sortinghat_logs | I'm n9t calling f9r a sec9nd chance

I'm n9t calling f9r a sec9nd chance

WHO: Kankri Vantas and anyone who wants to try to calm him down
TONE: sad. Wow. Sad.
RATING: PG, maybe PG-13?
WHEN: Monday, 1/10/12
WHERE: Divination Tower
WHAT: After waking up on Saturday abruptly dead again, Kankri has been sulking and hiding in the Divination Tower since. The problem being, classes need to be held there on Monday.
STATUS: Ongoing
NOTE: He is a ghost again, although some of you may have seen him around the castle during the event as a short, young boy around 15. This means he can neither touch nor be touched, which is pretty much the source of his pique.

Since early Saturday morning, the noises from the Divination Tower have varied between frustrated screaming and shuddering, muffled sobs. The source of these has hidden from anyone who tried to find him, but come Monday and the resumption of classes as normal the noises have resumed with an even more despairing tone. What began as sulking is bordering on a full-out temper tantrum, now.

Unchecked privileges everywhere.

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Dolores had been giving the poor boy some space, part through thinking he may need it and part through being overrun with such things as people coming back from the dead, the vampire portion of the student body once again being vampires and young children needing to be counselled after being confronted with dead parents. She hadn't been numb to the sounds coming from the Divination tower, but when by Monday the noises still hadn't ceased, she made her way up to there and seated herself in the centre of the room.

Yes, she loved him. Yes, she felt a painful distress at hearing him so upset, but she knew what she had to do. She drew in a breath that she didn't really need, and spoke in a loud, firm voice.

"Kankri Menachem Vantas. You stop this racket this instant and come here."

Edited 2012-10-02 17:59 (UTC)

The noise stops with a clatter, the frustrated scream that was about to rend its way out of his throat aborting itself as a chastened whimper. He hasn't heard his full name in over twenty years, and definitely not in that tone. It squeezes his very being like a vise, twisting at where his heart once was as he felt the ache anew.

He stayed where he was, hidden from sight.

"That's much better."

Her voice was still firm as she closed her eyes for a moment and clasped her hands in front of her. She glanced around herself, a small frown drawing her eyebrows together, and spoke again.

"Come here, Kankri. Now."

He knew she could probably tell that he was still there, but still he stayed quiet for a long moment as if he could convince her that he had left.

When she spoke again, he realized it was pointless to try to fool her, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to leave her presence.

"I don't want to distress you. ...Further."

A quiet breath left her, and something very subtle in her demeanour changed - a small drop of her shoulders, the frown clearing, her tightly clasped hands loosening. When she spoke again, it was softer, without that authoritative edge.

"It's alright, sweetheart," she said, shaking her head. "I'd like to see you.. will you come out, please?"

Kankri still hesitated for a second before he made himself visible, coming out of his hiding place slowly. Seeing her hurt. It hurt because he recalled all over again how she had pulled him into a hug.

"It isn't fair."

"I know, sweetie.."

She wanted to hug him, to hold him again and tell him everything would be alright, but.. that was impossible now, wasn't it? Dolores leaned forwards, and gently patted the cushions in front of her as an invitation for him to sit.

"It isn't fair at all."

He glanced at the place where she was inviting him to sit, but then he shook his head and floated backward just slightly.

"...Was I that much of a disruption?"

"There was no way for a class to be taught with you in here, behaving like that," Dolores told him, shifting back when he did and clasping her hands in her lap again. "I volunteered to come and try to talk to you."

For a moment, she looked away, and then she sighed again. "Kankri.. I know that you're angry. I can understand, even if I can't fully empathise. It's difficult now, I know, to think of what you experienced as a gift, rather than something which was given and then stripped away, but you have had a unique opportunity to create new memories with the people who love you.. who still love you."

Kankri was half tempted to sink into the floor and disappear out of embarrassment. He had barely noticed the passage of the days, hadn't realized consciously that it was Monday.

He felt selfish. He felt chided. He felt spoiled. But he also felt cold, and angry, and helpless, and those things together made something dark in him rankle at the idea of Dolores understanding what he was going through. If he thought about it long and hard enough, he could still feel Sal's arms around him when they'd curled up in the same bed on that last night. "It wasn't fair. It only hurt them more." It only hurt him more. Just when he'd been getting used to the cold loneliness of not being able to touch, it had been given back to him and then cruelly stripped away.

