Things are not okay. on Sonora Lounges

Nathaniel Mordue

February 23, 2021 1:15 PM

Things are not okay. by Nathaniel Mordue

Nathaniel had, he supposed, been as interested as anyone else in learning what was causing the apparitions around campus - the things he had mistaken for an illusion spell he wasn't familiar with. Now, seeing the answer in all its glory, he found he suddenly remembered the old saying about the downsides of curiosity.

Why had he allowed his eyes to wander along the rows of figures? Why had he not processed the information and then walked away? The thing he had seen had been completely harmless, and he couldn't imagine why anyone would want to discuss it with him - he could have just wandered away and no harm would have been done. But he hadn't done that. He had stayed. He had looked over the rows of silvery photographs - perhaps just to check that what he had seen really had been one of them, perhaps out of professional interest in the images themselves, which were still. And then, suddenly, he had seen her face among them.

When he had first gotten ill, the things that had finally driven him to admit that something was wrong to his uncle and aunt had been the physical symptoms. The extreme bouts of fatigue, the weakness that came and went in his legs, the sporadic loss of feeling in his hands, the shortness of breath: all that had made him more and more anxious, but the thing that had finally tipped the scales had been the incident where he had briefly gone blind at a party. Dr. Greene said that he was not insane as such, the symptoms were real - he had, she said, a very physical reaction to stress. Later, after he'd been tricked into telling her a bit about his mother, she'd speculated that it might be an inherited trait - that in emotional distress, he and his mother literally made themselves ill. Her solution involved finding ways to externalize his emotions, which had - as reluctant as he generally was to give her credit for anything - made some sense; rage had never fixed the problem, but it had made it easier to cope with, before he'd been banned from screaming at people anymore. So he vented his feelings to her sometimes, or to paper, or just into exhaustive exercise, and either it had worked or he had simply gotten more used to everything being terrible, but he had thought, one way or another, that he had gotten the problem back under control.

Apparently, he hadn't.

When he'd recognized his mother, the stab of pain in his stomach had been so sharp that his arm had moved automatically to shield his abdomen, as though someone were actually trying to stab him. Nausea had risen rapidly into his throat; his heart had begun pounding erratically, which had not helped at all with the urge to be sick. Years of etiquette training had saved him, forcing his face into a blank mask of features as immobile as though they really had been fashioned out of porcelain. He had known, though, that he couldn't sustain the front for long. He'd had to get out of there.

When he had left the Hall, he had not consciously known where he intended to go, but his feet were apparently able to make some deductions for him. His own bedroom was the safest place, the one where he could be truly alone, but it was a long way away and would require him to pull off the jig to get to it, and cross the common room. The jig seemed impossible right now and the common room wide, and possibly full of people who could call out to him and want things from him. Most of the rest of the school, however, had posed an even greater threat: it consisted mostly of places that Sylvia, Jeremy, or both might find him in, and he couldn't let them see him like this, he had to compose himself first. That had left only the prefects' lounge, which wasn't guaranteed privacy, but at least couldn't have his family in it.

When he mumbled the latest password at the door, the world finally decided to give him a tiny scrap of mercy: the room was currently empty. His composure began to crumble before he even had the door closed again behind him, his temples throbbing as his vision dissolved into a blur, sight obscured by water welling up. Shaking, he all but fell into a seat on a sofa, his hands going up to his face to try to obscure it even though he was alone, as though that might somehow help him in his effort, not terribly successful, to suppress sobs.

16 Nathaniel Mordue Things are not okay. 1412 1 5

Evelyn Stones

February 23, 2021 1:29 PM

I don't understand, but I do. by Evelyn Stones

There was something remarkably unsatisfying about her conversation with Heinrich after the revolution that all the misty things around campus had been memories. On one hand, it was nice to have answers and it was nice to know that he didn't think differently of her for knowing that this thing he'd seen was a thing that had actually happened, but he'd seemed . . . almost sure that there was nothing else to talk about. He wasn't wrong, but it felt wrong. She felt like she was supposed to talk about it. Or want to talk about it. For years, when these things came up, her job was to talk about it. Now that she didn't have to - in part because she already had and in part because it just didn't matter anymore - she couldn't tell whether it was habit that made her feel like she should talk about it, or whether she actually wanted to still. Whether there was anything left unsaid was another matter.

