(1939-02-22) The Unforgiven
Details for The Unforgiven
Summary: Myrus loses his temper with Lucretia and she finds herself the focus of his anger. Despite it being quickly over, she refuses to forgive him.
Date: 22nd February, 1939
Location: Owl Tower, Hogwarts

The Owl Tower's floor is covered in owl droppings, straw, and small animal skeletons. Six huge windows are embedded both in the bottom of the north and south wall sections of this rounded room. The windows are open to the elements and allow the owls to fly in and out as they please. The tower is quite tall and has many recessed arches for each owl to have their own home. The walls below each of the recesses are also covered with splotches of owl droppings and actually give an interesting contrast to the old stone work behind. During the winter, the room is quite cold and there is a danger of ice on the floor. Arching off the south side at the top of the tower, is a sky bridge that leads to the palisades of the castle.

Myrus had been extremely scarce this week. Go to class, not talk to anyone. Not out of self pity or being contemplative. He was being confrontationally quiet. Ignoring people on purpose. Or giving the classic 'Find me later' bit. But he was often nowhere to be found save his own bunk, staring up above.
Today though, he's out, at the owl tower. Heavens to Betsy he lives!
Ahem. He's currently feeding his owl a life mouse he caught in the field. "Fjurik, this one's feisty. You'll have to kill it qui-" By the time he was halfway through the sentence, Fjurik had already pounced and pecked the back of the mouse's neck a few times to ensure freshly killed lunch. Gobble gobble and the rodent is gone. Myrus gives the bird some strokes to the side of the head. "Yeah, you already know."

"That's nice. Feed your victims live so they really enjoy their fate," Lucretia states, a half-smile on her face as she steps from the shadows that cloak the far side of the tower. Its no wonder Myrus may not have noticed her up until now, the girl dressed head to toe in black with only the faint glimmer of the pendant at her throat to potentially have revealed her presence. "How are you, Myrus? I've not seen you around school in the same way as I usually do. You've not been sick, have you?" Anyone that knows Lu might note the flatness in her tone and the absence of the lightness or amusement that usually colours her expression.

Myrus turns quickly. He hadn't expected someone to be here already. He'd already been here for a few minutes at least. He sees who it is, a bit of a condescending look given to Lucretia. More for startling him than anything.
He speaks as he turns back toward the owl on the ledge next to him, watching the tan owl post-meal preening himself. "Of course. It's healthiest for him to eat as close to his natural habits as possible. He gets sick far less often, even without magic that way."
Maybe unexpected, not to refer to the mouse as some unsuspecting victim Myrus would like to see eaten by a predatory creature thirty times it's own size. He went all booksmart on Lucretia instead.

Lucretia wraps her arms around her waist, hugging herself. "Of course. I tend to just hang onto the ones that Gaston brings me though, its much easier to shove them in a box and bring them here to feed my favourite owls." She leans one shoulder into the wall of the tower, holding out one hand until a small owl drops from the rafters and settles on her wrist. A smile is given the bird and she rubs her cheek to the top of its head. "Is that owl you're feeding yours? I don't keep one of my own here myself. I brought my cat instead. This one though, this belongs to Walburga. She lets me use him from time to time." Subdued. That would be the best way to describe Lu today.

Rus just, watches his bird as she talks. Until she's done talking. Then he answers. "Yes. He's mine." And that's the end of that. He doesn't offer up anything more. He just stands there and shoves his hands into his pockets letting the silence engulf them both in it's slightly chilly embrace of the weekend morning.

Lucretia tried. She really did try. "He's nice," she says, a small upward flick of her wrist given to launch the owl back to the rafters. There's that awful moment when silence does indeed wrap them in its grip and the petite young Black girl turns and walks over to the window, hoisting herself up so she can lodge elbows on the sill and look out across the grounds. "Are you going to send a message with yours, or did you just come up here to make sacrificial offerings?"

His tone is conversational, casual. "Oh, you know, just murdering small, cute, innocent little things today. No correspondence was planned with anything small, cute, or innocent except my owl." He turns his head and flashes her the briefest and faintest of smiles. Those words with that look of his could be percieved several different ways. But in reality, he wasn't trying at all today.
Difference between now and a week ago? His mood was a choice this time, not a reaction. Probably a worse situation than before.

"Oh right. A day much like any other then." A small wriggle is given to hitch herself higher on the sill, Lucretia not turning to look at Myrus, attention still focused on whatever's outside the window. "Wish it was Hogsmeade this weekend, I could use a trip outside of the school. Do you ever feel like things are just closing in around you? I do."

