(1939-01-31) Shhh! Arguing in Progress...
Details for Shhh! Argument in Progress…
Summary: Myrus and Esther have another spat in the library, as variel tries to concentrate on Runes, and Sybil comes in just in time to see the end of the show.
Date: 1939-01-31
Location: Hogwarts Library

Before classes on Friday, Myrus decides it might be a good idea to study up some on a class that… oh dread, he and Esther share. At least it was a class he was good at. Charms.
So the book in front of him at the moment was all but forgotten, as he had a small mail-sized piece of parchment in front of him that sits there blank (the kind you usually fold two times to put into an envelope and it fits perfect). Quill taps the bottom of his inkwell as he sits there pondering, with a pondrous expression and his lips pressed out and his brow slightly furrowed. It's after breakfast, maybe still the better part of an hour before the larger portion of classes begin for most students.

In the library as well, paying ABSOLUTELY no mind to Myrus, is a remarkably clear-headed Esther. She's set up her heavy book on the Living Image charm on a bookstand, and leant the small canvas she'd painted just for the occasion upon it. Made with just the right paint, mixed with just the right potions, all that's left is the incantation. The gentle flourish with her wand, and the muted, 'Depingo.' that should cause the picture to come to life. Or, in Esther's case, sit there and fail to move. The painting - A dog, sitting on a chair - Is slightly hurried. It exists to serve a purpose though. And she /will/ get it to move.

Variel sits nearby, immersed in a complex web of runes layered on a disc of wood on the table. He's extremely focused and has been for nearly twenty minutes as he casts on the runeweb.

Myrus looks up in front of him, seeing Esther casting (or trying to cast) Depingo on something. Ask if she wants help? Sure, why not. "Esther, need any help?" EsTHer. He sounded genuine enough. While deep down he was hoping she would accept his help, if she ignored him, he's not the one that looks like the one that's not accepting the fact they are toast. IF she accepts, he has the leg up on her by initiating the unspoken truce.
As much of a truce it might turn out to be in the end. His hand stops tapping his quill on the bottom of the inside of his inkwell. His writing wasn't going to get anywhere at the moment, might as well.

Esther stops, midway though her second attempt. When the spell finally catches, it's going to take her full concentration to complete, if only she can get the damned thing to cast. "That depends who is asking, and why." Esther's answer is smooth, and full of caution. But not full of that damned potion that so effectively neutered her mind. "Lately, I struggle to find you helpful." A sidelong mutter, "Or human." With that one exception, she's making no effort to hide the conversation. Let everyone know exactly what's going on. He's made this public, after all. So now she has to play the game.

Strain enters Variel's voice as he works on the runespell, the vitriol in Esther's words disturbing the extended spell. H tries not to let his attention wane- just another three minutes…

How to retort? Oh so many ways.
Most of it said with a flat tone while he goes to lifting his quill out of the inkpot, watching a drop of ink fall back into the tiny glass jar with the utmost interest, as though that was more invigorating that talking to Esther: "I see. Well that's an improvement, as a week ago you completely failed to find me /at all/. Speaking of, how is your new human working out? I wish you many years of happiness.. unless you find another before the month is out. Then I wish you and -him- many weeks of joy. Much many happiness to you, Em."
Ah, yes. A good retort. He doesn't look smug though, just kinda disinterested while speaking of that.
He only now finally returns his eyes to her, "Now, do you want any help, or not? You never gave me a straight answer."

"I think you've just given me all the reason in the world to want you to stay the hell away." Esther answers plainly. "Since you're determined to be juvenile, and petty. If I'd thought you were capable of aught else, might be things would have worked out differently. Depingo." This time, the spell catches. She can feel it. And now all it's going to need is for her to concentrate, eyes narrowed at the small painting as she tries to confer some kind of life to it.

"I think you've just given me all the reason in the world to want you to stay the hell away." Esther answers plainly. "Since you're determined to be juvenile, and petty. If I'd thought you were capable of aught else, might be things would have worked out differently. Depingo." This time, the spell catches. She can feel it. And now all it's going to need is for her to concentrate, eyes narrowed at the small painting as she tries to confer some kind of life to it. (Re)

The runes on Variel's tablet gleam and swallow his immediate surroundings in a warm blue glow. The redhead lets out a slow, relieved breath as the advanced defensive ward completes despite distractions. He finally turns and speaks to the others. "Esther, you're the one who snapped at him. Don't accuse him of being petty right after you declined an offer of assistant ance without any venom in it. You did just call him inhuman- if you dont want him around, say so, but youre sort of fuelling his remarks." His words sound mors like advice than a rebuke.

Sybil emerges from deep within the depths of the book aisles, an open book balanced within the curved palm of one hand. She'd disappeared back there with Gerald earlier after speaking briefly with Esther, and one must simply assume that the Gryffindor had either been summarily murdered and shoved within the dusty tomes, or simply have parted company with the blonde. The latter most likely. Its a different scene she emerges to and, pulling her book in against her chest, she looks between the three students. "Hello. Not interrupting anything, am I?"

