Slytherin Corridor

[Lauraisawesomeobvs]

Mood:Meh
With:This kid

"It's not lying if they make you lie. If the only truth they can accept is their own."


Eleri nodded at the young boy, and she quickly found herself losing the authoritative demeanor that she had just tried to portray. It simply wasn't her. ”It's like my cup, except in control.” She shrugged, looking down at her wet shirt. She sighed, realising that she was going to have to figure something out.

What if I told you to read between the lies
And I was never really by your side
What if I told you I've felt it for a while
And I was never really
I was never really in your life





 

[Sir Spazalots]

They say I am Gryffindor....

Tyler nodded. "That was cool I might look into it next year." He said. He smiled. "Professor May I go? And when is my detention?"

....But I am not brave enough to tell her how I feel

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



third year - ravenclaw
hermes
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“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


╔══════════════════╗

Damp, dark and desolate. It seemed almost too fitting for the common description of the House of emerald and silver and its inhabitants. Stepping with eerie shattering echo and the needed clip of water, molten eyes took in every detail present and alight. Ravenclaw mind working and wondering whether her opinion of the Slytherin House of a whole would have been differed if Ronyo's Sorting had placed him where he had been originally expected by each pair of gazing eyes. As well as whether her impression of the Dungeons as a whole would have altered had the vivid memory of the heart-racing fire of her fire year had not taken shelter here.
Yet, any thoughts that naturally and characteristically now formed in observation were set aside for another group. Ones of more use: how to transport the books, bag and personal things of William Nott to the Slytherin Common Room? And further yet, how to not find herself in another dangerous and physically harmful situation that was already looming with such daring and attention.

╚══════════════════╝

 

[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


Sparks of color and dismal tone bounced across the damp and dreary stone dungeon walls, William’s voice tied to the other end. His tongue lurched, hissing behind cracked lips as his wand wove into the air, chanting the same spell as all the times before. Coming closer, the grandeur of emerald and silver robes glinted under the perilous flickering light emanating from the torches hung above. He was at the far end of the Slytherin Corridor, where a fork in the road began. Cluttered around his feet were different objects, different materials, and elements, the essence of their structure an imprint on his mind and reflected upon the pages of the scattered open books throughout. Hardly anyone ever ventured this far down into the dungeons.

”Transfiguro,” the spell rolled off of his tongue, fluid and precise, wand targeting a wooden chair cast in a velvet cushion, stretching mass apart and ripping the seams, sewing it into something new. It morphed, long, and flat, bending arches into a curved and rigid form, slowly, and meticulously, carving into a shield. Scattered all around him were fencing foils, shields, and tools, none quite so articulate or embellished at his first true attempt with Professor Rosier in the woods, and it drove him mad, not being able to recreate it once again. And, so wrapped in the delusion for perfection, he had never even heard the whispering sigh of footsteps scurrying behind him.

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



third year - ravenclaw
hermes
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“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


╔══════════════════╗

The crack of light and the cripple of flying magic suddenly became apparent in the magnitude it was slowly building to the point of detection. It had wove into streams of air both damp as well as dark until it tickled the interested ear of Phinelia. Spinning with feathers bursting and eyes scanning for form, she observed the corridor behind her. Having had wandered for what she expected to be just over ten minutes, it seemed safe to assume she had become either lost or encased in a circle. Wherever the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room could be found, it was not anywhere she had managed to discover. Her heel and foot were ready to turn her around and out of the crippling confines of the underground just as those sweet notes of promising intrigue crossed her. With chipper, but cautious step she followed them. They led, winding and mystifying, to the ajar door of an empty space. Blinking with surprise and peering, molten irises nearly disappeared in the white shock of seeing the figure of target standing with his back to her. Frustration and curses of motion flying and bouncing with spell sparks and fire, Phi barely noticed the collateral of Transfigured objects at his feet like bones of a beast's feast.
Now, she thought, now she could place his things with a lightness of touch and a wisp of existence without the damage normally done in his presence. Regardless of the new intrigue and feelings of observational need for the character of William Nott - the flexes of mode were unhealthy and undesirable. Now she felt a responsibility - more than ever - to keep herself safe for the mental sake of her friends. For the stability of Colton, Ronyo and Jane and their ceased worry over her.
Opening the door just slightly further to allow the width of both her arm and the angled texts, she prayed silently for no sound to creek. With success and held breath, she held and reached into the space with saintly silence. Placing one text and following with the next.

