| Details for Lines on the Battlefield |
| Summary: | In an early-morning series of events in the Slytherin common room, lines are drawn between several students as they each prepare to take a stance or make a stand of sorts against one another. Tempers and tensions rise. |
| Date: | 12/10/1938 |
| Location: | Slytherin Common Room |
| Related: | Declaration of War Girls and Quidditch |
| Characters |
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This early in the morning, the Slytherin Common room isn't exactly a hub of activity; the occasional student wandering through with sleep still creased into their hair, heavy-lidded eyes speaking of too little sleep or too much homesickness, in the case of some younger faces. The fire in the hearth is the only thing bright and eager for the day, the flames licking upward with the voracious willfulness of something that seeks to consume. And so it seeks, so it receives, as a crumpled bit of parchment is consigned to those flames, tossed in by a petite hand with candy-pink glossed fingernails.
"Again." The single word is uttered by the owner of that hand, the fifth year Slytherin girl curled onto one end of a sofa, a sheaf of parchment on her lap as she struggles to write, apparently beginning again, and if Peyton's apparent frustration is any indicator, she's been at this for a while now.
Alphard hated early mornings. They were the bane of his existance. The torture visited upon his noble self by terror regime of Hogwarts. If given even the least bit of oppertunity to do so, the scion of that Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would enjoy the pleasures of his bed far past noon. Alas, not to day. Not today. He dragged himself down from the boys' dorms with weary shuffle-footed resignation. With a yawn he couldn't possibly cover up with his knuckles, he dumped himself down into the sofa with Peyton, abeit on the opposite side. He curled up, closed his eyes, and looked as if he was about to fall straight back to sleep.
"Rise and shine, Black," Peyton offers by way of greeting, leaning over to wave the end of her quill under Alphard's nose in a manner designed to be irritating. "What is with you boys treating the common room like your bed away from bed? People dreaming nearby is terrible for the creative process, it drains all the potential out of the air. Not that any of it was wafting my way this morning, but that's beside the point." Tucking the folded pieces of parchment aside, she draws her blanket further up her lap, the dark green hue of her high-necked gothic-style nightgown dancing with the glow of the water reflected from the nearby portal window.
"Ugh, shut up, Peyton. You're being an annoying pest..!" Alphard groaned, and blindly battered away her annoying quill intrusion. He sniffed with self pity, before peeking a a bleary eyed look in her direction. While during the day he rarely looked anything but pristine, even stylishly so, in the mornings he was always a mess. "So what are you doing, anyway?" Now that he had finally forced his eyes somewhat open, he couldn't help but notice that she had been trying to write something. "A letter home? A sonnet for Marcus Goyle?" The last with a tease.
"Since when am I anything but an 'annoying pest' to you, dear cousin?" Peyton wonders idly, seemingly not concerned with the name-calling. "I think all that means for you is that it's Tuesday." When he peeks over, she gives him a fond smile. "By the way, your hair looks like a stray Kneazle has taken up residence on top of your head." The comment about her writing sees that smile fade some at first, but when Marcus' name is thrown into the mix, her cheeks redden somewhat and she affects a look of cool indifference. "I'm not big on sonnets, and what would you know about it anyway. I'm trying to finish the last chapter of my latest short story, but I've hit a stumbling block - the heroine has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, aside from being the knight's love-interest. She's not particularly smart or cunning, she's just… pretty. And I think he's actually too good for her. If I have to re-work this from the ground up, I may just abandon it entirely." She looks to him as if for advice, or perhaps as if daring him to even think about keeping up the teasing.
"You really are a pest. If you weren't also vaguely adorable I'd be forced to do something about you." It was a non threat, said with a half smile rather than any malice. Yawning once more, Alphard combed his hand through his hair, trying to get it into something resembling order. It helped a little bit, but not nearly as much as he would have liked. There could be no fixing it properly until he was infront of a mirror. "I know you're blushing, and I talked to Marcus. Your name might've come up."
"I don't really read any fiction. Why does the knight want her, anyway? If it's only because she's pretty, then he's an idiot, and sounds like he deserves her. What does she want, anyway?"
"Vaguely adorable? From anyone else I'd probably find some insult there, but it's a step in the right direction from the likes of you, Black. I'll have you know I am irresistably adorable to people whose affection extends past the mirror." Peyton watches Alphard's half-hearted preening with some subtle amusement. "You're baiting me," she decides, giving voice to her deduction. "You want me to ask what he said about me, or to ask what embarrassing things you might have said about me to him. But since he's nearly as heartless as you, I can't imagine either of you had anything glowing to say - so I won't ask." Spoken with a calm confidence, the only betrayer of alternate feelings is the finger that comes up to toy with a lock of her hair, agitatedly twisting the honey-hued strands.
