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Messages - L Azuriah

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1943 / Re: See No Evil [Theodora]
« on: 12/30/2014 at 21:52 »
He felt like he was teetering back and forth on the thin edge of sleep and wakefulness, his body seeming to hum as it tried to decide whether to fall or stay upright.

"What do you have there?"

L jumped, startled out of his brief tip towards unconsciousness, and quickly half-stumbled onto his feet, hastily whirling around towards the sound of the voice as he hid Yasu behind his back. He stared, wide-eyed, at the newcomer.

The newcomer who'd probably seen Yasu.


"Ah, what? Pardon? Ah, there's- there's nothing here, I'm afraid."

He mentally noted that he still needed to learn how to lie better, unfortunately.

"Except, ah, flora and the spring. P-Pardon me, if I- ah, did you want to sit here?" He waved one of his arms towards the spot he'd just vacated, beside the spring. "It's alright with me, you can, ah, you can sit there, if you'd like."

He still wasn't completely certain whether she actually had seen Yasu, or just seen that he'd been holding something, but he supposed it must have been the former.

Oh Merlin, have mercy.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he ducked his head a bit, embarrassed at his blatant lying. Hesitantly, he brought Yasu back to his front, and hugged the white tiger to his chest again. He didn't look at the girl.

"M-My apologies, miss. But could you, ah, please, keep this a secret?"

1943 / Re: Mannequin [Oliver]
« on: 12/30/2014 at 21:40 »
" We have boxers because we wear pants, and they have petticoats for there dresses makes sense. "

L looked back up at the boy in surprise. He hadn't thought about it that way, either. He'd mostly done what he'd told the boy - thinking of the petticoat as another dress, except worn underneath the actual dress - and hadn't actually put to mind the implications of wearing a dress-like garment under the actual garment.

This boy certainly had a way with thinking about things. It was quite curious.

"W-Well, yes, I suppose you could put it that way."

" The crinoline seems limiting as far as movability.  How do they dance? "

He blinked, brows drawing together slightly in a frown.

"Ah, well... They can still dance fairly well with a crinoline on. It would be a bit heavier for them, yes, but dances with dresses that require a crinoline aren't all too, ah, strenuous. Nor do they require much movement. Like a waltz, I suppose," he shrugged. He wasn't much of an expert on dancing, or on attires for certain dances.

" That is not an option. "

L let out a shaky breath, nodding in relief. "Alright, then. Petticoats, it is."

Clearing his throat, he reached over to get a measuring tape out of his sewing kit and, still crouching, took a hesitant step towards the boy.

"I'm going to have to take your measurements, to adjust the dress to your size - just a few minor adjustments, though. I'll need to measure how much of the dress' waistline I'd have to alter, first, but you take the dress off afterwards. Would, ah, would that be alright?"

1943 / Re: Monkey Business (L)
« on: 12/30/2014 at 21:25 »
"Yes, y-yes. Sorry -"

Nervousness momentarily pushed aside, L blinked, confused, at the top of the other boy's head. He couldn't fathom why the other was apologizing.

"- for the hassle, you know. I d-didn't mean to -"

Ah. For his fear.

That made... sense. Somewhat.

Oh dear, was he, perhaps, making things worse? He clenched his fingers a bit in the other boy's shoulders, swallowing the ball of worry in his throat.

It didn't seem like he was making things worse. Though, he did seem to have given the boy another fear - or worry, rather.

"It's alright," he repeated, just as sincerely as the other first ten times or so he'd said the phrase. "It's not a hassle, please don't worry about it."

It really wasn't, though; it was less irritating, and more something of a problem he had to find a solution for, or else. And here he'd originally thought the feeling of anger was the one he especially had to look out for, in people and in dealing with people. But apparently, so was the feeling of fear.

Feelings were confusing, but he was glad to be able to unlock its mechanics, bit by bit, month by month. Somewhat.

"I'm Waldo, by the way. Just -"

It was a bit ironic, how L was giving reassurance to this frightened boy, whilst the boy was giving him reassurance for his own anxiety. L would probably have chuckled a little at the thought, had his thoughts not been preoccupied by trying to calm the other boy and get his feet back safely on ground, while trying not to get dragged down into his own pit of panic, as well.

And by the fact that he was probably going to catch the boy anyway.

His stomach seemed to swoop down in the aforementioned pit of panic, when the distance between his hands and the boy's shoulders suddenly increased. His hands immediately clamped onto the boy's shoulders again, gripping a bit too tightly perhaps, but he only vaguely noticed.

His heartbeat quickened, and he hoped the other boy wouldn't be able to somehow hear it, as that might increase his panic. It wouldn't do to have both of them panicking.

(Though, perhaps, that line had already been crossed...)

"- sorry."

Blue-grey eyes glanced over from trembling hands to the other's gaze. L loosened his grip.

"It's-" He cleared his throat, ducking his head slightly, averting his gaze. "It's alright." (It wasn't.) "Just, ah - it's Waldo, right? I-I'm L. Perhaps you, ah- you did it a bit too quickly? Ah, why don't you try putting one l-leg down first, test it out? Try touching the ground with one f-foot first? Like, ah, testing the waters, s-shall we say?"

