11 Dec 2024, 14:21
The Huntsman
Sunday December 1st, 2024, around noon.
The library doors banged shut behind them, but he didn’t care. There was no time to waste. He bolted down the corridor pell-mell, chased by the echoes of his trainers against the flagstones and the fainter noise of Avis' hurried footsteps following behind.
"Come on, Avis, keep up!" he called over his shoulder. When he rounded a corner he nearly collided with a suit of armor, but with a hop and a skip slipped past and ignored the indignant rattle behind him. He flicked a quick glance back, ensuring Avis hadn't fallen behind. Her pace was admireable for someone half a head shorter, quite a tenacious little thing.
They ran through the corridors, weaved past startled students, and got an thunderous earful from a the roused portrait of Bartholomew Prattle, a 17th century janitor in a frock coat waving a long brass cane at them. "HOLD RIGHT THERE SCOUNDRELS!" Dame Gertrude Piddock, was holding a tea-party in the neighbouring frame and let out a startled unlady-like noise when Prattle leapt over her table in pursuit. "IT IS AGAINST THE RULES!" Prattle roared, waving his cane about, knocking Piddock's hat clean off her head. When he could not keep up with Finnegan, he turned sharply to yell at Avis instead. "DISTURBING THE PEACE! ON A SUNDAY! I KNOW YOUR FACE, I KNOW YOUR PARENTS, I KNOW THE HEADMASTER PERSONALLY! YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN FLOGGED IN MY TIME! YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN-"
They would never find out what other threats Prattle had in mind for them, because Finnegan turned sharply into an adjoining corridor, muffling the portrait's heated voice to a low rumble. Finnegan barreled down the shortcut, skidded on his heels, then barreled down a narrow, winding staircase two steps at a time. "Come on Avis, come on!"
The air grew colder as they descended into the dungeons, the scent of mildew sharpened by the chill of early December. Finn's breath puffed out in quick, frosty bursts until they reached the dungeons proper. Please be here, please be here, he thought frantically as he came up to the Slytherin common room entrance.
It took no more than three seconds before an upperclassman in green-lined robes approached him, inquiring sternly what business they had there. Between sharp, uneven breaths, Finnegan did his best to explain that they were looking for Aamon, that they needed to see him urgently, that it couldn't wait. Whether it was heavy gesticulating or the panicked, frenetic look on his face, the older student eventually budged and went inside to check if Aamon was there.
Chest heaving, he pressed his hands to his knees and looked to Avis. "Aamon better be there... Think he'll actually check?" When he had first come to Hogwarts he hadn't taken house rivalries all that seriously, but in recent years the list of Slytherins he had laid out had been growing fast. As such, he tended to avoid hanging around the viper's nest if he could, but needs must.
When the Slytherin boy returned, he looked marginally less annoyed. "He’s not in there," he said. "Someone saw him heading out not long ago though. Went outside for a walk, I believe."
Finn’s stomach dropped. "Where to?"
"Couldn't tell you, but he only left a couple of minutes ago. Shouldn't be too far off."
Just their luck. They'd have to run all the way back up the stairs and out the door and hope, just hope that Aamon would be on the grounds somewhere. Should have gotten my broom, he thought to himself. "Alright, thanks! Come on Avis..."
Back up the stairs they went, across a hall and then bursting out into a courtyard, largely deserted as most students preferred to remain inside. The weak winter sunlight cast faint shadows over the cobblestones and the ivy growing on it had withered to leafless, bone-like roots.
Finn scanned to his left and missed the familiar shape to his right, lingering near an archway. If Avis had the nouse to look the other way, she would undoubtedly recognize Aamon, even from this distance.
@Avis Marlong — I am purposefully leaving it up to Avis to spot and call Aamon over, since I wanted to leave something for her to do beyond just following after Finn.
@Aamon Athanatos — Please wait for Avis to post before you do. Because you indicated Aamon would be heading out to Hogsmeade, I've taken the liberty of assuming he'd be outside. Let me know if something needs changing.
@Orion Lécuyer — Courtesy tag. No interaction yet.
@Emily Shephard — This might be a decent opportunity to jump in if it's possible for Emily to happen to in or near the courtyard at this time. If you have no idea what this thread is about, check your owls
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
11 Dec 2024, 21:36
The Huntsman
And he was off again. It took Avis a second to comprehend his quick movements before she bolted after him. He was like Wonka's glass elevator, pivoting in a new direction before she even had a chance to figure out the last one. She skidded around a corner a half-second after him, thankfully managing to avoid repeating his almost collision with the suit of armour. It was a wonder Finn wasn't in the infirmary every day, with this insane impulsiveness.
Her speed almost took her into a wall as she shied away from a screaming portrait, who apparently knew her parents. Right. Sure he did. Avis resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the portrait, but the escaping boy in front of her jerked her back into her run.
"Come on Avis, come on!" No really? Avis rolled her eyes. She wasn't planning on keeping up with him, but now that he mentioned it, it might be a good idea. She opened her mouth to shout that sarcastic remark, but a burst of speed from him kept her focus on running. Avis was not a runner. She wasn't even a walker if she could help it. The only thing allowing her to keep up-ish-with the third year was the impressive amount of adrenaline coursing through her system. She slowly fell further and further behind, until they came down the stairs. Finn was by no means slow down the stairs, but for the first eight years of Avis' life, she had lived in an apartment on the fifth floor, without an elevator. Avis could bolt down stairs. She managed to skid to a stop just a few moments after Finn, resting against the wall. She was unable to talk, so out of breath, and she let Finn deal with the older Slytherin, not bothering to answer the question directed at her.
As the Slytherin reported back no sign of Aamon, Avis groaned. Partly because it would have been awfully convenient if Aamon was there, and partly because--before she had even before she had finished the thought Finn was off, affirming her groan and helpfully telling Avis to join. She rolled her eyes, offered the Slytherin a small smile, and bolted after him. How was he already that far ahead???
Avis couldn't say a thing about the long run back to the courtyard, except the fact that she was running. And running. And running. She was really just running on adrenaline at this point. She pulled up next to a frustratingly less tired Finn, exhausted, but jerked up straight at the sight of Aamon. She looked over at Finn, before looking back at Aamon. Around the courtyard mingled other students, and Avis didn't want to make a scene or call attention to them. "Finn" She muttered, jerking her head pointedly towards Aamon.
She headed towards Aamon, assuming that Finn would most likely follow her, or maybe zip ahead. Either way, she would quietly call Aamon's name once they were close enough, and so long as he stood still, words would tumble out, an attempt to explain. "This is Finn. Just Finn." She cast a sideways glance toward Finn. "He apparently doesn't have a house or year." Whether or not Finn remembered his curt introduction was not relevant to Avis, it was a small jab either way. "But I assume he's older than us." She had thought that, but considering Aamon was taller than Finn, she wasn't so sure anymore. It wasn't really important now anyway. "He believes you, and he says that Professor Lécuyer will too." Almost as an afterthought she remembered, "Are you doing alright?"
@Aamon Athanatos
@Emily Shephard
@Orion Lécuyer
@Finnegan Connor
Her speed almost took her into a wall as she shied away from a screaming portrait, who apparently knew her parents. Right. Sure he did. Avis resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the portrait, but the escaping boy in front of her jerked her back into her run.
"Come on Avis, come on!" No really? Avis rolled her eyes. She wasn't planning on keeping up with him, but now that he mentioned it, it might be a good idea. She opened her mouth to shout that sarcastic remark, but a burst of speed from him kept her focus on running. Avis was not a runner. She wasn't even a walker if she could help it. The only thing allowing her to keep up-ish-with the third year was the impressive amount of adrenaline coursing through her system. She slowly fell further and further behind, until they came down the stairs. Finn was by no means slow down the stairs, but for the first eight years of Avis' life, she had lived in an apartment on the fifth floor, without an elevator. Avis could bolt down stairs. She managed to skid to a stop just a few moments after Finn, resting against the wall. She was unable to talk, so out of breath, and she let Finn deal with the older Slytherin, not bothering to answer the question directed at her.
As the Slytherin reported back no sign of Aamon, Avis groaned. Partly because it would have been awfully convenient if Aamon was there, and partly because--before she had even before she had finished the thought Finn was off, affirming her groan and helpfully telling Avis to join. She rolled her eyes, offered the Slytherin a small smile, and bolted after him. How was he already that far ahead???
