Their Song Finished

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speech • #427c9a thoughts • italics others • #ffffff

november 14th, 2023 • date rehearsal room • location their song • thread

Ophelia decided that both the boys in the room had met before, obviously, and that they didn't like each other, which was another obvious point. The thing that she could not decide on, however, was the cause of their dislike. Matthew seemed to be a nice boy who enjoyed music. And the other boy, the one she didn't yet know the name of, seemed to be quite the same, if a little more quiet and reserved. To her, it didn't seem as if there was much differences to them. I don't know them though, she reasoned, still studying them both, momentarily forgetting the redhead's presence in the room. Maybe they were both victims to some unfortunate event.

The unnamed boy, walked closer with an unhappy air about him. Oh, Ophelia thought guiltily. Maybe he didn't want to be invited to speak with us after all. She had the feeling that whatever was going to happen between the boys was partially, if not wholly, her fault. Why couldn't she be quiet when she needed to be? Why was she shy at the worst times and inviting when no one wanted to be called out to? It was as if her brain was conspiring against her.

As he introduced himself with his full name, Archer Theodore Duncan, and held out a hand, Ophelia blinked. While she carried herself purposefully, she'd learned to be casual within Hogwarts, and such a formal greeting felt odd. Slowly, she reached out her own hand and shook his. "Ophelia Lynn Northwell." She added her middle and last names after a moment's hesitation, trying to mimic his. "Wonderful to meet you as well." Then, the boy moved on to greet the redhead girl.

As the boys began interacting with each other, Ophelia started paying attention. Would they drop hints to their prior meeting and what had gone wrong? Would they allude to it? Or, would they ignore whatever was bothering them, for the redhead's benefit, and her own, of course. As they spoke, she fought the feeling of disappointment. No drama here. While they spoke in clipped tones, their words were polite.

Matthew turned back towards her and Ophelia straightened, wondering what he would say to her. "I heard you singing with me!" She felt her face heat up. What had gotten into her today? Calling out to strangers? Humming in front of others? Talking to people? It was all very uncharacteristic of her. I need rest. Maybe all the homework was getting to her.

We must impress him? Ophelia swallowed, her eyes wide. Matthew wanted her to sing with him? In front of the redhead? And Archer? She blinked. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She'd never sang in front of an audience before, except her parents and sometimes her younger brother, Felix.

"Eh..." Ophelia hesitated, not knowing what exactly to say. Could she refuse without sounding mean? Would she freeze if she agreed to sing? What was the best way forward here? "Erm, well, one of my favourite songs is 'Lonely People,' by Imen Siar." It had called to her even when she'd been very little, since it was a song about, well, lonely people, a group that she'd associated herself with. "Only if you're familiar with it, of course."

interactions • @Matthew Campbell @Archer Duncan mentions • @Rowan Bellegno stats • sta 6 | eva 5 | str 6 | wis 7 | arc 6 | acc 5

518 • word count xxx • outfit perfectionist • abilities

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Mistakes. Archer didn't believe he had made that many in his eleven years of life. Yet now, as he stands before Matthew, he was painfully reminded of what could have been between them. If not for their tainted past, Archer would purely see his fellow Slytherin as an enthusiastic intellect fascinated by Defence Against the Dark Arts and with a talent for sketching. A perfectly fine, respectable young lad. Looking back on their conversation, Archer could not pinpoint where he had looked down upon Matthew. Nowhere had he insulted or degraded him; any feelings on his part should have purely been his incorrect understanding of Archer's words, meant to be harmful. The Duncan heir pretended that the events of that day was not one he still played through his mind. And far too much.

'Muggle music has a great deal of beauty in it, perhaps you would be interested. I don't suppose you play too?' The question caught Archer off guard. His tone sounded almost defensive, as if prepared to defend the art form if Archer was to disagree. He could not make out whether the subtle sadness in Matthew's undertone was genuine or sarcastic. Hoping for the former, Archer saw the muggle-born was just as nervous as he was, his fingers unconsciously rubbing on his palm. Both of them, after all, were relying on that sliver of hope that the other's words were sincere. Trying to relax his shoulders, Archer opted for the much more pleasant possibility. In this complete chance encounter, neither of them had any backup, any prepared arguments, any pursuits to insult each other.

