| Aug 8th, late at night |

| @Evelynn Decipio |

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	Pericles awoke in an empty Express compartment. He jolted upright, rubbing a freckled cheek where the chill of the window had sunk into his skin. A snowy landscape blurred by outside. He watched for awhile, caught in the sense that he was meant to expect something, only to launch out of his seat as a metallic groan permeated the air. The windowpanes shuddered with the force of it. Profound helplessness flooded his chest. "No," he mumbled to no one in particular. "Not this one." Peri charged for the door and into the hall. To his left and to his right stretched a seemingly endless corridor. The compartment doors were dark, and from here, not even the sound of the train reached him. Only silence resonated in the air, broken by the faint shuffle of his boots as he turned to the left and drove onward. There was no means to tell how long nor how far he had walked. The doors repeated seamlessly, that is, until movement stirred beyond one while he passed. The boy tentatively turned to look inside. There, in a room full of smoke, sat an elderly woman with perfectly coiffed black hair. Her stare seemed cold, and when she beamed at him from within the cloud, he felt the leaden weight of dread sink into his stomach. Wordlessly, he pressed on. The hall gave way to a yawning blackness populated by white aspens. Their bark, clustered with eyes, twisted on the trunk to follow as he strode past. What first sounded like wind became disembodied whispers the longer he stayed. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he was certain that stopping to listen was unwise. At long last, a stone balustrade faded into view up ahead, and Pericles softened his step to a creeping pace. He wouldn't get into trouble if he was quiet. Gripping the top, he stood on the toes of his boots and peered over the edge into the entryway of his ancestral manor. The front door swung ajar to permit a pack of wolves. They moved strangely, each step smooth and silent, eyes casting beams of light that roamed around his household. He must have made a sound. One looked his way, and the others followed. Pericles tried to block the blinding light with his hand to no avail. He turned to bolt, only to collide with the wall that was his father, looking furious enough to spit. Of course he was. He had told Pericles not to leave his room. He wasn't meant to see them, or to be seen. Pericles staggered back, eyes wide when they locked with Isaac's glare, focus abruptly snagged by something in his hand. The undead's bony fingers were curled around a potion bottle. Silver and gold swirled within, glimmering layers of luck and blood dancing beyond the glass. A sense of dread overcame Pericles. When he met his father's face again, he found him sitting on the far side of a dining table. It stretched so deep into the room that the man was pitted in shadow. There in the gloom, the silver of his eyes glinted like knives in the dark. Isaac spoke through clenched teeth and flashing fangs: "Finish it." Wincing, Pericles reluctantly looked down upon his plate. At its center was an uncooked egg. The yolk quivered grotesquely in its puddle of albumen. "It isn't ready," Peri tried to protest, but received no answer. Struggling through the malaise clutching at his heart, he steeled himself, lifting a golden fork between two fingers. Just as the tines were poised to pierce the translucent film, a pupil rose to the surface. It fixed on the fork and contracted in terror. Pericles flung the utensil away and glanced up sharply. Isaac was gone. The bottle lay sideways on the table, empty save a silver droplet dangling from the rim. He felt as though the world went still. "Oh, da...." Pericles whispered, voice cracking. "Not yet. You weren't supposed to... it isn't ready...." A bloated excuse for a hand reached over the edge of the table. It was webbed, like a malformed wing, with thick yellow claws at the end of each finger. His boggart dragged itself into view where his father formerly sat. Torso distended, limbs elongated, batlike ears and ragged breaths, Pericles hadn't healed him- he had destroyed what was left of him. He sat frozen in fear as it loped towards him and opened its fetid maw. Pericles woke on the floor of the Circinus tent. He had dozed off alongside the fire, as he had gotten in the habit of doing, feeling cold despite the sheen of sweat gleaming on his brow. The images which plagued his sleep immediately began to fade. His heart was still pounding, yet it slowed as he drew a few steadying breaths, blinking and groggily trying to stand. He still dreamt in binocular vision from time to time, though those dreams were becoming less frequent as his mind adapted to his new reality. He headed for his cot only to pass it altogether. Air was his go-to demand when overwhelmed. Perhaps it was a bird thing. He hadn't bothered to grab a coat, simply shoving on a pair of self-lacing boots before staggering out into the night. For him, the imagery was fast fading into blurry recollection, but for Eve, snippets of the abstract hellscape lingered: an unending Express. A smoke encircled woman with too many teeth. A forest of leering trees. Wolves with lighthouse eyes. A foul supper. An empty bottle. The charging Boggart. Despair, dread, and remorse.
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Reducio