"Anyway. The knight defeated the evil wizard and crossed a desolate wasteland to find the princess after she was abducted from his family's party a year or so ago, after they'd argued and he walked away from her. She ran out onto the terrace to cry and that's where she was taken. He felt guilty because it was her fault she went outside of the protection spell on the castle," she explains. "So… guilt? And also prettiness," she admits.
"I suppose you'll never know, then. Since you're not actually asking what he said, merely making witty deductions." With a slow unfurling he went through the initial steps of a stretch. The yawn. The spreading of the arms and the sprawling of the legs, until the whole of him rippled with motion. All of it vaguely feline, self satisfied, all too arrogant. Then he collapsed again, boneless and still hating the early morning. "We were playing Quidditch. He's not the best, but Jenny was being willing to play instructor." While Alphard had just enjoyed sending bludgers at everybody.
"He sounds pretty pathetic. You know, she should fall in love with whoever abducted her. He kills her abductor, she is struck with horrible grief, and kills herself. Then the knight kills himself too, because obviously he's that pathetic."
"That sounds like a cheesy adaptation of La Belle et la Bete," Peyton dismisses Alphard's suggestion right out of hand, though she watches him stretch with a more than academic interest. "If you do that in front of Esther, no wonder she doesn't sleep at night. Speaking of - since you won't be telling me about what happened on the pitch, maybe you'll tell me what's going on with the two of you? People are whispering; not that idle gossip is anything I put much stock into, but it sounded legitimate enough, considering that the last time I saw the two of you together, you looked about ready to strangle her. Has something further happened?" She tucks a cushion behind her back, reclining against the arm of the sofa to better regard the tousled boy next to her.
"I have no idea what that even means," Alphard admitted of her dismissal. "But sounded better than the 'knight conquers evil, gets princess, and they both live happily ever after.'" He shrugged with idle nonchalance. In the end he realy didn't much care what she wrote; she was the one who had asked him his opinion.
Though with Esther brought up, he made a vague expression of disgust. "Esther has decided that she's going to set herself against me. For what reason might The Hair, unpopular little bookworm most recently known for hiding in the Library, decide she could actually make some kind of move? I haven't the faintest clue. It'd be vaguely bemusing if it wasn't so pathetic, and if she wasn't doing it by associating herself with lessers of other Houses. Apparently she hates me. Again, I haven't the faintest idea why, except that I've pointed out that she aught to live up to the family expectations."
"Don't worry about it, you don't read fiction and clearly don't know a thing about proper romance, the knight is always supposed to triumph and get the girl, otherwise we wind up with snakey villains with bad hair," and here Peyton levels a pointed look toward her cousin, "Absconding with the girl and chaos ensues. I'll just have to ask someone less inclined to be amused by the worst parts of humanity for their opinion; I'll bet Gerald will have some decent advice."
She settles in to listen to his recounting of recent developments, her sea blue eyes widening slightly, though she crinkles her nose at the mention of lesser students. "You know how sensitive she is, I don't know why you would even say something like that to Esther. Even if it is true, saying so hasn't done you any good and really you're supposed to be more clever than that," she chides. "But now you've an 'enemy'. Are you going to indulge her? Or are you just going to frustrate her more by ignoring it."
"Meanie likes romance fiction. I roll my eyes when she starts talking about it, too." Meanie, or Andromena Rowle as most students in the school knew her as. The girl currently dating Alphard. In that cruellest of ironies often witnessed in schools, the fact that he often exibited borderline sociopathic tendencies hadn't really seemed to inhibit his ability to form romantic attachments. Though to be fair, when he wasn't sneering arrogantly at people, he wasn't a bad looking kid either. It probably also helped that he was rich, however unfair that was.
"She was being an embarassement. She still is an embarassement. So.. dramatic, and hell bent on antagonizing me. I've not quite decided what I'll do about her. Perhaps someone will talk some sense into her before I'm forced to handle her." Because one didn't maintain a reign of terror by letting people stand up to you! Alphard had his place at the top of the mean-kids pile to think about.
