamber we could get it out by tipping the instrument out. I don't want to break something that means something to you." His voice resonated with worry. "But yes, I will gladly play for you when I get you out; without hurting you, me, or the instrument. Haha! If you could shapeshift into a small animal it would be so easy for you to get your hand out wouldn't it?" He teased lightly. "Hm... maybe a Slippery Jinx would help? Let me see... Lubricus!" Piérre snagged his wand and traced the sigil at Aida's hand while incanting the spell 28 Wisdom, Success.

"Maybe this will help get your hand out, now that it's slippery and can slide around a bit better." He tried to affirm cheerfully. Surely this was the time that something would work out for Piérre and his attempts at problem solving. It was a scarce victory... surely he was due for at least one, right?

At hearing the girl ask if he was sick in a very enthused and matter-of-fact way, Piérre raised a brow before sniffing and then coughing to the side again. "Uhhhhhhh... I feel under the weather, but I think I'm fine? Probably just a bug or something, I don't think it's anything serious." He shrugged. "I've been sick in the past before, I'm sure I'll get over it just fine; I'm young and healthy still." He teased himself. "I'd be very disappointed in myself if I just dropped dead because of a little cough and sneeze. I'd never live it down." But he shook his head. "Don't worry about it, I'll be fine. A little extra sleep, some soup... It'll be good."

Never mind the fact that when he wanted to sit down and eat, he never felt hungry enough to do it even though he knew that he should have.

Unable to read Piérre’s expression and tone, Aida concluded that the elf-eared boy didn’t really understand what flirting was either. With an innocent giggle, the wix had to throw that one back into the big bucket of worldly mysteries for another day since he presented an even better topic next. Barely containing the urge to bounce with excitement, Aida nodded wildly.

“A werewolf?! Oh yeah! That would be fantastic! What I wouldn’t do to be anything but human. Oh yes, but you could be a very fine puffin! I wanna see it. Still... a bird but more colorful... what about a hummingbird?” The Britalian explained that his wish to fly was stronger than other means of locomotion, saying he’d like to go into the calm above thunderclouds and see dawn and dusk “undefiled by the muckiness of everything beneath it.” Aida’s face grew serious and, crossing both legs, sat totally still.

“Yeah. Muckiness. People. We keep destroying the land and water and air, taking and taking and taking from all the other creatures that are just trying to live in their homes.” Scheherazade turned her head to look at Aida, then stared into Piérre’s emerald eyes with her own the color of liquid flame, questioning. In turn, the boy wiggled his finger and clicked his tongue at the desert tawny owl while Figaro considered whether or not to strike. The wide eyes of the little owl showed both vulnerability and resolve, but above all, seemed to be asking Piérre’s deepest self what he, as a human, would do.

When the boy went on to speak about people that worked in harmony with animals, he drew Figaro into pressing its forehead into his hand. Scheherazade’s head rolled to one side and blinked with careful consideration. Certainly the cat began to purr, but what really was the nature of their relationship?

“Friends can be friends no matter the species. I can’t believe how many times I have to tell that to people. I’ve just seen… people who say that they care turn around and take advantage, even for no good reason at all…” A shiver ran down the white wix’s spine. “And it’s not meat nor hunting that I have a problem with. Taking what you need to live is a fact of life. It’s just… do humans really need all this? So much is wasted and destroyed for no true need, and the cruel ways they do things just to minimize their own effort… Billions of animals live in a state of living hell every day because people don’t want to spare themselves profit. What do they do with their wealth then, once they’ve claimed it? Do they use it to benefit the world from which they ruthlessly took, or would they rather satisfy their own vanity? What do you do with the life you were given?”

Aida listened quietly, closely considering him with blueberry-indigo eyes questioning him with the same vulnerable stare as Scheherazade. A Jester for the people? One who finds who needs to see and hear and witness the most? Perhaps they were not so different, using their respective skill sets for those they were best positioned to help.

Piérre went on to cast the slippery jinx successfully, and at last Aida was able to free their slim white hand from inside the mandolin. Carefully wiggling from side to side, the wix didn’t injure the instrument in the slightest on the way out.