Avis couldn't say a thing about the long run back to the courtyard, except the fact that she was running. And running. And running. She was really just running on adrenaline at this point. She pulled up next to a frustratingly less tired Finn, exhausted, but jerked up straight at the sight of Aamon. She looked over at Finn, before looking back at Aamon. Around the courtyard mingled other students, and Avis didn't want to make a scene or call attention to them. "Finn" She muttered, jerking her head pointedly towards Aamon.
She headed towards Aamon, assuming that Finn would most likely follow her, or maybe zip ahead. Either way, she would quietly call Aamon's name once they were close enough, and so long as he stood still, words would tumble out, an attempt to explain. "This is Finn. Just Finn." She cast a sideways glance toward Finn. "He apparently doesn't have a house or year." Whether or not Finn remembered his curt introduction was not relevant to Avis, it was a small jab either way. "But I assume he's older than us." She had thought that, but considering Aamon was taller than Finn, she wasn't so sure anymore. It wasn't really important now anyway. "He believes you, and he says that Professor Lécuyer will too." Almost as an afterthought she remembered, "Are you doing alright?"
@Aamon Athanatos
@Emily Shephard
@Orion Lécuyer
@Finnegan Connor
Avis Marlong | ”She won't cry or beg for help...she'll isolate from the world and fight her own demons so that nobody can throw it in her face later.” |
"The odds of hitting your target increase dramatically when you aim at it." Benji Marecos |
11 Dec 2024, 23:23
The Huntsman
Aamon lingered near the archway, his body half-hidden in the shadows as his eyes scanned the courtyard with the wariness of a hunted animal. The weak winter sunlight did little to warm him; the cold seemed to seep straight into his bones. He tugged his cloak tighter around himself, his hand brushing the wand tucked into his sleeve.
He didn’t want to meet Vladimir. Not really. In fact, while he was closest to Vladimir of all of his brothers, since his death, he developed a wariness of his. He felt this way occasionally in Hogwarts proper where Vladimir most assuredly could not be, This dire sense of trepidation. This moment of dread that he was not capable of articulating that gripped his heart. His brother had been nothing but gentle, kind, if not a bit overprotective. But his brother would worry, be angry, if he did not attend their scheduled rendezvous. Besides, there were questions only his older brother could answer—questions about why people said the things that they said, why he used to say the things he said, about the things in the forest, about why their family seemed cursed to walk in shadow. Vladimir might not tell him the truth, but Aamon needed something, anything, to make sense of what was happening.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke through his thoughts. His pulse quickened as his gaze darted toward the source. Two figures emerged into the courtyard, moving with purpose. One of them was unmistakable—Avis. He recognized her immediately, her small stature, shock of blue hair and determined expression impossible to forget.
The other… Just Finn, she had called him, he vaguely recognized from the hospital wing. A stranger to Aamon, but one whose presence now made his stomach twist with unease and he was not entirely certain why. Perhaps it was a pavlovian response, their meeting was rather traumatic for Aamon, he had lost his hand and was bleeding out in the infirmary. Of course he did not feel the same way about Avis, she made him nervous but in a good way. He did not really understand the sentiment, but he recognized most assuredly the difference.
They were coming toward him.
Aamon stiffened, his body instinctively pressing closer to the cold stone behind him. He debated slipping away—there was still time to disappear before they noticed him. But Avis’s sharp eyes caught his, and her lips moved to form his name.
He froze.
The pair closed the distance quickly, and when they were near enough, Avis began to speak.
“This is Finn. Just Finn,” she said, her tone casual, though Aamon caught the pointed glance she shot at her companion.
Aamon’s eyes flicked to Finn, taking in the boy’s disheveled appearance and quick, assessing gaze. There was something about him that set Aamon on edge, though he couldn’t quite say why. His grip on his wand tightened beneath his cloak. Not that he knew how to use it, not really. He had been to all the same classes as Avis but he still had not even mastered lighting his wand.
“He believes you,” Avis continued, her voice quieter now. “And he says that Professor Lécuyer will too.”
At that, Aamon’s stomach twisted again, this time with something sharper than unease. Believes me? That meant they wanted to talk about them. About the dolls. About the forest. About everything he had been trying to avoid thinking about since that horrible night. But more than that, it was Professor Lécuyer, a name he did know and not just from class. He knew the good Professor for his previous vocation, one as a hit wizard for hire. One where he got blood on his hands at his father's behest. "P-professor Lécuyer?" He stammered, attempting to at the very least verify before he panicked.
Avis’s next words, spoken almost as an afterthought, brought him back to the present. “Are you doing alright?”
Aamon let out a shaky breath, his eyes darting between Avis and Finn. “No,” he said honestly, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down, disheartened seemingly by his admission. “Not really.”
His heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t trust this—didn’t trust them. Not if they were talking to him. Avis meant well, he knew that much. But Finn? Finn was a wild card, someone he couldn’t read, and that made him dangerous.
“What do you want?” Aamon asked, his tone sharper now, his fear bleeding into frustration. “Why are you even here? What’s so important that you had to come find me?”
He took a step back, his body angled slightly as if preparing to flee. “If you’re just here to talk about… about them—” his voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on—“I’ve already told you everything I know. And I’m not going to some professor." Well, not that professor but he tried to distance himself so they did not ask too many questions. "They wouldn’t believe me even if I did...”
His gaze flicked to Finn again, his grip tightening on his wand. “So, whatever you think you’re doing, just… leave me out of it. I don’t want any part of it.”
What was he going to even do with the useless stick? A thought in the back of his head prodded. Not like he could cast a darn thing. Stab? That was a weird thought. A weird impulse. He did not like it.
For a moment, he thought about bolting, about running before they could press him further. But Avis’s presence, her steady determination, gave him pause. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of guilt at the thought of abandoning her. Still, he stayed tense, his body coiled like a spring, ready to escape if Finn made a wrong move.
He didn’t want to meet Vladimir. Not really. In fact, while he was closest to Vladimir of all of his brothers, since his death, he developed a wariness of his. He felt this way occasionally in Hogwarts proper where Vladimir most assuredly could not be, This dire sense of trepidation. This moment of dread that he was not capable of articulating that gripped his heart. His brother had been nothing but gentle, kind, if not a bit overprotective. But his brother would worry, be angry, if he did not attend their scheduled rendezvous. Besides, there were questions only his older brother could answer—questions about why people said the things that they said, why he used to say the things he said, about the things in the forest, about why their family seemed cursed to walk in shadow. Vladimir might not tell him the truth, but Aamon needed something, anything, to make sense of what was happening.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke through his thoughts. His pulse quickened as his gaze darted toward the source. Two figures emerged into the courtyard, moving with purpose. One of them was unmistakable—Avis. He recognized her immediately, her small stature, shock of blue hair and determined expression impossible to forget.
The other… Just Finn, she had called him, he vaguely recognized from the hospital wing. A stranger to Aamon, but one whose presence now made his stomach twist with unease and he was not entirely certain why. Perhaps it was a pavlovian response, their meeting was rather traumatic for Aamon, he had lost his hand and was bleeding out in the infirmary. Of course he did not feel the same way about Avis, she made him nervous but in a good way. He did not really understand the sentiment, but he recognized most assuredly the difference.
They were coming toward him.
Aamon stiffened, his body instinctively pressing closer to the cold stone behind him. He debated slipping away—there was still time to disappear before they noticed him. But Avis’s sharp eyes caught his, and her lips moved to form his name.
He froze.
The pair closed the distance quickly, and when they were near enough, Avis began to speak.
“This is Finn. Just Finn,” she said, her tone casual, though Aamon caught the pointed glance she shot at her companion.
Aamon’s eyes flicked to Finn, taking in the boy’s disheveled appearance and quick, assessing gaze. There was something about him that set Aamon on edge, though he couldn’t quite say why. His grip on his wand tightened beneath his cloak. Not that he knew how to use it, not really. He had been to all the same classes as Avis but he still had not even mastered lighting his wand.
“He believes you,” Avis continued, her voice quieter now. “And he says that Professor Lécuyer will too.”