"Andromena has good taste, barring her current romantic affiliation, of course," Peyton says slyly. "Maybe I'll ask her opinion as well. Though of course reading and writing are two different things, and since every other person I know is an aspiring artist of some sort, maybe I'll spare her my scribblings until I'm published, goodness knows she has enough on her plate dealing with you, love." She listens again as Alphard continues with the details of the Esther Situation, and come the end of it, she half-shrugs noncommittally.
"I would talk to her, but I doubt it will do much good. Talking to her is a bit like talking to a brick wall when she has her mind set on something, which is usually is; and even more so when it's fixated on a bad idea, which it usually is, these days. I'm sure the two of you will get it sorted in good time; just remember that she's family and at the end of the day, it's the pieces of our own names we'll be sweeping under the rug if you break her. Please don't pretend that doesn't matter, it does, Alphard." She looks over at him beseechingly, her expression gentle but firm, as if awaiting if not acquiescing, then at least some tacit agreement.
"Everybody seems to think that," Alphard complained. "But I'll have you all know," even if there was only Peyton here presently to hear his decleration; "that she's hardly the one with her hands full." Because everybody knew that Andromena Rowle was a ton of trouble. Right?
His knuckle dug into his eye, digging for gold as he listened to Peyton talk about their cousin. In the end he let out a suffering sigh, as if the weight of the world rested on his brave shoulders. "Ugh. I know she's family. If she wasn't family I wouldn't have been treating her with silk gloves all this time." As far as he was concerned, he had been the perfect gentleman. "I'd have done an Abbot on her." Abbot being the last Slytherin to have pitted herself against him, and who after losing her prefecture, was currently rumored to be residing in St. Mungons. Her own little private room in the crazy section. "She's a fifth year nobody with aspirations, though, and she needs to just learn her bloody place."
"Perhaps it is simply the fact that you are so blatantly a double-handful of trouble that we can't help but to sympathize with her over you. If she has ever caused more trouble than a late library book, it's certainly been overshadowed by your exploits." Peyton lifts her brows slightly as Alphard rubs at his eye. "Charming," she says dryly, as if it is in fact anything but.
"You antagonize Esther, whether you realize it or not, and now she's had enough. Good for her. There are better ways to eke out revenge though, she should probably try reading some romance novels actually. I haven't the faintest clue what she means to do now that she's made this stand though; she's in the same predicament you are - you're family. You two should just kiss and make up. And don't say 'done an Abbot on her' please," Peyton adds. "Gloating is low entertainment, and it's a bit too close to home in Esther's case, you know she's fragile, and not just physically. Also, one more slight about fifth year's from you and I'll shed a tear, you know how much I value your opinions." This said with a subtle, sweet smile that could almost belie any sarcasm. Maybe.
"Listen, between you and me I'd rather not actually crush Esther. If she just stopped being an embarassement, and stopped trying to activly antagonize me like a very un-adorable pest, I'd be happy to ignore her. She's not worth my time, and at the end of the day family, Slytherins and purebloods in general should stick together. But she's going to force the issue. Like you said, reason and her do not go well together." With a sour grunt he pushed himself out the sofa. "Ugh, talk about a horrible morning. Waking up early and talking about Esther. Besides, it wasn't gloating. It was.." Alright, so it had definetly been gloating.
He started to drift towards the dormitories again, though on the way he playfully reached out to tussle Peyton's hair. "That's for earlier. I'll see you at breakfast, Princess. I never said there was anything wrong with being a fifth year, anyway. I was one. But things work the way things work," and younger kids were not meant to stand up to their elders. Except when he did it. Which was technically all the time. There were special rules written just for him. "See you at breakfast."
"We can't all be adorable, you should try it one day and you'd see how hard I actually work at it," Peyton says with some amusement. "But fine, be difficult - this isn't over," she promises. Oh joy. Ducking slightly to try and avoid the tousling, to no avail, Peyton sulks prettily for a moment. "Don't call me Princess like that, like it's a bad thing. My knight is going to appreciate me, tiaras and morals and all," she vows as he turns to go. "See you at breakfast, and save me a seat; you know I'll be late." Still curled up on the sofa under her blanket, Peyton idly straightens her curls, which are naturally perfect at any time of day, or at least any time of day with witnesses, and takes out her writing once more, getting back into position to try finishing the tale.
Rumour has already begun to spread. It was easier for it to do so without Esther staying up all night in the common room - Although the fallout of her decision has yet to reach too far. Instead she spent the night silently awake in the dormitories, thinking. Always thinking. It means the morning finds her tired, slipping into the bathrooms - Not even taking her usual hours, she's back out in ten minutes, drying her hair and looking actually rather tired. No mention is made to anyone of anything. Coffee is the most important thing to her right now.
