Hope and Pretense PV Evelynn Decipio

The midspring celebration was almost upon them. In but two short days, all of the whisperings and planning would come to a climax as young witches and wizards of all ages gathered in the Great Hall and courtyard to celebrate the turning of the seasons and waited with baited breath for the announcement of the various schools' champions for the upcoming Hexwizard Tournament. The halls were abuzz with speculation and gossip, hardly a word spared for anything other than the event at hand. Even Evelynn hadn't been spared getting caught up in the frenzy, and a little piece of information had come to her attention that could very well spare her a great deal of effort when it came time to readying herself on the eve of the festival. It was for this reason—to place a rush order for a certain enchanted comb—that she had made the trek to the owlery, an area she otherwise tended to avoid.

She had entered the drafty tower as she always did, heels of her riding boots clacking on stone well ahead of her appearance in the straw strewn room. Given the time of day, she still donned her school robes, the badges depicting her status as Gryffindor Prefect and Quidditch Captain polished and pinned primly to her lapels. Her wand was in her hand on entry, a peculiar detail, perhaps, given the circumstances; and especially given her own personal tendency to keep her wand well and out of sight unless needed. Per habit, she had conducted a careful scan of the area on arrival. She wasn't alone. A girl sat hunched on the ground, her head buried in her knees, arms wrapped tightly around them in what could not possibly be mistaken as anything other than distress.

Pausing midstride, Evelynn finished her scan, noting no others present. Part of her considered abandoning her initial plan, and leaving. Surely the girl had sought the owlery for a reason, perhaps finding it to be the only place suitably private.. Attention in such a vulnerable moment was hardly wanted. Or so she could only assume, anyway. She, at the very least, would not have wanted to be seen in such a state. Then again, neither would she have allowed even a remote chance of someone finding her. And on the other hand... she wasn't likely to get another chance to place her order and get the product in time for Saturday if she left now...

Thoughts and attention directed to the ground immediately before her for a moment, she decided to carry forward, slipping her wand back into the interior of the boot that housed its sheath as she did. She took the shortest path to an agreeable owl, attached a small pouch that jingled merrily with the sound of coin, and made no effort to conceal her presence. If anything, she pretended not to have noticed the other student at all, wanting to give the girl a chance to compose herself if she so wished. Besides, the more Evelynn considered the situation, the less she liked the idea of leaving the girl alone. It was one thing to take a trip to the owlery when one was in the full and right faculties. It was quite another to sit defenceless, vulnerable to assault and a repeat of what had happened in first year...

Steps on stone, the muted jingling of metal. It took a moment for the new sounds to register through the rustle of feathers around her, but when they did, Dealla's head snapped up. For a second, she struggled to locate the intruder to her moment of weakness, vision blurred still before it cleared. There seemed to be a fuzzy glow to everything, the light of the sinking sun refracted through the tears that she was blinking away, forming an odd sort of halo around auburn hair, a petite frame.

Dealla grimaced. She hadn't planned for anyone to walk in on her having a breakdown about her family. Of course, she also hadn't planned to have a breakdown in the first place - had pushed it away, down beneath layers of her busy life for months - or she would have picked a better place for it. She'd gone to the owlery for a bit of privacy, yes; a girl reading a letter would not stand out here, draw any attention. But you couldn't expect to be completely alone here. People did use the place to send letters, after all.

Evelynn was someone Dee would consider a friend, loosely, the way she considered most everyone she'd met who seemed mostly pleasant a friend. Not close, by any means, but someone she didn't mind talking to, or spending time with. In some ways, it was probably better to be found by someone like that than someone she was truly close to. Her friends read her too easily, even if she didn't want to talk, they would guess, they would worry. Many of them knew, at least in part, of the situation with her family, but not how hard her father's rejection was hitting her. Not because Dee had been lying about it, at least not to them. More to herself.

There was the option to leave, or to ignore Evelynn's presence. Pretend this hadn't happened, hope that Evelynn either did the same or hadn't looked closely enough to recognise her. But while Dee avoided things just fine as long as she hadn't admitted they existed, now that it was undeniable, running felt wrong. And thus, Dee decided to deal with the situation with her favourite way of approaching any confrontation: head-on.