THe thought that just ran through Myrus' head made him stand up, and look.. hurt. That hit a very sensitive spot, and he looses his cool for long enough to shakily begin saying, "And exactly what /gave/ you a reason in hell to /run/ away?! You just /DID/ without warning. Now what?" Shakeyness gone, he seems more offended than anything, "I'll grow up someday if this is juvenile. What petty reasoning will you find with Zayn? Eh? Or the next one? Or the next after you get fucking bored with HIM?" But he doesn't ever raise his voice past a heavy rasp.
A large slip. Glance to Variel, "No, don't mind her.." Esther said the right thing, at the right time. Someone else had gotten to Myrus in a private conversation the other day. And it reminded him that he's not a monster at heart, not really. That lead to realizing he's not mad at Esther.
He's really only mad at himself.
Esther is the easiest and most logical outside target because he's still hurting over it. Still sinking in. He moves toward the doorway of the library, book and bag tucked messily under his arm, and as he passes Esther, looking at Sybil, "No, you aren't. I'm just going to go.." He's not crying. He looks a little lost, and in his haste and moment of losing his nerve he drops his charms textbook for the class they have in a half hour down the chute for returning books.
He starts toward the door of the Library..

Esther slams her wand down suddenly, the sound echoing throughout the library. "Are you trying to score points, Myrus?" She asks pointedly, her voice barely lifting. She never tried being a monster. "You threaten me. You try to publicly humiliate me, to punish me, and now that I've taken offense you have the audacity to be upset?" Her smokey grey gaze follows him, "I tried to explain myself. I tried to apologise. And you were so busy being better than me that you didn't give a good goddamn. And now everyone is supposed to feel /sorry/ for you?" The incredulous nature of her voice is obvious. It's /her/ turn.
"I didn't run away. I left. And I've told you my reasons, explained my actions. And since then, you've been nothing more than a distasteful git - When you were once the closest thing I had to a brother. Because no matter what kind of a bitch you think I am, the fact is this. I never /tried/ to hurt you. What the hell is your excuse?" The Hair's outburst has attracted some attention, probably because it's slowly but surely increased in volume…

Variel glances at Myrus as he directs the redhead to ignore Esther's slight. He shrugs and nods, eyes turning to Sybil instead. "Hullo, Pyrites. No interrupting," he says with a sigh, reclining in his Ward. "Not like you can derail those two after they get started…" It's a longsuffering tone, that of someone with a couple eternally bickering friends. "Care to have a seat? If hexes start to fly, this is the safest place to be just now."

Sybil turns, leaning into her step as she heads over to where Variel sits. "Thank you," she says, taking a seat with a graceful dip of her head in his direction. Her book gets placed on the table, and though she lays it down open, ostensibly to read, her eyes are obviously upon Esther and Myrus. "Promise to throw yourself in front of me if anything comes my way?" Its a bit of a tease, her voice warm as she settles herself down and tucks a strand of hair behind one ear. "Its nice to see you again, Weasley. Its been an age."

Myrus stops, realizing his book is left in the returns slot, but before he can get there, Esther is returning the barbs he's been giving her for the past week. Deep breath, regain composure. Three words he can think of right at this moment, looking at her holding his hands up almost defensively, "Yes, aunt Wilhemina.." he says, quietly, almost meekly.
A few moments, "My excuse. I dunno. Maybe becuase I'm mad at myself. Yes.. that's why," holding up a finger in an 'aha' moment.
"Mad at myself for falling in love with a /harlot/." He turns to the returns counter, reaching in the slot and pulling his book out from the other end, luckily stuck on top of the stack of books. He never signed the return slip anyway, so it's still his, and again, towards the door he goes.

Esther raises an eyebrow, bringing her voice back under control. "It seems she was right about a few things, Myrus. Like just how little you mean to some men after they stop getting what they want. Go; I'm sick of the fucking sight of you." She sits down without a further comment. A slow, steadying breath. A hand upon her bookbag, knowing that it's in there, but that she doesn't have to take it. Her wand taken again.

Variel grimacs as the two lah into each other. This coukd have gone much better… but, no such luck. He stays where he is, as if the Spell Ward can shelter him from the negaivity of it all.

Myrus stops at the door, hearing what Esther says about some men leaving after they get what they want. "What I wanted was a lifetime with you. I wanted that painting, Em.." Only one he could be referring to. The one with her swollen tummy, him kneeling, kissing her belly. "..that'll never happen. Neither of us got what we wa- Oh, no… I guess you did, in the end."
He dissappears out the door post haste.

"The difference between a painting, and a reality…" Esther murmurs, in the wake of her cousin. "… Is that a painting was what I thought we were. Not who we are." A slow. Steadying breath. And then her wand is grasped, and cast at the canvas. "Depingo." Her heart isn't in this anymore. The spell does nothing.

Variel watches this all quietly. Another grimace as he notes the intimate, veiled exchange, watching the vitality leak from Esther. "… maybe you should take a break, Esther." He gestures to a free seat beside him.

Esther pauses. It takes a long time before she exhales, and gets to her feet, taking her bookbag with her over to Variel's side. She's expecting SOME kind of lecture.

Variel doesn't bother. He just lets her slip into the safety of the spell and relax. "Do you think you two are ever going to be civil again?"

"I tried." Esther states. "And he thought it would be amusing to hurt me. I apologised for what I did. He finds this entertaining. Otherwise he'd feel something. Anything."

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