“Yay, thank you!” chirped the white wix with all the splendor of morning birdsong. Eyes lighting up with recognition, Aida immediately forgot the humble bracelet that still hung inside the mandolin, blue weaves of plant fiber caught on a small interior angle.

Reducio

“See, that’s exactly what I want to do. Set creatures free. But you… hang on, wait wait, are you sick?” For all the humility of Piérre’s denial, Aida’s nose still crinkled. “You look sick. I bet you're sick. You don’t smell right. I think there’s something really wrong with you. I know what people with normal sicknesses smell like, and you’re… no, you should really get that checked out.” Leaning in inquisitively, Aida’s nose came in close to get some good sniffs in. “I’m not sure what it is, but I want to help you get better. Do you think a healing charm would help?”

@Aida Mórsgor-Ama Ellwood

House Colours: Gryffindor

Calming Presence in Effect

"A hummingbird, huh?" Piérre considered it for a moment. "I've... never thought about that before..." He mused to himself, recalling the jewel-like birds that he had only seen pictures and videos of but had never seen one for himself. The only thing similar to a hummingbird that he was familiar with was a hummingbird hawkmoth, a species of moth native to Europe that looked like the tiny bird, but could not in reality be farther from it. After a small consideration there was a bit of a smile. "Being so smol and being able to fly? Awww... That would be so fun!" He laughed aloud despite the slight rasp in his voice thanks to his congestion.

Seeing that the tiny tawny owl wasn't interested in his offer of pettings, Piérre didn't try to pursue the creature that didn't want his physical attention and put his hand back to his lap so that the little animal didn't feel threatened. Figaro was happier with this turn of events, to be sure; it gave the cat more excuse to demand more attention from his owner. The feline couldn't be having other animals snatching away his time with his human brother, after all.

Piérre's brow creased a bit at Aida's words, and he found himself nodding ever so slightly even though there were obviously bits and pieces of her words that Piérre could take some level of argument with. Maybe it was because he was such a painful optimist, but Piérre didn't like to think that even the worst of people were truly evil to their core. Surely there was something good about everyone, even if they were rough, cruel, and outwardly wicked. After all... even criminals had a mother.

"We live in a fallen world." Piérre sighed a little bit. "As much as I'd love to say that we live in a world that can become perfect eventually... but... I don't think that can happen, at least not without divine intervention." He smiled lightly. "Yeah... I did say 'Divine Intervention'... sounds kind of ridiculous, I know..." Wouldn't have been the first time he had been scoffed at for saying this sort of thing before, were he to be honest; the Muggle public school system had impressed that much on him so far. "If it was in my power to save every animal and every child and to give them a better place to live in safety and comfort, I would. In a heartbeat." And he really meant it. He knew how much he had wanted a stable home, how he had had a stable home and how much it had helped him in his youngest developmental years. "If I could change hearts with a snap of my fingers, I would... But that's not how humans work. In that sense... we're like animals ourselves; driven by habit, a need to survive, a need to horde, and a need to impress and dominate one another. The only thing is that humans are the animals that are better at that than most others, and they're often the ones at the top of the food chain because of it." Piérre smiled almost wittily. "And then we get controlled by disasters of our own making; famine, greed, plague, radiation and pollution, the need to dominate... the things that make us great also lay us low."

He sniffled. "I hope that one day we will find the balance between the two; being responsible enough to use what we have properly and also be able to create constantly renewable energy so that we can focus on world improvement... but we aren't there yet... at least Muggles aren't." The kid wasn't really sure about much insofar as political tensions concerning global warming and all the debates that happened over it, but he knew enough to know that it would be ideal one day, one day when it was achievable.

If it was sustainable, surely measures would be taken to slowly transition from 'fossil fuels' to 'natural energy', right? If not, then surely the 'natural energy' wouldn't be enough to sustain the amount of factory work and production that humans had to keep up with, and so they had to rely on slightly dirtier resources that they had on hand. "I do really wish that I could stand on my own one day; I don't even think I want to live in a house, especially if I end up as an animagus." He shrugged, strumming the mandolin once more after freeing Aida's hand. His fingers brushed up against a soft thread bracelet. "Oh...." Piérre remarked, hooking it with thin fingers and proceeding to fish it out with relative ease now that the hand wasn't there to hold it stubbornly in place. He held it between himself and Aida, waving it back and forth slightly. "Is this yours?" He asked with a raised brow. "I'm not a niffler... so I'm sort of obligated to ask if you want it back I guess..."