At that, Aamon’s stomach twisted again, this time with something sharper than unease. Believes me? That meant they wanted to talk about them. About the dolls. About the forest. About everything he had been trying to avoid thinking about since that horrible night. But more than that, it was Professor Lécuyer, a name he did know and not just from class. He knew the good Professor for his previous vocation, one as a hit wizard for hire. One where he got blood on his hands at his father's behest. "P-professor Lécuyer?" He stammered, attempting to at the very least verify before he panicked.
Avis’s next words, spoken almost as an afterthought, brought him back to the present. “Are you doing alright?”
Aamon let out a shaky breath, his eyes darting between Avis and Finn. “No,” he said honestly, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down, disheartened seemingly by his admission. “Not really.”
His heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t trust this—didn’t trust them. Not if they were talking to him. Avis meant well, he knew that much. But Finn? Finn was a wild card, someone he couldn’t read, and that made him dangerous.
“What do you want?” Aamon asked, his tone sharper now, his fear bleeding into frustration. “Why are you even here? What’s so important that you had to come find me?”
He took a step back, his body angled slightly as if preparing to flee. “If you’re just here to talk about… about them—” his voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on—“I’ve already told you everything I know. And I’m not going to some professor." Well, not that professor but he tried to distance himself so they did not ask too many questions. "They wouldn’t believe me even if I did...”
His gaze flicked to Finn again, his grip tightening on his wand. “So, whatever you think you’re doing, just… leave me out of it. I don’t want any part of it.”
What was he going to even do with the useless stick? A thought in the back of his head prodded. Not like he could cast a darn thing. Stab? That was a weird thought. A weird impulse. He did not like it.
For a moment, he thought about bolting, about running before they could press him further. But Avis’s presence, her steady determination, gave him pause. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of guilt at the thought of abandoning her. Still, he stayed tense, his body coiled like a spring, ready to escape if Finn made a wrong move.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
12 Dec 2024, 01:22
The Huntsman
"Finn."
He turned sharply and followed her gaze to the tall, familiar first-year standing near an archway. Their roles reversed and he trailed after Avis, but slowed his pace when he noticed Aamon freezing up like a scared and cornered animal. Ugh, this was not going to be easy and if things went south, he might have to run again.
"This is Finn. Just Finn."
"Hiya." Again, no handshake, not because he couldn't be bothered, but because he'd been around Aamon twice now. Not enough to be an acquaintance, but often enough not be a stranger anymore. "It's Gryffindor, third year."
"He believes you, and he says that Professor Lécuyer will too."
Finnegan gave an encouraging nod, attempting to lend credit to Avis's statement. She was doing well; best not tell the skittish boy that he had no idea if Professor Lécuyer would believe him, it was quite the tale. The boy's stammering however, was not a good sign.
"What do you want?"
Answers, he thought immediately, but he swallowed the truthful answer and replaced it with a veiled one. "We're here to help you. You're in great danger, shit, you probably know that better than anyone else."
The boy's defenses shot up, his voice, his posture, everything tensed up and he looked closer to fleeing than he did to cooperating even though it was his life that was on the line. Finnegan looked past Aamon, out into the grounds. Cold had hardened the ground, but it was not flat and Aamon had been endowed with long legs. A little ways down the hill, that's where he would catch up with Aamon, tackle him to the ground if it came to a running chase. Plan B? A well-aimed full body-bind cursed, square between his shoulder blades, Aamon would probably end up with a nosebleed from hitting the ground with his face, and then there'd be the pain of dragging a Aamon-shaped ironing board halfway through the castle. The third route was to close the distance, grab the boy by the arm and start walking him to where he needed to be, like some kind of prisoner, but that too was unlikely to end well.
The cogs in his head whirred and whirred, but each scenario ended in tears, hurt and attracting a crowd. None of that would solve the problem at hand. Who is to say those dolls aren't here right now? Who was to say they wouldn't come skittering around the bend? Far as he understood it, he would not be able to see them, not without light. Instinctively, he looked about him, half-expecting some oversized garden gnome with Aamon's face to pop into existnce.
As much as he wanted to get a move on, point a wand at Aamon and tell him "You're coming with us, cupcake.", he knew it would backfire. Still, trying to talk Aamon into cooperating wasn't likely to work either. The boy had his mind made up, but the chink in his armor was the fear on his face. That was the key, wasn't it? Fear could be a great motivator.
"So, whatever you think you’re doing, just… leave me out of it. I don’t want any part of it."
"You're already part of it, whether you want to or not. You're in a lot of trouble." That was the stern bit, the bad cop. While his eyes pinned Aamon down, he did not step forward, did not attempt to intimidate beyond speaking very directly. Then his expression softened and he made a point of raising and showing his hands. He had no wand at the ready, he meant no harm. "We're just trying to get you out of it. Avis told me what happened and I know she's telling the truth." Don't think about me, think about her. You know her, you trust her. I'm with her, you can trust me too. He could have told the cold, hard truth: that Aamon was in mortal danger, that he needed urgent help, that this was beyond any of them. But the boy was so frightened already, so tensed up, that the slightest push might set him off. Better to speak to him in unthreatening language and veil the danger for now.
"Words are cheap, we both know that, so I won't ask you to trust me, Aamon. I'll show you." He raised his hands further, like a fugitive surrendering to law enformcement, but he never let his eyes drift away from Aamon. The boy could still choose to run, this all could still go south very quick. "Avis, could you take my wand from my right pocket please and give it to Aamon?"
@Aamon Athanatos @Orion Lécuyer @Avis Marlong
He turned sharply and followed her gaze to the tall, familiar first-year standing near an archway. Their roles reversed and he trailed after Avis, but slowed his pace when he noticed Aamon freezing up like a scared and cornered animal. Ugh, this was not going to be easy and if things went south, he might have to run again.
"This is Finn. Just Finn."
"Hiya." Again, no handshake, not because he couldn't be bothered, but because he'd been around Aamon twice now. Not enough to be an acquaintance, but often enough not be a stranger anymore. "It's Gryffindor, third year."
"He believes you, and he says that Professor Lécuyer will too."
Finnegan gave an encouraging nod, attempting to lend credit to Avis's statement. She was doing well; best not tell the skittish boy that he had no idea if Professor Lécuyer would believe him, it was quite the tale. The boy's stammering however, was not a good sign.
"What do you want?"
Answers, he thought immediately, but he swallowed the truthful answer and replaced it with a veiled one. "We're here to help you. You're in great danger, shit, you probably know that better than anyone else."
The boy's defenses shot up, his voice, his posture, everything tensed up and he looked closer to fleeing than he did to cooperating even though it was his life that was on the line. Finnegan looked past Aamon, out into the grounds. Cold had hardened the ground, but it was not flat and Aamon had been endowed with long legs. A little ways down the hill, that's where he would catch up with Aamon, tackle him to the ground if it came to a running chase. Plan B? A well-aimed full body-bind cursed, square between his shoulder blades, Aamon would probably end up with a nosebleed from hitting the ground with his face, and then there'd be the pain of dragging a Aamon-shaped ironing board halfway through the castle. The third route was to close the distance, grab the boy by the arm and start walking him to where he needed to be, like some kind of prisoner, but that too was unlikely to end well.
The cogs in his head whirred and whirred, but each scenario ended in tears, hurt and attracting a crowd. None of that would solve the problem at hand. Who is to say those dolls aren't here right now? Who was to say they wouldn't come skittering around the bend? Far as he understood it, he would not be able to see them, not without light. Instinctively, he looked about him, half-expecting some oversized garden gnome with Aamon's face to pop into existnce.
As much as he wanted to get a move on, point a wand at Aamon and tell him "You're coming with us, cupcake.", he knew it would backfire. Still, trying to talk Aamon into cooperating wasn't likely to work either. The boy had his mind made up, but the chink in his armor was the fear on his face. That was the key, wasn't it? Fear could be a great motivator.
"So, whatever you think you’re doing, just… leave me out of it. I don’t want any part of it."
"You're already part of it, whether you want to or not. You're in a lot of trouble." That was the stern bit, the bad cop. While his eyes pinned Aamon down, he did not step forward, did not attempt to intimidate beyond speaking very directly. Then his expression softened and he made a point of raising and showing his hands. He had no wand at the ready, he meant no harm. "We're just trying to get you out of it. Avis told me what happened and I know she's telling the truth." Don't think about me, think about her. You know her, you trust her. I'm with her, you can trust me too. He could have told the cold, hard truth: that Aamon was in mortal danger, that he needed urgent help, that this was beyond any of them. But the boy was so frightened already, so tensed up, that the slightest push might set him off. Better to speak to him in unthreatening language and veil the danger for now.