With a sigh, Dee straightened up. She didn't make a move to hide the traces of tears on her face, there was no point. Evelynn was neither blind nor deaf - at least not to Dealla's knowledge - she would have noticed. A few steps carried her to the railing near the Gryffindor prefect, a metre or two from where Eve was readying an owl. "Hi," she said slowly, head tilted slightly, more tentative than she usually was. "Sorry about that... didn't mean for anyone to see me there."

@Evelynn Decipio

To leave or go. That remained to be the question at hand. Part of Evelynn urged herself to make haste in tying her letter, to release the owl and scurry out of the owlery with her head kept low and her gaze determinedly forward. That way, Prince would have her privacy for whatever it was that was clearly troubling her. If danger of being alone in the tower was really a concern, the lioness reasoned she could always linger nearby to the entrance and listen for any trouble, conveniently near to intervene as necessary. In fact, were she to do that, she might even be able to deter anyone else from entering and disturbing the sanctity of the peace.

Evelynn was just finishing tying off the letter when shuffling and the sound of approaching footsteps drew her gaze to a Miss Prince coming her way. Tear stains streaked her cheeks, and puffy red skin framed her eyes. She'd been crying, that much was clear, although Evelynn had already known that. What was interesting was the complete lack of attempting to hide that fact. Experience suggested most would have abhorred being visible in such a state of vulnerability. She certainly would have. Lips crimped, she pulled her gaze back to the owl just as the other prefect came to a halt a meter or so away.

"Why are you apologizing?" Evelynn wondered quietly, gently urging the owl to take flight. Her gaze would lift to follow after its path, hands falling to rest gently on the rail. "This is a common area, and you have as much right to be present as anybody else. Your reasons are your own business. If someone takes issue with that, then that is their problem."

The intellectualizing of a situation was always easier. Words just tended to flow for the prefect when there was something logistical or philosophical to argue or extrapolate. It had been second nature to hone in on the out-of-place apology as a means to fill the silence and rebreak the ice than to actually address the reason the apology had been made in the first place. The words had spilled from her mouth before she'd really taken a moment to think about how they might be interpreted or if it was really relevant to the situation. But she hadn't really known what else to say. Emotions were never really something she dealt with easily.

She hazarded another glance to Prince, her own eyes darting occasionally between each of Prince's. It had been a bit surprising that her fellow prefect had chosen to approach. Bold in a way that seemed to contradict the apology that had been spoken. Someone truly sorry likely would have tried to hide from sight or vacate the premises from embarrassment, yet here she was, openly acknowledging the situation.

"Are you.." Evelynn hesitated, uncertain what to do in this situation.

On the one hand, the temptation to bow out was still a very compelling one. She could offer her sympathies, take her leave, and pick up on the hint dropped by the words that had suggested not meaning for anyone to have seen. But the fallacy of ignorance had already been broached and here they were. Perhaps this was a not-so-silent plea for help. An invitation to inquire. Recent experience had reinforced the notion that too many students seemed to be burdening themselves with keeping personal difficulties quiet when if only they had spoken earlier, they might not have had to be bowed so low.

"What happened?" she asked, adjusting her approach. Obviously the girl was not alright. The tears were evidence enough of that. Taking a cue from the eagle, she'd decided to take a bold approach herself and ask outright. "If you do not mind my asking."

Evelynn glanced up as Dealla approached, just for a second before immediately looking down at the owl again. For a moment, Dee wondered why. A lack of interest? An attempt to give Dee and her red, puffy eyes a bit of privacy, despite the fact that she wasn't doing a thing to hide her state, had in fact approached Evelynn? Maybe the letter was just that pressing. Dealla didn't know, and didn't know Evelynn well enough to guess.

Cool wind streaked her damp face as the owl took flight, and Dee smiled, pointing at Evelynn. "True! I guess I'm not apologising for being here, not really. People just tend to be uncomfortable around crying people. I know I am... sometimes." That or she attempted to pry the reason for the tears out of said crying person with somewhat questionable persistence. "So I might be apologising for possibly making you uncomfortable."

