4 Dec 2024, 20:53
Black Iron
The rhythmic clang of iron reverberated off the walls of the dimly lit dungeon, each echo swallowed by the cold, damp walls of Hogwarts’ underbelly. Children often explored these cold, dark, damp spaces, considering the dungeons a site to explore. For some, like Mathias, however, the dungeons served as unused real-estate. There, in the cold dark dungeons so close to his Slytherin dormitory Mathias stood shirtless in the center of the room, the flickering torchlight casting jagged shadows across his body. His muscles flexed and strained as he pressed the barbell upward, the weights on either end rattling slightly before he lowered it again with controlled precision.
He had been known for his physical fragility. He had spent his youth pressed in a book, building his mind rather than his body. In fact, when he broke under the knuckle of another, it only served him in the end. But no more. He needed to become strong. Sweat that dripped down his forehead and onto the stone floor was a small price to pay for clarity. Here, beneath the castle, far from prying eyes and whispered rumors, Mathias let the burn of exertion purge his frustration.
Clang went the metal against the rack.
The barbell hit its rack, the sound reverberating through the room. Mathias sat up, breathing hard, his chest heaving as he grabbed a towel and wiped his face. The encounter with Gideon replayed in his mind, every calculated word, every sly grin, every carefully planted seed of doubt. He hated his younger brother.
His brother’s meddling was expected, but the audacity of it—the sheer boldness—was something new.
The memory of Winnie’s name slipping so casually from Gideon’s lips the other day set his teeth on edge. she was wandering outside of the lines and Gideon, like other members of his family were greedily laying in wait. Gideon’s scarf and hat, those ridiculous tokens of her desperation, had been weaponized against him, their significance twisted into yet another pawn in Gideon’s game.
Mathias grabbed a heavier set of weights, his grip tightening around the cold iron. As he began his next set, his muscles screamed in protest, but the Seer welcomed the pain. It sharpened him, steadied him. Pain, after all, was the truest reminder of what it took to succeed. He was going to hone himself to perfection, there was no space for failure or weakness.
The torchlight glinted off the sweat slicking his skin as the weights rose and fell in relentless rhythm. His breath came hard, in husky grunts, punctuating the silence.
Control the burn, he thought, his focus narrowing. Control the pace. Let them think they are winning until it is too late.
Clang again went the metal against the rack. Another set down, he mentally calculated those that remained. Everything was planned. Defined. And done in purpose of a singular goal.
Heavy breaths, his chest heaved as the barbell hit the rack again, and Mathias rose, pacing the room as his heart pounded in his chest. He needed to burn this anxiety and frustration somehow. His shadow stretched and contorted against the stone, monstrous and looming. His brother wanted chaos. They wanted to unravel everything Mathias had built, to sow cracks in the foundation of Pride's inevitable ascension.
But Mathias' castle was not build on sand. He had spent years developing the perception of those around him, of guiding his rivals and enemies to their destruction and now he was about to gforge himself on the fruits of his labors.
The Slytherin clenched his fists, the veins in Pride's forearms bulging as his body pulsed with both exertion and fury. He thought of Winnie, mentally fragile and naïve, her loyalty tainted by a delusion of independence and autonomy. The Ravenclaw foolishly thought she could escape, but Winnie wasn’t the first to underestimate him, and she wouldn’t be the last. She was a part of his game, a part of the life he had envisioned and nobody was going to take his future from him. Not even her.
“You’ll see,” Mathias murmured, his voice dark and resonant in the quiet. “You think you’re playing me, but every move you make only sharpens my blade.” His deep breaths and grunts sounded more like a viscous beating as his anger and desire fueled him.
He turned back to the weights, gripping the barbell with a ferocity that made his knuckles whiten as he engaged in yet another set. As he pressed the iron upwards and outwards again and again, Mathias let his mind go still, save for a single thought that pulsed with every repetition.
Win.
This is my game. My kingdom. And if you overstep, I’ll bury you under it. He needed to burn his passion away here and now. To break down this coiled tension before he faced the world and hid his physical change beneath voluminous wizard robes.
Win.
The sound of his exertion filled the dungeon, raw and primal, the only witnesses to his silent vow the shadows that watched him in the flickering light and the sound of heels clicking on the stone floor.
Winnie?
He would stop, holding the bell aloft as something rounded the corner. He would reach with his free hand for the towel and sweep at his brow. His clothes tossed carelessly aside less his trousers, in the suddenly felt chill of the dungeon he reached for his shirt. Few wore heels casually, so his mind went to his long-term girlfriend Winnie. She was not one to explore the dark places, the dungeons, the basement, unlit corridors. He internally tensed, wondering if she had sought him out.
She must be really missing him to travel into the dark.
He had been known for his physical fragility. He had spent his youth pressed in a book, building his mind rather than his body. In fact, when he broke under the knuckle of another, it only served him in the end. But no more. He needed to become strong. Sweat that dripped down his forehead and onto the stone floor was a small price to pay for clarity. Here, beneath the castle, far from prying eyes and whispered rumors, Mathias let the burn of exertion purge his frustration.
Clang went the metal against the rack.
The barbell hit its rack, the sound reverberating through the room. Mathias sat up, breathing hard, his chest heaving as he grabbed a towel and wiped his face. The encounter with Gideon replayed in his mind, every calculated word, every sly grin, every carefully planted seed of doubt. He hated his younger brother.
His brother’s meddling was expected, but the audacity of it—the sheer boldness—was something new.
The memory of Winnie’s name slipping so casually from Gideon’s lips the other day set his teeth on edge. she was wandering outside of the lines and Gideon, like other members of his family were greedily laying in wait. Gideon’s scarf and hat, those ridiculous tokens of her desperation, had been weaponized against him, their significance twisted into yet another pawn in Gideon’s game.
Mathias grabbed a heavier set of weights, his grip tightening around the cold iron. As he began his next set, his muscles screamed in protest, but the Seer welcomed the pain. It sharpened him, steadied him. Pain, after all, was the truest reminder of what it took to succeed. He was going to hone himself to perfection, there was no space for failure or weakness.
The torchlight glinted off the sweat slicking his skin as the weights rose and fell in relentless rhythm. His breath came hard, in husky grunts, punctuating the silence.
Control the burn, he thought, his focus narrowing. Control the pace. Let them think they are winning until it is too late.
Clang again went the metal against the rack. Another set down, he mentally calculated those that remained. Everything was planned. Defined. And done in purpose of a singular goal.
Heavy breaths, his chest heaved as the barbell hit the rack again, and Mathias rose, pacing the room as his heart pounded in his chest. He needed to burn this anxiety and frustration somehow. His shadow stretched and contorted against the stone, monstrous and looming. His brother wanted chaos. They wanted to unravel everything Mathias had built, to sow cracks in the foundation of Pride's inevitable ascension.
But Mathias' castle was not build on sand. He had spent years developing the perception of those around him, of guiding his rivals and enemies to their destruction and now he was about to gforge himself on the fruits of his labors.
The Slytherin clenched his fists, the veins in Pride's forearms bulging as his body pulsed with both exertion and fury. He thought of Winnie, mentally fragile and naïve, her loyalty tainted by a delusion of independence and autonomy. The Ravenclaw foolishly thought she could escape, but Winnie wasn’t the first to underestimate him, and she wouldn’t be the last. She was a part of his game, a part of the life he had envisioned and nobody was going to take his future from him. Not even her.
“You’ll see,” Mathias murmured, his voice dark and resonant in the quiet. “You think you’re playing me, but every move you make only sharpens my blade.” His deep breaths and grunts sounded more like a viscous beating as his anger and desire fueled him.
He turned back to the weights, gripping the barbell with a ferocity that made his knuckles whiten as he engaged in yet another set. As he pressed the iron upwards and outwards again and again, Mathias let his mind go still, save for a single thought that pulsed with every repetition.
Win.
This is my game. My kingdom. And if you overstep, I’ll bury you under it. He needed to burn his passion away here and now. To break down this coiled tension before he faced the world and hid his physical change beneath voluminous wizard robes.
Win.
The sound of his exertion filled the dungeon, raw and primal, the only witnesses to his silent vow the shadows that watched him in the flickering light and the sound of heels clicking on the stone floor.
Winnie?
He would stop, holding the bell aloft as something rounded the corner. He would reach with his free hand for the towel and sweep at his brow. His clothes tossed carelessly aside less his trousers, in the suddenly felt chill of the dungeon he reached for his shirt. Few wore heels casually, so his mind went to his long-term girlfriend Winnie. She was not one to explore the dark places, the dungeons, the basement, unlit corridors. He internally tensed, wondering if she had sought him out.
She must be really missing him to travel into the dark.
Event NPC
4 Dec 2024, 23:21
Black Iron
Date: November 20th, 2024
‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿
Interacting: @Mathias Pride
Mentioning:
When someone tries to rescue a drowning person, they often risk being dragged under themselves—the panicked thrashing, the desperate scramble for air pushing them both towards the depths. But what did you do if you were the one drowning and could only rely on yourself?
Nothing. You let the old you sink or push their head beneath the water to help quicken the process. There was no room for the girl who believed love would save her, she was nothing but a dead weight that would pull her down to the dark depths below.
After her conversation with Gideon she had escaped back to the dormitory and locked herself away for days to start weaving a nightmare, to start mourning who she had once been, who should could never be again. Trembling hands packed frills, lace, and pastel shaded dresses away in a trunk. The stuffed animals that once brought her comfort, poetry hopeful endings, and fairytales with happily-ever-afters—none of it would find a place in her new world.
This was a burial.
With every item that was packed away, with every discarded relic of her past, she stripped away the girl she had been. It would not be instant; her metamorphosis would take time. She would have to observe for a while, quietly collecting information while avoiding being detected. Day by day she would learn the art of lucid dreaming until she could take back control of her living nightmare.
When she decided she could no longer hide, she would wear her war paint. She carefully applied her makeup, soft shades of pinks and browns, long lashes, pink painted nails, and a red lipstick. She wore a simple short dress, one that fit her like skin. Still pink, because it was the best colour no matter what version of herself she was playing. Strappy matching high heels, and the jewelry Mathias had gifted her on her birthday completed the look.
Finding the Slytherin would prove difficult, he wasn't in the usual places that Winnie looked for him, with his nose stuck in a book in the library or tucked away in a quiet classroom. Reluctantly she decided to try areas closer to her boyfriend's common room, though she did run the risk of running into Percival and the mere thought made her stomach twist.
The rhythmic clang of iron startled her at first, but she soon started to follow the sound as if it were a siren's song. The clicking of her heels against the stone floor added to the melody. As the iron sounds grew closer she could hear the unmistakable sound of grunting and heavy breathing, familiar to her after years of overexerting herself playing Quidditch. Someone was exercising, and talking to themselves, by the sound of the mumbling and angry sounds. If she was in a sane frame of mind, she would have turned on her heel and walked the other way instead of facing whoever the angry dungeon monster was, but she was too hyper-focused on finding her fiancée. She would figure out who it was, and then demand they tell her where Matt was.
If Mathias wanted an adoring fiancée that was exactly what he was going to get. She had a plan, toss herself into his arms, maybe a nice make out session between questions. If he avoided them the kisses stopped, but answers would be rewarded. She could not dive in without first testing the waters, pushing buttons and noting where limits were.
All of that went out the window the minute she saw him.
Winnie paused in place, blue eyes locked onto her boyfriend's form. For a second she thought she might be hallucinating, because there was no way the muscular form in front of her belonged to Mathias Pride. Holy. Shit. Blue eyes sweep down and then back up again, and she was thankful for the dim light of the dungeons, because she was most definitely blushing.
She wasn’t prepared for this.
She had to bite down on her lower lip to keep her breath from hitching. No, no... This wasn't supposed to be a part of the plan, staring at his muscles slack jawed with a wandering gaze. Mathias was supposed to be the one staring at her. He supposed to be a thin nerd. Handsome, yes, but not this ripped Hercules. She was STRONGER than him... At least, she used to be? When had he started to... She did remember his seemingly sudden strong grasp during the Gala. Just how long had he been hiding his hulk form?
"Mattie," She finally said, allowing a smile to curve onto her lips, "I've been looking for you. Why are you down here in the..." What was the word for where they were? She gestured vaguely around the cold, damp dungeon. "Sewers?" Her eyes flickered back down to his chest, long enough to watch the rhythmic rise and fall. God, he was so sweaty, maybe he needed help toweling off--
NO. Stupid teenaged hormones. She had to stick to the plan, even if it were escaping through her fingers like sand.
"So you work out now? Are you planning on beating me in Quidditch next?" Straightening her posture, she would close the distance between them. Her hand came up almost instinctively, resting lightly against his chest. If he didn't pull away, she would push herself onto her tiptoes, lips grazing his, "Or maybe you're done with me? You didn't even get after me for talking to Gideon." If only it were that easy.
Last edited by Winnie Athanatos on 8 Dec 2024, 20:36, edited 1 time in total.
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |
5 Dec 2024, 00:03
Black Iron
Mathias set the barbell down with a controlled clang, the iron ringing out through the dungeon as he straightened. He was not tanned, his milky white skin seemed to make him almost shine in the dimness of the dungeons. He was still tall, but his form was filling out. Broad shoulders, thickened limbs, a thin waist with rippling muscle from his hips to ribs. The tension in his shoulders eased momentarily, though his body remained taut with the quiet intensity of exertion. He grabbed the towel slung over the nearby chair he used like a bench and wiped his face, glancing toward the source of the soft clicking heels.
He had not seen Winnie in the last few days. Admittedly he longed for her, her touch, her breath, the sound of her voice. The sound of heels clicking on stone reminded him of the Ravenclaw.
Winnie...
Her voice reached him before her presence fully registered, but when it did, his gaze lifted, dark and calculating. He didn’t immediately reply, instead allowing his eyes to sweep over her form—every deliberate detail of her appearance, every practiced movement. Something about her was different. Hair, still red. Make-up, still gentle with the exception of a crimson lip. Dress, still pink. The dress was shorter, more form-fitting than the more whimsical, romantic attire she often preferred. Still, the soft pinks she clung to even now. He noticed a sparkle, the jewelry he’d given her for her birthday.
If she was trying to seduce him, she should have donned her quidditch gear again. It was a bit of a cop-out, but why change what works? Still, she looked nice. Mature. More like a woman than a girl.
Still, he recognized this for what it was. Control. She was trying to seize control of this interaction, a game he had perfected long before she understood she was even playing. The thing is, she did not understand her power, his lust and the true machinations of his heart. That he wanted this, but she unknowingly wanted it also.
“Winnie,” he said finally, his voice low and even, with a weight that made her name sound heavier in the cold air. He let her close the distance between them, though his posture remained steady, unmoving. The dungeon light cast shadows across his sweat-slicked skin, and his chest rose and fell evenly despite the exertion she had interrupted. The scent of his efforts permeated the atmosphere with a bouquet of masculinity.
Her hand on his chest was soft, tentative. He allowed it, if only to feel the slight tremor in her fingertips. He would raise his hand and rest his on her and run it over his slick chest.
Perhaps if she was not making googly eyes at Percival, the Slytherin whose jawline’s working overtime to make his neck look thinner.
“Why am I down here?” He echoed her question with a faint smirk, ignoring her attempt at humor. “Why are you down here, Winnie? Hoping to borrow Gray's newspaper and have him tell you about the good old days.”
He did not pull away from her. He wanted her there. He loved it when she was this close. When he could feel her heat. When he could feel her shivering flesh, a bundle of energy just ready to burst. Her lips brushed against his, her whispered words laced with a challenge she didn’t fully understand. Mathias’s gaze darkened as she spoke, her attempt to provoke him into jealousy or frustration landing with a dull thud.
“‘Maybe I’m done with you’?” he repeated softly, his tone calm, almost conversational. He gave mixed signals as his tongue attempted to enter her mouth and his hands attempted to reach around her. He tilted his head slightly, the gesture both inquisitive and vaguely predatory despite the roaming of his hands, his tongue and his lips. She would if she did not back away feel his grip tighten about her waist. “What a dangerous thing to say, darling. I’m beginning to wonder if you know what that even means.”
She would feel herself lift if she did not push away, rush away from him. If the prodding, almost exploratory kiss remained ongoing, he would break it. He did not seem particularly burdened by her weight. She might be strong, but she was ultimately a slip of a thing. His head leaded towards her ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur almost conspiratory as he continued, his breath warm against her ear. “You want me to scold you for going to Gideon? Is that what you’re after? A punishment for crossing the line? Or maybe...” He paused, letting the words settle between them, “...you’re looking for something else entirely. Something only I can give you.”
His grip would shift, his hands a bit lower as Mathias shrugged to pull her higher. Enough that she could clearly meet his gaze, his expression sharp and unreadable, the flicker of amusement in his eyes doing nothing to soften their intensity. “Gideon is a distraction, Winnie. A dangerous one. He thrives on chaos, on pulling the threads of others’ lives just to watch them unravel.” He would take a step back, leading her towards the chair to his rear. A second, deeper kiss if she did not fight him off, he would turn around and place her in the chair. His hands would relinquish their grip on whatever hip, waist, ass-like area the mods consider to be PG13 appropriate, leaving a chill in their wake. “Don’t mistake his games for anything more than what they are. And don’t think I won’t notice when my fiancée decides to play along.”
He stepped back, creating just enough space to make her feel the absence, his eyes still locked on hers. He would drink her in, finally taking the moment to do so. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone softer now, though there was an unmistakable edge to his words. “You’ve always been beautiful, Winnie. But don’t forget what drew me to you in the first place. It wasn’t just your beauty—it was your strength.” He was not referring to her athletic prowess either.
Mathias reached for the towel again, wiping the sweat from his neck and shoulders, his movements deliberate and measured. “You want me to see you, to understand what you’re doing?” He gave a small, humorless chuckle. “I do see you. Every piece of you. And I’ve already decided what you’re worth to me years ago." He never expressed an interest in another woman or man for that matter. His interests have always been solely on her. "But don’t ever think you’re the one pulling the strings here.”
He stepped closer again, towering over her now, his presence overwhelming. “If you want to test me, if you want to push, then do it. But understand this: I will always have control, Winnie. You can fight, you can adapt, you can shed your old skin and become someone new. I welcome it. But at the end of the day...” He leaned in, if she was standing by now or still sitting, it mattered little considering how small she was. His voice barely above a whisper. “...you’re mine. And no amount of war paint or bold words will change that.”
He straightened, his expression softening just slightly, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you really want, darling? I'm, always game to make-out. And, if you’re looking for a fight, you should know by now...” His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. “...I never lose.”
He had not seen Winnie in the last few days. Admittedly he longed for her, her touch, her breath, the sound of her voice. The sound of heels clicking on stone reminded him of the Ravenclaw.
Winnie...
Her voice reached him before her presence fully registered, but when it did, his gaze lifted, dark and calculating. He didn’t immediately reply, instead allowing his eyes to sweep over her form—every deliberate detail of her appearance, every practiced movement. Something about her was different. Hair, still red. Make-up, still gentle with the exception of a crimson lip. Dress, still pink. The dress was shorter, more form-fitting than the more whimsical, romantic attire she often preferred. Still, the soft pinks she clung to even now. He noticed a sparkle, the jewelry he’d given her for her birthday.
If she was trying to seduce him, she should have donned her quidditch gear again. It was a bit of a cop-out, but why change what works? Still, she looked nice. Mature. More like a woman than a girl.
Still, he recognized this for what it was. Control. She was trying to seize control of this interaction, a game he had perfected long before she understood she was even playing. The thing is, she did not understand her power, his lust and the true machinations of his heart. That he wanted this, but she unknowingly wanted it also.
“Winnie,” he said finally, his voice low and even, with a weight that made her name sound heavier in the cold air. He let her close the distance between them, though his posture remained steady, unmoving. The dungeon light cast shadows across his sweat-slicked skin, and his chest rose and fell evenly despite the exertion she had interrupted. The scent of his efforts permeated the atmosphere with a bouquet of masculinity.
Her hand on his chest was soft, tentative. He allowed it, if only to feel the slight tremor in her fingertips. He would raise his hand and rest his on her and run it over his slick chest.
Perhaps if she was not making googly eyes at Percival, the Slytherin whose jawline’s working overtime to make his neck look thinner.
“Why am I down here?” He echoed her question with a faint smirk, ignoring her attempt at humor. “Why are you down here, Winnie? Hoping to borrow Gray's newspaper and have him tell you about the good old days.”
He did not pull away from her. He wanted her there. He loved it when she was this close. When he could feel her heat. When he could feel her shivering flesh, a bundle of energy just ready to burst. Her lips brushed against his, her whispered words laced with a challenge she didn’t fully understand. Mathias’s gaze darkened as she spoke, her attempt to provoke him into jealousy or frustration landing with a dull thud.
“‘Maybe I’m done with you’?” he repeated softly, his tone calm, almost conversational. He gave mixed signals as his tongue attempted to enter her mouth and his hands attempted to reach around her. He tilted his head slightly, the gesture both inquisitive and vaguely predatory despite the roaming of his hands, his tongue and his lips. She would if she did not back away feel his grip tighten about her waist. “What a dangerous thing to say, darling. I’m beginning to wonder if you know what that even means.”
She would feel herself lift if she did not push away, rush away from him. If the prodding, almost exploratory kiss remained ongoing, he would break it. He did not seem particularly burdened by her weight. She might be strong, but she was ultimately a slip of a thing. His head leaded towards her ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur almost conspiratory as he continued, his breath warm against her ear. “You want me to scold you for going to Gideon? Is that what you’re after? A punishment for crossing the line? Or maybe...” He paused, letting the words settle between them, “...you’re looking for something else entirely. Something only I can give you.”
His grip would shift, his hands a bit lower as Mathias shrugged to pull her higher. Enough that she could clearly meet his gaze, his expression sharp and unreadable, the flicker of amusement in his eyes doing nothing to soften their intensity. “Gideon is a distraction, Winnie. A dangerous one. He thrives on chaos, on pulling the threads of others’ lives just to watch them unravel.” He would take a step back, leading her towards the chair to his rear. A second, deeper kiss if she did not fight him off, he would turn around and place her in the chair. His hands would relinquish their grip on whatever hip, waist, ass-like area the mods consider to be PG13 appropriate, leaving a chill in their wake. “Don’t mistake his games for anything more than what they are. And don’t think I won’t notice when my fiancée decides to play along.”
He stepped back, creating just enough space to make her feel the absence, his eyes still locked on hers. He would drink her in, finally taking the moment to do so. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone softer now, though there was an unmistakable edge to his words. “You’ve always been beautiful, Winnie. But don’t forget what drew me to you in the first place. It wasn’t just your beauty—it was your strength.” He was not referring to her athletic prowess either.
Mathias reached for the towel again, wiping the sweat from his neck and shoulders, his movements deliberate and measured. “You want me to see you, to understand what you’re doing?” He gave a small, humorless chuckle. “I do see you. Every piece of you. And I’ve already decided what you’re worth to me years ago." He never expressed an interest in another woman or man for that matter. His interests have always been solely on her. "But don’t ever think you’re the one pulling the strings here.”
He stepped closer again, towering over her now, his presence overwhelming. “If you want to test me, if you want to push, then do it. But understand this: I will always have control, Winnie. You can fight, you can adapt, you can shed your old skin and become someone new. I welcome it. But at the end of the day...” He leaned in, if she was standing by now or still sitting, it mattered little considering how small she was. His voice barely above a whisper. “...you’re mine. And no amount of war paint or bold words will change that.”
He straightened, his expression softening just slightly, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you really want, darling? I'm, always game to make-out. And, if you’re looking for a fight, you should know by now...” His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. “...I never lose.”
Notes:
- If at any point this is uncomfortable, edit requests will be respected by Winnie or her RL husband.
- If Winnie choses to break from this pattern at any point, please let me know and we can again make the necessary edit.
Event NPC
5 Dec 2024, 03:02
Black Iron
‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿
Interacting: @Mathias Pride
Mentioning:
Winnie’s eyes widened when Matt’s hand was placed over hers. It was stirring a longing within her she wasn’t aware had been there until now. It was terrifying how she longed to be close to him, even after everything he had put her through.
Thunk. The small purse she had been holding her belongings in was dropped and forgotten on the stone floor below.
“Since when— How long have you been… I mean, Merlin, Matt, look at you.” She was stumbling over her words already, but the sight had taken her by surprise, even more so the feeling of his muscles.
She tried to keep her poker face at the mention of Percival. He was trying to get a reaction out of her, and had started below the belt interestingly enough. Though she had been thankful for Percival’s support during the Gala, it had blown the cover on their friendship and left him exposed to Mathias’ wraith.
“The good old days?” She repeated, a plucked brow raising, “I’ve never been the newspaper type until recently, actually. One issue of the Daily Prophet caught my eye. I had to admire the behind the scenes craftsmanship.” Hoping her deflection would shift his focus away from the older Slytherin was probably pointless, but it was better to not give him a reaction.
Her attempt to provoke him failed wonderfully, but it wasn’t a huge surprise. Someone like Mathias didn’t have buttons that were easily pushed.
She’d make no effort to push him away; she had walked right into this. She’d let him devour her, but would match his movements. Fingernails pressed into bare skin, leaving marks she doubted would faze him.
When she was lift into the air, she’d break away to squeak in surprise, much to her own horror, “M-Mattie—!" Her arms wrapped around his neck to steady herself, her curled red hair ruffled from the make out session and framing her flushed face. “Show off…” Her heart was pounding against her chest, every nerve buzzing with the intensity of his touch.
How could she have underestimated his strength? He used to be noodle armed and helpless. Not that it mattered; Winnie had been too love stricken to care, vowing to protect him with her own physical strength. She used to carry him around and now he was tossing her in the air like she weighed nothing more than a sack of flour. Just like that, the one advantage she had was gone.
“I suppose that depends on the punishment.” It would take a moment to register what he was saying. “Just what are you suggesting? That I came down here to swap spit with you?” Technically yes but that wasn’t the only reason she had hunt him down.
She took in a sharp breath, pulling an arm back to use her thumb to wipe a smudge of red off of his lips, “If you don’t want me to seek out Gideon, then you can answer my questions for me. You sprung this all on me in one night, Mathias. You expect me to lay down and accept my fate? Let you dictate my life?”
Her lips pulled into a thin line, blue eyes scanning his face, “Merlin, Matt, I’m starting to think you might be scared of the guy. We spoke once, I hardly think that’s grounds for him to develop an obsession or fascination.” The kisses between his words were disorientating, but Winnie thought perhaps they were meant to be. There was no sense in fighting against them, and if anyone happened to walk by they would just assume the two were in the midst of a heavy snogging session.
Despite managing to keep up with his kisses, she was left breathless by the time he placed her in the chair. She took in several deep gasps to refill her lungs.
Winnie sat in silence for a moment, allowing his words to linger around her like a cage. His fiancée. “I made him a hat.” She said, knowing it was no use downplaying what she had done, “In return I found out that Gideon seems to think he is the heir.” This was not true, but she wasn’t about to tell him what he had actually said.
“You know… if an animal is trapped it will chew off its own foot to escape.” A grim piece of trivia, but she doubted Mathias would care.
Blue eyes flickered up to watch the Slytherin, the step back he had taken left her feeling empty. “Growing up I used to find snap traps with nothing but a bloody stump. I wonder what self destructive path I’ll follow if you continue to corner me.”
Her jaw clenched as she went back over the information Gideon had shared with her. She was smart enough to put two and two together, at least this time. She knew the family had published the article. It hadn’t been the wizarding world celebrating, it was his family dangling how ‘progressive’ they were in everyone’s faces. Meanwhile, Matt had not been given the family name, had wanted to get into his family’s good graces. He could have picked a nice pureblood girl or a seer. Instead, he had picked Winnie Harper. It didn’t add up, unless the mixed blood relationship was something their family needed.“Mattie, were you drawn to me because of my strength or because you needed a muggleborn and I was an easy target? You filled the empty spaces, used my loneliness against me; you made me believe I was important to you. Then you threatened me at the Gala, implied you’d feed me to the hags. So, don’t you dare lie to me again— Either I’m important to you or I’m the girl you throw to the wolves.”
Her voice broke, but she swallowed her despair, reminded herself she couldn’t keep reacting. “I loved you, Mathias.” Her throat felt raw as she admitted her feelings, “Despite how hard I’ve fought against my feelings, I still do. I keep combing through your braids of lies, asking myself what was real and what wasn’t real. I don’t know where the truth ends and where the lies start.”
She didn’t flinch when he leaned closer to her. She would not shrink under his gaze. This wasn’t the same as the gala; she had time to process the information, and she no longer believed he would physically harm her. Instead her lips would curl into a sad smile. ”It almost sounds like you’re saying you love me.”
She’d push up from the chair, and stride back over to him. She leaned down to pick up the leather handbag she had dropped. The redhead retrieved her compact, opening it to pat at her lips and make sure her lipstick had not smudged.
“Oh, I’m not naive enough to believe I can pull at your strings, Mattie.” She admitted, her compact slapping closed. “I do know that I can make your life more complicated than it needs to be.” She dropped the compact into her purse, then tossed it into the chair behind them.
A hand brushed her hair away from her face, She took another step towards him, raising a hand to rest against his chest again. Just for added dramatics, definitely no other reason. “What I want from you is the truth. What I want from you is for you to stop treating my friends like your own personal playthings.”
Her free hand slid to his left bicep, then quickly realized it was a mistake. She felt her face heat up. Damn him, he was stripping away any fake confidence she had spent time building. All the carefully practiced conversations she had in her head hadn’t prepared her for Matt being… Well, hotter than he already had been. She quickly realized she had been staring at him in silence again. Shit shit shit— what had she been saying? Focus, Winnie! Stupid sexy Matt. At this point she was going to have to wear a blindfold.
“Third… If you want me to be your wife, you’re going to have to prepare me for what it means to be your wife, or else I’ll be drawn in by every threat.” A social warfare expert she was not. Pureblood society seemed cutthroat. "Finally… I know I’m yours, Mattie. I’ve… never not been yours. But I’m not an object; I’m still a human being. I have hopes and dreams, and you need to give me a bit of damn breathing room."
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |
5 Dec 2024, 22:03
Black Iron
“Since when— How long have you been… I mean, Merlin, Matt, look at you.”
Months he silently answered. The robes hide a great deal. The summer had afforded him the opportunity and as of late her absence had afforded him a great deal of free time.
Mathias stood still, Winnie's words wrapping around him like smoke—elusive, clinging, and impossible to escape. His chest rose and fell evenly, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the dim torchlight of the cool dungeon, he caught a chill in the darkness but he did not betray this. Inside, his thoughts churned. Winnie had always been stubborn, always worn her emotions on her sleeve. It was one of the things that drew him to her and one of the things that made her so easy to manipulate.
“I suppose that depends on the punishment. Just what are you suggesting? That I came down here to swap spit with you?”
He answered with a confident smirk. His truth was a tangle of diametrically opposed concepts, of ambition and manipulation as well as of love and wanting. He both loved and hated the Ravenclaw with every fiber of his being. Winnie was not the person he had fallen in love with, pursued like prey and dominated. She had become something he wanted to discard, to drive away. Yet there were these moments, like this one, that drew him back in like a moth to a flame. The reminded him of a primal and strange part of himself that wanted her.
“If you don’t want me to seek out Gideon, then you can answer my questions for me. You sprung this all on me in one night, Mathias. You expect me to lay down and accept my fate? Let you dictate my life?”
But now? Now Winnie wasn’t just resisting. She was demanding something Mathias wasn’t prepared to give: honesty. Honesty brought a vulnerability that he would never give to her willingly.
His hand rested on hers again, his grip firm but not harsh, and he tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. There was a flicker of something unreadable there, buried beneath layers of control. It was a pain he was unwilling to express.
“Winnie,” he said softly, his tone dangerously calm, “you’re asking for the truth, but you don’t understand what that means. You think you do, but the truth isn’t some shiny trinket to admire. It’s a blade, sharp and merciless. And once you hold it, there’s no turning back.” He knew many truths and they tore at him. He was at his core more angry than lonesome, more prideful than ambitious. Company was easy to find, everything even love could be found for the right price. Angry at his family, at the world he was going to need to tear down to ultimately rebuild and at her.
“Merlin, Matt, I’m starting to think you might be scared of the guy. We spoke once, I hardly think that’s grounds for him to develop an obsession or fascination.”
She was trying to weaponize his family and his paranoia. He saw it. She claimed that they had only spoke once and he did not believe her. Perhaps his paranoia was shining through. The Slytherin let his hand slide from hers, stepping back to create just enough distance to make her feel its weight. To let the Ravenclaw's flesh feel the chill of his absence. He did not want to touch her and think about her next betrayal while he pondered Gideon's alleged ambition. Yet even as he moved, he stayed tethered to her with his gaze.
“Mattie, were you drawn to me because of my strength or because you needed a muggleborn and I was an easy target? You filled the empty spaces, used my loneliness against me; you made me believe I was important to you. Then you threatened me at the Gala, implied you’d feed me to the hags. So, don’t you dare lie to me again— Either I’m important to you or I’m the girl you throw to the wolves.”
You're both," he admitted with an honesty she might have been unprepared for. “You think I chose you because you were an easy target?”[/b][/color] His voice hardened, each word laced with restrained intensity. "That it was what, odds in the favor of others that drew me to you?" How cruel he mused.
His memories brought him back to the day they met, the edge of his thin lips quirked upward into a faint smirk. She had yelled at him over something or other. An obvious triviality. She had the audacity to throw a drink in his face, and from that moment he knew that they belonged together. He flirted, calling her a "house elf" and her interest in him was rather obvious as well when she tried to feel him up, down... Well, it was all a bit too fast for him, they needed a proper first date before they got so handsy.
She did not remember their first meeting, perhaps not subsequent meetings either. How passion and comfort transcended memory and familiarity. Shame the same could not be said of fidelity, while he only had eyes for her, he knew that she did not, could not, and would never feel the same.
“Do you think anyone in my position would risk the scrutiny, the whispers, the judgment of my family for someone who didn’t matter? You’re not a pawn, Winnie. You’re a piece of the foundation I’m building. Without you, the house I desire falls.” He could have said he cared for her, that he wanted to be with her because his heart dictated such. Mathias was not capable of such honesty or vulnerability.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his damp, red hair. “But yes,” he admitted, his tone lower now, almost a growl. “There were calculations. There always are. My family needed a symbol, something to sell their ‘progressive’ ideals while I clawed my way back into their good graces. And you... you were perfect.” Out of hundreds of possibilities, many that would have been willing, he chose her.
Mathias stepped closer again, his presence overwhelming, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But don’t mistake ambition for indifference. Don’t think for a second that I don’t see you, that I don’t feel everything you do to me.” His hand moved to her chin, tilting her face upward so her blue eyes met his. “You drive me mad, Winnie. Mad with wanting, with frustration, with...” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. A flurry of non-PG13 thoughts.
Control. He couldn’t lose it now.
“I loved you, Mathias... Despite how hard I’ve fought against my feelings, I still do. I keep combing through your braids of lies, asking myself what was real and what wasn’t real. I don’t know where the truth ends and where the lies start.”
Her words about love echoed in his mind, cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. I loved you, Mathias. The way she had said it, the rawness in her voice—it struck something in him, something buried so deep he’d forgotten it was even there. It was in the past tense. He understood that. She probably never loved him, he internally admitted. She loved a lie. The perfect boyfriend, who when he failed to be considerate enough, present enough, was no longer worthy. He would dose her then, time and time again. Keep her pliable, compliant and happy. Otherwise he would never be happy with him. Even with a legacy of perfection as her memory, she sought comfort in the arms of others. He understood how unlovable he was and was tired of pretending.
So he no longer bothered.
”It almost sounds like you’re saying you love me.”
He did not answer her.
He released her chin, stepping back once more, pacing like a predator trying to calm itself. “You’re right about one thing,” he said after a long pause. “You’ve never not been mine. But I’m not scared of Gideon," he said a small lie. "And I’m not scared of losing you," he claimed with confidence. "Because I won’t.” His eyes narrowed, his voice darkening. “If I have to tear down every obstacle, burn every bridge, I’ll keep you by my side." His brow lowered and his voice developed a slight rumble. "You think you’re cornered now? You haven’t seen what I’ll do if anyone tries to take you from me.” And he was only getting started.
“What I want from you is the truth. What I want from you is for you to stop treating my friends like your own personal playthings.”
Mathias reached out again, this time brushing a stray strand of red hair from her face, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “And what is my incentive? Your heart? Your renewed compliance? I don't need either... That’s not why I chose you. That’s not why I need you. But don’t mistake my need for weakness.” His voice lowered, almost tender. “Because if you ever try to leave me, you won’t like what’s left of me. And neither will anyone else.”
“Third… If you want me to be your wife, you’re going to have to prepare me for what it means to be your wife, or else I’ll be drawn in by every threat..."
Back to making demands. This one asking for lessons? she just threatened to make his life that she did not understand more "complicated" and likened her experience to being ghame caught in a trap forced to gnaw off their own leg. That was a quick turn around.
Before he could answer, she continued. "Finally… I know I’m yours, Mattie. I’ve… never not been yours. But I’m not an object; I’m still a human being. I have hopes and dreams, and you need to give me a bit of damn breathing room."
"Breathing room?" he echoed incredulously. "You have found the time and the space to hold clandestine meetings with members of my family and with potential paramours. Exactly how have I suffocated you?" He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "You are trying to make a deal with a pureblood of means that has only had eyes for you. "All you do... all you have ever done is fight me," he reminded her. He let his hand fall, stepping back once more, his expression inscrutable. “Now, tell me. Are you ready to stop fighting me, or do you need more convincing?”
Months he silently answered. The robes hide a great deal. The summer had afforded him the opportunity and as of late her absence had afforded him a great deal of free time.
Mathias stood still, Winnie's words wrapping around him like smoke—elusive, clinging, and impossible to escape. His chest rose and fell evenly, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the dim torchlight of the cool dungeon, he caught a chill in the darkness but he did not betray this. Inside, his thoughts churned. Winnie had always been stubborn, always worn her emotions on her sleeve. It was one of the things that drew him to her and one of the things that made her so easy to manipulate.
“I suppose that depends on the punishment. Just what are you suggesting? That I came down here to swap spit with you?”
He answered with a confident smirk. His truth was a tangle of diametrically opposed concepts, of ambition and manipulation as well as of love and wanting. He both loved and hated the Ravenclaw with every fiber of his being. Winnie was not the person he had fallen in love with, pursued like prey and dominated. She had become something he wanted to discard, to drive away. Yet there were these moments, like this one, that drew him back in like a moth to a flame. The reminded him of a primal and strange part of himself that wanted her.
“If you don’t want me to seek out Gideon, then you can answer my questions for me. You sprung this all on me in one night, Mathias. You expect me to lay down and accept my fate? Let you dictate my life?”
But now? Now Winnie wasn’t just resisting. She was demanding something Mathias wasn’t prepared to give: honesty. Honesty brought a vulnerability that he would never give to her willingly.
His hand rested on hers again, his grip firm but not harsh, and he tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. There was a flicker of something unreadable there, buried beneath layers of control. It was a pain he was unwilling to express.
“Winnie,” he said softly, his tone dangerously calm, “you’re asking for the truth, but you don’t understand what that means. You think you do, but the truth isn’t some shiny trinket to admire. It’s a blade, sharp and merciless. And once you hold it, there’s no turning back.” He knew many truths and they tore at him. He was at his core more angry than lonesome, more prideful than ambitious. Company was easy to find, everything even love could be found for the right price. Angry at his family, at the world he was going to need to tear down to ultimately rebuild and at her.
“Merlin, Matt, I’m starting to think you might be scared of the guy. We spoke once, I hardly think that’s grounds for him to develop an obsession or fascination.”
She was trying to weaponize his family and his paranoia. He saw it. She claimed that they had only spoke once and he did not believe her. Perhaps his paranoia was shining through. The Slytherin let his hand slide from hers, stepping back to create just enough distance to make her feel its weight. To let the Ravenclaw's flesh feel the chill of his absence. He did not want to touch her and think about her next betrayal while he pondered Gideon's alleged ambition. Yet even as he moved, he stayed tethered to her with his gaze.
“Mattie, were you drawn to me because of my strength or because you needed a muggleborn and I was an easy target? You filled the empty spaces, used my loneliness against me; you made me believe I was important to you. Then you threatened me at the Gala, implied you’d feed me to the hags. So, don’t you dare lie to me again— Either I’m important to you or I’m the girl you throw to the wolves.”
You're both," he admitted with an honesty she might have been unprepared for. “You think I chose you because you were an easy target?”[/b][/color] His voice hardened, each word laced with restrained intensity. "That it was what, odds in the favor of others that drew me to you?" How cruel he mused.
His memories brought him back to the day they met, the edge of his thin lips quirked upward into a faint smirk. She had yelled at him over something or other. An obvious triviality. She had the audacity to throw a drink in his face, and from that moment he knew that they belonged together. He flirted, calling her a "house elf" and her interest in him was rather obvious as well when she tried to feel him up, down... Well, it was all a bit too fast for him, they needed a proper first date before they got so handsy.
She did not remember their first meeting, perhaps not subsequent meetings either. How passion and comfort transcended memory and familiarity. Shame the same could not be said of fidelity, while he only had eyes for her, he knew that she did not, could not, and would never feel the same.
“Do you think anyone in my position would risk the scrutiny, the whispers, the judgment of my family for someone who didn’t matter? You’re not a pawn, Winnie. You’re a piece of the foundation I’m building. Without you, the house I desire falls.” He could have said he cared for her, that he wanted to be with her because his heart dictated such. Mathias was not capable of such honesty or vulnerability.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his damp, red hair. “But yes,” he admitted, his tone lower now, almost a growl. “There were calculations. There always are. My family needed a symbol, something to sell their ‘progressive’ ideals while I clawed my way back into their good graces. And you... you were perfect.” Out of hundreds of possibilities, many that would have been willing, he chose her.
Mathias stepped closer again, his presence overwhelming, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But don’t mistake ambition for indifference. Don’t think for a second that I don’t see you, that I don’t feel everything you do to me.” His hand moved to her chin, tilting her face upward so her blue eyes met his. “You drive me mad, Winnie. Mad with wanting, with frustration, with...” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. A flurry of non-PG13 thoughts.
Control. He couldn’t lose it now.
“I loved you, Mathias... Despite how hard I’ve fought against my feelings, I still do. I keep combing through your braids of lies, asking myself what was real and what wasn’t real. I don’t know where the truth ends and where the lies start.”
Her words about love echoed in his mind, cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. I loved you, Mathias. The way she had said it, the rawness in her voice—it struck something in him, something buried so deep he’d forgotten it was even there. It was in the past tense. He understood that. She probably never loved him, he internally admitted. She loved a lie. The perfect boyfriend, who when he failed to be considerate enough, present enough, was no longer worthy. He would dose her then, time and time again. Keep her pliable, compliant and happy. Otherwise he would never be happy with him. Even with a legacy of perfection as her memory, she sought comfort in the arms of others. He understood how unlovable he was and was tired of pretending.
So he no longer bothered.
”It almost sounds like you’re saying you love me.”
He did not answer her.
He released her chin, stepping back once more, pacing like a predator trying to calm itself. “You’re right about one thing,” he said after a long pause. “You’ve never not been mine. But I’m not scared of Gideon," he said a small lie. "And I’m not scared of losing you," he claimed with confidence. "Because I won’t.” His eyes narrowed, his voice darkening. “If I have to tear down every obstacle, burn every bridge, I’ll keep you by my side." His brow lowered and his voice developed a slight rumble. "You think you’re cornered now? You haven’t seen what I’ll do if anyone tries to take you from me.” And he was only getting started.
“What I want from you is the truth. What I want from you is for you to stop treating my friends like your own personal playthings.”
Mathias reached out again, this time brushing a stray strand of red hair from her face, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “And what is my incentive? Your heart? Your renewed compliance? I don't need either... That’s not why I chose you. That’s not why I need you. But don’t mistake my need for weakness.” His voice lowered, almost tender. “Because if you ever try to leave me, you won’t like what’s left of me. And neither will anyone else.”
“Third… If you want me to be your wife, you’re going to have to prepare me for what it means to be your wife, or else I’ll be drawn in by every threat..."
Back to making demands. This one asking for lessons? she just threatened to make his life that she did not understand more "complicated" and likened her experience to being ghame caught in a trap forced to gnaw off their own leg. That was a quick turn around.
Before he could answer, she continued. "Finally… I know I’m yours, Mattie. I’ve… never not been yours. But I’m not an object; I’m still a human being. I have hopes and dreams, and you need to give me a bit of damn breathing room."
"Breathing room?" he echoed incredulously. "You have found the time and the space to hold clandestine meetings with members of my family and with potential paramours. Exactly how have I suffocated you?" He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "You are trying to make a deal with a pureblood of means that has only had eyes for you. "All you do... all you have ever done is fight me," he reminded her. He let his hand fall, stepping back once more, his expression inscrutable. “Now, tell me. Are you ready to stop fighting me, or do you need more convincing?”
Event NPC
6 Dec 2024, 01:02
Black Iron
‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿
Interacting: @Mathias Pride
Mentioning:
His smirk only caused the heat in her cheeks to rise again. It was getting considerably harder to smoother her old self when her emotions were getting in the way, but Winnie had always been a ball of emotions.
Her jaw clenched as she willed herself to keep her composure, but he was ripping through the walls she had built with practiced ease. How foolish she had been to believe she could manage to bury her old self prematurely. "You're... Insufferable at times, you know that?!" She spat out her frustrated complaint before she could stop it. "Do you always have to look so smug?"
She closed her eyes, trying to take in several grounding deep breaths, but she could still see the outline of his form, that smug smile. Really she should have been used to it by now, but she could still remember how angry it had made her the night they'd met so many years ago.
Her eyes snapped open. Huh, something new. The sight of juice splashing his face and clothing. A concave chest as a young Mathias demanded she do his laundry. She could remember how flustered her 13 year old self had been even back then.
The hand sliding against her own pulled her from her thoughts, hazel eyes meeting her own blue. She had always liked his eyes, spring hues that swirled with the calming shades of brown. There was always something else, a storm brewing beneath it all, layers of something hidden behind the walls
"You're right, I don't understand what that means." She agreed, her hand gently squeezing his own. Gone was the brash voice from moments earlier, replaced with a quiet, almost gentle, tone, "But you're asking me to blindly trust you weeks after I found out you've been erasing my memories for years."
She fell silent for a moment, enough that she could hear the sound of water dripping off the dungeon walls. "Let me in, Matt. You don't have to tell me everything, but... tell me something."
His withdraw was a silent message, but it felt more like a slap across the face. He had only stepped mere feet away from her but his absence left a chill she was not prepared for. Tangled up in her puppet strings she was pinned in place.
The weight of the Slytherin's words settled around her. Both. She was both. She had been bracing herself for something harsh, but not this. "Perfect." She half-whispered. So she was important until she out lived her usefulness. The message was sent loud and clear.
By her side, Winnie's hands balled into fist. Her pink painted nails digging crescent marks into her palms. Without you, the house I desire falls. But why? Why her? There were so many others in the school with muggle blood, and he had already claimed it wasn't simply because she was an easy target. He had answered her, but it was an answer she was unwilling to believe. Why was it easier to believe she was a pawn in his game? Why was it so difficult for her to believe the Slytherin might have actual feelings for her?
"Thank you," She said, taking in another breath, "For telling me a truth. It will... It will be helpful for when I have to meet them." His family, that was.
The Ravenclaw's breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his words, her eyes drifted over the lines of his shoulders, the new curves in his abdomen... Dammit! Her eyes snapped back up to his face, "Matt..." Her throat felt dry, "You don't think you don't do the same damn thing to me?"
She gestured towards his new chiseled body, "Just... Just LOOK at you, for Merlin's sake. You were always attractive and now... God, it looks like you've been photoshopped in real life." A muggle reference he likely would not get. "When you kiss me, the way you..." She trailed off, "You make me lose my damn mind."
Why did he keep pulling away from her? It was maddening. She wanted to be close to him, even now. Heels clicked against the stone as she took a step towards him. You haven’t seen what I’ll do if anyone tries to take you from me. Her face shifted through a mixture of emotions, a shocked look, the furrowed brow of concern, finally a twitch in the corner of her lip, a ghost of a smile. "Yes, you have me cornered, but I don't need to see the other three corners to know I've been caged by you.
"You know... People have an odd habit of leaving me, Matt." Her father had left, many of her friends, even Jack had been sent away. The Ravenclaw couldn't help but feel there was a twisted kind of assurance in the certainty of his possessiveness. "Maybe I'm not an easy person to be around." Closing the distance between them, her arms slid around his core, face resting against his chest.
A shudder ran up the redhead's spine at her boyfriend's threats. She was starting to accept he had a fondness for her, however twisted it may have been. Still, his warnings still made her want to break free and run the opposite direction. "No. You already have my heart." It had been his for years, despite her efforts to break away, to give the shattered pieces to someone else. "However broken it may be."
"That... That's not true..." Wasn't it? She had met with Gideon to ask for advice on how to escape him, even had a secret meeting with Percival during the summer to ask for his help. "I... I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about... Quidditch." Her voice lowered with the confession. She was almost embarrassed at how trivial it sounded when Mathias laid all "I mean, Merlin, Matt... You're making plans for our children already."
She wasn't the animal who was lashing out; it was Matt.
How could she possibly promise she'd stop fighting? It would be a blatant lie and she was only just stepping into the battlefield, "Stop fighting? You know I can't promise that. You said yourself it's all that I've ever done and... I can't have you growing bored of me, now can I?"
"I can’t keep lying to myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m not tangled up in all of this—in you." There was a strange finality to her voice, an acceptance of the inevitable, like a deer walking directly in front of a hunter's scope. "I hope you bought a replacement ring, because I already made my choice, Matt. I wouldn't be down here if I hadn't."
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |
6 Dec 2024, 02:41
Black Iron
"You're... Insufferable at times, you know that?! Do you always have to look so smug?"
"Yes." He answered without hesitation or thought. Some ladies had a resting bitch face, and like them, he could not help his face.
"You're right, I don't understand what that means. But you're asking me to blindly trust you weeks after I found out you've been erasing my memories for years." There was no denying this, he was and he had even went as far as to admit such. "Let me in, Matt. You don't have to tell me everything, but... tell me something."
He was not ready for that sort of vulnerability. That depth of intimacy. He withdrew instead, it was easier.
"Matt... You don't think you don't do the same damn thing to me?" He stiffened as she gestured towards his recently developed form. "Just... Just LOOK at you, for Merlin's sake. You were always attractive and now... God, it looks like you've been photoshopped in real life." He had no idea what photoshop was, he assumed it was like a modeling headshot. Technically he was not far off. "When you kiss me, the way you... You make me lose my damn mind."
Her mention of his body earned a flicker of amusement in his eyes, though it was quickly swallowed by something far more predatory. “You think this,” he gestured briefly to himself, “is a distraction? Something I’ve done to throw you off balance?” He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver through the space between them. “Maybe it is. Or maybe I’ve just been biding my time, waiting for you to see me the way I’ve always seen you.”
Mathias’s eyes narrowed slightly as Winnie’s words filled the space between them. She claimed this, but "you always wanted to be elsewhere. I was never enough, even when your other options were lesser."
"Yes, you have me cornered, but I don't need to see the other three corners to know I've been caged by you. You know... People have an odd habit of leaving me, Matt... Maybe I'm not an easy person to be around."
Her defiance, her raw emotion, her inability to mask her vulnerabilities—it was intoxicating and maddening all at once. The flush on her cheeks, the fire in her voice, even her stumbling confessions—every part of her fueled the storm brewing inside him.
He let her words settle, allowed the silence to stretch just long enough to feel oppressive, his green eyes fixed on hers with a weight that made it impossible for her to look away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, deliberate, and charged with restrained intensity.
“You talk about being caged as if it’s something I’ve done to you. But tell me, Winnie—when you wrap your arms around me like this, who’s really holding who?” His hand lifted to cover hers where it rested on his chest, his grip firm, possessive. “You keep saying you want the truth. That you want to be let in. But what happens when you get too close to the fire? Do you plan to let it burn away what’s left of you?”
He paused, his gaze searching hers as though daring her to answer, before continuing, his tone darkening. “You’ve been fighting me from the moment we met. Pushing, pulling, running, clawing. And yet, here you are. Not out of love, or even lust. You are trying to extricate yourself from me.”
He knew what she was doing. Why she had been meeting with his brother, with other men. He said as much.
"That... That's not true..." She claimed. Was Giddy the liar? Was his instinct about Percival, Finnegan, perhaps even Jack wrong? "I... I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about... Quidditch."
Yeah... no. She could have claimed she was talking crafts, stuffed animals, various forms of torture with Gideon and he would have believed her. But Gideon had no interest in sports. He felt... disappointment but only a momentary flicker in his eyes would betray his sentiment.
"I mean, Merlin, Matt... You're making plans for our children already."
"You realize that normal people want that right? They want a family with the person they loved? He countered, sounding almost incredulous that it was only him that was willing to look forward.
"Stop fighting? You know I can't promise that. You said yourself it's all that I've ever done and... I can't have you growing bored of me, now can I?"
Her closeness stirred something primal in him, but Mathias held himself in check, refusing to let his control slip. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer until there was no space left between them. “You say you can’t promise to stop fighting, that it’s all you’ve ever known. But don’t you see, Winnie? That’s what I want. I don’t want someone who bends, who breaks. I want someone who fights. I just want less of your father's daughter and more... someone that is strong enough to stand by me, even when the whole world is against us.”
His grip on her waist tightened briefly before he eased back, his hand sliding up to brush a strand of red hair from her face. “But you also need to learn when to stop fighting me. Because when you do, you’ll see what I’ve been building for us, for you. This isn’t about me dictating your life, Winnie. It’s about me giving you a place in mine—one that no one else can take.”
Mathias’s voice softened, but the intensity of his words didn’t waver. “You want to know why I chose you? Why it had to be you? It’s because, no matter how much you doubt yourself, I’ve never doubted you. Not once. You think I keep pulling away because I don’t care? It’s the opposite. I pull away because if I let myself feel too much, I’ll destroy everything just to keep you.”
He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing her cheek as he leaned in, his voice barely audible now. “And Merlin help me, Winnie, if you ever truly leave me, I won’t stop looking until I bring you back. Because you may think you’ve made your choice, but I made mine years ago. You’re mine, and no one else will ever have you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk as he pulled back slightly, his hand lingering on her face. “Now, about that ring..." He let his voice fade as if he was attempting to make a decision.
But the smirk faded as quickly as it came, replaced by the shadow of something deeper, something dangerous. “And if you ever go to Gideon again, we’ll see how much fight you really have.”
The warning hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Mathias didn’t need to raise his voice to make his point.
“So, Winnie... Are you ready to stop pretending this isn’t exactly where you belong?”
"Yes." He answered without hesitation or thought. Some ladies had a resting bitch face, and like them, he could not help his face.
"You're right, I don't understand what that means. But you're asking me to blindly trust you weeks after I found out you've been erasing my memories for years." There was no denying this, he was and he had even went as far as to admit such. "Let me in, Matt. You don't have to tell me everything, but... tell me something."
He was not ready for that sort of vulnerability. That depth of intimacy. He withdrew instead, it was easier.
"Matt... You don't think you don't do the same damn thing to me?" He stiffened as she gestured towards his recently developed form. "Just... Just LOOK at you, for Merlin's sake. You were always attractive and now... God, it looks like you've been photoshopped in real life." He had no idea what photoshop was, he assumed it was like a modeling headshot. Technically he was not far off. "When you kiss me, the way you... You make me lose my damn mind."
Her mention of his body earned a flicker of amusement in his eyes, though it was quickly swallowed by something far more predatory. “You think this,” he gestured briefly to himself, “is a distraction? Something I’ve done to throw you off balance?” He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver through the space between them. “Maybe it is. Or maybe I’ve just been biding my time, waiting for you to see me the way I’ve always seen you.”
Mathias’s eyes narrowed slightly as Winnie’s words filled the space between them. She claimed this, but "you always wanted to be elsewhere. I was never enough, even when your other options were lesser."
"Yes, you have me cornered, but I don't need to see the other three corners to know I've been caged by you. You know... People have an odd habit of leaving me, Matt... Maybe I'm not an easy person to be around."
Her defiance, her raw emotion, her inability to mask her vulnerabilities—it was intoxicating and maddening all at once. The flush on her cheeks, the fire in her voice, even her stumbling confessions—every part of her fueled the storm brewing inside him.
He let her words settle, allowed the silence to stretch just long enough to feel oppressive, his green eyes fixed on hers with a weight that made it impossible for her to look away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, deliberate, and charged with restrained intensity.
“You talk about being caged as if it’s something I’ve done to you. But tell me, Winnie—when you wrap your arms around me like this, who’s really holding who?” His hand lifted to cover hers where it rested on his chest, his grip firm, possessive. “You keep saying you want the truth. That you want to be let in. But what happens when you get too close to the fire? Do you plan to let it burn away what’s left of you?”
He paused, his gaze searching hers as though daring her to answer, before continuing, his tone darkening. “You’ve been fighting me from the moment we met. Pushing, pulling, running, clawing. And yet, here you are. Not out of love, or even lust. You are trying to extricate yourself from me.”
He knew what she was doing. Why she had been meeting with his brother, with other men. He said as much.
"That... That's not true..." She claimed. Was Giddy the liar? Was his instinct about Percival, Finnegan, perhaps even Jack wrong? "I... I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about... Quidditch."
Yeah... no. She could have claimed she was talking crafts, stuffed animals, various forms of torture with Gideon and he would have believed her. But Gideon had no interest in sports. He felt... disappointment but only a momentary flicker in his eyes would betray his sentiment.
"I mean, Merlin, Matt... You're making plans for our children already."
"You realize that normal people want that right? They want a family with the person they loved? He countered, sounding almost incredulous that it was only him that was willing to look forward.
"Stop fighting? You know I can't promise that. You said yourself it's all that I've ever done and... I can't have you growing bored of me, now can I?"
Her closeness stirred something primal in him, but Mathias held himself in check, refusing to let his control slip. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer until there was no space left between them. “You say you can’t promise to stop fighting, that it’s all you’ve ever known. But don’t you see, Winnie? That’s what I want. I don’t want someone who bends, who breaks. I want someone who fights. I just want less of your father's daughter and more... someone that is strong enough to stand by me, even when the whole world is against us.”
His grip on her waist tightened briefly before he eased back, his hand sliding up to brush a strand of red hair from her face. “But you also need to learn when to stop fighting me. Because when you do, you’ll see what I’ve been building for us, for you. This isn’t about me dictating your life, Winnie. It’s about me giving you a place in mine—one that no one else can take.”
Mathias’s voice softened, but the intensity of his words didn’t waver. “You want to know why I chose you? Why it had to be you? It’s because, no matter how much you doubt yourself, I’ve never doubted you. Not once. You think I keep pulling away because I don’t care? It’s the opposite. I pull away because if I let myself feel too much, I’ll destroy everything just to keep you.”
He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing her cheek as he leaned in, his voice barely audible now. “And Merlin help me, Winnie, if you ever truly leave me, I won’t stop looking until I bring you back. Because you may think you’ve made your choice, but I made mine years ago. You’re mine, and no one else will ever have you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk as he pulled back slightly, his hand lingering on her face. “Now, about that ring..." He let his voice fade as if he was attempting to make a decision.
But the smirk faded as quickly as it came, replaced by the shadow of something deeper, something dangerous. “And if you ever go to Gideon again, we’ll see how much fight you really have.”
The warning hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Mathias didn’t need to raise his voice to make his point.
“So, Winnie... Are you ready to stop pretending this isn’t exactly where you belong?”
Event NPC
6 Dec 2024, 05:15
Black Iron
‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿
Interacting: @Mathias Pride
Mentioning:
She felt frustrated at her body for reacting this way, this was meant to be the moment she starting to take back her life, instead she was shying away, surrendering to him so easily.
"I don't know!" Was her frustrated response, her voice cracking under the weight of her conflicting emotions. Her face was still flushed as her eyes roamed his body again. Always. He said he had always felt that way about her. She hated how much that information thrilled her. “I feel like I’m losing myself to you. It’s so… it’s so damn frustrating.”
"That's not fair, Matt." Her tone was soft, but strained. "Lets take a closer look at the times I've tried to pull away from you. Like the time you moved schools and ignored me for months. I was heartbroken and left to wonder what I did wrong, only to find out it was another one of your plans."
How dare Matt blame her when she never had a chance to choose. Her words started to come out quicker, as if she had opened a floodgate, "I've only recently started to remember other things, but they are little pieces, fragments of the whole picture. It's not because you weren't enough... It's because you erased my memories. You've taken away my freewill from day one, shaping the story, bending it to suit you."
The Ravenclaw cussed herself mentally for not pulling her hand away as soon as he gripped it, but she couldn't; his touch was as intoxicating as it was suffocating. "T-That's... It's not the same thing, Mattie. You could leave if you..." She trailed off. In truth, she hadn't thought of Mathias wanting another girl since the ball last spring. She had practically exploded at him before storming out. If the tables were turned, if Mathias was interested in another woman... Would she be doing everything in her power to pull him back to her?
If she peered into the looking glass closely enough, would she find that she was a masked monster?
The guilt weighed on her shoulders. She and Percival had not been romantically connected in terms of kissing or heavy petting, so to speak, but it was an emotional affair.
She broke their gaze, tears burning the corners of her eyes. She refused to let them fall. He could not see her break again. "Are you going to let me live the rest of my life in ignorance? What about our children? How am I supposed to protect them?"
"I do love you." The redhead swallowed hard, her eyes lingering upwards to scan over his features, "But I'm also terrified. Just... I just needed time. It's clear to me now that I can't run even if I wanted to."
She had not claimed she spoke to Gideon about Quidditch, she was trying to point out the dilemma of her not being able to play pro. "I do want children, but that's not the point... You seem to think I need to start popping out children as soon as we're married, but... I don't want to do that. Like I said before, Quidditch... I wanted to go pro. That's been my dream for so long, Matt. I just want some room to breathe there."
How dare he keep pulling her in like this, offering his warmth before suddenly pulling away. The comparison to her father stung, but given how desperately she was trying to claw her way out of this situation, it was likely a fair comparison in Matt's eyes. "You chipped away at me, piece by piece. Now you're standing here asking me to be strong? I'm here, aren't I? I can be... Pissed off at you and still fight for you."
The Ravenclaw released a shuddering breath as his words sank in, made it clear there would be no wiggle room in his ironclad plan for their future. His threats sent shivers down her spine, but she was not as intensely scared as she had been during the gala. He had drawn a clear line; he would not let anyone get in his way. Evelynn, Percival, Dee, Aly, Bex, and Finnegan would all be at risk if they tried to interfere.
A hand reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his cheek bone. Her touch lingered, taking in the warmth of his skin. She had fought for so long, the many warning notes she had found tucked away in various books had proven that to her. Surrender felt like the only path left. Her voice had fallen softer, "Give me a glimpse into that life." It was the only way to protect the people she cared about, including Matt. It was clear that he was willing to destroy himself if she tried to run. "If nothing else... That's all I ask of you."
Brushing their lips lightly together, she searched his eyes for something—anything—that might make his threats easier to bear. But all she found was that unrelenting intensity, that undeniable certainty that he would never let her go. The finality of it all made her weak in the knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will her heart to stop hammering against her chest. She wasn't certain if it was more for his benefit or her own, but she'd try to soothe him with soft kisses, "Shh... Okay, okay..."
Keeping away from Gideon would be easy (or so she thought). He was pleasant company, but there was something about him that unsettled her to the bone. Something that wasn't just him tormenting a classmate by dunking their bag into the lake. "No more talks with Gideon... I promise." She would have mentioned the possibly to curse a hat and give it to him, but it was probably not the place or time. He had accepted the first so easily.
Taking a step towards the Slytherin, she'd offer her left hand to him, the symbolism not lost on her. Protect her friends, protect her family, and protect Mathias, just as she always had, this time from himself. She finally took a slow, shaky breath, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Yes."
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |
6 Dec 2024, 21:31
Black Iron
Mathias watched her closely, every tremor in her voice, every flicker of doubt and surrender in her expression feeding his growing sense of victory. Winnie had fought, clawed, and resisted for so long, but now she stood before him offering her hand—her left hand. It was as if she’d placed a crown in his grasp, and Mathias had no intention of letting it slip through his fingers.
Her whispered “Yes” hung in the air, and for a moment, he allowed himself to savor it. The soft kisses she offered, the fragile hope in her gaze—it was proof that she was his, fully and irrevocably. Yet even as his chest swelled with triumph, his mind churned with thoughts of Gideon.
Gideon.
The smug, scheming fool had thought he could plant seeds of rebellion, twist Winnie into his pawn, and come away unscathed. But Mathias had ripped those roots out before they could take hold. Winnie had promised—no more talks with his brother. And Mathias would ensure Gideon paid for ever daring to meddle in his life.
“Good,” he murmured, his voice low, almost tender. His hand closed over hers, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulled her closer. “You’ll see, Winnie. You’ll see that this is where you belong, that everything I’ve done was to protect our future.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch deceptively gentle. “You wanted a glimpse into that life? I’ll give it to you," he promised.
His mind went to the barriers that remained, few they may have been, they would prove to be a nuisance until they were annihilated. His expression darkening as he thought of them. His brothers, her friends, potential paramours, even strangers that decided their personal lives were somehow their business. They’ll pay for their interference, I’ll see to that. Gideon especially. I’ve allowed him too much freedom, too much room to maneuver, but that ends now. Gideon thought he could challenge me, thought he could pull her away... Mathias smirked, the edge of it sharp and unrelenting. “He thought wrong.”
She promised no more talks with Gideon. A promise she was unlikely to keep even if she intended to. The boy was like a curse. No worse, there were counters, antidotes, runes, curse breakers, protective charms. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze returning to her. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. I’ll handle him.” He was more confident than he had any right to be regarding his younger, meddlesome brother.
Mathias’s hand slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. “And as for you, Winnie...” His voice softened, though the intensity never left his eyes. “You’re mine. Not because I’ve shaped you or bent your will, but because you’ve always been mine. Ever since the day we met. Even when you didn’t realize it.”
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “And I don’t let what’s mine go. Ever.”
Straightening, Mathias released her, his hand lingering for just a moment before falling to his side. “You’ll get your breathing room. Your Quidditch dreams—I won’t take those from you. But," there had to be a but. "It is not like you can avoid children if—" He let the thought linger, not that he was particularly coy, it was just that mods and kids read this thread.
“Now, pick up your bag, Winnie. You have my heart, and I have yours. But don’t think for a second that I’ll let anyone—or anything—threaten what we’ve built." That was the first time he used 'we.' "Not even you.”
His voice dropped to a near whisper, ominous and final. “Welcome to the life you chose. I hope you’re ready to live it.” He would bend down for a final kiss before he would give her that space she yearned for. He would find his weights and his towel, he knew better than to leave his playthings out. Sadly, Winnie did not fit in his trunk so he would have to leave her here.
Her whispered “Yes” hung in the air, and for a moment, he allowed himself to savor it. The soft kisses she offered, the fragile hope in her gaze—it was proof that she was his, fully and irrevocably. Yet even as his chest swelled with triumph, his mind churned with thoughts of Gideon.
Gideon.
The smug, scheming fool had thought he could plant seeds of rebellion, twist Winnie into his pawn, and come away unscathed. But Mathias had ripped those roots out before they could take hold. Winnie had promised—no more talks with his brother. And Mathias would ensure Gideon paid for ever daring to meddle in his life.
“Good,” he murmured, his voice low, almost tender. His hand closed over hers, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulled her closer. “You’ll see, Winnie. You’ll see that this is where you belong, that everything I’ve done was to protect our future.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch deceptively gentle. “You wanted a glimpse into that life? I’ll give it to you," he promised.
His mind went to the barriers that remained, few they may have been, they would prove to be a nuisance until they were annihilated. His expression darkening as he thought of them. His brothers, her friends, potential paramours, even strangers that decided their personal lives were somehow their business. They’ll pay for their interference, I’ll see to that. Gideon especially. I’ve allowed him too much freedom, too much room to maneuver, but that ends now. Gideon thought he could challenge me, thought he could pull her away... Mathias smirked, the edge of it sharp and unrelenting. “He thought wrong.”
She promised no more talks with Gideon. A promise she was unlikely to keep even if she intended to. The boy was like a curse. No worse, there were counters, antidotes, runes, curse breakers, protective charms. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze returning to her. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. I’ll handle him.” He was more confident than he had any right to be regarding his younger, meddlesome brother.
Mathias’s hand slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. “And as for you, Winnie...” His voice softened, though the intensity never left his eyes. “You’re mine. Not because I’ve shaped you or bent your will, but because you’ve always been mine. Ever since the day we met. Even when you didn’t realize it.”
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “And I don’t let what’s mine go. Ever.”
Straightening, Mathias released her, his hand lingering for just a moment before falling to his side. “You’ll get your breathing room. Your Quidditch dreams—I won’t take those from you. But," there had to be a but. "It is not like you can avoid children if—" He let the thought linger, not that he was particularly coy, it was just that mods and kids read this thread.
“Now, pick up your bag, Winnie. You have my heart, and I have yours. But don’t think for a second that I’ll let anyone—or anything—threaten what we’ve built." That was the first time he used 'we.' "Not even you.”
His voice dropped to a near whisper, ominous and final. “Welcome to the life you chose. I hope you’re ready to live it.” He would bend down for a final kiss before he would give her that space she yearned for. He would find his weights and his towel, he knew better than to leave his playthings out. Sadly, Winnie did not fit in his trunk so he would have to leave her here.
[Attempting to Leave Topic]
Event NPC
7 Dec 2024, 01:20
Black Iron
‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿
Interacting: @Mathias Pride
Mentioning:
Everything I’ve done was to protect our future. His words were tender, and stirred something inside her that she could not quite explain, a pull to be near him, as she had for over three years. She wanted to believe him, wanted to accept that what he had done was for her own good, but... She wasn't sure if she would ever see it the way he did.
She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against his hand, "Thank you, Mattie." Maybe with a glimpse she would be able to keep her head above the water. Maybe she would not need to drown herself to survive this.
Winnie’s breath hitched as the Slytherin pulled her close, her hands resting against his chest. She took in a slow trembling breath, silently accepting that the final barriers she had desperately tried to cling to were crumbling. "I may... Resent how you've brought me here, but... I'm meant to be..." Her voice faltered for a moment as she accepted her own choices, the fate that had been decided for her so many years ago. "Wherever you are."
The Ravenclaw couldn't stop her features from lighting up when Matt gave her permission to play Quidditch professionally, "Really?" She wouldn't wait for his response, launching herself up to latch onto him and kiss whatever part of his face she could, "Thank you!"
The second half of his sentence had her face burning a dark red. She could not even think of such things without wanting to hide her face, "N-Not until after the wedding—"
She felt the weight of the Slytherin's words settle over her, a mixture of sweet nothings and a promise that made her stomach twist. She did not for once moment naively believe that her friends would accept her renewed relationship with Mathias. Not to mention Percival, who she had asked to help her months prior. She would need to tell them not to interfere.
Before she could open her mouth to respond, his lips were on hers again, reclaiming what belonged to him. Her hands slid up, cupping his cheek as she deepened the kiss. It was unspoken promise, yet another string of fate that bound them tighter together. "Lead me, and I'll follow you." She mumbled when they had broken apart.
After bending down to retrieve her bag, the Irish girl stood there for a moment longer, silently watching her fiancé collect his belongings. Her hands brushed over her clothing, disheveled after their tense interaction. She quietly fixed the strap that had fallen down her shoulder and smoothed out her dress. "... Winter break is soon, Mattie. Maybe we should consider... Spending it together." She'd leave him with the suggestion before he left.
She stood hugging herself, missing the warmth he had offered mere moments before. He had left her there with the reality of what they had become, and eventually the horror would haunt her. Threaded together by a fate that was woven the moment they met, she had to wonder if she had ever belonged to herself. The more she struggled against her puppet strings, the more tangled she became. So, she would play Mathias' game and pluck at the strings to see if they would fray.
Still, as she stood there, trembling in the aftermath of his touch and now absence, an undeniable truth settled into the pit of her stomach; love. Not the tender hopeful kind of love the fairytales of her youth were riddled with, but something darker, all consuming, hungry, and inescapable.
Every time she tried to pull away, the intoxicating heat would pull her back in.
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |