Shadow Event Log

[shnpc]

WHO: Everyone, affected and not
TONE: Ranging from paranoid to angry
RATING: PG to PG-13
WHEN: After the memorial on October 31st through November 2nd.
WHERE: Hogwarts
WHAT: Those who have passed too near to a certain goblet may find themselves haunted by whispers of their unconscious insecurities. From themselves.
STATUS: ONGOING
NOTE: Details for the event are here, feel free to use the log for the whole event

Comments

[edle_gestalt]

[Should studying really be this difficult right now?

Roderich is in the library, at his favorite table, honestly just trying to get his work done. It started with a headache the previous night, and not even leftover chocolates from his birthday helped with that. He was plagued with nightmares about just about everything he could possibly be concerned over. This wasn't uncommon, but all those thoughts were exceedingly hard to shake today. So much so that he could swear he heard his own voice criticizing his every move. Likely, it was just the presence of intrusive thoughts that could be directly traced back to his OCD, but generally they weren't this... audible. Usually nothing more than a song that's impossible to get out of one's head. This... this sounded like someone was playing the song in his ear.

You only ever do anything for your mother's sake. It's not even anything to be ashamed of, is it? It's the easiest option, anyway. Everything's taken care of. And when she's not available, which is most of the time, you go to others to replace it. Look at how many sweets you got from that clever little letter you wrote to everyone on your birthday! Pity they only gave them to you because they felt obligated. But that's all you care about anyway, right? People should be respectful of you. They owe it to you! Ah, but for what -- you don't give anything back, you just take, and if you think your company is worth a damn you can think again. But regardless you've done quite a nice job making a home away from home in this respect. You're still spoiled. You've still got everyone wrapped around your finger because you're just so good at looking pitiful. Why, it's as I'd you've never left your crib; but it's the way you live your life, isn't it? So relax. You won't have to worry about ever becoming an adult.

...But why, then, are you denying the thing your mother wants most for you? Elizaveta is there, waiting, all according to your mother's plan. Waiting for you to drop your books and just hold her, or kiss her, or worse, right in front of everyone so that they'll stop bothering you about it saying how perfect you are for each other, isn't that a grand way to get them to SHUT UP -- now don't tell me you haven't had the thought hundreds of times already! Be happy; be married! Make a family, give your old woman some grandchildren. Get to it. It's all you ever think about anyway, is it not? Lord, but good luck getting her to comply when you look as shabby as you do right now. Did you look in the mirror at all when you left your dorm this morning, or were you too busy rushing because you're always late? You're hardly presentable. Look at your hair, it's falling down again. Your glasses are dirty. But you don't need them, anyway. Who are you kidding?

You're fake.

That's all you'll ever be to anyone else, too. Especially her.

Screwing his eyes shut, he tries to block out the voice and just read, like he's been trying to do all evening. Finally he can't take it anymore, and he slams his book shut and is ready to leave to go take a nap to clear his head -- such a lazy thing you are! -- when he sees a double of himself, sitting directly across from him, arms behind his head, feet in dirty shoes on the table. His clothing is frumpy and unclean, his hair shaggy and uncombed, no styling whatsoever, and he's missing his glasses. Is that... marmalade on his face??

He looks around briefly, seeing a friend pass by and nod at him, as if absolutely nothing is wrong.

He's the only one who sees this. He's out of his mind.

The figure waves at him.

Oh, and you don't practice nearly enough. You expect to have a career like this?]

[rule_britannia]

[Arthur's in the library for his own reasons. He's seen Roderich, but they don't need to spend all their time together just because they're friends, do they? Besides, the other boy looks busy enough.

He's about to leave when he notices that there's suddenly someone sitting across from Roderich, and it's not that fact that causes him to pause, but the expression on his friend's face as he looks at him. Arthur frowns, looks between the door and Roderich, then makes his way over. Something makes him place his hand on the other boy's shoulder when he's close enough to do so, his free arm holding the book he's borrowing against him.]

Hey, Roderich.

[Who the hell is this guy? Arthur can't help feeling a little uneasy.]

.. Who's your friend?

[pastapasta_i_love_pasta]

[It's time for Feli's daily siesta study session; normally he's thirty minutes later, but he's decided that today will be the day he impresses Ludwig with his timeliness and as such he pops down twenty minutes earlier. Ludwig was a clock personified; he wouldn't be around at the library still it was right on the dot, so he had at least twenty minutes to take a quick nap while waiting for his friend to arrive. Besides, the library was quiet and warm compared to the chilly air outside; it was perfect for a siesta!

Humming a little tune, he steps into the library with a bag of books and a pillow, intent on bagging the tables nearest to the fireplace. It's while he's on the way there, mindful of the rules regarding silence by singing his song quietly under his breath, that he spots a familiar hair strand that refused to stay in place. Feli smiles brightly and waves one hand, forgetting where he currently is by calling out to Roderich.]

