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• THROUGH THE FIRE, AND THE FLAMES •

“Build in silence, and you’ll never be hit where you’re weak.”

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15th April | Selwyn Manor
Avery's Hex #136b5c Cadence's Hex #6d80ab June’s Hex #145C7A
wc: 1398

A continuation of Undone.

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┏		┓
	----- U ndeniable excitement, was what she had emanated at the prospect of a new friend. Though she had called him a bookworm, he couldn’t find it in him to disagree; he was astute, and keenly aware of the power held within the study of all things; in knowledge that could be used as a kind of power over others. Of course, he was always working an angle, but he felt himself losing his grip down the hill that led to companionship; forged by her kindred and kind spirit. It shone and beat throughout the very rooms they mock-waltzed through. Such was the dance of their kind, of their people; that they had mutually grumbled over not too long ago. Here she was, performing the very steps to the dance she hinted at hating. “If I had to answer another question about how I think I'll do on my end-of-terms, I'd burst." was what she had said, prompting a smile from the dark, pale fellow. Of course; he had to give it to her. This was slightly different; now, she was alive as anything, certainly more than the magical portraits that they past by on their way to the esteemed library that she had talked up. Pride. He pinned her fuel as pride, for as they walked and she spoke the tale of her families’ esteemed history, he thought her eyes were glinting in the same manner he had seen many times before. Such was the way of their shared duties; you get familiar with how people in your circles think and work, and act; so as to alter your own ways in pursuit of acceptance. That was the dance, and she was dancing. Her reservations crept between her tales. Perhaps she felt like she was boring him amongst all the finery and opulent décor. In truth, all of that bored him more. The tropical fruit juice was quirky, bold even, but that was about all that was remarkable to him of her belongings. That didn’t speak of his disapproval, but rather his familiarity with wealth. Sure, some trinkets and portraits were one of a kind; but it was the stories behind them that captured his interest, and frankly, he didn’t have time on their walk to properly absorb that which he saw. Her pride had his interest, her telling of those stories. The ties that build and sustain a family were always the most interesting parts of the parties he was forced to attend, and where he could; he demonstrated interest and implored her to go on. These were values their kind shared, but he supposed her telling of such was particularly interesting because he went to school with her, because they were in the same house and because he felt an uneasy ease that linked them. Families were important, that much he knew. It was the single-most talked about subject that his mother and grandmother spoke of. The Leveret patriarch rarely conversed with his family, let alone about them. Avery figured that this had something to do with the history of their family, that which he shied from telling in the same frank manner that she had done. He quite admired June for that, or perhaps he envied her for it. Avery was always dancing in conversations like this, around that which most of those he danced with, wanted to learn; to use to tear them down. That was what he had been taught, and he would not bring ruin unto them via reckless abandon; as his father had acted so that night. As his brothers had, for not reaching their potential. He could pinpoint their decline to a singular moment. Cadence and Ordelia worked tirelessly to counteract the effects of the fallout, to shield them from it, to this day; and yet the unspoken fact was undeniable, as undeniable as June’s perceived excitement, her pride. The Leveret method was to simply not speak of it, to ensure that Willard was not seen or spoken of; like a bastard child. Perhaps many families would react that way. Perhaps the source of such a strategy came from Cadence; the architect of how the rest of the evening might unfold in response… "Louise won't be returning to the party. Not after having the insolence as to be with another man in my own house." Had come through the closed dining doors, as clear as day. The tones that proceeded it were undoubtedly his mothers. Together, and with Phinehas’ confirmation, their words hung in the air. The grand and spacious corridor likely shrinking around her, he surmised. The pause in her step was all he saw. The back of her silky blonde hair concealed her well, for he had slowed his pace in his observation. It served her, as the shred of privacy that she had left; to him at least. This was her singular moment that she would pinpoint and refer back to, for many years, he knew. Families of their renown and status weren’t the kind to give up on the small things; divorcing over bickering or some such lesser, ignoble, grounds. They didn’t have that luxury; their relationships were often planned, pressured for decades, for the lines to be kept clean, and together. It took something big for a family like theirs to fall, as his had, he thought; and this was big. His pause communicated that her rage was almost tangible. Though she seemed far away, he wasn’t. Avery got to see, to observe; as he so loved to do. The natural instincts he held were already working against her, as he mapped in his head what had happened; where she and her family would be heading; how he and his could benefit from it. That was the way of the world; cutthroat: “If you let the sharks smell you bleed, what’s due will get you first” was something he’d overheard at one of his Grandmother’s functions. We’re all sharks, he thought, as June stemmed that which seeped from her for those brief, yet eternal, moments. Avery followed her, quietly, and distantly. Something in him felt that she was unworthy of what others might deem due to her. Perhaps it had something to do with hearing that his mother was involved somehow; an unspoken and perceived indebtedness, a guilt almost. He had walked after her, ensuring none should follow; slowly closing the door to the library behind them. It was so slow that he was facing it for a time, in thought still. Why wasn’t he coming up with something quick and witty to say? - He knew why. Now there was another thing that linked them, a similarly shaped stain that befell their clothes; never to wash out, or be rid of and that was sad. He wasn’t a self-pitying sort, and yet his pity of her demonstrated that; and he was uncomfortable with it. Here she was, venturing through her own crucible of adversity; the world against her and all he could do was think of himself. He had been through similar, in a way; a divorce in everything but name perhaps; and not quite so traumatically, but bearing enough of a similarity in his eyes to warrant empathy. She stood centrally in what was an impressive library, though all notions of their prior goals were lost. Silence clung to the frigid air of the unused space, a cold corner of the once warm party, and he let it. She would need those precious seconds, he thought, but he knew that neither could keep up the charade for long. In his way, he decided to tear off that bandage, to save her from having to do it herself. He had every intention of a witty, fun, poke at the situation. ‘Now that was a party!’, ‘Brava, the main event was splendid.’ or some such cruel jibe. He could not muster it to his tongue. ”If you would like me to leave you, I will, but you should not be alone right now.” He said, quieter and nicer than his usual tone, as he turned from the door to face her. ”Even if it means I sit here with your dullest encyclopaedia…” He gave with a soft shrug, but no joking smile. Avery Leveret was being genuine.
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Interacting with: @June Selwyn

