Wabbit Season~ PV Levi Drakos Closed

Selim Text Color: #4d0f25
Aku Text Color: #614f6d

"The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream." - William Shakespeare

Selim meandered through the corridors of the castle, the food he swiped from his house's table for dinner in his hand. The steamed pork bun was clutched gingerly in a napkin, aroma reaching him even behind his leather rabbit mask. The mask in question was propped up slightly so he could actually put the food in his mouth.

At his heels trotted Kioshi, the feline not deeming it necessary to whine for bits of the food because his owner often did so without him having to ask. So instead the feline walked alongside him, patiently waiting for the last scraps of the pork that would inevitably be saved for him.

The rabbit-centric Slytherin paused glancing up from where he was, the furthest he could be from the center of the corridor. Idly watching some stragglers pass by towards the dining hall. He wondered if they had pulled some sort of prank going by their snickering and hushed tones as they disappeared around a bend in the hallway.

Taking one more bite he pulled his mask down all the way, hiding his pale lips that were tugged at by some hidden scar that lingered behind the visage of a white hare.

Shifting Selim squatted down, the napkin with the expected last bits of pork gently clutched in Aku's mouth. reaching out a slim, boney hand he held it just above his feline's head, and without a word spoken the cat reared up on his hind legs to rub his cheek against the palm.

A smile unseen gently tugged at the solitary boy's mouth, and lowering his puppet-clad hand he placed the napkin holding the pork bits on the ground. It gently fluttered open, revealing the tantalizing morsels. The charcoal feline padded forwarned, crouching and lapping up the treat.

The boy's cloak shrouded most of his frame, usually, the school mandatory garment was reserved for winters, but Selim was always cold, so it made no difference to him. It hid most of his appearance from view, (which was a bonus) and was in that way rather comforting. His mask was his own version of a security blanket at this point, and he still didn't often wear shoes because he had gotten far too used to not having any at this point. The bandages around the sols of his feet were about the most he'd do to cover them up. Maybe that would change come winter though.

A tickle rose in his throat, and a harsh cough exited his mouth, muffled yet amplified by his mask. The boy doubled over slightly as his lungs tried to get rid of something that had long since left his system by now. Despite that fact his mind never forgot the feeling of some poisonous vapor coiling through his mouth and nose, slowly suffocating him while he was trapped in a dark, enclosed space.

The cough never left after that day, it became chronic, and the only reasoning the boy could give was that the event that triggered it was the last straw after his weakened immune system suffered the sicknesses he bore from his solitude and unhealthy habits. It was practically engraved in his mind after he gained some other ailment of the lungs that year, and one could explain it away as some warped version on a tic. Either way, the boy was sure it became an ailment of the mind, born from the strain on his lungs.

At least he didn't cough up blood anymore.

After the fit ended the third year blinked the tears from his eyes that had come from the pain of the cough, and stood after grabbing the napkin and stuffing it in some hidden pocket. Clearing his hoars through he continued his trek towards the dungeons, mind buzzing lightly from his lack of sleep. A few paintings eyed him as he passed, but no longer did they gain any surprise from the familiar presences of the rabbit-mask-clad student, only glancing away impassively after their first glance.

Kioshi followed behind as they both traversed the shadows of the eerily emptied corridors.