| Details for No Help Wanted |
| Summary: | Elizabeth tries to help Myrus, who is unreceptive mostly |
| Date: | 1939-01-24 |
| Location: | Ravenclaw Commons, Great Hall |
| Related: | — |
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It had been at least a few hours since anyone had seen or heard from Myrus. Last anyone might have seen he was trying to write something but kept having to crinkle pieces of parchment up and throw them into the fire. Then someone started talking to him, said everything would be alright, then it looked like he was having a breakdown.
It was nearing dinnertime, and Myrus didn't want to go anywhere. Go down to the great hall, get some food, eat, and dissappear again. For now, he's made it to the bottom of the stairs of the boys tower, sitting on the second to bottom step, feet on the first step, forearms on his knees and hiding most of his face other than his eyes, which were red and a little swollen but dutifully staring straight ahead of himself at the wall across the common room.
Considering what had happened the night before, or at least the tail end part that Elizabeth had caught, she made a note to make sure to search out Myrus. Emerging from the castle proper, her pale eyes spot him for what is a brief pause before she approaches the boy, casually lowering herself to take a seat next to him, on the lowest step of the boys' stairs. There's a significant change to her since the last time they had a conversation. Her raven hair, usually braided, is now loose in gentle waves over her shoulders and along the curve of her back. And the pale pink of her lips is stained with a deep crimson, making her pale skin look almost porcelain. She just calmly sits there, obviously waiting for Myrus.
Myrus just keeps looking forward for what might feel like an eternity. For certain it was a good two minutes. "What?" Myrus croaks. Obviously at Elizabeth sitting there next to him. "You here to tell me everything's going to be 'ok', too?" Bitterness in his voice might say that she was one of several in a line of questions and suggestions and support that was coming too much too early for him. Right now he was still in shock from it.
"No." Elizabeth says calmly. "I'm not here for that." Quirking a brow, she turns her head ever so slightly to glance at him, merely observing. "I'm here to be your sounding board. If you seek advice or comforting words, I'll give it, but from your demeanor I believe you are already sick of them. However, just know that I do not 'spew' empty words."
Myrus shifts his eyes to look at Elizabeth on the step down from him. He wasn't saying anything else for the moment, but he looks ahead of himself again, and his eyebrows push down in concern. "..I am.." as far as while she's speaking, he interjects when she says he seems sick of them. And his head turns downward to hide his eyes, and a small shudder of his shoulders as a single sob bubbles up. Every time he finds a calm place for his mind to rest, someone comes up to talk to him about it again offering support. He couldn't get away from it. But his stomach rumbles loudly. Had he eaten since he found out? Didn't seem like it.
He hides his eyes, though the shake of his shoulders is unmistakable. Nor is the loud growl of his stomach. Exhaling a small breath through her nose, there's a long moment of silence before Elizabeth gently pushes herself to her feet, rising smoothly. Turning to look back at Myrus, she extends a hand for him. "Come on. We're going to the Great Hall to get you some food." she murmurs, just as calmly. "As terrible as you feel right now, you need to move forward. So you do this one step at a time. Which means, you need to push yourself not to neglect your health." Elizabeth murmurs, though she arches a brow. "And don't make me do the airplane spoon to force feed you."
Myrus sighs at her words, his breath hitching at the last moment. He lifts his head up and reaches to take her hand to stand. He nearly walks past her, mouth opening to say something, but he stops, and just closes his mouth, waiting for her to walk with him. Forearm across the face, a moistened sniffle, hands quickly moving to his eyes to wipe them clear.. again. The movement and form of his mouth as he wipes his eyes betrays the strong-ish demeanor he was trying to uphold, morphed into a frown, threatening another sob, and another until he couldn't stop once again, but he holds tight, pulling his hands down and taking another deep breath.
As he reaches out, Elizabeth in turn takes his hand to help Myrus to his feet, silent. And releasing the hand, she watches as he struggles to contain himself, contain the flood of emotions that still threaten to sweep him away in the powerful current. But she's patent, waiting until he's ready before they begin making their way to the Great Hall. "You know what happened at the Skyes Gala, right?" she asks lightly.
--- The Pair moves to the Great Hall -——
Myrus nods, following Elizabeth through the halls towards the great hall. "Yeah.. that was terrible." He heard people were tortured and even died to unforgivable curses. Through the halls, people wanted to talk, and whisper. Oh if looks could kill, it might not be as bad as Myrus actually telling people off, to go away or they'll find their toes where their fingers are in the morning, and fingers in a drawer. Yes, Myrus was seething underneath all the pain.
Elizabeth just ignores those around them as they whisper, not minding them. Unlike Myrus and his glares. She merely dips her chin with a singular, small nod. "Anthony Rowle was one of those that was targeted by the curse. He's been different since then." Different she can't say how. "But I think he's been dealing with it in his own way. He's been running regularly." Her pale eyes glance to the boy beside her, as they enter the Great Hall. "If you want a suggestion on how to vent, I would suggest that."