Myrus makes a face, then promptly answers her. "No," matter-of-fact tone. "On the contrary. It seems like nothing wants to get close to me, and if it does, it buggers off before I can even feel comfortable, much less closed in tighter than I can handle." Obvious reference. "I imagine you ask that becuase you're feeling caged. Don't worry. You'll get over it. A week, a month. They all seem to pass the same inexplicable rate after something leaves your feelings in a pile of refuse. Then another week goes by, and you're over it faster than you imagined, then it's Hogsmeade weekend again, and you look forward to a drink with some alcohol in it."

With Myrus' latest admission, Lucretia does turn to look at him over her shoulder. "You liked someone. It didn't work out. You're fifteen, Lowe. Fifteen. I don't think that you're going to die from what happened, even if you feel like you might want to. Or want Esther to. I don't know many people at all that met their lifelong loves at that age so I'm absolutely positive that you'll meet someone lovely soon. Or eventually." Perhaps Lu isn't the best person to talk about love and relationships, her own is so meticulously planned out for her.

Myrus turns towards her, and his owl flies off the ledge very abruptly and quick fast and in a hurry. "I'm sixteen. And you're what? Twelve? I -am- over it. You ask me questions. I answer them!"
He starts moving toward her with paced steps. Hand outstretched toward the side of her head, that if she didn't move or do anything he may end up pinning her head against the wall. Since that was the idea.
"Then you think you can lecture me about something you have far less experience with?!" He'd hold for just a moment his hand against her head downward toward the brick of the wall. That is, again, if she lets it go that far without scrambling or something to get out of the way.

"I'm nearly fourteen," Lucretia says quietly. She doesn't really have the chance to get out of the way since she's wedged on the window sill, or maybe she doesn't particularly expect Myrus to react as he does, but one minute she's talking to him, the next he's got her head shoved against the edge of the wall, her head gripped in his hands. Her gasp is audible, as is the cry of pain, her eyes going wide. "Ow! OW! Let me go!"

Myrus would hold there for just another minute. "Oh, pardon, I didn't see your big head in the way. Best not stick it where it doesn't belong, and it won't get in people's way." He releases as he passes by her on his way toward the door at the far side of the owl tower at a very liesurely pace.

Lucretia rubs her head when Myrus releases her, a wince given as she lowers herself to the floor. "How lovely. Didn't pin you for a bully, Lowe. You should probably apologise for what you just did." There's a small sucking in of her lower lip between her teeth, and she watches his retreating back carefully, willing him to turn and do so. Not just for herself, but perhaps for his own good too.

Myrus stops, and turns fluidly on the ball of his foot, stepping back towards her with his hands already in the pockets of his coat, and steps right up toward Lucretia, and he pulls her into a hug.
His cheek on top of her head. He talks low. "I'm so sorry. I wanted so bad to let her be right, I'm trying to be the monster she always painted something inside of me to be. It's there, but it's never been a problem until she left." He'd kiss the top of her head, "But it'll be ok." Some screws loose maybe up in that noggin of his. Quite shifty, but a calm stability about him. "I'm sorry I pushed you. Just don't act like you know everything anymore with me?"

As always, if she didn't flail or push away before any of the hug could happen.

"No!" Lucretia shouts, pushing Myrus away. "You don't get to hug me when you just hurt me. You get to say sorry and that's it. You can't hurt someone, then think saying sorry and giving them a hug will somehow make it all better. If it did, you'd do it again and again. And again. All your apology means is that I won't tell anyone what you just did, but I don't forgive you for it either. It'd take more than that." She squirms out of his grip, her eyes glittering, cold and hard. "I don't think you're a monster, or didn't. I think you're someone that's hurting and that's why I tried to be nice to you. Of course I don't know everything, but I'm trying to understand. So just go away, I find I don't want to understand you any more."

Myrus lets her go, but he starts to laugh. Probably louder than one should normally. "~ahh hahaha! Great! If a dog bites you because it's scared, do you kick it away when it tucks it's head and comes to you for forgiveness? Or do you pet it? You seem like a kicker to me now." Hands once again into pockets, and he rocks back and forth on his toes and heels. "Well, I take it my apology was accepted. You just want to believe people are hurting so you can butt in. You want to think I'm still hurting so you can have some heroine complex about yourself. Grow up, /child/." He smiles a sweet sweet venomous smile. "Because I'm not hurting. I'm choosing to be this way." His voice goes full of mockery, "Poow widdle Miwus~ boo hoo hoo~!" He mocks sniffling before he turns around and starts toward the door again. All jumbled, all an act. Yes, a monster of sorts.

Lucretia's posture is rigid, her voice unyielding. "If a dog hurt me, I'd kill it," she says simply. Another rub is given the back of her head before she turns her back on Myrus, calling down her cousin's owl once more.

Myrus chimes as he steps out of view while he speaks, "Remember those words, dear dog-watcher!" And his footsteps down the stairs are all that are left of him as he descends, a large smile upon his face.

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