There's always someone watching PV Closed

@Mildred Wilson, @Freya Thomas

Although this perception was probably exaggerated, it felt like dreary weeks since Persephone’s last run. Even in winter, when the chill of the air burned her reddening nose, few activities brought her as much enjoyment as the freshness of the Grounds did. Laps and laps around, dragging on occasionally through entire free periods, a better place for clearing her mind wasn’t obvious. Sure, the blonde would’ve absolutely preferred the adrenaline of swimming, but since that had gotten her into situations before, it was hardly worth it. Even when this wasn’t enough to prevent her from the freedom of the water, the lingering threat of hypothermia did the trick often enough.

Underneath her quick feet, the crunch of melting snow greeted her ears with glee, bringing a small smile to Persy’s lips. Most of the time when she was this captivated in her activities, few things tore away this rare sense of peace, a feeling almost unknown to her as of late considering the chaos of the recent times; nothing had been relaxing since Valentine’s Day. It didn’t assist this that the incentive of the toxic candies still whirled around the school, and wouldn’t die away until the end of the month of dread.

So today, Persephone was reasonably unfocused, the serotonin being barely enough to keep her focused on the sound of her steps, the pressure of gravity against her. There was no time to enjoy it, the racing of her thoughts would make sure of this, torturing her with every passing second. It was doubtless that Persy had to learn to limit these thoughts, the plague wouldn’t be the death of her. The Slytherin stopped on her heel, her pale hands resting on her hips in means to catch her fading breath. Emerald eyes scanned the Grounds, searching with an odd sense of desperation for something, anything that would serve as well-enough distraction.

It didn’t take a mere second for her to spot what made her laugh so suddenly, turning passing faces to observe her presenting so maniacal. A girl, surely in the same year, trudged along the very path Persephone did, bringing shame along with her, a cloud of grey. If her eyes did not deceive her (which they rarely did), yet another ginger-headed girl roamed. Worse, somehow, than the shade of her hair, was what was clutched so protectively in her arms. Was that… a stuffed animal?

Now that is embarrassing, even in a second hand perspective. And there was no chance Persephone would not seize the opportunity to vanish these feelings to someone else.

As the ginger placed the...llama?...beside her, protected from the harm of the sun under a well-shaded tree, Persy wasted no time approaching her. The look in her eyes, a flicker so scarce of sympathy, said everything before the words were sourly formulated.

“Okay, give me a break. There’s no way you’re carrying around a stuffed animal.” Even the most blissfully ignorant person couldn't have mistaken Persephone's tone for friendly; it was dehumanizing. Talking down. Old habits did indeed, die hard.

The well-shaded tree, upon which Mildred relaxed, was more beneficial than a place to rest tired feet. Moments before Mildred and Chicken (though Freya did not know their identities at the time) emerged out onto the grounds, a young Freya Thomas had determined that that well-shaded tree would prove to be an adequate hiding spot. 

She had entered the grounds, eyeing the melting snowman, whose face drooped as though the warming temperatures correlated strongly with a snow stroke. It had been a work of art, but a temporary one, likely not lasting more than a few weeks. This is why, Freya concluded as she walked past and found the tree, that Hogwarts needed more opportunities for permanent crafts, like plumbing.

It was a bit peculiar that a tree still was filled with such ability to conceal, given the season, but Freya did not know, nor care, enough about vegetation to ponder the question too long. It was no wonder that she did not care for Herbology. Trees needed water, but they did not transport water nearly as efficiently as pipes did; instead, they took away. They were horribly inefficient creations, in Freya's mind. She had not yet realized that, by these standards, she was just as inefficient as trees. The mind of an eleven-year-old was one that was peculiar and self-centered, not quite reaching logical conclusions.

As an only child, Freya had often had to entertain herself, and one of the easiest forms of entertainment for any young child remained in the outdoors. The girl's parents often found her perched high in the trees, silently observing the world around her. Today would be no different. She had been at Hogwarts long enough to know that there would be students milling about in no time, even if the grounds were quite barren when she originally emerged into the bright, warm embrace of sunshine.

She would not have to wait particularly long, as the ginger girl, carrying a pastel llama, moved toward her, as if magnetized by the pull of Freya's stare. Even though she was quite concealed, the Ravenclaw crouched downward, synchronously with her brow's movement. She shivered as she took these two actions, realizing that she had overestimated just how warm it was. Though she was wearing a worn, 'Pipeline Plumbing' sweatshirt over her familiar overalls, the weather called for considerably warmer attire. Nonetheless, she did not wish to reveal herself, so she just hoped that the sun would warm herself through the coniferous hiding spot.

As the girl walked forward, Freya heard her speak, referring to the worn creature as 'Chicken.' For a moment of surprise, Freya relaxed her brows as her eyes widened, wondering if she had heard correctly. Did wizards, perhaps, call llamas chickens, instead? If not, the girl was sorely mistaken and perhaps needed an education in Muggle animals. Freya was fortunate that she had had a proper education; based on all the strange things her classmates talked about, it seemed that Wizarding primary schools were quite...different. Mistaken, in Freya's mind.

It did not take long for another girl to emerge, this one blonde and seeming to be around the same age as the first. Freya hoped that she had also heard the name that the prior girl had coined her stuffed animal, but the blonde seemed to be concerned about a greater issue: the stuffed animal itself. Critically commenting on the ragged thing, the second girl unleashed her judgment, not holding back. Freya knit her brow again, her forehead's wrinkles accented in frustration at how unreasonable this child was being. Eleven wasn't too old enough to have a comfort object, in Freya's mind, and though hers tended to be more like wrenches and pipes, she wasn't going to judge ginger for a more juvenile attachment. 

She shivered as a gust of wind cut through the tree, and the branch she resided on creaked slightly. Though it was possible the girls would have noticed the noise, it was quiet enough to just be regarded as a typical effect of nature. Freya hoped, at least, that they wouldn't look up, for she wished to get a better sense of the situation below her before making her presence known.

Mildred sat peacefully under the tree with Chicken, she felt a sense of peace soon developing, it wrapped the young Hufflepuff girl in its warmth. She was soon brought back to the days of the past where she would often sit with Chicken in her own backyard at home- together they would both make snowmen, snow forts, and even snow angels. Of course, she was the one doing all the manual labor and Chicken would sit and watch.

Soon enough, her eyes started to droop- not the greatest place to sleep however she was feeling tired. The sound of snow being walked on soon awoken her, she looked up to see whoever was coming her way... she shrugged it off- perhaps they were going to walk past her or something. She was quickly proven wrong she realized that the girl was actually headed towards her and it seemed that the unknown girl was not too pleased with Mildreds choice of friends.

Mildred looked up at the Slytherin girl and suddenly she didn't feel so peaceful anymore- the way the Slytherin girl was looking at Mildred reminded her of something that had happened before, "N-no..." it was happening again. The smell of microwaved food, the awful sickly yellow her school's lunchroom was painted, all the children around her, it started to overwhelm her. She was there again, in her old school lunch room. At first, she was just sitting down at a table with chicken, she was enjoying her meal when someone had taken Chicken. Without realizing it, she had quickly stood up and walked backward, for only her back to hit the tree- her hand moved frantically around to only grasp the tree.

It felt like it was really happening again- chicken being forcefully snatched away from her as she stood there helplessly as they threw him around. "No! give him back" she shouted.

it was happening again. it was happening again. it was really happening again. She watched them pour milk onto him and throw the rest at her- "NO" she screamed again, when the sharp pain of her hands gripping onto the tree for dear life, she stood there shaking- heaving trying to get any amount of air into her lungs, the ringing in her ears threw her off. Where was she? black spots danced around in her vision when she had spotted chicken on the ground and picked him up. She hugged her friend close to her face- not even realized she was crying, "Oh my Merlin, Chicken you're safe" she inspected her friend closely looking at him all over- when she realized what had started this whole thing, she looked back at the girl who had commented on Chicken and held Chicken even closer to her- she felt immediate danger from the girl, without realizing what she was doing she had walked closer to the unknown girl and shoved her.

Nearby, a tree would rustle however for the time being the sound didn't register to Mildred and she thought of it as the wind, or something else.