Owl You With Me? PV Kae Closed

Kaegen was in the owlery. Why? Well, to send an owl. He needed to know who had left a magical item laying about the grounds. He needed to know who was behind this, and most of all, he needed to lay a voice to rest. One of the many, nagging voices that strained at his mind. Late homework, far too weak, not enough training done today, that vase is a death witch... These were only a few of the thoughts darting about the sleep deprived head of the young ravenclaw.

That, and he had recently found out what he was. He was only half of what they were, and needed at least a few answers. And that meant a owl, sent to the one man who would know something. What he would get back would probably hurt, but what was he supposed to do? Not know? He was just considering what he should add in the owl to make it less likely for him to regret sending it, when he saw a roadblock.

The dhampir was crawling up the stairs on all fours when he smelled something up ahead. Of course, by the time he smelled it the thing was about 5 steps away from him. A little girl, a little girl he knew from somewhere. Why was she sitting there? Was she trapped on the stairs? He knew they were evil, after all. But maybe she just wanted to block, trap and then kill the boy on terrain he wasn't comfortable with. Well, that wasn't going to happen.

Kae's eyes searched the walls. He could jump on one, then to the other, using wall-jumping to avoid the stairs and avoid the girl. It was a good plan. The boy leaped onto one wall, and tried to use his fingernails to scrabble a hold into the stone. It didn't work very well, but it worked enough. He lunged from the wall, over the girl's head to the wall above her on the other side where he promptly failed to get any hold at all, barely managing to avoid smashing his face into the wall as he fell off onto the stairs, and started to tumble down them, straight for the girl directly below him.

Hands were very helpful. They were hands, after all. They pet bunnies and gave high fives and held other hands for moral support. Tal definitely didn’t want to lose her hands. Especially not to Jack Frost.

No offense to Jack Frost, of course. But Talia quite preferred her tiny appendages intact and functioning. Definitely preferred.

Hands to humans were sort of like wings to owls, she supposed. Not just by the fact that they were both pretty much anatomically similar weird arm things, but because they were really important to both creatures. Without wings, an owl couldn’t fly like it does so passionately, and without hands, humans couldn’t ever pat themselves on the back to congratulate themselves for an accomplishment. Or whatever other important functions hands had for people.

Tal was only brought back to life from her spacey thoughts about hands when she heard stumbling coming from somewhere above her on the stairs. The thuds sounded a bit closer and closer with every second that passed, and it took the girl a second to understand that it was a boy tumbling down the stairs, directly toward her.

She quickly stood up and made her way down the few stairs to the ground floor of the owlet, flattening herself against the wall, out of harm’s way, she hoped. But she couldn’t help squeaking out, “Are you okay?” to the boy. And, before she held out her hands to help him up (add that to the list of primary hand abilities) she recognized him. The boy from the library.

“Would you like me to help you up?” Tal asked shyly.

The sharp edges of the stairs hit his arms, his legs. They struck his head and back and somewhere down the line he must have hurt his wrist. He was hurting now, a lot. The stairs had won again, another victory for the devious terrain. As he lay there on the ground, he felt the urge to cry. How was he going to survive, to make it anywhere? He could't even jump over a death witch sitting on a flight of stairs by ricocheting off the walls. The last time he had lain in a clump on the floor of the stairs, eris had been there. She had helped him up, and walked back up the stairs with him, the two of them crawling up on all fours.

So now what, now what was the ravenclaw supposed to do? Crying wasn't going to help anything, so he wasn't going to do it, that was for sure. But even as he resolved to not let his vision get blurred with tears, he could feel a huge salty tear roll down his cheek and to the side. He was a little boy, and he was far too tired, and he was very much in pain.

It took him a solid thirty seconds before he realized what was standing over him. The girl, death witch maybe? The threat, the predator? What was she, why didn't he know? She had been saying something, he had been distracted. Distracted with the pain, and with telling himself he wasn't in pain.

He scooted backwards as fast as he could, and stood up, eyes wide.

"You..."

Talia was wincing for the boy, it looked like the fall had hurt. If it had been anybody else, she would have immediately rushed closer and made sure they were okay.

But this boy obviously didn’t seem to want her to. He didn’t trust her, didn’t like her. And Tal respected that, though she was sad that someone didn’t want to be her friend. So, she instead just slowly approached. It was like trying to interact with her mother. Slow and gentle, nothing scary or suspicious. Talia still hadn’t figured out how to socialize with her schizophrenic mum, though. She hoped she’d learn someday. Better yet, she hoped that her mum’s mental issues would just go away.

But that probably wouldn’t happen.

So she just stood awkwardly, not sure what to say or do. Did she try to make conversation? Did she let him have his personal space? Did she inquire as to whether he was okay? Too many options, Tal was overthinking. A flurry of thoughts and emotions and memories overtook her mind as she had flashbacks to being back home, reliving the same worries she was now.

The girl shook her head, trying to clear her head from the mental overload, and sat down on a step, a few feet away from the boy. Look for the silver lining, she told herself. It’s what mum would want. For me to be happy. And with a blink, both the tears in her eyes and the overwhelming sadness were gone, a soft smile on her pink lips and her slightly sad but also happy big brown eyes in their place. She spoke in a quiet and melodic and truthful voice, barely more than a whisper. And when the boy moved even farther away from her, she just let him. In that moment she let her vulnerability show. A completely open book. She hid nothing, just looked to the boy with a confused and intimidated and raw and completely human shine in her eyes.

“I hope you know you can trust me...”

The girl's inner struggle was lost on him, her resolve to look for the silver lining flying over his head. The smile barely made sense to him anyway, Even something as simple as that wasn't exactly clear to the boy. And the vulnerability others would have been able to detect along with the truthful tone of voice was all lost on the Dhampir. He didn't see a smile, or a hopeful, kind little girl and he didn't notice the quiet tone. He heard words, as they were. Written out on a typewriter and handed to him on a piece of black and white paper.

He was capable of reading emotion, he was capable of learning what subtle smiles were, learning about social cues and when someone was actually trying to be nice. But he was scared, and hurting. And all those things just didn't matter to a brain that knew to prioritize survival over anything else. Deciphering what the girl meant simply wasn't as important as the facts that he was on the ground and hurt and she wasn't. And that put him at a severe disadvantage.

She hoped he knew he could trust her? Why? What had she done to earn his trust, to prove herself remotely friendly. What had she done other than spout hidden codes and warnings and then say she didn't know anything about them? A death witch, someone trying to survive, who knew what she was.
"Why."

He scooted back until he was pressed up against the wall, and then slowly stood up, not taking his eyes off of her. He needed to figure out how to get out of here in one piece, and he was worried it would involve getting hurt even more. Today was not a good day.

That was a good question- why could he trust her? Talia knew she was trustworthy, that was a given. But the reasons behind it? She just was. And she liked bunnies. People who liked bunnies were always awesome.

Tal supposed she was nice, right? She shared candy, and danced spontaneously! But those probably weren’t very good reasons to explain to someone that seemed scared. So then what did she say?

“Uh, well... I’m not here to hurt you,” she tried honestly, looking down at her hands. Frowning slightly as she realized that she had scraped her wrist on something during the commotion. She put her othe palm over it gently. You couldn’t feel it if you couldn’t see it? Not really, Tal still quite felt the stinging even with the cut hidden. The people who say that must be loony!

The boy seemed to start getting up. As much as Tal wanted to keep trying to win over his trust and friendship, the brunette didn’t want to overwhelm him, so she stayed sitting down. Until she realized he was trying to get past her. So she stood up as well, moving to the side and clearing a safe path to the exit. Smiling at the boy even though she knew it wouldn’t mean much to him, if anything at all.

What good were emotions, or honesty to a boy who didn't understand either. At least not very well. He knew what honesty was, of course, but he could never figure out when someone was being honest or lying to him. He'd never had any practice, never been introduced to the concept until his first year in Hogwarts. So how was he supposed to figure out what the girl was feeling, what she was thinking.

He didn't know, and besides all that the boy was very, very scared. Scared enough to take the exit the girl provided him, flattening himself against the wall farthest from her and moving along it slowly. That, and the girl was suddenly smelling really delicious. Like prey, or food. Maybe both. He didn't like the feeling that came with the smell at all, didn't like the way it tugged at his mind. His pupils shot in a desperate lunge for the corners of his eyes, almost covering them completely before retreating as the smell receded.

It took him a second to realize why the smell had receded. It was not because it had become weaker, but rather he had gotten farther away, his legs moving on their own accord, dashing down the rest of the stairs as fast as they would go and then sprinting out the door. He'd make it, make it to safety, or wherever it was his legs wanted him to go. He honestly wasn't really sure. He didn't care. He was hurt, and scared, and wanted to be alone.

Left thread