Continued from Spin #8

@Evelynn Decipio | mentioning Aly, Aaron, Cassius, Amina (@Ileen Knight)

Hermits have no peer pressure. - Steven Wright

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	Pericles put the floor of whirling faces and awkward tensions behind him. He had broken away from the Mistletoe Spin after claims of getting a drink, but even with focus fixed on the refreshments, his mind was still stuck in the dance. Aly should have told him this was going to be one of those silly "kiss roulette" events. Why hadn't she told him? Either she thought it would be funny- which it was, a little- or because she knew he wouldn't have come. The realization staggered his step, a sliver of guilt pricking his heart. He was here to spend time with his friends, and now he was ditching early. Only, he hadn't been with them all night. He'd wound up with Aaron, who he had underhandedly threatened out of extreme bias loyalty to Aly. Cassius, who sort of stood about. Percival, who he left hanging with this sudden departure. Then there was the Durmstrang girl. Amina.... Her name was bound to still-fresh phantom feelings- the weight of a hand on his shoulder, warmth as a bow slipped across his palm, the soft press of an evaded kiss to the base of his chin. Rubbing gloved fingers along the column his throat didn't seem to rid him of it. Her words tangled up his thoughts and tugged something loose, leaving him wondering what it would be like to have someone look him in the eye, call him handsome, say that they loved him and actually mean it all. That was just the trouble with these snog parties, though. They were a game, and he had been played. Pericles swallowed down a groan of frustration. It wasn't as thought she'd done anything wrong, it was his fault for not playing along. The next question to commandeer his mind was why hadn't he? Clearly none in attendance overthought it half as much as he had. She had the right idea, indulging in harmless fun with strangers, scattering flowery platitudes that didn't have to mean anything. Was he naive for wanting them to? A killjoy? A prude. Peri didn't want to go back and spoil Aly's event with his unwillingness to participate, let alone this bizarre crisis of identity. Perhaps he shouldn't have come in the first place. He needed to be alone with his thoughts in order to sort them out, maybe ditch the extravagant costume and go for a flight. Bypassing the drinks altogether, he let the music fade into the backdrop, troubled scowl illuminated by the candles on his shoulders. They flickered while he walked, weaving streams of illusory smoke in his wake.
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⋖ 02/Aug/2024 @ evening | OUTFIT | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Pericles Dralt | MENTIONING @Aly Salinger @Amina Petrov
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Light and music quickly faded as Evelynn departed from the checkered dancefloor in favour of the growing darkness of night. One last look was cast back over her shoulder towards a somewhat vacant looking @Aly Salinger. Vacant was better than fuming, she supposed, though Evelynn hoped there wouldn't be any lingering resentment from the Ravenclaw for now two of her tentmates departing early from the event the Eagles' seeker had invested so much time and effort into planning. Surely, the dance was almost over though, Evelynn reasoned, rationalizing away whatever threads of guilt may have been impeding her departure. Besides... this was necessary.

Attention returning to the gathering shadows, Evelynn squinted for any sign of white amidst the void. The initial trail wasn't hard to track, but she hadn't seen where the boy had gone after he'd slipped from immediate sight. Not that this troubled her much. When the trail went cold and she caught herself glancing first one way between a set of tents, and another between more, the lioness traded one sense for another. Grass that had pressed flat beneath the flats of her shoes soon submitted to leather paws as she assumed a form more geared for the hunt. Nostrils flared gently as she scented at the air and then the ground, searching for that familiar smell. One that was altogether too subtle once mixed with the more pungent aromas of blooming youth, discarded food and camp shenanigans..

Discontent rumbled throatily as she padded her way in and amongst the tents until she caught just the slightest whiff of something. Bounding back in her tracks to double check, she quieted her grumbling. Black tea. There it was. And mixed with the faintest tang of the hair pomade of which he'd made good use in preparation for the ball, and burning wax that she could only attribute to his uniform, she was certain it was the correct target. Silent as the shadows that cloaked her, Evelynn trotted after it, easily closing in now that she'd found the trail.

A gentle chattering heralded her approach, and a densely furred shoulder brushed against his thigh as warning of her arrival before she transitioned back to her natural form beside him. At least for those select few within her animagus circle--which, really, amounted pretty much only to Pericles--she made an effort not to just suddenly appear, but rather give the courtesy of warning to her arrival. "You left early..." A simple observation. Not an accusation, but a statement to indicate that his absence had been noted.

If he kept his ambling, she would fall into pace beside him, hands slipping into the pockets of her gown. "Are you unwell?" A glance darted back over her shoulder in the direction of where they'd come, though able to see only a vaguely distant glow over a shadowed horizon of tents. She pulled her attention back to Pericles.

"Was it that girl?" It was decidedly difficult to keep the chilly edge from her tone as images of the ballerina flashed to the forefront of her thoughts. "She was not..." She debated whether to broach the subject. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the recollection that the embrace had not exactly been one-sided, and perhaps she was treading a path she had no business being. But after having encountered Pierre's unwelcome host only months prior, she couldn't be too uncertain; and she would be damned if she let Pericles fall one of those parasites. "...infected...was she? When you... kissed...--" She tried to address the interaction as though it was nothing of consequence. "--there was no slug, was there?"