He hoped the boy didn't notice the way his voice quavered more and more with each statement, making his sentences turn into questions. As the other boy might mistake his rising secondhand panic for uncertainty, and what if uncertainty was contagious too?

1943 / Re: Exposure [Maël]
« on: 12/30/2014 at 20:57 »
"Oui. Ce est moi."

The tension in L's shoulders seemed to dissipate at those words. That voice was definitely familiar, though slightly different. So it was the Frenchboy, after all.

And, L assumed, the other boy had sneaked out earlier and was trying to sneak back in. How curious, but L wasn't exactly one to judge; he did much the same every night, after all.

Well, nearly every night.

"Qu'est que tu fais ici, toi? Nous sommes sur le Buccaneer. Nous devons descendre."

L's shoulders tensed again. Blue-grey eyes stared, widely, at the other boy.

They were on the Buccaneer?

Oh, merde.

He flinched when he heard what seemed to be footsteps - or was that just the boat? - and had to bite his lip to stifle a squeak when someone suddenly touched him and pulled -

He half-stumbled on his feet but managed to catch himself by tiptoeing the rest of the way, and - oh, Maël had been the one to pull him over. A bright red blush flooded his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears, when he realized his and the other boy's proximity.

"Ah -"


He gulped, looking away awkwardly as an attempt to hide his flustered state, and to check whether there were any footstep-like sounds again. L nodded, stiffly.

"R-Right. Ah, do you know how to get off this boat?" he asked in French, tentatively glancing back at the boy.

1943 / Re: Spectrum [Payton]
« on: 12/30/2014 at 20:45 »
Two chocolate frogs left.

He felt like a walking cavity. Or, well, sitting, technically. But that wasn't the point.

L grimaced at the sight of the remaining sweets, one hopping off his palm to land on - and almost slip off of - his arm. He would need to vigorously brush his teeth directly after this. (But the chocolate tasted so good...)

He should probably just skip lunch again. Eating all those chocolates made his taste buds feel swollen, oversatiated. (Maybe just two more?)

No. No more. He would put these last two chocolate frogs in his pocket, and eat them tomorrow. Or, better yet, never again. Leave them there to melt in- no, probably not melt in his pocket. He should probably just give them to someone else -

(But he didn't want to give up this chocolate! There were only two more!)

Scowling at himself, L gingerly picked up the stray piece of chocolate, which had hopped up on his shoulder, and popped it in his mouth, decisively.

He'd give the other one to the first person he saw. At least, then, he could have a partially clear conscience, since he didn't eat all the chocolate frogs he had.

Someone sighed nearby, and L jumped, hitting his shoulder blades against the wall, as he turned towards the sound. He hadn't noticed someone had come by and sat near him.

"I-I'm sorry."

His hand clenched around the sweet in his palm, half-unconsciously, while his other hand reached up and fiddled with his bowtie. He swallowed.

"It's- It's alright. You just, ah, startled me, is all. I apologize as well, if I had startled you too." He blinked, remembering, and hesitantly extended his hand towards the older girl, opening his hand palm-up to reveal his last chocolate frog, the one he'd promised himself not to eat. And the one which he hoped she would take off his hands so he would fulfill that promise to himself.

"Would you like a chocolate frog?"

"Why are you out here?"

L blinked again, out of surprise this time. Then averted his eyes as his fingers' trembling seemed to worsen on his bowtie.

"Ah, well... it's... cooler here? I suppose. There's a lot of people inside, so..."

He hesitated again, and looked over. Was she a counsellor? Oh dear, what if it wasn't allowed to be outside, at the back of the messhall, at meal times?

1943 / Re: Stumble [Rin]
« on: 12/30/2014 at 20:31 »
Stiffly, he waited for the girl to move away, or apologize. Whichever came first.

He raised his chin a bit, deciding to overlook the sharp rudeness of his startled words and simply wait instead. They were both rude - him, accidentally; and her, intentionally, it seemed - but he was at least civil enough to apologize for it.

Unlike her, apparently.

"Well I'm sorry, your highness, but maybe you should try sorting out your little 'not so much as single soul within a meter of me' problem."

A bright red flush stained his cheeks, and his scowl deepened as he averted his gaze, shoulders tensing.

It was true, he needed to 'sort it out,' as she'd said. And he was working on it. Had been for months now, and it slow-going, and he still said mean or rude things, but he hadn't screamed when touched in months, so that was definitely progress.

Not that it was exactly any of the girl's business.

"Well, I'm sorry if I react differently from how you react to touch or proximity, Miss Hunter," he snarked, stiffly.

Sarcasm was still a fairly novel form of communication he'd discovered; his vocal chords seemed to form the tone awkwardly with the way he wanted to clear his throat after every time he'd tried being sarcastic.

He ignored the sensation, didn't clear his throat, and simply returned his gaze to that of the other girl's.

