11 May 2018, 01:42
Fact & Fiction
If circumstances had been different, Max would've laughed at Richie claiming he wasn't scared. He knew from the moment he invoked his family name that these kids would back off - they, at least, recognized it. Dark wizards known for their clinical viciousness and mastery over Unforgivable Curses weren't the type of people even other pure-bloods messed with, especially if they were children. He only wished Aubren would've recognized it way before now, because if she had then they wouldn't be in a situation where he'd be forced to do what he was about to do.
He resisted the urge to shut his eyes when Richie pointed out the fact that Aubren was crying. As much as he'd like to think it was all because of Richie's words, he knew better. His words were always sharpened to a point and it was only a matter of time until they cut the people around him.
A better person would've turned around the second Richie left to comfort Aubren with words promising that none of the insults had been meant. This 'good Samaritan' in his head would also probably draw her into a hug to calm her down, and maybe even find something to say that had some semblance of kindness to cheer her up. He wasn't sure what kind of words those would be - he was much better at the cutting kind - but anything nice at all would likely help. Instead, the second the library door shut behind the Harper boy and his cronies, Max closed his eyes and dug deep.
No more Mudbloods or Muggles anymore. He'd promised on his hands and knees, sworn on the pain of death for his former-friend. He was pretty sure his parents wouldn't lord it over him anymore, but who knew? Why did it matter, anyway? He didn't care about Muggles. He shouldn't care if they killed Tom after all this time. Just like he shouldn't care about the fact that this stupid half-blood girl was silently crying behind him because of what he'd said.
"It's a word," he said quietly, in a voice edged with frost. He refused to turn around as he struggled to keep his face blank, working his bottom lip between his teeth hard enough to shred it. Aubren was smart and she'd been good with the spell she'd used. But his parents would still grind her up and use her to salt their egos; destroying her wouldn't even be a full meal for them. "You're crying over a goddamn word. It's ridiculous." He could feel the ghost of his father's fingers digging bruises into his shoulders.
"You seriously thought you could claim you were a pure-blood and have my friendship for the next few years? What kind of person does that? 'Oh, I'm an Anson, my family is from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.' Are you that pathetic that you can't be friends with one of your own kind? Who do you think you are?" The hardest thing about saying it was how easy the words came. They lived on the surface of his mind and he barely had to think for them to roll out of his mouth. Blood welled up where he was digging his teeth in and spread across his lower lip. "You can forget everything that just happened. He was a bug, but you're less than that. You're less than the dust the family maid washes off the floor."
Then he couldn't say anymore, because bile was burning his throat and if he opened his mouth he was going to throw up. He opened his eyes, the library suddenly looking overwhelming bright, and forced himself to move forward. "Never talk to me again." His voice had never sounded so much like his mother's as he stiffly walked to the door, refusing to allow himself to look back. It was for her own good. It was for her own good. Itwasforherowngood.
He was going to throw up and then sleep for the next seven years.
He resisted the urge to shut his eyes when Richie pointed out the fact that Aubren was crying. As much as he'd like to think it was all because of Richie's words, he knew better. His words were always sharpened to a point and it was only a matter of time until they cut the people around him.
A better person would've turned around the second Richie left to comfort Aubren with words promising that none of the insults had been meant. This 'good Samaritan' in his head would also probably draw her into a hug to calm her down, and maybe even find something to say that had some semblance of kindness to cheer her up. He wasn't sure what kind of words those would be - he was much better at the cutting kind - but anything nice at all would likely help. Instead, the second the library door shut behind the Harper boy and his cronies, Max closed his eyes and dug deep.
No more Mudbloods or Muggles anymore. He'd promised on his hands and knees, sworn on the pain of death for his former-friend. He was pretty sure his parents wouldn't lord it over him anymore, but who knew? Why did it matter, anyway? He didn't care about Muggles. He shouldn't care if they killed Tom after all this time. Just like he shouldn't care about the fact that this stupid half-blood girl was silently crying behind him because of what he'd said.
"It's a word," he said quietly, in a voice edged with frost. He refused to turn around as he struggled to keep his face blank, working his bottom lip between his teeth hard enough to shred it. Aubren was smart and she'd been good with the spell she'd used. But his parents would still grind her up and use her to salt their egos; destroying her wouldn't even be a full meal for them. "You're crying over a goddamn word. It's ridiculous." He could feel the ghost of his father's fingers digging bruises into his shoulders.
"You seriously thought you could claim you were a pure-blood and have my friendship for the next few years? What kind of person does that? 'Oh, I'm an Anson, my family is from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.' Are you that pathetic that you can't be friends with one of your own kind? Who do you think you are?" The hardest thing about saying it was how easy the words came. They lived on the surface of his mind and he barely had to think for them to roll out of his mouth. Blood welled up where he was digging his teeth in and spread across his lower lip. "You can forget everything that just happened. He was a bug, but you're less than that. You're less than the dust the family maid washes off the floor."
Then he couldn't say anymore, because bile was burning his throat and if he opened his mouth he was going to throw up. He opened his eyes, the library suddenly looking overwhelming bright, and forced himself to move forward. "Never talk to me again." His voice had never sounded so much like his mother's as he stiffly walked to the door, refusing to allow himself to look back. It was for her own good. It was for her own good. Itwasforherowngood.
He was going to throw up and then sleep for the next seven years.
"There’s something brittle in me that will break before it bends."
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8
14 May 2018, 02:10
Fact & Fiction
He broke her heart.
You could hear it in her quiet sobs, her soft voice, everything.
She quietly said his name, almost in disbelief.
"Max?"
Over, and over, and over. Each call a bit louder, each tone more broken.
How would he be able to sleep at night? Having her say his name like that? To call out to him in pain? How could he walk away with her broken, falling all alone?
He was an Avery.
That's why he was able to say every word, and take every step.
Without a glance back.
She thought of herself to be a fool, an idiot. Her body was shaking horribly, a strong cold air swept over her like a frost bitten winter. There was no warmth from the girl, no longer did her eyes burn with joy or kindness, there was only a hollow brown, like a dead tree. The warm smile was gone, replaced with melting sobs. Her face in all looked shattered, a priceless doll knocked off of it's shelf, only to be left in pieces.
Was it for her own good? Or was it for his?
Time would tell, but in the present, the Gryffindor watched the Avery step out from the library. A sudden rush of anger, and a quick whip of her wand, and the mighty library door slammed shut behind him, clipping him on the heels in a strong force. The echoing slam spoke silent words, although it were to remind him of the broken girl he had shattered himself.
"YOU'RE HORRIBLE! I TRUSTED YOU! I TRUSTED YOU!" Aubren's voice screeched from the library, only to have the angry tone break at the end, where a sob had choked out.
"PURE-ASSHOLE!" The door shuddered with a loud thud, an obvious spark of a spell was shot at the door, as though the spell was meant to keep him out for good. However, the anger that honed that comment died, and as soon as she finished, there was a scream.
From her.
Not of anger, but from pain.
Then there were more sobs.
At this point, you would believe a librarian would have arrived, or a student, or a teacher, or anyone, but no one did.
It was just Aubren.
She was hurting, her mind racing and racing in a downwards spiral. It was clear she was never going to leave the library, not now, not in an hour, and not for a long time. Her mind ached, confused and pain sparking in every direction of her body. Like a candle, she was a burning fire. She was a gift, but the cold words of Maxwell Avery blew that fire out, leaving her melted and cold by his own hand. What happened to the other Max? The Max that promised to have her back when she needed him? The Max that promised adventure?
She missed him, dearly, but she would not let him in.
With tears streaming, she threw herself into one of the wooden chairs, folding her arms on top of the wooden table surface before covering her face, hiding her sobs from him, the school, the world.
"For a moment, I didn't think you'd do it."
A familiar voice near Max called out, right before the familiar crunch of what sounded of an apple.
"Then again, here you are. I haven't been able to make her cry like that, guess I've been playing the game wrong." Richard Harper appeared from the shadows casted by the torches above. A green apple in one hand, a proud smirk plastered on his face, and the look of no regret in his eyes.
A monster.
"I give you my thanks. With you out of the way, you left her perfectly defenseless. It'll be so easy for me now to shatter that Anson slut, with you gone, she'll won't even bother to fight."
That's what Max gets in reward.
A thank you, from the Richard Harper.
He tossed the green apple up and down in his hand.
"Which reminds me, by the sound of it, you probably shattered her already. I bet your proud, your dad would be. I'm glad the blood's not on my hands, but don't worry about it, it's not like you even cared for her anyway"
He tossed the apple to the ground, the food rolling to a stop by Max's foot. With a swift motion, Richie was gone, walking down the hall with a skip in his step.
You could hear it in her quiet sobs, her soft voice, everything.
She quietly said his name, almost in disbelief.
"Max?"
Over, and over, and over. Each call a bit louder, each tone more broken.
How would he be able to sleep at night? Having her say his name like that? To call out to him in pain? How could he walk away with her broken, falling all alone?
He was an Avery.
That's why he was able to say every word, and take every step.
Without a glance back.
She thought of herself to be a fool, an idiot. Her body was shaking horribly, a strong cold air swept over her like a frost bitten winter. There was no warmth from the girl, no longer did her eyes burn with joy or kindness, there was only a hollow brown, like a dead tree. The warm smile was gone, replaced with melting sobs. Her face in all looked shattered, a priceless doll knocked off of it's shelf, only to be left in pieces.
Was it for her own good? Or was it for his?
Time would tell, but in the present, the Gryffindor watched the Avery step out from the library. A sudden rush of anger, and a quick whip of her wand, and the mighty library door slammed shut behind him, clipping him on the heels in a strong force. The echoing slam spoke silent words, although it were to remind him of the broken girl he had shattered himself.
"YOU'RE HORRIBLE! I TRUSTED YOU! I TRUSTED YOU!" Aubren's voice screeched from the library, only to have the angry tone break at the end, where a sob had choked out.
"PURE-ASSHOLE!" The door shuddered with a loud thud, an obvious spark of a spell was shot at the door, as though the spell was meant to keep him out for good. However, the anger that honed that comment died, and as soon as she finished, there was a scream.
From her.
Not of anger, but from pain.
Then there were more sobs.
At this point, you would believe a librarian would have arrived, or a student, or a teacher, or anyone, but no one did.
It was just Aubren.
She was hurting, her mind racing and racing in a downwards spiral. It was clear she was never going to leave the library, not now, not in an hour, and not for a long time. Her mind ached, confused and pain sparking in every direction of her body. Like a candle, she was a burning fire. She was a gift, but the cold words of Maxwell Avery blew that fire out, leaving her melted and cold by his own hand. What happened to the other Max? The Max that promised to have her back when she needed him? The Max that promised adventure?
She missed him, dearly, but she would not let him in.
With tears streaming, she threw herself into one of the wooden chairs, folding her arms on top of the wooden table surface before covering her face, hiding her sobs from him, the school, the world.
"For a moment, I didn't think you'd do it."
A familiar voice near Max called out, right before the familiar crunch of what sounded of an apple.
"Then again, here you are. I haven't been able to make her cry like that, guess I've been playing the game wrong." Richard Harper appeared from the shadows casted by the torches above. A green apple in one hand, a proud smirk plastered on his face, and the look of no regret in his eyes.
A monster.
"I give you my thanks. With you out of the way, you left her perfectly defenseless. It'll be so easy for me now to shatter that Anson slut, with you gone, she'll won't even bother to fight."
That's what Max gets in reward.
A thank you, from the Richard Harper.
He tossed the green apple up and down in his hand.
"Which reminds me, by the sound of it, you probably shattered her already. I bet your proud, your dad would be. I'm glad the blood's not on my hands, but don't worry about it, it's not like you even cared for her anyway"
He tossed the apple to the ground, the food rolling to a stop by Max's foot. With a swift motion, Richie was gone, walking down the hall with a skip in his step.
ѕнe вlooмѕ wιtн ɢrαce ιɴ lιfe'ѕ ɢαrdeɴ
~A.A, Gryffindor
5 Jun 2018, 15:27
Fact & Fiction
He kept walking, no matter what he heard behind him. He wasn't overly empathetic or emotional, but he thought he might be able to empathize at this moment with how Orpheus had felt leaving the underworld with the one key rule of not being able to look behind him. Don't look behind you or you'll send Eurydice back to Hell. If he looked behind himself and saw the expression on Aubren's face he might just break, and to try and comfort her now would be the same thing as sending her to the underworld's pits.
The door slammed behind him before he was fully out, sending him stumbling a bit and again nearly breaking the embargo he'd put on wearing what he was feeling on his face. At least it blocked out the sounds of her breaking behind him. Friends weren't what they were cracked up to be, anyway. He knew that. Friends were more like toys - you played with them until they broke, and they always broke. Better now than after they'd spent a few years together and he'd worn her down with the kind of rough play he was expected to keep up. So why didn't it feel better?
Tonguing a bit of blood off his lip, he reflexively went still at the sound of someone nearby, side-eyeing the newcomer with a stiff-spined look of wariness. He thought he'd dealt with this guy already, this serpent who could bite big but didn't have enough venom to kill. Eyes narrowing to slits, he remained mute and didn't even allow himself to sneer. Let this boy know he wasn't worth an expression.
The game. The reminder that this was all a game and that you shouldn't get attached to the pieces did something Richie would never understand to Max's mind. This kid was clearly remorseless and if Max actually walked away from Aubren and left her defenseless, he'd probably do things that you could find if you looked up cruelty in the dictionary.
But here was a truth: to really break someone, you had to care. Once you knew them enough to care, you had an insight into just what cracks to widen to make them fall apart.
And here was another truth: sometimes, Max really did care too much.
He let Richie walk away without saying anything, thinking of how proud his dad would be. He'd get a hearty clap on the shoulder, a 'now you're acting more a like a man,' a night where he didn't have to tiptoe around his own house. If he wanted to be happy in his house, it really came down to ruining other people's happiness; he could either take one for the team or go around hurting people. And -
"Shut up," he muttered to himself when Richie was out of earshot. "Shut up. Shut up, you self-pitying piece of shit." His chest felt tight, constricted like the air he was taking in wasn't making it past his throat. With a sound that was mostly anger and a touch of pain, he lifted his foot and smashed it down on the apple, sounding white flecks and juice all over the floor. It didn't make him feel better.
Hand clutching the front of his robes like he was having a heart attack, he had to take a few shaky steps to set his other palm against the wall as he focused on trying to get air in. He'd broken her. He'd broken her like his parents had broken Tom, and he hadn't even needed the Cruciatus Curse. "Shut up." Maybe he could grow up to be even better at it than them. If he gave his entire self over to it, he could definitely find more creative ways to break people. "Shut..." Every time he'd break himself in the process, but when you put yourself back together the pieces fit differently. He'd keep changing, every time, until it stopped hurting. "Stop it." He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. There was a film of tears over his eyes. "Stop it. Please. Please."
No matter how much he tried to fight it with cold logic, the quieter voice in his mind kept whispering an undertone of things about how he shouldn't have to think like this; he shouldn't have to be this way if he didn't want to. It was that voice he kept trying to get to shut up, because he had everything a boy could want and had no right to think badly about his life.
He didn't know how long he stood there, silently wrestling with himself until he was able to make the tears go away without spilling. So long that he was afraid Aubren might come out and find him like this, at least. The thought of facing her now almost drove him to crying again, but he managed to clamp it down just enough to straighten and make his shaky legs carry him away from the library. Crying and pitying was for the weak, he finally managed to convince himself as the fight for breath subsided and he could get a lungful of air again. Yeah, he'd done the right thing. He'd just try not to think about it again for as long as he lived.
The door slammed behind him before he was fully out, sending him stumbling a bit and again nearly breaking the embargo he'd put on wearing what he was feeling on his face. At least it blocked out the sounds of her breaking behind him. Friends weren't what they were cracked up to be, anyway. He knew that. Friends were more like toys - you played with them until they broke, and they always broke. Better now than after they'd spent a few years together and he'd worn her down with the kind of rough play he was expected to keep up. So why didn't it feel better?
Tonguing a bit of blood off his lip, he reflexively went still at the sound of someone nearby, side-eyeing the newcomer with a stiff-spined look of wariness. He thought he'd dealt with this guy already, this serpent who could bite big but didn't have enough venom to kill. Eyes narrowing to slits, he remained mute and didn't even allow himself to sneer. Let this boy know he wasn't worth an expression.
The game. The reminder that this was all a game and that you shouldn't get attached to the pieces did something Richie would never understand to Max's mind. This kid was clearly remorseless and if Max actually walked away from Aubren and left her defenseless, he'd probably do things that you could find if you looked up cruelty in the dictionary.
But here was a truth: to really break someone, you had to care. Once you knew them enough to care, you had an insight into just what cracks to widen to make them fall apart.
And here was another truth: sometimes, Max really did care too much.
He let Richie walk away without saying anything, thinking of how proud his dad would be. He'd get a hearty clap on the shoulder, a 'now you're acting more a like a man,' a night where he didn't have to tiptoe around his own house. If he wanted to be happy in his house, it really came down to ruining other people's happiness; he could either take one for the team or go around hurting people. And -
"Shut up," he muttered to himself when Richie was out of earshot. "Shut up. Shut up, you self-pitying piece of shit." His chest felt tight, constricted like the air he was taking in wasn't making it past his throat. With a sound that was mostly anger and a touch of pain, he lifted his foot and smashed it down on the apple, sounding white flecks and juice all over the floor. It didn't make him feel better.
Hand clutching the front of his robes like he was having a heart attack, he had to take a few shaky steps to set his other palm against the wall as he focused on trying to get air in. He'd broken her. He'd broken her like his parents had broken Tom, and he hadn't even needed the Cruciatus Curse. "Shut up." Maybe he could grow up to be even better at it than them. If he gave his entire self over to it, he could definitely find more creative ways to break people. "Shut..." Every time he'd break himself in the process, but when you put yourself back together the pieces fit differently. He'd keep changing, every time, until it stopped hurting. "Stop it." He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. There was a film of tears over his eyes. "Stop it. Please. Please."
No matter how much he tried to fight it with cold logic, the quieter voice in his mind kept whispering an undertone of things about how he shouldn't have to think like this; he shouldn't have to be this way if he didn't want to. It was that voice he kept trying to get to shut up, because he had everything a boy could want and had no right to think badly about his life.
He didn't know how long he stood there, silently wrestling with himself until he was able to make the tears go away without spilling. So long that he was afraid Aubren might come out and find him like this, at least. The thought of facing her now almost drove him to crying again, but he managed to clamp it down just enough to straighten and make his shaky legs carry him away from the library. Crying and pitying was for the weak, he finally managed to convince himself as the fight for breath subsided and he could get a lungful of air again. Yeah, he'd done the right thing. He'd just try not to think about it again for as long as he lived.
Reducio
Exeunt Max, thread ended
"There’s something brittle in me that will break before it bends."
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8