Sowing Seeds of Enmity PV Persephone Finished

@Evelynn Decipio

Since the infamous ‘coming-out’ party that had taken place under Professor Bercegeay’s watch, Persephone had become accustomed to the menacing glares or looks of disappointment that everyone seemed to offer her so willingly. Peers that she was sure hadn’t even attended the event were wary around her, paranoid that she would turn against them at the flick of a switch, that they would wake next in the comfort of the Hospital Wing. Although this tension had died down, the hurt inside hadn’t followed suit. What occurred after Persy was escorted away by the Flying professor would haunt the Slytherin for what felt like weeks to come, but not only that was plaguing the passing days; those who moved with a sense of caution in her sight were being incredibly insulting, whether they intended to or not. This fearful manner they all possessed, it implied so ignorantly that Persephone would attack unprovoked, a lie as harmful as an accusation of feelings. The fights, the assaults, they all came with substantial reasoning, whether her peers would admit it or not, and it was all started by one Evelynn Decipio.

It hadn’t taken much digging to come across the name of her first victim; Jack Burnett had called out her last name as soon as the spillage leaked over her auburn hair, staining it with the dark, boiling drink. From there, it was an uncomplicated process of offering up more attention on the girl’s behalf, her name was bound to come up in a conversation whether in disdain or delight. This wasn’t a particular chore; Persephone had hardly planned on letting Evelynn vanish from her sights, to let the Gryffindor get away so freely would’ve been a crime against humanity. And Persy was no sorry criminal.

As a result, Evelynn had a consistent place in the depths of the blonde’s mind, in the darkest  parts where the plans and desires resided. The girl was no threat, of this Persephone had become acutely aware in the time that had lapsed so lethargic. The true threat lied in another Slytherin that Persy would continue to deny without fault, a sense of loyalty in her heart that could be triumphed by none. Denial was a peaceful ignorance, a sensation that the blonde had not been able to bask in for years. So instead of focusing on the menace that loomed, her sights remained set on the auburn-haired Gryffindor.

In Evelynn’s case, the paranoia that rode upon her back came to Persy as a glorious delight; another reminder of what she had done and how it had affected the ‘sweet’, ‘innocent’ girl. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, the Slytherin held back a chuckle at the constant replay of the last few weeks. During classes the two girl’s shared, Evelynn always seemed to go the safest route available, as if under the impression that this would somehow protect her from the wrath of an angsty eleven year old. Occasionally, Persephone felt the need to reiterate that if it was a whim to ambush the girl again, nothing would make her think twice about it, professor near or professor far. Persy had believed that this had become clear at the Valentine’s Tea, when she attacked the girl without mercy, knowing Professor Bercegeay perched nearby. How she’d smiled when the woman finally did her job. Oh yes, she knew, it was crystal clear.

When the time came to leave the classroom after a droning lesson of monotone voice, Persephone took her time packing her things and leaving, mind encased in her own enthralling thoughts. Almost going back to ask if there was homework, as the girl had hardly paid attention, Persy shrugged lightly and moved swiftly along the hall toward the Slytherin Common Room, her undeniable comfort zone outside of the Grounds. The blonde hoped it would be abandoned at this time, or at least near, being such a busy day. It wouldn’t really matter though, and this became abundantly obvious when she was halted by the very thing she loathed.

Upon hearing her victim’s voice, Persephone continued forward, only hesitating for a fraction of a second. But that was too much; she’d already shown the weakness of attention to the Gryffindor and hopefully this interaction would be quick. The blonde stopped on her heel, and turned to face her newfound nemesis.

“Hi, Evelynn. I did think what happened was clear, but perhaps I need to explain? Or do the burn marks you’ve hidden so well come as enough of a reminder?”

@Persephone Barret

The first thing that struck Evelynn was the informality of the Slytherin's reply. Of course, this wasn't an entirely uncommon phenomenon around the school; many students, she had found, defaulted to making use of first names instead of surnames. Even when they did it, Evelynn found it irksome. To hear her own name spoken so casually from this girl, however, as though the two were right mates, straight up raised her hackles.