Leaning back a bit as Aida leaned in, Piérre nearly crossed his eyes as Aida sniffed him a bit. It was a bit odd, but the boy didn't think that the pale girl meant any harm by it... it was kind of pleasantly strange. Not a normal sickness? "Huh? What do you mean 'not a normal sickness'? It's just a stomach bug, I'm sure. It'll be fine; I might throw up once if it's related to food poisoning, but..." Piérre creased his brow at wonder at the words. "I don't want to go to the Hospital Wing." He stated bluntly with a glimmer of suspicion in his eye. "Mmmmmaybe a healing charm could help? I don't know how to treat 'not normal diseases'..." He trailed off before turning aside again and coughing into his shoulder again. His head hurt as he did so; probably a headache due to dehydration or the like. He would have to drink a bit more water, probably. "I think it'll go away eventually, really I think it will." He tried to affirm his previous claims to the best of his ability but was sensing that he wasn't doing a good job of it.

"Hey look, I'm just fine. See, I'll play a song to you to prove it, okay?" So saying, Piérre tried to resettle into a comfortable playing position, rubbing his eyes slightly as he brought the mandolin into a playable stance. With a small clearing of his throat, Piérre picked up the pick from its previous tumbled location and lightly traced the strings of the mandolin so that it made the scarcest of sounds. After testing it to make sure that it was still in tune after its traumatic experiences (and then retuning it again to make doubly sure), Piérre tried to remember bits and pieces of songs he had heard on the streets and how their hands had moved when playing. He had been practicing this song in particular, but he was still kind of slow at making it sound 'natural' and not clunky with the obvious fingers of a new player in action. It was a song that was usually played somewhere between 169-170bpm in 3/4 time... but Piérre was taking it a bit slower at 145bpm at the same time.

Angelaré:

It had a strange effect; while it was not how it would sound if heard in concert or on a streetside from a professional musician, it actually sounded like a strange serenade closer to a gentle ballad. There were no words that went along with this song, it was simply a delightful melody, but Piérre hummed with it nonetheless and rocked a little bit in time with the melody. Closing his eyes, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember the right places to put his fingers and he winced at every error that he made that forced him to stop and retry the fingering so that he could continue the correct way. In total, there were at least six audible places where Piérre had faltered in his music, either because he couldn't remember where to put his fingers, because he was slightly distracted by the fact that he was performing for someone, or perhaps because he was indeed a little bit under the weather and was struggling to focus through his little bit of a headache.

When he finished, Piérre opened his eyes again but did not muffle the sound of the mandolin, letting it ring into the air and die on its own and free to resonate as it liked. After a few moments of silence, Piérre quietly began to put the instrument away. "Angelaré, it's a traditional song." He said simply while Figaro sniffed at Aida again, booping his slightly cold and wet nose against her bicep as he tried to mark her scent for later reference. Piérre smiled a bit. "I want to get good enough that I can compose something brand new on my own. Something that's just made-up, random, and can't ever be repeated again. A true improvisation that's one of a kind and unique." Sort of what he aspired to be, in a way.

Getting to his feet from his crisscross position without using his hands, Piérre picked up his mandolin and shyly rocked back and forth a bit. "Well... it was nice to meet you, Aida and ZaZa." Piérre nodded to both the human and her owl. "Thanks for not... drawing a moustache on my face or anything while I was asleep or something... I know a few kids that would have done that in you situation, including myself." He managed a wide, enthused smile. "I promise I won't die from this, even if it's not a 'normal' ailment; I cross my heart!" Piérre traced his thumbnail over his heart in a little 'X' before holding up three finger's in a "Scout's Honor" poise. "Scout's honor!" A small wink.