A startled squeak escaped him as he got poked in the chest.

He quickly slid backwards, putting as much distance between him and the girl as was polite, and, scowling again, pushed himself upright to a sitting position once more.

"Did you really have to do that, miss?"

L tensed, stilling as if he'd locked gazes with Medusa, though his eyes were wide and staring at the space above Takamura's head. Takamura, who had her arms around him, hugging him.

A scream of surprise tried to escape up his throat - but he swallowed it down, afraid she'd take it the wrong way. Because, though he wasn't all that fond of being touched in the slightest, her embrace was warm and already familiar. Somehow.

Instead, he squeaked.

Heat flooded through the tips of his ears, but he attempted to will it away (and failed).

Why was she hugging him? The first time had been an accident, and the second was because she'd needed comfort. But this time was purely intentional, it seemed, and, though she was crying, he was smart enough to realize she wasn't hugging him for comfort, like that December.

So, why was she hugging him?


“Why… are you so stupid?”

He cringed a bit, frowning. He wasn't stupid. He was quite smart, actually. Granted, he may not be knowledgeable about certain things, but so was every other human. Complete knowledge wasn't exactly attainable - as far as he knew.

However, there was something in her words, her tone, that made it seem... unoffensive. A hint of... laughter? Was she making a joke? Or was she saying it not-so-seriously? Or was she perhaps amused at his supposed stupidity?

She never failed to confuse him, apparently.

“I wanted to meet you here. I don't care that you were mean anymore. You're not. I waited for your letters every day. I didn’t lie in any of them. Except about who I was. I thought- … I thought if you knew it was me, you wouldn’t answer. So I used a pen name.”


That was... not confusing, actually.

She'd forgiven him, so she'd tried corresponding with him, sincerely. Except, because she knew he still thought she hated him, she used a pseudonym instead, to get him to reply.

The skies and trees surrounding them seemed to blur, to fade into the background, as he glanced down at the top of her head. Everything was clearer now. Except for one thing...

Why would she do that?

“I just…”

Just? Was she going to tell him the reason, the last piece of the puzzle? Tentatively, shakily, he placed his hands on her shoulders blades, as an attempt to urge her on.

“Just had to see you.”

He wanted to ask why. Why? Why do all this? Feelings were so fickle, so complicated, and he'd only started understanding the basics of it the past few months.

What feelings did she have for him to make her do all this?

A few came to mind, but there was one that especially stood out, and made his blush resurface.

He couldn't be sure if he was correct, though. He needed to be sure...

L cleared his throat, the sensation of the prolonged hug starting to overwhelm his thoughts, his senses. He carefully moved his hands up to her shoulders to gently push her away enough, and meet her eyes again.

His blush spread down the back of his neck. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Ano," he said, then shook his head and reverted to English. "Ah. Well. I..."

He withdrew his hands, and shakily fiddled with his bowtie, not noticing how lopsided it was getting. He kept his gaze on her.

"This is all... quite confusing. So, I propose we... start again?" He took a deep breath and held his hand out for her to shake.

"My name is L Azuriah. When I'm especially nervous or startled, I have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth, or say mean or rude things. I... I find you pretty and confusing."

Dear Merlin, he really hoped his blush wasn't noticeable.

"Which is- which is why I would like to, ah, get to know you better."

His outstretched hand started to tremble.

"Would you, ah..." He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and finally averted his gaze to the ground, ducking his head a bit to try and hide the bright redness of his face. He couldn't believe he was going to say this, but to clear all his confusion, it was the only solution he could think of. A bit rushed, he said,

"Would you be amenable with going with me on the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term?"

1943 / Re: Tangle [Felix]
« on: 12/29/2014 at 06:57 »
"For what?"

L looked up, blinking at the figure in confusion. "W-Well," he bit his lip, and fiddled with his bowtie as he shifted his weight from leg to leg. "Aren't you a c-counsellor?"

"Your secret's safe with me."

He frowned. That wasn't something a counsellor would say. Unless said counsellor was exempting him from breaking the rules? Which was... highly uncommon. Rare, even.

Unless the other wasn't actually a counsellor?

He blinked. That made much more sense, actually.

"Ah. You're not a counsellor." He lowered his head a bit, embarrassed. He was thankful for the darkness, as it hid the bright red blush at the tips of his ears. "M-My apologies, I thought - well. I apologize for assum-"


L flinched, and stared wide-eyed at the direction of the sound. Oh Merlin, a real counsellor was coming. Oh dear Merlin, what should he do? If he went back inside, there was a higher probability that he wouldn't be caught. However, there was also a higher probability he would fall asleep, and that was exactly what he was trying to avoid by his, ah, curfew-breaking. If he left, though, there was a higher probability he would actually be caught.

"Come on."

He jumped again at the sound of the other's voice, and stared as the shadow of the other boy - they sounded like a boy, anyway - moved away from the doorway. Hesitantly, L peeked around to try and follow the other as he moved down the hallway.

Come where?

"If we stay here, we'll get caught for sure."