Mr Roderich, good afternoon! How are you doing today? I'm here to study with my friend today, you can join us if you want to!!

[hagyjbeken]

[As if Elizaveta is having any better luck with all of this nonsense, having been hounded by this damn thing in the back of her head constantly. First it had been going on about how much of a tomboy she is, that she needed to actually pretend to care about the way she looked to others. The way that she moved was also continually sniped at along with the fact that it wasn't anything close to lady-like to be as into Quidditch as she was. That no matter what she told herself she'd never be able to get to that level and even then that no man would ever want her. So, really, she might as well resign herself to being forever alone or going after the ladies instead. But that would absolutely kill her father, not continuing the sad line that was already going.

Eliza could already feel her headache growing from this damned thing, typically rather good at hiding her insecurities and pushing them away for some other time. But today it seemed like everything was coming to a point she didn't want, that it would never end and she'd have to face her fears one way or another. Maybe the library would shut the damn thing up and allow her to think without the intrusive voice for once. What she had noticed, however, was that at the corner of her eye there was always a shadow that seemed almost like her but not quite. Weird.

When she entered the library she took a look around the area and upon spotting Roderich made her way over, raising a hand in a faint greeting gesture on her way over to the chair to the left of just across from him. Her shadow was more than happy to follow after her, though the very feminine and made-up version of her draped her arms over the Roderich shadow.

What a lovely choice~ Why don't you go ahead and give him a better greeting than that? Who cares what anyone thinks, you're a girl, you need to mark your territory after all~

After the words the shadow couldn't help a small smirk, leaning against the chair and placing her rather exposed chest up against shadow Roderich's back. Lips moved to his earlobe, nipping at it once before words moved into soft whispers just loud enough to be heard by the two.

Isn't that right? They're such prudes as they deny their wants, aren't they?

Eliza, on the other hand, is trying her best to not look absolutely horrified by this display, looking down at one of the books in the stack she'd set on the table.]

Oh my God. [Her own voice is barely more than a hiss, cheeks beginning to color a particularly deep shade of red.]

[mysterytwin]

[It started out as a stray thought inside his head. Just something that was easy to brush off and ignore, but he couldn't deny the lingering feeling.

Self doubt was something Dipper felt often, being the younger, less out-going of the Pines twins, and it wasn't uncommon for him to feel a little jealous, but it was something that he could easily bite back. Sometimes. Today appeared to be different though, as it seemed that no matter how much he tried to concentrate on his homework, there was still that nagging thought in the back of his head.

You only offered to help him because you like it when people have to go to you for help, don't you? Dipper lifted his hand to his head, rubbing it a little as he remained hunched over the parchment in front of him, carefully going over it to make sure he had room for an extra credit mark or two at the bottom. They'd be lost without you when you think about it, really. They're too dumb to pass their classes on their own, so they rely on you to help them. You saw Raz admit it in his own handwriting, he doesn't understand the basic theory behind potions, let alone how to utilize the theory into practice. The voice gave a small scoff.

Dipper gave a small sigh and rubbed at his eyes, face scrunching up. Mabel Mabel Mabel...don't even get me started on her. How many times have you been nice enough to let her copy your homework even though you told her only to look at it as an example? She should be groveling at your feet or at least tugging on your pant leg for your help. She might be the elder sister but she's always relied on you to hold her hand. You get jealous when she gives other boys her attention because it should always be about you, isn't that right, Dip? If you got her to shut up half the time maybe you'd get some of that attention you crave.

Ah, but that's what Norman's for, isn't it? Ickle widdle firstie has no idea what he's doing and you have his complete, undivided attention because you're so nice aren't you, Dipper? You're just so happy to give your advice like a chump. He might be able to see and talk to ghosts but he can't see a spell two feet in front of his face.

You like it when they need you, you like it when they pay attention to you. You like it. Admit it. Because Dipper Pines isn't good enough to be anything else.

The second year bit his bottom lip and swallowed deeply, shaking his head as he kept ignoring the voice, quill continuing to scratch away at the parchment even with the almost perfect doppleganger sitting across from him adjusts himself in his seat, watching with his hands to his chin and a smirk on his lips.]

[brokethecycle]

[Something about today had Norman on edge. It wasn't just because of the memorial or about the holiday, there was just something in the air that gave an unexplainable sense of dread.

He didn't know if it was him being a seer or Dipper's paranoia rubbing off on him.

Speaking of, he was doing everything he could to find him today. He didn't get a chance at the memorial, but he needed to apologize for forgetting to meet up with him the other day. He'd been coerced into Quidditch and somehow the time discrepancies with both meet ups had clashed. Between not wanting to disappoint an upperclassman and not being used to having to worry about organizing playdates, he'd completely stood Dipper up.

And he felt like a real jerk about it.

Ah, but Dipper was in the library, just like he'd hoped. Awesome.]