Quiet.

Void.

Broken.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with a palpable sense of emptiness and desolation, suffocating June as if the very air had been drained of life. It was as if joy and life itself had fled, leaving behind only a haunting void that swallowed her senses.

She stood amidst the shelves of her beloved library, a place that had always brought her comfort, the place that had been her refuge for so many years. Yet now, it seemed insignificant and uninviting in the dim light of her current state.

A torrent of conflicting emotions raged within her, unsettling her to the core. What she truly desired frightened her. June wanted to hurt somebody. To unleash a torrent of spells and curses, to inflict pain, and to make someone, and make someone, anyone, pay for the overwhelming anguish she was enduring. The intensity of her anger was foreign, a tempest that threatened to drown her whole being.. And as much as it fueled the rage seething within her, it made her briefly afraid of inhabiting her own body.

At the same time, June wanted to cry in her mother's arms. To wail, to be comforted, to have her hair stroked and be told that everything was going to be okay. How she'd missed the presence of her mother these past few months, and now it would never be restored. Her relationship with her mother, with love, with family, was now fractured, split, cracked, broken in two. And June knew that she would not get the respite from her mother she so desperately wanted.

The soft sound of the library door latching brought her back to her unfortunate reality. June was too afraid to act upon her turbulent emotions, too kind to follow through with these vengeful impulses. And, in what was possibly a cruel twist of fate, she was not alone in this tumultuous moment. Destiny, or perhaps mere chance, had placed a companion by her side today.

Avery Leveret was an aggravating yet comforting variable in this situation. He knew, that was for certain. What was June to do? Not only did she need to process the hurt, the betrayal, the grief, the anger, but she needed to decide if she kept her mask on. Decide in the span of only a few short moments if Avery could be trusted, if what was said or expressed in this room would stay there or if it would find its way into the whispers of the families surrounding hers. And yet, as much as it made her feel like a small child, all June really wanted was a hug. But that was not the sort of thing that someone like June Selwyn could simply ask for, and that just made her more angry and more confused.

Her parents were likely going to separate. June's mind raced as she struggled to comprehend the weight of its implications for her future, her father, her name, her legacy. Questions swarmed her mind, an unyielding swarm of hypothetical and rhetoricals. What did this mean for her family in France? Would she never see her relatives again? Would June need to speak to her mother again? What did this mean for the party?