Otherwise, the conversation with Heinrich had been fine. He'd given her head kisses and hugs and reinsurance and vulnerability and he'd been good. It was nice feeling like even when things were wrong, they could be right too. It wasn't just one or the other anymore, and she could feel like a conversation hadn't satisfied some need of hers that she didn't even know she had while also feeling like everything was going to be okay. It had been a long time since she'd really worried in any sincere way that Heinrich was about to leave her forever, although it was hard to push those fears away. Seeing her father's picture and remembering those memories was one of the hard times. There were too many things he'd be write about if her life went downhill from here and she hated that she'd not only be alone and sad, but also be proving him right.

She tried not to let those thoughts fill her head as she made her way to the prefect's lounge, where she'd left a textbook after the previous night's duty shift. It probably said a lot about her as the non-Aladren in her social circle that the textbook was the thing she'd left behind. She focused on that, and on the lovely people in her social circle, as she made her way to the door, gave the password, and let herself in.

One member of her social circle - albeit probably a reluctant member if his cousin was anything to go by - was already there, looking like he was having a much harder time with his own thoughts than she was with hers. Evelyn's eyes rounded, worried that he'd gotten injured or else gotten some horrible news, or else that one of the memories had been his and was horrible in its own right.

"Nathaniel?" she said in a soft, worried voice, crossing the room quickly and taking a seat beside him. She stopped short of actually touching him, although she had the distinct urge to offer a hug or a comforting shoulder squeeze or some other form of physical comfort. She'd come a long way, she realized, that that physical contact was positive to her now. "What's going on?"

22 Evelyn Stones I don't understand, but I do. 1422 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

February 24, 2021 2:20 PM

...why does that statement make sense to me? by Nathaniel Mordue

Oh, no.

The thought felt almost as if it came from the outside when he heard the door opening again. Perhaps, since it was this door, he wouldn't end up being suspected of heresy by Sylvia or Jeremy directly - but if it was one of their friends coming in, it was possible it would at least get back to them that he had had a breakdown. They could suspect why, or just lose all patience with him, or ask questions...and even if none of those things happened, someone was still seeing him like this.

He ought, he knew, to feel ashamed. That was the only proper response to his situation. He was a grown man, for heaven's sake, and he had had some of the burdens of one for significantly longer than he had had the title. He was supposed to be strong - had a moral imperative to be strong - and if he could not, then he had to at least look as if he was...but he couldn't seem to muster the energy to feel shame. He managed to hold his breath for a few seconds, and to (hopefully surreptitiously) press his sleeves into his eyes, but he did those things more because of an abstract knowledge that he ought to rather than an emotional response. He just felt...empty.

"Nothing - ah, nothing important, I mean," he said dully. Somehow, it seemed appropriate that it was Evelyn who had found him, or perhaps he was just relieved it wasn't someone who wasn't likely to use it against him. "I'm sorry - the things in the Hall...." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I don't know if it was me, or my brother, or Sylvia, I couldn't see enough to guess, but...it seems one of us remembered my mother." He rubbed his temples. "It's absurd, of course - you'll think I'm absurd," he said, vaguely sure he was trying and failing to make light of it, "but - it's been a long time since I've seen her face. I have all my old photographs of her, of course, but I don't take them out very often, and seeing her there, like a ghost, when I wasn't expecting it...I miss her."

He had not meant to say the last sentence, had not even consciously thought of it. It was not, after all, as if his mother was entirely gone for him, not the way she was for Jeremy. He accepted her letters, he wrote to her, he addressed those letters to 'Mama' and didn't correct her when she alluded to having 'sons.' And yet....

"I am sorry," he repeated. "I hope I didn't alarm you - that was, that was a bit...unnecessarily dramatic of me, not very appropriate."

16 Nathaniel Mordue ...why does that statement make sense to me? 1412 0 5

Evelyn Stones

February 24, 2021 2:32 PM

We're more alike than your cousin would like you to think. by Evelyn Stones

Nathaniel usually didn't say a lot of words and here he was, saying words. It was a good thing. It was a good thing. It was a good thing even if Evelyn wanted to grab him by the shoulders and decide later whether it was to shake him or hug him. It was a good thing even if Evelyn's stomach landed in her throat at his admission. It was a good thing. Talking was a good thing. She wondered a bit at what the memory had been, whether his mom had the same sad eyes that he did. If he saw the memory again, would it be good or bad? Was his mom just a figure in the background of a bad memory like hers had been for her whole life? Or was she more than that?