Eventually, however, Piérre would have to leave. It was probably encroaching on midday and the boy did have quite a bit of homework to do. This he would express, and though he was very bad at parting ways, somehow he would finally extricate himself from the pleasant social encounter even though he didn't really want to. However, Piérre was more than certain that he would run into Aida again... somehow he always seemed to run into individuals like her whether he liked it or not. It was almost like an invisible magnet drawing their kind together; Piérre just seemed to attract that sort of thing and it was not unwelcome in the slightest.

Maybe had had run across a new friend that day, someone who was just a little strange like him; someone that not many people saw or knew to exist. It was a strange position to be in; a world between worlds in a place where one was in an odd Schrödinger's box of simultaneously existing and not existing at the same time until they were finally noticed. Even then... did people really care or were they simply another strange face in the crowd, another oddity to ignore, another child in the crowded corridors of Hogwarts? Perhaps Piérre was... but truthfully...

He liked it that way.

Maybe it was better that way.

A Gryffindor-clad-boy fluttered back to the Gryffindor portrait-hole with all the grace of a hummingbird... a now idea percolating in his mind concerning what kind of creature he did indeed have the closest connection to... was it indeed that tiny colorful bird, even if he had never seen it before? A shiny little flying bird that seemed almost like a twinkling rainbow if spotted out of the very corner of one's eye.

Piérre Exits the Thread

Aida listened closely as the green-eyed jester spoke of living in a fallen world that would require divine intervention to perfect.

"Yeah... I did say 'Divine Intervention'... sounds kind of ridiculous, I know..."

“Ridiculous? Why? There are a lot of strange phenomena people struggle to understand. Still, maybe the world doesn’t have to be perfect, but… if humans could just show more respect and less cruelty… is that too much to ask?”

Piérre went on to speak about his view of the human condition, and like Aida, the desert tawny owl continued to stare at him. It was only after the boy explained that he hoped people would find balance between their needs and taking care of the natural world that Scheherazade hopped over to him, jumping up onto his knee and sinking down with a soft hoot. Any head scritchins from that point on would be well received.

“I know what you mean about not even wanting to live in a house. I want to keep roaming, too.”

The boy freed Aida’s hand from the mandolin and held up the blue fiber bracelet, waving it back and forth.

"Is this yours? I'm not a niffler... so I'm sort of obligated to ask if you want it back I guess..." The wix’s indigo eyes glowed for a moment at the mention of nifflers, then nodded.

“Keep it! My gift to you for freeing me.”

Aida went on to sniff the sick boy and recommend he get checked up, but of all people, the white wix couldn’t blame Piérre for not wanting to go to the hospital wing. His rendition of Angelaré, though beautiful, only served to bring out the truth of how the illness was affecting his ability to perform in life. Both the wix and Scheherazade seemed soothed by his mandolin playing, however, and Aida was beginning to hum parts of it by the end. When Figaro came up for a wet nose boop, Aida offered some gentle petting around the cat’s head and along its back for good measure.

“Thanks, Elfy! That was pretty. Just keep learning and I’m sure one day you’ll be good at composing your own stuff. You’re definitely sick though, I can tell. Still, I know. The hospital wing is terrible. You can’t trust what they’ll do to you. Really, you shouldn’t be eating the food at Hogwarts either, or letting house elves do anything on your behalf. What they do is way worse than drawing mustaches on you while you’re asleep. Anyway, it’s better to make friends with strong healers that you really know. I can cast it, if that’s okay with you.” OOC permission granted With Piérre’s agreement, Aida then drew an ancient chestnut wand and produced a respectable reparifors charm (1d20+10=>17) with the aim of clearing up as much of the boy’s symptoms as possible. “I don’t know how much that really addresses the root problem, but hopefully you’ll feel a little better anyway… If there’s someone in your family who’s a gifted healer, you might want to have them do a more professional job. Sorry I can’t do more. I mostly treat non-humans and I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

When Piérre gathered his things to leave, Aida bade him a fond farewell, clearly having enjoyed meeting him. He didn’t feel like other humans. There was something soothing about being around him, and he was a much more colorful, interesting creature as well. Surely he would make a magnificent hummingbird, figured the Ravenclaw. Wandering out into the grounds of Hogwarts, Aida went on to think more about their interactions and what the boy had said about the state of the world and humans… and it would only be a matter of time until they would meet again.

Aida leaves the thread.