9 Mar 2021, 13:18
Paddle Like Hell
Hexcode= #507091
In every life there are ups and downs. Moments of clarity come for those who seek them, but what fortune favors you today might favor your enemies tomorrow. A slight breeze was all that accompanied the Ravenclaw prefect as he made his way towards the Castle, mind weighed down with the burden of being alone. What was meant to be a short stroll on a Sunday afternoon to kick the feelings had somehow transmogrified into a long trek alone with his thoughts. It would be tough to admit that sometimes his own feelings controlled more of him than he did, but that was youth. Learning how to keep calm on the surface while you paddled like hell underneath.
There was no momentous occasion spurring his thoughts nor any strictly dangerous struggle he found himself coming to grips with. Instead it was the familiar tug of war one played with their own self image. Was he a good person? Were there any good people? What did a good person behave like? Did they follow all the rules? Did they play only after their homework? Did they take long mopey walks whilst kicking stones about? He had once thought his adoptive mothers to be good people, but one crack in his rose-tinted glasses quickly revealed that he did not belong with them. Even after all they'd been through together, he had been given up as quickly as one might toss a bit of rubbish in the bin.
Still, some silver lining had shown through. Light in the form of lost family recently rediscovered illuminated the darkest depths of his mind and caused them to dissipate like illusions when exposed to truth. Instead of coming to terms with Rose and Gracie, Sylvain would bargain with whatever powers existed to let the opposite be true of his Uncle. He wanted a sense of belonging, and wanted it so desperately he would do just about anything to find his place in this world. A world to which he already belonged but still sorely misunderstood. His own thoughts causing him to shudder, he was thankful to have some optimistic hope still belonging to him. There was plenty enough for him to still be thankful for.
His grades were steadily improving, the tell-tale sign of his hard work, studying, and paying attention in class providing greater-than-average dividends. His new role as quidditch captain had, despite some initial discomfort, handily taught him the earnest lessons of being coachable and committing to cooperative teamwork. Between all the accomplishments he had going for him and the calm that remained on the surface, some sinking feeling was absolutely still present beneath it all. Without that sinking feeling, he would have already given up. Musing to himself as he kicked a loose rock along the path absentmindedly, Sylvain's plaything landed right in front of the feet belonging to someone not all that unfamiliar, but so far unacquainted.
"Sorry for that," he said in earnest apology. "Was minding my own business, honest. I didn't mean to bother you." Something clearly troubled his foggy mind, as present in his eyes. The lanky prefect stooped to pick the rock up in a fluid motion with his apology. Rising to his full height, messy hair caught in the wind like a loose bit of dandelion fluff, he then looked up to the Slytherin Prefect before hucking the stone as deep into the woods as he could. It was an honest attempt to rid himself of the troublesome bit of sediment. "M'name's Sylvain. Apologies again to have bothered you, I'll get out of your way."
@Thomas LeStrange
"Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." -Elim Garak
20 Apr 2021, 19:42
Paddle Like Hell
Lestrange’s inhibitions have left him cold at a distant glance. A preconceived idea sprouts toxic vines in the recess of his mind. A collective understanding, stable unwavering opinions of others that share the same light. Even if the shovel Lestrange yields was sharpened or motorized, there would always be those standing over him, gently pouring the dirt he has removed back over his head and walking away.
Those people, they, them-- to hold others responsible for where he stood added another layer to traverse. A locked door in this pit of dirt with no key. No amount of action can help a boy to overcome the issues that are sourced within. A human trait, to think a change of scenery, profession, or company could be an ample solution to our marred happiness. The demons may fade for some time, lurking in the shadows. A trick our mind will play, temporary disillusions until we feel grasp of veracity. A lesson we all must learn, but some never do.
Whether the eyes of his peers held pity, sorrow, or disdain, the constant was their aversion. A lie based on the emotions Thomas simply held for himself. The acquisition of power, a prefect, a writer, temporary satisfactions, like a tranquilized dart it offered a temporary feeling. Putting to bed these ill connotations the boy held for himself for some time, but they always wake up again. Fading, then circulating, a maze he would look to solve, looking in every direction except the one he needed to escape.
