Once Lost Fin.

Grief. So well documented, and frequently studied. A concept that nobody, no matter how young or old or collected or otherwise can escape. It comes with any for of loss, whether a simple transient loss of dignity in a brief moment of embarrassment that would be forgotten by the day's end; or the lingering and dynamic cycle accompanying an earth-shattering, life-altering change. Like the loss of a best friend. And yet, with all its prevalence, it remains one of those truths from which so many run, and so few are willing to explore. Evelynn foremost among them.

The gentle lap of water over nearby pebbles served as a calming, ambient noise as the girl contemplated this greater truth. Hard bark dug into her back, and roots disrupted what could have been almost comfortable seating, but she didn't even notice. High above, clouds had collected like a soothing blanket over the highlands, and for a moment, she thought she saw the silhouette of a pale bird soaring across the nebulous backdrop. There was no mistaking the winter chill, but somehow it always seemed just a little bit warmer on an overcast day. And as though mirroring the sorrow that had settled in her heart, the clouds wept.

It was beautiful in a way. Bittersweet. Flakes of snow drifted languidly from the heavens, jostled on a breeze and occasionally plucked by the naked branches that stood sentinel over her current sanctuary; but they didn't remain. By the time they reached the ground, they had melted. She'd never felt so grateful. The cold pinched her cheeks until they were red, and icy rain misted her cheeks. A passing peer would never even realize that something was amiss. So long as she remained quiet, she need not fight the grief.

Still, she would have rathered anger over sorrow. That didn't hurt as much. Knees bent as she pulled her legs up to her chest, the back of her head tapping lightly on the tree trunk. Her musings on grief slipped back to the letter and its subject, and all over again a knife darted into her core, cold and unforgiving. Brows creased, and tears welled and overflowed. Nostrils flared as she tried to keep her breathing steady. She couldn't. It broke, a sob escaping through pursed lips before she could trap it once again.

Eyes shut tight. Anger was so much easier. Why did she have to play with chance? Her head rocked back to hit the tree again. She was so stupid. What was she trying to do, anyway? What was a letter possibly going to accomplish? Yes, she knew the benefit of journaling. Of putting thought to paper. She'd tried it. How many pages she had filled in the days—weeks—following. It only seemed to pull her further down. That effort had been abandoned long ago. She wasn't even sure where her journal was at this point.

All that the letter had accomplished was to bring it all back to the forefront again, images playing across the back of shut eyelids as though it were happening again in real time. She couldn't keep her eyes closed. And the world was a swimming blur when they opened. Fingers dug at the frozen ground beside her, chipped nails biting at the dirt and stones and roots. Eventually the numbness would set in again, ideally the emotional before the physical. But for now, she just sat in her hovel at the base of a tree by the lake.

@Evelynn Decipio

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	As he glided, the bird felt fine mist accumulate on his feathers, only to slide off again in a trail of icy droplets. A flight like this would have been soothing were it not for the circumstance. Becoming an animagus had changed him in more ways than one, though it was especially obvious in his change of behavior. The teen's sense of childhood wonder had been hollowed out by the tragedies in his bloodline, the horrors of Hogwarts, and the loss of a few friends along the way. He had hermitized himself away for most of his fourth year, driven into isolation by one too many misfortunes. Yet the more he watched from these detached heights, the more he was inspired to rejoin it. Pericles regretted not checking on Eve earlier, though there was still a chance to track her down now, and finding that letter gave him all the motivation he needed to do so. He knew how it felt to be reaching out for someone that was no longer there. Sometimes I find us sitting together, your hand in mine, looking out across the lake. Following the text, the eagle curved its flight to follow along the hills overlooking the lake, coasting until it spotted a spark of red hair against the drab backdrop. It alighted the boughs of the tree she was leaning against only to hesitate. Peri weighed his words first, afraid to say something wrong. So often he struggled with knowing what to say. It was difficult to help others with their worries, because he spent so much time ignoring his own, but anything ought to be better than letting her drown in it alone. Through her teary vision, a large white blur fell from the branches and landed on the ground ahead. The animagus resumed his human form, the slate gray of eagle wings giving way to the hem of a long gray coat. "Eve?" He took tentative steps nearer to the nook, looking her over in search of something else to say. Are you okay? Obviously she wasn't. I read your incredibly personal note? He wasn't trying to add insult to her injury. As Peri came closer, he eventually settled lamely on: "It's too cold to be out here without winter robes." He'd so far decided against mentioning the letter now hidden in his pocket, though his expression was concerned and his speech came softly, posture cautious as someone trying to close the gap between themselves and a flighty animal... or a dangerous one.
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Branches chattered overhead. Evelynn paid them little mind. When the wind picked up and sent the boughs to swaying, they had clamoured and clacked against each other, like children playing at sticks in some far-off distant memory. She hadn't even consciously made note of the noise again as an eagle settled into their midst, no doubt equating it to the wind. But even through blurred vision, the pale form that fell swiftly to the ground a little ways ahead could not be so easily tuned out.