Dip-

[Wait a second. What was that sitting across from him? That- wasn't Mabel.]

[mabelangelo]

[Something had been going on today, and it was really really weird. A lot of the students had been acting really strange, but thankfully Mabel wasn't like that at all. Nope, still the same old Mabel, getting through the day with a smile and trying to cheer up people.

She was going to ask if he had anything he wanted to help her study or something, since she was actually having a bit of trouble in one of her classes, and she knew that he was better at it. With her book tucked under her arm, she entered the library and took a look around until she spotted her brother. ]

Dipper! I was wondering if you'd want to help me with my homework?

[No, she was too focused on him to see the shadow at first, the figure that she realized was there as she drew closer. Was that another of him? Hm. Investigation time!!]

Hey Dipper, what have you been doing today? What's up with this?? [She holds out her free hand, waving in the direction of the shadow.]

[gogglicious]

So, is this a spell misfire, or what?

[ Raz had been standing nearby, arms and legs crossed as he leaned a shoulder into a bookshelf, observing the two Dippers for some time before he actually said anything. No one else seemed to see the smirking Pine-- which, unsettling much?-- but that didn't mean that he wasn't there.

The other Dipper, the one that had to be the actual one because there was no mistaking that awkwardness and the smirk just looked so wrong on Dipper's face, looked uneased. He knew the doppleganger was there, without a doubt.

Gremlin even seemed unsettled, had the moment they'd left the Gryffindor tower. Raz wasn't sure what to make of it, until he saw that. Heard it, even. Damn, that was just weird. ]

[3potionproblem]

[At first, Sherlock was convinced it was just Moriarty weighing on his mind. He hadn’t given much thought to himself in years until the other boy had made an issue of it. Certainly it made sense for him to be a little more aware of himself than usual. But not like this.

Sitting out on the grounds, moleskein in his lap as he watched other people mill about, Sherlock was having a harder and harder time staying focused on his observations. Friends would walk past, students, teachers, lonely first years and social butterfly seventh years. So much data to test and document and yet his objective nature was compromised with pointless self-reflection. It was annoying. It didn’t stop just because he wanted it to, though. He’d thought he was more disciplined than that.]

You can deduce blood status in a gaze and several habits in one’s gait but you can’t tell when someone is simply teasing or if they’re mad at you. No amount of observation is ever going to make you normal. A sociopath would have mastered normal behavior by now. No one would even know a sociopath from the crowd. You stick out. You always have. It’s not a matter of not having emotions; you can’t comprehend them in others or even in yourself half the time.

[He scowled as he packed up his things. He wasn’t going to get any work done today.

Things didn’t improve though. And though Sherlock tried to ignore it, it seemed his thoughts felt inclined to manifest themselves the longer he ignored his own unsettling baritone. Sitting in the Ravenclaw dormitories he could almost swear he was watching himself pace along the rug, fingertips steepled at his lips.]

You’re clever enough to know the path of your own life once you’re done with Hogwarts. It doesn’t matter what you want with your life. You’re going to end up living at home, holed up in a tower of luxury where there are people to remind you to eat and sleep and make sure you haven’t neglected yourself too long. You’re sixteen years old and you still have to be taken care of. Certain OCD patterns emerging as co-existing conditions in conjunction with possible manic depression convoluting AS with unnecessary mental instabilities. No cure. Fact of life. Probable suicide—intentional or accidental—from escapism due to mental stagnation in late teens or early twenties.

[Sherlock scowled, hugging his knees against his chest as he continued to ignore what was probably some sort of mental breakdown. He hadn’t even realized he was stressed in the first place but something must have happened for him to be dealing with phantoms of his own making. It would have made far more sense for the phantom to look like Mycroft, though. It certainly sounded like him.]

Living in the muggle world won’t change your fate. It will just mean you’ll fail where less people can see you who know you. Muggle born students don’t like you any more than pureblood students do. You don’t blend in better with one than you do the other. Muggles may have a better understanding of mental disabilities but they have the same expectations as everyone else. You either find a way to contribute to society or find someone to take care of you. You don’t want the latter. You have yet to figure out the former. Something has to change and what you’re doing is far from enough to fix it.]

[Sherlock clenched his jaw and threw his notebook through the air towards it, not in the least bit satisfied by the way it simply sailed through the air through its pitying stare. He unfolded his limbs and headed out of the tower. There had to be some distraction that would keep such thoughts at bay.]

[catblog]

[Molly herself was having trouble focusing on her own work as well. While her own inner thoughts weren't as severe as Sherlock's, it still greatly affected her.

She was struggling to keep thinking about other things to drown out the whispers in her head. She doesn't need this, she needs to focus on other things right now.

Which is why she sets her sights on Sherlock. What's going on? As he was walking somewhere, she mumbled a bit. Should she go after him? With a sigh, she walked up to him]

Sherlock? Is something wrong?