"Words are cheap, we both know that, so I won't ask you to trust me, Aamon. I'll show you." He raised his hands further, like a fugitive surrendering to law enformcement, but he never let his eyes drift away from Aamon. The boy could still choose to run, this all could still go south very quick. "Avis, could you take my wand from my right pocket please and give it to Aamon?"
@Aamon Athanatos @Orion Lécuyer @Avis Marlong
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
12 Dec 2024, 03:10
The Huntsman
“What do you want?” Avis sighed. "The exact same thing I wanted the other night. To find a solution. Finn wants... Avis hesitated. She didn't truly know what Finn wanted, he had avoided the question back in the library. She let the sentence lie heavy in the air, for Finn to finish. "We're here to help you." Well that was vague. It also didn't really explain why he had been researching the Athanatos family in the library. Avis made a mental note to figure that out later.
"You probably know that better than anyone else." Avis wasn't sure that was true. There was a point where one's life could be so bad that they didn't even realize it. Aamon knew the danger he was in, she was sure of that, but she wasn't sure if it had ever really sank in, or if it was just floating on the surface, a result of Aamon's coping mechanisms.
"They wouldn’t believe me even if I did...” Finn had believed, hadn't he? "Aamon," she pleaded, louder than she meant to. "The first person I told believed me. Everyone that's known about it has believed you. She declined to mention that Finn had been researching his family before talking to Avis. It didn't seem like a useful thing to point out at the moment, tense as Aamon already was. The kid was a rubber band, ready to fly at any given moment. Avis did not want that, she couldn't handle another run.
Yet she shifted, turning just slightly for a better start if he were to run, and her hand remained ready to grab for her wand. It was strange, how that had become an instinct. There wasn't even anything useful to do with her wand, she certainly couldn't knock down Aamon with a Lumos. Nor was she planning to do anything. If Aamon were to run, she would simply try to keep up, try to calm him down. Definitely try to keep him away from the forest.
She couldn't knock down Aamon at all, she realized, being the head shorter that she was. Avis frowned. Maybe that was why Aamon was willing to talk to her at all, because when it came down to it, Avis was pretty powerless to do anything.
Unlike the third year she had just brought to Aamon. Oh. Maybe that was the cause of Aamon's hostility. She kept the Gryffindor in her line of sight. If Aamon were to bolt and Finn was to chase him, Aamon wouldn't trust anyone ever again, and he certainly woudn't trust her. It hurt Avis to admit it, but if Aamon were to run, she would keep Finn back. Or try to, at least. No matter how little luck she would have with Aamon, she would probably have even less with Finn. She stood next to Finn, facing Aamon, but her stance was shifted slightly towards Finn, prepared.
"So, whatever you think you’re doing, just… leave me out of it. I don’t want any part of it." Avis barely held back her snarky response. Yes, it would be totally logical for her and Finn to try to get rid of Aamon's predicament without Aamon. She instead spoke softly "Aamon, you can't afford to stay out of this, you know that." Her eyes flicked between the two boys, begging Aamon to stay, and Finn to not do something irrational. The whole situation was getting very tense, and Avis was not comfortable in the position of mediator.
Thankfully, Finn seemed to grasp the fragility of the situation, and had clearly seen a cop show or two in his lifetime. The kid raised his hands in surrender, telling Avis to grab his wand. She froze for a moment. She didn't want him to use his wand, but she wasn't sure if she wanted him defenseless. After all, if the dolls came back, who knew if she would be able to cast another Lumos? Wouldn't it be best to have a more experienced wizard with a wand? Unfortunately, with Finn's eyes still locked on Aamon, and his sprint from the library a sign of his impulsiveness, Avis supposed it was for the best. So she pulled out his wand, but held it stiffly in her hand. It felt wrong to be holding someone else's wand. Finn, apparently, is a caveman.
"Can I keep it?" She asked Aamon quietly. She agreed it might not be best for Finn to have his wand, but in the case of, well, dolls, she didn't quite trust that Aamon would give it back, and she wanted at least a bit of security that she could get it back into the third year's hands quickly.
@Finnegan Connor, @Aamon Athanatos
"You probably know that better than anyone else." Avis wasn't sure that was true. There was a point where one's life could be so bad that they didn't even realize it. Aamon knew the danger he was in, she was sure of that, but she wasn't sure if it had ever really sank in, or if it was just floating on the surface, a result of Aamon's coping mechanisms.
"They wouldn’t believe me even if I did...” Finn had believed, hadn't he? "Aamon," she pleaded, louder than she meant to. "The first person I told believed me. Everyone that's known about it has believed you. She declined to mention that Finn had been researching his family before talking to Avis. It didn't seem like a useful thing to point out at the moment, tense as Aamon already was. The kid was a rubber band, ready to fly at any given moment. Avis did not want that, she couldn't handle another run.
Yet she shifted, turning just slightly for a better start if he were to run, and her hand remained ready to grab for her wand. It was strange, how that had become an instinct. There wasn't even anything useful to do with her wand, she certainly couldn't knock down Aamon with a Lumos. Nor was she planning to do anything. If Aamon were to run, she would simply try to keep up, try to calm him down. Definitely try to keep him away from the forest.
She couldn't knock down Aamon at all, she realized, being the head shorter that she was. Avis frowned. Maybe that was why Aamon was willing to talk to her at all, because when it came down to it, Avis was pretty powerless to do anything.
Unlike the third year she had just brought to Aamon. Oh. Maybe that was the cause of Aamon's hostility. She kept the Gryffindor in her line of sight. If Aamon were to bolt and Finn was to chase him, Aamon wouldn't trust anyone ever again, and he certainly woudn't trust her. It hurt Avis to admit it, but if Aamon were to run, she would keep Finn back. Or try to, at least. No matter how little luck she would have with Aamon, she would probably have even less with Finn. She stood next to Finn, facing Aamon, but her stance was shifted slightly towards Finn, prepared.
"So, whatever you think you’re doing, just… leave me out of it. I don’t want any part of it." Avis barely held back her snarky response. Yes, it would be totally logical for her and Finn to try to get rid of Aamon's predicament without Aamon. She instead spoke softly "Aamon, you can't afford to stay out of this, you know that." Her eyes flicked between the two boys, begging Aamon to stay, and Finn to not do something irrational. The whole situation was getting very tense, and Avis was not comfortable in the position of mediator.
Thankfully, Finn seemed to grasp the fragility of the situation, and had clearly seen a cop show or two in his lifetime. The kid raised his hands in surrender, telling Avis to grab his wand. She froze for a moment. She didn't want him to use his wand, but she wasn't sure if she wanted him defenseless. After all, if the dolls came back, who knew if she would be able to cast another Lumos? Wouldn't it be best to have a more experienced wizard with a wand? Unfortunately, with Finn's eyes still locked on Aamon, and his sprint from the library a sign of his impulsiveness, Avis supposed it was for the best. So she pulled out his wand, but held it stiffly in her hand. It felt wrong to be holding someone else's wand. Finn, apparently, is a caveman.
"Can I keep it?" She asked Aamon quietly. She agreed it might not be best for Finn to have his wand, but in the case of, well, dolls, she didn't quite trust that Aamon would give it back, and she wanted at least a bit of security that she could get it back into the third year's hands quickly.
@Finnegan Connor, @Aamon Athanatos
Last edited by Avis Marlong on 13 Dec 2024, 03:26, edited 1 time in total.
Avis Marlong | ”She won't cry or beg for help...she'll isolate from the world and fight her own demons so that nobody can throw it in her face later.” |
"The odds of hitting your target increase dramatically when you aim at it." Benji Marecos |
12 Dec 2024, 22:25
The Huntsman
Aamon stood rigidly in the cold courtyard, his breath clouding the air in short, uneven puffs. His fingers twitched toward his own wand beneath the pre-teen's robes as Finn and Avis spoke, their words forming a tangled web of intentions and reassurances. The young Athanatos wanted to believe them—needed to believe them—but years of mistrust, his family’s reputation, and the brutal truths of the past weighed heavily on him. He had been warned by his brothers, all of them in fact, that he would be perceived as the enemy, treated as one and that sometimes it was easier to become what was expected. He thought then that they were being dramatic.