Reflex seized her then, the instinctual bid for survival that had so frequently and thoroughly been sewn through her being during her years at Hogwarts commanding her to react defensively. As the form shifted and grew, several things happened simultaneously. A hand threw itself to the inside lining of her boot, pulling from it the black polished walnut wand she kept concealed therein; her right sleeve lifted to hastily wipe the film of tears and melted snow from her face, although never pulling her eyes off the intruder; and she launched herself to her feet.

Or tried to, at the very least. Unfortunately, between the way her knees had been pulled in with her robes pulled down around them, her back firmly against coarse bark that preferred to grab and hold textiles rather than let them smoothly slide along, and the half frozen ground, her attempt to rise resulted in getting caught up on the bark, stepping on her hem, and her other foot slipping on a slick bit of root. That extra layer of helplessness flashed in brief panic across her features as her weight fell firmly back into the seat from which she'd hoped to rise.

Fortunately, sense was quick to push aside reactivity, and no spell slung itself from the wand pointed defiantly towards what was now quite clearly one Pericles Dralt. Relief loosed itself in an exasperated sigh. Not entirely unlike she had just completed a particularly demanding quidditch practice, plumes of frosty breath expelling itself through parted lips with every mildly laborious rise and fall of her chest. A steely gaze laced bore into the boy, brow crinkling slightly.

The grip on her wand relaxed, but she did not immediately lower it. Her eyes followed his cautious approach, expression carefully guarded. She did not lift her chin as the gap closed, instead looking up at him from below her lashes; and when that was no longer an option, she allowed the eye contact to break, hand lowering with it.

"You ought not sneak up on a girl," she countered with a growl, sliding her wand back out of sight. "And I could say the same to you."

A distinctly bitter note had overtaken the generally melodic intonation of her speech as she attempted to restore any semblance of dignity by adjusting her robes and tucking herself back into as comfortable a position as she could. Currently, Dralt was standing between her and an easy exit and she'd already demonstrated her incompetence at even rising. What was more, it wasn't hard to put two and two together of what had just happened, and the potential implication. "How long have you been there?"

@Evelynn Decipio

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	Of all the perks there were to duelling, most valued by Pericles was the chance to hone one's muscle memory. Evelynn's hand made a sudden movement, and his nearly did the same, twitching reflexively towards the wand hidden in his right sleeve. Instead, both of his arms shot up in a pose of surrender. Straight posture was forfeited for something more fluid, a bend in his knees and hunch to his shoulders, stance ready to dodge... or lax enough that a spell wouldn't hurt so badly if he failed. Dangerous it is, the bird thought grimly. Only, Eve was unable to send something his way. Her fall made him flinch. He watched her eyes display in quick succession panic, then recognition, before settling on something sharp and warding. Peri's palms remained pacifying as he offered an uneasy smile, glancing to her wand and back as he requested: "Save that for the piste, please." She reprimanded him for sneaking, and while he hadn't tried to be covert, the end result had been the same. He'd startled her. "Sorry... I hadn't meant to." The cadence of his apology was practiced; this was something he was used to saying sorry for. Pericles had always been unintentionally soft of step, and by now, he'd lost track of the number of times he accidentally alarmed someone. The Ravenclaw had a bad habit of just appearing, his gliding gait often rendering him unnoticeable until someone gasped or yelped. Eve deflected his lame attempt at bridging the gap by pointing out his lack of winter wear, at which he could only shrug and sheepishly tug in the flimsy gray jacket . When she went on to demand how long he'd been there, Peri answered instantly, speed implying honesty. "Only seconds. I just flew in, though we passed in the Great Hall, and you didn't seem to see me." He tried to place the source of bitterness in her voice. Anger? No, not sharp enough, too forced and hurting. She hadn't wanted to know how long he'd been around, she'd wanted to know how much he'd seen, evident in the way she aggressively wiped the evidence from her face. She didn't want to be seen this way. She didn't want to be thought of as weak, Peri presumed, the root of the issue being that she believed self-expression to be a weakness. He could only make an educated guess, but in this front, it was one based on experience. Resilient Eve, cast in a role where she was expected to never to waver, falter, or break. His hands eventually drifted back down to his sides, one slipping into a pocket to squash down the letter hidden there. If she didn't want to be seen crying, she definitely wouldn't have wanted him to have read that. "This sleet is miserable. We should head inside before it freezes on your face." He tapped a finger to his own cheek, trying to do her the service of pretending her tears were merely rain, and took another chance at coming closer. "Please...?" Peri said it a second time, only now it wasn't tacked onto a line meant to alleviate tension. Cold droplets dotted an outstretched hand.
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The answer came quickly. In one respect, that was a good thing. Dralt had taken no pause before provisioning his response, no moment of hesitation required to straighten out his story to deliver what it was that he thought she would want to hear. Whatever he'd had to say, it was likely to be the truth, or at the very least, very close to it. Under usual circumstances, Evelynn would have taken solace in that fact.