[Of course there was, Molly, and yet...]

[speterman]

[The sight he had been met with when he stepped into the sixth year dormitory was not one he had been expecting. He was one of the many that had not seemed to be feeling well that day; he was on his way to talk to Tony, tell him he was going to see Dolores when he saw the sight unfold before his eyes. Uncomfortably -- very very much so -- he found himself picking up the notebook that had been discarded in such aggression.

Ok, Pete, you've seen weirder things. Just find him, return it, do your good deed for the day and ignore how much of a prick he is. That was his mantra and he was going to chant it over and over in his head. He just needed to ignore the whole somewhat worried about Sherlock fact, because wow, who care, that guy's a total prat.

He stopped thinking, because, holy crap, right, catching up to Sherlock. One of his strides was like fifteen of Peter's. Geez! He was unfortunately right, and trying to catch up to Sherlock was like catching up to a train on a unicycle. Racing after him was not a thing Peter wanted to try doing ever again.]

Sherlock! Hey, wait up, wow, height? Not something I have! Why don't we give me a break and slow down for a minute! Sounds like a beautiful plan.

[di_intraining]

[There's a sense of unease in the air, the day after the memorial. Greg's not the most preceptive of people, but the downcast and edgy mood of some of his fellow students was starting to become a trend amongst the student body. A few questions to some of the younger Puffs yielded denials and requests to stay away before the students quickly ran off for now reason whatsoever.

Maybe it was just the memorial; the weight of the previous Wizarding War that fostered the deaths of so many over one man's madness bearing down on students who were frankly not old enough to handle it just yet. He rationalised it as such and decided to leave well alone for now; they just needed to cool down and he could check in on them later, no worries. In the mean time, it was break time so there's time for a quick visit to the library to get more work done. And it's on the way there that he spots the tall frame of a familiar Ravenclaw. He's still unsure of Sherlock and the teen's intentions, whether malicious or really just pure curiosity as he claimed it was, but it's only common courtesy to greet the other, which Greg does so with a nod.]

Afterno-

[The greeting dies halfway. Greg rubbed his eyes and took a second look, then perhaps a third, before pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Because that sure was a second Sherlock following the first.]

The hell...?

[greenmoonrising]

[Bruce narrowly misses getting hit in the face with the notebook, catching it in his hand and staring at Sherlock with confusion.]

Hey, what's wrong?

[Seeing how tense Sherlock looks - odd, considering the boy's usually more like a cat - he moves closer, stepping through the phantom without realizing it.]

Did something happen?

[3houseswatson]

[John was on his way to the library, needing to pick up some books for class. As always, it was frustratingly slow going, and he still had a way yet to go. On top of that, he'd felt uneasy and somewhat exhausted ever since the memorial. He was starting to worry that he was coming down with something, though whatever it was hadn't hit him full on yet.

As he turned a corner, he noticed Sherlock heading his way. The Ravenclaw looked troubled and somehow even paler than usual, if such a thing were possible. Something was clearly bothering him.]

Sherlock! You okay?

[wwistful]

[By the time Sherlock is heading out of the tower, Murdoc has finished teaching for the day and is leaving his classroom so he can grade papers in his office.

As ever, he looks perpetually displeased and unimpressed whilst heading toward his office. He glances about on occasion to make sure the students are behaving themselves. He might be happy to be finished with classes, but his job never really ends.

When he sees Sherlock in the halls, he nods at him. The boy might hand in some questionable assignments, but he didn't harbour any ill feelings toward him. Not many, anyway. He might be a little bitter, but he's a professor and he isn't about to let that stop him from showing respect.]

Holmes. [He says that in greeting, unsure whether the Ravenclaw has any intention of returning the favour. He wasn't the most chipper of people, but it wasn't difficult to see he was a little out of sorts. Curious behaviour indeed.]

[ihaveanappforthat]

Sheeerlock~ I do love seeing you when something seems to be awry. You get this sort of pouty baby face.

[Moriarty seemed to be able to catch up with him with some form of ease, despite his lack of lanky stride span. He fell into step with the other, a grin on his face as he did.]

Now this time I can honestly say it's not because of ME. Which is, a tad bit disappointing, if I do say so.

[arrogantalloy]

[As Sherlock strides out into the hallway, Tony's making his way up towards the common room, his eyes down and focused in on his own notes that he had taken in the library for his PEPA system. Mentally compiling what he wrote to make it fit with his pre-existing data and plans. Seeing something move in his peripheral vision, the Stark heir looks up and stops as he see's Sherlock and his likeness approaching.

He smirks, assuming it's either a class assignment or some strange experiment of his.]

Wow, what's go you so happy then?

[Admittedly, not one of his best jokes. But he considered the phrase being beside yourself rather fitting given the situation.]

Or, maybe it's anger. Because even for you this is more of a frown on your face. Don't tell me that you aren't even getting along with you now. There's really no hope for life now is there?