Absorbed in her writing, Peyton misses Esther's silent arrival and subsequent exit into the bathroom. Her own tea is balanced precariously on the sofa beside her now that Alphard has vacated the spot after their lengthy chat. With an exhalation full of pent frustration, the sheet of parchment Peyton is currently writing on is unceremoniously crumpled and fed to the fire, and in that moment where she looks up to see its edges curl black and dismal, she spots Esther emerging from the bathroom. Or more specifically, she spots Esther's hair. "It's like every time I see you, it's bigger," Peyton notes idly.
"You know, people never seem to mention that." Esther comments with the smallest amount of sarcasm. She finishing making herself a cup of coffee, and yawns gently, before she takes it over to a nearby couch. "You wouldn't believe that it's been this proportion since day one. I've come to embrace the frustration." She sips her coffee, and smiles at Peyton. "How was your morning, Peyton?"
Peyton shrugs slightly, her amusement fading in the face of Esther's sarcasm and she draws a fresh sheet of parchment onto her lap to begin again. "We all have our burdens to bear; I can imagine a worse fate or two than hair with personality," she says mildly enough, though her displeasure is probably apparent. "This morning has been a piece of work. Your best friend Alphard stopped by to tease me a bit, apparently I was the topic of conversation at the most recent Quidditch practice but I refuse to ask about gossip involving me, all it'll do is frustrate me, really." She softens a bit when Esther smiles, though her next words are hardly conciliatory. "You need to call off this vendetta against Black, Esther. You're causing a stir that won't mean anything good for either of you when this is all over, and I know we're not terribly close, but I don't want to see you get hurt."
"Black started this." Esther answers simply, expecting the topic to come up from the first moment she poked her head out of the dormitory. She shrugs lightly, "The man is a cruel, loose cannon. He will continue to act as one, regardless of what I say or do. There is nothing I will lose by giving rise and voice to some of his fears, Peyton." She sighs, and sips at her coffee. "Nothing I wouldn't stand to lose anyway. He was determined to make me miserable anyway." So much for sweet and kind about Black. That's over. "You're sweet. But don't fret over Black and myself. Is there some way I could improve your morning, as at least a partial source of your misfortune?"
Marcus arrives from Serpentine Maze.
Peyton smiles wryly. "I said I'd try, I said it would come to naught. You're not being reasonable; what do you stand to gain in this game you're setting up against him? At least tell me there's some clever endgame or exit strategy." Picking up her tea from the sofa beside herself, she takes a careful sip. "He's not determined to do anything of the sort, by the way. He actually thinks he's been quite nice to you, so I for one don't understand why you feel the need to make waves - Alphard is Alphard, you aren't going to stop him from being a loose cannon; it's part of his dubious but considerable charm."
The mention of her own misfortune sees her simply shake her head. "It isn't anything I can't handle, I just need time to sort it all out for myself, preferably before it turns into a full-blown rumor."
"That is why." Esther points out with her cup of coffee. "Alphard believes he's being kind. Or doing what's right. Sometimes he is. Sometimes he couldn't be more wrong. What my dear cousin needs is a reality check. Someone to strap the loose cannon down." A sip. "I don't worry about Alphard. Deep in his heart, he's a spoiled brat. A coward hiding behind some skill with a wand and noble birth." She's never been this… Candid about her feelings before. "I would speak of him no more. Sufficit to say that I accept the consequences of my actions, and I have a plan to deal with him."
"Before what turns into a full-blown rumor?" That is Marcus' voice, who happens to step into the common room straight out of the boy's dormitory and just in time to see a giant squid eyeball staring through a window. The Goyle boy upnods at the squid, and the creature swims away.
He looks then at Esther and Peyton. "And deal with who?" Apparently, those are the only two tidbits he actually heard as he was coming in. Everything else, he missed.
"You're not the first to try and take on Alphard, Esther. But I'll say no more to dissuade you, you're clearly determined. Just remember that at the end of the day, we're all family and I would hate for either of you to embarrass me - or yourselves." Peyton might have said more, but Marcus comes in then, and she busies herself fussing with the set of her teacup on the saucer as if this is the most important thing ever. "Goyle," she greets briefly, her tone almost cool - save for the subtle rise of color at her cheeks. "Nothing," she answers quickly when he queries about the potential rumor. "Esther and Alphard have drawn battle lines in the sand between themselves," she supplies equally quickly, more than eager to change the subject apparently.