Unfortunately, this situation was far from commonplace for her. What was more, his response had been too quick. Like a child sputtering an explanation after being caught by a parent with his hand in the cookie jar when he was dutifully trying to return the treats a little sister had been trying to sneak, Dralts' words sounded laced with platitude. He hadn't taken her query as a mere curiosity. He was trying to diffuse the situation, to reassure her. Evelynn grimaced, shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly as her veil of dignity started slipping from her fingers. Evidently only seconds had been needed for him to see all that he'd needed to see. She'd always known him to be clever and perceptive. There was no wonder why it was the form of an eagle into which he'd been drawn.

This conclusion only solidified with his elaboration. If they had passed in the Great Hall during her exit, it meant he had been on his way in. Yet here he was. Not only had he spent only a shorter duration in the hall than would have been reasonable given the activity therein, the allusion was that he'd left in order to specifically come searching after her. Something he—nor anyone else—had not previously sought to do. She had zero doubt that he would not have done so without reason.

Yet, whether her assumption was correct or not, he made no direct allusion to such knowledge. Was he simply being polite? Gaze pulling from his, it dropped to his raised hands—further evidence of an attempt to dissuade any overt dramatics on her part. They followed his movement as he tapped a finger to his cheek. Mirroring him, her own hand lifted then, fingers touching at the film of moisture. Her attention fell to them as they pulled away, fingertips rubbing lightly together. Was she still crying? She wasn't even sure at this point, how much of the moisture on her face was tears, and how much was courtesy of the weather.

For better or worse, Dralts' approach was met with no immediate reaction. As he expressed his second plea, however, she returned her sights upon the eagle, first to the extended hand hovering between them, then past it to him. Silence spanned without movement or reaction for one breath, and then a second. On the third, she expelled a quiet sigh, eye contact broken. A defiant shadow of her past self presented the temptation to tell him off and swat his hand away, or to simply ignore him altogether. That notion was laid quickly to rest, acknowledged as a reflex of lingering immaturity. He had done nothing wrong. Quite the contrary, in fact, having only ever displayed composed propriety. He reminded her of Flash in that regard.

"Very well," she acquiesced, weary. Begrudgingly, she slung the leather strap of her bag over her shoulder, placed her hand in his, and allowed him to help her to rise. Made acutely aware of just how cold her fingers must have been by how relatively warm he was, she would endeavor to spare him the discomfort of any prolonged contact and pull her hand back as soon as she had found stable enough footing to do so. Which may have been sooner than actually reasonable, given another slip of her sole on another—or maybe the same—slick root. Prepared and upright this time, she would support herself with the trunk as she extricated herself completely from the base of the tree.

