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Old 09-13-2021, 03:23 PM   #16 (permalink)
Felixir


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Hogwarts RPG Name:
Abraham Orlando Botros-Giordano
Gryffindor
Fourth Year

Hogwarts RPG Name:
Ivor Balfour Spurling Stemp
Slytherin
First Year

Hogwarts RPG Name:
Alexei Dragomirov Petrov
Slytherin
Sixth Year

Hogwarts RPG Name:
TBC
Slytherin

Hogwarts RPG Name:
August Arthur Orpington
Ravenclaw
Second Year
x12 x12
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Lovely™ | Captain Hurted | Ariana's Bane | Resident Antagonist | Unparalleled Delight

No dice. Nem had hit a significant roadblock. They were quiet for so long, and with such an unchanged expression, that they could easily have been ignoring the professor or perhaps hadn't processed her words at all. They ought to be able to answer it, it wasn't some big unspeakable thing - though some of the details were better left out - and it wasn't complicated either, in spite of the fact that the evidence now suggested otherwise.

After a minute or two, they had strayed far from the original thought, until the question itself was lost as well. They let it go, and held onto the rest.

Nem was sure, at first, that Flamsteed's answer would mean nothing to them, at least until she mentioned possessiveness. Ownership was something they understood, ownership and control and putting faith and trust in no one but their own self. "Is that also why you became a teacher." Teaching, shaping, controlling, enticing growth in whatever chosen direction. Schools were hubs of indoctrination in ways that no one but Nem seemed able to see, perhaps because, by the time most children were old enough to understand the concept, the socialisation (read: brainwashing) had already taken hold of all but those immune to it. It was possible the professors were still under its effects too, and why Flamsteed thought of it as care. Or maybe she could see it, and this was all just an act. They could understand that too.

As they walked past a suit of armour, Nem's eyes were briefly drawn to the alcove behind it, and with a suddenness that would have sent them reeling had it taken physical form, their earlier train of thought returned to them. "I live with my brother now," they said, spinning the metal matchsticks on their fingertips. "Half-brother, but I was alone, so I just ... Everything felt empty. I killed time." It was only a fragment of the truth, itself split into bits and pieces with jagged edges, but true all the same. "He showed up a couple of days ago."
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