[closed] Prophetic Pareidolia [Solo-ish] - Atrium

1 Nov 2023, 21:39

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• I STILL SEE YOUR SHADOWS IN MY ROOM •
“But in all chaos, there is calculation.”
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August 29th | The Ministry Of Magic Atrium
Avery's Hex #136b5c Cadence's Hex #6d80ab The Prophecy
wc: 1242

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Spoken words had seldom left a mark upon he; who held such an ironclad view of himself; who projected a most false and perfect visage to the world, and yet these did.

"I am black and you are red. I am the black because I was already dead. You're red because of the dead."

It was spartan, and easy enough to understand, but still each word rang inside his head like the sonorous bells of a tolling steeple, calling the nightmares home to feast. Summer camp was all but ruined by the occasional terrors he would face ; the flitting shadows that conspired in the periphery of his vision had not once, but twice impeded his duelling effectiveness. Firstly with Fang Hui-Ming at his side, and then in the official summer games when he froze up and felt the chill crawling up his spine. Such was of course linked to his meeting with Athanatos; who himself danced within the shadows as though he owned them; who had disappeared without any personal trace. The only way Avery could accept that their meeting had happened at all was thanks to the token of Vladimir’s lesson; a crumpled pack of Marlboro Gold cigarettes that he had imparted dually with some personal wisdom.

Part of Avery had hoped that one day, when he checked the drawer by his bed where he kept them; he would find them missing. At least if that happened, his mind would finally rest. The vision-like instances of sobering terror were treated with some kind of obsession, mindful of every detail; going so far as to mark down when they occurred. It was hard to both interpret and delineate, though he wasn’t doing much of the latter. No one yet knew of his troubles; they didn’t matter, and they eventually became fewer. The words however, still rattled him when he lay staring at the high, Georgian ceiling of his large bedroom; which he had since converted into some kind of laboratory; designed entirely to make sense of the pareidolia that was consuming him.

Suffering in silence was a good enough strategy, as it didn’t make much difference to the usual life he led at home. but eventually it was noticed by his mother, and suddenly the lack of any clear progress was soon to change.

Gleefully he accepted her proposal, attending the Ministry of Magic, with her level of access? It was something of a fantasy; his idea, but who knows what his trip might glean? Besides, if it didn’t work out, his mother was always making a point for him to understand the importance of being seen in such places.

Returning to the grand halls of the Ministry was always something he could look forward to, what with it being the height of magical class, the centre of magical power contained within the labyrinthine onyx walls. It was true that simply being within such a prestigious location was inspiring to most. Avery was no exception to the rule, especially with the relationship between his family and the law, on both sides of the docket. If anything, that exacerbated things; now especially. The ill-fated boy would still feel the pressures burdened upon him, like a family pack mule; it was as if he himself was the only one to redeem their name, and yet he was keenly aware of the fact that he had two brothers; neither of which seemed to be offering nothing to help alleviate the strain on them. One of them worked here, but even then that wasn’t hard; especially in the capacity of some second level ‘Junior Administrative Assistant’ within the Administration & Registration division. Avery would rather endure the curse of bogies for the rest of his life than admit to holding such a position; and his brother held it proudly too.

This sort of augury was left for the mystics and seers of the wizarding world, not he; he whose mind it had consumed so effortlessly. - It was hard to blame himself, when he rationalised it. Last school year, Avery was the subject of a dead boys’ antics, akin to some diegesis of old; timeless; production. That’s what it was, he thought. If the uttered prophecy was anything other than parol then it was indeed fated; as fated as scripts and old productions. The question as to whether or not he was the subject of the prophecy rattled him most, perhaps he was being toyed with; To what end? Why? - Athanatos had no ties to his family that he could uncover, no ties to his very limited close circle of acquaintances either, he gathered. Eventually, he persuaded himself of its truth; at least to the extent that he was going to investigate it further rather than discarding it for nonsense and a trip to the ministry offered something towards that end.

Cadence Leveret went first through the floo, with him in tow. Both were dressed accordingly; her in a professional, yet stylish suit that was intended to remind those who saw her that she belonged here; with few jewels and trinkets as she typically preferred. Her approach was always; timeless, looking like you belong was one of the skills Avery most admired about her, a chameleon of any setting or backdrop. He simply wore an everyday suit with a red tie; the former of which wasn’t perfectly measured like some of his ballroom ones but on the more casual side of things; something people would expect of an astute young man visiting the Ministry. Both of them were stood before the grand fireplace in their home, in a room that exuded an old-world charm with its rich tapestries and décor that was all illuminated by the golden light of wall sconces; which bathed them both in a warmth and cast long shadows into the room behind them as they left one by one. His brief moment alone in the room saw him gulp as an uneasy tension brought his attention to the tightness of his collar and tie, eventually stepping into the fireplace, clutching a handful of floor powder in his free hand and launching it to the floor as he commanded his destination.

Neither of them were touched by the magical flames, seemingly kindled in an consuming fire that transported them safely; a juxtaposition that struck him every time he used the mystical transport. His rumination was ripped from him the moment he stepped out of the connected grand fireplace and into the atrium on the 8th floor, into a sea of gabbling, hustling and bustling throng of jibberers and ditherers. In his mind, chancers was a better word, but it was lost on him that he was in that category.

Wizards from all over were spotted. Some wore their official uniforms, others their traditional robes and there were a few dignitaries or some-such that wore funny little hats. It was interesting to behold; it was as though each quirk recognised another, creating small clusters of similar themed gaggles. Many, like him, were less archaic in their choice of attire but they simply shared awkward glances. Not with him of course, though he did attract some looks; mainly on behalf of his mother, and some on behalf of that which he held under his arm. Avery had volunteered himself to hold a set of sealed letters and a smaller packaged gift under his arm. His charge was a responsibility, and an excuse to wander.