"You're wrong," she said softly, giving into the urge to both shake and hug him but opting to do neither with her hands. "That is very important. You're important. Do you know that? I get the feeling you don't know that."

She took a breath, torn on whether empathy meant it was best to share her own experiences with Nathaniel or to encourage him to say more about his own. Knowing him only even as much as she did, she doubted there was much that could get him to say more unless she was eager to push him into further emotional distress and out of the realm of self-control, and that didn't seem wise to attempt.

"I haven't seen my mom for years either," she said with a small shrug. "I miss her. I'm really mad at her . . . but I still miss her. She was in my memory up there too but her picture wasn't. She was sort of in the background. She was always sort of in the background. Still is I guess," she added, to clarify in case she hadn't before that her mom hadn't died. "It's odd isn't it? Real ghosts aren't half so scary as the ones in our own heads," she said with a dry smile.

"You don't have to be sorry," she promised. "I don't know how much I can help, but I'm happy just to be here for you if you want. Missing someone is the loneliest feeling I think." In her experience, it was also the most bittersweet, dangerous one, because she had rarely had the opportunity to miss anyone who was any good for her, except for brief breaks from Sonora when she'd gone without seeing Heinrich or Ness or her other friends. She missed Gary and Parker but didn't think about it a whole lot. She supposed she'd get to find out what it felt like to miss people more soon and the idea made her stomach spin uncomfortably, but that was different; Heinrich was still there for her, even if he wouldn't be physically there. Her mom, and it sounded like maybe Nathaniel's mom, weren't there at all. "I've found that being appropriate is rarely the same as being genuine, and I much prefer genuine," she added.

22 Evelyn Stones We're more alike than your cousin would like you to think. 1422 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

February 25, 2021 4:42 PM

It's hard to deny. by Nathaniel Mordue

Evelyn was being very…earnest. Nathaniel was unsure how he felt about that. The idea of saying that someone was important, and expressing concern for his self-esteem…that was an action that involved a level of emotional intensity it was instinctive to flinch away from, or at least, it was something that he couldn’t imagine saying unless there was a great amount of emotional intensity behind it….

A wave of shadows swept through his brain at the sentiment. Did anyone really matter? They would all live for a moment…a few of them would make an impression, he supposed, but even they would eventually waste away down into myths, and from myths down into oblivion…shadows and dust. The lost kingdoms of antiquity were dug up, named after bits of mythology when gardeners and archeologists cut carious mouths into the ground so that it threw up a civilization’s bones…Looking at the photographs from times when that had happened, it was hard to think of much mattering at all – except, he supposed, the historians and explorers, but –

He struggled to organize his thoughts.

In the largest scale, he didn’t matter at all – that was a fact. In the largest scale, nothing did. But things could matter to people, and he hoped he mattered to a few people, anyway.

“I know there are people who’d agree with that,” he conceded. “Things I’m needed for….”

He listened as Evelyn talked about her mother, glad of the occasion to gather more of his composure even as he inwardly flinched at the subject. His stomach clenched as he put together what she was describing.

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed with a wry smile of his own. “If a real ghost harasses you, you can to the right office and get it sent away. Your own head…There’s no getting away from that, is there.”

He smiled again, this time sadly, at her further kindness. “You sound a little like her,” he remarked. “Well, her the way she eventually started sounding, after my father….” He shouldn’t have mentioned that. “Left,” he finished, almost defiantly. “After he left us…You might both be right,” he added, descending toward a mutter and running a hand through his already untidily curly hair. “My brother – I tried to set him a good example, and now that’s all blown up in my face, too – “ His inhibitions would refused to take any more of this. “I shouldn’t talk like this. But thank you. You’ll look after Alexander next year, won’t you? It’s none of my business, of course, but I’m fond of him, you know…”

He was babbling, he realized. That wasn’t ideal. He needed to stop doing that. The problem was, that was a task that just took even more energy, energy he didn’t have…he supposed it didn’t matter much anyway. He’d be gone in a few weeks and it would all be so much air – something as insubstantial as morality and fairness and justice in the world and all that, only this did make him feel slightly better instead of the swings to fury, despair, or some strange combination of both that the others were known to bring on.

