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Post by SOFIA ABOTT on Jun 23, 2024 10:36:34 GMT -5
The day had dragged along slowly for Sofia; each clock tick felt like a personal attack. A reminder that she had time to stew. She had time to be frustrated and angry, and was it sadness? She wasn't entirely sure, but he refused to acknowledge it. Whatever it was, it came over her in waves, and she found it unfair and unwarranted. It wasn't as if she had told Don of her feelings—truthfully, she was mortified by them—and so, therefore, his crush on someone else shouldn't have come as a surprise. Yet it had. It had come as an utter shock, and the shock of it offended her greatly. The fact that she was surprised by it made her feel stupid. It made her feel less than the weaselette, and that was not something that had sat well with her.
She had allowed the stupid, red-haired, smiling boy to break her heart, and mostly she was angry at herself for allowing it. She'd allowed herself to sink too low. To hope too high. She would never forgive him. Or her. It had taken her more than a few days to recover from it all. And now, she decided, she needed to find a way to put it all in a box and lock it away so it couldn't upset her further.
That lingering thought had urged her on, her journal in hand as she sat on the floor by the fire. Thankfully, the common room was mostly empty, save for a few people who were at the other end of it, and she watched the flames dance before her as she ripped page after page from her journal, crumpling up the paper and watching it burn. It should have been cathartic, but mostly it just made her anger resurface. She had put a lot of effort into the pages. Her anger, then, in turn, caused tears to form. So now she was sat, burning paper, and crying. Pathetic, she thought.
NOTES: to anyone happening upon this - this is presumed to be after the reveal of Don's crush on Rose Weasley. Sofia has a flair for the dramatics. She's spoiled rotten and being told she isn't the center of someone's world is a horrible experience for her (I know, I'm cackling too.) TAGGED: JULIAN MULCIBER
Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on Jun 25, 2024 7:56:04 GMT -5
It was well after supper and the torches in the Slytherin dormitories had flamed long ago to ward off the inky blackness of the lake. Julian leaned against the window frame, staring out into the abyss absent-mindedly, deep in thought. There was truly nothing to see during the night - the Black Lake's inhabitants were well concealed amongst the weeds - though it was not the prospect of sighting any magical creatures that captured his attention. Instead, he was driven inward - thoughts concerning the past few weeks ripe at the forefront of his mind.
A lot of changes had been set into motion over the course of the winter break for him: his time spent with Levi at his families' home had certainly reinforced his bond with the Ravenclaw, but also legitimized his animosity toward Levi's father; his legilimency training had begun with Alaric Faust - easily the most dangerous (and therefore most respected) wizard Julian had ever had the honour of learning from, and his cousin, Olivia, had finally been released from the Hospital Wing - freeing up much of his spare time at the school, particularly at night. It was a strange thing, however, to feel rather empty in having nowhere to particularly be anymore, and no-one to eagerly await his arrival and company.
Voices drifting up the stairwell broke his thoughts and Julian stirred at the sound, shifting slightly to turn his head toward the door to the dorm in anticipation, though the voices passed by. It was growing late - and mercifully neither of his mud-blood dormmates had come up to the room to share the space... Better to leave now before they settled in for the night and perhaps queried his leave. Julian pulled himself off the window frame, sauntering over to his bed and drawing the curtain. If they did come in, certainly they would assume he was already asleep.
