History of Magic V (1/4) *New Class 8/26*

[Essy ze Ninja]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

William Dante Nott the Third

Fifth Year, Slytherin Prefect

A fluttering whisper of a bird singing so sweetly and so softly upon the winds, gliding gently and soothing to his ears trickling with more emotions that than the young damaged boy had ever noticed, had never felt the bliss to hear before. He blinked his eye open, glazed, dull golden eyes slowly, trepidation purposefully building as he peered over the defenses of his fortress built upon his desk of bags and books and parchment— Molten eyes bore into him.

His lips quivered. ’You will never help me again.’

The voice rang—her voice—echoing in his mind, back and forth, a lethal blade slashing at every ounce of him as he furrowed his brows and stared at her in wonder, in shock, and, as if to try and hide it all in one brief moment… A sneer came to his lips, so defeated and halfhearted and a lie.

But his lips quivered. He couldn’t speak.

Clearing his throat loudly, he felt the impending stare of the professor upon him, he glanced back at Phi, then to Professor Powell, his voice burnt. ”We also studied Nicholas Flamel in our third year, his achievements and contributions to the wizarding world…” He spoke suddenly, his gaze upon the professor—but he only saw right past him, never truly seeing him.

It wasn’t until he slowly veered his attention to Phinelia did the glossy, fog finally drift from his eyes, the gold piercing through like the newborn sun high above the horizon, basking her in golden light. Unable to muster a smile, a look of wonder, or confusion, he simply sat there, his eyes locked upon her of molten promises. And no longer hiding behind his barricade, no, he was far too curious now to let this go.

╔══════════════╗
Location: History of Magic Class
Mood: Callous
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..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



fifth year - ravenclaw
captain - ravenclaw quidditch team
ravenclaw - female prefect
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
– Desiderius Erasmus
“The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle’s own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
– Aesop
“There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.”
– Socrates
“If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn’t.”
– Lyall Watson


╔══════════════════╗


Those eyes, if the boy's body and voice had not changed then his eyes had. Where there was always pride and challenge and sneering cleverness of a stubborn boy with one too many tricks up his sleeve - always to the point of Phinelia having developed a dependency for it - there was now almost nothing.
No, not quite nothing, because that is what she saw in her own gaze. Reflected just partially by the darkness behind windows and the still surface of the Great Hall's platters. Shinning things she avoided desperately after she had broken every mirror of her own and ignored every other. In this altered golden gaze there was tarnish, ruins crumbled to the ground of something promising to have been once magnificent and now past. Emptied hallows of a soul that was now only concerned with the bone-deep exhaustion of life and thoughts and bleary nights.
Phinelia choked on her gasp at the sight of them, their desperate confusion and heartshifting shock. The girl could see new walls slowly motioning and sliding down, allowing some deeper vision as she could not look away. Broken only for the second that the boy had to raise his gaze to the professor and offer the answer she had gifted him. But then they were back and every thing there was raw.
She choked again, bitter laughter tickling her throat. Self-loathing giggles and hatred for the sudden disturbing comfort she felt at seeing the Nott this way. No longer Tay nor William Dante Nott, now perhaps a new kind of creature. With broken spirit or no spirit at all. A different thing all together that could not even label itself, different and estranged in every glance at its own hands and brush of the fabrics on its body.
Cut out of its own head how she was floating above her own just the same. No long Phi, Phinelia von Ichval. Nothing near a member from the Medina family. Now calmed, quieter, darker. Afraid of itself with a fear that can only be experienced for one's own presence. Phi felt the laught bubbling up again but she battled it with another whisper, "I am sorry, Tay."

