[ ooc: Unleashing the beast first time in forever. Prepare your butts. (◡‿◡✿)
]
[glow=green]
⊱ Room of Requirement ⊰[/glow]
The Prefect seemed to be enthralled by the juicy red candy apple, her magenta eyes possessed by a greedy drunken gleam, the tears already drying on her cheeks after leaving a rather grotesque looking streaks on them with her mascara. Somehow it just ended highlighting her undead get up into a notch scarier one. However it seemed like his peace offering was enough to calm her, as the magical turbulence around them slowly died out and she reached slowly with shaking fingers to grab the sweet from him, and Sabrina did her best to caress her head and mumble sweet nothings to her. Jay was not entirely sure what to think about what just was about to go down; he had seen magic leaking out before, mostly in the younger kids, and as he was a prime example of one in such a late age due to his poor control over it and his emotions that tended to get the better of him. But he had never seen it before with such strength before. His came mostly in short aggressive minor bursts, and they were gone as fast as they came. But Anice's was more... Prominent. More present. Just...
more. And what he had seen, seemed to be only the prelude to the sleeping power slumbering in her, as this had felt somewhat sluggish. He would have lied if he would have claimed he was not tiny bit concerned of what she could be capable of when she was actually letting it out. However, as per usual, it was really none of his damn business. Even though he was curious as hell about it.
Then suddenly, just as he was about to let out a relieved sigh, it got stuck in his throat when the corpse girl suddenly went for a hug. And rather awkward one at that. Freezing up at the moment she was pressed against him, Jay who was crouching on the ground, nearly lost his balance as she was leaning on him now quite heavily. His hands flew up in surprise just as his eyebrows did, and he kind of stood there frozen like a salt statues while the girl mumbled her thank yous and sorries. The half-vampire let out a little strangled sound from the back of his throat where the earlier sigh had gotten stuck, feeling the tips of his ears start to heat up along with his cheeks, and his eyes darted up to Sabrina in half panic, as if pleading her to take Anice off him. The whole thing was just overall uncomfortable experience, the show of affection making him want to squirm, the really ample soft chest pushed flush against him which made Jay swallow and pray God to give him strength to
not look down. The Heavenly Father was surely testing his willpower right now.
Before he was going to crack under the pressure, Jay grabbed Anice by the shoulders and pushed her away from himself, keeping her in arm's length. Looking rather freaked out, the boy seemed to have hard time picking the right words, stumbling on his words before he breathed them out in one single word vomit.
"Eh, uhh... Y-you're welcome and d-don't sweat it!"
To be honest, he was not entirely sure what exactly the Runeswell girl had been thanking him for and what the apology was for. Maybe they were about the yesterday, maybe they were about the given moment. Who knew, maybe they were a little bit of both. But Jay did not really care, he just wanted her off him with those rather distracting... Well, yeah.
He scrambled quickly up from the floor, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, falling in silence when he did not know what to say. He tried to get his head back together, but the alcohol he had been consuming through the evening had sneaked up on him by now, and it felt like a nice warm buzz. He was not exactly drunk, maybe more like lightly tipsy, just enough for him to probably do something stupid out of impulse and then regret it the next day, if he was not careful. The Firewhisky could be tricky with its short bursts of bravery and moral lowering capability.
A clatter of goblets and shattering of glasses could be heard over the joyous crowd of people, but Jay did not really pay any mind to it first. To him it was just some drunken fool staggering in their own feet and managing to pull down a whole table with them, but it would be nothing that few well placed spells could not fix. But suddenly a voice boomed over all of the chatter, commanding the room with an amplifier charm. It made people turn their gazes towards it, Jay included, and he realized he was looking at Garaile Scriven standing on a table. One of Sabrina's vampire lackeys stood next to it, looking lost and panicky and unsure what to do with the drunken Weasel who was putting on his own show.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Garaile started solemnly, like he was about to announce the arrival of the Queen of England herself, bowed at his audience and continued,
"Hear me on! I shall now read you all a story that should be familiar to all!"
Jay frowned, glancing at Sabrina and cocking up his right eyebrow at her, like he was wordlessly asking if this was part of some of her plans that she simply had not let his vampiric friend on. He turned his sharp gaze back to the Scriven boy, warily, having an ominous feeling about the whole thing. He watched as his fellow Slytherin pulled out the trash tabloid that the infamous Weasel wrote himself, suddenly recalling their earlier brief discussion back in the Hospital Wing few hours earlier. Garaile's words from back then whispered to him from his subconscious like a den of venomous snakes.
"Are you accusing me for not doing my work?"
The heavy feeling in his stomach weighed like lead.
"To all my loyal readers, thank you for taking the effort to listen to me." Garaile continued on proudly and spread his arms wide, like he would have wanted to give everyone in the room one big choking hug.
"To these who haven't…" The boy chuckled and cast his gaze downwards, and Jay would have sworn the words were directed at him personally, even if Scriven never said his name or even looked at his direction. The amplified voice lowered a bit, giving the Weasel a darker, almost sinister edge.
"You will thank me later."