The routes he chose subconsciously, to look for the source of a problem in every direction, except the one he needs to. Through all his chosen distractions, Thomas has made no rounds in true growth. Sure, writing skills have developed, his leadership qualities honed, but as a person Thomas remained unchanged. The same boy that looked into the eyes of an old crone and vowed his allegiance.
A redeeming sidestep of flight may lead Thomas closer to his peace, no longer a willing puppet. Evading the eyes of his superiors, but still left with a series of painful reminders. A mark that ailed from time to time, and his permanently tarnished reflection. The boy was wary to wander too closely to the lake where it all began, only a watchful eye from afar.
The aforementioned pattern has reached a point of reflection, Thomas left to contemplate his present state. His toxic mindset remained unchanged, and fear for the day he was called to serve dictated his actions. The kind of day any distraction was welcomed, to peel his mind away from what’s to become of him. And one arrived in the form of a rook that skittered across the grass before landing near Lestrange’s black set of boots.
Blue eyes left peering downward for a moment, before a slow scan left them scanning the direction it came, traveling upward to see a face of mild familiarity. Thomas recognized the pair of blue eyes with a greenish tint at their exterior in the prefects’ room from time to time. Sylvain’s contemplative gaze slowly transitioned to remorseful with the spot of bother he provided.
Thomas shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand, the temporary escape from his mind was a welcomed direction. Even if he intended to carry on without a spoken word, his unchanged expression followed the boy as he leaned down to grasp the rock and hurl it near the woodline in unison with an unneeded apology. Thomas stared at the prefect opposite him for a moment, leaning down to pick up a different rock, eyes scanning it delicately, allowing his fingers to feel the edges.
He held the rock out between them, eyes peering back up to Sylvain. “Why throw the rock, if there’s just another to take its place?” As he finished speaking, Thomas tossed the rock for the boy to catch if he chose to, otherwise it would just skip along the grass beneath his feet. “And now that you have…” Bothered me “What next?”
Those people, they, them-- to hold others responsible for where he stood added another layer to traverse. A locked door in this pit of dirt with no key. No amount of action can help a boy to overcome the issues that are sourced within. A human trait, to think a change of scenery, profession, or company could be an ample solution to our marred happiness. The demons may fade for some time, lurking in the shadows. A trick our mind will play, temporary disillusions until we feel grasp of veracity. A lesson we all must learn, but some never do.
Whether the eyes of his peers held pity, sorrow, or disdain, the constant was their aversion. A lie based on the emotions Thomas simply held for himself. The acquisition of power, a prefect, a writer, temporary satisfactions, like a tranquilized dart it offered a temporary feeling. Putting to bed these ill connotations the boy held for himself for some time, but they always wake up again. Fading, then circulating, a maze he would look to solve, looking in every direction except the one he needed to escape.
The routes he chose subconsciously, to look for the source of a problem in every direction, except the one he needs to. Through all his chosen distractions, Thomas has made no rounds in true growth. Sure, writing skills have developed, his leadership qualities honed, but as a person Thomas remained unchanged. The same boy that looked into the eyes of an old crone and vowed his allegiance.
A redeeming sidestep of flight may lead Thomas closer to his peace, no longer a willing puppet. Evading the eyes of his superiors, but still left with a series of painful reminders. A mark that ailed from time to time, and his permanently tarnished reflection. The boy was wary to wander too closely to the lake where it all began, only a watchful eye from afar.
The aforementioned pattern has reached a point of reflection, Thomas left to contemplate his present state. His toxic mindset remained unchanged, and fear for the day he was called to serve dictated his actions. The kind of day any distraction was welcomed, to peel his mind away from what’s to become of him. And one arrived in the form of a rook that skittered across the grass before landing near Lestrange’s black set of boots.
Blue eyes left peering downward for a moment, before a slow scan left them scanning the direction it came, traveling upward to see a face of mild familiarity. Thomas recognized the pair of blue eyes with a greenish tint at their exterior in the prefects’ room from time to time. Sylvain’s contemplative gaze slowly transitioned to remorseful with the spot of bother he provided.