Myrus loses it when she speaks of running and suggesting it to vent his frustrations. It might seem uncalled for until he explains after his quiet hysterics die down, "You told me a long time ago to stop running.. I believe you almost ruined my scarf. And now you are suggesting running? Quite the contrary." He follows to a spot without many people there yet, and flops down. THe moment of laughter was done, gone, and forgotten by the time he sits. Maybe something was jarred loose with finding this out.
He might be having a mental break down, Elizabeth notes this. But she couldn't help the faint smirk. He takes a seat, and she calmly lowers herself to sit on the part of the bench beside him. "Literally running is very different than running away emotionally, and you know what I meant." She casually arches a brow at him. "And if you are this upset about your scarf, I can replace it for you." He was nitpicking and she knows this. "It's a suggestion, nothing more. Though I have noticed a good deal of girls have taken a keen interest in his body since he's been running." The comment is a casual one as Elizabeth pulls a plate towards her and begins filling it with different sides.
Myrus just shakes his head at the suggestion, sneering and getting loud for the first two words, "I DON'T- want.. a lot of girls… I just-" hold it back, keep yourself together. He reaches out to grab some food, just a little bit. A single roll, matter of fact, and he takes a little bite of it, trying to forget while nibbling the roll.
"I'm not saying you are. Nor am I saying that Anthony is doing that with that goal in mind." Elizabeth murmurs calmly, pulling a hot drink of pumpkin juice towards her. "I am stating that he is running because of what he was forced to endure at the Gala. The terrorism… it's more than what is imaginable, I think." Clearly she worried about Anthony as well, but after a moment she merely shakes her raven head. "What do you think you should do?"
He nibbles at the roll, lost in space as she's talking to him, but he's still listening. At least halfway. "What.. should I do?" He looks at the roll in his hand, like it just appeared there without him actually grabbing it, then to Elizabeth like she had just appeared there. "Um.. I don't know. I want to-" His eyes close, and he shakes his head. Those blasted emotions of rage that writhe just under the surface. He didn't realize it, but his hand was crushing the roll he held, as he slowly pulls it up to his mouth and bites off the bulb of bread that poked from the top of his hand. And he silently chews.
Clearly the question had taken him surprise. And by the look of his roll… Elizabeth exhales a small breath and reaches out to lightly place her hand over to cover the top of his crushed roll. "Myrus… you are a Ravenclaw." she quietly reminds. "You need to think this through, what you want to do now to move forward. But whatever you do, it needs to be constructive, not destructive."
The male ravenclaw looks down at her hand held over his hand, and pulls it out from underneath her hand, shoving the roll into his mouth, brow furrowing more. "COnstruction or destruction… can't I have both?" He turns his head to look at her, chewing slowly… like a camel.
Elizabeth allows her hand to be pushed away without any complaint, a small chuckle emitting from her lips. "Who's being contradictory now, hm?" She takes a sip of her drink. "Pick construction, because otherwise you will find only more pain. And you deserve more than that."
Myrus just shakes his head. He looks around, and sees that there are a lot more people starting to enter the great hall for dinner. Myrus starts to look like he's uncomfortable. He's looking around, like he's searching for someone, but he hasn't found them yet. An eager look from face to face, nearly franticly searching for someone.
"Myrus… eat more than a roll. Please." Elizabeth ask of him softer, without glancing at him. "And don't make me worry for too long, okay? Despite what happened in the past between us, or lack there of, I still consider you a friend." And she worries. She gently shakes her raven head once as she sets down her drink, before pushing herself up to rise to her feet.
The Ravenclaw boy finishes the roll, and he looks at Elizabeth as she tells him to eat more. He reaches out, and snags a grape from a bundle, and eats it. "There," he says, nearly scowling as he swallows it, "Just ate more than a mucking roll.." he mutters, and starts to get up himself. And it looks like he's starting to hit a low again, as that pile of bricks known as heartache lands atop him, and he has to hold back bursting into glorious emotional downs in front of everyone.
Elizabeth gives him a mildly flat glance as Myrus swallows a grape, of all things. To spite her. "You do realize I'm not the enemy, right?" she asks. "I'm trying to look out for your health." She loosely rolls her eyes. Between him and Gerald, refusing to go to the hospital wing. Exhaling a small breath, she gently shakes her head to herself.
Myrus sighs. It's these times that he realized he's being an utter twit. But he had his reasons! He just… ok so he reaches out and grabs a blueberry muffin. He wasn't going to eat it later, but he was just going to grab it for her. For Elizabeth. "Elizabeth?"
He says her full name, and steps away from the table, and towards her, his voice starting to falter, that rush about to break the dam and flod the rest of whatever Myrus was trying to do, if he hurried, he could at least get out of the great hall fast enough. "Can you stay with me for just a little while longer..?" And if they were to leave together, or him by himself, once he got out of the great hall, he'd lose it.
Her name gives the young woman pause enough to glance at Myrus, though his voice was faltering. He was still emotionally unstable, and when he pleaded with her… Another small breath parts from her lips. "Of course." she agrees. "Let's go." Elizabeth will give him a reason to leave, in case he does need to break down. She waits for him a pause before they begin walking out together. "If you wish, I can show you the paper I've been working on."