[He gives a slight laugh.]

[fuckmackandme]

[Wow. You really are lame, aren't you?

It had started as a whisper. A nagging whisper that had made him moodier than usual. The feelings weren't unfamiliar, though, oh no. He'd had them for a long time now, but he'd always managed to push them down under his pranking, and cheerful disposition, to the point that he sometimes forgot he felt that way too.

Sometimes.

Seriously, though. A movie nerd? How lame is that? Everyone likes movies, and you're not even into making movies yourself! You just watch them. Wow, so cool. You're the specialest, it is you. You did it.]

Shut up...

[He was in a hallway on the way back to the common room when it appeared. A shadowy figure that looked too much like him for comfort. It waved at him casually before continuing its monologue.

So, how's your reading of Colonel Sassacre's book? Gotten past opening it at random chapters yet? Ha! And you call yourself a pranking master. 'Oooh, but it's an unabridged copy, it's hard to read' indeed! Ooooh, speaking of hard, how's Dave?]

No... Don't go there...

[Man, you've been leading him on for a while now, haven't you? All that 'lol j/k' flirting, man, no wonder the poor kid was devastated when you gave him that 'maybe, but probably not'. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? All that 'not a homosexual' bullshit is hard to let go, isn't it? And what kind of friend were you that he couldn't even tell you he liked guys? Dave Strider, poker-face and bluntness deliverer extraordinaire, afraid of telling you something! You're lame, and a bad friend to booth! You're totally right, Dave must be crazy if he likes you. But then you went and got that crazy urge to kiss him, and now he's broken up with Jade, the cool twin! Lame, bad friend, and home-wrecker! Quite the package, huh?

He couldn't take it any more. He covered his ears and just screamed in the figure's general direction.]

Shut up!

[hethrewabombatme]

[Gilgamesh is on his way out of the common room when he hears John talking to someone. They've been friends a while now, haven't they? Joke buddies, prank masters, there's nothing they're afraid to do when it comes to making things explode, or turn upside-down, or turn unusual colours for kicks. Much to the exasperation of Gilgamesh's parents, but he's determined that he won't be like them.

Oh, he'll be successful, but he won't sacrifice himself to do it.

It's only when he gets closer that he starts hearing the other voice. Something about Dave, but he can't quite make it out. A puzzled expression flickers across his face, and he closes the distance between he and John in time to jump back as the boy screams at the top of his lungs.]

Whoa, whoa! John! Who are you--

[Then he sees it. That shadow that looks just like John, but not like John.]

... O.. kay.

[3houseswatson]

[It had started about an hour ago. John was on his way to breakfast when he noticed the stairs preparing to change. If he could make it there quickly enough, he wouldn't have to wait for them to swing around again. He hobbled as quickly as he could, but it was no use - the only way he could have gotten there in time would be if he could run.

As he glared at the stares, he heard it for the first time: Pathetic., followed by snide laughter. He'd looked around, but saw nobody.

It had happened again after the stairs finally repositioned themselves. As he trudged up the steps, the voice was louder: God, could you go any slower? Snails are faster.

Eager to get away from the... whatever it was, John pushed himself to go as quickly as he could. On the last step, his cane landed awkwardly on the edge, and it tumbled from his hand, sending him to his knees. As he winced at the throbbing pain in his leg, he heard the voice give a loud, mocking laugh. Looking up, he saw... himself. Or something that looked like a ghostly version of himself, anyway.

And it had followed him all the way to the breakfast table, where he now sat, completely devoid of appetite as the thing continued to mock him.]

Over a year later, and you're still broken. Someone stronger would be able to shake off whatever's wrong with you - ah, what was it again? Oh, that's right, nothing.

Shut up.

It'd be one thing if only you were affected by this, you know. But no, you've pretty much destroyed your family with it as well. Harry absolutely reeked of beer the last time you saw her, and it was 9 in the morning!

Whatever you are, you aren't real. So just. Shut. Up.


Everyone would be better off if you'd died that night.

[John bangs his fists on the table, and says, much louder than he anticipated:]

I ALREADY KNOW, so just SHUT UP!

[di_intraining]

[No rest for the weary. A day after he had met Sherlock and the Ravenclaw's double, Greg was hoping for a return to normalcy, far away from all the self-depreciating clones that had appeared in the castle. He's starting to suspect that if Sherlock had one that had put him in such a bad mood, than there must be other clones around that were running the original down. True that he couldn't see any one else's but Sherlock's, but at this point it is a plausible reason for the spike in bad moods and outbursts in the castle.

Just as he took the first step into the dining hall, he heard the slam on the table and the raised voice of someone who usually kept his cool even under heated situations. With a sinking heart, he noted the inclusion of an extra face at the Hufflepuff table, sitting next to John.]

Damn it...

[Not John too...he immediately stormed over to the table, one angry scowl painted across his face and directed at the smirking clone.]

Piss off and leave John alone!

[marshall_lee]

[Marshall had been feeling out of sorts since the night of the memorial. Oddly he had felt like he had a headache so he had just taken an extra shot of his potion and went to bed.
The next morning he had been startled to discover well, himself sitting on his trunk.]

"Getting up in the morning? You're the lamest vampire ever." it smirked.
Marshall scowled. "I don't know who or what you are but piss off."

The figure stood up and stepped more in light of the room. It definitely was Marshall but this Marshall practically screamed "I'm a vampire." This one had a more feral gleam in his eyes and a slightly bloodstained mouth. The real Marshall recoiled in disgust and the shadow-Marshall laughed.]

"Do I scare you Marshall Lee? Do I remind you of what you really are?"
"I'm nothing like you" the real Marshall scowled.
"Oh, you're a lot more like me than you think you are." the shadow purred. "You act like you're so much better than other vampires, but keep in mind that you've done some pretty awful things yourself. Remember?"
Marshall did remember and he didn't want to. He scowled.
"Maybe so but that's in the past. I want to be a better person."
The shadow-Marshall gave a short bark of laughter.
"You keep forgetting one thing though..you're not a person. You're a vampire. Vampires have instincts. You would be a lot better off if you just quit pretending to be human and started being what you actually are."
The shadows statement hit Marshall hard and he paused for a moment before scowling and turning to head out the door.
"Fuck you. You don't know me. I'm out."
He gets up and leaves with his shadow-self following closely behind making comments the entire way.
"You'll break some day Marshall Lee. Trust me..."

up to you if he hears anything about the vampire bit!

[edle_gestalt]

[Roderich had been trying to get rid of this damn thing following him. Desperately. And to no avail.

He passes by, mostly focused on minding his own business but he stops in his tracks, hearing all of the things said by the shadow nearby. He looks over at Marshall.]

... You've got one too. Where on earth are they coming from??

[His own speaks up. I've always been here, I didn't have to come from anywhere. I'm just you. Is that so hard to realize?]

[remembertheroses]

[It had started as a simple headache. Nothing too severe. Ib didn't want to trouble anyone either, not with the memorial going on, so she decided that all she needed was a good night's rest. She could tough it out, no problem.]

You're not strong.

[But although the pain had faded the next day, Ib couldn't help but feel somewhat...strange. A niggling feeling at the back of her head, almost as if someone was following her around everywhere, whispering into her ear.]

You can't do anything by yourself.

[As the day progressed, what started out as near-silent mutters started gaining in volume. Ib spent most of lunch-time glancing around her wildly, trying to pin-point the source of the voice. She only succeeded in weirding out her lunch time companions, and with an embarrassed apology she tried her best to settle down and eat her meal in puzzled silence. Class time was no different; she could barely concentrate on whatever her professors were saying, that feeling of being watched constantly at the forefront of her mind. Again she risked a peek around her, but all she saw were the bent heads of all her classmates as they scribbled down notes.

Maybe she was just paranoid.]

Scaredy-cat.

[As the day advanced though, that paranoia that had taken root inside her started to grow. Soon enough, those mummers became whispers, which became clearer and clearer with every passing hour. But no matter how many times she looked around, she would see no one. Once again, that fear that had struck her at the memorial reared its ugly head. Class was all but impossible, and by the end of her last one she just about threw herself out the classroom, hurrying to get away from the oppressive atmosphere around her. And for awhile it seemed like it worked. She found a quiet niche underneath a staircase that seemed to be far, far away from the crowds of students and the mysterious voice that had plagued her since morning. With a sigh of relief, she took out some parchment from her bag, her collection of markers and crayons as well as her quill, and started to sketch.

And that's when her world started to burn.

Her art failed her.

The first few failed sketches were alright; it did take her awhile to get her creativity going. But as the first few turned into the first ten, and then the first dozen, Ib started to feel a tiny spark of panic at her sudden lack of inspiration. Nothing seemed to look right. The pictures came out all wrong. The colours didn't match. Everything just seemed to clash with each other horribly. And it was as her panic started to grow, nursed by her mounting fear, that the voice suddenly came out in full force; sweet, innocent, but each word laced with poison.]

That's not good enough Ib. It's very ugly.

[Her drawings started to get more frantic as she pulled out more parchment. The balls of crumpled paper around her started to pile up as she tried harder and harder, squeezing out every drop of art that she could muster, but all she could produce were disfigured drawings, disgusting to behold.]

Mama and Papa will be disappointed if you can't draw Ib. Maybe they will drop you off at an orphanage and adopt a prettier girl who's better than you.

[Her self-confidence started to crumble as more and more failed word started to litter the ground. Her quill pressed harder and harder into paper as she tried to will the pictures to come forth, but her only creations were increasingly frantic strokes, malformed spheres and crooked lines. Her fear grew and grew and so did the voice that snidely remarked on each mistake she committed. The fear ate at her, brewed self-doubt and tore down the faith in her abilities that she had taken so long to build.]