Thomas shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand, the temporary escape from his mind was a welcomed direction. Even if he intended to carry on without a spoken word, his unchanged expression followed the boy as he leaned down to grasp the rock and hurl it near the woodline in unison with an unneeded apology. Thomas stared at the prefect opposite him for a moment, leaning down to pick up a different rock, eyes scanning it delicately, allowing his fingers to feel the edges.
He held the rock out between them, eyes peering back up to Sylvain. “Why throw the rock, if there’s just another to take its place?” As he finished speaking, Thomas tossed the rock for the boy to catch if he chose to, otherwise it would just skip along the grass beneath his feet. “And now that you have…” Bothered me “What next?”
@Sylvain Wyllt
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
22 Apr 2021, 14:45
Paddle Like Hell
Hexcode= #507091
Catching the rock, albeit awkwardly fumbling in the process of doing so, Sylvain felt its weight in the palm of his hand. Sedimentary in nature, a pinkish-rusty streak running through the heart of its stratified composition hinted that it likely contained trace amounts of the element iron. It was a good rock for tossing into the woods. Much better than the first one he'd loosed without second thought, and likely better suited to the task than the one that would follow it.
L0oking at the stone while contemplating its existence, Sylvain seemingly ignored the questions of the boy he'd, apologetically, bumped into. Out of all the thoughts swimming in his mind, the most profound was likely the idea that the next rock that took this one's place would never be the same as the one that he had sent flying into the woods a moment ago. In fact, a lot like fires in Hogwarts, or obstacles in life, the only thing he could count on was that they would never be exactly like another. That each was distinct in appearance, composition, and location was probably enough to ponder for another hour, but that Thomas had chosen this one for him to toss was why he was going to throw it.
Thus, Sylvain supposed that it was nice just to get his mind off his own problems. That throwing rocks felt like getting rid of a burden, or overcoming an obstacle was relieving in and of itself. Dependent upon his aim, the velocity of the toss, or the trajectory of the rock's lob, the bit of sediment had served him in one way or another. Whether to strengthen him for the next rock that came his way, or to relieve him of the burden of thought. Even if only a little was learned from throwing it, the information was irreplaceable and unreplicable. Even if only a moment passed by without self-awareness, that was something to be thankful for.
So if throwing rocks made him feel better and didn't hurt anyone, then why not? Maybe Thomas felt the same way as he did, and perhaps he should ask. "Why not?" he said giving the plump stone a tiny toss into the air before continuing on. "It represents a unique opportunity to test myself, as well as a chance to enjoy the simplicity of attempting to toss it as far as I can." Sure, he would not admit to a near stranger how it also helped to relieve him of troublesome worrying, but then again, that feeling was an ordinary thing to withhold wasn't it?
Tossing the second rock, this time beyond the treeline instead of just the edge of the perilous wood, Sylvain would sit down on his legs, and invite Thomas to sit next to him with a firm pat on the patch of dirt between them. He rarely sat down to talk to strangers, but Thomas had asked a far more thoughtful question than he was used to answering. The other hand, not preoccupied by invitation, searched the grass nearby for another stone. This one metamorphic in composition as displayed by its inclusion of a small swirling helix on one of its sides, a strata of sedimentary enclosed by igneous walls. It would serve just as well , but perhaps presented a different opportunity than the last one. An opportunity that Thomas could decide to act on if he wanted.
Reaching out, Sylvain would then attempt to hand Thomas the newest of the rock trio. Whether the boy took it or not, Sylvain's hand would return to his lap. His legs criss-crossed for comfort as he sits on the ground, He would pay attention to see just how far exactly Thomas would throw it, if he would throw it, and to what degree Thomas investigated the rock before discarding it. Perhaps to him, the details of its formation would be lost. Perhaps to him, the helix in the rock was evidence of pointless existence. Either way, it seemed that his lingering question should be answered, even if the answer was a more complex "I don't know."
"As for what's next?" He said, finally acknowledging Thomas's question. He gave a big shrug. "I can hardly tell you everything that is happening to us right now." He paused to see if his words registered, to see if Thomas accepted his ignorance of the future. "No matter what I say its unlikely to help anyone, but if you need to talk I can listen." Again, he would offer the stone as sacrifice. A pebble for his troubles. Just like rocks, life's obstacles were easier to get through once you let someone get close enough to help you dig through them, even if they both discovered something that should've stayed buried.