Some questions clearly held more weight than others, but in the moment, each held the weight of a heavy stone, crushing the blonde girl beneath them with each breath. In, out, she thought. In, out, in, out, in out, inoutinoutinout.

Hot tears quickly raced down June's cheeks. She allowed them to fall for a moment before quickly brushing them away, fighting to fight off more that threatened to spill. She could not afford to break down here.

”If you would like me to leave you, I will, but you should not be alone right now.” June turned to face him just as he did the same, the pair almost in perfect sync. ”Even if it means I sit here with your dullest encyclopedia…” She searched his eyes for any sign of derision, of mal-intent. She found none, though she did not search with much diligence to find any. It appeared that Avery Leveret had let walls down, however few. A truly kind gesture in response to June's walls which had been unceremoniously ripped apart.

June took a shaky breath. "Please don't go." It was a moment of weakness, and a small part of her knew that this was foolish. Given their upbringing and current mere surface-level acquaintance, it was unwise to seek comfort from Avery Leveret, of all people. Yet, in that moment, his presence felt like an anchor, something to hold on to amidst the storm.

"I.." Think, Selwyn, don't be stupid. The harshness of her own thoughts now were being weaponized against her. "I'm not quite sure what to do now." She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hurt, to maim, to make right. But her response could not be one of instinct, not here, not now. Such was the curse June was born into.

Here stood Avery Leveret. Did June still have to dance?

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• THROUGH THE FIRE, AND THE FLAMES •

““Build in silence, and you’ll never be hit where you’re weak.”

─▪────────────────────────▪─

15th April | Selwyn Manor
Avery's Hex #136b5c Cadence's Hex #6d80ab June’s Hex #145C7A
wc: 571

A continuation of Undone.

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	----- C andidly, she spoke. That bit hit him harder, he thought. She’d had the stuff to put aside her pride and plead him to stay; and whilst she said she didn’t know what to do now, she’d done the right thing all the same. Loneliness was a cruel mistress, and Avery knew that better than most. His own experiences after his family ‘incident’ were enough to mould his reaction into something that was more benevolent than if he had simply learned of the event after the fact. He was here for it, so he had to be here for her, anything else was improper; and not who he was, for now. ”Kick, scream, punch- it’s what I wanted to do.” He said, before realising that he wasn’t as delicate as he should have been. “Uh. - That’s not to say we’ve been through the same. Similar, though.” He stepped into the library proper then, removing his gaze from her in case it felt too heavy. He meant what he had said, if he had to stay here and simply read a book, he would. Of course, the preferential outcome would be to comfort her in some manner but the reality of this being their first meeting had resigned him to finding a tome to read until she indicated otherwise, but something drew his gaze back, which was soft with inquiry. He knew there was anger there. A small part of him hoped her response would be to duel it out or something,, to let out the unbridled rage, and that would be better. Avery wasn’t good at comforting words, he never had the practice with such things, having got on with it whenever he went through a tough time. Of course, this made her unspoken desire for a hug all the more unlikely, and him all the more oblivious as to how to proceed. The scales of his decision making soon tipped in the favour of action; in the stripping of the band-aid, as a pragmatic sheen shuttered over his dark eyes. ”Listen, it’s shit.” He gave again, having sensed that her position and status was weighing on her reaction, as he stepped closer with his palms up in an instinctive ‘it’s okay’ gesture. If he wanted to draw out her anger he likely could, but he didn’t. ”And it’s a lot, all at once. It’s why I’ll read if I have to.” He gestured to some shelves. ”But if it makes it easier, know that you have my silence. Right now, school and social circles and gossip and climbing the ladder- all of that doesn’t matter right now.” He gave a flat smile. ”Usually I’d attach a string or two to that offering too, but that fruit juice and this library was preeeetty persuasive.”” He added, with a tad more humour in his tone for what was a mostly-true statement. Dark eyes shifted to the shelves, searching for eye-catching spines, or a book sorting system to identify the genres, authors or other such features. ”You weren’t kidding eh?” He said with a satisfied hum. He wouldn’t press her for any further response to her world falling apart, instead adopting the tried and tested Leveret response: just act normal.
┗		┛

Interacting with: @June Selwyn

And just like that, the knot that had found itself in June's stomach began to unravel. Her face contorted slightly as she began to allow herself to cry, something she had not let herself do the first time. As much as she hated to feel weak, the act was liberating.