"Aamon, you can't afford to stay out of this, you know that."
Avis tried to reason, refusing to be brushed off. The misfits had to knock her down a flight of stairs the last time she was truly insistent. His heart hastened at that memory. He looked around, half-expecting to see something out of the corner of his eye. He saw nothing there, he rarely did. Often it was more a shadow, a flicker of something on the edge of his vision. He usually only saw them, truly saw them, when they were resting on the edge of his bed, on his bedside table. Maddening, they looked eerie, but normal.
"You're already part of it, whether you want to or not. You're in a lot of trouble... We're just trying to get you out of it. Avis told me what happened and I know she's telling the truth."
The Slytherin glanced toward Finn, his eyes narrowing at the older boy’s attempt to soothe him. You’re already part of it. Those words felt like chains, heavy and inescapable. Aamon had tried to stay out of trouble, to keep his head down despite everything his family’s name dragged behind it. And yet, here Aamon was—cornered and exposed, the past weeks etched into every tense muscle and flicker of fear on his face. He was tangled in this, whatever it was.
This strange gift he wished he could return. It was shortly before he left the family estate, he had received a package from a well-wisher. A few dolls to keep him company. At first, the dolls seemed like a silly distraction. Then he learned that they moved, that they were alive and aware. He believed at first that they were a protective element and for a time he was not wrong. But the dolls slowly became more distinctive, at first they were not necessarily taking on his features, just seemingly more human. He would come to believe them jealous, pushing away those that got close to him. Overprotective, he reasoned. He would in short order discover how wrong he was and begin to fear them but find that he could not be rid of them.
"Words are cheap, we both know that, so I won't ask you to trust me, Aamon. I'll show you... Avis, could you take my wand from my right pocket please and give it to Aamon?"
Aamon swallowed hard when Finn told Avis to take his wand, his mind racing. What’s the angle here? It felt too calculated, too much like something one of his brothers might do to win someone’s trust. He tried to gauge Finn’s sincerity, his eyes flicking between him and Avis, but fear muddled the snake's thoughts. Finn was not his brother, he was normal, not devious, he tried to self-soothe. Yet alarm bells were going off in his head.
When Avis asked softly, “Can I keep it?” Aamon hesitated. His grip on his wand tightened, the sense of danger tightening his chest. He was useless with his wand, but it made him feel better, safer somehow. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Finn, he looked normal enough. A bit small for a third year, but he did not say as much. Some would take insult to their diminutive height being pointed out, well anyone besides Gideon. Truthfully, Aamon wasn’t sure if he trusted anyone and he felt guilt for taking it out on strangers, good samaritans. He also had no reason to distrust or even dislike Avis, even if she was pushy and stubborn. She had only tried to help, maybe ask a few too many questions for comfort.
He exhaled shakily and gave a small nod. “Yeah,” he muttered hesitantly, his voice low and uneven. “You keep it," he reinforced feeling guiltier still as he said it. "I-I'm sorry," he admitted shaking his head "it is just that everyone seems to have an angle." He was being suspicious of people for no reason. There was no angles here, just one of Avis' friends. He could trust Avis, right? Probably. No, be could trust her, he internally argued.
Aamon shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the archway where he’d planned to slip away unnoticed. He was too young to go to Hogsmeade, so he was already planning on creeping away before he was identified. He clenched his jaw, weighing his options. If he ran now, would Finn chase him? Would Avis? The Ravenclaw had short legs, he could outpace her, he reasoned. As for the third year, even disarmed, he could not be certain that Finn was not a track star. He didn’t want to find out, but the idea of following them—of facing Professor Lécuyer—felt just as impossible.
They are fine, he tried to assure himself. This has nothing to do with your name, your family, some weird house rivalry, or some prank. It felt hollow, especially considering who they were bringing him to. Even if he could place his faith in them, a difficult thing to do, he did not feel the same way about the Charms Professor.
“I need to message my brother,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper as if he was listening in and about to rebuke him for failing to attend their scheduled engagement. “If I don't… he'll worry.” That was one way of putting it. He struggled to read his older brother, he hoped that sentiment was 'worry' because he often felt 'dangerous.'
"He is not going to like who we're meeting," he admitted. The Charms Professor who had a past. "He's a hit wizard," he admitted, a tone of worry in his voice. He did not use the past tense, it is not like someone was a former murderer for hire and now they were what? Rehabilitated? No, a killer is a killer. "Hit wizards don’t just deal with danger; they end it. Permanently.”
His hand gripped his wand tighter as he continued, his voice rising slightly. “How can I be sure that he won’t see me as a problem to get rid of.”
"Aamon, you can't afford to stay out of this, you know that."
Avis tried to reason, refusing to be brushed off. The misfits had to knock her down a flight of stairs the last time she was truly insistent. His heart hastened at that memory. He looked around, half-expecting to see something out of the corner of his eye. He saw nothing there, he rarely did. Often it was more a shadow, a flicker of something on the edge of his vision. He usually only saw them, truly saw them, when they were resting on the edge of his bed, on his bedside table. Maddening, they looked eerie, but normal.
"You're already part of it, whether you want to or not. You're in a lot of trouble... We're just trying to get you out of it. Avis told me what happened and I know she's telling the truth."
The Slytherin glanced toward Finn, his eyes narrowing at the older boy’s attempt to soothe him. You’re already part of it. Those words felt like chains, heavy and inescapable. Aamon had tried to stay out of trouble, to keep his head down despite everything his family’s name dragged behind it. And yet, here Aamon was—cornered and exposed, the past weeks etched into every tense muscle and flicker of fear on his face. He was tangled in this, whatever it was.
This strange gift he wished he could return. It was shortly before he left the family estate, he had received a package from a well-wisher. A few dolls to keep him company. At first, the dolls seemed like a silly distraction. Then he learned that they moved, that they were alive and aware. He believed at first that they were a protective element and for a time he was not wrong. But the dolls slowly became more distinctive, at first they were not necessarily taking on his features, just seemingly more human. He would come to believe them jealous, pushing away those that got close to him. Overprotective, he reasoned. He would in short order discover how wrong he was and begin to fear them but find that he could not be rid of them.
"Words are cheap, we both know that, so I won't ask you to trust me, Aamon. I'll show you... Avis, could you take my wand from my right pocket please and give it to Aamon?"
Aamon swallowed hard when Finn told Avis to take his wand, his mind racing. What’s the angle here? It felt too calculated, too much like something one of his brothers might do to win someone’s trust. He tried to gauge Finn’s sincerity, his eyes flicking between him and Avis, but fear muddled the snake's thoughts. Finn was not his brother, he was normal, not devious, he tried to self-soothe. Yet alarm bells were going off in his head.
When Avis asked softly, “Can I keep it?” Aamon hesitated. His grip on his wand tightened, the sense of danger tightening his chest. He was useless with his wand, but it made him feel better, safer somehow. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Finn, he looked normal enough. A bit small for a third year, but he did not say as much. Some would take insult to their diminutive height being pointed out, well anyone besides Gideon. Truthfully, Aamon wasn’t sure if he trusted anyone and he felt guilt for taking it out on strangers, good samaritans. He also had no reason to distrust or even dislike Avis, even if she was pushy and stubborn. She had only tried to help, maybe ask a few too many questions for comfort.
He exhaled shakily and gave a small nod. “Yeah,” he muttered hesitantly, his voice low and uneven. “You keep it," he reinforced feeling guiltier still as he said it. "I-I'm sorry," he admitted shaking his head "it is just that everyone seems to have an angle." He was being suspicious of people for no reason. There was no angles here, just one of Avis' friends. He could trust Avis, right? Probably. No, be could trust her, he internally argued.
Aamon shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the archway where he’d planned to slip away unnoticed. He was too young to go to Hogsmeade, so he was already planning on creeping away before he was identified. He clenched his jaw, weighing his options. If he ran now, would Finn chase him? Would Avis? The Ravenclaw had short legs, he could outpace her, he reasoned. As for the third year, even disarmed, he could not be certain that Finn was not a track star. He didn’t want to find out, but the idea of following them—of facing Professor Lécuyer—felt just as impossible.
