FADED PICTURES ON THE WALL ♠ private

As the girl had managed to get a few barbs of the phoenix feather to melt inside the large smoky quartz crystal, a familiar presence drew near and once more the air chilled as he entered the room. He briskly soundproofed and sealed off the room, making Inglisse release a mildly irritated sigh. “Is your idea of “chilling” freezing me in a school lab? Why the secrecy?” she asked, gazing up from her work after she spoke and turning her amber eyes towards him.

Her delicate hands put the feather and barbs down. Mister Peckings seemed to notice the presence of the frosty man and took a running leap off the counter towards him, fruitlessly flapping its dove wings. It fell short of the atranoch, however, and landed at his feet instead. It did not seem hurt or fazed by its fall and after picking itself up, gently pawed at the white-haired man’s shoes. Inglisse silently noted she would need to give it some way to sense pain simply for the fact that it would stop being reckless and coming close to actually hurt or destroy itself. She trusted Oras enough to allow the animated rosebud to do as it pleased in the room, hoping that her summoned companion would not make any attempt to harm the creature she had created.

“I’d gladly schedule a time for tea or whatever you would like if you wish to do something a little more relaxing than hover in my classrooms,” she said politely before gazing back down at the quartz and tiny bundle of feathers, preparing to return to work.

Mister Peckings was quickly distracted by the icy playground created for it, its sightless sense of direction finding the mysterious new and cold mass nearby far more entertaining than the frosty man it had just been pawing at.

Inglisse silently began to put away the remaining phoenix feathers she had out, sensing by the fact that Oras had created a playground for the rosebud and the fact that he was moving closer to be signs that this would be a long and serious discussion. She had partially guessed that from his words, but wished that was not the case, and thus acted like it.

The question, however, was something she did not expect. Upon hearing her former name on his lips, her hands stopped cleaning up her scientific supplies. Her first instinct was to lie- to put on a smile, chuckle, and asked what he meant by that. However, he was an observant one. She knew that much about him, and knew that he would not ask such a question unless he had a suspicion backed by a decent amount of hints or evidence. The other part of her had been wanting to get things to work between her and the atranoch, despite at some points in time, this included, she wished she could cut off the bridge connecting his world and her own.

Amber eyes glanced briefly at the Book of Baskerville. Of course he had learned that name from that book. Even though she had asked he not meditate on it, it was evident that he had, or at least had seen the name listed enough and managed to pay attention to it back when reading. “Why do you ask?” she asked, deciding to not straightup lie, but only really imply the possibility of truth. She wanted to know what he knew about that name before she gave away any answers. Was it out of simple curiosity? Or did he know more about her late family than she wished he, or anyone, knew?

Inglisse internally winced, knowing that he was right, but wishing she could get out of the situation. That name had not been said in many years. It had died with the rest of her family members. All she wanted now was security that Oras would not go dropping her past identity to anyone, but the sharper reply was not exactly reassuring. Then again, given his nature, he did not seem like one to go about spouting the business of others. His patronizing tone regarding her potentially lying certainly was annoying and did not make her feel any safer.

“That isn’t my name anymore. It’s Inglisse Carroll now,” she stated flatly, still staring at the Book of Baskerville, opened to a page on smokey quartz with an enchanted bookmark holding the phoenix page. Her amber eyes avoided his ice blue gaze. She now could only hope that it went without saying she did not want anyone else to know, and that he would respect that.

He pushed the book away, which made her want to reach out and grab it again for security. It was really the only security blanket she had, the only possession she truly cared about. The cold hand on her shoulder took her by surprise however, as gentler words followed. She forced herself to meet his eyes and was once again taken slightly aback by the softer expression, one she never had really seen on his face before.

She really wished she could take his option of not answering his questions any further. However, the idea of reciprocating offered a little more security. There was a part of her deep down that had wished for the opportunity to open up at least a little. The feeling was so unnatural and foreign to her; she did not even know where to begin. “There was an accident a long time ago. My entire family suffered a fate worse than death. I pretended to die with them to avoid the attention and changed my name so I could keep living how I wanted to, not under constant scrutiny and attention,” she said softly, her amber eyes trailing from his blue ones back to the Book of Baskerville. It was all she had left from her family, after all, besides the anguished voices and screams within her mind of their sealed and tortured spirits.

When he asked, she felt compelled to tell him. The soft and gentle words were hardly something that was regularly used with her. It was difficult to think about it again, the events of that tragic day. Those scenes and that imagery haunted her dreams at night. Her nightmares were loud and vivid, and though she was now good about blocking out or ignore the shrill voices that cried out within her head, she still could not permanently silence them.

However, the detailed answer to his question was not so easily given. How much was wise to let on to him? She was given an out, to refuse to answer if she wished, but he had also reassured her that he would not tell a soul. Was he really that trustworthy? What if he did tell, would anyone believe her rather ridiculous past and if so, would it affect her present life? It was a gamble, of course. “They were all killed in a tragic accident,” she began, deciding to avoid the details of what it was specifically. Sacramentum was a topic she was not fond of touching on if she did not have to. Besides, that would shed too much light on her own unwanted talent. “Then some fool came around and tried to reverse the damage. Only, that person made it worse for my family, and for themselves,” Inglisse answered softly, gaze still focused on the book, a flash of pain shading her amber eyes. She hated that memory, and she hated herself for what she had done.

The blonde’s gaze trailed back up to meet Oras’ blue eyes as he spoke. She could only detect sincerity in them, and feel herself slightly relax more as he spoke. The words were something she was somewhat familiar with, but not in a sincere context. She had heard them uttered in situations where someone was being taken advantage of, and likely had used similar to lure people into a trap. When she was being herself however, and not just out to get what she needed for the sake of magic and science, words like that had never been shaped. Surely the atranoch was not about to use her information against her; would he really have anything to gain by doing that? With all his talk on truth and lies, she wanted to believe him. In this moment, it felt so easy, but beyond that, her doubts still festered. She had high walls built for the sake of keeping people out and protecting herself.

The two hands on her shoulders was also something that felt foreign. Unless she was being attacked or was participating in a training spar, nobody had ever placed their hands on her shoulders, especially not in a gentle and reassuring manner. It felt awkward, but with his words also there, it only reinforced the reassurance. She had never really “vented” her emotions or frustrations before. Emotions were private to her, not something she easily shared. She did not even really know how or where to begin. “I… can try,” she responded as he requested the promise. How could she promise something she barely understood? She never opened up unless she felt forced to, like in this situation. It felt too weird, too unsafe. Her amber eyes glanced back over at the rosebud creature, which had curled up on the ice playground for a brief nap; she wanted something to distract her from this moment. Anything to get her mind off of the strange and foreign emotions.