@Thomas Lestrange
"Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." -Elim Garak
24 Jun 2021, 01:53
Paddle Like Hell
The boy’s bistered mop danced in the wind from each periodical gust of wind, the only movement of an otherwise still head. Restful visage, typically lacking any signs of life in a still stare at the Ravenclaw. Why not? His blue eyes would narrow, slightly lifting one corner of his mouth into a settling half-smile. “Why not, indeed.” Thomas' head turned, eyes following the path of the rock his peer would hurl into the wind.
“Why not keep the rock, instead of throwing it?” His head returned to the front position, an open palm motioning to the grass beneath their feet. “It is special, after all. You chose it. Now let me choose mine.” He spoke softly, shaking his head in denial of the rock Syl offered. The compact smile faded with narrowing blue eyes, reaching inside his robe pocket to retrieve his wand. Wrapping the fingers of his left hand tightly around the wand’s base, he aimlessly pointed it towards the ground, closing his eyes in unison with a delicate turn of his wrist, rhythmically letting his hand wander from left to right.
Opening his eyes briefly, he scanned the various rocks that lay closest to their feet. Each one unique in shape, and sharpness. Some more weathered than others, some appearing shiny as if freshly rinsed. Thomas focused on the rock that he wanted, closing his eyes once more with a deep sigh. “Wingardium Leviosa.” Miraculously, whether you perceive it as luck or fate, the rock he visualized was the one to rise between him and the other boy. But that did not matter, whatever rock was to rise would receive the same level of recognition. A singular, unique object that was chosen.
Maintaining his focus, he opened his eyes and concentrated on the path of this rock. “Don’t touch it… let it fly.” It was not alive, or was it? The manipulation of an energy you cannot see made it so. For the moment, the rock appeared as alive as the two boys. “This is the one I chose.” If you did not see it, your missing aspect was believing. As it continued through the air elegantly rotating between them, Thomas lowered his wand and let it fall, reaching out with his other hand to catch it.
“If I throw it... it becomes just another rock. Which it is.” Everything is special until it's not. In this world, we get to decide what is what. All that is needed is a willingness to believe. But in order to believe, we have to let go. And in order to let go… “Don’t be silly. It’s just a fucking rock.” In one motion, Thomas wrapped his fingers around the rock, and hurled it towards the tree line with a smile.
Thomas reached out with an open hand to the boy that sat[if he remained to do so]. “We can’t stay here.” He provided no reasoning, motioning towards the shores of the black lake. “Join me.” If not evident, it was a contemplative day for the Slytherin boy. Often allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts. Though today began differently, a hunger lingered over his head. Not for waffles, but for something more. To wonder.
“You’re unhappy.” In response to the boy’s helpless declaration, carrying implications the value he offered did not possess the power to make a difference. “Maybe it is you that needs to talk.” He glanced over at the boy briefly, before picking up his pace towards the lake, walking past him by several feet. “So talk.”
ReducioCredit to No Country for Old Men for ideals used in this post.
@Sylvain Wyllt
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
19 Jul 2021, 20:32
Paddle Like Hell
Hexcode= #507091
As Thomas's rock was slung farther into the woods, Sylvain thought back to a few days earlier. To the attack on Ravenclaw dorms, and the burning of Vladimir's bed. In the heat of that fire, he discovered things he shouldn't have known but now did. In light of those discoveries, there was still some information that yet needed confirmation. Notes that could still be changed if one was willing to make the change needed. Deals made in the dark that if the right light were shed upon them might redeem those who'd forsaken life.
"Why not?" Sylvain said, quietly questioning Thomas's confident claim that they could not stay here. His gaze would follow the boy's hand as it obviated his desired destination. The lake. A dangerous place all things considered. "Join you in what?" Sylvain once more questioned, this time uncertain of the boy's intention. "Not interested in going for a swim if that's what you had in mind." He would gently bat the boy's hand away, instead relying on himself. The hand represented a path Thomas offered him in silence. A path more than likely to lead them to a destination both would regret having visited.
