It's dead easy PV Evelynn Decipio Finished

⋖ 19/Apr/2024 @ late afternoon? | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Finnegan Connor | MENTIONING n/a
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If there was one thing she missed about duelling, it was the reliability that with the exception of a strategic atmospheric charm, the weather indoors generally maintained itself to be dry and amiably temperate. The same could not be said about the quidditch pitch. Outside, nestled solidly in the Spring highlands, rain was a frequent flyer. Which was all well and good to maintain the lush greenery of the rolling hills, but when it came to practice, it was absolutely miserable. While cutting through the air at high speeds, the water droplets seemed to have an uncanny ability to work their way into the smallest nooks and crannies, soaking every fibre as though having just taken a dip in the lake. That, coupled with the biting winds and temperature drops at higher elevations, made for a chilling to the bone that lingered far after escaping to the warmth of a hearth.

If idle chatter and nervous laughs were being exchanged, it was between those far removed from Evelynn. Although it hadn't been so recent that she had returned to the team, the closer they got to their match against Ravenclaw, the less inclined she was to mingle with the others on the team. From what little reconnaissance she had conducted, Gryffindor had been struggling recently. Although this wasn't her problem to rectify—she was neither first string seeker, nor a captain, after all—she doubted she would ever be able to relinquish that sense of responsibility she felt. Once Evelynn committed herself to a path, nothing short of a hospitalizing event would prevent her from following through on it. It didn't even matter that she would likely be spending most of her time on the bench. Now that she was back on the team, she would do everything she could to make sure her contribution was as good as it could be. With a win:loss ratio of 7:1, she wasn't going to let the distraction of idle camaraderie shift her off course.

Of course... not all interaction was idle, and as much as she continued to trend towards flitting on the peripheries of social spheres, Evelynn was far from oblivious to the behavioural inclinations of her peers. In fact, ever since being made aware that certain loose ends had not been as tied off as she'd previously thought, and that chaos continued to reign in proximity to certain individuals, the lioness had only become all the more vigilant. Or rather, the lapse in attentiveness she'd displayed over the course of recent years had been corrected.

To that end, the shift in Connor's behaviour over the past week may as well have been a beacon. Ever since his arrival in her dorm after their return from winter holidays, he had taken on the role of her token irritant. Never seeming to be terribly far, he'd gradually—and therefore without much protest—worked his way to being a rather permanent fixture in the Nundu Niche. If asked, Evelynn likely wouldn't even be able to pinpoint exactly when his residency had technically started; and since he had deftly danced on the line of curious and respectfully withdrawn, she'd felt no dire need to contest the change and seen him delivered back from when he'd come. History liked to repeat itself, many would cite. Mister Connor's delicate threading of his presence into her daily life might have held a strong resemblance to that of another's, had she stopped at any point to consider the parallel. Fortunately for him, she hadn't, which meant he got to go on as he had been, and when his behaviour shifted to one of being more withdrawn and socially avoidant, she took notice. Today only added to that trend.

As the others filed out one by one or in small groups, Evelynn lingered, which wasn't entirely unusual for her anyway. She never seemed to hurry herself for anything much at all, anymore. Especially when it would mean finding herself surrounded by the masses of her peers. Once a social butterfly, she now trended towards prowling the peripheries. Watching. Waiting. Just as she did now. Like Hallowe'en sheets hung from a late autumn tree, Mister Connor sat wrinkled and sodden, windswept and forgotten. Water fell from him in veiny rivulets to gather at his feet, as though the very essence of his life force went with it. She hadn't missed the shadows gathering beneath his eyes or the loss of luster to his typically youthful skin. He was beginning to look about as well as she felt most nights. That didn't sit well with her, and it was past time she confronted him about it.

Just as he did, she waited for solitude. Relative solitude, anyway. Unlike Connor, Evelynn was not limited by mundane hygiene practices. Given the weather, she had hardly been able to work up any sort of sweat, and had decided any further shower would just be superfluous after the downpour they'd all just survived. Repeated mutterings of "Aer calidus" and the occasional "scourigfy" or "reparo" were all that were really needed to clean, dry, and repair any of her articles of clothing and gear. The Hot-Air Charm was even sufficient to dry her own hair, though it was only because of the enchanted comb that she avoided a frizzy nightmare and instead had it all settle tidily into a perfectly curled bob. She was just applying her usual daily makeup when she finally heard him return to the bench. By then, they were the only two remaining. Doubting he would be speeding swiftly out the locker room, she took a moment to finish up.