Except that wasn't really the truth, either. Dealla didn't care if she made anyone uncomfortable. It had been an excuse to start a conversation, although she wasn't entirely clear on the reason for this herself.

The letter sent, Evelynn finally looked up to meet Dee's gaze, although her eyes seemed a little unsteady, changing focus from time to time. Are you okay was the obvious question for this situation, Dee had expected it. People would ask it even if the answer was obviously no, sometimes genuine, often just because they felt it was expected of them. Show concern for your fellow students, something like that.

Dealla had her mouth already open to reply before Evelynn had even finished the question. Except she didn't finish the question, and the automatic I'm fine Dee would have offered stopped on her tongue.

What happened was a much more reasonable question, and one Dee would have asked, too. She paused, her hand settling on the railing, fingers tapping, while she considered. "I don't mind you asking," she replied offhandedly. It was true. The real question was if she wanted to answer.

To her own surprise, she found she didn't mind the thought. While she may have dodged the question from her closer friends - it had taken her a year to tell her best friend when her grandparents had first contacted her - talking to someone less central in her life like Evelynn felt easier. Perhaps because her opinion didn't matter as much, it was hard to tell. It might even feel good to share.

That said, it was a difficult decision to figure out where to begin, and Dee hesitated. Hard to frame the last 16 years of her family's history into an easy to swallow summary. "Got a letter," she said, finally. Her hand was still clutching the parchment, crumpled now and damp with tears, but she would offer it to Evelynn to read, although there wasn't anything obviously bad in it. She would pause for a moment, giving the other girl the chance to accept or refuse it, to start reading if she wanted to. "I haven't talked to or heard from my father since July," she added. The memory of watching him walk away as she stood in front of the iron gates of her grandparents' mansion sat heavy and cold in her stomach. Her lips thinned, and she blinked against the burn of fresh tears in her eyes. "It's always just my mum. I'm pretty sure he," hates me, "is angry at me."

@Evelynn Decipio

Before Evelynn had even finished her original question, she had noticed the Ravenclaw's lips parted, as though primed to reply with a loaded answer. Perhaps it had been that which had prompted Evelyn initially to pause and rethink her approach. Perhaps it was coincidence. Either way, she wasn't disappointed by her shift in mentality, but was slightly surprised when Prince offered no objection. The two hardly knew each other, their exchanges limited primarily to professional-level interactions regarding the Headliner, prefectorial concerns, or academia during class. With few exceptions.

For a brief moment, her eyes trailed after the settling of the girl's hand to the rail, attentive to the tapping of her fingers, before returning to study the face attached to it. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Impatience? An anxious tic? Or perhaps just fidgeting, like her mother would do when prompted to deeper thought. It was refreshing in a way, counting the seconds tick past without immediate answer. There was thought being put into it. Real consideration. Evelynn's concern wasn't being merely swept under the rug or taken lightly as being superficially polite. Still, the seeker could not have expected just how deep the sharing might go.

Brows lofted with a fresh wave of unexpected bemusement when the proclamation of having receive a letter would be accompanied by its presentment. Lines etched themselves on Evelynn's forehead as she looked first to the crinkled and tear-stained parchment, and then back up to Prince as though attempting to gauge if this was some sort of trick or a genuine offer for her to read. There was hesitation in that moment, but ultimately, she would slowly reach out a hand to accept the letter, smoothing it out as best as she was able from the un-inked side before scanning its contents.

A thousand questions immediately jumped to mind as soon as she made mention of not having seen her father since July. July... that was quite some time ago. Over half a year by this time. At first, her mind had wandered down the painful road of a family coping with a missing person. The hope that perhaps he was alive, but the likelihood waning with every passing week. It would surely account for the tears. And perhaps this letter had given confirmation of having found a body. The girl had spoken before Evelynn could read the contents in their entirety, but any thoughts of criminal involvement or abduction would be set aside with the thought that he was angry with her.

