forum boarding school dark academia murder mystery queer love triangle rp (closed, but feel free to stalk <3)

Started April 13, 2020 by @darling-velocipede group

tune

(personally, i’m just playing it all by ear lol so i’m gonna roll with it unless velicopede has other plans)

Kate was actually grateful for the distraction of the clock being out of place. Her heart was in her throat and every time she searched something her gaze seemed to find it’s way back to Leon. She had to stop being so obvious, so she really put herself into searching the second she noticed the clock. It being oddly well kept was just a bonus.

“This is weird as hell,” she added, staring at it in thought. Staring at the clock was certainly easier than looking at Leon and hoping the other girl didn’t see the dumb expression on Kate’s face. Her crush was probably the one thing that she had gotten good at hiding.

“Yeah, but do you think this could relate to the murder?” Leon asked, her words bringing Kate back to the subject at hand. “It’s certainly odd, but what does this clock mean?”

“Maybe the man really loved clocks?” Kate joked weakly. “And put it in his will to be cleaned?” Leon gave her a look and she shook her head. “Okay, this is certainly sketchy. Zephyr might know something, since he is our resident bibliophile and the person who found this mystery. You can’t tell me this isn’t just like an episode of Scooby Doo.” Leon laughed lightly at that, and a swell of pride blossomed in Kate’s chest before she managed to tamp it down. Zephyr might help her focus on something besides the beautiful girl next to her.

“Let’s go get him, then,” Leon agreed, and the two girls went back to the living room where Zephyr had stayed. Kate wondered why he hadn’t just followed them. Maybe she had unintentionally been rude to him. Okay, maybe only partially unintentionally. Unless he was still being weird about her dick joke. She shrugged it off.

“Hey, Zephyr, have you found anything yet? Kate discovered this grandfather clock that is suspiciously well kept for such a run-down place,” Leon informed Zephyr, the boy in question lifting his head from where he’d been inspecting the couch cushions.

“What do you mean?” Zephyr asked. “Well kept like polished?”

“And perfectly on time,” Kate added. “Come on, we’ll show you.” She actually was getting a bit excited, and a bit nervous (though she had been a bit nervous since stepping foot in this house). She did her best to hide it, though the others could probably see through her bravado anyway.