Stowing her kit and whatever items hadn't yet been put away, she closed her locker, and turned the corner. He was still seated there, half dressed, rummaging through his things. Her gaze settled over him, watching as he did. He didn't look up. Metal creaked slightly as the weight of her shoulder pressed into the locker nearby, arms folding gently across her core. "You have been avoiding your peers." The cadence low, she delivered the comment slowly and without greeting. While she didn't want to frighten him or see him leave before she'd managed to get answers out of him, neither did she feel the need to beat around the bush. "I would ask how you are doing, but anyone attentive enough would see you have not been well. Have you managed to sleep at all?" It had always been—and still was—the nightmares for her.

🅵 I N N E G A Nxx🅲 O N N O R
xxxGRYFFINDOR SECOND YEAR GRYFFINDOR LOCKER ROOM

It's dead easy 19th of April 2024

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He'd noticed her in his periphery even before she leaned against the locker, her prying, searching eyes prickling his skin. Unlike most, she wasted no time throwing pitying looks his way and cut right through the pleasantries. "No," he said without looking at her, still rifling through his duffel bag for a clean shirt. Maybe he hoped she was some kind of apparition that would simply disappear if he kept stubbornly ignoring it. "I'm fine," he added by the time he'd pulled a dark, crumpled shirt over his head. He tried to keep his voice light, though even he could hear it cracking and faltering around the edges. Resolutely, he zipped up his bag and slung it over one of his drooping shoulders before he finally allowed his dull gaze to fall on her. She looked as well-kempt and impeccable as ever, not a strand out of place. "Guess I'm just trying to blend in with the mood and furniture of our dorm," he shrugged, attempting a feeble grin as he did so. Not too long ago, it had been he who had stood at a distance from Evelynn, watching her from the doorframe when she had been perched in the bay window, lost in a swamp of thoughts. She'd never been a proverbial ray of sunshine, but he'd known instantly that something had been awry. It had been obvious, just like his predicament was obvious now. Unlike her troubled waters, though, his were clear and plain for all to see: avoidance was not the symptom of an untroubled mind. "Anyway, you're not my mum. So." He snapped his jaw shut. So I don't need to tell you anything, he finished in his mind. The bitter truth was that he couldn't tell his mum either. The day one of the school owls would deliver to the Connor family a note saying that he'd been attacked with a knife would be the day his time at Hogwarts would come to a sudden, screeching end. If Evelynn wanted to play at being a concerned mum and get through to him, she'd have to deal with five-foot-something of petulant near-teen first. Part of him knew he shouldn't be sniping back at her. She was only trying to help, but how could she? No one could. Everyone was spilling over with pity, but no one had any answers—none that they cared to share with him anyway. Why had he been attacked? And by whom? At first, he'd been convinced it had been Ms Norrick's doing, but the Professors must have thought otherwise, or she surely wouldn't have been allowed to roam the hallways like nothing had happened. The other option—the blonde boy—was equally bewildering. Finnegan didn't know him at all. If it had been just him perhaps he could've convinced himself there was no reason, no grand conspiracy behind it all, but over the course of the week he'd learned a lot more had been going on that night. Mr. Warren had been overcome by violent instincts, Mr. Dralt had lost an eye, Bex had had her outfit dyed red, spells had been thrown around like rose petals at a wedding and yet despite all that, no one had presented him with an explanation of what had happened. His nostrils flared as he took a sharp, steadying breath. Evelynn was only trying to help. He shouldn't be angry with her, shouldn't lash out at her, no matter how very desperately he wanted to. With a clenched fist, he pulled his loose bag close to his chest like a shield. "Just leave me alone." Just walk away, just leave me be, he repeated over and over in his head while he made for the exit.

xx

Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 10

@Evelynn Decipio

Evelynn Decipio wrote: 29 May 2024, 18:53

⋖ 19/Apr/2024 @ late afternoon? | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Finnegan Connor | MENTIONING n/a
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As much as Evelynn also often wished for the ability to simply fade into the background and disperse as though her presence had never fully materialized in the first place, this was not one of those moments. Counter to Finnegan's hope, his singular roommate did not vanish into the stale air of their locker room. Instead, she remained staunchly in place, arms folded over her chest and head tilted as eyes continued their scrutinizing appraisal. It was rare for her to impose upon the boundaries of another, but when she did, it was because she had deemed it necessary. It was certainly necessary now. The flippant denial dripping from his claim to finery etched that fact in stoned as deeply as the lines of disapproval that quirked the corner of her mouth.

"Mn.." she hummed, brow cocking. She had long ago given up on trying to correct his use of our when describing her dorm. That low derision continued, rising not to his attempt at levity. Not with regard to his intent to dismiss her concern with japes about their residence, anyway. At the mention of her position being entirely separate from that of his mother, however, she did release an nasally sort of scoff. "No," she allowed, expression still void of smile or hint of amusement, but softened slightly. "I am not your mother. And, of course, you have told your mother everything, mn? Informed her of the happenings of the ball and the injuries you sustained?"

Given the dryness of her tone, the sarcasm she employed may not initially have been entirely clear, but it was certainly there. He was a muggleborn. That was one of the first things she had ever learned about him. And as it happened, she had a certain understanding of what those whose lives had been upended by the discovery of the magical world experienced on a daily basis. She knew the rope that such pupils continuously walked, teetering on the fine line of just how much of their new lives they could safely share with their parents and family and friends. It was meant to be secret, after all. There were strict rules to abide by when it came to what could and could not be said. But the secrecy wasn't the real issue...

"Because I know I certainly have not." Her voiced softened, whatever sardonic tone that may previously have been detected vanishing. A hush fell between them then, the elder pupil taking a moment as though to try to silently impart a significance of what she had just said. "It can be lonely," she continued. "And morally distressing," she allowed with a shrug of her brow. "Lies by omission, building upon themselves one by one until your entire existence is a pantomime of the hopeful anticipation held for that sacred moment upon initial introduction into this world--before the veil is raised and reality rears its head. There is no turning back, and every step forward chips away another piece."

She paused, shoulders rising with a slow breath. It pained her to see him like that. To see anyone like that. Physical injury could be healed with nary a sign that anything had transpired in the first place, but the emotional scars imparted did not fade so easily. He shouldn't have been hurt. The whole reason she had attended the ball in the first place was to prevent anyone from falling prey. She was supposed to protect them. To keep them shielded. All she had wanted to was to allow them to keep hold of that innocence for a little while longer. There had been no way for her to know that he had attended, to predict what had happened, but it didn't matter. She had failed him. She had failed all of them.

"I should have warned you.." She whispered, gaze dropping to the bench between them. Why was it so hard? Even now, teetering on the edge of her apology, it was like a vice clamped her tongue the moment she neared the topic encapsulating the school's growing reputation. It was as though to speak it would will it into being. Guilt gnawed at her. She swallowed. Time and again, those who drew near to her found themselves injured. And yet, her defense had softened. "I should have told you to stay away.." He had pressed into her space and taken residence in the confines of her influence, and she had done nothing to stop it. "It is my fault that this happened to you.."

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STA | 10‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ STR | 2‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ EVA | 15‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ WIS | 15‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ARC | 10‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ACC | 13
keen eye fearless impartial wandmaker animagus

🅵 I N N E G A Nxx🅲 O N N O R
xxxGRYFFINDOR SECOND YEAR GRYFFINDOR LOCKER ROOM

It's dead easy 19th of April 2024

xx

He wished he had the courage to stomp off to a quiet, lonely place where he could sort things out. But where could he go? Taking refuge in his dormitory wasn't an option—she could just follow him there, and she wasn't likely to let him roam about the castle alone either. Yet while she spoke, he inched ever closer to the door until he gripped the weathered brass handle with one hand and steadied the loose bag hanging from his shoulder with the other. Couldn't she tell that he was tired, that he just wanted to be left in peace? Why were girls so impossible? Why did she have to be so nosy? Just when he had decided to push ahead and ignore the fifth-year, and hopefully shake her off, she had to bring up his mum. "...Of course, you have told your mother everything, haven't you? Informed her of the happenings of the ball and the injuries you sustained?" He turned around so fast that his bag swung around and banged against the wooden door. "What do you care?" Snarling like a cornered animal, he glowered at her, his face reddening and brows furrowing in righteous indignation. In a twist of irony, he now seemed closer to jumping her rather than fleeing her prying and prodding. It was like she had flicked her nails at a tight coil that now violently unwound itself, snapping back at her. "A panto-what?" What on earth was she on about? Why couldn't she just speak plainly? Did she enjoy making him feel stupid for not understanding a word that was coming out of her mouth? If reciting free-form poetry to him was her attempt at trying to relate, she had entirely misjudged him. Unsure if he ought to be offended, he remained frozen to the spot, affording her the time to complete the toxic brew of confusion and anger with what she said next. "I should have warned you... I should have told you to stay away... It is my fault that this happened to you.” His hand fell from the door handle until it hung loosely by his side. What was that supposed to mean? The implication was too immense to let go. For days, he had been starved for answers; he had spent countless sleepless nights twisting and turning in bed, grasping at straws in the dark for a shred of clarity, and now here she stood, dangling the keys to all he needed to know in front of his face. Boiling over, he dropped his bag and halved the distance between them in a few brisk steps. With flared nostrils and clenched fists at his sides, he paced towards her. Just a week ago, such an intrusion would have been unthinkable—or perhaps better put, he wouldn’t have dared. But desperation had stripped him of his usual caution, and now he was willing to go further than ever before. "What do you mean you should have warned me?" he demanded, his voice shaking with a gnawing need to know. "What do you know about what happened that night?" He stepped closer. "Do you know who did it?" Another step before his eyes reduced to mere slits. "You could have said something" He gave her no moment to interrupt or evade while he searched her eyes for any flicker of truth. "Why is it your fault? What’s so important—why—" His voice cracked, pain and anger wrenching each word from his throat. Unless she had the reflexes to dodge or otherwise stop him, his hands would shoot forward, shoving her back against the locker. Every instinct went against lashing out at her, she could turn him into a heap of ash with but a flick of her wand, she probably didn't even need her wand to best him, but right now he didn't care. All he wanted was to shake her like an apple tree until all the answers had fallen from the canopy.

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Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 10

⋖ 19/Apr/2024 @ late afternoon? | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Finnegan Connor | MENTIONING n/a
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Evelynn certainly could tell that the young Mister Connor was tired. She Didn't need to be told he had wanted to be left in peace. Every day that passed brought his appearance closer to that of a raccoon; and his rabid defensiveness to her prying left his desire for solitude unquestionable. That was exactly why she was here. He couldn't be left alone. He couldn't be left to wallow and decay, life seeping from him at a rate unacceptable for one so curious and annoying as he was. As he was supposed to be.

Perhaps there was a part of her that resented the absence of someone to step in for her when she had been in position years ago. So much pain could have been avoided if she had been warned. Or at least aided and equipped along the way. If there had been someone looking out for her. But she'd had to learn the hard way. She had sustained scars that would never heal no matter how much Unctuous Unction she employed. He would not fall victim to the same. It was his own fault. He had made his bed when he hadn't left the dorm. Now he would sleep in it. So help her, he would sleep.

His movement towards the door had been met with her pushing off from the locker and a step towards him. No intervention to stop him from leaving, per se, but certainly a not so subtle suggestion that if he did take his leave, she was likely to dog his steps and follow. Snappy remarks slid off her shoulders; his anger and confusion, mirrored with empathy and veiled shame. Never-the-less, she groped tentatively at relief when his hand fell away from the door and he turned to face her properly, even though it meant him asking questions that were not easily answered. Questions Evelynn might not have been ready to answer.

Lips parted to answer the first question launched. But a second came before she could. And a third. Finnegan's voice warbled, the canvas of his countenance painted with obvious signs of anguish. It was clear that he was freshly hurting now. Her words had lifted a scab that had finally formed, renewing the flow of blood. But the spite that dripped with his words, the way he stalked aggressively forward, only supplemented the notion that the wound--in whatever state of healing it may have been--had festered. It needed to be opened. And if that meant she had to absorb some of the toxin, she would.

Just had been the case many times before now when others had raised their fists or wands against her, Evelynn offered no resistance. His hands would connect. There was no more strength behind them than what she was capable, and he stood at a height significantly smaller than herself, but she hadn't braced. It would prove more than enough to overbalance her, the senior forced to take a step back to catch herself, but never-the-less clanging loudly against the lockers, breath expelled in a constrained grunt.

"The reason I was there at all was to protect them..." She hadn't rebalanced after he'd pushed her, instead sliding slowly down the locker until she was closer to eye level. Her gaze was averted, but she forced it up to meet his. "I wanted to make sure everyone could actually enjoy themselves for once. I did not account for you being there. I did not know to watch for you, or even what to look for. I did not account for a covert assault. I erred. I was tasked to keep harm from befalling." She swallowed, chest rising and falling with a few prolonged breaths to keep the swell of prickling salt at bay, though her eyes took on a glassy sheen regardless. "And I failed." Lips pulled in over her lips to press together for a moment before releasing. "That is why the fault is mine."

"The truth is, Finnegan.." Her gaze had dropped, but she pulled it back again. "These events... the balls and dances... whenever students gather in large numbers... they tend to go poorly. Or rather, they used to. There has been a lull for the last year. I had been hopeful nothing of significance would transpire. But there have been cases where mosps have swarmed, or horrifically enchanted dolls have caused problems, or someone thought it amusing to spike the beverages with potions of various effects." Not wanting to traumatize her junior further with specifics, she softened some of the details and avoided more horrific events altogether.

"Strange things sometimes happen, though when they do, it has always been obvious in the moment. As it was with Warren. He was acting oddly. I tried to wa--" Her voice cracked with a renewed wave of guilt, before clearing her throat to carry past it. "That situation could have--should have--been contained without injury." She shook her head, fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. "I never would have expected what happened to you. I underestimated them. I am so sorry."

🅵 I N N E G A Nxx🅲 O N N O R
xxxGRYFFINDOR SECOND YEAR GRYFFINDOR LOCKER ROOM

It's dead easy 19th of April 2024

xx

BANG! His hand, palm-first, rattled the metal sheet right next to her ear. I shouldn't be angry with her, she let me shove her, I shouldn't have. The thoughts came and went like flicking through the pages of a book, only faintly registering the words printed there without grasping their meaning. Finnegan stared at her without seeing, his face twisted into an ugly scowl. A mirthless laugh escaped him. "You're sorry?" he sneered. Now his eyes roved over her, preying on her momentary weakness. "Who do you think you're protecting, huh? You're not protecting anyone, you're just a kid, like everyone else!" Just as suddenly as he'd pounced, he let go of her and backed away. "Let me..." he said, squinting in concentration before putting a hand to his forehead as though staving off a headache. "Let me get this straight, right? These accidents have happened before?" The more he tried to make sense of it, the more he realised how little she had truly told him. Who were they, the people she claimed to have underestimated? Why had he not heard of dolls or swarms before now? And what of the Professors? Did they know? Did they care? The ones that had come rushing to his aid had seemed taken off guard, but now that he thought about it, how many of them had been around for more than a year? He could count on one hand the number of Professors whose tenure exceeded his own time at Hogwarts. Sinking down on the nearest bench, he glowered at Evelynn from across the room. She was doing it again, treating him like a little kid. He'd been gored yet she seemed set on giving him glimpse of the summary of the cliffnotes of what had really happened. Or maybe she just thought he was too stupid and immature to understand, she wouldn't be the first. Yet for all her cleverness, she seemed oblivious to her own lapse in her reasoning. Did he really have to spell out the glaring, obvious mistake in her apologetic reasoning to Evelynn? She was clever and precise, impeccable and punctual to a fault, a skilled witch and a talented seeker, yet at this moment, she might as well have been trying to earnestly convince him the earth was flat. "Maybe," he started through gritted teeth. "Maybe you could have done all that and been the hero you desperately want to be if you'd told me." He paused for a short while, gauging her response. "Or if you'd told anyone else you were looking to," he airquoted, "protect. Because you know what, heat returned to his voice now. "I don't even like dancing, I was just there for the snacks. If you'd told me it'd be dangerous, if you'd said anything, anything at all, maybe I wouldn't have come, maybe Rebecca wouldn't have either, and we'd both still be OK. Maybe Dralt would still have his eye, did you think about that? Are you sorry about that?" He shrugged, but the drop of his shoulder was too sudden and too sharp to be considered callous. " But what do I know? I'm just a clueless, helpless kid who still struggles with basic charms. You want to know the truth?" He reflected her own words back at her, crossing his arms over his chest. "The truth is, you let all of this happen. You knew the danger, you knew all along, but you said nothing. You let it all happen just so you could swoop in at the last moment. That's what this is about, isn't it? It's all about you. Because you're so bloody perfect and admirable and we should all be so grateful to have you protecting us." Venom laced his voice. "You're not sorry about what happened, you're just sorry it didn't pan out the way you wanted." The strain in his voice was almost palpable. He needed air, space to breathe. He needed out. Like a bull preparing to charge, he flared his nostrils, jumped up, grabbed his bag, and headed towards the exit. This time, he pushed down on the handle, even cracked the door open before halting one final time. His face had gone bright red, his eyes puffy, swollen, and glistening. Up until that point, he had sounded bitter, anger simmering below the surface like lava bubbling up into cracks and crevices before a violent eruption. Tasked to keep harm from befalling? What a joke! Did she even hear what she was saying? "You're a selfish cunt!" BANG! The door slammed shut behind him. She could wallow and drown and suffocate in her stew of self-pity for all he cared. She was wrong, and he was right, and it was about bloody time someone told her to her face! Why couldn't she just leave him alone? Why did she have to bring it up? He pressed his sleeves to his eyes, hating that she'd seen him on the verge of tears, hating that he hadn't walked away sooner. Where could he go? Who could he turn to? Stepping into the Great Hall as a snivelling mess was out of the question, and so was going to Ravenclaw tower. People would see him, quite possibly recognise him as "that boy" and peg him as some poor, wounded animal to be pitied. Without meaning to, he had stomped his way up a flight of winding stairs. When he halted and had dried his eyes enough to find his bearings, he realised he had made it to the second floor. He groped around in his pockets until he found his wand and aimed it squarely, accusingly, at the nearest classroom door. "Alohomora," he incanted through gritted teeth, half-expecting the charm to fail. Yet the door swung open with a satisfying click, baring its dark and empty bowels. He didn't bother to cast a wand-lighting charm, didn't even bother to shut the door properly behind him. He dropped his bag on the floor, strode over to the nearest seat, dropped his head on the desk, and let out a deep, shaky breath. He couldn't even hear himself think through the rush of blood sounding in his ears.

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Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 10

@Evelynn Decipio

⋖ 19/Apr/2024 @ late afternoon? | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Finnegan Connor | MENTIONING n/a
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A blinking flinch accompanied the slam of a palm to the lockers, the weight of the gaze laid upon her too heavy for her to lift her eyes. She was his senior by at least three years, but in that moment, he may as well have been right. What had she accomplished? What sort of benefit had been derived from her preparatory efforts? Who had been protected? No difference had been made by her presence at the dance. The night could have been spent in her dorm with her nose in a book for all the good her talk had done. She hadn't spared anyone.

The boy backed off, pressure and shadows lifting from her with his retreat, coalescing upon his position. In its absence, the void called, tempting in its offer to accept the shedding of her mantle. Anger, grief, guilt... it would be so easy to discard them all, to rid herself of the suffocating maelstrom that stormed within her heart, battering once again at her resolve and self-worth. She swallowed, brows furrowing, lips pulled in over her teeth to press together as she cast her gaze to the ceiling and took a steadying breath.

"These accidents have happened before?"

Gaze still cast towards the heavens as though seeking guidance through the obfuscation of the ceiling, she nodded subtly. "In a way..." Though it turned into a small shake of her head, her expression contorting into one of confusion and uncertainty. "But dissimilar to what transpired at last week... And not for some time..." Her gaze had settled on the boy again, hollow, drained, with a sort of far off look that suggested that she might not quite have been all there.

It still didn't make sense to her, what had happened. Warren's behaviour was just so odd—inconsistent with anything that had been seen in the past, unless he had been under control. But for what purpose? And what of the pupil that had stabbed Connor? There did not even seem to be any consistent story as to the identity of the perpetrator. Various names had been circulating, though Gidean Athanatos and Astra Norrick seemed to be the two most common. But why? For what purpose? And why now, after all this time? How did Connor fit into it all? Why him? Or was it just random happenstance that he happened to be the victim, shoes that could equally have been filled by anyone else—wrong place at the wrong time? And for what was Warren digging? Were the two events connected? The questions had been circulating her thoughts since the night in question, and Evelynn was no closer to answering any of them now than she was then.

Pulled from the inner machinations of her mind as Connor spoke up again, Evelynn found him slumped upon the nearest bench.

"Maybe you could have done all that and been the hero you desperately want to be if you'd told me."

"Maybe," she allowed, shrugging a brow, having neither the energy to argue nor the desire to incite further confrontation with regard to his claim on her desire to play at hero, which really couldn't be much farther from the truth. The spotlight was never something for which she vied, a truth she learned very quickly in her role as seeker. Recognition had only ever been a negative experience. When the performance was excellent and to the joy of everyone else, it was taken for granted. The bar could only be raised, not lowered. In times of trial, when a loss was on the horizon, eyes turned to the star to secure victory. Expectation was heavy; the weight made it difficult, at times, to become airborne. And when a loss inevitably came, it was she who was to blame.

No... anonymity was much kinder. There, in the shadows, focus could be cast where it was needed, not on the appeasement of others. She needed no exaltation. She did not want to be idealized. With broken rules and struggles to sleep, the way she self-isolated for the benefit of others and meddled in affairs that likely ought not to be meddled in, hers was not the example to follow. But lest they all remain ignorant sheep in a herd for the slaughter, someone had to walk that path. It hadn't always been her alone; and perhaps there were others even now of whom she was not—yet—aware. But they were gone now. Those who knew most, who grew close... they disappeared. How was she supposed to explain that?

As the boy's words tore into her, rolling to hammer at her exposed underside, Evelynn retreated into herself. The lines on her face smoothed, the occasional flinches and grimaces ceased, and her gaze fixed forward nearly unblinking. As the heat of his voice rose, she welcomed it like fingers dancing through the flame of an open candle. His words stung, but superficially, fading as quickly as they landed. Nothing that he said was anything she hadn't already been thinking a hundred times over during the past week. The longer he went off, the easier it became, perhaps owed to the obviously erroneous assumptions. When he jumped up from the bench, she didn't move to stop him. She listened as his steps tromped towards the exit, how they paused when the handle turned. There was no need to look at him to know what he must have looked like; it was evident in the tone of his speech, and the choice of words. At his final dismissal, she could only shake her head and smile bitterly at herself, choking down the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spite her.

For several moments after the last of the echoes from the slamming door had faded from the stalls, she remained where she was, leaned against the lockers. Thunder interrupted the ensuing silence, filling the room with restless rattling, the accompanying rain dousing any lingering flames of contempt. With a heavy sigh, Evelynn pushed herself to her feet, resigning herself to the elements. It couldn't end like this. She wasn't perfect. Or admirable. And she certainly didn't want anyone's gratitude. Besides. He needed an outlet. He'd been attacked and there were no answers. Sleepless nights hounded him, altering his perception and ability to process information. It was only reasonable that his emotions would be high. Unlike her, he didn't have trees to shred; and if he needed to vent, she would sooner be the target than anyone else. At least then, it would be deserved.

She followed after him, rain beading to roll gently from auburn fur. With vision limited by the torrential downpour and her delay—however relatively brief—in following after him, Evelynn hadn't been able to spot him from the locker room and couldn't have been certain where he had stormed off to. But she could still track him by scent, padding silently after him until she could catch a glimpse within reach of the castle, the relative absence of students braving the less-than-amiable weather allowing her to creep unseen right up near to the entrance before having to shift back. From there, it was as easy as following the fresh trail of dripping water.

Near the entrance of the classroom, she hesitated. Had it been her in there, any pursuant would need to be prepared to be hexed if they had followed her after she'd already attempted to create space. Given the level of his displeasure, she couldn't be certain Connor wouldn't try to do the same. A risk she would have to take, she supposed. As slowly and unobtrusively as possible, Evelynn stepped into the frame of the door, countenance devoid of expression, turning just enough to lean back against the frame, hands folded one over the other behind the small of her back. Hair and clothing were damp, but not sodden and dripping wet. She didn't say anything right away, taking the moment to gauge his reaction and prepare to dodge a curse if necessary. If it didn't look like he was about to attack or verbally blow up at her again, she would ask simply, "What would you like to know?"

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
２ＮＤ ＹＥＡＲＧＲＹＦＦＩＮＤＯＲ

The Thread 1st of September 2024

xx

Ｒain and wind battered the windows in sheets. The shutter on the tall, dark windows rattled in their hinges, squeaking and banging while the wind howled and howled, begging to enter. A crack and boom turned the classroom black-and-white, a moment of perfect clarity. Then all was dark again. She deserves it, he thought, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.She knew about the danger and didn't tell anyone. She's right, it's her fault, it's all her fault. But even as the angry thoughts swirled like a tempest in his mind, he knew that wasn't fair.You shouldn't have called her that, a small voice said.She was only trying to help. Finnegan huddled in the gloom, his robes clinging to him like a second, clammy skin. His insides twisted and churned, promising another tiring, sleepless night ahead of him. What if Evelynn never spoke to him again? What if she told Professor Browne? He'd already gotten in trouble for smaller things. Shoving her and calling her names could get him another detention-or worse. He was lucky she wasn't a prefect anymore. Sniffling, he grabbed two fistfuls of hair and pulled at the messy, dark clumps, trying to squeeze some sense out of them. What he wouldn't give for just one night of dreamless sleep. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it lasted. He was so tired of it all. I didn't mean to hurt her... You shoved her! I didn't want- You blamed her. You called her a cunt! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! She doesn't even like you, why would she? You're stupid and annoying. She hates you now. She'll always hate you. The creak of a floorboard cut through the noise. Finnegan's head snapped up, heart leaping into his throat as Evelynn's silhouette materialized in the doorway. For a heartbeat, hot irritation flared in his chest. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? But then confusion doused the spark that could've set off another fight. How had she found him so quickly? Another bolt of lighting slashed across the sky. Her shadow stretched long across the floor, her robes hanging heavy with rain, her usually perfect hair a tangled mess. She didn't look like the unflappable prefect he'd met at his first Summer Camp, but more like someone as lost and miserable as he felt. The realization that she had tracked him through the tempest hit him like a bludger. After all he'd said and done, after all his thankless accusations and assumptions, she had still not given up on him. Maybe she wants revenge. His left hand dropped off the edge of the desk, fingers hovering near his wand, just in case. ❛What would you like to know?❜ Her voice was quiet, barely audible over the raging storm. Finnegan glowered at her, his eyes stinging as if he'd been flying through sleet. What did he want to know? Everthing. How could he even begin to ask when he didn't even know what he didn't know? Sighing, he buried his face in his arms, his sleeves damp and smelling of rain. His fingers curled against the desk, nails scraping furrows in the worn wood. He wanted to know, he wanted to forget; he wanted to scream, he wanted to sleep; he wanted to be left alone, he wanted to be held. He stood up, leaning heavily on the desk and ran the back of his hand across his face. Like plodding through a foggy swamp he stumbled toward her, sniffling.❛Evelynn...❜ he croaked, when he finally reached her. His knees buckled and he tipped over toward her. If she didn't recoil and jump back, he would bury his face in her robes and try to say something. It didn't matter. The feeble, shaky noises he made would be drowned out by storm.

xx

Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 10

⋖ 19/Apr/2024 @ late afternoon? | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Finnegan Connor | MENTIONING n/a
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With her arrival, the boy turned his eyes in her direction, his glare barely discernable in the dim except those infrequent moments reflected by the flash of lightning. He said nothing at first, and though his hand had moved to drop off the end of the desk, nothing came of it. Weariness was evident in his features, his countenance almost skeletal when cast into stark relief by the tempestuous heavens. Evidently, even anger was too burdensome to hold onto.

The corners of Evelynn's lips downturned as his head settled to bury in his arms. He appeared much like she had felt over the past year. Hollow and fragile, spiting the world from which he tried to hide, but restlessly clawing at purchase all the same lest he begin a descent from which there would be no rising. Decorum might suggest that she take her leave and respect his peace, but the lioness was far past that. At some point on her journey to follow after him, a decision had been made that she would not leave him to the shadows, even if it meant dancing at the edge of his retaliatory reach, she would remain. And so she did, in the silence of the portal, respecting what meager defenses he had raised and the distance that he'd sought.

When he rose, Evelynn's gaze shifted to him. It wasn't until the sniffled croaking of her name, however, that she straightened, fingers bracing against the wooden frame at the small of her back to ease herself off of it. Her movement was swift when the boy staggered, arms sweeping to catch him around his arms, her body settling with his in a controlled lowering to their knees just within the door. In a gesture quite departed from her typical image, the lioness held him to her, one arm wrapping tightly around his shoulders, the other cupping the back of his head. Though not before gingerly closing the door and withdrawing her wand from her sleeve just long enough to whisper, "muffliato", before loading it back into its launcher. It was a gesture once provided to her that she'd greatly appreciated after the fact. Perhaps the same could be said for Finnegan. At least this way, he wouldn't have to be later burdened about who may or may not have overheard him.

And like that she would remain, saying nothing, doing nothing other than her best to provide the comfort that Finnegan clearly needed. It was exciting to be part of the wizarding world, to be granted the rare and exceptional opportunity to be able to study magic at one of the world's most prestigious institutions. But they were still children. When events turned south, and trauma reared its head, there were no warm embraces to welcome them home, or parental comforts to chase away their nightmares. They had a choice: to traverse their torment alone, or to rely on their peers. Given the pain her inaction had inflicted upon him, Evelynn would do whatever she had to do to fill that role if that was what Finnegan required of her.