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[Essy ze Ninja]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

William Dante Nott the Third

Fifth Year, Slytherin Prefect

Demented horrors clawed through him, the nefarious incisions like yellow slits in his golden eyes, roaring and spiraling like a storm in fire as his gaze bore intently into the focus of his obsession for the past few years, the height of his curiosities even now. He stifled in a shuddery breath, his throat clenched and shaking and tense, veins throbbing with the blood pumping through him—the only sign of life left behind. His breaths were shallow now, as they always were, inaudible, bare and fleeting, as if his chest never need rise or fall, just simply lived. His mouth went dry, and his cracked lips whispered promise of bloody relief. The ferocity ignited in molten copper eyes struck him, pierced through the veil with hollow laughter and spiteful stars twinkling. Another shaky breath, and then his lips trembled. A darkness spiraled in this golden eyes, ill will manifesting jealous, greedy, wanton possessiveness.

Every toxic cell screamed, oxygen carried in his blood beseeched freedom, escape, death, murder and theft. He had no care for the world around him, gave not a second thought to the others in the room, the ones who would defend her to the end, the ones who would backstab him at any given chance.

A dry swallow constricted at his throat, and he never tore his gaze away from her; he couldn’t, it was as though her fingers were clasped tightly around his neck, squeezing harder and harder until blood ran cold as ice and not a breath was left with him. Not a scarce chance to mutter those words that hung on his tongue every time he saw her—

Instead, he stood, abrupt and powerful. Wood skidding backwards against concrete the very instance her words had struck his ears, the force hidden behind her whisper. But he felt it, it collided into his being and pinned him against the wall. Nail pounded into his heart until he bled.

Instead, he gathered his belongings in the middle of class, his eyes never leaving those Phinelia. Never, not even once.

He strode the few paces towards the front of the room, and paused, staring down at the fiery Ravenclaw as he stood above her. Ice in his eyes of gold, dead, and numb. ”No,” he placed a hand on her shoulder suddenly, slowly, wondering if she’d grimace away from his touch.”You’re not… Just get it done before it’s too late and you lose him forever.”

╔══════════════╗
Location: History of Magic Class
Mood: Forlorn
╚══════════════╝

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



fifth year - ravenclaw
captain - ravenclaw quidditch team
ravenclaw - female prefect
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
– Desiderius Erasmus
“The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle’s own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
– Aesop
“There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.”
– Socrates
“If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn’t.”
– Lyall Watson


╔══════════════════╗


There was wax dripping form him in that moment that he breathed and shuddered at his own pulsating life. Hot and melting, dripping all over the air and swallowing it with solid. Stretched like a thousand candles, all alight and burning relantlessly in hopes of perhaps being the smallest fraction of the heat and power of the sun in their combined force. They hoped too stronger, and he had perhaps flown too high, and all that was left of the thousand and one of them was this wave that peeled off William Dante Nott.
As he stood, shocking her and finally making her gasp, she saw the broken wood in him and the weak security of twine and maybe maliced eagerness. Obsession in every definition rose on his air and the wax continued to drip. Those candles had hoped to be the strength of the sun, and Tay had hoped to be part of it. Whatever sun had burned him up now, melted his winds and light his high as though it had been drenched in gasoline, it had thrown him to gravity now. And its merciless pull was ripping Tay apart, from the inside. From every side. The century's new Icurus falling from a height he had no time to calculate. Victim to a power he had not managed to breath in before it threw him.
And when he touched her, brushed her with fingers and palm that she had only every marked as those wielding danger and power she had to fight, she leaned into it - starving. The fire, suddenly, that had been his demise and his gravedigger that had made him so hallow now (and afraid in shuddering) lit her with fever. Wick of her own candle, it sparked and ran instantly following the line of gunpowder she had dried up into. Exploding her and reigniting. Fire once more where it had been extinguished.
She sat straight, as she always had, hair sleek and eyes moving in born lava and piercing consciousness again. The whisper in her head screaming just before his touch disappeared from her starved shoulder, but only managing an underbreathed whisper once it was gone and lingering, "I will not be losing anything."

╚══════════════════╝

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

William Dante Nott the Third

Fifth Year, Slytherin Prefect

Chaos and turmoil dripped out of every pore, glistening in the hate of the world. Cast himself so high up, the world was caving in, thundering on his shoulders the higher he climbed, each spine and head he stepped on to reach the top, yet their bones and flesh always ripping him down. Clawing at his ankles and his feet until he hit the ground, dragging him to the depths of despair, sunken like a broken ship, cracked and open underneath a sea of broken dreams, and lost, he knew not where to turn. Those bleeding eyes of gold sought no more, melting in molten core, eager for warmth. The cold touch of everyone left him once more.

And he shook his head over and over, the softest slight of breath trembled evermore. He stood, and held his ground, their eyes burning in his back, and his blood boiled scream, beseeched—leave him alone. The only focus on his heart, a fiery ease that softened even the fire in his dreams, he couldn’t leave it alone. His words would hold no comfort, his eyes they held only forlorn hope as his mind roared leave her alone.

Instead, that warm, calloused touch of flesh slid against the caress of youth, so fleeting with meaning and gentle in touch. A hand placed upon her cheek before he turned, and finally left it all alone. His back to the class as he drifted like a ghost and slipped between the door, only his haunting memory left behind.

╔══════════════╗
Location: Leaving History of Magic Class early
Mood: Forlorn
╚══════════════╝

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



fifth year - ravenclaw
captain - ravenclaw quidditch team
ravenclaw - female prefect
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
– Desiderius Erasmus
“The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle’s own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
– Aesop
“There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.”
– Socrates
“If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn’t.”
– Lyall Watson


╔══════════════════╗


Ghost had become familiar too, to the girl. Even more so the thought of ghosts, the need for them, the wishing for their presence, that choice need making in that described vital moment.
The back of the boy so quickly vanishing sent a violent stab in her lower back of remembered bile rising, quickly swallowed down.
Her own fingers grazing over the place where boney, pale hands had surfaced over. Hardly daring to touch it, feeling the patch of warmth then, before pressing down. Into her cheek, feeling every ridge of her molar teeth and jaw. Pressing in the touch from the fallen Nott. Turning swiftly in her seat to face the front. Glancing up towards the teacher and down once more to her parchment.

╚══════════════════╝

 

[Skuld HJG]

Jessica Sassareth

Slytherin Prefect, Fifth Year

Jessica had been scribbling notes on the overview and finally held up her hand. When she was recognized, the Slytherin Prefect added, "We had also learned about Ancient Egypt and Greece and their foundations in the development of the schools of magic." A pair of emeralds glanced in the direction of Phi and Tay, noting the exchange or hint of one. Inwardly, the ailing redhead sighed being careful not to give any outward signs of her inner torment, Everyone seems so close, yet I feel like I'm miles away from everyone else. Is it my affliction or just simply me? Everyone loves Phi... I actually wouldn't mind being really friends with her, but .... she always seems to have a crowd. Could she be a reflection of what I would have been, if I had been sorted in Ravenclaw?

Tay... There is something off with you, but I can't quite put my finger on it. And why does it make my skin crawl? It's almost as if you are driven by a deeper ambition....

Ronyo, you are ever the gentleman, yet you are cold and distant. You like an enigma cloaked in an impenetrable shadow. It's almost as if you're afraid of being hurt. What ails your spirit, my friend?

And absent friends... Where did you go Charlotte? I miss you so much. you always looked after me. I danced with you and almost kissed you... Did I drive you away? Did I overstep a boundary I shouldn't have? If I did I am eternally sorry for that..... And where the devil is Colton? And where did he get off to?  

[Porcelaine Ivory]

яεgrετ┃яσι ηστнιηg ♦ ғεαя┃яσι ησ σηε ♦ ταkε prιdε ιη┃яσι εvεяyτнιηg

Tired and torn away—at least mentally—from everything that was taking place around him, Colton dragged his feet into the classroom and slumped into the only empty seat, which was next to Jessica Sassareth. "Hey," he whispered in an attempt at a friendly greeting, though his voice was extremely weary.

The boy raised his heavy eyes and glanced over the blackboard to figure out what he was supposed to be doing, having walked in after class had already begun. By the sounds of what the students were speaking, they were going over past lessons. Sighing quietly, he offered his input, hoping he didn't embarrass himself by saying something that somebody else already had. "In our second year, we studied the Ollivander Family, the Deathly Hollows, and Beetle the Bard..."

As if someone had called his name, Colt's attention snapped to the corner where Phi sat, apparently having a conversation with Tay, though their words were too quiet for him to hear. His eyes narrowed further when he realized that the atmosphere between them appeared to be more sympathetic then tense. His thoughts racing, he forced his attention back on the teacher and attempted not to let his eyes wander.

нσω dσ yσu ғιgнτ α ωαя ғяσм вστн sιdεs┃ωнεn σηℓy σηε cαη ωιη?

 

[Porcelaine Ivory]

яεgrετ┃яσι ηστнιηg ♦ ғεαя┃яσι ησ σηε ♦ ταkε prιdε ιη┃яσι εvεяyτнιηg

Colton seated himself at the front of the classroom, intent on making up for the first class he had missed. With his notebook atop his desk flipped to an empty page, a fresh quill gripped tightly in his right hand, and new jar of ink sitting open and ready to be used, Colton waited eagerly for the Professor to begin the day's lesson.

Surprisingly, Colt was a bit interested in the topic of the lecture—Albus Dumbledore. His mother had mentioned him several times, and he had came up here and there in other classes, but the Gryffindor couldn't even say which house the man belonged to. With an open mind, he put his quill to the parchment and began to translate the teacher's voice into text.

нσω dσ yσu ғιgнτ α ωαя ғяσм вστн sιdεs┃ωнεn σηℓy σηε cαη ωιη?

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

William Dante Nott the Third

Fifth Year, Slytherin Prefect

Quietly shuffling into the classroom behind the mighty fallen lion, he meandered to his desk near the rear of the classroom and engaged in his usual ritual, withdrawing his book and placing it in the center, followed by his quill to the right of his text and an inkwell in the upper corner, followed by a final roll of parchment for notes to the left of each and every. His thin lips tightened to a thin line as his thoughts drifted to ash and fire… I’ll need to seek out Professor Cattani... He must be right. His thoughts mused in the silent chasms of his mind.

Shaking the thoughts away, Tay filed away each unwanted memory and focused upon the pursuits of Albus Dumbledore.

╔══════════════╗
Location: History of Magic Class
Mood: Callous
╚══════════════╝

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Skuld HJG]

Jessica Sassareth

Slytherin Prefect, Fifth Year

Jess entered the classroom with the other students and took her seat. And once she was set to, the Slytherin Prefect took notes on the lecture about Albus Dumbledore. The pale redhead noticed the link to Nicolas Flamel, and a stray thought occurred to Jess, Hmmmm... Dumbledore worked with Flamel. I might have to make a trip to the library to see if there are any books and notes on Dumbledore's works. Maybe I can actually find an answer to my own affliction...  

[Essy ze Ninja]

So you wanna call me the devils' advocate
But you don't even know the half of it
I was raised to believe in miracles
My life is so cold

Fifth Year Seeker, Slytherin Prefect
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Blonde curls bounced with every strong, lithe step until she reached her history class where she knew Professor Powell would be awaiting, her mind was a drift in thoughts, veering and winding, and utterly unable to concentrate. She bit her lip, trying to clear her mind once she stepped under the doorway and then reached her seat. A quill in her right hand, she dutifully took notes as students spoke up, pausing only when it was her turn. ”We learned about Ancient Egypt and Greece last year, the history between the relations of muggles and wizards, and how they once lived in unison. We also reviewed important historical facts and figures, like Circe the Greek witch, and Andros the Invincible.”

Location:

History

Desires: Perfection

Troubles: Patience

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