"So the whole top floor of this house is exactly as the man left it half a century ago, despite there having been multiple residents between now and then, and you two are worried about a shiny clock?" Zephyr looked from Kate's face to Leon's, eyes flickering wildly around the room in disbelief. Most everything was blanketed in a gratuitous layer of dust and some of the books seemed like their pages would crumble from their bindings with a touch, but everything was here. He pulled open the closet and found it full of clothes; slid open the bedside drawer to reveal scattered pens and bookmarks. And, in the back corner, a well traveled notebook.
It was a crimson shade of red, neatly marked about halfway through with a dark ribbon that had frayed to silken threads at the bottom. All the pages up to the marker were filled with flowing cursive, looping "y"s and "g"s, punctuated by the occasional sketch of a face, diagram, or statue. They were precise and unemotional, clearly the works of a scholar rather than an artist, but they captured their subject well– even in his brief flip through the pages Zephyr had spotted Michelangelo's David at least three times. Though far messier than he'd ever allow his own notebooks to become, he felt an uncomfortable pang of connection to the man. The dead man.
Eager to get the tome out of his hands, he distractedly thrust it at Leon and went back to the drawer. Nothing else of much mystery-solving value was inside, but there was a fancy fountain pen, the kind that could cost upward of $30. Without a second thought, he pocketed it when no one else was looking.
"The inside of the cover says this is volume 18," Leon said softly, startling Zephyr.
"He probably has the others somewhere in here then."
"The other whats?" Blurted Kate from inside the closet. Pulling herself out, she tossed her head of gold-strung hair impatiently. It shone in the light and Zephyr found himself all too transfixed. "I get you've been in full on detective mode, but you could at least explain what you've found."
"A notebook. Maybe a diary?" He brushed her off, sharply adverting his eyes.
"And you said there were others, Lee?"
"Yes, somewhere, hopefully. I don't know if these are the kind of things people keep but-"
"Found 'em." As Leon spoke, Kate had ducked back into the closet and now emerged with a large cardboard box of books of the same size in varying shades of red and purple. Leon beamed.
"We should probably get out of here before the storm breaks," Kate said lazily as she sat down on the bed, rusted springs creaking under her weight. "The ghosts probably come out when the sky gets dark."
"Fine by me," muttered Zephyr. "I have a science paper due tomorrow, so I should really get home. I'll take the journals and we can read through them together when we get a chance." Zephyr, in fact, had no such paper due any time. But he wanted his apartment, his order, his quiet. And a moment to look through the diaries on his own.
"But my dear Zephyr," Kate smirked. "We're real detectives now. There is, to put it professionally, some weird shit going down, and we discovered it. I think that's deserving of a party, at the very least."
Parties with just the three of them were an odd affair, far from the parties Zephyr imagined his more sociable classmates might attend, but strangely enjoyable nonetheless. Until last time when Zephyr emerged from his room in the morning clad in pajama pants and shirtless beside's his binder to find Kate sprawled across the couch, fast asleep. Morning sun was spilling through the uncurtained windows, falling across her face. She looked far gentler than she ever did awake, bordering angelic. Zephyr had barricaded himself in his room, ignoring her knocks on his bedroom door (to apologize for falling asleep? to ask him to join her for breakfast?) until he heard her footsteps move away and the front door click shut behind her. He'd decided after that that it might be best if there weren't any more parties at all.
That had been a month ago and he'd dodged them all since with one paper-thin excuse or another. This time, though, Kate looked determined and Leon certainly wasn't helping.
"You're right, Kate. We should do something. It's only Saturday, and we should be living it up." Irony painted her last words; a rare occurrence to say the least.
"Like an after school special on the dangers of teen drinking," Kate agreed. "Red plastic cups, the like. But of course, Zephyr is far too classy for that. We'll drink from crystal goblets instead." Evidently sensing his hesitation, her face and manor softened. "Come on, Zeph. I know you don't have a headache, or whatever bullshit you're about to claim. I'll bring alcohol and snacks and we can talk about philosophers or the history of air travel or whatever you're reading about. And you said it yourself. I quote: 'being wine drunk is fun cause you get intellectual and horny'."
"I'm quite sure I was already drunk when I said that." He frowned, but his resolve was melting.
"I'll see you at 9." It was Leon who solidified the plan, handing Zephyr back his coat and making for the door. Kate swiftly copied her steps, and Zephyr was just glad not to have to be alone with her. He took one last look around the apartment. In his pocket, the dead man's pen weighed heavy.

Leon hated parties. But she’d never admit it. Just… the bright lights, the dancing, the heat, the alcohol, the smoke… It was like a headache but in situation form.
That’s to say, the parties between the three were never like that.
She hated them much less, even going as far as to say she liked them from time to time.
But ever since those stupid butterflies made themselves known, she had despised them.
Even so, she gave a smile and pushed through the door, holding it out on its creaky hinges until they all exited. She put her hands on either of their shoulders, squeezing them slightly.
“Catch you both later,” she said softly. “Maybe I’ll make myself look more presentable this time.”
“Really?” Kate asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow.
Lee smiled brighter. “No promises. Probably shouldn’t count on it.”
She gave one last small shake to their shoulders, tuning to walk back down the way she had come; back down to the cafe. Zephyr gave a small wave as she turned, and Kate just shifted her weight with her arms crossed in front, still holding that teasing smile. Leon, yet again, had to resist the urge to scream. The voice in her heart was going absolute ham, but she shut it out as best she could.
The sun sunk lower into the streets, casting that same comforting orange glow. Her footsteps echoed on the somewhat empty streets. She stuffed her hands back in her jacket pockets, noticing how much colder it was without Zephyr’s jacket.
Multiple questions popped up about the subject, but she shoved them all back one by one.
It hadn’t meant anything. Anything at all.
It didn’t take long for her to get back to her apartment. It was a studio, the cheapest one she could afford. It had been a recent move-in, so the decorating was slow-going, and she was the one that made most of it. She had bought dollar-store lights and a small book light as the only lamps, just keeping her windows open for light during the day.
She slipped through the door, breathing in the lilac flowers she kept in a vase by the door. Well… more of a cup, but she had painted it to look more presentable.
Lee shut and locked the door behind her, not even a foot in and beginning to put on music. It was a chill folk and indie station that reminded her of the cafe, but much more woodsy. The acoustic guitar at least calmed her nerves. Well… not that she’d admit she’d had any.