Clearly there was a great deal of context to the situation. Perhaps the letter would hold those clues. She would hold her silence in that moment, in order to absorb what information she could, to better prompt her inquiries. But there was one thing, at least, that was not dependent on the context. Prince had said she was pretty sure he was angry with her. There was uncertainty there. An inconclusive assumption. When Evelynn had finished reading the letter, before commenting on what it had said, she would glance up to inquire, "What makes you believe that he is angry with you? I may be limited in my experience with this, but I am quite certain that anger, alone, would not hold a man back for nigh on seven months from seeing his own daughter..."

There was a pause, a hesitation, after Dee offered her letter to be read, but she barely spared it a thought. Perhaps it was odd to just provide her private correspondence to be read by a mere acquaintance, but there wasn't anything particularly secretive in it. It was not the sort of letter she would desperately want to keep to herself. Had she been a little less upset, she might even have enjoyed taking Evelynn aback with the offer.

The Gryffindor did read it though, with some delay, and Dee waited for her to finish, her fingers continuing the arrhythmic tapping on the railing. Fidgeting it was, like some people played with their wands to give their fingers something to do. Tense energy that wanted somewhere to go, standing still for long was not something Dealla was particularly good at.

What made her believe that he was angry with her? The way he'd walked away, the prolonged silence which was not at all usual for them. The fact that he had every right to be angry with her. In a way, she was angry with herself for choosing to meet her grandparents. She shouldn't have, shouldn't have wanted to, but hadn't been able to help it.

Again she was opening her mouth to give a response - more pieces of the context that Evelynn was of course sorely lacking - when Evelynn's last words struck her, shock cold to her chest, her breath stopping for a second and then setting in again, twice as fast. Of course, anger alone would not be enough, it was obvious even to someone who barely knew the circumstances. He wasn't just angry, he'd cut her out of his life the same way he'd done his parents. They'd deserved it. So she did, too?

Dealla's next words came forced, unsteady, her voice close to failing. "It's not the seeing... that isn't it. I saw him during last summer break and I didn't go home for Christmas, I was with my grandparents." Again. "That probably made it worse." Somehow, if she spoke more quietly, her throat didn't feel quite as tight, so her voice softened down to barely more than a whisper. But the words wanted out, the confession she'd been carrying around with her without ever speaking it, and she just wanted it gone, nevermind that she was unloading it on someone who was presumably very much unprepared for what was coming.

Looking down at the floor, that made it easier, too, which was an unfamiliar experience. Dee had never struggled with keeping her head up high.

"My grandparents, that's the problem. He hasn't talked to them since before I was born and they haven't talked to him and he was right not to because they're hateful people who look down on my mum because she's Muggle-born, and they disowned him for being with her, but he didn't care so they went away and they had me." She swallowed, a tear dripping to the floor when she blinked. "But when they asked me to visit them I did because I wanted to, even though they haven't apologised to my mum."

Dealla looked up, tears heavy on her lashes, staring at Evelynn helplessly, trying to read her expression. She'd rarely ever felt that helpless, that desperate for someone to tell her she was wrong. "Mum's not mad at me, but she should be, right? Or maybe she is. I'm not sure they want me to come home for Easter."

@Evelynn Decipio

There hadn't been anything particularly note-worthy about the letter. Nothing that Evelynn might have thought would have sparked such a decisive blow to an otherwise very well put-together fellow prefect.

Its contents had depicted typical words of pleasantry... The usual motherly inquiries into daily routine and novel developments with academia and social life... Some updates with regards to some business or other... A plea for her daughter to withhold from submitting her name as a candidate for champion for the upcoming Hexwizard tournament... And an inquiry as to whether she would return home for the holidays...

The letter would be folded neatly and passed back to Dealla without too much reaction on its contents. Quiet processing continued as Dealla spoke up again, this time addressing the context of her grand-parental situation. Evelynn turned, resting her lower back against the same rail that served as a percussive instrument to Dealla's anxious tapping. Elbows would lift to rest casually upon it, her hands permitted to rest limply to either side of her core.

She stared forward as she listened, eyes unfocussed, not looking at anything in particular, but rather digesting the words, plying them apart, and melding them back together. She could empathize with the girl's situation in some ways. It even hit home to some degree. But the more Dealla spoke, the less it seemed like an actually significant concern that there was any hatred to be had.

"From my understanding," Evelynn spoke when silence had once again fallen and there appeared to be no further information coming in the immediate moment, "the last time you saw your father was last summer. Roughly seven months past or so. Since then, you have been at school; with your grand-parents for the winter holidays; and then returned to school yet again. There has been no correspondence from him in that time."

Summarizing the information helped her to work through it and to highlight what she understood as the important aspects upon which to focus.

"I do not think there is anything the matter with wanting to spend time with your grand-parents," Evelynn went on, turning her head to allow her to look to Dealla. "As much as they may have their flaws, and while they may not share the same values as you, your mother, or your father... they are still your flesh and blood. They are part of who you are. It is important to know your heritage, even if only as a learning experience."

"That said," she went on, shrugging a brow and looking forward again, "I could understand why your father might have been hurt by that. When we spend so much time away at boarding school, it can be difficult to balance with whom we spend those precious spare months. I would have a hard time believing anyone would be mad at you for having spent your holidays away, although I could understand their disappointment in not being gifted with at least some of your time."

"But of course they would want you to come home for Easter," shifting, she rotated against the rail, this time squaring herself towards the Ravenclaw prefect, far elbow pulling away from the rail and adjusting to let her hand rest upon the other forearm that still rested along its length. "I imagine they are starved for time with you and would be thrilled for your undivided attention. It would give you an opportunity to speak with your father directly, as well. If you are really this worried that he hates you, you should talk to him about it."

With a flourish of a hand, she added, "for all you know, this could be a catastrophic misunderstanding."

Evelynn stayed quiet through Dealla's rush of words, and Dee appreciated the silence. Once she had started it would have been hard to rein it back in; interrupting the flow of her words to answer a question might have been sealing up a leak, ending her sudden readiness to share completely rather than pausing it. Choking her up in the process, it might have been harder to start at all next time.

When the Gryffindor started speaking, her words came measured, logical. A summary of what Dealla had said, except with the emotions stripped away, the bias of her own hurt that she couldn't step away from. She sucked in a breath as if to reply but then stopped, holding herself back. There was a nudge of curiosity that tempered her emotional state, what someone uninvolved, an outside would make of the situation.

Granted, her summary had been short. She hadn't talked about how her parents had moved across the country to get away from the Creeks. It hadn't contained all Dee felt about her grandparents, had not mentioned that they had not contacted her even once for the first twelve years of her life, and when they had, their letters had been full of suggestions that what her parents had told her might not be the full truth; or even truth at all. Nor had she explained that even now, despite visiting them, staying with them, she did not know what to think; and contrary to her usual curiosity and almost incessant urge to dig to the bottom of mysteries as they came, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

But Evelynn had gotten the bare bones of her situation, and it was, perhaps, enough to give some insight that Dee was too close to see.

A soft snort escaped her, unable to hold it back, at the suggestion that there was nothing wrong with wanting to get to know her grandparents. Except... yes, a learning experience, wasn't that what she was looking for? Proof that her opinions of her grandparents had been justified, that her parents had been truthful with her. But then, that was part of the source of her guilt, that she was even doubting them at all.

She was still fidgeting, fingers on the railing moving from the irregular drumming to tracing unseen symbols on the surface, but stilled slightly when Evelynn mentioned understanding why her father might be hurt. Not angry, but hurt. That was... oddly, something she hadn't considered. He was her father, cheerful and warm, her partner in crime, and while he might get angry with her at times, she had never seen herself with the power to hurt him. Had never meant to hurt him, of course not. The thought was strange to her.

"It's not... I don't..." Dee swallowed around the sudden ache in her throat. "I don't think they'd be mad that I didn't come home for Christmas. I stayed in Hogwarts for breaks before, that's not it." She paused, struggling for how to explain. "He's never been silent for that long before. While it's usually my mum who writes the letters, they always used to have something from him... a sentence, or a doodle, or, you know. My mum mentioning that he sends his love. But that just stopped and I don't know..."

Pausing for another breath, Dealla let her gaze shift away from Evelynn and the tower, out towards the grounds. It was an odd thing; she disliked flying, always had. The feeling of sitting on a broomstick, watching the ground vanish below her farther and farther down, had her stomach lurching in panic, cold sweat making her fingers slippery as they clung to the frail wooden broom too tightly.

Yet it wasn't the height that scared her. She liked towers, she liked climbing cliffs, standing near an edge and looking down, even jumping into water from ten meters high. No, it was the loss of control she struggled with, trusting herself to a glorified stick instead of her own hands and feet, her own magic. It was the unknown.

She had that same twisting feeling in her stomach now. Going home, making use of that opportunity to speak with her dad would mean giving up control, stepping into the unknown. It felt even worse with the idea that she might have hurt her father, intentional or not.

Her voice was soft when she spoke; just before the silence got too loud. "I'm scared."

@Evelynn Decipio

Going off on a limb with her introspection likely wouldn't be powerful enough of a sentiment. Taking a long walk off a short pier would be more apt. Evelynn was far from experienced. As much as she might be loathe to admit it, she was still only a teenager with a relatively narrow scope of first-hand understanding when it came to family and relationship matters. Many would likely balk at her audacity to offer any thought at all on such matters. And yet, she had uncanny skills of observation and an above average ability to perceive motives and emotions at play—when it was convenient for her, anyway. Especially when it came to real-time observation.

Prince was focused. That was one of the first conclusions the lioness had drawn. While many might perceive the fidgeting and absent circling of her fingers as distractible, Evelynn interpreted them as absent releases of anxious tension to allow the mind to relax enough to hone in on the conversation at hand. This notion was evidenced by the subtle reactions she had provided at various points of Evelynn's commentary.

In particular, the soft snort at the mention of there being nothing wrong with wanting to get to know her grandparents drew planted seeds of curiosity. Derisive, possibly? It was as though she thought the very notion of getting to know them was a laughable matter. But from whose perspective? Had she found it to be a wasted endeavor, Evelynn wondered. Or had it perhaps been more fruitful than expected, raising concerns with her parents that her values might be skewed to conflict with their own?

"I would not have thought them to be angry about your choice not to return home for the holidays either," Evelynn agreed, tilting her head slightly. "I did not mean to suggest that if I did. More... that given the choice made not to remain at Hogwarts, perhaps they might have expected to be able to share in some of your time..."

She would nod, then, cutting off the clarification—which may not have been needed in the first place—to listen. "I can only imagine how difficult that would be..." Evelynn uttered quietly. "To not have heard from him for so long, especially when accustomed to certain tokens of his appreciation as you are. There are many reasons, however, as to why that could be." A shrug of the brow would accompany a far-fetched, "Perhaps he believes you have no interest in receiving those tokens of affirmation anymore..."

Not that Evelynn necessarily suspected that's what the reason actually was, but there were too many options. Hurt, betrayal, anger were but a few emotions that could drive a withdrawal. Perhaps he was away and she did not realize. Perhaps he was in hospital and her mother wanted to spare Prince the news until a more appropriate time. Maybe he had forgotten. Or something else entirely. She could empathize with the uncertainty. Questions left unanswered had a certain way of circling and consuming the mind, of impeding on daily functioning if the answers were important enough. As they were here.

The Ravenclaw's gaze had shifted out across the grounds, and what thoughts ruminated behind their sapphire hues, Evelynn could only wonder at. When the voice finally broke through, it was fragile. Evelynn's lips crimped, her own sights turning to follow the trajectory of her peer, body shifting and turning to face the grounds even as hands fell to rest on the railing. "I think it is reasonable to be scared," she uttered quietly. "If you were not, it would mean that you held little care for the outcome. Maybe he is scared, too." Grey turned back to blue as she sent a pointed gaze towards Prince. "He lost a great deal when his parents disowned him. Maybe he is scared he will lose you."