16 Nathaniel Mordue It's hard to deny. 1412 0 5

Evelyn Stones

February 27, 2021 9:12 PM

You don't have to. It's okay to be associated with people like me. by Evelyn Stones

"No," Evelyn said a little sternly. "No, no. You're not important because of what you can do or your role or your bloodline. You're important because you're you. You matter. You're lovable. No one should ever make you feel like you don't matter but they do try. And they do a good job," she admitted, knowing the feeling herself. "But you are important all on your own," she promised. "It's important to learn that," she said, and she wasn't sure whether she was talking to him or herself then.

She smiled at his own little hint of amusement and nodded. "They say you can though, don't they? I've been seeing a therapist and it's great, definitely helps I highly recommend it, but like . . . she can't make those things just go away altogether or get them out of my head. Just makes me a little more . . . ghost-proof I guess," she decided.

That was the thing about therapy, or about being human for that matter. For all that you tried, you couldn't make bad things not happen, you could only make them not hurt so much or for so long, and you could make sure they didn't lead you to do bad things yourself. That was the important part, although sometimes she thought that it would be too easy to swing the other way, like a pendulum. If she had learned from her dad not to push boundaries or touch people without consent, then who was to help her keep from just never touching anyone and risking alienating people or hurting them that way? She supposed Heinrich and Ness helped her with that, but not everyone had a Heinrich or a Ness. Form what she knew of Nathaniel, all he had was a Sylvia, and she was pretty sure that was a rotten way to get anywhere in life that really mattered.

She wasn't sure what to make of being told she sounded like an abandoned woman but tried not to read too much into that. For all that she knew, Mrs. Nathaniel's-Mom had sounded a lot happier and freer after Mr. Nathaniel's-Dad had left. She could understood a family dynamic like that and it wasn't a stretch to think that Nathaniel could too, although his reactions in previous engagements made her think that it wasn't quite the same, thank Hestia. In truth, though, she wasn't really too sure how to help with anything in this case. Nathaniel had a host of problems she would not and could not ever understand. Her first thought was that little brothers could be hard, even though CJ was much younger than Jeremy, relative to her own age and chronologically, but then Nathaniel brought up Alexander. Oh right. She had another brother.

"I'll do my best," she agreed a bit hesitantly, aware that Alexander had his own family in his own way. At this point, they were reminders for each other of backgrounds they'd rather forget, and they hadn't had more than a few conversations as a result. Still, she could do a nice thing for Nathaniel. "I'll be sure to give you updates when I write to you. You know I'm going to write to you?" she asked, realizing he may not. "I wasn't kidding, you're important and you must learn DnD so you can play with us if you want too," she added with a smile. The expression faded though as she considered.

"I don't think I'm very good at being a big sister," she admitted. "I used to hate CJ. My dad cared so much more about him than me and my mom said he was part of the reason she left. But . . . he's also the only good thing that came out of my parents being together," she said quietly. "So . . . maybe he's okay. Alexander . . . I don't know what I can do for him, but I'll keep an eye out for you. And hey, Jeremy being whatever Jeremy is isn't your fault. He gets to make choices too, even if they feel small."

22 Evelyn Stones You don't have to. It's okay to be associated with people like me. 1422 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

March 05, 2021 3:17 PM

Associating with people like me, on the other hand... by Nathaniel Mordue

Evelyn was saying a lot of things, and at first, they made very little sense. What was a person, if not his role in society in relation to other people? Everything about Nathaniel had been formed either in response to what he'd thought people needed him to be, or else in response to stress when he had been unable to meet his perceived responsibilities...hadn't it? Except....