A number of questions and quips rose to her tongue, each one vying to be spoken. No doubt the temperature of the air would have risen at least a degree or two if they had, but each one was swallowed down. She wasn't certain she wished to know the answers to some of them. The rest were simply unnecessary—reflections and projections, she knew, of her frustrations and insecurities. And so she walked in silence, head bowed against the elements. Lured from the—albeit meager—protection that had been afforded her by the tree and its canopy, the wind bit through the clinging, rain-soaked fabric, and sleet lashed at exposed skin. In a way, she welcomed it. All the same, she pulled up her hood and crossed her arms, hands tucking themselves protectively against her body, as gooseflesh erupted and shivering began to set in.

"You should fly." Unless Dralt had already beaten her to it, Evelynn would break the silence with her dulled suggestion. "On ahead." Her hooded gaze remained fixed to the ground a couple meters ahead of her, just as it had since the beginning of her slow procession back to the castle. "Spare yourself."

@Evelynn Decipio

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	An answer was tucked between the layers of his composure. It was in the empathy burning behind his sleepy eyes, the way he hauled her to her feet even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself, the haste in his answer she'd so keenly taken note of. When combined, the unspoken sentence seemed to be I know. Knew what? Something that sent him out after her, something she knew better than to ask about outright. He knew she wouldn't like the answer, and so did Eve. Pericles had smiled contentedly when she relented, relieved at the lack of a fight, patient as ever. If eerily knowing. When she nearly slipped, he snagged her elbow, waiting until her boots found traction in the slush. It crunched soggily as they turned in tandem towards the castle. The lion and eagle went a ways in silence, but the boy didn't mind, as comfortable in the quiet as he was in conversation. He looked surprised when she broke it, taken aback by the suggestion to leave her behind. Peri wasn't about to give up on his objective when they were already halfway home. Despite having said nothing for the duration of their walk, he cordially declined, "Oh, no thank you. I could use the company." He couldn't use the freezing rain intent on sinking into his flimsy clothes, on the other hand. After a thoughtful frown between them both, that aspen wand was pulled from his sleeve after all, flicked skyward with the incantation "Pluvia Velo." A ghostly stem of magic extended and bloomed into a translucent umbrella. With a That settles it smirk, Peri placed himself near enough to her right side that they would both be covered, far enough not to touch save an occasional elbow bump. "Eve...?" The peace had given him time to think. Her lack of prying enabled him to come up with a creative solution, though their lack of familiarity meant these were uncertain grounds, so he was still carrying himself with caution. Peri evidently had experience with being snapped at by unstable peers, if their last duel was anything to go by. He was braced for the pushback, steeling himself for resistance. At least she showed grace and restraint in spite of her vulnerable state. "Did you go to the Fall Ball?" It might have been small talk coming from anyone else, but Pericles asked with intent, turning a focused frown her way. He slowed his step even though a doorway loomed just ahead.
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The declination to her suggestion somehow came as no surprise. If he had been driven enough to seek the skies in this weather to seek her out despite their relative unfamiliarity, it would have come as a surprise if he so easily relinquished whatever it was that had pushed him to do so in the first place. As much as she had hoped he would bite at the bait, a small part of her respected his dedication. There was no question that if she found herself in a similar situation, she would have replied just the same.

"Mn..." She frowned nevertheless, teeth clenching to resist any chattering.

Noting from her peripheries the movement to reach for his sleeve, she loosened the clenched fingers hidden beneath her arms and tried to relax her posture. Although only having participated in dueling for a short duration, her presence as a spectator had been consistent enough to know without question where he stored his wand. Trust was not something that came easily, and while he had never done anything to suggest animosity or ulterior motives, one could never be too careful. Wary and ready to retrieve her own, she watched from the corner of her eye as he manipulated the implement and summon...

...an umbrella.

"Ah.." The breath Evelynn hadn't realized she was holding released itself with something almost akin to a defeated scoff. Well, if there had been any question as to whether he would still take up her offer to cut his walk short and take to the air, it was shot down right there. Stubbornly decisive, it seemed. And smug about it, apparently. She was stuck with him, then. "Strange..." Sardonic notes began to wake, injecting a touch of life into her tone as she commented on his choice of company.. "...and here I would have thought the Great Hall, with peers in the midst of festive preparation, would have provided opportunity for just that."