Julian had completed this routine many a time since his arrival at Hogwarts and he suffered from an almost constant state of insomnia - and had found no reprieve as of yet from the plagues of nightmares that seemed to haunt him whenever he finally collapsed from exhaustion. To distract himself from the tiredness he had taken to wandering the castle after hours - stealthily uncovering the many places that were left rather unguarded. The Astronomy Tower had been one such place - with its large, open dome that allowed one to search the stars, the Room of Requirement had too, provided a place of solitude for him to rest. Thinking on this particular spot, Julian moved silently from his dorm-room, steps quiet as he moved down to the common room, eyes moving to the few students that still lingered as he walked. It was not quite curfew, so he should be able to slip out of the common-room without drawing attention - not that anyone would dare stop him, getting in his way was certainly not a wise move--
--quiet sobs broke his concentration on escape, and Julian stopped mid-stride behind the rather handsome, bottle-green lounge, turning to see the silhouette of a girl seated by the roaring fire, crumpled there pitifully, her dirty blonde hair and profile rather familiar -- Abott. As he watched her, temporarily stunned at the fact that a Slytherin had less dignity than to publicly blubber, she tore a page rather fiercely from a book, scrunching it up with such savagery before throwing it into the flames. He tsked quietly, cautiously intrigued by the show of pathetic ritual destruction, "I would ask you why you are snivelling-" he began, rounding the lounge and, with a small sigh, seating himself in the dead centre - directly across from her spot on the dungeon floor, "-but I do not care. I do, however, very much consider the torching of literature an unnecessary offence." Expression pulled into its usual frown, Julian crossed a leg over the other comfortably, decidedly abandoning his plans to spend his night alone outside the Slytherin dungeon. "You realise your woeful appearance reflects upon the House? I do hope you utilized the wroth in which you tear those pages against your enemies prior to collapsing there." He tilted his head back slightly, watching the flames dance on her face, the heat of which he could feel, even seated several feet away.
Post by SOFIA ABOTT on Jun 25, 2024 8:34:09 GMT -5
She should have heard the footsteps as they approached but she'd been far too busy wallowing in her own self pity and misery to care to listen. So when a voice interrupted her latest page burning, her head whipped around to eye the owner of it. Julian. Mortifying. But it could have been worse. It could have been someone who would try and make her feel better. That wasn't what she wanted or needed. "It's hardly literature. It's unimportant but I'm glad to have offended someone tonight." she said and made a show of tearing another page just to spite him and throw it into the flames.
His next words though, caused a pause in her motions because, embarrassingly so, he was right. It was pathetic and she would openly admit it. She had allowed her emotions to overcome her intelligence and that just upset her further - trust Julian to be the one to make it better and worse all at the same time. "No." she said simply. "Its not as easy as that, is it?" and it wasn't -- as much as she had considered all possible scenarios, the consequences of her most desired ones had seemed unworthy of the effort. Even if the ones in which she was enacting revenge seemed to be the one that made her feel the most like herself. "And so, burning these pages is pretty much all I have in my arsenal right now." she continued, though even to her own ears it sounded ridiculous. "What are you even doing awake right now?" she deflected quickly, noting his gaze on her. She felt the need to hide from it, or to drown in it. She wasn't sure.
Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on Jun 26, 2024 8:25:16 GMT -5
"It's hardly literature." Abott excused the continued ruination of the 'unimportant' book in her lap, speaking on being glad to have caused his offence - dramatically tearing another page from its spine and tossing it into the fire. Julian's lips pulled into a slight smirk at the sight - a performance all for him, "and what, pray tell, has this very unimportant opus done to you personally?" He had half a mind to summon the book straight from her lap, though held his tongue and his curiosity at bay - for now. He continued to watch the tears rolling down her cheeks, crystallizing to salt quickly so close to the flames.
She seemed to hesitate in her destruction as he spoke, wishing verbally that she had, at least, brought her anger down upon whomever had caused her to be in such a state. She answered negatively, to which Julian exhaled, "a pity." She would have been quite the sight had she directed her anger at an unexpectant foe. Julian could sympathize with little emotional range, limited to whatever he had been exposed to and felt himself (oftentimes even those emotions were confusing to him) - but he was, at least, aware of the few that might have warranted such a reaction from Sofia: bitterness, regret, embarrassment...Which one of those it could possibly be - he could not know. Abott continued then, informing him that burning the pages was all she could do in that moment, "crying is certainly also in your arsenal, though I would question its effectiveness - especially when weighed against the detriment of public opinion." To be in the Slytherin common room, angry crying, was not a very common sight. Perhaps its rarity was what had drawn Julian over - for no-one had ever really cried frustrated tears in front of him before. It was slightly discomforting, but enthralling to watch.