She brushed past the paintings still laying on the floor and stood in the middle of her room, just staring at the floor. Her mind was completely blank, not even knowing what to think. Finally pushing back the immature notion, she sat on her bed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
Things would get easier, right? Not that today had been any indication.
The music added to the mood too well, so she flipped on a different station. It was more upbeat, but still, every single one was a love song.
She finally grit her teeth and pushed pause, spending the rest of the next few hours in total silence.
Something she hated about as much as those butterflies.

After a brief moment of awkward silence, Kate turned to Zephyr. “Well, see you soon,” she said, giving him a small smile. Some people gave out smiles as often as they breathed, but Kate reserved her smiles for moments that she felt deserved them. Kate was careful that way, as if saving her expressions and words would make them mean more. She was actually quite glad to have her friends, and she decided that no matter how many petty fights she got into with them (them mostly being Zephyr), she would not let this year go to waste. She’d been saving her last year here, just like she saved everything else.

She waved before walking back to her apartment. It was nice enough, as Kate’s father was not poor by any means, but it was lonely and empty. Kate had hung up a few posters and photos, but it didn’t seem to do anything for the boring room. She wasn’t even sure if her friends knew how deeply lonely she felt when they weren’t around. It was part of the reason she had suggested the party after all, besides the obvious one of wanting to have a fun senior year. She’d never been good at making friends that were more than just surface level, but Kate didn’t mind not being popular or invited to lots of parties. She’d been there and done that, and it wasn’t nearly as much fun as having a party with just Zephyr and Leon.

Even if her own heart was being strange around Leon, she still had more fun with those two than anyone else. She sighed, thinking back to her first year at the school. She’d thought that being popular and going to parties would make up for the ache in her chest that hadn’t still fully healed. But she’d been a bitch that year, and before it was up, she realized that none of those friends really cared about her. Then she started being more careful, saving more. She smiled at the pictures on her wall, getting nostalgic at the fact that soon she, Zephyr, and Leon would all be going their separate ways. She would make this the best party yet.

(sorry its short hahah)