Standing on his own two feet, Sylvain would respond, "I am," confirming what the boy had observed. Sylvain was unhappy. Unhappy that someone meant to be a role model was leading people astray and displeased that his offer to be an empathetic ear had gone unconsidered. Still, the opportunity to speak up was rarely offered to Sylvain. Rarely enough that when he spoke up, others had a tendency to be put at ease. He would use this voice of his when Thomas called upon him, and not just for his own gain. He had decided he wasn't going to give up on Thomas just yet. Some part of him still wanted to give Thomas a chance to do the right thing first. The same offer Vlad should've gotten.
"I need a friend," Sylvain said bluntly. "Someone who won't betray my trust or let me go when the going gets tough." He could only hope that the boy felt the same, and although the other boy was taller and likely stronger too, he was definitely just as skilled in magic. "Someone who understands what's happening at Hogwarts." He said calmly. It was sufficient enough to say that trust was a two way street. One that you could only maintain if both lanes kept moving forward. "and in return I want to be somebody that you can trust," he spoke, calmly sweeping the hair out of his face. "Whatever it takes."
With a final gulp to clear the frog stuck in his throat, Sylvain confessed to Thomas what he had discovered. That there was, within reasonable doubt, proof of his involvement with the hags. That he was offering a chance to come clean, and that he would make sure to help Thomas make things right.
@Thomas Lestrange
"Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." -Elim Garak
25 Oct 2021, 16:30
Paddle Like Hell
Appears word has traveled on Thomas’ lake antics, leaving the other boy hesitant to engage in any field trip with Lestrange. As to be expected from the house that molds a sea of analytical minds. Thomas would only released an amused huff, turning his cheek slightly to the left so Sylvain would only see the corner of one eye. “Did your homework, did you?”
The words carried no hostility. On the contrary, it provided a sense of comfort. The Raven was not here to play him as so many have. To many, Thomas was no more than a pit of information. Having operated within a network of crones, many have tried and failed to pick his brain on the subject.
Wyltt was not another snake in disguise. They come in all colors, from all houses. Though there was a sadness that lurked, a pain lingering behind those eyes. It was clear he was not here to exploit Thomas, or use him. He was just another boy looking for something to hold onto when he loses the power to do so himself.
Despite a penchant for deception, honesty was a quality Thomas held above all else. For the moment, Syl has earned his ear. ”If I understood the nature of my demons, I’d have left them long ago.” Thomas paused, allowing Sylvain a moment to process he was just as lost. ”I cannot promise friendship, but I will hear you.”
Sometimes all we need is a friend, an ear. A silent acknowledgement of our hardships. In biased agreement of how we were wronged. Yet wanting a friend, and needing a friend provide subtle differences. Wyltt elected the word need. To imply his craving was not of leisure, but of adversity. A place Thomas Lestrange was all too familiar.
Though beneath this search for friendly support lie strength. Leaving Thomas still, eyes wandered along the ripples in a daze. He did not have the strength to do it himself, to ask for help, seeking guidance for his personal perils. Devoid of trust, made insecure by his warped self-perception. Simply asking for help would go a very long way, but he did not possess the strength to do so.
Self-reflection was a recipe of heightened emotions, hence the active choice to neglect. In this moment, the liquid behind his eyes welled up, leaving them puffy, threatening a drop. Yes, just like that. Though Thomas would not turn away in shame, electing to remain still and exposed for the Ravenclaw boy to analyze. ”Still, I insist we move back towards the castle. It’s not wise to linger here. They have no jurisdiction.”
@Sylvain Wyllt
The words carried no hostility. On the contrary, it provided a sense of comfort. The Raven was not here to play him as so many have. To many, Thomas was no more than a pit of information. Having operated within a network of crones, many have tried and failed to pick his brain on the subject.
Wyltt was not another snake in disguise. They come in all colors, from all houses. Though there was a sadness that lurked, a pain lingering behind those eyes. It was clear he was not here to exploit Thomas, or use him. He was just another boy looking for something to hold onto when he loses the power to do so himself.
Despite a penchant for deception, honesty was a quality Thomas held above all else. For the moment, Syl has earned his ear. ”If I understood the nature of my demons, I’d have left them long ago.” Thomas paused, allowing Sylvain a moment to process he was just as lost. ”I cannot promise friendship, but I will hear you.”
Sometimes all we need is a friend, an ear. A silent acknowledgement of our hardships. In biased agreement of how we were wronged. Yet wanting a friend, and needing a friend provide subtle differences. Wyltt elected the word need. To imply his craving was not of leisure, but of adversity. A place Thomas Lestrange was all too familiar.
Though beneath this search for friendly support lie strength. Leaving Thomas still, eyes wandered along the ripples in a daze. He did not have the strength to do it himself, to ask for help, seeking guidance for his personal perils. Devoid of trust, made insecure by his warped self-perception. Simply asking for help would go a very long way, but he did not possess the strength to do so.
Self-reflection was a recipe of heightened emotions, hence the active choice to neglect. In this moment, the liquid behind his eyes welled up, leaving them puffy, threatening a drop. Yes, just like that. Though Thomas would not turn away in shame, electing to remain still and exposed for the Ravenclaw boy to analyze. ”Still, I insist we move back towards the castle. It’s not wise to linger here. They have no jurisdiction.”
@Sylvain Wyllt
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
26 Oct 2021, 16:50
Paddle Like Hell
Hexcode= #507091
“Did your homework, did you?”
Despite having done his homework this time around, there was the ever present sinking feeling that there would always be more homework than there would be the time to finish it all. It was hope that what little homework he had done would be what ultimately mattered in the end. He would simply nod in reply to Thomas's question. If Thomas thought him trustworthy enough to open up to then he wouldn't even think of judging him for being so withdrawn. He could only imagine the pain of this kind of solitude.
Although Syl had been shocked to learn what he had, it seemed important to hear Lestrange's own account of events. Though, "If I understood the nature of my demons, I’d have left them long ago.” was a less than satisfying answer, it was at least a good start. They were both fighting against a darkness they didn't fully understand. "I cannot promise friendship, but I will hear you.” Honesty was nice. Friendship could always come later, but a willingness to understand his own predicament was at least evident. How should he communicate that this was a step in the right direction?
"Have you any idea where to start looking for answers then?" The library would be the first place Sylvain's thought first turned to. His home within home while away from home, the shelves. Thomas's face would change in between Syl's thinking of the question and his speaking it aloud however. Eyes puffy and beginning to well up with tears, Sylvain's first reaction would be to offer him comfort, extending both arms out to hug the boy before him. "You're okay," he reassured him before heeding his wish to get out of the open. "After you then," Sylvain said politely whilst gesturing towards the castle they both called home.
"I was thinking we could search the library, the Librarian has always answered the majority of my own questions, and I think they might be able to answer yours." One thing still bothered him though. "What do you mean by jurisdiction exactly?" Was it like the hags in the forbidden forest? Did they have some sort of home beneath the lake or was there something more sinister happening on the grounds? "Are they watching us right now?" If so, there were a few things he would like to let them know.
@Thomas Lestrange
"Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." -Elim Garak
1 Nov 2021, 18:41
Paddle Like Hell
The physical touch of another was not a place of comfort for Thomas. Though if the boy arrested the walls and subconscious defensive mechanisms that keep others at arm’s length, he may yet feel the endearing embrace as it’s meant to be. Resigning that tremble of fear was not easy, it would only come from a place of trust.
Sylvain had not earned his trust, no fault of his. Simply not enough time and experience has passed between the boys to create any notion of trust between. Yet, Sylvain had a quiet compassion in his way of comfort. Thomas could almost see past his eyes and into his soul in this moment, and the place from which he approached. He was here to help.
Regardless, a resignation of defense already initiated earlier this morning. Thomas was weak, craving an outlet. Any sense of escape would offer comfort, departing from his resistance to a helping hand. Though simple at a distance glance, this moment carried power for Thomas Lestrange, freeing him from years of constraint.
Allowing Sylvain to preform the embrace, Thomas stood there not equally engaged, but receptive of the boy’s intentions. Arms hanging by his side, unmoved and allowing his eyes to fall towards the ground. “You need a hug.”, what an understatement for the fourteen year old Slytherin.