The other boy had a point. L could just complete his objective, and dodge the counsellors, like that time he'd ended up on the HHS Buccaneer past curfew. That had been a frightening experience. However, if he went back inside, he might just run out anyway, and disturb the other campers as well.

L took a deep breath, and decided on the lesser of two evils.

He carefully tiptoed out the room and closed the door behind him - as soundlessly as he could - and then lightly stepped towards where he estimated the other boy was at - only to bump into something solid, which was probably the other boy himself.

"Ah! P-Pardon me," he whispered, sheepishly.

1943 / Re: Mannequin [Oliver]
« on: 12/29/2014 at 06:25 »
" On hand? "

"W-Well, yes," he said, nodding. "I don't have any at the moment." Then he realized the implications of his words, and hid his face in his hands. "Oh Merlin, I meant - I don't, ah, have any in my possession. Right now, or then, or... ever. I'm not planning on it at all."

Gods, he was discussing the possibility of wearing female underthings with a boy at least three years younger than him! Actually, the fact that he was discussing such a topic at all was already embarrassing enough, the sex and age of his conversation partner, as it were, notwithstanding.

" What is a petticoat? "

L took his hands away from his face enough to glance at the boy again, and blinked, his blush fading somewhat.

"O-Oh, well. It's like an u-undergarment," the redness came back in his cheeks, but he soldiered on, "since you wear it under the dress, except it also looks like a dress or a skirt, so, ah, it's easier to think it's... not an - an undergarment."

He cleared his throat, fingers rubbing the fabric of his bowtie as he attempted to will his blush away.

"And it also makes the skirt poof out, so it's easier to hide the fact that you're not wearing, ah, boxers. They're usually worn over a crinoline - it's like a metal skirt - to aid the poofing, but it's rather uncomfortable, so I don't usually - that is," he hastily corrected himself; the other boy didn't know that he had actually worn dresses before, after all, "I don't have one. So I could lend you a few petticoats, in place of the crinoline."

He paused, hesitating, and averted his glance down towards the skirt of the dress the other boy was wearing, and dear gods, that hemline really wasn't straight!

"If- If you'd prefer that alternative, that is."

He didn't want to voice the... other alternative. It was much too embarrassing, even for him.

He didn't want to look at her. Looking and seeing would once again reiterate the fact that she'd been deceiving him, all this time. Got him right where he was soft and made him expose his vulnerabilities.

In the relative silence around them, he heard a tiny sound come from her direction, and, against his better judgment, he looked up at her. His eyes widened in horror.

She was crying.

His breath seemed to stop short midway up his throat, and he choked, hands coming up to fiddle with his bowtie as his eyes kept their gaze on her face, her cheeks, her hair, her tears -

Dear Merlin, it was like he'd gone back to that one day in December, when they'd had a brief repose. When they'd sat on a bench, side by side, her head on his shoulder, and her hair against his cheek, as he read her Greek mythology in Japanese.

Except this time, his chest didn't feel like it would bruise from how much his heart seem to beat against his ribcage.

No. This time, his chest felt like something was sitting on it, and at the same time squeezing his lungs inside a fist. He felt like he couldn't intake as much air as the human body needed. He felt like he was drowning, and his hand was reaching for the surface. But all it could feel was the cold.

Was this what heartbreak felt like? Gods, he hated it.


Hearing her speak in her native tongue made him wince. He looked away, eyes darting about the forest - anywhere but her. He'd made the mistake of looking at her, but he wouldn't do that again. Especially now that she was crying.

(He still remembered the warmth and softness of her skin when he'd wiped her tear away.)

“Because it wasn’t a lie.”

He looked at her again. (He mentally cursed himself for that.)

It wasn't... a lie? What did that mean?

All her letters - they weren't lies?

Obviously, their correspondence wasn't a lie. He had kept all her letters; he had solid proof it was all real.

Then, what did she mean? Her deception wasn't a lie? Her lies weren't lies?

He didn't understand. What was she trying to say?

L took a deep breath, and tugged at his hair, averting his eyes. Her words confused him, so he spoke the only words he knew for a fact were clear-cut.

"But... you hate me."

It was the only thing he could understand. It was the only clear, solid fact about their relationship.

(He called her (he winced at the memory) 'mudblood.' And insulted her cat. And called her 'mudblood' again. And -)

In summation, he said some mean things to her. Why wouldn't she hate him? He deserved her bullying, really. Maybe not that snowball, that one time. He hadn't done anything to her that day - but then again, he probably had it coming. So, in the end, the snowball was warranted.

"I called you something unforgivable. More than once! I was mean to you! Granted, I didn't really mean to be; it just - happened. But I was still mean to you!"

As he spoke, he'd straightened up, and kept tugging at his hair, tugging at his bowtie, tugging at his sweater sleeves - trying to find answers on his person. He stopped when he realized he was pacing in front of the boulder, and realized, as well, that he was looking at the answers in the wrong place. For they weren't in his memories and his experiences - that was only half. The other half, the missing piece, was her.

L glanced back at her, and stepped forward so they were only an arm's length apart. He vaguely registered that he'd definitely gotten taller the past few months, years. He had to look down to gaze at her face now. Much like two Decembers ago.

"I don't understand," he said, his grey-blue eyes wide and sad and confused and pleading.

"What part of - everything, which part wasn't a lie?"

1943 / Re: Stumble [Rin]
« on: 12/28/2014 at 08:09 »
"Talking is communication by spoken words. It doesn't matter how loud I was speaking, it was still a talk, thank you very much."

L Azuriah did not roll his eyes, for that was immature. However, just this once, he rolled his eyes. It seemed a fitting response for the girl's words, no matter how childish it was. To save face, and make himself seem more mature, he backed up his eye-roll with a refined speech.

"I know what it means, miss. However, if you properly checked your dictionary, the volume does, in fact, matter. For if the volume of your speech was low, it would then fall in the spectrum of a 'whisper,' and if the volume of your speech was high, it would then fall under a 'yell' or, if your words were unintelligible, a 'scream.'"

He paused for a moment, wondering if he should end with 'so there,' but decided that was childish, as well.

"So, no, miss, what you had done wasn't 'talking.'"

He mentally added, So there.

"Oh grow up. I've seen people hit by bludgers react better than you are now!"

"Well, pardon me for not having been hit by a Bludger before, for I can't compare how I'd react then to how I reacted a moment ago. Besides, everyone reacts quite differently to pain. And touch."

Honestly, he'd thought he was socially inept, and so he'd tried observing people and (failing in) performing social experiments. He didn't realize there was someone who wasn't as good at such things, like he was. In fact, if he dared say so himself, he seemed to be more knowledgeable about it.

Perhaps, it was simply because the girl was angry? Anger, he'd found, clouds the mind from logical thought.

The guilt came back, and his shoulders slumped a bit as he looked away, and fiddled with his bowtie again.

"I am sorry, though, for causing you trouble. Did you want to use your bed, perha- Eek!" L flinched when the girl leaned over him to grab something, and he quickly moved back, only to fall backwards onto his elbows, wincing.

Dear Merlin, this girl was quite rude, scaring people (or him, at least) like that!

"Oi! You could have at least excused yourself!" he scolded, scowling.

1943 / Re: Exposure [Maël]
« on: 12/28/2014 at 07:03 »
Verdammt! There was someone there!

Quickly, L almost tripped over his own feet when he turned around and hid, but thankfully, he managed to catch himself against the wall. He breathed a sigh of relief, visibly sagging.

He tilted his head, ears straining to pick up a sign that whoever it was had already moved on and gone somewhere else. If the fading sound of footsteps was any indication, it seemed they have.

He sighed, relief relaxing the tense line of his shoulders. Slowly, he stepped towards the corner again, and took another peek, just in case -

"L? I-is that you?"

He froze, and stared, wide-eyed, at the boy. Verdammt, he wasn't a counsellor, was he? He seemed somewhat familiar. L frowned, squinting at the slightly blurry figure, trying to place the voice, the face, the hair -

He blinked. Oh.

"Monsieur Maël! Est-ce vous?1"

The flowers in his hair and the less apparent French accent aside, L was 80% certain this was the boy he'd conversed in French with two summers ago, whilst the other laid in bed inside the Infirmary.

(He realized later that he'd also seen the boy around the HHS Privateer, seeing as they were cabinmates.)

Looking around, he swallowed and decided to trust that 80%.

"Qu'est que tu fais ici, toi?2"

1Is that you?
2What are you doing here?

1943 / Re: Tangle [Felix]
« on: 12/27/2014 at 15:01 »
It was a counsellor.

Who else would be up at this time of night, stalking the shadows of the halls, waiting to catch students like him?

Getting was just what he needed. Brilliant.

He gulped, hand tightening its hold on his mouth, trying to stop another terrified squeak from escaping.

"Shhhh. Don't. Make a sound."

L was quite certain he was frozen in place. He felt like his whole body was trembling, though, but he locked his muscles in an attempt to stop it. It didn't exactly work, but at least he tried.

He kept silent as the shadowy figure in the doorway seemed to look around - their head seemed to move in such a fashion. They were probably looking for a fellow counsellor to witness his getting caught. Or to guide them through the darkness.

"You're trying to sneak out?"

L's shoulders tensed. He tried taking his hand away from his mouth, but only managed to move it enough to let his mouth move. His hand was still plastered against his cheek. But it's not like the other could see that, right? So, it was a trivial matter.

"N-No!" he hissed in an offended whisper. (He wouldn't want to disturb his cabinmates, nor would he want them to witness his downfall into apparent rebellion.) "I wasn't -"

Technically, he wasn't. He wasn't, because he was simply going out for a walk. Outside the cabins. At night. After curfew.

He deflated, cringing. "Yes. Yes, I was," he mumbled, sheepishly, ducking his head in shame.