Kate and Leon showed up, as promised, at nine. Kate and Leon also showed up, unexpectedly, together. This caught Zephyr off guard enough for him to leave the two locked outside for a moment longer than necessary, shouting out to them that he needed "just a second," which was true, in some ways. He stood in front of the tarnished brass mirror he'd found in an antique shop back home and put an unholy amount of effort into lugging to his school when he moved back in for the semester, and began to meticulously comb his hair. It was getting longer than he cared for; he'd have to have it cut soon. He hadn't had it much past his ears since he was eight years old, in third grade, and called Flora. He'd hacked it all off with safety scissors during class one day and his panicked teacher had sent him home, where his bewildered parents exiled him to his bedroom for the afternoon. Not for cutting his hair, of course, they couldn't care less about that, but for behaving so wildly in class. He'd used that time to shred his holiday dress as well, ripping the gauzy green thing into long, thin strips, leaving pieces scattered across his carpet. They'd never made him dress femininely again. Looking in this mirror, he could already feel the old discomfort creeping back– his jawline was too round, shoulders too slim. Stomach aching and skin creeping, he tore himself from the mirror as he chided himself on what a waste of time it was to stand there and hate his body. Kate and Leon filed in the second the door was opened, shivering. He felt a taint of remorse for leaving them in the frigid hallway as a biting lick of cold followed them in. Fall in Massachusetts was often like this; warm morning and rainy afternoon tailed by a night that made itself blizzard-freezing, despite the clear skies. Kate kept glancing guiltily at Leon, who was rubbing her arms through her bomber jacket, then down at her own thick, woolen winter coat. Still, Kate had made no move to offer her her own.
Scared to steal my move, Zephyr thought smugly. Not that it had been a "move" when he gave Leon his own jacket earlier, not in any way. There was something about Kate that scared him, something in her laugh that made heat grow in his face and ice tumble down his back, but Leon wasn't like that. She was objectively fine looking and objectively kind. Too good for either of us, he'd thought on more than one occasion. Her compassion was wasted on him and Kate both. Yet she stayed, and for that, though he'd never been able to put it into words Zephyr loved her. He loved her in a soft, uncomplicated way, one built in time mixed with gratitude and friendship. In all truth, there was nothing more there.
Kate had brought wine and beer as promised, and Leon clutched a giant bag of popcorn– the kind sold by the street vendor at the corner of campus, giant, cheap, buttery, and extravagant in volume. For an awkward second, Zephyr just hovered.
"Does anyone want tea?"
"Oh, please." Kate rolled her eyes. "Just get the glasses."
Zephyr pulled them one by one from the high shelf above his sink– three elegant, long-stemmed wine glasses that grew into complicated fractal patterns at the top. Kate had found them in a thrift shop and proudly presented them to Zephyr for these very occasions.
The ice around them melted as soon as the glasses were filled, and everything about the evening began to sparkle, perfect and warm. I try to be honest as your narrator, friends, present you with every detail as is my humble work, make myself inseparable from the web of words I tie for you. But here, this illusion will break, for reasons of ethics. I cannot tell you of the three's party in respect for them, their rituals, the very glimmer and promise of being young. What I can tell you is how Zephyr recounted, with theatrical arm motions punctuating his excited monologue, the travels of Jean de Boisduval, a scientist he'd found himself fascinated by. I can tell you how Kate screeched with delight and amazement as Leon flipped through her phone to show her images of a few recently completed paintings. I can tell you that it looked like a movie scene, and they'd all forgotten how temporary it was. I can tell you that it was nearly four in the morning, and everyone had had so much to drink. Above them, the bare, dim, filament light bulbs looked like stars.
Imagine you are Zephyr for a moment, if you'll humor me. Imagine you excuse yourself to use the restroom but instead go to your bedroom and lock the door. You sit on your bed, staring at your palms, transfixed by the endless criss-crossing lines. You are a practical person, a science person, but they seem for a moment like a road map of where you've been. You are so young, waiting on the end while barely passed the starting line. Suddenly, you are bold and decide to tell Kate everything, it seems only natural, to reach out and touch her freckled shoulder, to see her beautiful, cursed eyes. For a moment, you aren't scared. So you leave your bedroom, return to the living room. Your foot crosses the threshold at the exact moment Kate's lips meet Leon and stay there, eyes closed. They melt into each other, and you are quiet, and all you can think is how it's very late, past three AM, and you need some rest and they need some rest and you feel sick. Then so sad. Then so stupid. Then nothing at all.
"I think, somehow, I always knew," you mutter, Zephyr mutters. Kate and Leon pull apart like a gun shot went off.
Kate looks right into Zephyr's eyes.
Still, he feels nothing at all.

It was hard to see. Hard to breathe. Hard to function.
Thoughts swirled around in Leon’s head as she struggled to keep her eyes open. The tangy fiery scent of alcohol was too strong for the situation to be a dream, yet everything felt that way. It was like if she held up her hands they would be miles away. Even looking up at the young boy in front of her, he seemed too far. The girl next to her seemed far. Everyone was gone, and she was alone with this deep dark ocean.
Wave after wave, emotion came crashing. Her stomach churned about as wildly, unsure if it was the many glasses of wine or the fact that she was absolutely and utterly terrified. Her head pounded with each knock of a wave, another drop of water just adding to the reckless sea of thoughts.
And for the first time, she was seeing so clearly yet so blurry at the same time.
She was frozen in fear— in dread. If her heart hadn’t been pushed so far down, it would have kept sinking as she saw Zephyr’s empty eyes. Yet, admitting she was scared— finally showing it— housed the slightest bit of comfort.
She felt so cold. Her skin looked paler and she felt sick to her core, feeling the shivers slowly take over her body. She opened her mouth to speak, but her numb lips held no room for conversation.
Yet, as she looked from Zephyr to Kate, to her own legs criss-crossed below her, she wondered if it had actually happened. Being wasted never sided with her— not like it sided with anyone else, but Leon especially. She had quite the vivid imagination. Zephyr had gone to the restroom. She and Kate had just talked. Talked, and nothing else. The entire situation was a figment of her mind. It had to be. She pleaded it to be.
Still, her lips were numb, and Kate’s hand rested on her own… well, both saying otherwise.
With a deep, shaky breath, she raised her eyes back to Zephyr. The only light was that of the dim bulbs overhead, casting a deep shadow on his solemn face. And there, Leon had another reason to be absolutely terrified.
Not of him. Of losing him.
She had never had the slightest inkling of Zephyr possibly liking Kate. But, then again, all of those times they spent bickering, all of those times Zephyr claimed he had to leave early… and simply, the way he looked at her.
Leon had never been one to cuss openly. Yet, if anyone were to read her mind, they would be thoroughly versed in every single form of cursing and profane language. She brutally recited each one in her own favor, like a nail-gun straight to the head. One after the other, each jabbing just as deep as the previous one.
She wanted to apologize, but at the same time, say just how terribly confused she was. Blame it all on the delusion of a sleepless night and too many glasses. Too many glasses.
Even with the entire ocean spilling over in her head, the waves crashing tirelessly and brutally, the only words she could muster aloud were:
“Are you okay?”

Why had she done this? Kate barely even remembered the moment that she'd decided to kiss Leon, but the second that she met eyes with Zephyr her excitement from the moment was replaced by a sickening dread. That look in his eyes…betrayal was the only word that Kate could use for it, though she had no idea why. If anything, she had thought that Zephyr hated her recently. Of course it wasn't about her. He was jealous of her. She saw how kind he was with Leon, and cursed herself internally. That had to be it; Zephyr was in love in with Leon too. At the sound of Leon's voice, both Zephyr and Kate blinked, out of their momentary trance.

The girl's voice was light and soft, like a warm ray of sunshine. Too good for either of us, Kate thought, biting her lip. Zephyr's eyes narrowed as he glanced between the girls. Suddenly everything that Kate did felt incriminating. Even her very presence was incriminating. This was all her fault. She felt awful, unshed tears stinging her eyes. This whole friendship was the only thing good in her life and she had ruined it just like she ruined everything else. The alcohol tended to make her dramatic, but at this moment she wholeheartedly believed that thought. Before Zephyr could make some attempt at denying his obvious pain or, even worse, admit how horridly betrayed he felt, Kate spoke up.

"I should probably go," she muttered, standing up and throwing on her jacket, which lay discarded on the floor. She tried to muster whatever shred of dignity she had left, adjusting her hair or clothes to fix the disheveled look of someone who hadn't thought of her appearance in a several hours. Zephyr still had that awful look on his face, and Kate couldn't see it any longer. She stood in the doorway for a few tense moments, unsure as she looked at the faces of her only friends before walking out. She wanted to apologize but didn't know the words, replaying Zephyr's expression over and over in her mind as she stormed off down the hall.

Don't cry don't cry don't cry, she begged herself, though of course no one was there to see anyway. She had finally got what she wanted and destroyed their friendship in the process. Let Zephyr and Leon reconcile over how awful she was; they deserved better anyway. Before she knew it, her cheeks were wet. Awesome. Just awesome.

(sorry it took me so long but i am happy to announce my classes are basically over now so i will be able to respond a lot faster now!)

Kate had jostled her glass from the coffee table as she left and it had shattered, icing the hardwood floor with minuscule shards of glittering crystal, matching Leon's eyes as they sparkled with tears, her lips sealed and quivering. The glass had been empty, but all Zephyr had on his mind was getting the dustpan from under the sink and cleaning it up. He needed it to be clean. Neat. Quiet. He looked up sharply at Leon.
"You should go." Her hands were shaking slightly, not that Zephyr noticed. "It's late. Go home." He didn't realize just how commandingly he spoke until it was too late. She rose stiffly and walked out, not so much as glancing back at him, shutting the door with perhaps more force than necessary. He didn't care, already on his hands and knees, brushing up pieces. It will be good when it's clean, his mind echoed. Everything will be fine when the floor is clean. Make the floor clean. In moments his hands were full of the pieces, a thousand little diamonds like snow, like tears. Fucking dramatic, his brain declared. Why would you care. He didn't notice how they'd cut him until he'd thrown them into the bin, so many tiny slices across his palms. Why would you care. He'd forgotten that things could cut him. He'd forgotten how soft skin was.
Half an hour later he waited in bed, back rail straight, eyes unfocused, absently sweeping his sloppily bandaged hands over his hair again and again. Something in him ached, and there had to be a way to fix it, so he took the electric clippers from the bathroom cabinet and made direct eye contact with himself in the mirror, cursing himself, his friends, every god he could think of as he shaved away every lock of his own hair, leaving only a coarse sheath of maybe a fourth inch. Everything still hurt. Returning to bed, he waited there, unsleeping, until the first rays of dawn peeled from the horizon, illuminating an impenetrable old-cotton sky. Only then did he cry, hating every hot tear. Fucking dramatic, he thought. Why would you care. Boys don't cry. Why would you care. Something in this internal chanting lulled him away from the world, into one of dreamless rest, a welcome void. Fucking dramatic.

As previously stated, Leon wasn’t one to cuss. In fact, she refrained from it most times, even when she wanted to.
She had recited every single one in her mind before, but as she walked the street back to the apartment, she had the pleasure of saying them aloud. Not necessarily loudly, but loud enough to send chills down her own spine, and possibly any person lurking in the dark. They were fueled with fire, each one more brutal, more ruthless than the last. Each one filled with absolute hatred for her very being, and each one said with more truth than the words stringlessly said at weddings when the two genuinely loved one another. The “I do’s” housed little truth compared to the profane words she spat, almost able to see them coil in the air as if speaking them directly into existence.
She lived in the more “beaten-down” part of town, but based on the game she was talking, they would most likely steer clear. Maybe it was her tired eyes. The way they sat beneath her narrowed brows, sunken and staring holes into the ground. Maybe it was the fire from her tongue, or the clenched fists by her side. Or the absolute furious anger she radiated. Never before had she felt like this. But she was in too far to understand the feeling was useless. Nothing could win back Zephyr.
Even as she pushed open her door and shut it forcefully behind her, locking it, her mind was racing with ways she could make it up to him. Maybe it was the traces of alcohol that gave her false hope.
But what if she got him a kitten? A small, black and white kitten, and named it Charles Darwin. Like the man who researched the concept of evolution. He might enjoy that.
Even so… she couldn’t afford it. Even as a gift. She had to supply herself long enough to reach her goal of a plane ticket back home by the end of the year. Not to mention the proper transportation, because lord knew she didn’t have a car. Nor a bike. It was her feet and worn shoes. That was it.
With a sudden thought, her furious ocean of a mind calmed. This was a solution. A perfect one.
Slowly she walked around to her diminutive desk, starting up her old computer. The thing was junk, but worked well enough.
The decision was impulsive, yes. Extremely so. But she didn’t want to justify herself. Kate and Zephyr could be together. And Leon wouldn’t have to get in the way anymore. Or, at least, in a month.
Not to mention, this way she could afford it. Working duel jobs and eating just little enough to sustain her well-being, this could work. And school wouldn’t be an issue. She was far ahead anyway, and on all of the staff’s good side.
With a few swift clicks and terrible judgement, as well as a mind filled with emotion… the deed was done.
Her computer lit up with the receipt.
Leaving in just four weeks.
A single ticket to Portland International Airport.