Evidently, she couldn't quite keep all of her quips to herself. The closer they got to the castle, the further the sorrow seemed to lag behind, cynicism seeping into its place. It was a familiar feeling, and one she usually kept cloaked. If she was to walk amidst her peers again, she would pull it tightly around her. It was comfortable, but cast an edge to her features. Especially as she considered how she was going to spend the rest of the day. Or where. There were only so many places in the castle one could go for peace when so many others sought the same. Perhaps she'd simply retreat to her dorm. For one reason or another, the Nundu Niche had not been a popular option this year. But that served her well en—

"..hm?" The sound of her name pulled her from her thoughts, and with it came the realization that cold droplets had begun to gather on her cheeks once more. No longer did a magical barrier shield her from the sleet. She turned her attention to where Dralt had been only to see him lagging in his steps. Her own ceased.

Then he posed such a peculiar question. The faintest creases appeared between her brows as she studied him, providing him no answer initially. Suspicion swirled within her eyes as they moved back and forth between each of his as though trying to see through to the thoughts behind them. That he would ask specifically about that one—the first one that she hadn't attended—struck her as a bit too on point.

"No," she finally answered, and for a moment, it might seem that would be the extent of her reply. Something tugged at the back of her thoughts, though, a darkness she'd thought long dormant creeping back up to the realm of possibility. And for the first time in some time, a larger concern offered momentary reprieve from the emptiness that enveloped the reason she'd abstained from the school dance. "Did something happen?"

@Evelynn Decipio

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	Eve's quip only made that subtle grin grow. Pericles didn't mind it, as witticism was the sign of an intelligent mind at work, though he served it back just as smoothly. The suggestion that he could have found all the company he needed in the Great Hall had him shaking his head, countering, "Not the kind of company I was looking for." Mingling with some stranger over what color of icing they'd choose, conversation as artificially sweet as the toppings? Hard pass. Pursuing Eve after she stormed into the snow came easier, one storm cloud trailing after another. When she turned back about with that scrutinizing stare, he stilled, unwavering. The Gryffindor had a go at telepathically dissecting him, but the Ravenclaw was resolute. Her silver stare was a scalpel. His was a mirror, giving nothing while he waited on an answer. The one she gave was met with a nod- approval, this enabled whatever he'd had in mind- alongside a muttered "Good." It was a gamble. They knew one another through sharing a year, and as a result, attending the same classes. Prefect meetings, sleuth sessions on old school mysteries, a handful of duels and a horseback ride. It wasn't lost on him that this was one of the more personable interactions they'd had to date, but that didn't deter him. Eve was a number of things: sharp, critical, and guarded. The letter in his pocket served as a tangible reminder that she was also human. Peri shook his head again at the next question, evidently the wrong one. "It was an absolute disaster, like the rest of them, but that isn't important. Are you up to anything else tonight?" A quick crunch of timeframes in his head; sunset was around five, dinner at six, curfew at eight. He pointed back the way they'd came, finger jutting towards the nook he'd found her hiding in. "Will you meet me there around, let's say, seven? With winter wear this time, I'd suggest. I think I found something of yours."
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Much to her dismay, her rising fear was confirmed. It would be one thing to say that a ball was a disaster. She had suffered the ululations of past dormmates bemoaning how so-and-so hadn't asked them to dance or how they had stained their dress, and therefore the entire affair was a complete and utter catastrophe! But to hear such an observation from Dralt gave it actual credence. Something must have actually happened. And to suggest that it was like the rest of them resurrected the more sinister aspect hidden in the walls of Hogwarts Castle.

Already parting her lips to probe further and demand details, Evelynn jerked back slightly, as though avoiding something sharp, taken aback by the suggestion that it was not important. "It most certainl—pardon?"

A fresh layer of confusion lathered itself over the former at the question. She blinked, scrutiny returning, this time with quizzical overtones. Although her mind leapt through a plethora of reasons why he might be asking whether she had plans, every one of them found as solid of footing as she had earlier. That was to say, none at all. Fortunately for her, the mystery would not be left hanging in the air for long. No sooner had he inquired into her plans—which had, in fact, involved a dense agenda of brooding, likely with a dash of exploring the stone halls for secrets she had not yet discovered—did he suggest new ones.

Unfortunately for her, it left her even more off-guard than before. Eyes narrowed with cautious regard, mind quickly working through the inventory of her belongings in an attempt to swiftly identify anything she could possibly have misplaced. And to try to discern why he would call for such a delay. "Why not just return it now?"