That's not art Ib, that's trash. You don't want your friends to see trash. That's not what a good friend does. Are you a good friend, Ib?

[She didn't even realise that she shook her head as her art became desperate. She couldn't even think with how upset she was getting, and the worse thing is she didn't even know why she was getting so frustrated.]

That's because you're a useless baby Ib. You can't do anything by yourself.

[As thought failed her, she turned to her feelings instead. She let her frightened, pained emotions push her as she violently crossed out the last bit of her parchment. No, it wasn't the last bit; she still had her journal to draw in, didn't she? She had one last chance to succeed; she couldn't mess up. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as panic spurred her on. She didn't even know what she was drawing anymore; all that she knew was that she wanted it to be good; as masterpiece, something that her friends would like, because she wanted them to be happy and for them to like her too. They did like her art, right?]

Nobody likes your art Ib. It's all so horrible. You should stop drawing, you're just hurting people's eyes.

[Red, blue and yellow. Paint the lines, cut the flesh. Draw a circle, gouge the eyes. Barely aware of her surrounding, barely even aware of the shadowy girl who had materialised next to her, all Ib could see, could think, could feel...was fear. Anguish. Disappointment. Self-hate. She took that moment to literally smash her crayon into the pages, leaving thick indents as if she was trying to leave a brand forever on the paper. She had to make the picture good though. If she didn't make it good, then no one would like it. No one would like her. Mama and Papa wouldn't like her anymore.

She'll be all alone.]

You are all alone.

[She has friends.]

You have no friends.

FRIENDS

"He's sleeping..."

NO HE IS NOT

"Ib noooooooooo!!!!"

YOU BURNED HER

"Do you want to jump in?"

YOU LEFT THEM BEHIND





COME

PLAY

IB


[In one breath, all her pent up emotions burst forward, and Ib let out a long, withdrawn scream as she threw her journal at the wall and covered her ears. The journal knocked into the wall harmlessly, falling back on it's spine to reveal Ib's drawing. The walls nearby had those three words practically carved on, but Ib hadn't even noticed that she had written them. All she could was scream and try to block out the thoughts and words that were spoken to her by her double.]

[catblog]

[Meanwhile, Molly was trying her best to ignore the whispers in her mind in favor of looking after people. She let out a mumble as each thought tried to get to her but she refuses to let that happen. As her pace quicken, she noticed a small girl in the corner. It was hard to ignore the sound of the journal hitting the wall.

While she can't see what's going on, at least she was able to comfort the girl in some way. She cautiously took a step forward before leaning in closer to her. She didn't even bother to look in the journal, that was nothing compared to Ib. Here goes nothing.]

It'll be okay...it will be over soon.

[notthebee2]

[ At first, it was just odd. An odd sensation on the back of his head. The usual feelings. The ones of insecurity and distress that ate away at him every day ever since he could remember. But he had built his defenses. He had made his wall that seperated those feelings from the outside world. The one other people knew as Sollux Captor was partially a facade to protect himself from everything. To keep his true feelings bottled up, not available for anyone to gaze at. But this was different. This was unrelenting. Sollux ignored it at first, thinking of it as just another bout of bullshit forming up. But the next day, it had grown. He had to pour all of his heart and sould into keeping it at bay, something he had never had to do before. Something that made him aware that this was much more than his simple insecurities.

You're not good enough for anybody, not even yourself. You don't deserve to be here, to have all this. Such a disgusting pig shouldn't even be allowed to LOOK at this school, much less attend it. Someone else should be here, not some rotting piece of garbage like you. But maybe, just maybe, that's just what you deserve. What you need to get your filthy person in line. You know that girl that puts up with you? She only does it out of PITY. She only does it because she feels sorry for you. She could be doing much better things, but noooo. Poor Sollux Captor was alone and needed a friend, and then she was stuck to you out of the pure kindness of her heart. Now there's a good person, unlike you. You don't even deserve to have her near you. To see her. Oh, you say she's your friend? Forget it. You don't have friends. You don't have anything. You're a disgusting self deprecating asshole who pushes people away from himself, aren't you? Yes, yes you are. You're shit. No, you don't even deserve that. You're worse than shit. Not even fit to belong in a sewer. And that boy you think you're warming up to? There's a reason why you disliked him. He wants to get near you, to get you to open up, and then he'll stab you in the back and leave you to die, like anyone else would. You're alone. Everyone loathes you, resents you. You're lucky enough to have people who PRETEND they care about you.

And with that, Sollux snapped out of it, finding himself wandering around one of the halls, with no one in sight and no memory of how he had gotten there. Well, that wasn't completely correct. At first, it was just something in the corner of his eye, but a more... astute inspection revealed... himself? A shadowy reflection of him, grinning like an idiot. Sollux just thought he was seeing things, until the shadow spoke, its voice mesmerizing and tempting.