A mound soon formed of the five texts and three rolls of parchment that had taken house in his bag, and soon the satchel itself was left. Holding the fabric in a clump, she lowered it lightly with sweaty palms and continuous paranoid glance towards the occupied focus of Tay. On her knees and reaching at hurt angle into the space, she suddenly leaned too far - domino effect. The cobble stones of the paved floor of the dungeons left a ridge for her knee to slid into, bone clicking with snap of cracking and pressure. Breath gasping audibly at the sudden, shocking sound, and bag falling onto the books and scattering them with a rustle. An explosion of falling instruments and gunshots to the silence that had flooded with the pause in spell casting.
Door finally creaking into a wide angle of opening to reveal the redhead in framed accusation.

╚══════════════════╝

 

[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


Weaving magic, parrying a blow, the fluid motions became more and more alike as he thrust his wand forth, finding himself at one in physical being, and focus; but his mind was everything but, scattered thoughts of reoccurring dreams and drowning beneath the sea of Roi’s memories, had all but worn his ferocity. The ancient spirit within him was a muggle, and he would have no solace in his efforts in the spirit, but warfare, and battle, was vivid. Nearly every night throughout the summer had been suffocating in the quick sand, lost amidst tombs, and wreaking havoc upon the golden desert and whitewashed pyramids, and with it, blood, and fire. Every conquest the demon had ever undertaken had flooded his mind, crystalline, and pure, as if it was his own sun boiled fingers clasping spear with ease and drenched in sweat—no—blood. At first, he had feigned his fear to his dorm mates, expressing the ridiculous nightmares, but had really, been sweet, sweet dreams. When he spoke at night, in his sleep, it was in the ancient tongue of the spirit, which had caused the abrupt wonder in his night endeavors. But he had marveled in every embrace of steel, every burnt and pillaged city and peoples.

And even now, twisting his wand to force one more wooden chair into a replica catapult, though with closer examination, hadn’t functioned properly. Frustration gnawed at his senses and distant mayhem whirled in tow as he raised his wand, focusing, suspending the wooden instrument before him that left such a bitter taste of déjà vu on his tongue. ”Ahem—transfigur—ah! Bloody H-

“Flipendo!” He burst, mid-swing, pivoting on his heel to rear around and face the blur of distorted red in the dimly lit torch flame essence of light. The ghastly spectral of his charm had collided against the form, casting it backwards into the very wall she had monopolized for security and silence. He heard the all too familiar hash of skin muddled upon harsh cold stone, and sauntered over curiously, to inspect the damage done.

”Merlin’s sake, you shouldn’t sneak up on a bloke, y’know….” His voice had lulled, hanging in the air with a sudden profound silence and stillness, as his footsteps had carried him close enough to notice the distinct dark molten eyes, pale skin, and gleaming red hair, and the obvious jagged gash that penetrated across her jawline and temple. ”Oh, it’s you.

“Come to return my books, I see.” He acknowledged with a pause, his wand still trained upon her as his gaze shifted to shred golden rays upon the outline of books and scrolls. ”All of my books, if you’re as bright as they say you are.” And though his wand arm had lowered, if only by slight degrees, to ease himself forward towards her where the desk had been hidden near the doorway of the empty class he had hid in among the Slytherin Corridor. But curiously enough, those calloused fingers hadn’t searched through the tomes or text, but instead, rummaged through the endless depths of his satchel to snatch up the healing ointment his father had prepared him for the school year, to avoid frequent trips to the infirmary.

”Here, just take it and leave.” Without purpose, without direction or distinction, he turned, hovering back to stare at the failed attempts of battered transfigurations and misshapen combinations of elements. ”And don’t come back without my book.” He growled, back against her and eyes focused upon his demise. Fingering the misconstrued matchbox, and tea cup, the shields, and fencing foils.

When the lightning struck silence and confusion had faded away, and just as he knew the shrouded silhouette behind him was about to turn and take leave, he hurled around sudden, and wild. ”No—to all seven hells with that—what makes you think you can come down here like this, and not say a word. Your friends have to fight all of your battles for you,

“You don’t have to be worried,” he continued on, brash and hasty, waving hands up in feigned defeat, a trait he had learned to use well. ”I won’t try and hurt you, we both know who’d be the better duelist,” Tay paused after this. A slow smirk formed on his lips as he tilted his head, and his hurrying words had slowed down now.

“But I’m not going to lie and say I won’t try when you turn your back, and leave, either.” Accentuating every syllable with honey, and with such elegance and poise, it was a wonder something so poisonous could sound so sweet. But then, just as quickly, that deep, sweet growl would burn with hatred. ”So you might want to answer me, or curse me, and be done with it.”