Theodore wasn't sure which day was harder--Saturday or the day Kankri never woke up. Both days were hard. Both days were emotionally crippling and were just all around horrible. But maybe this one was worse. Because now Theo knew that Kankri didn't go find peace. He was still here. He would always still be here.

It wasn't easy for him to just go hunt down his friend. As soon as he'd woken up on Saturday, he felt the full weight of his guilt bearing down on him. It felt even worse than before, since he'd been without this negative feeling while Kankri was alive again. This was how he knew what'd happened. What was worse was that it was so much that he couldn't even push it aside as he usually did.

Instead he withdrew to his own quarters and occupied his time with snuggies and macabre muggle poetry. But with Monday came two things: the resumption of classes, and the resolve that he did need to find Kankri. Well, finding him was easy, considering the noise. It was just going. But he'd done it. He'd made it to the top of the divination tower, despite how unbearably heavy each step was.

"Kankri?"

Theodore was about the last person Kankri was expecting to come find him. He had never blamed Theo for what happened to him 17 years ago. It had been an accident. Nothing more. Except there was more, wasn't there? He had known going into the duel that he was going to die, and he hadn't said a word. To Theo, to Sal, to anyone.

There had been times over the last seventeen years when he wondered if it wasn't possible that he was the friend turned foe, for making Theodore the instrument of his own death.

He paused at the sound of his name and stayed silent, not sure if he was hearing things or not and unwilling to yield his hiding place just yet.

The silence was deafening, but Theo was sure that Kankri was around somewhere. He had to be. Of course, if he wasn't, he would feel foolish. But he knew he was just there--but then, how quickly could ghosts travel? Was it possible that he'd already left the tower and gone elsewhere?

Instead of dwelling on that too much, he clears his throat. He doesn't know where to turn to speak, so he just glances around as he speaks. He'd rather do that and chance looking in the direction that Kankri is rather than speaking to a brick. "I'm. I, uh. I'm sorry for what happened. This wasn't fair to you at all."

Theoretically, yes, Kankri could have actually left the tower and been long gone by the time that Theo spoke again. But like Theo was questioning whether Kankri was still there, Kankri in return was waiting for Theo to say something, waiting for another sign that it was really him before he showed himself.

When Theo finally does speak again, Kankri waits for a long minute before showing himself, silvery, transparent mop of hair slipping out of the wall. He can't bring himself to meet his friend's gaze. To be fair, the likelihood of Theo meeting his is slim to none anyway. "It wasn't fair to you, either. To Sal, or to anyone."

Really, now that he knows there Kankri is, it's all he needs to know where to not look. Making eye contact with Kankri hadn't ever been a problem. Until, you know, he died.

He could agree with that assertion, to a degree. The idea of them actually completely agreeing on something was unheard of, and it wasn't going to start now. "Perhaps, but not to the same degree as it was to you."

Well, it had been a problem in that there had always been a pretty big height difference between them. But Kankri? Avoiding Theo's gaze? It never crossed his mind before. He slips entirely out from his hiding place, ghostly movements fluid as always, hovering about halfway between Theo's eye level and his own actual height.

When he finally speaks again, it's soft and almost inaudible. "I'm used to things not being fair for me."

Given the fit he'd been throwing, he's not as used to it as he'd like everyone else to believe.

Finding the appropriate words for this moment was difficult. Given, he never had tact to begin with. Even still, he couldn't find the right words that were even acceptable for him.

He opens his mouth, closes it, and after a few moments of hesitation, he finally allows himself to speak. "Just because you say you're used to that," he pauses, shifting his gaze, "doesn't make the unfairness to you any less valid."

Kankri pauses and looks up at Theo when he says that.

"I suppose my only regret is that it wasn't long enough," he admits, not reluctantly but with hesitation. "But then, would it ever have been?"

He sighs. "It was...nice, to be more than just a busybody has-been, for a while."

Theodore isn't sure that even an unlimited amount of time would be enough. He doesn't voice that, though. Instead, he tries to actually say something helpful.

"Maybe that's what you should think about then." He pauses. "It was nice for me too. But nothing is going to change how things are now." And even greater pause because this part is really hard to say. "We can't all be so lucky to... have an opportunity like that."

It doesn't need to be said, either. They're both thinking the same thing.

That last remark confuses him. It's been too long since he's either used or heard anyone use 'has-been' in a non-literal context, and he floats a little higher off of the ground, closer to Theo's line of sight. "...What?"

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I'm n9t calling f9r a sec9nd chance

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#keywords accurate #for that matter so were the OP keywords

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what even are tenses

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