A crescent of a smile tugged on his lips, more thin-lipped and tight-pressed than he would have preferred, but it was genuine, at least, nothing of Arianna's sardonic smirks that Matthew must have been disgusted to even lay eyes upon. 'I have never doubted that it is and, worry not Mister Campbell, I am already perfectly interested and have always been,' he said, his dark hazel eyes skipping across Matthew's face, trying to remember him afresh. Tousled brunet curls that had once seemed dishevelled were still as dishevelled as always, simply just under a new light. Hazel eyes, like Archer's reflected the gold glint in Archer's own, always seemingly half-there and half-wandering somewhere far away. 'Do people truly believe music - or any art form, for that matter - could be segregated by possession of magic?' The question came out as rhetorical, even though he meant it with genuine curiosity. 'By all means, I praise Muggle creators, for they are creating their own kind of magic themselves,' Archer said, desperate to forget the person at the other end of the conversation.

Archer's shoulders visibly stiffened as Matthew held out an unexpected hand. A brief elation spiralled itself up Archer's chest cavity, but dissipated just as swiftly when the boy flashed him a smile that was only polite. Archer did his best to return it, even though he could not say all of his spirits were in it. 'Archer, it's been a while. I hope you're well. Thank you, that means a lot.' It was difficult to make out whether the last statement was said in earnest or simply for the sake of polite conversation. Either way, indeed, it had been a while. Hope that Matthew had changed and grown - hope that he himself had changed and grown - was still deeply lodged in his chest.

Tentitavely, Archer reached out his own right hand and clasped it onto Matthew's. His lips briefly pressing into a line, Archer started softly, still uncertain of the gesture, before quickly morphing into his usual steady handshake, the one Papa had taught him to perfect. It wasn't too soft or hard, too revealing or cold, the perfect combination meant for strangers or acquaintances. 'Archer Theodore Duncan,' he said, his shoulders squaring, 'Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I don't believe we were properly introduced last time.' Archer did not know what Matthew was hoping to get out of his sudden politeness, but the Scottish boy decided to take this as a chance to finally start their relationship anew. He knew there was a fraction in both of their soul's that must have desperately wanted to move on from the events of that Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Perhaps forgetting was sometimes a blessing. 'Matthew,' he said finally, firmly, addressing the boy by his first name for the first time.

Archer watched in silence as Matthew turned to the dark-haired girl, his smile obviously grown much more genuine and lively. She had just introduced himself to Archer as Ophelia Lynn Northwell, though she seemed slightly unaccustomed to such formal greetings. Archer could not help but grimaced uncomfortably as Matthew suggested that they impress Archer, as if he was some child at a museum. Biting down on his lip from contradiction, that might as well break the whole relationship they had just attempted to scrap together and reestablish. He knew Matthew meant well, even as the brunette's eyes widened as she swallowed uncomfortably. Eventually, she suggested a song titled "Lonely People". 'Only if you're comfortable,' Archer said softly, purposefully blinking to subside a glare he was prepared to shoot at Matthew. 'There is no real need to impress me in the first place, when I already am,' he said, trying to put it as delicately as he could and not let distaste for Matthew's actions slide through.

'My music, my favorite music, is rock from the old years, country nowadays and operas, from always. Sometimes there is Jazz but little pop,' the redhead who had introduced herself as Rowan or "Row" shared as Archer turned towards her. Also enjoying jazz and opera, but not fully confident to share as much with a stranger, Archer simply nodded and simply provided, 'You have a very refined taste in music, miss.' He was suddenly reminded of that day after a pureblood gathering at the Swann manor, and how Maman and Papa had taken him to see La Forza del Destino, which just happened to be on show. Pushing that thought aside, Archer's eyes turned toward's Matthew once more as he spoke up.

'Well come on! We need suggestions, if you do play Archer I would be fascinated to hear some music from the magical world, perhaps I should look some sheet music out in the library later,' Matthew said, the question clearly directed towards him, his tone much lighter, which Archer took as a positive signal. 'I am afraid I do not play an instrument, nor are my vocal skills particularly decent,' Archer said dismissively. While the statement was true, he also did not feel comfortable being on an imaginary stage. Even three audiences member scared him, as the weight of his own shyness and sensitivity drooped on him.

Archer knew very well which piece of music was his favourite. He could not say for sure whether it was composed by Muggle or wixen, not when he did not even know its title. It starts with an almost whispered melody, serenely melancholic, before leading on to a brief respite, warm against the cool stillness of the first movement. The final movement would be an agitated, frantic, almost insane flurry of movements, as if a fish squirming upon the piano keys, instead of the pair of graceful hands that belonged to Maman. She told Archer she had heard it on her first date with Papa, atop a roof in Paris, gazing town at a street pianist while eating macrons.

Music, like any art form, was above all.

@Mathew Campbell @Ophelia Northwell @Rowan Bellegno

Note: Archer does listen to Muggle music, but don't expect him to know pop XD. Since the family's way of acquiring Muggle pieces is not as, say, efficient, he knows more older songs rather than new. He likes jazz and music from musicals/operas, especially the Phantom of the Opera, Les Misérables, and La Forza del Destino, most of all

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november 14th, 2023 • date rehearsal room • location their song • thread

Ophelia tried her best not to hyperventilate. When she'd decided to explore the castle earlier in the day, she hadn't planned on singing, especially for an audience that wasn't just herself. Calm down, Northwell. They won't judge you. They aren't even requiring you to sing. That much was clear from both Archer and Matthew's statements of reassurance. How could you have shown them that you're nervous so easily? They weren't supposed to be able to tell. But staying calm under pressure was definitely not one of her strengths. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment. Breathe.

Opening her eyes, Ophelia offered a hesitant smile to all the occupants of the room, which included both the uncertain boys and the redhead. She badly wanted to refuse their request for her singing, but she wouldn't. They had asked for her to sing and she would. You can do it, Oph. I believe in you. Pretend no one except the portraits are in this room. "It's alright. It's a wonderful piece, and I'd love to share it with you all."

As Matthew suggested that Rowan, the redhead girl, could play the piano afterwards, Ophelia felt a little better. She wasn't going to be the main act. Her singing wouldn't even be noticed. Rowan would play next, and if Archer had any musical talents, he might as well. This group didn't seem judging. They seemed nice and truly in love with music, as Ophelia herself was.

She nodded to Matthew as he got ready to begin playing. "I'll be ready whenever you are."

interactions • @Matthew Campbell mentions • @Rowan Bellegno @Archer Duncan stats • sta 6 | eva 5 | str 6 | wis 7 | arc 6 | acc 5

242 • word count xxx • outfit perfectionist • abilities

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Archer swallowed. The whole situation was starting to create discomfort. He understood the meeting was one purely of chance, and perhaps even in hopes of "truce" if not the spark of friendship. Matthew, despite the perilous air that hung between them, was trying his best to be welcoming and, if one can put it in such a way that almost villainises Archer, forgiving. Both of them had acknowledged the absurdity of feuding with who might as well be a stranger. With the duo being as similar as they were, they could very well have been allies and, dare he say, friends. Pity the opportunities Archer had lost. And for what? What had he gained? Apprehensively, he tugged on his cuffs, attempting to steady his breath. After a brief moment of awkwardness, he smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes. He did not speak, simply shifting his eyes as the conversation moved on, to his delight, from Mister Campbell.

Archer's brown eyes, adorned with flecks of gold and the occasional olive, drifted away from the discussion and to the grand windows of the Rehearsal Room as Matthew turned to face Ophelia and Rowan. He desperately wanted to sprint out of the ever-suffocating Hogwarts, despite its ever-present grandeur, and into the grounds that felt much more like home. His eyes narrowed, not at the scenery, nor at the enigma of a boy stood in front of him, nor at the two girls he barely knew, at himself. He was desperate to believe Matthew was genuine, and he would, even if he would be deceiving himself. The Duncan heir would yet to discover his fatal flaw at this era of his life: gullibility, although his next would be far worse. His eyes followed a small bluebird, fluttering from a branch and into the clear sky, free of social and academic burden, free of experiences as Archer was experiencing. His eyes widened with jealousy, yet his mind was snapped back into reality as Matthew finally turned back to Archer.

Or perhaps "finally" made it seem too much as if Archer longed for it.

He did not.

Archer had never been one with feelings. If asked to analyse a character's emotions in a novel, he could do so happily and offer up a full-length essay on such a topic. If required to annotate the speaker's sentiments in a poem, he could do so enthusiastically and fill up the margins with notations. Yet Archer often found himself at a loss, especially after being introduced to the chaotic community of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Human beings were not the fictional archetypes they were painted to be in his beloved books. Each one of them were unique combinations of different characters. For example, to Archer, Matthew seemed to be the Innocent, yet traits of the Hero were buried beneath the shallow layer. More churn within him, for Archer had only scratched the barest surface on this boy, so similar to him yet... so seemingly different. There was a reason he was aloof towards muggle-borns - or perhaps simply aloof in general - was out of caution. Muggle-borns were a new territory he had just dipped his toes into.