Well, for one thing, there was...this. He was not supposed to be friends, after a fashion, with Evelyn - their whole association should have been over as soon as he had completed the errands which had begun their acquaintance, or at least after she'd cut her hand. Speaking with her at first had been a matter of doing his duty as a Teppenpaw prefect, and making sure she got to the hospital wing safely had been part of being a gentleman, but he couldn't honestly say that it hadn't gradually turned into something else, no matter how he turned it about. It was the same with Alexander; helping the boy when he'd asked had been an obligation, getting emotionally invested in his well-being had not. And then there was, beyond all that, his photography....

He felt a distinct twinge of guilt as he thought of his photography. He had no excuse for even the beginning of that...for all the hours of his life he had spent off by himself, just him and the natural world and his equipment, immersed in the purely physical: his point of view narrowed to a single, amplified point outside of himself, the buttons slowly warming up beneath his fingers as time passed, feeling the sun heating or the wind chilling the back of his neck...All with no point at all, really, beyond his own satisfaction. He had not learned that for other people, or because of other people. He even had vague memories of his father teasing him, finding him odd for enjoying it.

And - well, what about other people, then? What was Jeremy's function, outside of Quidditch? Who did Jeremy use to define himself? Nathaniel supposed someone could build a self around being a Seeker, but he didn't think Jeremy had...

Of course, much of what his brother was like now had come to be, surely, from reactions to all the things that had happened, but what had Jeremy thought of his own position in the world before Everything had finished falling apart for them? And what did it mean, that Nathaniel could still picture Jeremy the way he had been Before, and he could not - as he had been taught he should be able to do with any and everyone - put any immediate label on him?

"That's...all very different from how I was brought up to see the world," he said cautiously. "I mean, I learned that everyone matters, too, of course, but...more in terms of who you serve, who serves you...where you fit. I'll think about your position, though," he promised, fairly sure he wouldn't be able to help it for a few days anyway.

He glanced up, startled, at her casual mention of seeing a therapist. He did, too, of course, one brought in for him specially, but he had never occurred to him to ever put it so bluntly to another person. He had slipped a little with Jeremy at Christmas, mentioning that he'd required medical attention after Everything had made him sick, but...

"I guess that's better than nothing," he said when Evelyn described the effects therapy had had on her. He didn't know what he could say for himself even had he been prepared to admit to his problems and resulting association with Dr. Greene, though... "I've never met anyone who actually said that about escaping your head, but I suppose it can be - helpful, sometimes, to sort your thoughts out with someone more...objective," he conceded. "Or at least...stop pretending a little, just for a moment."

He managed a slight smile back when Evelyn went on about writing him with life updates - in part because she had smiled, in part out of gratitude, and in part (rotten specimen though he felt he was to admit it even to himself) at the thought of Sylvia's expression if she could hear this conversation - it seemed that Sylvia was, in fact, always right, even when the topic was one she couldn't understand.

He felt a flicker of something - it wasn't anger. Not even really resentment...'defiance' was closer, though it didn't make much sense in context. Regardless of what it was, though - quite aside from him having no control over who sent him letters, why, exactly, was his mail any of anyone else's business?

"I'll get right on that," he said. And then, "Thank you."

He listened patiently, clasping his hands around one knee, as Evelyn confessed to her failures as a sister. His expression did not change when she admitted she'd hated one of her brothers at one point. Perhaps he should have judged her, but...

"That's always been a...point Jeremy and I haven't seen eye to eye on," he admitted when she pointed out that Jeremy was allowed to make choices, too. "Other than Sylvia, my family...doesn't have the best history of making good choices. I always worry...he's all that's left of my own family - us and our parents, I mean, so it's absolute hell sometimes, not being able to just - make him do the right thing, and not get in trouble, or make our uncle angry, or just think of himself all the time..."

He pressed his fingers into his eyes for a moment, allowing his thumbs to massage his temples. "I don't think I've ever hated Jeremy," he added thoughtfully as he looked up again. "I can name - " he silently named names in his head, ticking them off on his fingers - "three, maybe four people I've truly hated before, and I never felt anything like that about Jeremy....maybe I've resented him sometimes? I don't know. But we had a fight at Christmas - he thought I was going to leave the family - long story, but in that, he said to me that there was only one person in this school who wanted to be around him, and that it wasn't me. And I couldn't even honestly tell him that he was wrong. So I suppose I'm not very good at being a big brother, either," he admitted. "But I'm trying to do better. I suppose that's worth something, isn't it? To keep trying..."