They are fine, he tried to assure himself. This has nothing to do with your name, your family, some weird house rivalry, or some prank. It felt hollow, especially considering who they were bringing him to. Even if he could place his faith in them, a difficult thing to do, he did not feel the same way about the Charms Professor.
“I need to message my brother,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper as if he was listening in and about to rebuke him for failing to attend their scheduled engagement. “If I don't… he'll worry.” That was one way of putting it. He struggled to read his older brother, he hoped that sentiment was 'worry' because he often felt 'dangerous.'
"He is not going to like who we're meeting," he admitted. The Charms Professor who had a past. "He's a hit wizard," he admitted, a tone of worry in his voice. He did not use the past tense, it is not like someone was a former murderer for hire and now they were what? Rehabilitated? No, a killer is a killer. "Hit wizards don’t just deal with danger; they end it. Permanently.”
His hand gripped his wand tighter as he continued, his voice rising slightly. “How can I be sure that he won’t see me as a problem to get rid of.”
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
13 Dec 2024, 01:31
The Huntsman
December 1st 2024
Speech: #cfa120
Thoughts: Italics
Secretly Spying on @Finnegan Connor - @Avis Marlong and @Aamon Athanatos
Mentioning: @Evelynn Decipio and @Colin McCoire
Thankfully the days after the initial doll scare were kind enough to let Emily recollect her thoughts and recover. The night's events would be something to remember for a while but unlike back in the moment, Emily felt braver and more focused to handle the situation. Distractions throughout the day that followed played a part in that, as did writing it all out to Casey once she was in a better mindset to get it down on paper to empty her thoughts.
The only thing she had to decide now was what to do next from here. She couldn't stick around and do nothing when wicked creatures far beyond her preparations were at work. The odd red cap or acromantula were one side of the forest she had come to claim as her hidden playground for escapism as well as expeditions, but dolls were like a whole new breed of evil on their own. Perhaps a somewhat biased opinion after all the talk and rumours she had picked up on but now that she had seen them for herself, a lot more had to be done than simply sitting down and plotting a roundabout course of action.
She knew a good chunk of the forest like the back of her hand by this point. Like the other inhabitants of the abyss, the best she could do would be to investigate and explore safely what these dolls do, how they act... And above all, how to stop them from claiming that kid.
For the life of her, Emily couldn't track those First Years down. At the same time, after an experience like that, she figured they probably didn't want to be pestered when they were more than likely trying to process this entire thing for themselves. In between trying to put the world back to normal and talking with other students privately, they were completely undetected in her radar. Much of the time Emily walked around the campus like a lost soul in hopes of finding at least one of them, to try and talk to them, to make sure they were okay.
Alas. No luck.
Until now.
Walking between the corridors, Emily heard a familiar string of voices coming from outside. She turned her head towards the source and quickly hid behind the corner where she saw them! The kids from that night! With another student Emily unfortunately didn't recognise. They must be from a different year as well.
She caught snippets of their conversation, yet they all seemed to naturally jump at her as she listened at a distance; "This is Finn..." "You're already a part of it," "They won't believe me..."
Emily was slowly piecing bits together. It seemed this Finn fellow with them knew a thing or two about those creatures... And the boy being hunted by these aforementioned abominations... Aamon... Emily had a hunch Finn was possibly looking into this case now for himself too, That made two of them, but who was this "hit wizard" that suddenly got tossed into the conversation?
The first of many words that come to people's mind when thinking about Emily was that she was an optimistic. So when the idea that someone who could eradicate this wicked phenomenon sounded pleasantly promising to her optimistic ears. However, that tiny crack of doubt nurtured by the real stories of her older peers held her back slightly. Assuming there was the chance that no one would believe them or couldn't help them? Emily didn't like the thought of that at all...
It sounded like matters had to be taken into the students' hands after all. Though Emily knew she would be doing this largely by herself. She can't see anyone get caught up in this for their sake. The forest once again beckoned her need to return, but she couldn't dare go down and ask those three in the courtyard to come with her. Too dangerous, especially for those poor firsties.
On the other hand, those dolls were enough to put Emily into cardiac arrest. So maybe going into it alone on the first go wasn't the best move to play just yet.
If she was going to brave the forest looking for them, she'd need extra muscle for sure. Someone who knew their head and defence around dolls better than her. She could ask Evelynn to go... But she's done so much for her already... To turn back round and ask, "by the way, come help me!" felt a bit shallow in Emily's eyes.
Then it hit her.
Of course! Him! It had to be him. He could help. But would it be right to ask him? Emily was afraid it would bring forth old wounds... But he was the only one she knew that took one of them down and lived to tell the tale.
It was settled then.
She slipped away from the courtyard, silently wishing those students well, though also hoping they didn't dig too deep in case it got them into trouble. For the sake of safety, Emily wanted to be the only one to carry that risk, for herself.
But she needed his help.
Where is that Slytherin lank...?
Word Count: 915
Emily slips away from the thread (Good luck y'all!)
Stats: Stamina: 7|Evasion: 6|Strength: 6|Wisdom: 8|Arcane Power: 7|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast |Cat's Grace
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
13 Dec 2024, 01:52
The Huntsman
Despite Avis's best efforts, despite all the sense she made, despite the fact that both of them were trying to help Aamon, the boy simply refused to cooperate. Avis was practically pleading, why did he not trust her at least? Not counting her sharp mind, the girl was entirely harmless, yet Aamon seemed to regard the pair of them like a sheep might a pack of snarling wolves.
His offer should have ended whatever doubts Aamon might have about his intentions. To give away your wand was to disarm yourself completely, unless of course you could cast wandless magic, but did Aamon seriously think him capable of that?
“Can I keep it?”
"Yeah. You keep it"
Great. Not only was he going to give up his wand, the two of them were apparently deciding between themselves where it was going. Finnegan kept his eyes fixed on Aamon, but gave a reluctant nod with his chin. She could take it from his pocket and keep it, for a while. No sooner than he had finished that thought, doubt started to creep back in. Was this really the best way? To give up control? It didn't sit right with him at all. Distrust went both ways and while he did not fear the young Slytherin—the boy had been mostly a victim in his many accidents after all—he did carry that name:
Athanatos. A name so thick with poisonous meaning that it felt like cotton in his mouth.
"it is just that everyone seems to have an angle."
Including you, Aamon...
It did not take a genius to deduce that Aamon was thinking of, or considering escape. The darting of his eyes betrayed his intentions.
"I need to message my brother"
It was that statement which sealed Aamon's fate. A little brother could hardly be blamed for seeking the support of his older sibling, but Aamon had to know, had to at least suspect, that his family's name had a mixed reputation. Worst of all, he did not say which of his brothers he meant.
Gideon? Mathias? Vladimir? All three of them would be alarming. If Gideon heard of this, it would complicate things immensely. Mathias was a known quantity, and though he had already mastered Protego just in case he'd have to fight the fifth-year again, he would rather avoid it. Vladimir was an unknown, but being the eldest of the Athanatos brothersm, Finnegan imagined he would be capable. They did not need the worry of any of Aamon's brothers, Aamon needed to worry only about himself and the curse that plagued him. Was he not from a family of seers? Why then was he so blind to who his true allies were in all this?
"Hit wizards don’t just deal with danger; they end it. Permanently."
"Good," Finnegan said through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin, "this needs ending."
"How can I be sure that he won’t see me as a problem to get rid of."
You seriously think Professor Lécuyer is going to kill you?" He frowned rather than laughed. What an outrageous thing to say. The Professors might be slow on the uptake, but they weren't murderers, that was just mad to think.
All of this was mad. Handing his wand over to some Ravenclaw girl he barely met? Just to appease the snivelling coward in front of him? It was already grating enough that Aamon seemed hellbent on refusing to be helped, an insult really. It won't do. He ought to respect his elders a bit more.
When Avis would move to take his wand from his pocket, Finnegan changed his mind. This won't do at all. She would probably hate him for this, but he would deal with her later, and then somehow get her to help him drag a stunned Aamon all the way to Orion's office. Maybe she wouldn't help, maybe she'd call out for a prefect or Professor. It would all amount to the same thing in the end, because Finnegan was determined to tell a member of staff what Avis had told him, and Aamon was going to come along, whether he wanted to or not.