The second thing that implanted itself firmly as an oddity was the tone of condescension in the comment that followed the greeting. Clear? What happened at the party? If this girl thought it was clear to anyone at all other than herself, she was delusional. Nobody with whom Evelynn had spoken seemed to understand what had spurred the — what the little lion was now believing to be quite unstable — girl to action. Well, except Burnett, who seemed under the impression that she was attention-seeking, and willing to take bad, good or otherwise, as long as she was noticed and acknowledged.

The third, and final, conclusion that Evelynn drew from the few words that slithered from the vile snake's lips was that she was not sorry. At all.

"Obviously you think you had some sort of good reason to do what you did," the redhead commented flatly. Any hope that the two might have simply gotten off on the wrong foot was pushed violently off a cliff to fall to some dark recess of her mind where abandoned thoughts broke upon the ground to be forgotten. "Go on, then," she continued, feeling a simmering heat alight within her as she subconsciously lifted a hand to touch at the burns that had long-since healed. "Explain yourself. Why did you do it?"

Admittedly, Evelynn wasn't particularly keen on giving in to the taunt to be provided the rationale. It seemed as though that's what the girl was wanting. Maybe this really was some sort of power trip. Perhaps this was the equivalent of when the bad guy in the movie got their chance to monologue their grand plot and dangle it in front of the hero that they had been outsmarted the entire time. But the hero (almost) always won in the end. And Evelynn did feel as though she deserved some sort of explanation, for the only thing that was clear to her was that this girl was crazy.

As that conclusion began to solidify within her mind — even prior to Barret's opportunity to justify herself — Evelynn became acutely aware that she may have made a huge mistake. Obviously, thinking that there was any chance to "start fresh" had been an error in judgment. But that could be forgiven. As the seconds ticked by, however, the first year Gryffindor became acutely aware that choosing to provide the pair some measure of privacy away from prying eyes and ears might not have been such an intelligent move. As gray eyes panned the blonde's features so as to catch hint of any ill intention, she filtered through the back of her mind the various spells that she had mastered. Just in case.

@Evelynn Decipio

It wasn’t unexpected, the subtle demeanor change of her Gryffindor friend. Speaking with your abuser in a tone laced with kindness was unexpected, this reborn attitude that replaced the ignorant kindness with understandable spite. Perhaps Persephone wouldn’t have passed yet another judgement so quickly if Evelynn’s habits weren’t so foreign when compared to her own. Never would Persephone face the person who destroyed her with a sense of hope for a resolution; that was a foolish mindset. People never changed, though people like this young Gryffindor were the type to argue against that fact. ‘People aren’t born evil!’ they would cry. ‘Bad people can be redeemed!’ the protesters would insist. It was all lies, and the activists who stood by these claims only did so because they’d already been brainwashed, contaminated with the ideas that the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ people wanted so desperately to believe. Evelynn, here, was hardly more than a sheep.

Grouping people into those two categories, good and bad, was terribly non inclusive. Persephone knew she was neither. Inherently good people, of which she knew none, never partook in the actions the blonde did. No matter her intentions, her methods were considered unethical, malevolent even. This banishment from the good end of the spectrum didn’t confine her to its opposite; Persy was not a bad person either, contrary to the thoughts of the majority. Bad people carried bad intentions, a toxic mindset that the young Slytherin would never contaminate herself with. It was an odd space in the middle, for the only people that brought about difference. Good reason, bad methods.

Grey. Morally grey.

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to be a little more knowledgeable about what you speak. You speak like I didn’t have a substantial reason to do what I did, like that reasoning only exists in my head.” Scorching in her eyes was untouched animosity. The victim's vexed tone was much more familiar to her than the red-heads' attempt at resolve had been, but that didn’t make the offense any less punishable. To the Gryffindor’s credit, this approach would result in less injury on her part. Well, if she played her cards right. Sometimes, though, you get dealt a bad hand.