HAPPY OCTOBER 🎃 LET'S GET WEIRD

Fire crackling merrily at the centre of the tent, Evelynn reclined within her observation chair, a large book on history propped open in her lap. Now and then, the whisper of paper would accompany the occasional snap or hiss of the fire, but nary another sound could be heard. All around her, bodies reclined in various states of repose. Nearby, the steady rise and fall of Finnegan's breathing could just barely be made out in the dim between fire-glow and shadow. And beyond him, that of Becca's. It was moments like these, when their energetically inclined counterparts had exhausted themselves during the day's worth of activities and the rest of her peers were winding down or already asleep for the night, that Evelynn felt most at peace, most capable of tackling a condensed and focused period of study before she, too, eventually joined their slumbering ranks. And after the nonsense of the preceding days, she dearly needed a night of calm and respite.

Tonight would not be one of those nights.

With her attention occupied by war-time struggles and the experiences of soldiers and refugees, thoughts were already envisioning cramped quarters in darkened train carriages. Almost seamlessly, those visions shifted to that of an impossibly long hall with seemingly endless compartment doors; of a wizened woman enshrouded in heavy smoke; of skin-prickling whispers amidst densely looming trees; sentinel wolves on the prowl; a darkly imposing manor; a last supper; undercooked food and unknown substance; a fiend...

She wasn't sure when or why mental images had shifted to intrusive visions, but by the time her senses returned to her properly, Evelynn found herself momentarily light-blind. Gaze pulled from the direction of the fire, lids blinked in rapid succession, fingers massaging at her eyes as she tried to rid herself of the lingers black haze. The textbook had slipped from her knees to fall part-way off her lap. Like an old film whose frames played at a rate far faster than it had been recorded, the entire experience had sped through her thoughts once more, but with no less devastation. Her heart hammered in her chest, flashes of the scenes replaying themselves in quick succession. Chest rising and falling as though newly pulled from the pitch, she could still feel the pangs of fear and anguish, dulled and diminishing now, but ever present.

More than that, however, it was her own surprise layered over it all that so heavily flavoured her expression of disquiet. It hadn't been at all uncommon for her to pick up the stray word or sentiment, or even the flash of an image or sensation while at camp, the tent had--somehow--largely been a means of escape. At some point, she'd simply rationalized that as its residents wearing their hearts on their sleeves, verbalizing whatever was on their minds before their minds could betray them. The sudden assault to her senses left her staggered, return to baseline less swift and graceful than usual, and ultimately interrupted by nearby movement.

Scanning the tent in cursory search of the source of such a horror-scape, a stirring by the fire drew her gaze. Much as he often did, Pericles had dozed off within the close of embrace of its warmth. He rose now. She assumed he would blearily climb himself into his cot per routine, but then he passed his bedding by altogether. No hesitation, no second look, no brief preparation. He simply stood and took a bee-line for the exit, as though drawn by some siren's call. For one who henned over their younger counterparts to ensure they were warm enough to face the conjured elements of their winter wonderland of a camp, and warned of the risks of night time forays, the whole escape was distinctly unlike him.

Perhaps he was going for another midnight flight alone. The thought jabbed itself bitterly against the lingering phantoms, sparring against any rising inclination to traipse after him. Afterall, she had done so only a few nights before, and he'd turned upon her nothing but an icy demeanor and cold shoulder. Let the frost take him if he was going to continue to be so abjectly obstinate. But in the wake of his departure, prickly sensitivities softened, particularly as her mind played Devil's Advocate and reminded her that self-imposed isolation and wandering off in the middle of the night were ofttimes symptoms of something darker. Plus, it wasn't like she hadn't done nearly the same to him yesternight, feeling no inclination to hold back when she'd swiped at him with claws unsheathed when he'd come in search of her during her own absence. Tabling the flurry of visions to be over-analyzed for another time, Evelynn set her textbook aside and slipped after him with a feline grace.