A question was snapped in his direction then, and Julian mused at her defensive tone, "are you trying to send me to bed?" His eyes sparked provocatively as he pulled himself forward from his lounging, now leaning instead on his knees - poised and tensed to move, tone teasing. He could have admitted to his planned departure from the space, though perhaps it was unwise to mention he often left the common room with no prospect of returning until early morning... For although he doubted she would much care for the information - or really care about his plans at all - he would rather not risk it being common knowledge. "Sleep is boring," he then excused himself from the idea of heading upstairs, "and you are not." He paused momentarily, frowning a little at the way his words had sounded. It would not do to have her misunderstand his intention, or believe he was complimenting her. "--currently. The decision is easy."
Post by SOFIA ABOTT on Jun 26, 2024 9:03:04 GMT -5
What had it done to her? It was a good enough question, one that anyone else might not have taken so literally but the truth was, the journal had given her a safe space, somewhere to hope frivolously, it had fooled her into a false sense of security about her feelings - journals were dangerous things. “It’s dangerous,” she told him as much but knew he wasn’t looking for a complex answer.
“I didn’t intend for anyone to see my tears. They’re not for anyone else.” she said, “But you’ve seen them now, haven’t you?” it was rhetorical, she didn’t need an answer - he had seen them, intruded on her proof that she could cry at all.
Her brow quirked at his next words but she said nothing for a long moment as he moved, his position changing and she thought for a moment that he may actually retreat and leave her alone, she studied his face for the truth of it, for his decision and something twisted in her gut - was it anticipation? Perhaps. His next words had her letting out a breath she hadn't realised she’d been holding but it came with a laugh. The sound bubbled from inside her chest and spilt out with the exhale, “Thank you.” she said. It took her off guard, the sudden reality shock that he didn’t care, that she was just a form of entertainment to him and, it... It was so refreshing. So exhilarating - that her reaction to it came unbidden.
Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on Jun 29, 2024 22:00:02 GMT -5
"Its dangerous," Abott revealed to him as though it were some secret. Julian's eyes dropped to the still-open book in her lap, several tears visible as she had clearly been slumped there, ripping page after page for some time now. He could clearly see what appeared to be cursive on the pages. So it was not an academic book - as he had first assumed. His gaze returned to her tear-stricken face, "dangerous?," he repeated in an almost hum, the word rolling off his tongue as though lovingly. He knew of one other Slytherin student who wrote their thoughts and observations down in a journal: Himura. He had never understood the act of writing one's deepest thoughts and desires on paper. It only made for the risk of another discovering it. "Sounds more important than you seem to want to disclose." He was taunting her - his interests in her distress outweighing his desire to leave.
As she mentioned that she hadn't intended anyone to see her tears, Julian cocked an eyebrow, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the common room behind him. It was almost empty now, most students had retired to bed. "I see... Fantastic choice of lamenting location, then...Very private." he remarked, tone clearly condescending. If she hadn't intended anyone to witness her crying - she should have done so somewhere else. She then remarked that he had seen them now, to which he sighed, "I suppose I have. Shall we share our vulnerabilities together now? Perhaps we can cry together over our misfortunes." His eyes were flashing as he spoke in dark sarcasm, the reflection of the fire creating shadows in the hollows of his cheeks.
She laughed then as he mentioned that she was not boring him, making his decision to stay rather easy, her laughter ringing out within the confines of the space, surprising him. He had not meant to make her laugh with his words, which caused him to hesitate slightly in his reaction, thrown by the joyous sound. It was sort of nice, but he refused to allow any warmth in his gaze.
"Thank-you," were her next words to him, tears beginning to dry. Julian's eyebrows immediately pulled inward into a frown, confusion apparent. It was a rare thing - to be thanked. "For what?" He half-demanded, wanting to know exactly where he had gone wrong. At what point had he been misunderstood? Had he appeared far too eager? Was he somehow bleeding helpful words?
Post by SOFIA ABOTT on Jun 30, 2024 5:34:55 GMT -5
"Dangerous." She repeated, perhaps not to anyone else but almost centrainly to her and she closed it then, when she saw his eyes wander ofer the pages and tighent her fingers into the bound leather. "If I wanted to disclose it. It wouldn't be in this book."
"I suppose I have. Shall we share our vulnerabilities together now? Perhaps we can cry together over our misfortunes.". She didn't like the idea of Mulciber crying. Though she couldn't pinpoint why - something about it just felt inherently wrong. "I don't want you to cry." She said simply but offered him no furher explanation. She had none to give him. It was a complicated notion.
As he frowned, her own smile widened and she studied the crease of his brow, she wanted to reach out and touch it and see if it would remain but she didn't, had no need to. "For nothing." she said and then held a hand up, "Don't misunderstand me, Mulciber. I just mean, it's nice for someone to not care in the right way for once." she explained. "But it's not about you or what you did - My thanks is very selfish, actually."
Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on Jul 4, 2024 22:12:36 GMT -5
He did not miss the tension in her body as he eyed the journal, her fingers grasping at the leather tightly. His curiosity was peaked by her reaction, coupled with the closing of the book, away from prying eyes. Such a tease. He was unused to knowledge being out of his grasp - though he supposed it was unlikely that whatever she had hidden in that journal could be considered knowledge. Likely something he could use against her later, but nothing of true worth. Julian was not a gossip, nor was he privy to much conversation around social interactions between others, and therefore did not waste his time trying to understand teenage relationships. He had attempted once - with Hilfiger - to question the boys crush on Lottie - but that had proved quite unfruitful. Levi had not been able to provide him with any more insight than that she was a female.
"If I wanted to disclose it. It wouldn't be in this book." Julian's eyes moved back to her tear-marred face, her cheeks rather pink from the heat of the flames before her. "Nothing will be in that book much longer if you continue to burn it." He didn't know why she didn't just toss the whole thing in and be done with it. Perhaps there was liberation in drawing out the cleansing by fire page-by-page. "Why are you still clutching the book?" He questioned her, deciding to ask as her fingers wound around it, "I thought it was unimportant, or would you still prefer to hold onto the rest, for reminiscing sake?"
As he mocked her, speaking of crying together over their shared misfortunes, Abott paused briefly, likely upset over his teasing. But then:
"I don't want you to cry."
Julian blinked at her, wondering what on Merlin's Earth made her believe he was serious. Was inhalation of burning ink and parchment muddling her brain? Momentarily shocked into silence, he shook himself off, retreating a little back to the green-leather couch. "I was not going to cry," he assured her, though he wasn't sure why he was assuring her of anything, "you have done that enough for the two of us." He wasn't sure if he was glad she had seemingly stopped blabbering, or whether he preferred watching her express emotion. As he himself found it rather difficult - it was entirely consuming observing another.
After frowning at her, he watched her smile grow larger as though his confusion was amusing. Her answer only deepened his confusion, before she held a hand up to him. He listened intently, desiring only to bury any further prospects of being thanked, hearing Sofia mention that it was nice to have him not care. Julian stared at her a long moment, trying to process this new information. She wanted him to not care? Well, that just made him want to care - though he wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. "Selfish I can understand," he uttered, finally: something he could relate to, "and I am relieved to hear your thanks had nothing to do with me." Though her being in his debt might have also been a pleasant enough experience in itself. Alas, this would do.
Sofia's jaw clenched as it was pointed out that she was still clutching the book and she set it down on the floor in front of her and ran her fingers over the leather cover for a moment. "The book itself is important, the pages are not." she explained, "The pages can burn but the book represents all the things I cannot say aloud." though she had no idea why she was telling him any of this. He didn't care. And maybe that was exactly why. She didn't need him to care, she didn't need him in the way she'd needed Don and that was an important thing in and of itself. It made talking to him easier.
"I was not going to cry,"
Good, she thought. She wouldn't know how to approach that. Would she pat his back awkwardly? Would she try to make him feel better or would she mock him for already mocking her? Part of her believed it would have been all of the above. "I know you werent." she admitted and wiped at her face, trying to erase the evidence that she had cried at all. "I was just less inclined to lie about my preference of seeing you cry."
She inched closer, just slightly, still battling over her urge to run her fingertips over the crease in his brow - she caught herself though and settled back onto her knees. "I like that you don't care. You didn't come in here and expect me to be.. anything. Happy or even.. kind. You're rude. And patronising." she smiled further, an odd thing given the context. "You're so sullen and mean that It doesn't feel like I'm ruining anything. There's nothing to ruin." she exhaled but it was the truth, she felt as if she were constantly trying to get Don to notice her, to want him to like her in the same way that she adored him, toeing the line of trying to be better for him, to be something he'd treasure, none of it had mattered in the end. "You're so.. unsoft, not like him." she chewed at the inside of her cheek for a moment. "So, your relief is well founded."
Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on Jul 10, 2024 19:36:24 GMT -5
Julian watched her from his perch upon the leather sofa as she placed the book on the carpeted floor by the fire, stroking it like one would stroke the hair of a loved one. He was itching to swipe the book, that temptation had never quite evaporated - but he was doing a fine job of quelling any action toward it. To take the book would likely mean a confrontation (not that Julian was opposed to such with Abbot, it might have even been rather enjoyable), and he wasn't entirely sure the pay-off would be worth it. By the sounds of it, her book was more of a journal than anything academic, and likely contained all the drivel one could expect from a fourteen year old girl. It was very unlikely he would even be able to make sense of it.
Sofia then spoke, telling him that the book represented all the things she could not say aloud. Julian sighed, tilting his head back against the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling. Women were oft confusing. He much preferred straight-shooters like Thorne - who did not bother with unnecessary emotions or words which made spending time with them much less taxing. "Cannot say aloud, or are too weak to say aloud?" He questioned her, knowing the common room was now void of any more lingering students. Only the crackling fire made any sound, apart from the both of them, its flames licking the mantle incessantly. He stared at the intricate detailing of the ceiling high above, the fire casting long shadows across it, "I would think you would have more backbone, being of this house, to speak your mind rather than complain to pages. Perhaps what ever it is you are wasting time crying about could have been solved had you spoken up." Never one to mince words, Julian closed his eyes momentarily, his body still slightly tensed being in such close proximity to someone he was not so familiar with, but otherwise unthreatened.
He heard her move, his eyes snapping open and head lifting off the back of the lounge to eye her, eyebrows heavily furrowed as he wondered at her movement toward him. She had settled back on her knees, however, seemingly wondering the same thing as he.
"I like that you don't care." She informed him then, explaining that he had not expected anything of her emotionally. "Expectations are so often met with disappointment," he remarked in a hiss, thus he rarely expected anything of anyone. His frown deepened however as she mentioned that he was rude and patronising - which was entirely his objective to continue to be, but her appreciation of that fact was new. Usually people used his rigidity as fuel to fan the flames of an argument - but here Sofia was appreciating it with a smile nonetheless.
"...There's nothing to ruin." He wasn't sure why that was cutting - only that it was, in some strange way. Was he really so hollow that there was nothing inside to devastate any longer? Julian considered her words a moment, silently, as his eyes remained trained on her, the remnants of her tears now wiped away. He was glad she was no longer snivelling - it had made him quite uncomfortable. "No," he agreed quietly, finally, though his tone was rather hardened, "I suppose there isn't." She then spoke on him being unsoft, not like him. Julian's eyes flashed at that, curiosity sparking once more, "ah," he tutted to himself, "therein lies the truth." So she had been rioting over some boy. Julian had watched his peers begin to fold to hormones, and take an avid interest in their counterparts. Even Levi had begun to question him over potential interests, though he had been less than forthcoming in that regard. Julian preferred not to partake. "You would not suit soft," he told her then, dismissively, "you are far too interesting for soft."
Post by SOFIA ABOTT on Jul 11, 2024 4:13:30 GMT -5
"I do speak my mind where it matters. Some things are better left unsaid, I'm sure even you could agree to that." She said, "There are some situations where having backbone would be a weakness. I for one don't enjoy giving anyone ammunition." It was why, even though she thought she'd made it quite clear, she'd never told Don aloud how she'd felt. It would have been ammo against her should he decide he hated her after all.
When his eyes reopened she was glad that she had returned to her previous position, she wasn't caught mid-wavering in her decisions.
"Expectations are so often met with disappointment." She couldn't disagree with it. It was the truth, it was often better to not expect anything at all and then disappointment was less likely but what an awful way to live. And then he was frowning again and it made the tips of her fingers tickle with need. "I would not suit soft," she repeated. It could have been an agreement or a question, she wasn't sure. She was far too focused on that crease that seemed to permanently inhabit his brow.
And then she was moving. Not standing, no - she had a feeling if she stood she would cause him to balk and so she approached slowly, inching forward on her knees until she was kneeling between his at the foot of the chair. "I'm going to touch you now," she warned him. Julian Mulciber didn't exactly have an aura that screamed touch me and so she thought it best to warn him, but she didn't wait long after saying it before her hand moved to his cheek, palm inward against it as she thumbed over the crease in his brow, gentle, soft, trying to encourage the skin to smooth. "You'll end up leaving Hogwarts with a permanent wrinkle."
Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on Jul 11, 2024 23:12:26 GMT -5
He definitely could agree to her statement that some things were better left unsaid; in fact, it was something that Julian adhered to quite commonly. He was usually of such little words. Julian listened as she then spoke of situations where having a backbone could be seen as a weakness - the concept of which he wasn't so certain he could agree to, "I would not consider it weak to defend oneself and neither to speak one's mind - things cannot be used as ammunition if you do not allow them to." To own one's words unapologetically meant that another could not utilize them as fuel for another fire. Julian figured even if words were cruelly spoken - they were worth more said. Transparency was more like to command respect from him than words whispered in corners.
As he told Sofia she would not suit someone soft and fragile, she repeated the words back at him, though he was uncertain whether or not she was querying him on the remark or swallowing the words. Her eyes remained transfixed on him, however, which only caused a ripple of unease to shoot through him. "You would not," he said again, more to distract her from staring at him than anything else, but they seemed to have the opposite effect - Abott began scooting over on her knees toward him.
He did not move, though his attention to her every motion increased tenfold, tension flooding through his entire being. He did not appreciate being approached, yet something about the slowness in which she did so softened his reaction. She did not seem to threaten him harm, only seating herself there, between his knees, eyes focused up at him. He considered lifting a boot to her chest, to mediate their distance with physical interference, but she spoke then, warning him of impending touch.
He glared at her as she raised a hand toward him, a rush of distrust and discomfort flooding through him - but her touch was as gentle as a soft breeze, hand on his cheek as her thumb went to his forehead, brushing the space between his eyebrows.
"You'll end up leaving Hogwarts with a permanent wrinkle."
His body tensed at her words like a strained rubber-band, eyes fiery as a hand snapped up to grab her offending wrist, locking his fingers around the soft skin, "touch me again, Abott, and I will curse you." His wand was already held at her neck with his opposing hand, its tip pressed into the submental space below her jaw. It was a reflex, honed for when he felt threatened - and came as naturally as breathing for him. His only restraint was warning her against a repeated action, rather than immediately casting. He was confused at her actions: Why had she touched him so gently? Why did she care if his forehead wrinkled? Why had she approached him at all? He had questions and each one was more frustrating than the next.