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	----- Spoken words had seldom left a mark upon he; who held such an ironclad view of himself; who projected a most false and perfect visage to the world, and yet these did. "I am black and you are red. I am the black because I was already dead. You're red because of the dead." It was spartan, and easy enough to understand, but still each word rang inside his head like the sonorous bells of a tolling steeple, calling the nightmares home to feast. Summer camp was all but ruined by the occasional terrors he would face ; the flitting shadows that conspired in the periphery of his vision had not once, but twice impeded his duelling effectiveness. Firstly with Fang Hui-Ming at his side, and then in the official summer games when he froze up and felt the chill crawling up his spine. Such was of course linked to his meeting with Athanatos; who himself danced within the shadows as though he owned them; who had disappeared without any personal trace. The only way Avery could accept that their meeting had happened at all was thanks to the token of Vladimir’s lesson; a crumpled pack of Marlboro Gold cigarettes that he had imparted dually with some personal wisdom. Part of Avery had hoped that one day, when he checked the drawer by his bed where he kept them; he would find them missing. At least if that happened, his mind would finally rest. The vision-like instances of sobering terror were treated with some kind of obsession, mindful of every detail; going so far as to mark down when they occurred. It was hard to both interpret and delineate, though he wasn’t doing much of the latter. No one yet knew of his troubles; they didn’t matter, and they eventually became fewer. The words however, still rattled him when he lay staring at the high, Georgian ceiling of his large bedroom; which he had since converted into some kind of laboratory; designed entirely to make sense of the pareidolia that was consuming him. Suffering in silence was a good enough strategy, as it didn’t make much difference to the usual life he led at home. but eventually it was noticed by his mother, and suddenly the lack of any clear progress was soon to change. Gleefully he accepted her proposal, attending the Ministry of Magic, with her level of access? It was something of a fantasy; his idea, but who knows what his trip might glean? Besides, if it didn’t work out, his mother was always making a point for him to understand the importance of being seen in such places. Returning to the grand halls of the Ministry was always something he could look forward to, what with it being the height of magical class, the centre of magical power contained within the labyrinthine onyx walls. It was true that simply being within such a prestigious location was inspiring to most. Avery was no exception to the rule, especially with the relationship between his family and the law, on both sides of the docket. If anything, that exacerbated things; now especially. The ill-fated boy would still feel the pressures burdened upon him, like a family pack mule; it was as if he himself was the only one to redeem their name, and yet he was keenly aware of the fact that he had two brothers; neither of which seemed to be offering nothing to help alleviate the strain on them. One of them worked here, but even then that wasn’t hard; especially in the capacity of some second level ‘Junior Administrative Assistant’ within the Administration & Registration division. Avery would rather endure the curse of bogies for the rest of his life than admit to holding such a position; and his brother held it proudly too. This sort of augury was left for the mystics and seers of the wizarding world, not he; he whose mind it had consumed so effortlessly. - It was hard to blame himself, when he rationalised it. Last school year, Avery was the subject of a dead boys’ antics, akin to some diegesis of old; timeless; production. That’s what it was, he thought. If the uttered prophecy was anything other than parol then it was indeed fated; as fated as scripts and old productions. The question as to whether or not he was the subject of the prophecy rattled him most, perhaps he was being toyed with; To what end? Why? - Athanatos had no ties to his family that he could uncover, no ties to his very limited close circle of acquaintances either, he gathered. Eventually, he persuaded himself of its truth; at least to the extent that he was going to investigate it further rather than discarding it for nonsense and a trip to the ministry offered something towards that end. Cadence Leveret went first through the floo, with him in tow. Both were dressed accordingly; her in a professional, yet stylish suit that was intended to remind those who saw her that she belonged here; with few jewels and trinkets as she typically preferred. Her approach was always; timeless, looking like you belong was one of the skills Avery most admired about her, a chameleon of any setting or backdrop. He simply wore an everyday suit with a red tie; the former of which wasn’t perfectly measured like some of his ballroom ones but on the more casual side of things; something people would expect of an astute young man visiting the Ministry. Both of them were stood before the grand fireplace in their home, in a room that exuded an old-world charm with its rich tapestries and décor that was all illuminated by the golden light of wall sconces; which bathed them both in a warmth and cast long shadows into the room behind them as they left one by one. His brief moment alone in the room saw him gulp as an uneasy tension brought his attention to the tightness of his collar and tie, eventually stepping into the fireplace, clutching a handful of floor powder in his free hand and launching it to the floor as he commanded his destination. Neither of them were touched by the magical flames, seemingly kindled in an consuming fire that transported them safely; a juxtaposition that struck him every time he used the mystical transport. His rumination was ripped from him the moment he stepped out of the connected grand fireplace and into the atrium on the 8th floor, into a sea of gabbling, hustling and bustling throng of jibberers and ditherers. In his mind, chancers was a better word, but it was lost on him that he was in that category. Wizards from all over were spotted. Some wore their official uniforms, others their traditional robes and there were a few dignitaries or some-such that wore funny little hats. It was interesting to behold; it was as though each quirk recognised another, creating small clusters of similar themed gaggles. Many, like him, were less archaic in their choice of attire but they simply shared awkward glances. Not with him of course, though he did attract some looks; mainly on behalf of his mother, and some on behalf of that which he held under his arm. Avery had volunteered himself to hold a set of sealed letters and a smaller packaged gift under his arm. His charge was a responsibility, and an excuse to wander.
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closed Prophetic Pareidolia Solo-ish