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



third year - ravenclaw
hermes
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“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


╔══════════════════╗

Shock, surprise and boulders of freezing terror hit just as hard as the sudden spell that targeted her. Aimed to hit just below her collarbone, it spun her at a harsh angle, landing the girl with a nasty hit ripping across her face. Flush and flurry and spotting white-blindness popped before her molten eyes as she blinked back the edges of darkness that were far more sinister than sleep. She faltered, threatening to teeter into a void with which she was unfortunately familiar at the wandtip of the same boy's weapon. Yet gears halted, tendons seized and everything screeched to such a deliberate halt that she felt once more as thought she was being hurled. Frozen points of time stood in their constant whirl and allowed every detail to flash, ever moment to be seen as ice until everything returned to moving. Turning back, switching gears and roaring with new life and determination to push back what could not be seen in the girl's vivid tunnelled gaze.
Her hand gripped the edge of the stone wall next to her, propping and supporting as every piece pushed back into place and she turned to face the boy standing over her with clear advantage in every area. Yet no spell.

And even if he had cast one, the Ravenclaw would have each of her senses completely oblivious to it as she gazed directly into irises of tainted gold and stone masks. Nothing shinned there - no thought apart from that of two separate rages and frustration. One over shadowing the other in a game of rope pulling the revealed even less than was already hidden. Words turned then, moving the gears and switches even faster in procession as they flowed to be crunched and analysed.
Eyes of fiery lava and hardening stone of light never moved a centimetre from the face of the infuriated boy. Direct and deserving, every thought carefully hidden away to make way for detailed observation. Silence stretching and turning over and over like a twisting hourglass before her small, fully-lipped mouth opened in just the slightest to make way for whispered words, "I was simply returning what you had abandoned."
Tone laid and spread thick with understanding and vicious insight on every word. Each lifted like balloons of gold weighed with the perfect balance to keep them afloat right before the tainted boy's gaze; obstructing and being obviously known with silence and whatever element filled them with such a brim. Never shaking in the none existent breeze, and never threatening to leave until they were destroyed or released by one of the many bent needles laying behind the Nott like shards of broken bones.

╚══════════════════╝

 

[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


”Simply returning what I had abandoned,” he mocked her viciously, venom glinting in those pearl fangs as his lips curled into a sneer, eyes rolled back sardonically, and he could tell, she didn’t even believe herself. He had the just reason to laugh, but no humor quivered at his throat, and no sense of laughter could be found dwindling within the very corrupt core of the boy who stood hard as stone. There was a profound deft thickness within him, though short, he was long of limb, and broad of shoulder, and a certain trace of muscle was easily noted behind the bustling roundness attributed to his features. Eyes of infamous gold sat unparalleled to the molten hues of his own personal Hell.

But where had he seen those eyes, before?

”You can’t hardly expect me to believe you when you don’t even believe yourself!” He dared accused, but the evidence in her shock of silence and unwavering stance rang clear in his ears. ”You really are ignorant as you are daft, sure, smart on paper and with words, but you have no sense, do you?

“Get out of here, before I mean to change my mind about you, I have no qualms losing to the likes of you if it means I’ll get to see that horrified face of that lion of yours…

“He won’t always be here to protect you, after all.” A wave of his hand was all he offered, insisting that she turn and act as though she had never come at all.

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



third year - ravenclaw
hermes
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“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


╔══════════════════╗

Eyes before both set, stern and holding a faint light of ever-present curiosity suddenly narrowed. The boy's last words ringing in the air to be confronted. It seemed the young girl tensed; back straightened and feet clicked together at attention, hands turning to firsts as her eyes did not glare by instead questioned along side her words. "Why do I need his protection?" all the other insults felt like water sliding from her shoulders. Barely dampening her cloths or hesitating on her goosebumped skin. Hair as fiery and alight as her now-solemn focus on the Nott, she felt the same presence between them present in the boy's manor. When he revealed tales of a history to her, hidden under a constructed veil, and she simply listened. There had been a connection vibrating between them of one listening and the other giving something to listen to. Now, it changed in frequency as, where they should have been demand, her tone instead was calm and simple. Pure. Inquisitive like a curious child about a country she had pointed to in an atlas rather than a friend feeling assault on someone dear to them. There was another presence between them, another layer to her and to him.

╚══════════════════╝

 

[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


”Why don’t you ask him that, yourself?” He spat, his eyes lingering on the threat of puddled blood that seeped forward from the wound, springing like a fountain, but only because it was a head wound. He had received enough of those to know that his potion would only have the effects healed after several days, but in that time, it would diminish into a scar, and then to nothing, as if it had never even existed upon her face.