"Peyton is the subject of Quidditch Pitch Talk. And I finally became sick enough of Alphard to say something." The last part isn't entirely true. "I think we're both happier with different subjects, much as we're trying to lead you towards one or the other." Esther rolls her eyes at Peyton, "So why don't you choose one, or create something new?" A sip of her coffee. Tired. Very, very tired.
"Liar," Marcus calls Peyton out, when she says nothing. "I've known you for a long time, Crabbe. Don't lie to me," he tells her as he casually strolls over to her couch and plops down next to her. He then looks at Esther as Peyton elaborates, and then at Peyton as Esther elaborates.
"Subject of Quidditch Pitch Talk, eh?" Marcus asks, smirking. He glances at Esther. "And challenging Black will accomplish what, exactly? Make you feel better about yourself? If you feel the need to do that, then you're going about it all wrong." He shrugs and then chuckles once. "Change the subject? Why? The ones you're both trying to run away from, are far more interesting." His eyes settle on Peyton then, and he grows a little serious, watching her.
The look Peyton gives Esther is far from appreciative, but her voice is calm and even when she notes, "I do so wish my dear cousin could respect my wish to not be gossip fodder by not repeating things I tell her in confidence to any and all who ask." She looks then to 'any and all', colloquially known as 'Marcus'. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her, regarding Black. She doesn't listen to me, I'm not enough of a bully to be worth her attention." Talking about Esther as if she's not right there, Peyton's apparent punishment for Esther's perceived misdeed. "Don't look at me like that," she says, glancing away. "I heard you were talking about me, and Alphard's amusement has made it clear it probably wasn't anything particularly favorable," she notes, and now it's Marcus' turn to get a look of displeasure from the honey-haired Slytherin, though this one is more hurt than offended.
"As I said. Black brought this to challenge to me. To everyone and anyone who doesn't react to Black's world the way Black wanted. This is a natural consequence of standing up for myself, I'll not apologise to a boy playing at being a man." Esther directs her gaze at Peyton, next. "And if you think there's any kind of even implied confidence that wouldn't be broken by throwing me under the nearest broom a moment later," She tilts her head at Marcus. "You're well mistaken." A sip of her coffee follows.
"Sorry, I don't do sense talking. If she wants to swim against the current, she's a big girl, she can float or sink on her own," Marcus replies to Peyton, shrugging and then glancing at Esther, addressing his next words to her, "I think it's monumentally stupid, mind you. But I'm not going to try and stop you," he adds, bluntly. "We all do stupid things, every now and then after all."R Looking at Peyton, he shows the smallest of grins. "Look at you, like what? And I was talking about you, with Solomon. Black just happened to join in," he leans back, "I admitted to her… you know what, it doesn't matter." Frowning now, looking almost hurt for the smallest of moments. "I wasn't saying anything bad about you." And that moment is gone. "But, you'll believe what you will," he says, dismissing the concern with his hand. To Esther he adds, "So, how exactly are you going to take on Black?"
"So noted, confidences are for the weak anyway," Peyton notes. "Though for the record, I wasn't throwing you under anything, I was alerting Marcus to a situation that someone could well stand to talk you down from. Excuse me for caring; I won't make that mistake again." When Marcus gives up as well, she looks a bit put out, but Esther's issues become less of her concern when Marcus addresses her. "Why would I ever believe that? You rarely say anything nice to me, why would you say anything nice about me when I'm not in earshot? Look how mean you're being to Esther and she's right here. Face it, Goyle - you're nearly as bad as Alphard sometimes, so don't try to con me with that 'hurt' look, like you care what I think." Standing up, Peyton snatches her blanket from the couch, moving to potentially storm off in the direction of the girls' dormitory.
"I have options. There's overwhelming force, there's subterfuge. I'm curious to see what he'll do, first." Esther finishes her cup of coffee, placing it to the side. Listening to Peyton makes her realise that she might well have been a little bit too… Unkind, in hindsight. Talking about Black seems to put a new face on the otherwise sweet 'Hair.' She pauses… Biting her lower lip gently, as she looks up at Peyton. "… I'm sorry that I mistook you." There's more she wants to say, begins to say, but she silences herself. Not infront of Marcus.
All Marcus can do as Peyton addresses Esther is shrug. He listens then to Peyton's words, frowning, scowling really. "I'm not being mean to Esther, I'm being honest. And if honest means that I sound mean? Sure, whatever," he stands up as Peyton does. "I've never said I'm a good guy. I can be a horrible person. My brother? He's the good guy. You want a good guy, go find him," he tells her. "But what I am, is honest. I don't sugarcoat things, Pey." There's a pause.