@Evelynn Decipio

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	So stuck in his head was he that Pericles- who made a point to live perceptively at all times- hadn't realized he was being tracked. Those feline trills turned him on a heel, eyes wide and pupil flickering at the familiar sight of a stalking cat. "Eve" was sighed in surprise and solace alike. The eagle hadn't yet interpreted what he was feeling, but it felt a bit like losing one's mind. Eve was the first and last person he wanted to see him in such a state. Her company offered sanctuary from the maelstrom of thoughts, and for a blissful second after she resumed human form, she was all he could think about. The light of his candles caught in her crown and collar, both brow and throat aglow with ethereal shimmers. Peri's posture softened, limbs lax and head canted, open body language that welcomed her instinctively. "You left early..." Caught in the act of slipping away, he shrugged with his hands before folding them together, stance stiffening. They painted a picture of an altruistic queen assessing a guard who had shirked his duties. "I did. I'm sorry." "Are you unwell?" The trouble resurfaced, evolving into the fear that she would somehow affirm his hormone-driven insecurities. Would she find him childish, or snobbish? Would she think less of him? How could he possibly explain his overwhelm to Eve without sounding thin-skinned? Pericles forced an uneasy smile, quick to console her into thinking he was fine. "No, nothing quite like that, though I'm glad you came to check on me. These 'snog roulettes' are just-...." Derogative. He held them in contempt, and in their similarities, presumed Eve felt the same. That was the moment when, for the length of a breath, his keen eye moved to her mouth of its own volition. The faintest smudge of lipstick here, a trace of a different shade there. Realization set in as a dizzying sensation, like losing the air in his chest all at once. The question of who crawled its way up his throat only to be bit back. It wasn't his business who Eve decided to toy with. He wouldn't wonder why it bothered him, instead denying the emotion altogether, chastising himself for foolish thinking. Hadn't he wanted her to get out of her shell and reconnect with others? Who was he to say "not like that?" It wasn't his business. At least one of them knew how to act at these events. The turmoil lasted only an instant: a pause, a glance, and his expression of delicate reassurance abruptly smoothed into absolute neutrality. Pericles donned the uncaring mask like armor. Whatever mocking term he was about to assign Kiss Roulette was swapped out for "...not my 'thing'." "Was it that girl?" Oh, grand. Had Eve seen that clumsy interaction...? Pericles might have been abashed were it not for the frigid, twisting aggravation overriding everything else. Instead, he feigned ignorance, offering only the sardonic arch of an eyebrow. "She was not... infected... was she? When you... kissed... there was no slug, was there?" Somehow slugs were the least of his worries, and the irrationality didn't end there. A baffled echo of "When we-" was cut off by a suddenly sullen "I didn't kiss anyone at that dance." As soon as the slip of venom left his lips, he started to self-correct, moving on in hopes that Eve would overlook it. Merlin, why was he so angry? He needed air was all. There was too much on his mind at once. Is this how she felt when he came chasing after her all the time? Glad, irritable, torn. He snorted a steadying breath before revising, "Amina didn't do anything wrong. She was very clear about what she had in mind, but these sort of things just..." his eyes flickered to and away from her mouth once more, his own souring into a grimace, tone trailing into remorseful distraction as he reiterated "...aren't for me. I'm going for a flight. Alone. You oughtn't deprive yourself on my account."
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⋖ 02/Aug/2024 @ evening | OUTFIT | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Pericles Dralt | MENTIONING @Amina Petrov @Ileen Knight
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Any concern that her presence would be unwanted was quickly quelled. A relaxed frame and shift in posture in her direction welcomed Evelynn closer, a slight but relieved smile briefly touching her lips. "Why are you sorry?" An arch of a brow had met the Eagle's stiffening posture, a cant of her head making clear that she felt no reason that he need be sorry for taking his leave. She was not there to shame him for it. Regardless, she didn't dwell on it. What she did narrow in on was the uneasy smile he'd flashed when she'd asked of his health. A scrutinizing gaze had flicked from his mouth to his eye, fixing it with an unblinking and unbroken look as she tried to read beyond what felt like superficial platitudes to whatever lay beyond. Something was off, of that she was certain. His shield prevented her from seeing what, exactly, but she could see the deflection. At least until he'd expressed his gratitude for her trailing after him.

If the easy appreciation had been intended to throw her off and hinder her appraisal, it worked. She blinked. "You are?" The question of why loaded itself to be spoken, but opportunity would not quite present as he continued his train of thought. Still, it left her wondering into the reason of his apparent gladness. To her, that only seemed to support the notion that there was something wrong. Although another possibility jeered from the shadowy recesses of thought, that perhaps the point hadn't been in his leaving the Spin, but in hers. A furrow of brows reflected the uneasiness of that notion, eyes drawn away from Pericles to quickly survey the darkness surrounding them. She hadn't noticed anyone else in their immediate vicinity on her approach... Nor, as a result, did she notice the trek his own glance had taken in the interim.