16 Nathaniel Mordue Associating with people like me, on the other hand... 1412 0 5

Evelyn Stones

March 06, 2021 10:40 AM

Indeed, it does go against my social circle's norms. by Evelyn Stones

OOC: CW reference to past abuse BIC:

Evelyn resisted the urge to laugh when Nathaniel promised to think about her position, just because it was all so formal again. As if they were exchanging ideas across the tops of their newspapers, through the haze of cigar smoke, and not sitting here in the prefect lounge like a couple weirdos with baggage. Still, she appreciated that Nathaniel was generally, to her knowledge, an honest person and that he probably really would consider what she'd said. She hoped it stuck. She also didn't want to argue with him about having been raised to think everyone mattered because she was pretty sure he was excluding Muggles by default in that. She doubted it would have crossed his mind to say that magical and non-magical folks were equal at all, although perhaps that was more a matter of classism in some ways than racism. The role, the place where Muggles fit, was not with his ilk, to his mind. It was the deep-seated bigotry that meant that, for all Evelyn was an inappropriate friend for Nathaniel, he was also an inappropriate friend for her. Not that something like appropriateness was going to stop her from doing what she wanted if she was determined though.

"For what it's worth, I think you fit best wherever you shape yourself to go. It's up to you where that is." It was true, she couldn't quite see him joining a summer game of DnD with her other friends just yet, but perhaps, if he wanted to, he could be willing to fit there. It was a big ask but since she couldn't shape herself to fit into high society just by virtue of the blood in her veins, she firmly believed it was different. High society, Pureblood society, was an exclusive club based in things you couldn't change about yourself. Her society, whatever that meant, only required that you not be a jerk to people who were different than you.

She nodded at his reply about her therapy sessions, wondering whether he'd ever consider getting any sort of professional help himself. She shrugged. "Even a little is worth it I think. I think most people benefit from having someone to talk it out with," she agreed. Woo. Normalizing mental health treatments one awkward conversation at a time. Woo.

She did smile when he thanked her, though. It was probably just him being polite, but she liked to think that maybe it did matter to him that there was a sincere, open invitation to a world that wouldn't put him down for needing help sometimes.

It felt good to express her feelings about CJ and family and life a bit. She was pretty sure Heinrich knew and understood but he loved CJ so much now that she had a hard time not feeling guilty about some of the friction in her relationship with her brother. Ness didn't seem at all a fan of CJ and sometimes that was really gratifying but sometimes Evelyn felt a bit on the backstep, like she was meant to be defending the brother she didn't even know if she wanted sometimes still. Whatever she thought about him though, CJ was important to her. She'd even come to love him and cherish him. In some ways, his presence had probably saved her life on a few occasions and certainly her dad doing his best not to wake the young boy up had been part of the reason she'd made it out the last time she'd seen him. CJ would never know that had happened unless someone told him. What would he think, when he was older, about having been in the same room as all that going on and not even knowing? Telling Nathaniel a bit seemed to encourage him to open up, as she hoped it would, and she felt better for expressing it all, so she listened with the same patience and quiet understanding he'd offered her when it was his turn to speak.

"I think that's worth something," she agreed when he'd finished. It was really really easy to think of reasons not to want to be around Jeremy but she wasn't about to say that, and she knew it was different when obnoxious people were your family members. Especially when they were your only family members now. She couldn't quite relate in terms of CJ being her only family member from her nuclear family, mostly because she'd grown up functionally as an only child and now suddenly had a metric butt ton of siblings apparently, but also because CJ was just a wee thing and hadn't really been there to lose everything. He'd only known his mom for a few months at most. "I think that most siblings don't want to be around each other all the time from what I've seen," she pointed out, although she wasn't sure whether Heinrich and Hilda or Ness and Kir counted as examples of normal siblings. Maybe Ness and Kir, for all that they also were totally abnormal. "Sometimes, siblings are easier to love from a little further away," she added with a wry smile, pretty sure that if she spent more time with her toddler brother than she already did, she'd inevitably love him less. He was just so slimy.

"I am sorry you're hurting," she added more softly. "And that seeing your mom again today made you hurt more."

22 Evelyn Stones Indeed, it does go against my social circle's norms. 1422 0 5