"I admitted to Solomon I wanted to kiss you. Because well, I wanted to kiss you." He says that plainly, with no warning and no fanfare. "But you, you're always assuming the worst of me. Just because I don't fit your version of…" He stops himself, harshly exhales and shakes his head. "Forget it. I need to go get some fresh air before classes. Later." And with that, he just storms out of the common room.
Peyton's expression is patently disagreeable as Marcus confirms her suspicions - bad guy, horrible person, heartless. Disagreeable and disappointed as well, so when he comes up with that admission, it catches her completely off-guard. "…Marcus." But it's too late, and he's gone, and Peyton just stands there for a moment, shaking her head. "Boys." She turns then to continue on her way to the dormitory, her dark green night gown swirling dramatically about her feet. "Also, I'm going to throttle Jenny."
Esther shakes her head slowly. Boys are completely clueless. She doesn't bother saying anything to Marcus at this point, merely pushes herself to her feet and follows Peyton. Time to have a chat, it seems.
Sweeping into the dormitory with Esther on her heels, Peyton patently ignores her fellow Slytherin as she moves toward her bed, yanking her nightie over her head in one angry swoop. "We all have problems, Esther. Yours are yours, and mine are mine. And obviously you don't want help with yours, and I… should probably go deal with mine," she says, sounding somewhat resigned as she gets dressed, putting on a shirt that from the cut and orientation is very obviously some boy's and not a girl's blouse at all. "So whatever. I'm not the kind of friend you want or need, so don't bother."
Esther follows to the bedside, and manages to avert her eyes when she realises Peyton is finally getting changed. It's only polite. "… Peyton, you can't help with mine. In case it's not obvious, the only help I'd need with Alphard is from someone who won't accept his behaviour either." She draws her lower lip into her mouth, drawing her teeth across it and pausing. "… When it comes to my cousin, all I see are attacks and barbs. I was unkind before, I apologise. And as for your problems," She makes sure there's a shirt on the other young woman, before offering a hand for her shoulder. "I do care. Because you're sweet, and not unkind to me. I /want/ to help with your problems - And it looks kind of like you might need it, too." What would the Hair know? That remains to be seen.
"And that is where we'll have to agree to disagree. The only help you're going to find with this plan of yours will be the mudbloods and hanger ons of other Houses. Because turning on Slytherins is a dangerous game to play, one in which there will be no winner, only varying degrees of humiliation for all involved. But go ahead, do what you will. It isn't as if you're going to listen to me or anyone else."
Slipping her sock-clad feet into a pair of glossy flats, she drags a hand through her wavy hair. "Kindness is a currency, Esther. I spend it where it gains interest, and I lose interest if I overspend," she says frankly. "And I honestly haven't seen you to be sweet or kind even once lately, it's like your obesession with Alphard has blinded you to anything else, even how you treat people. So I'm going to go apologize to Marcus for being a judmental prat, and hopefully between now and when next we meet, someone will have shaken some sense into you."
"I…" Esther pauses, as she tries to phrase some kind of response. There's nothing, though. What she's called on is completely, and utterly true. The girl bites her lip again, and slowly turns away. Steps heavy, towards her own bed, she takes a seat at the end of it.
There's a moment when Peyton hesitates, as if she might take back what she's said, as if she might go to Esther to soften her words. But she takes a deep breath and draws her cloak about her shoulders, steely resolve in her bright blue eyes. "You're my family and I want what is best for you, and right now I think that isn't revenge on Alphard. I think you need to take a good, long look at yourself to decide if he is what's angered you, or if looking at him is reminding you of something you're seeing in yourself that has you so angry, Esther. If it's the former; like I said, do what you will. And if it's the latter… you know who your real friends are, and it isn't the 'Let's Get Alphard!' fanclub. Let us in, let us help. You're not a bad person, but you're a real one. And realness isn't all knights and princesses and happy endings." That said, she moves to leave the dormitory, on a quest of her own.
Esther's voice is soft, almost a whisper. "I… I don't know." She admits, quietly. There are actually tears in her eyes, as she looks at Peyton, and sighs. "I… I need to think. And you should probably find Marcus…" She shakes her head. "Thank you."
Emily has connected.
Peyton smiles faintly, inclining her head in farewell. "I'll see you later Esther. And I'm never too far for you to send a Firstie for me if you need someone to talk to." She leaves the dormitory then, cloak swirling about her form as she goes.