Jay did not take his gaze off the Scriven boy, and his fingertips twitched. If this was about the yesterday, he was quite sure that he could not really care less for whatever Garaile had to say about it. His pride was already in tatters, his arm was like a painful reminder of his stupidity, and everyone had seen him pass out like a fucking damsel in distress. He had already done all the damage himself, and surely even Garaile could not make it worse even further. And if he was lucky, maybe this was not about him at all. But instinct was telling him otherwise. Jayden Evedragomir was never that lucky. So rolling his shoulders back, Jay stood up straight, bracing himself for whatever roast that was about to come.
Garaile folded open the paper, taking his sweet time to drag on the moment. However, when he finally read out loud the article, it was like a punch into Jay's gut.
"Shocking: Is Jayden Everdragomir threatening girls into dating him?"
He stood there rigid, every muscle in his body tense as the words slowly started to register. People were turning to look at him, pointing their fingers, whispers and murmurs now taking over the mass of people in waves. He had never exactly been a fan of attention, but he had gotten used to most of the stares of scorn. But this... this was
beyond humiliating. And even though about ninety-nine percent of the student body knew that Scriven's paper was absolute rubbish, they were now lapping up his words like honey. Simply because it suited them and they enjoyed to see the Bulgarian Dragon squirm.
Couple of girls laughed in the crowd, but Jay could not see who it was.
A Ravenclaw boy few feet from him scoffed disgust.
Some drunken Gryffindor yelled an angry slur with his name attached to it.
He looked around, but only saw hostile expressions or pitying faces. Being under such heavy scrutiny, under such accusations made him feel like there was not enough air in the room. Panic was gripping him as he wondered for those brief seconds if he would forever be taken as some loser that did something so pathetic because he could not get anyone else otherwise, while Garaile proceeded on reading the article out loud. But in the midst of all the anxiety, he could not even hear a word.
But then the panic was wiped away with a shock of the thought that came upon him.
He was not the only one that was being trash talked here. Garaile was practically also writing about Kiyoko too.
And speak of the devil, the girl in question had meanwhile made her way to Garaile, her stomping steps powered by her fury. Jay watched as she grabbed the Weasel by the ankles, and yanked, pulling his legs from under him and making him fall on his bottom on the table. She growled something at him, but Jay could not hear it over the surprised gasps and murmurs of the people. And not over the high pitched buzzing sound in his ears that was now quickly drowning all the other sounds around him. Jay lowered his gaze, the dark bangs of his raven hair veiling away the expression of his eyes.
That little shit was embarrassing the only person he really cared about.
His breaths started growing more deeper, more controlled.
That piece of human trash was slandering her all over like she was a powerless victim.
A low, guttural predatory growl rose from him. The closest people turned to look at his direction, their faces blanching and they quickly took few steps away from him.
He did not really give a shit about himself that much. Maybe Jay would have simply ended up even brushing it off if it was only about himself, deciding it was not worth his time. But there was a line, and Garaile had crossed it.
And that motherfucker was going to pay for it with blood.
Raising his gaze now, the eyes flashing briefly with a crimson hue which was only a quick glimpse to everyone else around him for what Jayden Everdragomir was seeing right now; red haze. His mind was consumed by primitive rage, and Garaile Scriven had managed to let out the caged beast within him, that he had lately been carefully guarding under lock and key. And Jay was not going to take the responsibility for what it might do with its newly gained freedom.
He started taking slow steps forward, his eyes never leaving their target. Some people realized to step out of his way, but there were mostly the poor bastards that were more focused on the front and their backs were towards Jay who was making his way towards Garaile. The shadow cast behind him took gruesome forms that flickered like it had a life of its own, having an identity crisis if it was a trying represent a human boy or a beast. Jay lifted his healthy hand to untie his cape that fell from his shoulders, falling heavily on the ground, and now he advanced forwards wearing only all black. His steps were now picking up speed, and he pushed people out of his way. But when he was close enough, he decided the sea of people was slowing him down too much, as it was more packed towards the front where the show was taking place. So he took few running steps, and bounced, lithe and ferocious like a leopard, using a short Gryffindor boy as a stepping stool, who yelped in surprise and pain when his back and shoulders were pressed down with the sudden human weight. Before the said boy collapsed under him, the half-breed boy was already on the move, simply walking over couple of people and sending them stumbling backwards with shrieks. And then, he leaped.
Landing on the table on top of Garaile with a loud crash that sent the table screeching backwards on its feet, Jay placed his knees on both sides of the other Slytherin's sides, trapping him under him as his hands went for his throat and slammed the boy's head against the table. And there he stopped, staring Garaile in the eyes, his upper lip rolled up into a soundless snarl, revealing his teeth and sharp fangs like an angry dog. His bandaged arm was not sending any pain signals anymore, all the hurt forgotten completely when adrenaline was roaring in his veins like the mountain rapids.
And then, swiftly without much of a pause and before anyone could stop him, Jay had plunged his left fist into Garaile's face. He felt something crack under his knuckles, probably the boy's nose, and Jay felt a brief surge of sheer sadistic satisfaction. Blood sprayed around from the said nose, splattering the half-breed boy's face like a grotesque warpaint. And he
smirked, in a way that could only be described as chilling, wearing it with pride.
"...I hope you've had your fun, Scriven," Jay informed the boy with a broken nose as he sat a little back, still hovering over him, the tone of his voice sinister just how much pleasure he was taking for getting to punish the other,
"Because I'll be making sure you won't be writing for awhile."
And on cue, he reached to grab Garaile's right hand by the wrist with both hands, and snapped the bones loud and clear.