Like Mathias Athanatos before him, and countless other Slytherins besides, the first-year Slytherin was about to get married to the ground.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
His offer should have ended whatever doubts Aamon might have about his intentions. To give away your wand was to disarm yourself completely, unless of course you could cast wandless magic, but did Aamon seriously think him capable of that?
“Can I keep it?”
"Yeah. You keep it"
Great. Not only was he going to give up his wand, the two of them were apparently deciding between themselves where it was going. Finnegan kept his eyes fixed on Aamon, but gave a reluctant nod with his chin. She could take it from his pocket and keep it, for a while. No sooner than he had finished that thought, doubt started to creep back in. Was this really the best way? To give up control? It didn't sit right with him at all. Distrust went both ways and while he did not fear the young Slytherin—the boy had been mostly a victim in his many accidents after all—he did carry that name:
Athanatos. A name so thick with poisonous meaning that it felt like cotton in his mouth.
"it is just that everyone seems to have an angle."
Including you, Aamon...
It did not take a genius to deduce that Aamon was thinking of, or considering escape. The darting of his eyes betrayed his intentions.
"I need to message my brother"
It was that statement which sealed Aamon's fate. A little brother could hardly be blamed for seeking the support of his older sibling, but Aamon had to know, had to at least suspect, that his family's name had a mixed reputation. Worst of all, he did not say which of his brothers he meant.
Gideon? Mathias? Vladimir? All three of them would be alarming. If Gideon heard of this, it would complicate things immensely. Mathias was a known quantity, and though he had already mastered Protego just in case he'd have to fight the fifth-year again, he would rather avoid it. Vladimir was an unknown, but being the eldest of the Athanatos brothersm, Finnegan imagined he would be capable. They did not need the worry of any of Aamon's brothers, Aamon needed to worry only about himself and the curse that plagued him. Was he not from a family of seers? Why then was he so blind to who his true allies were in all this?
"Hit wizards don’t just deal with danger; they end it. Permanently."
"Good," Finnegan said through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin, "this needs ending."
"How can I be sure that he won’t see me as a problem to get rid of."
You seriously think Professor Lécuyer is going to kill you?" He frowned rather than laughed. What an outrageous thing to say. The Professors might be slow on the uptake, but they weren't murderers, that was just mad to think.
All of this was mad. Handing his wand over to some Ravenclaw girl he barely met? Just to appease the snivelling coward in front of him? It was already grating enough that Aamon seemed hellbent on refusing to be helped, an insult really. It won't do. He ought to respect his elders a bit more.
When Avis would move to take his wand from his pocket, Finnegan changed his mind. This won't do at all. She would probably hate him for this, but he would deal with her later, and then somehow get her to help him drag a stunned Aamon all the way to Orion's office. Maybe she wouldn't help, maybe she'd call out for a prefect or Professor. It would all amount to the same thing in the end, because Finnegan was determined to tell a member of staff what Avis had told him, and Aamon was going to come along, whether he wanted to or not.
Like Mathias Athanatos before him, and countless other Slytherins besides, the first-year Slytherin was about to get married to the ground.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Reducio
OOC note: WELL. That just happened. Turns out: when you throw a dillema at a caveman, the answer is always going to be smash!.
Finn wisdom check:
Casting Petrificus Totalus requires 14
[d20 : 17] + 4
In the end, the result was: 21
Finn accuracy check:
[d20 : 10] + 17
In the end, the result was: 27
Aamon evasion check:
[d20 : 19] + 7
In the end, the result was: 26
Aamon almost dodges the spell, but Finn has 1 point accuracy over Aamon's evasion, so the spell will hit (unless Avis succesfully intervenes OR Aamon hits with a counter spell)
Here is a link to the rolls: https://discord.com/channels/4105394207 ... 4202782770
@Avis Murlong - I suppose you could choose to try to intervene, if you think Avis would do that. Owl me if that's what you want to do so we can determine what the necessary rolls for that might be.
@Aamon Athanatos @Orion Lécuyer
OOC note: WELL. That just happened. Turns out: when you throw a dillema at a caveman, the answer is always going to be smash!.
Finn wisdom check:
Casting Petrificus Totalus requires 14
[d20 : 17] + 4
In the end, the result was: 21
Finn accuracy check:
[d20 : 10] + 17
In the end, the result was: 27
Aamon evasion check:
[d20 : 19] + 7
In the end, the result was: 26
Aamon almost dodges the spell, but Finn has 1 point accuracy over Aamon's evasion, so the spell will hit (unless Avis succesfully intervenes OR Aamon hits with a counter spell)
Here is a link to the rolls: https://discord.com/channels/4105394207 ... 4202782770
@Avis Murlong - I suppose you could choose to try to intervene, if you think Avis would do that. Owl me if that's what you want to do so we can determine what the necessary rolls for that might be.
@Aamon Athanatos @Orion Lécuyer
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
13 Dec 2024, 18:40
The Huntsman
Finally, they were getting somewhere. She could hold Finn's wand, be the mediator, and hopefully something could come out of this. It would have been nice for Aamon to be a bit less hesitant with his permission, but it was something, and Avis would take it. She understood his hesitation and was willing to work with it. To a point.
Aamon was going to message his brother, that was good. He could message his brother, they could figure it out, and a solution could be found. Except apparently, the DADA professor was a hit man. Of course, he was. Was anyone here not hiding a secret? She tried to calm the situation, pacify both Aamon and Finn. "Okay, we can figure something else out then." She spoke at the same time as Finn's less-than-encouraging response. Avis glared at him, breathing out a sharp sigh of annoyance. That was a terrible response. Clearly, Aamon was terrified, affirming his fears was probably not the best way to go.
Her glare deepened into a scowl at Finn's response to Aamon's other reservation. He had no self-control. Whatsoever. "Of course he believed it, that's why he said it." That was the entire problem, Aamon saying things and people not believing him.
Finn had that look on his face. It took Avis a moment to place it, her eyes widening as she did. Finn had looked like that right before he had attacked Pride. "Aamon watch out!" It had been going so well too. And now he was reaching for his wand. Great. That was helpful. Aamon would never trust her again. If he even trusted her now. She flew at Finn, intending to do something. Snatch the wand. Push him over. Really anything to prevent him from casting a spell. She knew which spell it would be, too.
Avis was a first-year student, and Finn was a third. There was no universe in which her attempt could have worked. She wasn't sure if Finn had moved or if she was just that bad at aiming, but she managed to bolt past Finn and tumble onto the ground, but sprang back up immediately, staring daggers at Finn.
Avis had snapped.
She wasn't a temperamental person by any means. Even when she was mad, she found a well-timed sarcastic comment or judgemental point was much more effective than an outburst. But there was something about Aamon, he was, in Avis' opinion, fragile. There was a difference, as a parent, between a child dropping their stuffed animal, or a child dropping their mother's favorite vase. Finn had just tossed a vase down the stairs. And that was unacceptable.
"Finn!" She stormed up to him. She didn't reach for her wand, perfectly aware that there was nothing useful she could do with it. "What. Is. Wrong. With. You. You do realize, I hope, that the reason he was being skeptical is because of people like you? She jabbed a finger at him. "Because people like you have proved his skepticism to be valid! What could have possibly come out of that? And clearly, he was right! There was no reason whatsoever for you to do that? He's never going to trust me again. He's never going to trust anyone again! You are the most impulsive idiot ever. Paralyzing your problems is not the answer! Ever! Give me your wand. I do not trust you next to him with that. " Or at all, really. If Aamon had been defenseless before, he was certainly much more now, and Finn was not keeping his wand. She stepped between him and Aamon, holding out her hand. If he didn't give her his wand, she would...well, realistically, not do anything, but she was banking on Finn not realizing that.
She took a deep breath. She would have gotten out of there, but there was the small problem of the board lying behind her, and she didn't exactly know how to fix that. So she glared at Finn, speaking quietly and darkly. "Now what? His brother will be looking for him. You want to what, drag him through the castle like a package?" That was not happening. That was inhuman.
Aamon was going to message his brother, that was good. He could message his brother, they could figure it out, and a solution could be found. Except apparently, the DADA professor was a hit man. Of course, he was. Was anyone here not hiding a secret? She tried to calm the situation, pacify both Aamon and Finn. "Okay, we can figure something else out then." She spoke at the same time as Finn's less-than-encouraging response. Avis glared at him, breathing out a sharp sigh of annoyance. That was a terrible response. Clearly, Aamon was terrified, affirming his fears was probably not the best way to go.