Gloves tugged into place and scarf encircled about her shoulders, she slunk, for the second time in a sun's turn, after the trail of fresh footprints. There would be no familiar gestures this time, however. No chatter of vocalizations, nor bump of a shoulder. In fact, with a Pericles sized jacket and his scarf and gloves to match tucked over one arm, she hadn't shifted at all, choosing instead to follow after him on foot at a bit of a distance.

"You are going to catch a chill," she monotonously chided when he'd finally stopped, a length of several paces maintained between the pair of them, watching his reactions and behaviour carefully. Not that you are likely to notice.. she wanted to add.

| @Evelynn Decipio |

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	The cold was a means to become calm and concentrated. As Pericles slipped from Circinus, he wrapped his arms around himself to stave off the initial shock of it, shuddering and sighing a cloud of steam. This was a recognizable pattern for him in the wake of overwhelm: isolate, compose, return. He walked a short ways before stooping to scoop snow onto the tips of his fingers. As he stood, he drew and held a steadying breath, bracing for the bite of ice as he lifted it to either side of his throat.... "You are going to catch a chill." That flat tone came frigidly enough. Twisting about, Peri shot a wide-eyed look back to take Eve in. His stare darted over the effects on her arm and softened. He hadn't seem much of Eve over the past twenty-four hours: ditching her at the Spin, returning once the tent looked dark, hoping they were all asleep so he wouldn't have to address the disturbing conclusions he'd come to. Come morning he'd set out for a jog (decidedly alone, again). He would find a way to stay busy after that, whether by training with Becca, ghosting after Aly, sparring with Dee or luring Finn into a monologue about the purpose of that game, Port Night, which didn't seem to have much to do with ships at all. The mutual evasion was practically palpable once there was no choice but to settle into Circinus for the night, and his nap by the fire had been more an "out" than anything. Yet despite the prickly conclusion to the last time she'd checked in, here was his friend again. Regardless the cut of her voice, in his eyes, the warm clothes were an olive branch. Pericles liked to keep his cards close, though the remorse on his face was entirely unabashed. He felt bad and he wanted her to know it. When he spoke, he did so gently, body turned towards her in full. "I didn't mean to be long. Cold clears the head is all." He moved to close the gap in contrast to his words, that kicked-puppy-eye unwavering as he reached out with open palms. "Thank you, though.... Did I wake you?"
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At the sound of her voice, Pericles turned without hesitation to face her. Surprise was evident in his features as he shifted from regarding her to the bundle of his own winter wear accompanying her. She braced for a rebuttal that didn't come, shoulders relaxing with the softening of his countenance. Standing firm as he approached, she let her gaze take stock of the very apparent penitence plastered across his porcelain skin. Evidently, whatever it was that had gotten him worked up the night prior had either resolved or he'd at least had the good sense to realize he had been unfairly lashing out. Her lips crimped, on the one hand relieved not to be entering into another social tundra; but on the other, aggrieved to have had to receive such treatment at all. It was very unlike him.

"No.. I was already awake." Her response still held a certain coolness of reservation as she relinquished his belongings, but carried its more familiar lilt. "You have your rotting hours; I have my Hours of the Ghost. The only time I can ever get any properly uninterrupted study is after everyone has gone to bed. I typically do not sleep until three or so." She paused, withdrawing her now emptied hands to fold across her abdomen. "You certainly seemed to have awoken yourself and left in a haste. Did you have a nightmare?" she queried, figuring that the only clearing of one's head that the cold would have to do after a sudden awakening would have to be related to some mare or other.

Only once the words had come out of her mouth did it occur to her that the clips and images to which she had only just moments ago been privy most aligned themselves to the chaotic storytelling of a dream. Confusion and sudden revelation mixed on her features as the conclusion settled uncomfortably, but curiously into place. "I still have ample Dreamless Sleep," she offered, working off of the assumption of an assault on the slumbering mind and referencing the potion she was now known by their younger charges for producing, "if ever you need it.."

| @Evelynn Decipio |

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	Refreshing as the night air had been, Pericles welcomed the warmth offered by Eve's effects. He swung the jacket over his shoulders, stretched his fingers into the gloves, and wrapped the scarf around his neck with a deft knot and tidy tuck. Only when she mentioned she stayed up until three did he glance up, disapprovingly at that. "Summer isn't structured for studying. What could be keeping you on so late? The G-... the muggle exam?" The wizard was trying to be supportive, though couldn't recall what the exact acronym was. It wasn't named something so fanciful as O.W.L. Eve had folded her arms as she asked about his nightmare. The posture seemed guarded, unless he was reading too much into it. The two seemed to be stuck in some subliminal tango between hiding what went on in their heads, and trying to perceive one another. Peri wasn't keen on her knowing what conclusions he'd come to about his feelings. Better to keep things civil, rather than risk her friendship, let alone the sanctity of the party. There came and went that signature pause of someone considering whether or not to be blunt. Maybe it was pureblood etiquette, or otherwise an English thing, but Pericles typically erred on the "polite" side rather than the honest one. He'd sooner say "fine" when asked how he was than to admit what was wrong. Yet in the end, where it came to Eve, he chose the truthful path. "I did," he confessed plainly, "about my boggart." Maybe it was more of a half-truth. He seemed to like those, then again, the tail end of his dream may have been all he recalled. At the same time, little more needed to be said. Being subjected to one's worst fear was a traumatic experience for any child, and to make matters more severe, their peers came to know that intimate aspect too. She had seen his father as a bloated vampiric experiment, and he had seen what he could only assume was Eve's mother, torn asunder by shadows. It wasn't exactly something kids spoke about with one another. After offered access to Eve's supply of Dreamless Sleep, the eagle shook his head in appreciative denial. He'd noticed who her supply was going to and wasn't inclined to detract from it. "Thank you, but it's alright... I find there's value in dreams. Even the bad ones." Happy to turn the subject back her way, Peri's eye hooded as he gently chastised over Ghost Hour, "There's value in rest, too, you know. We aren't ghosts yet." In contrast to his words, he seemed inclined to stay and chat awhile. Now that he was warm, the moment of privacy was welcomed, and the wizard meandered his way towards an apology.
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There were small comforts in little gestures. Pericles donned coat and accessories with easy movements and did so without fight or consternation. The branch had been accepted, silently and without hesitation. It allowed Evelynn's shoulders to ease somewhat, content to know that at the very least, he wouldn't freeze while they continued to collect the frayed strands and tuck them tidily into stitching, hidden from all but the most perceptive eyes. Of course, the maker always knew where the errors were.

"The GCSEs," Evelynn clarified--and likely not for the first time--in a dull tone that may have suggested that their pursuit was not her favourite thing in the world. Even academics had their limits. "Exams," she continued, emphasizing the plurality of the tests. "There are many of them, much like the O.W.L.s. Mathematics, Literature, English, Biology, Chemistry....etcetera," she rattled off a number of the many test subjects she would be sitting to write over the course of the coming year, hand gesticulating vaguely in the air as she did. But the topic of exams--particularly muggle exams--was far less interesting than that of dreams. Especially those that haunted Pericles in particular.

Had she been a betting woman, she may have put her chips on the side keeping with the Eagle's silence. He was like her in many ways--most ways, it sometimes felt like--and had the roles been reversed, she likely would have deflected. When he paused, she was certain he was about to do the same. A brow rose at the initial confirmation of a dream, though lips crimped at the admission of its centering around his boggart. She knew the creature had seemed familiar in a way, but she hadn't recalled why. The recollection of their third year class came rushing back at that reference, though, the razor toothed, winged monster returning to mind as vividly as it had in the nightmare. There had been no father-figure transformation back then, though. She wondered if that was a coincidence, or a key aspect of the fear, much like her own mother had been at the heart of hers.

"Dreams are little more than the chaotic byproduct of our mind creating new synapses.." she intoned, evidently not sharing in Pericles' appreciation. And the moment she'd learned how to, she'd taken full advantage of Dreamless Sleep. It was a rare night now to be haunted by her past. At least in slumber. "And I do receive plenty rest, thank you." She shot him a pot calling the kettle black sort of look. "In their absence. In fact, I receive the equivalent of a full eight hours of uninterrupted rest every night. Dreamless Sleep and Invigoration Draught are a marvelous duo," she shot, almost petulantly. In fact, it was probably the only reason she'd been able to make the academic comeback this past year that she had. Her grades had been abysmal at the fifth year midway mark. Under normal circumstances, she was certain she would have had to repeat the year. But four hours of real sleep followed by four hours of magically provided rest were the perfect tonic for the seeming lack of sufficient hours in a day. Despite her mixed feelings about the wizarding world, there was no denying that magic had its uses for some things.

Naturally, this internal turmoil would go unspoken, the redhead being one to keep her thoughts mostly to herself, even where Pericles was concerned. Sometimes especially so. While their developing friendship had been founded on a moment of weakness for her, it had become increasingly difficult to express uncertainty, and worry about appearing anything less than equally capable fell thick like the flakes of snow that had heralded their first real interaction. The self-imposed expectation had done wonders to bring her daily life back under control, but its weight could be wearisome. In an effort to derail the train her thoughts had taken, she inclined her chin back towards the tent and offered, "I could make us some hot chocolate." Maybe a dream didn't quite have the same effect on the soul as a boggart did, but chocolate seemed like a universal remedy. At the very least, it would draw him back in from the cold and give allow her to busy herself with a task.

| @Evelynn Decipio |

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	GCSEs explained as the muggle equivalent of O.W.L.s solidified context for the pureblood heir. Yet as dry as Eve seemed to think they were, his instinctive reaction was to find them both fascinating and disconcerting. Pericles blinked tired eyes, drew a short breath intended to form a question, then said instead: "I see." Though his smile formed a supportive shape, it was carefully manufactured and faded fast. The question slunk into the back of his mind. Hearing dreams described as the chaotic byproduct of our mind creating new synapses was the distraction he needed, and Pericles huffed a tuneless laugh, reaching to draw his collar closer. He had come outside intending to jolt himself sober with the cold, but settled instead for conversation. "Don't let Professor Clairmont hear you say that. I heard the sixth-year syllabus starts with Oneiromancy." His mother, an Oracle, used to soothe him from frequent night terrors by helping him dissect them through her craft. The wizard sounded pensive as he mused, "It's a sort of comfort, though, to hear it simplified with science. Less ominous that way." Blazing ever onward, Eve went on to describe how she tricked her body into functioning at its fullest, declaring her steady use of Dreamless Sleep in combination with Invigoration Draught. Professor Regan had warned them that it wasn't a substitute for sleep, particularly not over prolonged periods. Her lecture was framed around one of the only subjects Eve appeared to be lacking in: self-care. Judging from the defiance in her voice, she knew and was ready to tell him she'd "calculated the pros and cons and found the benefits outweighed the risks, thank you", or something to that effect. Unfit to fight her in his groggy state, Pericles could only manage to hum a low, disapproving "Mmh." He gave her the same infamous side-eye he sometimes subjected Becca to when she was going through one of her quarrelsome phases. Eve's invitation, however, dismantled the act. Peri's gaze followed her gesture towards the tent, then leveled on her as he admitted, "I would like that." He didn't move to head inside, adding instead, "Though I wouldn't mind standing out in the cold worrying over one another for a little while longer." He couldn't stand to drag this out much longer than he already had. With some effort, Pericles arrived at the point, blunt but no less earnest. A softened version of that remorseful expression crept up again. "I was curt with you last night. I'm sorry for it."He'd been grateful when she came to check on him, only to make an abrupt switch in attitude, and decided to skirt around the "why" of all that in favor of the more straightforward matter. "Not to say it was an excuse, but I was overwhelmed, so I swatted you away. I needed some time in a tree for myself." He was referencing, of course, her recent disappearance. An absent Eve had concerned Circinus and Pericles set out on wings in search of her. When the eagle's eye caught the puma in a tree, she had swatted and snarled at him to leave. Peri had resumed his human shape a safe number of branches way, assuring her that they were worried and waiting on her return. She always seemed to think she needed to suffer alone, though with time to realize what really upset him, he'd come to the conclusion that they were irritatingly alike in that. "The things I was feeling, and the way I was behaving over them, weren't your fault. Can we call it even...?" Pericles drew his hand from the coat she'd brought him, came closer, then offered it upturned and open.
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Evelynn very nearly rolled her eyes at the warning to avoid suggesting anything other than what instruction might have been provided in Divinations. While the Gryffindor had once been enrolled in the class, that had ended after a particularly fruitless plea for assistance to the professor at the time. A challenge to her abilities wouldn't normally have been sufficient to elicit a yield, but it hadn't been quite normal. Between the voices and visions newly inhabiting her head, her general ineptitude to achieve any "real" sign of Sight (despite the great majority of her classmates experiencing the very same) and an already strained timetable, the command for her to drop the course had been met with little resistance, leaving a stain of disdain in its wake. She hadn't abandoned the subject entirely, though, still studying and practicing certain types of divination (such as taromancy) in her own time; but she certainly didn't fear earning the ire of the current sitting Divination professor, nor did her own dabbling diminish her faith in science. Though it was a bit strange to have the scientific explanation described as the simplified version.

But she wasn't here to argue ideologies or theory, and was soon thereafter satisfied that her insistence of sufficient sleep would not be contested. Not verbally, anyway. There was no missing the derision cast her way in that single-eyed glance, or the way the monosyllabic hum resonated disapproval. Had she been an eagle, she might have ruffled with defensive indignation, having zero desire to feel the weight of his judgment, and firmly believing he was in no place to be casting it in the first place. His look had been returned, half-lidded and defiant, a silent warning not to provoke her unless he wanted another fight on his hands. Perhaps that was why she had diverted to mention of hot chocolate. She had no desire to contest, knowing full well that lingering bitterness could lead her to say something she might later regret.

It had come as something of a relief, then, when he'd expressed desire for the warm beverage and Evelynn had initially begun to rotate to turn back towards the tent. Only to stop as he did not. She cast him a look of bemusement, one that only deepened to take on a glint of the earlier defiance as he continued. "I was not worrying over you," she denied reflexively, arms rising to fold more tightly over themselves, "and certainly do not know why you could possibly be worrying over me. You just seemed to have thought it wise to court the cold, and I thought it silly for you to risk falling ill for no reason." You could practically see the hackles standing on end for no good reason.

Her posture shifted as he transitioned to bring up the other night. Irritation flashed across her features, the pang of sorrow she'd felt in the moment of his lashing out at the time having since twisted with toxic bile into a seething that had simmered insidiously over the past few days. It had played a role in the hostility she had returned while departed from Circinus the night before, feeling strongly that he his efforts to check up on her struck hollow when he'd rebuffed the same from her. Indeed she had swatted him away, and was almost disappointed at the time that she hadn't made contact, all the more irate when he had withdrawn to a branch just out of reach to speak when all she had wanted at the time was to be left alone, even though the words he'd spoken had imparted compassion and understanding. To reference her state of grief felt like a cheap blow and had he approached the topic in any other way than to take ownership, she might have unloaded another clipped remark in response. But he hadn't, and guilt made its uncomfortable presence known with the reminder that his pursuit hadn't been unreasonable even if it had been unwelcome, and her reaction had been--arguably--even more volatile. So she held her tongue. A pregnant pause spanned the distance between them as she chewed on his apology, digesting its substance with the acid of her scorn.

Eventually, she loosed a low and prolonged breath, misting the cold air to obscure the softening of her features. "Another mandrake on the tongue.." she murmured in reference to starting a cycle over, slowly letting the guardedness uncoil to shed itself upon the snow. In a way, it was a relief to know that she hadn't been at fault for earning his ire. "But what of next time?" A gust of wind whistled through the tents urging her to roll her shoulders against the chill, hands migrating to tuck between torso and arms while she hugged herself. "How am I to know when you would oblige company and when you will not? I would rather not be on the receiving end of that again." Another pause. Faint lines etched themselves thoughtfully between her brows before she pressed, "Why were you overwhelmed?"

| @Evelynn Decipio |

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	"I was not worrying over you, and certainly do not know why you could possibly be worrying over me." The eagle's eyes closed and opened with an empty blink. His selective hearing omitted the part about his hazardous relationship with cold weather, instead feeling the sharp edges of her tone to test for authenticity. Was she being honest about her feelings, or guarding them? As when the bird had flown just out of claw's reach, Pericles tested the space between them boldly, straightforward and flatly blunt. "I was worried about you. I care about you. Care and worry tend to go hand-in-hand." The confession was a liability, but Pericles seemed unafraid of taking it. He chased the confession with his apology and outstretched hand. One of those tired smiles formed when it was taken, only to smooth into a neutral line at Eve's flurry of questions. What of next time? How would she know? Why had he run off in the first place? The Ravenclaw felt that residual spark of embarrassment, of otherness, the fear she would stick him in some wrongful category. He knew what people said about boys who weren't racing to slobber over girls. But this was one his friends. Pear felt his walls start to rise, then recalled he was trying to get Eve to lower hers. He would have to lead by example if they were ever going to trust each other. "My mistletoe partner tried to kiss me, but I wasn't inclined to reciprocate. I felt guilty and left..." ...when Eve blocked his exit route. Pericles would omit the actual source of his anger. No reason to subject her to all that while he was still coming to terms with it himself. He quietly vowed, "I'll do it right next time. I'll tell you gently, if you can do the same? You nearly took my wing off the other night." He spoke disingenuously; he might have been upset if she'd snagged him, but no harm meant no foul. Something else was bothering him instead: "You haven't told me why you were in that tree." It was a typical Peri comment, complex feelings compounded into a short statement. She hadn't told him, he wished she would, but he was also too polite to ask her outright. Instead, the eclectic asked for an answer while offering her an out from it.
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Pericles may have thought the confession might be a liability, but if ever it occurred to Evelynn that his care of her extended beyond the platonic, that revelation was still several months out. That wasn't to say it hadn't achieved something, though. While it may not have appealed to any notions of what-could-be, it did serve to temper her bristling. It was difficult--and frankly unnecessary--to remain on the defensive when the topic of her feelings wasn't pursued. And moreover when it was entirely flipped around. "Well," she had flustered somewhat, blinking several times in quick succession to ultimately avoid his gaze and occupy herself with a sudden need to preen, dusting snow dust from her arms. "You need not have." Even with her outward dismissal of his concern, a certain warmth fluttered at her core, partially prompting the series of questions she had then thrown his way.

Her anxious ministrations quieted back to stillness as he answered, her gaze flicking back up to curiously scrutinize his features. She hadn't expected him to be quite so candid in his response, nor to hear that response at all. Brows furrowed, obvious confusion etching itself between them as her mind conjured first-hand memories of a Pericles that certainly had not refused to reciprocate. What he said didn't match what she had seen. Well.. not that she had laid eyes on it directly, but she had still Seen. Was he lying? Lids narrowed almost imperceptibly as the lioness tried to makes head and tails of the mismatch. No matter how she framed it, however, she couldn't fathom what he would have gained from it. Unless the guilt to which he referred wasn't about a lack of returning the embrace, but having enjoyed it just a little too much given his relationship with Aly...?

As she failed to find any suggestions on his face that might suggest deceit, however, another thought occurred to her. What if what she had seen hadn't been what had happened? Given that she had been able to glimpse a dream, which obviously wasn't something that had come to pass, it should have been apparent that deception of the mind could have been a possibility. And yet, it had never occurred to her. Suddenly, it brought to question everything she had heard or witnessed up until that point. Confusion and skepticism swept from her expression, replaced with a blank sort of dumbfoundedness. Was Davenport even gone? Evelynn had seen her shattered. But what if that hadn't been a memory at all, but simply a snippet of an active imagination? What of the other visions or phrases? Pieces of thought she'd taken as gospel, as unadulturated windows into another's mind? This realization left her internally staggered, much of Pericles' next words going unheard.

"...why you were in that tree."

The tail end of his words cut through the miasma of her newfound self-doubt. She blinked, pulling her attention back from distant vacancy, a pattern the boy had witnessed from her on several occasions by now. Only this time, the reason for her distraction had been thoughts that were entirely her own. "I wanted to be alone..." Those words were ones that he had heard before, too, the same vague excuse she'd given everyone when pestered for the reason for her absence. Her arms tightened further around herself as a shiver of cold coursed through her. "Just as I had wanted the same in February," she added, providing a sliver of context. Her sights lidded and shifted away from him to peer determinedly elsewhere. "Sometimes I just need the quiet." Then with a shrug of a brow, admitted quietly, "Emotions are dulled when we take form. It makes things easier... It was one of the reasons I sought to complete the ritual in the first place."