Archer's eyes crept to Matthew's, a cautious shadow falling over his usually gleaming orbs, analysing due to wariness instead of curiosity for once. He could not make out what swirled within Matthew's eyes, so similar to his own, a perfect mirror reflection of a dishevelled and, in some ways, desperate, boy. He smiled at Archer, a smile that seemed foreign set on his slim and sharply angled face. 'Sometimes the audience is just as important as the musician themselves, so we're happy to have you here,' he said, his eyes crinkling, his smile small, yet, at least to Archer's eyes, sincere. As if to then emphasise such, he mouthed, "genuinely". Archer understood that this time, Matthew Campbell meant no malice. Boiling down all other hateful emotions, both of them were simply children, brimming with an innocent and forgiving nature, and perhaps sometimes, just a touch too far of naïvety, still wet behind the ears. Archer nodded in response, though it was barely noticeable, for he was truly at a loss for words.

'Honoured,' he said finally and firmly, trying not to bite down on his lip despite the nervous flitting of his eyes that did not seem to cease. ‘However, as an audience member, may I wonder how the quality of music might improve with the addition of the full orchestra it deserves?’ Archer inquired politely. He simply wanted to break the tension that still hung like an unwelcome storm cloud between them, starting with barely noticeable thunder and lightning, gradually booming louder and flashing brighter, until it finally rained. And it seemed as if it would always end in rain.

@Matthew Campbell @Ophelia Northwell @Roman Bellegno

Note: hope this is enough to make Matthew mad, but I cannot envision Archer going any further than this so hopefully it is. Anyway, I have omitted Archer’s reply to Matthew’s next statement since im sure he would have something to say at this.

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speech • #427c9a thoughts • italics others • #ffffff

november 14th, 2023 • date rehearsal room • location their song • thread

Ophelia closed her eyes as Matthew began playing the piano. She heard the notes and, taking a deep breath, began singing. Her voice was soft at first, unsure and hesitant since she was in front of a crowd. But slowly, as she sang one of her favourite songs, the familiar lyrics took over her and she sang steadily louder.

Music was beautiful and full of emotion. Even jolly tunes had something in them that made the listener, in this case Rowan and Archer, feel something. That was Ophelia's mission as a singer. To make them feel that something, that emotion, as soon as the song started. She poured her heart, her soul, into each and every song that she sang, even if there was no audience.

Still, she was too afraid to open her eyes, to see the expressions on each of their faces. What if they found her singing terrible? What if, since she hadn't warmed up today except for the humming, her singing was terrible? What if she forgot some of the lyrics that she'd previously known so well? So many what-ifs, so many worries, so many concerns. So she didn't open her eyes. She kept them closed and she sang as if her life depended on making sure that this one song was done justice.

But it didn't stay that way for long. At some point, Matthew's beautiful playing stopped and Ophelia's eyes flew open in surprise. She stopped singing in the middle of a word, slamming her mouth shut. She might've agreed to sing, but she wouldn't do a solo.

As Matthew began responding to something Archer had said a while back, the young Ravenclaw began thinking about the boys' history once more. For Matthew, who seemed like a nice boy, to have been so angry at Archer, when his comment hadn't been too mean... it felt odd. But Ophelia wasn't good at confrontation, so she stayed quiet, her eyes flicking between the two boys, hoping that there wouldn't be a fight, that neither of them would get too angry at each other.

"I'm so sorry you sounded incredible, shall we continue?" Matthew asked eventually, turning back to her.

Eyes rounded, Ophelia looked at him blankly for a moment. In all his speaking, she'd thought that he'd forgotten that they had been in the middle of a sort of performance. "Eh..." She hesitated, though she knew what her answer should be. Yes. Let's continue. She was supposed to pretend as if nothing had just happened and keep singing. Her curiosity about what had just happened? That was for her to puzzle over by herself, not for her to voice out loud. Suppressing a sigh, Ophelia gave him a bright smile. "Of course we shall."

As she was saying it, however, Matthew gave Archer his final comment, one that was cold and devoid of any emotion except a cold sort of disposition. Ophelia held her breath, looking at Archer with wide eyes. What would he do?