What she did notice upon the return of her gaze to Pericles, however, was that the expression of gentle congeniality she'd been studying only moments previous was gone; in its place, a mask of indifference. The shift, particularly in the context of the intrusive paranoia, was jarring, prompting further inquiry. Neither verbal affirmation nor denial would follow the implication of the Durmstrang girl's involvement, however. He simply lofted a brow at her. As though he knew something she did not. There may as well have been cracks forming in the earth between them, a chasm shuddering into a slowly widening division of the pair for the way a chill crept up her spine. As though the warmth of the candles adorning his shoulders were being withheld. And she certainly didn't miss the carefully chosen emphasis that followed. Were it not for the vitriol in his tone, she may have allowed herself to believe he'd only meant that he hadn't been the one to initiate. That it had been the Durmstrang girl who'd kissed him.

Instead, Evelynn was left internally off balance, lips parted with a momentary loss of words. How could he even accuse her of that? Not that he was wrong. Perhaps it was because of that, that it stung all the more-so. To hear it from his lips, however indirectly, sounded so... unlike herself. But there was no denying that she had, in fact, kissed Aly. And Eden as well. Not that either had elicited that universal spark that peopled spoke of.. But how had he even known, she had to wonder. Had he not left? Or had he doubled back with some sort of sick fascination to spy on them in his absence, to monitor the outcome of the Spin? Confusion mixed with a tinge of betrayal on her features, entirely uncertain what to make of implication of his words. That sense of betrayal only worsened as his tone softened when he spoke of the girl.

No, not the girl. Amina. Evidently they were on a first-name basis. Amina. The name made her think of Amanita, the genus of fungus that contained some of the most toxic mushrooms worldwide. She tried to keep the sour from her expression, consolation found in the darkness that would help to mute her reactions. How was she even to interpret that? Clear what she had in mind. Yes, obviously it was clear. How could snogging on the dancefloor and her subsequent flush not be clear. Evelynn's gut twisted uncomfortably, the corner of her lip twitching at the momentary but very satisfying vision of an Amina consumed with a fresh wave of blemishes. What wasn't for him? Displaying it all so openly? Had he hoped it was Amina that would follow him off the floor so they could continue where they'd left off, away from prying eyes?

Thoughts continued to weave and spiral, trying to make sense of what seemed--to her--to be very contradictory words and reactions. She didn't even know where to begin to try to unravel and make sense of it. And before she could try, he grimaced, an expression of what looked like contempt shot at her. Winded, it was all she could do to keep solid footing in the snow, a false sense of sway threatening to coax her off-balance. I'm going for a flight. Lips parted for one last attempt at clarity, with every intention to try to swat away what could only be some sort of gross misunderstanding. Alone. Then closed. Claws raked at her throat, making any complex speech impossible. By the time she could swallow down the discomfort and break through with a modicum of composure, all she could manage was an hollow, "Fine." Skirts whispered against the snow, as she turned on the spot, the weight of their sodden state suddenly very apparent. She couldn't leave fast enough. In an instant, all concern for him had vanished, replaced with a singular desire to be anywhere but there.

@Evelynn Decipio

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	Pericles' inner turmoil had boiled over. Tumultuous thoughts carried off an otherwise steady sensibility, assumptions and feelings and hormones clashing as they collectively came to a head. He was attached to Eve- terribly fond of, he would say. There was comfort in their similarities. Yet in this moment of self-doubt, when the sense of "otherness" drove him into isolation, all it took was a contrast in conduct for him to feel more alone with her company than without. A combined Keen Eye and overactive imagination were typically tools of survival. Pericles was a hypervigilant thing, mind operating overtime to chart out possible avenues of misfortune, trying to navigate them with preparation and fortitude. Now every deduction led to the belief that Eve had snogged someone- possibly multiple someones- while he couldn't handle a kiss from the pretty foreign girl. Some dark little voice in the back of his mind reasoned, of course it came easier to her. She hadn't been raised like he had. He was stuck in some bubble of propriety, too caught up in inherited ideals to stay in step with her this time. The chasm between them developed with the rapidity of a sinkhole: unexpected and devastating. That accusation wasn't remotely subtle, slipping past his lips before he had time to wonder why he was flinging it. And the way she looked at him with- guilt? Objection? Hurt. It wasn't his place, his rational side reiterated. So why did the assumption alone feel like salt in a wound? As Evelynn turned to storm off, Pericles remained rooted awhile longer, stunned by the way her Fine returned the icy energy of his Alone. He watched her leave, and this time he wouldn't give chase. His eye trailed her red curls until they were out of sight, expression rigid with nameless conflict, souring into an irritable scowl once he was alone. The teen spun and stalked towards their tent, breathing a targetless "Stupid". Whether he meant the dance, the argument, or himself was ambiguous even to Pericles. Teeth tugged the glove from his hand. Darting the tip of his tongue over thumb and forefinger, he started to snuff each candle, pinching the enchanted flames one by one. When the last sizzled out, he lured his wand from a sleeve and rested it against his right cheekbone, incanting "Colorvaria." The prosthetic's tin pattern reverted into the familiar black birthday gift. Try as he might to drive the exchange from his thoughts, Eve occupied his head in more ways than one.
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