He turned on his heel, whirled around to face the wall leaving his back open to her yet again, seemingly closing the discussion as he crossed the threshold and then casually propped himself upon a desk lounging against the back wall. He was recoiled, ready, and waiting, watching her with hungry eyes. Knowing, that as soon as she left, he would follow her, until his opening appeared.

”I can only assume that he never told you all those times he followed me, and warned me, and threatened me.” But he shrugged his shoulders, so simply, so idly. ”But I don’t care, there’s a darkness in him too, I’ve seen it, just as you have.

“But I saw more.

“Oh- I saw his fears long before anyone else did in Defense against the Dart Arts class last month, and oh, he saw mine as well.

“There’s a lot more in common, me and him, but he’ll realize it soon enough…...

"Like you…

“We both have you in common.” Cryptic, and omniscient, a knowing smile lurked upon those lips, shadowed beneath those eyes of swirling gold as he wove a web of silver strings, trying to bait her in.

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



third year - ravenclaw
hermes
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“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


╔══════════════════╗

Phi's eyes never narrowed - never showed a sign of bitterness for the words being tossed and projected with the burdens and possible truths tainted. Instead they widened, the Ravenclaw could practically feel the personified engrossment filling every particle and space of her being. The possible threats and traps bouncing like ricocheted bullets from her as she restrained to not take a step closer tot he violently writhing boy. His aura and his words like delight and flower petals as every part of her breathed into thoughts. "He doesn't need to tell me, I know him. He wants to protect me," she said evenly with with every honesty as the memory of flush, touch and spiralling spring of emotions and contact returned to be presented before her eyes, "But that doesn't mean I need him to." Her eyes then narrowed; with no spite or threat on her gaze but instead in the action of attempted closure. Turning and angling her head with the squint of molten as thought she was attempting to see a fine detail she was otherwise blind to in the full hit of light. Questions beginning to pour from those defined boundaries and hitting with a concentration into the film of the air and its elemental control. Winds sweeping between them and restricting the Ravenclaw from moving away from the opportunity no matter how much the tiniest part of her wished to. "Why," her voice hitched, a sudden alarm blaring in her head, crying to halt. To seize to turn around and reform her words, her thoughts. With a blink of her eye, the Slytherin's trap could almost be seen before her in the blinking patch on her irises from seeing something too bright. It was there and it was dangerously hungry - every logic showed it to her, every instinct and sense felt it and warned her of it. If personified hands could go behind ripping at her mind and covering over her eyes and mouth, they would be pulling on her head in their sudden distress. However, the train of thought blasted on, "Me?"

╚══════════════════╝

 

[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

♜ Golden flints struck with a spark of smoldering embers like melted gold, swirling in a haze beneath the glossy veneer of flickering against the torchlight. And he saw it, breathed it, the fire, all of the fire that roared in the dungeons all those months ago. His lips had twitched into a smile, and it whispered the tale of poisonous retribution and malicious consequence. A man with his back against the wall and death shining in his eyes, ”Well isn’t it simple?” He had dared incredulously.

”You do hold our secrets close, don’t you? Mine and his…

“But what would it take?” He emphasized each word, deliberate and purposeful as he drawled on casually, more than eager to fill the void of silence that followed her relentlessly.

”What would it take for me to finally get you to give me back my book—Hm?

“What do you need? How much? What do you want to know?” He enforced, his voice booming with a thundering solid diction, fierce and impatient, smoking his prey out of the rabbit hole, but was it false promises, or was he so desperate now that this was what he had been reduced too. Or?

Or could it have been that he was simply just testing her.

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Ronyo Storm]

((OOC: White Fox Post moved
Apologize I clicked the wrong thread and did not double check my location. Deleting would still show my post as the last so I don't wish to confuse anyone.))  

[Ura the rainbow King]

Shin Sever

My name is Shin Sever...

I am not the Youngest, or the brightest son...

..I am the most hated, But I am strong.

Slytherin 6th Year

> Shin went to the opening and looked it over. He really was tired and irritated. He turned, showing the children how to get inside, before gesturing them to the entrance. He would make a speach, but he knew he could always do it later.

⁈Prefect⁉

Mood? Fine
Emotional state? Down trodden
Physical State? Good. Very good  

[Ura the rainbow King]

Marko James

I may not fully SEE you....

I may not fully HEAR you..

````Marko sighed and followed, before almost tripping on the cobble stone floor. He cought him self. He was at the back of the line.

But I KNOW you are there.