Once Lost Fin.

@Evelynn Decipio

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	Evelynn's grief had been bound down for too long, though the ghost of it still haunted her subconscious. Echoes of regret convinced her to take blame, critique her inability to prevent disaster, bearing the burden rather than releasing it. Pericles had caught fleeting hints that something was off. He remembered the way she caved to criticism during their duel, recalled her watchfulness during the club trail ride, harsh with herself yet driven to protect her peers. That letter fell into his hands like a missing piece that put the entire puzzle into perspective. Eve was brave, as he'd always known her to be, but her guardian nature wasn't only on account of honor. The fear of losing anyone else had been a driving force in her life lately. And like the nosy sleuth he couldn't help but be, Pericles hadn't let up in his pursuit of the truth until he had answers. Merlin, he felt awful about making her cry. So it came to pass that Evelynn was taking a turn on the other end of being the one in need. This time, she would be on the receiving side of an awkward attempt at a comforting hug, along with the occasional sympathetic squeeze to her shoulders. The Ravenclaw didn't speak nor try to shush her. He endeavored to create a shelter, both with the anti-eavesdropping spell and a warm arm against the elements. They were two sides of a coin, it seemed, as he swapped from sleuth to comforter effortlessly. They'd both been hardened by the grim catastrophes of Hogwarts. Most students didn't discuss it, but then, it was unlikely many of them were familiar with the term "trauma-bonding". The majority learned to rely on one another more than they did the adults, which certainly hadn't helped Eve. She blamed herself because she'd been conditioned to hold herself at such high standards. At least in that moment, she didn't need to be exceptional; it seemed like all Eve really needed was a good cry. Pericles sat up in the snow as her sobs dwindled off into recovering gasps. He blinked the water from his eyes as she turned to face him, posture slouched and expression gentle. When she mentioned the letter, he picked it up immediately, brushing at its dampened corner. It was offered as she asked for his discretion. Peri complied with a deftly traced X over the back of his right wrist, as if committing to an Unbreakable Vow, and murmured a solemn "Never." Sharing this encounter was the furthest thing from his mind in that moment. He pushed himself to stand, then offered her a hand up, pressing the folded paper into her palm if she took it. "You know... we could still set it on fire, if it would make you feel better." His mouth twitched with a failed go at a smile.
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"Thank you," she breathed, her whispered gratitude weighted despite the quiet of its uttering. Solace coming both with having the note back securely in her own grasp as well as with the cross drawn onto the back of Pericles' wrist. Only a little bit. But solace nonetheless. Never was a long time. Unrealistic, in truth. There was something a bit childish in the way that he had promised his silence both in word and deed, but somehow that only seemed to ensure its credibility. No doubt expressed itself upon her countenance, only a slight nod as though to seal the vow in stone.

When he rose, the warmth went with him, leaving Evelynn with a very brief but unquestionable sensation of isolation. Her gaze followed him only so far as it could go without her having to lift her chin, leaving it to rest on the hand that extended towards her. There it lingered for a moment, just as it had when he'd helped her to rise from the roots of the tree before. She wasn't certain if she was ready to stand. But it was dark, and likely past curfew, and she got the distinct impression that he wouldn't be leaving until she did. She was also quite certain that her legs did not carry the strength enough to fight gravity on their own. If she didn't accept the offer now, she was liable to remained tethered to the snow until morning.

With a heavy sigh, she reluctantly accepted his help, requiring a moment for the circulation to catch up and return full feeling and function back into her lower limbs. At his suggestion, she looked down to the folded letter in her hands, brows creased. "How were you even certain that I was the one that had written this?" She understood being able to make the connection between it and her hasty departure, but it was something of a gamble to put the plans he had developed into motion on a belief. What if it had belonged to another? After all, she hadn't included any names. Not even Ivy's. And she doubted he was so familiar with her writing.

@Evelynn Decipio

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	Perhaps promises came easier to the young, but for Pericles, it was an easy vow to make. He had no motivation to share her grief with anyone at all. Who would he tell, and why, for that matter? No, this secret's only use was to be kept. The heir was well familiar with the difficulties of being vulnerable around others, so this wasn't an encounter to be taken for granted. Discretion would protect her pride, and if it regained him a nugget of trust in the process, all the better. His smile was laced with the warmth of genuineness when thanked. Eve was right in assuming that Peri wasn't leaving without her. Once set on something, he was nothing if not dedicated, and she had yet to say anything along the lines of Get lost. He was satisfied to stick around, hauling her to her feet one more time. His hand gave hers a reassuring squeeze- fleeting enough to go unnoticed- before sliding away. The letter was left in its place. Pericles curled his fists deep into his coat pockets, resisting the urge to shiver from dampened pantlegs. The tranquil expression he wore implied he had nowhere better to be than here. It didn't so much as flinch when Eve asked how he'd traced her as the author, and he answered again with that blunt promptness, truthful and direct: "It was the way you looked when you left. That, and your handwriting, from when we were in the Headliner together. Sometimes I'd read others' drafts before they made it to print." The ghostly guy made a strange teenager. He was utterly lost when it came to the common grapevine, hardly keeping track of who was on which sports team, or who was dating who. But he was always keen on memorizing faces, names, handwriting and other odd factoids. He went on to casually admit, "I liked your advice columns, and the way you wrote your 'E's. You signed the letter with one." Peri nodded at the paper in her hand, omitting the fact that Eve had also mentioned playing Quidditch with the person it was written to. He drew breath, on the verge of asking who it was intended for, but narrowly resisted. He'd already pried this far, no need to expose her loss any more than he already had. The Ravenclaw then considered asking why she'd agreed to meet with him, but ultimately knew better. She had trusted him enough to see what he was being so secretive about, and he'd essentially ambushed her with the truth, even if it was with good intentions. In the end, he settled for saying: "I'm glad you came."
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Her handwriting. He recognized her scroll. Evelynn would have to remember that in future. Not that she had any plans to write anonymously to him as she had done others in the past, but still. Something to keep in mind. "I was not aware.." she murmured, resigning herself to the fact that tonight, at least, she seemed to be out-maneuvered at every turn. As much as she didn't want to, Pericles' explanation prompted her to unfold the letter, noting how the balled up crinkled mess she'd left it in had been smoothed out and carefully pleated.

The inked lines drew her gaze. Most were smudged now to some degree or other. The last part of it in particular, where a blob of ink had expanded from her quill touching the paper for too long when she had found herself incapable of continuing with the errand. The way she wrote her E's. But her brows creased at the mention of having signed the letter.

"I left no signature..." Her denial tapered off almost to silence before it finished leaving her lips, as she realized what he had meant. The final legible letter on the page was an 'E'. It wasn't a signature, however, but the unfinished sentiments that had been left to swirl in an abandoned inkwell. What she had been in the process of writing before nerve faltered was, "Especially today."

That mattered little now, and she left his expression of appreciation unaddressed, still salty about having been mislead. Fingers loosening, she allowed the letter to slip from her grasp and fall to fall like a leaf on autumn's breath to the snowy carpet below. Melancholy befell her features again, fatigue settling in the wake of emotional recession. With methodical movement, she loosed the black polished walnut wand from the bracer in which it had been loaded. No hesitation preceded its directing towards the ground where the letter had fallen.

"Incendio." A spark flew from its tip to land on the parchment, smoking there for but a moment before engulfing the piece in flame. Its consumption was almost instantaneous. Perhaps even anti-climactic in that regard, but that suite the lioness just fine. She lethargically moved her boot to cover any ash or residual evidence with snow, shifting her weight forward to pat it down.

"It is late.." Her muted comment was meant less as an observation of the time and more a suggestion that they should probably head back. Before she had turned completely, though, she paused. Trapped within her own bubble of sorrow, her perception had been previously turned inward. Now, ready to turn in for the night and pretend it had been nothing more than a horrible dream, awareness had begun to expand beyond the self. The state of Pericles' clothing had given her pause. Lips crimped, a guilt of another sort scratching at the door. A quietly murmured "Aer calidus" later and his pantlegs would deny they'd felt the touch of melted snow.

Her gaze lingered on them a moment longer before going the way of her initial intent. Wand slipped back away into its spot in the spring-loaded bracer up her sleeve, and she turned towards the castle. She didn't know what more to say. Or to think. A heavy fog had settled over her mind, numbing it in a protective embrace and coaxing her back to her dorm. For once, the idea of sleep actually sounded appealing, and perhaps she might even find it restful. She was tired. Her limbs felt heavy. Lids drooped as lethargy took her by the hand.

@Evelynn Decipio

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	Pericles only offered a shrug, as if his habit of committing penmanship to memory was as inconsequential as the underlying compliment. On hearing that closing "E" wasn't a signature, on the other hand, his eyebrows arched in surprise. "Oh..." was all he said aloud, though his thoughts went further. It was a fortunate misunderstanding, then, that his misguided interpretation led him on the right path after all. He wondered what she would have written next, what that E was leading to, and thankfully wouldn't need to put the question to words. He'd already seen more than he was meant to, but Eve indulged him all the same. Especially today. Failing to tactfully withhold this time, the boy basically blurted: "What was today?" Pericles stood still across from Eve as the letter landed in the snow. Once it ignited, hues of orange reflected in the snow and his hair, making hers all the redder. He watched the parchment smolder, then glanced up to eye her covertly. A go was made at pinning what she was thinking. There was a torpor to her, evident exhaustion, no doubt the result of lugging around the great weight of guilt and grief for as long as she had. Few things were quite so draining as a good cry. If nothing else, he imagined she would at least experience an exceptionally deep sleep. As if on queue, she mentioned the late hour, and Peri had enough experience with social niceties to know this was the start of a goodbye. "Right. Let's turn in." Before the Ravenclaw could move to gather his things, the Gryffindor did him the courtesy of casting a Hot Air Charm. He instinctively closed his eyes and crinkled his nose, shuddered the clinging cold from his muscles, and heaved a soundless sigh as the warmth sunk in. It helped to melt some of the numbness of his thoughts, alleviating the distracting discomfort. "Thanks, Eve," Peri murmured with a spent smile. He took a step back towards the tree, though motioned towards the school, encouraging "You go on ahead. I'll fly home, this time."
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Of the query of what day it was, Evelynn did not respond, instead allowing the quesiton to hang unanswered in the crisp air. Despite everything that had already been revealed to her peer, somehow giving that seemed too personal. Although she couldn't quite understand why. It wasn't as though it were particularly important. It was just a day—like any other. It wasn't as though it had held any particular meaning to her for most of her time at Hogwarts. There had never been a celebration. Most years, it had gone unnoticed and Evelynn hadn't minded one way or the other. She wanted to believe she didn't mind now. But given the way she had been driven to penmanship and the presence of confectionary, perhaps that wasn't strictly true. Maybe it had become something more sacred, Ivy having been the one who insisted on its acknowledgement. Even that had only been for a single year, though, not having developed any sort of yearly tradition to be missed.

With that in mind, the witch had nearly been prompted to answer, if for no other reason than to prove to herself that it didn't matter. Lips had even parted in preparation, delayed as the response might have been. Ultimately, she held her silence, an unseen force staying her tongue. There wasn't any point to say, she decided. That sort of knowledge, from her experience, came with an unspoken—or occasionally loudly advertised—expectation to receive attention or gifts. Neither of those appealed to her, but based on what she knew of Pericles, his sense of propriety would compel him to wish her glad tidings. A hollow sentiment given the circumstances. She had no desire to place any such burden upon him. Or to suffer herself its receipt.

These were the thoughts that had weighed behind the blank stare as the flames danced between them. And so she simply shook her head with a muttered, "it is of no consequence," and tried to offer a reassuring smile. It died before it even began. The mask was slipping back into place now, made easier by her weariness. When Pericles stepped back, suggesting he would take to the skies, Evelynn paused in her retreat and turned her gaze heavenward with little more than a, "mn." Rather than continue her trek back towards the castle, she waited. Nothing further would be spoken, nor would she return her sights back to the ghostly boy, but her presence would remain all the same, silently waiting for him to collect his things and take to the skies. For a fleeting moment, envy brushed her thoughts. It had been a while since she'd felt the wind in her hair, the freedom of weightlessness. Then again, it had been a while since she felt any joy in that notion. She still didn't, she realized.

Only once the Eagle had taken flight would she break her statuesque stance, chest rising and falling with a prolonged breath that misted the air in front of her. Snow would crunch underfoot as she pushed off, unhurried in her slog back to her dorm.

@Evelynn Decipio

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	With Pericles, a non-answer was answer enough. The Ravenclaw was tirelessly perceiving, weighing the words in Eve's letter, the way she hesitated when asked for clarification, her denial in the end. Even that smile seemed evasive. She wouldn't have mentioned it without reason, though it was a reason she wasn't willing to divulge. He accepted this for the time being, saying nothing more on the matter, but not necessarily letting it go. She had wished her friend was with her. He felt horrible for her, and worse still for the one she had loved and lost. A combination of factors had driven his actions all evening: empathy for Eve, pity for the fallen, a morbid fascination with death, a propensity for rituals. When Pericles returned to his things, this culmination inspired him to see the intent through. He stooped in the snow and scooped up the lantern, considering it with a faint frown before rummaging out an antique compact lighter. A tiny flame flickered to life with a satisfying click of the mechanism. Peri used it to light the tea candle cradled in the wire, waited for its heat to take, and muttered something beneath his breath before setting it free. The glowing parchment drifted down the hillside, then bobbed upwards. He sat on his haunches, watching it for a minute or so, never minding the fact that he hadn't heard his company's footsteps retreat towards the building. As it found a gentle breeze and drifted out over the lake, he resumed his height and heaved a deep sigh, watching the warmth come and go as a fleeting puff of fog. Lighter stowed, satchel latched, Pericles cast a glance over his shoulder. "Goodnight, Eve," he called across the distance between them. A last sleepy smile and the boy transformed, trading cloak for feathers once more. The eagle ruffled its wings, gave an experimental flap, then launched itself into the air. Its talons kicked up snow that caught the moonlight in a spray of silver. Once he'd gained momentum, he glided a half-circle around the lantern, sending it in a lazy spin before righting itself again. The bird then swooped in to snag his bag by the handle, wings beating against the air to gain altitude. Back to a Common Room window left open a crack, and in the morning, back to routine. Classes, meals, tedium in between. His thoughts strayed to the night before from time to time, and Pericles would not be content until he did something about the lingering sense that something had gone forgotten. In the stretch of free time between classes and dinner, Evelynn would be visited by an owl. It delivered two small parcels from the Hogsmeade tea shop: one waxed cardboard container with a single serving of Madam Puddifoot's Fancy Cake, and a standard box of black tea. The note attached read simply: For an inconsequential day. -P
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Exit