“And you think I owe you an explanation? Jeez, Evelynn, how narcissistic of you. Don’t you realize you very obviously bothered me, so I did something about it? Not a complicated process, but maybe I should dumb it down.” It wasn’t often that the blonde got to truly speak what she thought, and, devastatingly, now was a horrible time to expose herself. Not in front of the Gryffindor, at least. Instincts deep within her offered the reminder that no one was to be trusted. Facades, everyone had facades.

Not only would explaining herself imply a certain trust between the abuser and her victim, but it would say things Persephone wasn’t ready to speak aloud.  Saying things to the world, where anyone can hear, made them real.

Condescension was one of the many voices Persephone had mastered over the years, coming naturally to her as if she was born to be superior. No longer, though, was it about the superiority complex she possessed, but it pertained to issuing justice no one else would. Not being who she was expected to be. Being somebody.

Obviously, even Persephone was reading too deeply into her intentions. The bare truth, uncovered by spiced lies, was that in that moment, something overtook her, something foreign, beyond even her above par understanding of the human emotions. Hatred, she guessed.

“Karma, love. I’m just doing what the world doesn’t have the time to.”

Interacting with @Persephone Barret

If Evelynn hadn't previously been confused, she certainly was now. The venom with which the Slytherin girl glared at Evelynn was so caustic that even the redhead had to second-guess herself. Surely nobody could hold such a pronounced hatred in their gaze without some sort of good reason. For all her attempts to find reason, however, Evelynn came up blank. There was nothing, as far as she could recall, that she had done to deserve such ire. Not to mention, the words spoken by Burnett just kept playing themselves on repeat. Attention. She seeks attention. But this didn't seem like just attention. And the way that she countered, the way she dismissed the little lion's surmission that there was no reasonable stimuli for her reaction, suggested she truly did believe herself justified.

Evelynn was almost looking forward to the explanation. Despite the simmering heat within the pit of her stomach, coals stoked with victimized contempt, she wished to hear an explanation. Or perhaps it was because she had been the target that she desired answers. Some manner in which to find closure for something she felt entirely uncalled for. She knew she shouldn't dare hope for it, however. Even though the snake had questioned a need for one, the red head knew better than to think she would actually deliver. It had been a deception. A ploy. She knew that. The offer had never actually been presented. But she did hope. Against her conscious understanding, she had felt that yearning; and felt the twist of the knife all the more when that was pointed out.

"Karma, is it?" Evelynn hissed, lip twitching in a barely contained sneer. She couldn't help but feel slighted by the girl's comments. Aggrieved, even. Not only for the original assault, but also now for the narcissistic mockery and feeling the need to dumb it down. Why was it, she had to wonder, that she always seemed to attract those who seemed completely full of themselves in one way or another. She was like a fish caught on a hook. It didn't matter that she knew it or not, she couldn't free herself of the barb. "Sounds like a pretty convenient excuse for what's probably some sort of twisted enjoyment.

"And, I have to say… you must be pretty easily bothered if I managed to do it without even trying," Evelynn continued with a drawl, leaning back casually against the stonework of the corridor and slipping her hands into her pockets. "So what about the others, then? I hear it wasn't just me? What about Seilun's friend, Barret? Did he also deserve his face being slammed into a table?"

Oh yes, she'd heard about that. And the rest of what could only be described as a psychotically aggressive break. As much as Evelynn knew she should hold kindness, should recognize when someone was likely hurt and lashing out in the only way they knew how. She suspected that it was something similar to what Burnett had suggested. In this moment, however, after having experienced the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon her for no good reason as far as she could tell, she really didn't care.

"Or did you just think it was just all in good fun? Do you like making other people miserable? To see them hurt? Did your parents never teach you any manners? Or did they just hate you so much that you don't even know what it means to be nice?"

@Evelynn Decipio

Wasn’t it somewhat funny, in a sick, twisted way? The amusement rising in deep waves, formed from the tide of Evelynn’s complaints and input? The lioness spoke with such certainty, her hiss a steady melody in a silent existence, so cogent that even Persephone was unsure what lie underneath the blanket of exteriors serving as a protectant, her bones ice under the pressure of Persy’s open, cold soul. This rare confusion wouldn’t be everlasting, a good sailor used the tide to their advantage, never fought against the world and its natural order. Let the girl feel, complain, rationalize that which defied physics, truly no harm was being done to Persy, no breakthroughs were being made to slide her from her foundation. The Gryffindor’s words were nothing unfamiliar, nothing that the blonde hadn’t learned to expect from those inferior. It was human, she supposed. Something Persephone was occasionally sure she was not.

“Funny you use the word twisted, I was thinking the same thing. May I respond with a question? Do you call everyone’s interests that differ so much from your own ‘twisted’? Narcissism is a disease, Evelynn.”

Using her victim’s first name, a personal and intimate element to their confrontation, was nothing more than a lure, baiting the fish to the hook where their mouth would be impaled. Although that experiment wasn’t concluded in Evelynn’s case, her repeated habit of referring to peers by surnames sent signals that their sender was likely unperceptive of, judging by that ridiculous superiority complex. It was, unfortunately, plausible that all Persephone was accomplishing was setting a substructure of trust in their relationship, far from her true intentions. That blow was handed to the god of fate, she supposed, a dangerous habit that should be discarded whenever possible, an act of self-preservation. Evelynn hadn’t exhibited an audible or body-language related reaction to that informality. What an inconvenience, this foolish lioness was, without even realizing it. Though, that was nothing new. This moron had taunted her with ignorance since the Tea Party.

“Easily bothered? I tend to disagree, but after today, I’m quite sure you just enjoy meddling where you don’t belong.” The Gryffindor’s relaxed posture was yet another taunt, dare she disregard the substance of this? Let your feelings out so I can crush everything you believe in, please? She begged where no one could see. It was all a warning, a [not so] empty threat, of course; Persephone was too immensely distracted with other student’s she needed to demolish, it was Evelynn’s persistence that led them to this point. Petty. “God, do you never learn? Don’t you realize there are things you don’t know? To be straight-forward, because you left your wit back home, yes, I had a reason.” Her body yearned to grin, leer, reiterate that this girl was God’s first attempt at the early imbeciles that left their impact on cave walls. Persephone obliged.

“Did…”

“...they…”

“...just hate you…”

In a matter of seconds, the venomous snake’s forearm rested upon her prey’s throat with cosmic pressure that wouldn’t cut off the cursed circulation of breath, but would hopefully result in the only punishment anyone seemed to understand: pain. Why was it so difficult for people to obtain common courtesy, to know where the boundaries of villainous ways were drawn? Insults were insults, but to incorporate...that into it?

Hypocrisy.

Persephone couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, only hear her own dripping, honest words escape the prison of her mind, condemned to secrecy. No longer. Not for Decipio.

“One of these days…” Labored breathing, clenched teeth, “you’re going to say something like that again, those loose lips of yours dying to be ripped away. And when you do, I will not pour tea on you, scorch your skin, it will be worse. I’m going to give you a chance here.”

The blonde was hardly intimidating, at least in her own vision. That reflection, chubby cheeks and petite height, didn’t appear capable of violence. If it hadn't been pushed away already, her forearm returned to her side, but her demeanor didn’t relax. Perhaps, it never would.

“Take it back.”

Exposed. Great! Life at its fullest. Screw it, why do I care if they didn't?

A grin made itself known, not laced with maliciousness or ill-intent. In fact, it was one of the most genuine smiles ever offered by the Slytherin first-year, after years of sorrowful frowns and iniquitous smirks. Maybe, that made it all the worse. 

