A Bitter Retreat Closed

Demure was an odd emotion on Eve. Or maybe not demure, but just— uncomfortable, withdrawn. Bast had only ever seen his Housemate when she was in her element, chin raised and almost defiant in her assurance. This was... strange. It was oddly humanizing, as if seeing Eve act somewhat more like an eleven year old girl reminded him that she was, in fact, such a creature. He also did not like it in the slightest. He preferred Eve when she was comfortable and acting normally. 

He was starting to run out of ways to try to alleviate the awkward tension and achieve that sense of normality. Very,  very few would ever claim that Bast was good at navigating emotions; he might have a good read on what others were feeling, but that never did him any good in terms of trying to fix situations. At least taking a walk down to the Hospital Wing would have given him some time to stall and stop standing there staring at her while she looked anywhere but at him. Besides, the nurses had bedside manner and whatnot; they could cheer Eve up, maybe. Or so he had hoped, before she dashed his plans. 

He almost argued with her that the nurses were trained for this sort of thing in the first place, and that certainly she should be going to the nurses when it was their job instead of turning to a Professor, but he bit his tongue. Maybe Eve just got on fairly well with Price. Maybe she hated nurses. Bast was still contemplating whether or not he felt like fighting her on this when he finally decided to take a new approach, and was relieved when she not only looked up but actually laughed. 

Thank Merlin, he thought, finding a shred of normalcy to cling to. He was not well equipped to deal with crying girls. He nodded as she spoke, arching a brow at the news of even more scandal, and snorted, "No offense, Eve, but I think anyone who is going around attacking peers probably doesn't care in the slightest about our Professors to begin with. Ignoring them was probably stage one of her delinquency." 

He cocked his head to the side, eyeing her for a moment, and hadn't missed the fact that she hadn't exactly said no to some form of retaliation. Interesting. He hadn't been entirely sure if he could count Eve has the spiteful sort, or even the mildly mischievous; it seemed she wasn't entirely Miss Good-Two-Shoes then, was she? She was still a swot — just a swot with personality. He grinned crookedly at her, both at her speculation and his internal reflection, and added, "Oh, I bet we'll find her name out easy. I mean, it's not like she's exactly keeping to herself now, is she? I think she's a git and off her rocker. Deserves to have all her books misplaced, if you ask me."

& @Evelynn Decipio.

Interacting with @Bastille Aurelius

In cases such as this, Evelynn generally sought solitude. To escape those that had caused her whatever harm she had sustained, be it emotional or physical or some combination of the two, and the reality that surrounded it. It was easier that way. She could dive into music, or work, or something else as equally engaging in order to forget what ailed her. She could ignore the world. Here, however, there was no escape. Not really. The dorms, shared with every other Gryffindor girl her age, were no safe haven. The bathrooms were teaming with other weeping girls, the halls were patrolled by prefects and professors, and who knew who was lurking in the shadows of those corners of the castle one might have thought to be vacant. Even the portraits had eyes.

It was odd, then, and horribly uncomfortable, standing there in the hall, in the open, in this state of vulnerability. Already, several times during this brief exchange, Evelynn had had to fight the urge to flee. To do so, though, would be to admit weakness. To concede to someone else an ineptitude to shrug off the very real hurt that she had sustained. Even this thought made her swallow, a growing sense of anxiety catching in her throat. It annoyed her. That she couldn't just bring herself to laugh it off. That she let it affect her. It was pathetic. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Far from it. She doubted it would be the last. It should be the last, though. It was probably because she was weak that she was targeted in the first place. If she could only be stronger. To fight back. Or better yet, just not react at all, then it would sap the power of the action. Leave the perpetrator looking the idiot. Intellectually, she knew this. She knew how to overcome it. How many times had her mother walked her through bully psychology? She knew the answer to that, too: every winter holiday and every summer break upon her return home from boarding school in response to the letters received by the headmistress of the various incidents… So why was it still happening…

A sudden pinch of pain jolted her from her thoughts. Glancing down to source the reason, Evelynn saw white-knuckled fists pressed into her sides. Forcing them to relax, she turned their palms up just enough to note reddened crescents, four to each. With a lick of her lips and another furtive glance towards the hall, she curled her fingers closed again to hide the evidence.

"You're probably right…" she muttered, only now working through what Aurelius had said, her tone clipped in self-agitation. "I hope they expel her," she said bitterly, although not truly committed to that desire. It would be convenient, though, if she didn't have to be at risk of random assaults for no good reason. "I don't understand how swine like that could be welcomed into what's supposedly a prestigious school in the first place…"

Well, on the plus side, the little pit-party she had been experiencing was gradually ebbing in favour of anger. Contrary to Bastille's original beliefs, she could be quite spiteful. Thoughts began to sprout within her mind as they often did after she'd been wronged, of how best to even the score. Steel eyes glared in the direction of the party. Tit for tat. Measure for measure. Eye for an eye. But subtly. She wasn't brave. She wasn't strong. Nor was she particularly keen on inviting any reason to land herself in detention or be seen as anything less than model academic. If she pursued anything, she would have to be smart about it. Devious. Dare she say it, she would have to shed her fur coat for scales. To do that, she would need to arm herself. And what better weapon than that of knowledge.

"She deserves more than that, if you ask me," Evelynn decided, her tone calming in the shadow of machination. "Tell me," she continued, her gaze peeling from the direction of the hall to flick to Aurelius as she turned on the spot and made to make her way towards the marble stairs and head for Gryffindor Tower. "You've been spending a good deal of time with that Hufflepuff girl. Any connections in Slytherin? Or perhaps she does?"

Perhaps he could be useful to her. Like many students, he didn't seem to be bound by any need to associate only with those of his own House. If Aurelius had spent time with anyone from the snake pit, there was a chance she could probe that connection for information. To find out a name, for starts, and then work from there.