Post by SOFIA ABOTT on Jul 12, 2024 5:41:23 GMT -5
"Perhaps," she said, and she knew he would die on that hill. That were was little point in arguing against his views on words and their ammunition, and Sofia firmly believed in picking your battles and this was one she had neither focus nor energy for.
What she did have energy for, however, was fighting her point about the damn wrinkle. "I wasn't finished yet," she said, slow and firm, each word emphasized as her wrist was all but entrapped. For anyone else, the tip of a wand under the jaw might have been threatening as she assumed Julian intended when his words followed, but for Sofia, it was exhilarating. "Is that a promise, Mulciber?" she asked, not even attempting in the slightest to get away, instead she tipped her head higher for him. "Because I plan to touch you again." There was little point in lying about it, his brow would forever drive her to distraction.
Post by JULIAN MULCIBER on Jul 14, 2024 21:31:54 GMT -5
"Perhaps," it was a non-answer as far as he was concerned, Sofia placated - it seemed - from arguing with him any further on the subject which was all fine with him, especially as she seemed distracted. Distracted by a boy as she had revealed, and one that apparently had her so worked up she had been burning pages of her journal by the common room fire. He would not pretend to sympathize with her woes, and nor would he pretend to understand them.
One hand a vice-grip around her wrist, the other ensuring her head was tilted upward with the pressure he placed under her chin with his wand, Julian continued to glare at her for intruding upon his personal space, daring to so much as touch him. Her defiance only fuelled his fury more, and his fingers tightened around her wrist, squeezing her. "You think that matters to me?" He hissed back at her, the temptation to cast a curse almost at its crescendo - at this range it was an impossible miss and would definitely do the damage he sought for such a slight against him.
Her eyes changed then, as did her tone as she challenged him - accepting her fate. Julian's glare faltered slightly at the sight of her - she was making it easy for him, and seemed completely prepared to be hurt. He hesitated, never one to give anyone what they wanted and this certainly was no exception. She then mentioned her plan to touch him again - causing him to immediately release her with a growl, disgusted. He withdrew his wand, immediately standing and stepping over her to move toward the fire - away from Abott, staring at the flames for a moment before snapping his head to look at her, "why?" He questioned her roughly, wand hanging loosely by his side now, "what could possibly drive you to want to do so?"
Post by SOFIA ABOTT on Jul 16, 2024 8:33:17 GMT -5
"It matters to me." she said, her fingers flexing under his tight grip and it didn't matter so much to her as much as the fact she had done it, clearly did to him and that was a curious notion to her. Such a reaction to a small touch and yet - she had meant what she said. She planned to touch him again. Though those probably weren't the correct words, she had no outward plans to touch him but she knew herself well enough to know she would always want to relax the crease in his brow. As a person, Sofia was just outwardly touchy. She always had been. She would attempt to keep her hands at bay if it affected him so viscerally but it was unlikely to be a definite stop, there was no point in lying to him about it.
When he let her go and moved away, she sighed and moved to sink into the chair, hooking her legs over the arm as she watched him, her fingers idly rubbing over the skin he'd just freed, it was clear her touch had greatly offended him, though she couldn't fathom why. "Not for nefarious purposes." she felt the need to quip when he asked why. But then he wanted more clarification from her and she wasn't sure what to give him. "I don't know," she said and tipped her head back against the plush fabric of the couch, her eyes still studying his face, the way it was now lit by the fire, the shadows on the other side dancing across it. "Why is it so hard to comprehend?" she asked, "That someone might not want you to frown? Or that.. I don't know, Mulciber-- that someone might want to be gentle with you?" she shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh. "I will attempt to not touch you again if that is what you want to hear but you should know, that if you're planning on continuing to make me feel better with insults, I just might, we can always duel it out." she said and then folded her arms across her chest.