But it seemed she didn't get to find out because Matthew began playing again and Ophelia, ever the obedient girl, ready to jump at everyone's beck and call, started singing again.

interactions • @Matthew Campbell mentions • @Rowan Bellegno @Archer Duncan stats • sta 6 | eva 5 | str 6 | wis 7 | arc 6 | acc 5

516 • word count xxx • outfit perfectionist • abilities

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"Damn you," a part of Archer wanted to say. To Matthew. To himself. To "fate", or whichever cruel mistress that destined their futures. To the world. Just when they had tediously tried to stitch their broken relationship back together, Archer had to say something just happened to cause Matthew's sensitivity. Just when they thought everything would take a turn for the better, Matthew had to overreact to a simple, off-hand statement, not even particularly directed at him. 'What exactly is that supposed to even mean, is our playing quality not good enough for you, maybe not quite refined enough for your rich tastes. Or is it just a personal issue again? No matter how good I am at something you'll never recognise it.' Three sentences delivered with barely controlled anger.

'My apologies for the offense, Mister Campbell,' Archer said stiffly, his words coming out forced as he turned to the his housemate. Truly, Archer did not understand what he had said wrong with an off-hand comment, which had simply been an attempt at engagement, contribution, and conversation. He had not not been criticising Matthew's ability, simply pointing out how a full orchestra would add to the already spectacular quality. However, with any other person, his apology would have been genuine nevertheless, for the offense they took, if nothing else. But not with Matthew Campbell. To Archer, that reserved courtesy was all he deserved. Since they had first met during that Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson roughly a month prior, Matthew had always wronged him and made assumptions regarding his speech and opinions. He had never underestimated him for being a muggle-born, simply stayed cautious of him because he was sailing in unfamiliar waters, with that interaction being the first time he had might a muggle-born and got confirmation that they existed. His nose had started to sour, and Archer could feel tears thretening to well up in the back of his eyes. What had he every done wrong to Matthew Campbell?

Archer exhaled deeply, trying to rid himself of the tears and nerves, and turned to the two girls, finally saying, 'Miss Northwell, Miss Rowan, I apologise if we ruined your evening with our disagreement,' with this Archer allowed a pointed glance at Matthew, though sudden anxiety enveloped him and his eyes quickly flitted away, blinking rapidly, before swallowing and quickly adding, 'On both our behalves.'

Yet for some reason, Archer stole another glance back towards Matthew, even though both his eyes and his heart stung. "No matter how good I am at something you'll never recognise it," Matthew had said, and the comment had replayed in Archer's mind ever since then. It was not phrased like an insult; well, on some degree yes, when considering he probably misinterpreted Archer's response as under-appreciation. But, what shone through to the Scottish-French Slytherin was his own self-doubt, desire to please, and even perhaps under-appreciation of himself. The level of hurt in his voice was beyond Archer's comprehension, his true emotions muffled up and distorted. Actual human emotions, not literary representations, had never been a game Archer was good at anyway, or particularly fond of for that matter, and it did not seem reasonable that he would start anytime soon. The young wizard opened his mouth, cast a sidelong glance towards his housemate, then promptly decided to close it, as he sensed a stinging rush to his eyes.

As Matthew apologised to Ophelia and asked for her to continue, all Archer did was turn his eyes away from the duo. When she responded per usual, as if nothing unpleasant had just happened in front of her very own eyes, Archer's eyes narrowed slightly in disappointment, although he hid it well. Internally, he voiced "Where was Miss. Northwell's human decency of interrupting obviously rude behaviour?" He almost felt like he was being attacked by Matthew Campbell, and everyone else would just stand to the side and wordlessly witness it. Anger vented up within Archer's chest and he subtly bit his lip, eyes flashing away from both of them, due to Ophelia's newfound indifference.

'Stay or leave Archer, it's not like anyone asked you to come.'

That cut through their final tie like a knife through butter. Stay or leave Archer, it's not like anyone asked you to come. The whole temperature in the room seemed the drop as phantom frost started to creep across the room, as if the whole Rehearsal Room threatened to freeze over. Archer himself, both physically and mentally, froze. Feeling a tear flow over, Archer did not give Matthew the satisfaction of wiping it away. 'In that case, Mister Campbell, Miss Northwell, Miss Rowan,' he began with a deep breath, his voice cracking as a sob threatened to build up. Swallowing it down, Archer continued, 'Apologies for the intrusion. Please excuse my company.' He turned on his heels hard, yet just when he was about to walk away, Archer felt himself linger as he cast one last look at Matthew, 'Company, which I believe you never truly welcomed, Matthew Campbell.'

Action: exits unless stopped

@Matthew Campbell, @Ophelia Northwell, @Rowan Bellegno