Albeit brief, ”Okay okay, off… please.” There he is, a return to reality. Thomas would not acknowledge the act any further than receiving it. Which, for Sylvain, may be an unsatisfying result. But he would only need peer over at the transformation of Thomas’ expression. Easing body tension, loosened jaw and rejuvenated eyes. Whether he would recognize it or not, this moment carried immense value.
Short lived, as his visage reverted to the norm when the topic was shifted back towards the crones. ”No place is too far from their reach, I mean. They very well could be. I try not to stay in one place too long.” Whispers travel fast, spies lurk around each tree, and Thomas himself provided a link to his mind with the brand on his left tricep.
”I don’t think the library has the answers, but we could try, if you’re willing to lead. Maybe it was his face, but Thomas wasn’t quite an expert at gaining a stranger’s favor. Often too forward or snide to draw any willing source. Sylvain’s demeanor provided a sense of comfort, perhaps he was the right one for this job.
@Sylvain Wyllt
Sylvain had not earned his trust, no fault of his. Simply not enough time and experience has passed between the boys to create any notion of trust between. Yet, Sylvain had a quiet compassion in his way of comfort. Thomas could almost see past his eyes and into his soul in this moment, and the place from which he approached. He was here to help.
Regardless, a resignation of defense already initiated earlier this morning. Thomas was weak, craving an outlet. Any sense of escape would offer comfort, departing from his resistance to a helping hand. Though simple at a distance glance, this moment carried power for Thomas Lestrange, freeing him from years of constraint.
Allowing Sylvain to preform the embrace, Thomas stood there not equally engaged, but receptive of the boy’s intentions. Arms hanging by his side, unmoved and allowing his eyes to fall towards the ground. “You need a hug.”, what an understatement for the fourteen year old Slytherin.
Albeit brief, ”Okay okay, off… please.” There he is, a return to reality. Thomas would not acknowledge the act any further than receiving it. Which, for Sylvain, may be an unsatisfying result. But he would only need peer over at the transformation of Thomas’ expression. Easing body tension, loosened jaw and rejuvenated eyes. Whether he would recognize it or not, this moment carried immense value.
Short lived, as his visage reverted to the norm when the topic was shifted back towards the crones. ”No place is too far from their reach, I mean. They very well could be. I try not to stay in one place too long.” Whispers travel fast, spies lurk around each tree, and Thomas himself provided a link to his mind with the brand on his left tricep.
”I don’t think the library has the answers, but we could try, if you’re willing to lead. Maybe it was his face, but Thomas wasn’t quite an expert at gaining a stranger’s favor. Often too forward or snide to draw any willing source. Sylvain’s demeanor provided a sense of comfort, perhaps he was the right one for this job.
@Sylvain Wyllt
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
27 Dec 2021, 13:20
Paddle Like Hell
Hexcode= #507091
"Sure, I know the way." Which was true not because leading came naturally to him, but rather in this case that his sense of direction would actually help light the path in front of them. "I beg to differ though, I find that there's very little a good book can't help with." Something the past couple years had taught him ad nauseum, and in this instance he had an idea for the exact text he wanted to share. Maybe Thomas had already read it, but then again perhaps not. Either way, it was a common starting point at worst and a chance to prove him wrong at best. Syl was more than willing to take those odds.
"I think we should start with [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=166&t=8603#p129243]Mothers of Evil."[/url] He would pause for breath, but when it came to sharing his sources, the boy was a natural and Thomas would be unlikely to get a word in edgewise unless he interrupted him. "There's also The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection to consider, and maybe we could even ask Professor Pendrast if she has the time to supervise us practicing Bluebell Flames..." He would ramble this way, seemingly projecting himself into the future with his musings using only a single a breath and willpower.
He would only really pause his rambling once they reached the entrance to the castle, where he would turn to face Thomas, open the door and smile slightly. He intended to leave no stone unturned in his search for answers. Which reminded him of a great saying he heard once. "What'd you say to getting out from under this rock?"
Exiting thread after leading you to the Library
@Thomas Lestrange
"Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." -Elim Garak