The Tales of Half-bloods. Finished

wearing: uniform

hex: #1f3b4d

He had pulled lightly on a ribbon just to see it fall spectacularly. Through his earlier speech he had no idea the first years would jump to take such offense. Perhaps he had forgotten the sharpness of his tone, the coldness of his demeanor, but he didn’t intend for his words to be taken so harshly. Sure, he hit the usual points. He deflected the boy’s question, drew attention to their barely perceptible lapse in good manners, molded one of their accusations into a negative judgment toward them.

What Wyatt failed to notice as it developed was the girl’s redirection of anger from the general situation to him, and he was currently on the receiving end of her frustration. He felt excitement bubbling within him, hanging onto the girl’s every word in anticipation. He hadn’t had a good argument in a while. But another part of him, one that was trying to be better, was struggling to win over his combative side. It was telling him not to give in and let a few first years bring him to such a low.

“Noble,” he smirked, baring a few teeth. Had it been a few years ago he may have dived into a monologue defending his terrible reputation, but now, he had to choose between following his own exhaustion with the impromptu argument and clearing his name. Wyatt was the farthest thing from a savior, and it confused him to be labeled as such. He couldn’t possibly accept that he may have actually been helpful in sending away the two bullies, and had to mask the feeling with layers upon layers of apathy. He’d already chosen this path anyway, having been slightly hostile toward the duo from the start. He listened attentively through the girl’s rebuttals, looking for something to cling to.

“If you don’t like to be read for an open book, then close off a bit. Vermin don’t spew venom. Spiders, scorpions, snakes, dangerous things do. I won’t delude myself into thinking you’d take my word for it, but if you don’t want to get bitten, don’t stick out your arm. And if you do, be prepared to fight back with the other,” Wyatt leveled with the girl, his tone growing shorter with his rising annoyance.

“I won't mistake your ‘restraint’ for weakness so long as you don’t confuse a chance interference for a savior. If I wanted you indebted to me, Lion, you would know,” Wyatt countered.

Ah, he noticed, then. A slight shift to her side, the Lion girl inching near the boy as she spoke what sounded to be damn near a threat. Wyatt weighed his options. He was never one to duel beyond words, he preferred it that way, since verbal scars last a lot longer than physical ones, and are far easier to explain away. His mind split in two, one half planning his exit from the escalating situation, not so invested he’d risk a professor’s involvement, and the other thumbing through an index of spells that may come in handy against a couple of first years early in their schooling days. Sure it was two against one, and if they threw a knockback jinx his way he may start to lose his focus and balance, but a couple of well-aimed tongue-tying spells would be more than all he needed to leave should a duel break out.

“Do you take me for a prefect? I won’t waste my time trying to track you down to report you to a professor for doing nothing,” he raised an eyebrow in the boy’s direction, “and if you believed that to be my plan, why on Earth would you give me your name? I have no plans to inform my… fellow Slytherins of your intent to give them a stern talking-to, I certainly have no stake in their lives, let alone their blood claim.”

It seemed more and more like the boy, Sanguinius Demarest (Wyatt swore to remember), was going to take the girl’s side on this. He’d puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders in an attempt to make himself look bigger, as someone might do to a bear in the woods. Wyatt had half a mind to laugh, the boy being almost a foot shorter than him, he had to crane his neck just to tell Wyatt off. In truth, Wyatt should have known better than to meddle with the short tempers of Gryffindors. He was starting to think it would have been more amusing to watch the Slytherins throw jabs about blood purity than to be in the middle of this entirely-too-heated debate. Wyatt’s reasonable side won over.

“I’m as wise as you two are sensible, I’m afraid I have no wisdom to share,” Wyatt said, almost softly. The two were starting to annoy him, two mosquitos circling his head, constantly buzzing and evading every swipe. “Try not to be late for your next class.”

With that, he nodded to the boy, “Demarest”, and the girl, wordlessly. And then he would take his leave, hoping the abrupt exit would give the duo enough pause to reconsider their intent to duel him. It was likely in that event, if he retaliated, he’d also get in trouble. He had no plans to take detention so he could trade hexes with a couple of first-year Lions.

Wyatt is leaving the thread, unless stopped.

Mentioned: n/a
Intreracting: @Sanguinius Demarest @Meiyu Xiang

In spite of what Meiyu almost believed to be an alliance with the fellow lion, the boy was far too quick for her liking to introduce himself to the older boy, who was yet to introduce himself. As an act of retaliation, she had mentally vowed to not rush to haste to the self-proclaimed saviour of this afternoon. Her usually expressive eyes had followed the two boys as they continued their brief interaction of introductions, though evident to her that the lions metaphorical hackles were a coy attempt in approval seeking, had she known better or perhaps if she was one of their peers, she may have swooned at his chivalry laced with a poor attempt at sarcastic innuendos.

"Now, hold on." The lion had clearly presumed her earlier — arguably embarrassing, angry demeanour indicated more than she had intended to convey during their encounter. Eager to listen to what the older boy, who she had learned to be named Wyatt, though the name was forgettable in comparison to his more than favourable genetical advantage. Yet as he continued, his looks played no role in the prevention of the rage that bubbled within her, smirking in a degrading manner toward her, she longed for something vile to occur to this boy, clearly deserving of it from how he spoke to her.

She maintained a devilish glare as had levelled with her, almost staring directly into him - not in futile attempts to intimidate the older Slytherin, her mind racing with something to spew back at him in spite, though unable to calculate a formulae that would do justice, opting to just listen and glare at him. It was only once he mentioned the act of being indebted towards him, one thing she had prayed would never succumb.

Meiyu’s eyes flickered with a hint of a smirk as she met Wyatt’s gaze with a sudden spark of confidence settling over her. "Don't flatter yourself, Snake. I am far from the type to owe anyone anything, least of all someone who clearly thinks he’s doing me a favour just by standing there.” she replied, arching a brow. Her voice laced with sarcasm, but her gaze lingered on him a beat too long, betrayed by a flicker of intrigue she couldn’t quite conceal.

“Your futile attempt to impress me did not work, I suggest trying a little harder next time.” She concluded, her tone lilting with a hint of mockery.

With Wyatt nodding to the pair and his almost cruel lack of acknowledgment to Meiyu, she had found herself unable to shake the growing curiosity and the strange thrill he seemed to spark within her, there was something about Wyatt that had infuriated her which made the young girl almost feel inferior and succumb to his charms. Not wishing to waste time pondering on the older boy any longer, she motioned to Sanguinius to take their leave, her brows furrowed.

"Come." Meiyu huffed with annoyance, turning on her heel and walking away from the scene where events had previously transpired.

Meiyu leaves the thread.