He'd done it. He'd become a rebel. A rule-breaker. This was why he was disowned, in the first place. (Not that turning his hair blond had been an actual rule, but he digressed.)

"I apologize," he said. Though, apologizing was a futile effort in the face of his deed. It wasn't exactly his first time sneaking out, but it was his first time getting caught doing it, and that was already unforgivable.

Either he'd have to get better at sneaking, or he'd have to stop sneaking altogether. He was certain it would be the former, though, but the counsellor didn't have to know that...

1943 / Re: Mannequin [Oliver]
« on: 12/27/2014 at 14:44 »
" Just because I can't think of an opportunity there don't let that deter you. "

L glanced up at the boy again, blinking. "A-Ah, I wasn't -" He paused, and bit his lip. He couldn't exactly tell the other boy that he'd been reminiscing about that one time he'd actually dared to wear a dress inside the castle.

"I wasn't deterred, don't you worry," he said instead, curving the corner of his lips up enough to pass for a reassuring smile. Or so he hoped.

" Getting caught happens.  The important part is how you spin it. "

L winced.

The boy had a point there. Unfortunately, 'how he spun it' was exactly L's problem, as he had a tendency to freeze and stare with wide, guilty eyes when he got caught. Getting punished for getting caught was usually what came next, since he never got the time to come back to his senses and blurt out an excuse to avoid said punishment.

" Ok. "

L blinked. He bit his lip, hesitant. The boy didn't seem all too comfortable with the prospect of putting on the dress. Then again, any normal boy wouldn't be.

He opened his mouth, to tell the boy he didn't have to put on the dress, it was just a suggestion, but L closed it again, when the boy took the dress from his hands. The poor child really look comfortable at the prospect, and L was about to try and reassure him again that he didn't have to, but the boy was already stripping and putting the dress on.

(L barely even registered the fact that he'd witnessed someone else taking off their clothes right in front of him, and he was fairly grateful for skipping that awkward realization.)

As soon as he saw the dress on the younger boy, L tilted his head and took a step closer, crouching down to inspect it further.

This was one of his very first dresses. A dress that he'd altered himself. He recalled it had taken around half a week to complete it. He'd been younger and inexperienced, then. But now that he was older and more experienced, he frowned at his younger self's work.

Some of the stitching was too awkward, but not too apparent from this side (he was fairly sure he'd been cringing at the sight of the stitching on the other side of the fabric). There was a small area near the neck where cut of the ruffles was a bit too sloppy. The cut-off sleeves needed to be refined. The hemline wasn't as straight as it looked from afar.

The waistline needed to be adjusted, as well, seeing as he'd been quite a chubby lad back when he hadn't cared that sweets would give him cavities.

" I don't think girls wear boxers. "

"Pardon?" He glanced up at the boy, blinking dumbly as he processed the other's words, and when he did, his eyes widened, and a bright red blush dusted his cheeks.

"W-Well, no, they - well, they don't. But I don't, ah, I don't exactly have any of their, ah -" he ducked his head again to hide the way his blush burned redder, spreading to the tips of his ears, "- their - their undergarments." He cleared his throat, eyes darting about the area, but refusing to look at the boy. "On hand, that is."

He shrugged. He'd gotten along fairly well wearing his own, ah, underthings (his blush reached down to the back of his neck) underneath his dresses. Then again, those dresses usually had petticoats.

"We could, ah - I could lend you a couple of petticoats, to hide that fact, if you'd like?"

1943 / Re: Stumble [Rin]
« on: 12/27/2014 at 14:18 »
"W-well I did try to talk to you at first- but you didn't listen to me. I was simply trying another approach- and look, it worked didn't it?"

L finally looked at her, frowning and open-mouthed. A tiny, affronted scoff came out of his mouth as he turned in place (he mentally grimaced at the fact that he was sitting on the floor, but he pushed that aside, for now) and crossed his arms as well, mirroring her.

"You call your first words to me a 'talk'?" he said, dumbfounded. "You were fairly close to yelling at me, miss. That does not constitute a 'talk.'"

He huffed, sitting back when he realized their proximity once more.

"And you even called me an idiot! That was rude as well, you know," he said, matter-of-factly. He fully expected her to apologize for that too.

"You even poked me!"

His shoulders tensed at the memory. He especially expected her to apologize for that one, as well. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax, and continued.

"So, I'm afraid, Miss Hunter, that you are mistaken. You did not, in fact, 'try to talk to me first,' so how would you have expected me to listen to you?"

He didn't even want to talk about her... 'other approach.' His eyes still burned from crying. The fall hadn't really been that painful. It wasn't her fault he'd cried.

He still expected her to apologize for pushing him, though.

1943 / Re: Stumble [Rin]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 09:34 »
"U-um...don't cry like that...i-it's creeping me out..."

Oh dear Merlin, she'd seen.

He cringed again, and obligingly tightened the fragile protective shield of his arms over his face, attempting to hide the tears.

"M-My apologies," he croaked out, swallowing another sob. Please don't hurt me anymore, I'm sorry -

He squeaked when he felt something - or someone - probably the girl - disturb the air beside him. She had probably sat down. Oh dear.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out again, curling his knees up against his chest as he pressed his forehead to his knees. "I'm sorry, please forgive me -" He paused as he almost choked on another rising sob, and swallowed it down, biting down on his lip in an attempt to keep any more from trying to escape.

"W-well you see...that's my name...and well... T-that's my bunk..."

L sniffled, and, hesitantly, slowly, lowered his arms enough to peek over his knees at the girl. He blinked back tears (and failed, as a stray one fell down his cheek) and stared at the girl. He frowned.

"Wh- I beg your pardon?" he asked, voice tiny and meek, and he cringed again when the girl opened her mouth -

"You're in the girl's dorm."

L blinked.

He glanced up at the embroidered name, then over to the blurred shape of the bed, then back at the girl again, then at the nearest article of clothing he could spot and grabbed it. He held it up in front of his face, and - oh.

This was a camisole.

(He wore dresses and stockings and, occasionally, corsets, but never the actual female undergarments.)

Heat flushed through his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. He hastily dropped the camisole back to the side and sat up, fingers shakily fiddling with his bowtie. He didn't dare look at the girl.

"P-P-Pardon me, miss, I sincerely apologize for - that," he said, wiping the tear tracks off his face. "And... earlier. Everything, basically. I am truly sorry, and I hope you can forgive me and my actions. And my words, as well."

He cleared his throat, and straightened his shoulders. He still didn't look at the girl.

"You didn't have to p-push me around like that, though, Miss Hunter -" she'd said the embroidered name was hers, didn't she? "- that was rude of you, as well."

His lower lip stuck out a bit in a childish pout, as he awaited for her own apology.

1943 / Re: Mannequin [Oliver]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 09:14 »
" Maybe during the summer.  However during the term way to few opportunities to be in Hogsmeade period to why not do something at Hogwarts. "

"Ah, well..."

L bit his lip and glanced down at the dress in his hands again. Wearing a dress inside the castle? L had already done that, actually.

There was a masquerade ball, and he hadn't wanted to go, at first, but then he'd realized it as the perfect opportunity to wear one of his dresses and not feel awkward or anxious, unlike the other times he'd been in such social events. The end result was him being discovered by the only person who'd known about his... secret, and then being helped to keep it as a secret.

It had been a relatively pleasant experience.

"It would depend, I suppose, on the situation," he conceded. "What if I got discovered?"

" I don't like the idea of places I can't get in.  Aren't you curious? "

L blinked at the boy. He hadn't really thought about it like that.

"W-Well, I suppose I am, a bit..." His fingers started to rub against the fabric of the dress again, and he swallowed. "But aren't the rooms fairly similar? The only difference would be neatness and the things they keep in their trunks, I would suppose."

Then again, there wasn't really much to think about, concerning rooms. He'd already been in his older sister's room several times, and there really wasn't much difference between their rooms. Except that she had more dresses, and her dresser had a lot more interesting things. Like make-up.

"  Plus they can get in ours so it is only fair. "

L stared at the boy, eyes widening slowly in realization.

Did this mean the boys couldn't get inside the girls' dorms? He'd never attempted to do so, and so he didn't really know. He'd assumed anyone could just come and go between dorms as they please, regardless of whether they were in the opposite sex's dorms or their own.

"I see," he said, and meant it this time.

Well, if this boy was curious about such things, L admired him for that.

He glanced at the dress again and, taking a deep breath, held it out towards the boy.

"Why don't you try this on, then? You can have it for your future endeavours in unlocking the secrets of the girls' dorms. If you'd like," he added, sheepishly.

It was one thing to talk about dressing up as a girl, and another thing to actually do it, after all.

1943 / Re: Height Matters [Ra'as]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 08:41 »
The boy nodded, confirming the fact that, yes, he had indeed just called him 'very pretty.'

L felt like his face might overheat. He wasn't sure how to handle being called such a thing. Nobody had ever really said anything about his looks. Except that one time, in early summer, when he'd attempted to Transfigurate his hair blond (and mostly succeeded, since it came out in different shades of yellow and his roots were still dark brown), and then his grandfather saw and got positively enraged and called him a 'filthy impersonating half-mudblood' and promptly kicked him out of house and name and title. (Not that he had much of a title, to begin with.)

That hadn't exactly left a good impression on his opinion of his own appearance. Though, he never would have really thought he'd be called anything as positive and complimentary as - he ducked his head again to hide how red his face was - 'very pretty.'

What did people usually say when they were designated with such a phrase?

"Yes, um... Would you rather I didn't? I just thought it might be appropriate, given your current attire."

L blinked, and looked back over at the boy, "Pardon?" slowly processing his words, before glancing down at what he was wearing. Ah, that's right; he was still in one of his newly-modified dresses. With the matching heels and stockings.

His attire was probably the reason why he was called 'very pretty.' He breathed a sigh of relief (he pushed back the small twinge of disappointment, because there was nothing more to be disappointed about; he had his dress called 'very pretty,' after all).

"W-Well, I, ah..." He cleared his throat, hesitating.

Should he correct the boy and admit that he was actually the same sex as the other? Or should he go along with the lie and pretend he was really a girl?

He stared up at the boy, eyes wide and conflicted and guilty.

(The niggling feeling of familiarity was back.)

"Well, you do have a certain androgyny about you."


"When you're dressed up like this, it's easier to mistake you for a girl. I only recognized you because we met last summer."


So the other boy had known all along, then, but had kept referring to him as a female because... he looked female? But also looked male?

L frowned, and lowered his gaze. It was all so confusing, and some of his dresses were still strewn on the floor from his nervousness earlier.

Wait, they had met last summer?

Flicking his eyes back up towards the other, his eyes widened in recognition.

"Oh, you were the boy by the river! Oh dear, are you alright now?" he fussed, biting his lip as his eyes darted over the boy's face, looking for signs of pallor or illness.

"But I meant what I said before - you are very pretty."

L stopped his search and just stared at the boy. He flinched backwards, and raised his chin.

"D-D-Don't say such things when you're only referring to the way I dress! You'll confuse people!" he scolded, huffing, and turned around and crouched down to pick his dresses off the floor. He ignored the heat at the tips of his ears.

1943 / Tangle [Felix]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 08:09 »
late august 1943
11.33 pm

L stared up into the darkness, eyes wide and alert, but drowsy with lack of sleep.

(... 54... 55...)

He kept his breathing even and slow, as if he were actually asleep and not still very much awake and counting the minutes passing by.

(... 56...)

He wasn't planning on doing anything awful, per se; he was just...

(...  57... 58... 59...)

He was just going to take a short walk around camp, till dawn, to keep himself awake. He didn't want to have another incident happen again. He'd slipped up once, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. It was only for a little while longer; just until the end of summer. He wasn't sure whether continuing it through the whole school term would be wise, though, but he was still debating that.

(... 60!)

L sighed out the breath he'd been holding, and slowly, ever so slowly, pushed his blanket off and half-dragged, half-crawled out of the bed, careful not to make a sound.

Once his feet were on the floor, his eyes darted around, trying to see whether his other cabinmates had roused from sleep. He waited another minute. Then, he half-rolled, half-stepped off his bed, and froze again. He waited another minute.

He swallowed, hoping the panicked racing of his heartbeat wasn't audible in the silence.

Taking another deep breath, he rolled over onto his stomach (grimacing at the action, seeing as he was on the floor, but sacrifices such as these had to be made if he were to stay quiet and undetected), and gently pushed himself to his feet. He took another look around the room, palms sweating.

He took a step forward, then another, and another, and another - until, finally, he was at the door. He released the breath stuck in his throat, and carefully opened the door.

He flinched when he saw a shadowy figure outside.

"A-Ah..." he squeaked, and hastily clamped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide and guilty.


1943 / Exposure [Maël]
« on: 12/26/2014 at 07:51 »
late august 1943
10.51 pm, by the cabins

L woke up with a jolt. He snorted, surprised at the sensation of suddenly waking up, and - oh gods, he'd been asleep. He'd been asleep.

He sprang upright, and flinched back when he saw something solid beside him- oh, it was a wall. Oh gods, where was he? Why did he let himself fall asleep? Why?

He took a deep breath, held it for five counts, and exhaled again. He needed to keep calm. Just keep calm. He needed to get his bearings.

L swallowed. His throat was dry, but not raw or sore. Which meant he hadn't screamed this time around. That was... good, he supposed. At least he didn't wake anyone up. His arm hurt, though. He must have hit something while he was running. He glanced down at his feet, and grimaced; they were caked with wet sand and bits of leaves. So were the hems of his pyjama pants. Brilliant.

(Then again, of course he would have forgotten to put on footwear of any kind when he was being chased by his terrors. He disliked referring to it as 'his demons,' as that implied something much more... severe. It was just a night terror. Just a nightmare that made him run like a loon, and sometimes scream and cry. He could handle it; he'd handled it (somewhat) when he was a child, so what more now that it had come back to haunt him as a teenager?)

He looked at his hands - a few scratches; he must have run through some trees. He must have hit a branch, then; perhaps that's why his arm hurt; there was even a hint of a dirt mark across his sleeve. Hesitantly, he touched his cheeks. He sighed. He could still feel the wetness of tears. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

He didn't have anything to do about that, anymore, unfortunately. What's done was done. He'd fallen asleep and another night terror had pounced.

Where had it taken him, though?

L blinked, and squinted around at his surroundings. It seemed like he hadn't gotten far, this time. He was just outside the cabins. Oh dear, what time was it? Verdammt, it must be after curfew! If a camp counsellor found him -

He cringed at the thought, and hastily pushed himself to his feet, wincing a little when the motion caused a jolt of pain through his injured arm. Legs trembling a little, he rubbed the fabric of his bowtie between his fingers, took another deep breath, then tiptoed to a corner and peeked out, eyes wide.

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