Interacting with @Persephone Barret

Interest in the conversation was beginning to fade. For as much venom as the blonde seemed to have, for as many insults as she seemed capable of spewing forth, their impacts became less pronounced. Narcissitic? Her? Having never been particularly keen for attention or spotlight, nor having any difficulty empathizing, she was far from narcissistic. Even if she had danced close upon that line, the foundation of the jab was weak, the effort laughable.

"I suppose you would be the one to know about it," she replied caustically.

Perhaps Burnett was onto something at the party when he verbalized his suspicions. She did seem to crave attention. And how many times had Barret sought to demean Evelynn's intelligence and place herself on a pedestal above? If anyone here was narcissistic, it was surely the Slytherin. And here she was again, insisting that she had a reason, but offering no actual explanation. Not that any explanation could be reasonable, Evelynn was sure.

Her thought and calm veneer became marred as the blonde continued, however. With the accusation of enjoying meddling where she didn't belong, Evelynn's eyes narrowed, stormy grays staring coldly forward at the other girl. It was hardly a significant insult. Something that most probably wouldn't even have batted their eyes at. But for the red head, it seemed to be becoming a common issue. Gray. Burnett. Caster. D'Spacito. Barret. They all seemed to think Evelynn a meddler. They all seemed to take issue with her attempting to stand up for those that couldn't, or wouldn't stand up for themselves. The little lion could hardly see how that would make her a meddler. She didn't go poking around. She didn't bother others unless they'd done something to provoke it. She minded her own. Kept to herself. In fact, with the exception of striving for exceptional academic success and involvement in extra-curricular activities to round out her educational resume, she had done everything she could to keep a low profile. And this was what she got to thank for it.

She was ready for it when it came. Or she thought she had been. When Evelynn had rested against the wall, she hadn't dipped her hands into her pockets to be casual. She had done so to reach for her wand. Even as the blonde had been speaking, fingers had delicately encircled the handle of the fine instrument, their owner taking comfort and maintaining some level of confidence in the knowledge of her own abilities. She doubted Barret was a poor witch, but she had no doubt that she would be the better. What she had not accounted for was just how sudden and extreme the shift in Barret's affect would be. It was something that had been considered a possibility, sure, but Evelynn had anticipated a slower build-up, not a snap.

As Barret lunged forth, arm raised to check the red head, she felt herself tense. Hesitate. To freeze. She always froze. Every time. It was all well and good to plan it out ahead, to anticipate what would come and how to act appropriately, or even to reflect upon it afterwards and think up a million things she could and would do different next time. But she never seemed to be able to put it into action. When it came to standing up for herself, Evelynn failed. Every time.

Her head cracked painfully against the cold stone wall of the corridor with the shove, sending a jarring jolt sound her spine. For a moment, her vision blanked as her mind caught up to the movement, temporarily swimming as it reoriented itself. Too suddenly she became aware of the arm pressed too firmly against her neck. Her eyes widened. Wand forgotten as flight instincts kicked in, her hands shot up from their earlier holding in an attempt to slide around and push Barret off of her. The difference in strength was all too apparent. Had Barret wished, she could have kept Evelynn pinned there with relative ease. The red head was slippery, but not when her body failed to respond, when her own mind worked against her.

"Get… off… me…" Evelynn sputtered through the grace of Barret's lessened hold.

Her heart was racing, pounding in her heart so strongly she could hear it echoing in her skull, throbbing painfully where it had connected with the solid brick. The longer she was held there, the greater the panic to flee rose until she was on the tipping point, just about to claw at the girl's face to let her go. It was over almost as soon as it began. As Barret retreated, another small victory in her pocket, Evelynn attempted — and failed — to prevent a brief fit of coughing with air returned to her. And it was then that the words set in, followed quickly by… confusion. Still rubbing at her neck, and having taken a furtive half-step back while straightening, Evelynn cast Barret a wary side-glance, brows still furrowed.

"Take it back?" she echoed, not quite understanding.

Before the words had even finished leaving her lips, however, it dawned on her. The full weight of the implication. As sudden as had come Barret's attack, Evelynn's expression faded, mouth slackening slightly with disbelief. It…couldn't be. She hadn't meant the jab seriously. Not really. This girl, so confident and self-assured, had come across to Evelynn like little more than a pampered and spoiled girl. Likely pureblood, and likely from a well-to-do family. She had taken the mannerisms as something similar to Gray. A callous disregard for others do to an inflated sense of self-importance and the opinion that everyone else was lesser. Not the other way around.

"You're… not serious…" she heard herself say, gazing at Barret with bewilderment. "They didn't… did they?" Then a pause as her mind continued to digest this novel realization. How everything seemed to make sense now. The call for attention. Acting out in the only way she likely knew how. Or perhaps it was just an excuse. A way to express the contempt and hurt and suffering she had endured in a loveless family. "No wonder…" Evelynn breathed.

And all of a sudden, she didn't fear the girl that stood before her. She pitied her.

@Evelynn Decipio

The ocean that filled Persephone’s lungs the entire duration of her life shifted, pulling her dangling arm down with the broken heart that lay beneath. The Slytherin didn’t breathe, forest eyes never breaking away from Evelynn’s, the shade they took on and the color they manifested into, like a taunt of sympathy from someone sickeningly unworthy. Before, background chatter had buzzed behind the two, cutting the tension with a blade of merciless steel, but if those nameless faces remained, Persy had become deaf to their assistance. The corridor was silent, like a life had been taken, quiet like that final breath of relief when the victim realized the agony would soon cease. Like the blink of an eye. But Evelynn was no longer the victim, the one to be laughed at and tormented, that title was now reserved for Persephone.

It was reversible, the damage done today, and if it wasn’t, then it would be forced to reconsider. The blonde was pushed back, morphed into another time like a child jamming the square into the triangle-cut slot. Underneath the alarm that sounded, drowning away all logic and method, she wondered if the red-headed girl saw from Persy’s eyes. Perhaps the world had tinted in the moment, traveled back with her and brought about nostalgia accompanied by no relief or reminiscence, but instead undoctored fear. It was possible ‘fear’ was the wrong word; discomfort, maybe? All of her insides had moved slightly to the right, her physical body remaining sewn to the floor by a steady hand. Everything inside was out of place, as it was in the distasteful reality. Evelynn should’ve been the one ensnared in this.

Persephone breathed at last. The damned girl had spoken against all common sense, as if it left with the air in her throat.

“Of course they didn’t, Decipio. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to hit below the belt?” Like the beat of a ripped heart, the facade had returned with a vengeance that could not be executed today. The Slytherin’s voice was stronger than she ever believed it could be in a moment such as this, fueled by the adrenaline that gave her life where oxygen failed.

To exist was one thing, to live was another.

Although a response wasn’t verbalized, Persy’s mind innocently backtracked to a remark that had flown by before, an accusation of narcissism from the queen of meddling. Over an extended course of time, the girl had learned how individual insults were, an art to be ameliorated; what brought anguish to one would only bring laughter to another. It was a puzzle unexplorable by the naked eye, only used to an advantage by those who could analyze the patterns. Judging by the flare that never burned away in the lion’s eyes, both had misread those patterns, dragged down an incorrect route that only brought them to misdirected opinions. Being referred to as a narcissist was hardly offensive to Persephone, rather implying the criminal indulged in the safety of self preservation. This wasn’t the case for everyone, but selfishness had never consumed the snake like it did others. However, Evelynn couldn’t be reasonably expected to contain enough intellect to realize such a thing; she was, first and foremost, a pitiful lion.

“You bore me, Decipio. How about I catch you another time, once you’ve learned a bit more about your nemesis? Not all old sayings are propaganda, you know: know the enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles you will never be in peril...” The blonde quoted with a teasing wink. Dragging the power back into her hands. Control would not falter again, that opportunity would not be offered to someone so pathetic in the soul. Instead of engaging further as to endanger this, Persephone turned swiftly and marched down the hallway, a wounded soldier.

I’ll be back.

Persephone leaves the thread.