With permission to be authentic, June's gaze frantically whipped from side to side. She needed to break something. Now. A small table stood to the side of the room, an ornate stained glass vase filled with water and lilies placed upon it. Bye-bye, vase.

June stormed over, upheaving the table onto its side in silent ire. The vase shattered, water beginning to trail along the tile floor. She looked at it for a moment, how the light bounced off the fractured pieces of coloured glass and danced on the surrounding walls. Not particularly caring if she injured herself, June lifted her foot and began to smash the vase into smaller and smaller pieces. They scattered across the smooth floor. Each shattering sound echoed her inner monologue filled with venom for her mother. This. Is. For. Everything. You've. Done. You. Bitch.

When she was satisfied that the vase had endured enough, she stood still for a moment. June closed her eyes, absorbing the silence in the room, knowing that all other parts were shrouded in either anger, faux laughter, selfish conversations or, in a room not so far away, strategizing and planning damage control. But none of that was here, none of it would infiltrate her sacred library. This was the place where her soul was set free, where her mind was not confined to the four walls around here. The place where she finally felt in control. And yet here she was, any semblance of control she once felt quickly, so quickly, draining away.

The significance of what Avery was doing for June was not lost on her. To so plainly state the absence of ulterior motives was not something so often done. It was kindness, a surprising act to be found at such a function.

The blonde girl turned her head towards her console, finding him observing the collection of books and tomes that lined the walls of the room. She offered a small chuckle at his quip, a pathetic response, but the only one she could muster. She wiped away her tears, fresh ones still falling. June wasn't going to bother stopping those anymore. "No, I really wasn't," she smiled softly. Sniffing, she stood upright and walked to the other side of the room, her eyes trained on one large book. If Avery was indeed interested in encyclopedias, she'd give him an interesting one to peruse if he so desired. The spine was adorned with enchanted gold leaf, charmed to subtly swirl in patterns vaguely reminiscent of rushing water. She pulled it out and set it on a nearby (still intact) table, a thin wistful smile on her face as she spoke. "They only made 20 of these, you know. It's a real collector's item." This was truly her domain. She knew every title of every book, their location, and for most, she could recollect their origin or publishing year.

The sound of a closing door and footsteps came from beyond the library door, a sign that whatever conversation Phinehas and Cadence had was finished, and whatever plan they had come up with was being put into action. With a slightly clearer mind, Avery's words repeated in June's mind. It's what he wanted to do? In a similar situation? She pursed her lips together as she pondered, but she would not dare ask or pry. Not now, anyways. But if he had experience and wisdom, guidance perhaps, it was something she desperately wanted.

"What helped?" June asked. She looked him in the eyes, desperate for any semblance of a way forward. "You said what you wanted to do but... What worked?" Her attention turned to the weight of her wand in her pocket. "Because all I want to do is get it out of my system and try to forget she ever existed."

· · ─▪───────────── ·· ─────────────▪─ · ·

• THROUGH THE FIRE, AND THE FLAMES •

“Build in silence, and you’ll never be hit where you’re weak.”

─▪────────────────────────▪─

15th April | Selwyn Manor
Avery's Hex #136b5c Cadence's Hex #6d80ab June’s Hex #145C7A
wc: 761

A continuation of viewtopic.php?t=26723&start=0

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	----- There it was. June had carried with her that air. She walked like she was about to fall, she hid behind walls determined to crumble and she smiled like she was about to cry. It must’ve been easy, given the circumstances, to accept his offer. He knew that he could have done with the same, and now he had the chance to offer that to someone in a situation he had found himself in far too frequently. She would be known as the kid whose parents split up, and that thought would plague her mind, and that of others, forevermore. Their criticisms can be defended against; with training and experience; but she would always fall prey to her own thoughts. It knew her own thoughts, her own nature, her. It was the perfect enemy. - That was the conclusion he had come to about his own woes at least. His pale lips twisted into a small smile and he lifted his head in approval. There was something about watching her moment of liberation that stoked a fire within his otherwise cold-appearing eyes. He watched her more than the glass that exploded across the flagstones, peering to glimpse her face through it all. Though he hadn’t planned for it, this opportunity was perhaps worthy of some ulterior motive; the raw emotion of it was quite moving; human. She took her moment, and it eventually passed her by. When she was coming back to her senses, he would feign interest in another book; the last thing she needed was his intruding eyes. There was a privilege to being here, and he wouldn’t skirt that line more than necessary. He was, afterall, being genuine. When she walked across the room, he slid the book in his hands back onto the shelf to follow her; as she seemed to have a purpose to her step. When she presented him with a rather fanciful encyclopaedia, he suppressed a smile. She had taken him far too literally, but he didn;t have anyone else to blame but himself. “You know, that’s actually quite impressive.” He’d given, in surprise as he carefully thumbed the tome, page by page for a few moments. The closing door didn’t draw his overt attention, though he had clocked it in his periphery. Perhaps keeping her here would serve whatever machinations their seniors had come up with, he could only hope. Thankfully she didn’t make to leave, and instead asked him a question that gave rise to the smallest flex of his jaw muscles. It was direct, but it was perhaps owed to her. Was that a sign that it was still a sore subject? “A lesson that came to me, through reading, actually. - No one shall ever understand how much it hurts. You feel hopeless, like nothing could save you. Drowning in an endless sea. Do you really get over the pain or do you just get used to it? When you get used to it, it becomes you. You become it. - So you ask yourself, how many little deaths have you died to be so strong? How many more are you going to endure? That’s a question of will. Do you choose a little death, or do you choose to use that as fuel?” He caught himself after a while, as though he’d strayed too close to a shadow. “Did anything work? I suppose not. - Even now I am its product. My comfort is in the understanding that it happened, and it made me this way, and there is no greater crime than denying oneself. At any one moment, I can’t seem to be anything less than all of me.” Avery smiled at her then. Though it wasn’t a straightforward answer, he hoped that she could at least find something in his response. “But what they don’t tell you is when it’s over and it’s gone or leaving, and you feel like you have a moment to be your old self again, you almost wish that you could have all the bad stuff back. You end up missing it.” He added, as though it was a mercy to let her know. Of course, this related to something slightly different; something that came with other pressures and expectations. His response to that was destined to be darker, and perhaps not so helpful to her in this situation, but he wasn’t aware of his subconscious desire to lead her from the light.
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Interacting with: @June Selwyn

Little deaths.

It was a seed that was planted that day. It would threaten to grow as the days went on, but for now, it was a novel idea, a new turn of phrase for June to ponder.

She listened as her unlikely companion spoke, drinking in his words like a parched wanderer longing for anything to drink."Use it as fuel," she whispered to herself, as if testing the weight of the words on her tongue. The concept, though nebulous, held promise. Fuel for what, she wasn't entirely sure, but she refused to let it become a weight dragging her into the depths.

June receded into herself for a moment once he finished, orienting herself to the shifted contents of her mind and heart, familiarizing herself with the invisible scars etched into her. In the silent aftermath of Avery's words, a quiet introspection unfolded within her. The air hung heavy with the unspoken consequences of Louise's actions. There was so much that would change now, countless adjustments that would be made to routine, to relationships, to home. With a sigh that carried the weight of both relief and despair, June found solace in whatever this moment had turned out to be. It was a bridge of sorts, forged by words that crossed the borders of both Avery and June's calculated walls.

June's tear-stained face now wore only the aftermath of emotion, glassy eyes reflecting the inner turmoil that had briefly overtaken her. "Your words seem to carry a lot of wisdom, Avery Leveret." A tired smile rested on her lips. "I wish my first interaction with them had been under better circumstances." Straightening up, June allowed herself to come back to reality. The reality that she was hosting a party at her house and being away for much longer would, and not the reality that she was a girl whose heart was torn in two. That reality would have to be shelved for now, and likely would remain shelved for a long while.

"Thank you, Avery." What followed were not empty words. The phrase lingered in the pause, heavy with the weight of contemplation. She knew the risks of what she was about to say, but something within her wouldn't be able to rest unless she let it out. "I owe you," she declared, releasing the words into the fragile space between them, a promise that echoed with unspoken tethers.