Look at you. You don't even know where you are, do you? Shouldn't you be in class? How could a ravenclaw student wander like this? You're a piss poor representative for your house. The worse that ever was.

And thus this went on all day. It wasn't until the end of the last class that an oddly silent Sollux made a beeline to wherever the fuck there wouldn't be any people. If he opened his mouth it would just be an invitation to let the tears pour out. ]

[allisnotlost]

[Something had been happening today. After the memorial, Eridan had noticed some people just seemed off today. He tried not to take too much thought into it, he wasn't being effected, there wasn't a reason to worry. So, Mr. Ampora went about his day, focusing on his classes as well as he could and trying to act as if this entire thing wasn't slowly starting to weird him out more and more.

It was after classes that he realized there wasn't a way to get around this scott-free. Before it turned too late, Eridan decided to spend the remainder of his time in the library, just relaxing and surrounded by books of all kinds, you know, being a nerd relaxing but not... actually doing any reading or anything.

While relaxing, he takes a casual look around to see someone else stepping on into the library. Oh look. It's Sollux, who looks like his usual nerd self from afar as he disappears down an aisle. Eridan stands up as casually as he can and shoves his hands in his pocket, wandering on closer to him. He cracks a smirk, idly removing a hand from his pocket to scratch the back of his head. He had the perfect opening liner that would really make him so mad.

Except.

Something caught his eye. He was about to hassle him, make him feel bad, just like normal. Alas, the Sollux that was like him made him... stop. He was curious to what it even was, but he wasn't going to act as if it was something freaky. At least he'll try to be a bit eloquent as he can. Not really]

... What the hell's that?

[seeringlight]

[Rose wasn't sure how to react at first when she started hearing the whispers. The whispers that were obviously in her voice. She ignored it of course. They told her things she already knew and at first, it was a nuisance more than anything.

But it progressed, she realized. It became more insistent as the day progressed and it didn't take long before she was literally followed by some dark, shadowy figure that she recognized to be herself. Despite it all, Rose forced herself to continue through her day without acknowledging it.]

Oh, look at you, trying to be the perfect student. A little miss know-it-all because she'll never be decent at anything else. You're a lousy friend after all. You only care for yourself and your image. You don't actually trust any of your friends! Not even your family.

[Rose flipped a page and concentrated on her book. It'll go away. It can't keep at this now can it.]

Not that it matters. Who could love a cynical and spiteful child like you? Only fourteen and you think you understand the world. Only fourteen and you can barely call any of your relationships close. Oh? Remember how your mother is clearly the loved, socialite she should be? How did she give birth to an antisocial brat like you? No wonder Bro never wanted to touch you with a ten foot pole. He only did it for Dave. Dave is the loved child, after all. Even Roxy is a much better person than you. She's got more problems than you but you don't see her being some hot mess like you.

Tais-toi juste!!! [Rose knocked over her chair as she suddenly got to her feet. She froze and looked around before picking up her books and bag and heading out of the library as quick as possible.] Une fiction de mon imagination... [She muttered to herself.]

What's wrong? I thought you always tackled your problems head on. Pretending that I'm not here? Isn't that cowardly?

C'est une longue journée.

[If anyone were to speak to Rose. She might seem tired and even rather snippy as she speaks. Irate and no way to channel it. Not that she is trying too. She's trying to bottle it up and proceed with her day as usual.]

[plushaeusrumpified]

[Bro unfortunately managed to miss the library incident. It's probably a good thing, because hearing all of that? That would've been a lot to take in and he would've had a lot to say about it if he knew how she was really feeling. A lot of people seemed to be acting weird lately though. He was starting to wonder if there was something in the air. Maybe people were just... doing more drugs than usual. Or maybe the castle was screwing with people again. He wouldn't put that past the place after everything that had happened over the last few weeks.

But the difference here, though. Is that it's personally messing with his kid. If he knew that, oy he'd be pissed as hell. Fortunately for the moment, he doesn't know anything is going on.

So when he sees her on his way through the castle, he stops.]

Yo, hey. Where you headed in such a hurry?

[greenteengenius]

[The first few times he thinks it's just a trick of the lights. Then it becomes too frequent and raises his suspicions.

His first thought is Tulio. He had planned to prank the boy by cursing his shadow to make faces at him when he wasn't looking. Turning around quickly gave him no insight, showed him nothing.

But how would Tulio have found out about that plan anyway? Even if another Ravenclaw had found what Lyrl was working on, how would he know the intended target?

It didn't make sense--and as he tried to think the shadows flickered suspiciously again, and there, just on the edge of hearing, were whispers.]

You left her ...

[Lyrl spins around, having heard that almost in his ear but barely able to make out the meaning.

That hadn't been part of the plan ... ]