Her glare deepened into a scowl at Finn's response to Aamon's other reservation. He had no self-control. Whatsoever. "Of course he believed it, that's why he said it." That was the entire problem, Aamon saying things and people not believing him.
Finn had that look on his face. It took Avis a moment to place it, her eyes widening as she did. Finn had looked like that right before he had attacked Pride. "Aamon watch out!" It had been going so well too. And now he was reaching for his wand. Great. That was helpful. Aamon would never trust her again. If he even trusted her now. She flew at Finn, intending to do something. Snatch the wand. Push him over. Really anything to prevent him from casting a spell. She knew which spell it would be, too.
Avis was a first-year student, and Finn was a third. There was no universe in which her attempt could have worked. She wasn't sure if Finn had moved or if she was just that bad at aiming, but she managed to bolt past Finn and tumble onto the ground, but sprang back up immediately, staring daggers at Finn.
Avis had snapped.
She wasn't a temperamental person by any means. Even when she was mad, she found a well-timed sarcastic comment or judgemental point was much more effective than an outburst. But there was something about Aamon, he was, in Avis' opinion, fragile. There was a difference, as a parent, between a child dropping their stuffed animal, or a child dropping their mother's favorite vase. Finn had just tossed a vase down the stairs. And that was unacceptable.
"Finn!" She stormed up to him. She didn't reach for her wand, perfectly aware that there was nothing useful she could do with it. "What. Is. Wrong. With. You. You do realize, I hope, that the reason he was being skeptical is because of people like you? She jabbed a finger at him. "Because people like you have proved his skepticism to be valid! What could have possibly come out of that? And clearly, he was right! There was no reason whatsoever for you to do that? He's never going to trust me again. He's never going to trust anyone again! You are the most impulsive idiot ever. Paralyzing your problems is not the answer! Ever! Give me your wand. I do not trust you next to him with that. " Or at all, really. If Aamon had been defenseless before, he was certainly much more now, and Finn was not keeping his wand. She stepped between him and Aamon, holding out her hand. If he didn't give her his wand, she would...well, realistically, not do anything, but she was banking on Finn not realizing that.
She took a deep breath. She would have gotten out of there, but there was the small problem of the board lying behind her, and she didn't exactly know how to fix that. So she glared at Finn, speaking quietly and darkly. "Now what? His brother will be looking for him. You want to what, drag him through the castle like a package?" That was not happening. That was inhuman.
Reducio
Avis is trying to tackle Finn.
Avis accuracy check:
[d20 : 11] + 6
In the end, the result was: 17
Finn evasion check:
[d20 : 12] + 10
In the end, the result was: 22
It was a long shot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I *think* that's right.
Avis is trying to tackle Finn.
Avis accuracy check:
[d20 : 11] + 6
In the end, the result was: 17
Finn evasion check:
[d20 : 12] + 10
In the end, the result was: 22
It was a long shot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I *think* that's right.
Last edited by Avis Marlong on 15 Dec 2024, 20:34, edited 2 times in total.
Avis Marlong | ”She won't cry or beg for help...she'll isolate from the world and fight her own demons so that nobody can throw it in her face later.” |
"The odds of hitting your target increase dramatically when you aim at it." Benji Marecos |
15 Dec 2024, 19:27
The Huntsman
He saw the grip on the wand shift. Aamon's eyes widened. He tried to react. He tried to get out of the way, not knowing what the elder Gryffindor was about to do.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
His limbs snapped to his sides and Aamon’s body hit the ground hard. He was not able to catch his falling form with an outstretched hand. His head hit the stone ground hard, a shock of stars swam in front of his vision. His head throbbed, and though his limbs were frozen, his mind raced with a storm of fear and panic. He could still see, still hear, still feel the moist, cold stone against his back, but he couldn’t move. His chest screamed for air as his breathing became shallow, the inability to so much as flinch amplifying his terror.
This was a trap. A setup.
His thoughts spun wildly. They’re just like the others—just like the ones who’ve been watching him since the article came out. No, since even before that. It was simply a facet of life, being a target, but without the protection of his clan he was vulnerable. They don’t want to help me; they just want to control me. Or worse.
The shadows above him shifted as Finn stood over him. Aamon’s wide, terrified eyes locked on the older boy, trying to convey what his mouth couldn’t: Don’t. Don’t do this. Please.
The situation replayed in his mind, over and over, every step leading up to this moment. Finn’s harsh responses, the tension in his voice, the way he had started reaching for his wand—Aamon should have run. He should have run. And now here he was, sprawled on the ground like a prey animal, utterly helpless.
A glimmer of hope sparked when Avis's voice broke through his panic, her anger sharp and biting. She was furious, standing up for him, stepping between him and Finn. But the damage was already done.
I trusted you, Avis, he thought bitterly, his mind twisting with betrayal. You brought him here. You let this happen.
And yet, he couldn’t direct all his anger at her. The way she glared at Finn, the fire in her voice as she demanded his wand—she hadn’t planned this. She hadn’t wanted this. But it didn’t matter. Aamon didn’t trust her anymore. He couldn’t.
This is how it starts, he thought bitterly. First, they say they want to help you. Then, they break you. His brothers had warned him and he didn't listen.
His mind shifted to Vladimir. His brother would notice if Aamon didn’t show up. He’d know something was wrong. But would he come? Would he even care? Or had Vlad fallen too far, lost too much of himself to be the brother Aamon needed?
The mark on his side itched faintly, a cruel reminder of what awaited him no matter where he turned.
As Avis continued berating Finn, Aamon’s mind worked desperately. He couldn’t stay like this. He needed to move, to escape. If he could just break free, he wouldn’t stop running until he was far away—from Finn, from Avis, from the school, from everyone.
For now, though, all he could do was lie there, his fear burning behind his frozen eyes, and wait for his chance.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
His limbs snapped to his sides and Aamon’s body hit the ground hard. He was not able to catch his falling form with an outstretched hand. His head hit the stone ground hard, a shock of stars swam in front of his vision. His head throbbed, and though his limbs were frozen, his mind raced with a storm of fear and panic. He could still see, still hear, still feel the moist, cold stone against his back, but he couldn’t move. His chest screamed for air as his breathing became shallow, the inability to so much as flinch amplifying his terror.
This was a trap. A setup.
His thoughts spun wildly. They’re just like the others—just like the ones who’ve been watching him since the article came out. No, since even before that. It was simply a facet of life, being a target, but without the protection of his clan he was vulnerable. They don’t want to help me; they just want to control me. Or worse.
The shadows above him shifted as Finn stood over him. Aamon’s wide, terrified eyes locked on the older boy, trying to convey what his mouth couldn’t: Don’t. Don’t do this. Please.
The situation replayed in his mind, over and over, every step leading up to this moment. Finn’s harsh responses, the tension in his voice, the way he had started reaching for his wand—Aamon should have run. He should have run. And now here he was, sprawled on the ground like a prey animal, utterly helpless.
A glimmer of hope sparked when Avis's voice broke through his panic, her anger sharp and biting. She was furious, standing up for him, stepping between him and Finn. But the damage was already done.
I trusted you, Avis, he thought bitterly, his mind twisting with betrayal. You brought him here. You let this happen.
And yet, he couldn’t direct all his anger at her. The way she glared at Finn, the fire in her voice as she demanded his wand—she hadn’t planned this. She hadn’t wanted this. But it didn’t matter. Aamon didn’t trust her anymore. He couldn’t.
This is how it starts, he thought bitterly. First, they say they want to help you. Then, they break you. His brothers had warned him and he didn't listen.
His mind shifted to Vladimir. His brother would notice if Aamon didn’t show up. He’d know something was wrong. But would he come? Would he even care? Or had Vlad fallen too far, lost too much of himself to be the brother Aamon needed?
The mark on his side itched faintly, a cruel reminder of what awaited him no matter where he turned.
As Avis continued berating Finn, Aamon’s mind worked desperately. He couldn’t stay like this. He needed to move, to escape. If he could just break free, he wouldn’t stop running until he was far away—from Finn, from Avis, from the school, from everyone.
For now, though, all he could do was lie there, his fear burning behind his frozen eyes, and wait for his chance.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos