An Evening Errand PV Mattathias Closed

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Mattathias checked the owlery every day. Every, single day. It was in the hopes of receiving a letter from his father and his stepsister and maybe, he thought, just maybe, his mother. He wanted to hear from her. He wanted to hear her voice again and feel her hand in his. He wouldn't--even now, at eleven years old, he understood that--but it didn't mean he didn't yearn for it.

He liked it there, anyways. Owls weren't particularly magical creatures but he enjoyed them nonetheless. The owlery was a place where people didn't go unless they were seeking correspondence, so most of the time that he was there, it was only him and the birds and no one else. Even when others entered, they were gone quickly. He'd actually started doing some homework in there. He'd just bring a blanket and set it down so he didn't sit in anything unpleasant before withdrawing his work. Other times, like this one, he was simply sketching. There weren't any letters for him, so he drew instead.

Matt was almost invisible in the dim light of the owlery. He was far against the corner, watching Evelynn as she went about dealing with the barn owl. She seemed rather twitchy. The only sound that could possibly betray his presence was that of his soft breath and the scritch-scritch-scritch of his pencil on paper.

@Mattathias Jermaine

Perhaps it was because of her suppressed fear; perhaps it was because of the darkness with which she had entered the owlery and the haste with which she attempted to complete her task; perhaps it was simply a slip-up in her awareness. Regardless of the reason, the boy in the corner had escaped her notice. Not so on her retreat. The sound of the skull crushed beneath her foot and the echo of hoots and rustling of talons on perches had left her on high alert. As soon as she had lit her wand, she had swept it over every inch of that room, not at all willing to give any sort of advantage to anything -- or anyone -- who may wish to do her harm.

"AH!"

Several owls hooted indignantly as the strained croak of surprise echoed upwards to interrupt their rest. Evelynn stumbled back as the light fell on the only other individual in the room. For a second, she saw a crouched figure in preparation to spring. But only for a second. Eventually, her brains caught up to the racing of her heart, and worked to calm the tempo of her coursing veins with the rationalization that he was not, in fact, crouched; he was sitting. And sketching, by the looks of it.

"Who.." She swallowed to calm her nerves further and regain her composure. "Who are you?"

There was a certain amount of cautious defiance in her voice as she squared her feet towards the boy. He had dark black hair. Pale skin. And by the light of her wand, his eyes reflected a reddish hue through the spectacles he wore. Her brows pinched, her wand arm steadied itself, still pointed in his direction. Despite her fearless silhouette, however, her heart began to pound again. By everything she had been reading, so far his appearance fit the bill. At least she had caught him before he had acted.

She could feel the colour draining from her face as the implication of what she had just allowed to happen sank in. How could she have been so careless? She already knew the risks. It had been weeks, sure, but the image of Aurelia ─ bloodied and unconscious upon the hospital bed ─ continued to haunt Evelynn's dreams. In fact, she had been repeatedly delaying her trip to the owlery for that very reason; to avoid the same fate as her senior.

Was this the one? This boy who sat so quietly in the corner, apparently minding his own business? A small voice spoke up in the back of her mind. She was being ridiculous. She was just jumpy. It was a touch presumptuous to jump to the worst conclusion, wasn't it? He would have to be daft to maintain his haunt as a hunting ground. But who sat in the owlery in the winter? She swallowed again, shoulders shaking briefly as a shiver racked up the length of her spine. Even the thought of sitting out here for any length of time in this temperature caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Maybe he wasn't daft, then. Perhaps he was just mad.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed since she had called out to him. Or if any time ahd passed at all. It was if time stood still and the very haze of her breath hung frozen in her lungs. Scared to stay. Scared to run. All Evelynn could do was clutch her wand and hope for the best, knuckles growing whiter with every passing second. With hope, this would end as an exercise of vigilance, and she could laugh it off with the dawning of the morrow.

On the off chance that he was a dhampir, however, the rays of the wand-lighting charm would illuminate that truth soon enough.

Mattathias had never liked bright light. It hurt his eyes more than anything else, and sometimes he could swear he could feel it on his skin, too, although he knew that had to be a trick of the mind. Albinism was what everyone had attributed it to: a severe lack of melanin, although he had dark hair, so they'd concluded that it wasn't full albinism like some people. It made sense for the red eyes and the pale skin and the light sensitivity and how he got a sunburn in less than an hour of being outside.

The boy flinched back, pulling himself back into the shadows out of reflex. There was a crack as he stumbled over owl pellets, bones crunching under his shoes, and he promptly fell squarely on his behind when he rammed into the wall. He let out a shocked and somewhat terrified yelp as he landed, the sound of which drowned out that of his glasses clattering onto the ground. He scrambled to recover them, half-blinded by the light and vision blurry because he was born with terrible eyes, and his fingers barely closed around them as he stuttered out a panicked reply.

"M-m-matt," he stammered. "M-m-mattath-thias Jer-jermaine, f-f-first year Ravenc-claw!"

Well that was...not quite what she was expecting. The bright flare of her wand was enough to illuminate the boy and bring all his features into clear focus for her. She had expected the surprise, sure, but not the fearful retreat, the Yelp of shock and the stammering reply. A dhampir would have stood it's ground, wouldn't it? Or hissed and shrieked in pain and spun to flee? Or perhaps lunged in a fight over flight reflex? And if he had been human, wouldn't he had just...stayed there? Dazed, sure, but surely he'd have just raised a hand to shield his eyes? That's what she would have done...And then there was the stutter. As though it was she — and not he — who was the one to be feared. Maybe she'd been wrong afterall.

There was a definite lapse in her conviction. Brows furrowing in puzzlement, she felt her arm slacken and the tip of her wand shifted just enough to pull the full force if the light off and away from the boy's face and onto the wall beside him. She stared at him, chin inclining, scrutinizing his expression and supine form as though he were some wired trap to be riddled out. With every breath, the dropping temperature of the eve caused condensation to gather on her lips and cheeks. A chill began to coil about her frame, stoking a shiver that perpetually seemed to threaten to climb her spine, but never quite fulfilled that threat. She licked her lips, growing increasingly aware of the silence, a pregnant pressure that pressed deafeningly against her ears.

"Evelynn," she eventually replied, her voice as stiff as her stature. "First year Gryffindor."

A small part of her mind recoiled at the idea of giving her name, just in case he was as her instincts suspected. But there was no harm in it, she rationalized. As far as she knew, there was nothing he could do with a name, and friendliness — feigned or otherwise — might allow her to gain an advantage.

She took a small step, straw rustling against shoe and stone as she dragged the sole forward. Something seemed...off. And she still couldn't be certain one way or another about whether or not he was dangerous until she managed to get a proper look. Unfortunately, in order to do that, she'd have to get closer. Which, in turn, meant putting herself more at risk. Of course, it was entirely possible she was being completely ridiculous and appearing a total fool.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in a tone clipped with stress derived from mixed fear and skepticism.

She turned the wand, casting the light off to the side, and he was finally able to get an actual look at her. She...didn't actually look like much. Certainly not like the kind of person who'd punch him or something. She had long, auburn hair, and eyes that were a stormy shade of blue-grey, all clouded by a stern countenance and almost curt tone.Matt pushed his glasses back up his nose, gazing up at her with a look of some wariness, although the initial surprise was wearing off a little.

Evelynn. Gryffindor. So, she came in this year, too. Was she muggle-born like him, he wondered, or did she come from a magic family?

He leaned forward picking his sketchbook and pencil up off the ground before he stood up. He put the pencil behind his ear, then dusted off the worn cover of his book. The sketch was faintly visible in the dim light. It was nothing particularly surprising--they were just owl studies of various species in the owlery from different angles--but they were shockingly well done, given his age.

"I, uh...I was d-drawing. U-u-usually it's pretty quiet up here." He let out an awkward little chuckle, shoving his sketchbook into his satchel. "S-s-sorry if I-I surprised you." There was something decidedly...off, about the way she interacted with him. Something disingenuous, almost, or maybe it was just caution and he was reading too much into it. Either way, he studied her with an uncertainty similar to what he saw in her eyes.

Reflexively, at the forward movement of this Ravenclaw boy, Evelynn flicked her wand point back towards him. This time, at least, the spotlight fell upon the floor before him rather than directly on his face, sparing him any light blindness. She recognized the tools of his trade almost immediately, and from what she had briefly seen before the sketchbook had been tucked away, there was merit to his following claim that he had been drawing.

A quiet corner of the castle. A variety of live avian subjects to serve as muses of study. A sooth ambience of quiet shuffling of feet and rustling of feathers -- when they weren't being disturbed at least. As more time passed, Evelynn couldn't help but feel increasingly absurd about having jumped to conclusions.

"It's fine…" She replied after a moment, sheepishly lowering her wand to hang limply at her side. The reflection from the stone and straw within the halo of torchlight at her feet cast her figure into distorted illumination. Her right hand -- the free hand -- lifted to rub awkwardly at the back of her neck in an attempt to soothe the little hairs that simply refused to resign from their state of high alert. "Sorry for startling you as well…"

"Is watching others from the shadows a habit of yours?" she asked sardonically.

Her gaze lifted to meet his as she spoke, drifting occasionally to the features of his face, or his hands and stance. Her scrutiny had taken a different form now. It was less suspicious, and more curious. No longer defensively assessing, but rather proactively studying. There was much that could be learned about an individual, her mother always said, just by watching them. That a lot of secrets could be shared without even realizing it. Evelynn had taken that to heart, and honed her keen eye over many years. Now, like every other time she met someone for the first time, she studied Mattathias: his facial features, how he dressed, the way he had groomed himself, how his distributed his weight, which hand he seemed to favour, his movements, mannerisms, quirks…anything that could give her a clue to his character beyond simply the superficial.

"You really shouldn't be up here, though…" She said after a pause. "It's not safe. Someone was attacked by…something…a month or two back. And taken to hospital. I still don't think the person…or creature…has been caught yet…"

She wanted to see his reaction.

It was probably meant as a joke when she asked that, but it just came out...creepy. He had a lot of people ask it of him, though. He was surprisingly talented at just melting away and into the woodwork. He wasn't much to see and people didn't care to notice him, so he was usually quite invisible to most people. It was better to be invisible than bullied, though. He'd rather stay invisible until after school when he could go read a book or play D&D with the friends he did have.

She didn't seem like the kind of person to be invisible, though. She seemed like the kind of person who walked into a room and everyone looked at because she commanded it. Or maybe she was just that way right now because she was defensive. He wore pretty standard attire, a simple black t-shirt with World of Warcraft's crimson Horde symbol emblazoned on the front, somewhat worn but taken care of jeans, and dark sneakers that had come untied at some point. He clutched his sketchbook tightly to his chest, weight shifting a bit between his feet, and he seemed more nervous than threatening. Not afraid, per se--he didn't really see Evelynn punching him or something--but he didn't like confrontation and this felt too much like that and it made him uncomfortable.

"One w-would think, wouldn't you?" he said, cracking a slight smile and glancing up at her, open lips revealing the almost imperceptible gaps between his teeth where his canines should've been. "I, uh...I'll...probably try to find somewhere else to hang out. Thanks."

Everything seemed to be able to attack everything around here. Everything seemed to say 'danger' or 'keep out' and he'd even had an owl or too foot him because he was bothering them when they didn't want to be bothered. Was anywhere else really that much safer except for the commons? He didn't want to go to the commons. Not where it was filled with people who talked a lot and he wasn't even able to use headphones to block it out. It was hard to study with people bothering him and kicking his anxiety into overdrive all the time, and then they looked at him weird because he stuttered. They looked at him weird anyways--everyone always had--but instead of bullying him, most just outright avoided him, interacting as little as possible, as though they were scared of him.

He'd never had anyone be scared of him before, except for when he'd bit that one kid, but that time the other guy had hit first, so. It was warranted.

His supposition had been incorrect. Whether he truly believed she had been joking about her statement or whether he was merely subconsciously hoping that she was, he would be wrong. She hadn't been. He himself had said it was usually pretty quiet up here. To say such a thing would have meant he'd have had to have spent enough time up in the owlery to identify a pattern. Tonight, Mattathias had been almost invisible in the dim light, and she was certain now that her sensation of being watched was spot on. Human or otherwise, intentional or not, he'd been lurking.

His light-hearted answer did little to ease the tension she was working to release. Yes…she did think that he had been; and she couldn't help but wonder who else had been victim to his spying. How many others had he watched as they came and went from the owl's roost? How many others had he sized up and studied, making note of their habits and typical appearances to send letters? What would make a better target…someone he knew came regularly and could anticipate a pattern for their arrival and plan appropriately? Or someone who rarely sent a letter and thus would have few who might suspect foul play if any significant amount of time had lapsed between receiving written updates?

And then he smiled.

"That's probably a good idea," she had been saying, acknowledging his decision to find another haunt with a slight nod of her head. "The potions classroom is…usually……quiet…."

If she hadn't been scrutinizing his face and looking for just such a feature, she might have missed it. As it was, she had been idly noting the T-shirt he was wearing -- recognizing the symbol emblazoned upon it to be very same one painted on a flag that hung in the media room back home -- and almost didn't notice the atypical spacing of his teeth in the dim light. But she did. Once again, stormy grey eyes set themselves upon his features, and her previous sentiment trailed off long ago to a whole new slew of silent thought.

"What…what happened to your teeth?" Evelynn wondered aloud, internal alarms beginning to sound once again. This time, she kept her tone light and curious. Yet again, however, this was another sign that supported an inhuman existence.

The feel of polished wood between her fingers gave her comfort, but the fact that she had only closed half the distance to the exit did not. It occurred to her, then, that perhaps she shouldn't have asked. Not only was it rude to make such a tactless observation -- she could already hear the reprimanding she'd have gotten had her mother overheard her -- it highlighted a very specific identifying characteristic of something that many people reviled. Herself included. And if there was one thing about which she was certain, it was that she didn't want to mess with the relative peace of the present moment by provoking him. Thus, quickly after asking the question, she set to correct herself.

"Sorry…That…" She said, licking her lips, eyes flicking briefly in the direction of the doorway. God, she felt awkward. And for the first time since she'd caught sight of him, she could feel the pallor of her skin regaining its colour as a flush of rose crept up her neck. "I didn't mean to ask it like that…" she finished, lamely, returning her storm gray eyes back to seek the Ravenclaw boy's gaze.

And now she felt stuck. On the one hand…she still didn't trust him. In that respect, she wanted to be as far away from here as possible, to make a run for the door and hasten back to the safety of her own common room and dorm. On the other hand…she still didn't trust him. And in that respect, she felt the need to get to know as much about him as possible. To find some way to confirm whether or not he was human. To learn his habits, his strengths, his weaknesses.

"So you're from a muggle family?" This time there was a significant lack of reservation in her assumption. A conversational tone. Admittedly, she had met a lot of muggle-born students at the school. Far more than she had expected. It had been strange, really, but not at all unpleasant. Most of them, however, hadn't been major nerds. If Mattathias was wearing a Horde T-shirt, she couldn't help but wonder just how much of a geek he was. At least he'd picked the right side.

Right now, she didn't have friends to keep close. She'd settle for keeping this potential enemy closer.

The thought of just accepting the potential risk did, admittedly, flash across Matt's mind. He liked the owlery. The bones and the birds were good inspiration for his art, and he wanted to study them so that he could draw his monsters better. He had every intention of running a short D&D campaign when he got home for break and after Monster Hunter World's recent success, he felt inspired to do something similar, with in-depth ecosystems and massive creatures. He mostly drew reptiles and wanted to branch out into avians a little more. Maybe he'd do some mammals, too, but they weren't so prehistoric, and he didn't know if he wanted that vibe yet.

Besides, in all the hours he'd spent up here, he barely even saw people, much less anything sinister. It seemed that every corner of this place had something lurking--warnings about not going down this hall or that doorway or, perhaps most enticingly, the Forbidden Forest. It also was pretty dark and didn't have much light, which he appreciated.

Either way, at least now he knew, and that was to his benefit. The boy's face fell a little when she asked about his teeth. He'd hoped that she wouldn't notice that. He always hoped that. It just made him weirder. "N-no," he said in response to her apology, shaking his head a little. "It's a reasonable q-query." Even if it was blunt, but blunt was better than mean.

"I, uh, d-d-do actually have t-t-teeth, they just, never c-came down. We're all just s-sort of hoping it'll sort itself out. No one wants to m-m-medically interfere unless they c-c-cause an actual problem, so...yeah." Thankfully, she gave him a way out, so he didn't have to dwell on that very long. More often than not, his explanations would devolve into vampire jokes (what nerd wouldn't take advantage of the particular set of coincidences afflicting Mattathias to bring up the undead?) but that just seemed awkward now that he knew that they actually existed. Somewhere.

So long as he never had to meet any.

"But y-yeah! M-muggle born, muggle raised," he affirmed. Had his shirt given him away? It was the only thing he could think of that would've made it obvious. Did that mean she knew what it was? Was she muggle-born, too? "Uh...is it the shirt...?" he ventured. Maybe there was a nerd of a feather in her, if she would ever warm up a bit.