LEMONY SNICKET has 73 posts and 150 galleons. SONNET is Offline.
ghoul studies prof.
YSMAEL JULIUS AURION
GHOUL STUDIES PROF.
MALE ( HE / HIM )
6 FEET, 0 INCHES
butternut, manti hrrrtstrng, 11"
, be nice to her
+ wandless magic
+ hogwarts wireless network sponsor
POTENTIAL TW — POSSESSION
Ysmael hears his mum answer the door downstairs—"Who? Oh, my!"—when Abaven Aurion appears at the foot of his bed.
Now, this Abaven, Ysmael's dearest cousin, was Yssy's very first ghoul. Ignatius spoke metaphorically of ghosts, saying that this family, this damned family, why, it is chock-full of ghosts!
But this? "Wow," Ysmael breathes. Abaven's blonde hair is gray and murky, but no signs of death show. "Ven, is that...?"
( Abaven Aurion, beaten to death by his father for—well, why would they tell a child? )
Gray eyes flick to Ysmael's, his lip bitterly furled, and he grips Ysmael's duvet, launching himself onto it, slipping into Ysmael's veins like—oh, like—! Ysmael whimpers, then goes quiet, back arched off his bed as he quivers with the rush.
Ysabel, teary-eyed, finds her son ghost-white on his bed, short fingers feeling the flesh of his face before scratching red-hot lines down the skin.
"Ysmael!" She shrieks.
Ysmael contorts, body shifting into Abaven's as he tells Ysabel, "Quiet, you fucking cunt."
( He remembers it burning. Ysmael wakes, covered in sweat, and sees a woman veiled in black, a velvet pouch in her palm as she walks out the door. )
Ysmael follows after the Grey Lady shouting, yelling, "Wait, wait! I've lost my glasses, Helena!"
( The Grey Lady, they say, is helpful when you've lost something; is particularly kind to those belonging to her house. )
She doesn't turn until he misses a step, toppling forward, wide palms smacking the stone floor of the Astronomy Tower. "My," she breathes, big dress turning as she faces him, "you should have said so, Mister Aurion."
Ysmael's gaze tips sharply up—I did, he thinks—but he smooths his expression and says, "Thank you, Grey Lady."
"Helena," she snips, and Ysmael bows his head. He knows that. Wanted to fluster her, to see if he could.
( "Our Ysmael—why, his very first love was the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw! And what taste, too," Ignatius says. "Who wouldn't love the lady of Ravenclaw house?" )
Ysmael answers half of his wife's letters while in Prague.
( No, he writes, you will not name our daughter 'Ocean,' Isadora. )
Over the radio: Ghoul expert Ysmael Aurion visits us today for some ghost stories, everyone!
Ysmael flicks cigarette ash out a slender window, his own voice rumbling low in the background, softened by radio fuzz. His gaze tips to the streets below and wonders who, among the living, fears the dead.
Under setting light, Ysmael shifts his tattoos, fanning an eyeball's lashes to echo the sun.
"...My, my..." He hears in patches. "The ... swooped, teeth ... there, lifeless, last breath ... as a lover's laugh."
When Ysmael stirs, he reaches for the warm glass of whiskey on an unfamiliar bedside table, because there is only that to do when one cheats on their wife, you see.
An owl pecks at a window on the far side of the room. With a groan, Ysmael throws the duvet off him, carrying the glass in one hand as he crosses over.
"What," he grumbles, swinging the window open for the owl, who hands him quite the bulbous letter. All of Edinburgh stares at his chest from outside: the tattooed patterns and shapes that decorate it.
( Edinburgh welcomes you, the banner said in the entrance hall. Ysmael Aurion — SOLD OUT. )
I would like to file for a divorce, the letter says. Please sign the necessary papers.
With a sip from his glass, Ysmael wrinkles his nose. Not home enough, it says. Distant, it says. Unhappy, it says.
"What's it, love?" A voice calls. Ysmael tosses the rest of the whiskey onto the streets below, then shuts the window, catching sight of the owl's wings between looming clouds.
Ysmael knows shadow like waves know the shore, and so, his office bathes only in lantern light and the mouths of moonbeams—once they make it past the overfilled ash tray in the window, that is.
Bao's thin tail flicks by the bookcase, looking almost like the slender, bony finger of a reaper. Ysmael thinks this. Once the thought passes, he breathes a humorless laugh into his cold-as-creek-water tea and drops his feet to the floor from his desk. Bao mewls grumpily.
"Fuck me," Ysmael mutters, then thumbs the first essay off the stack, dumping his tea into his dying office ficus.
+ ravenclaw alumnus.
+ has one daughter, already graduated.
+ started teaching in the 2017—2018 school year.
+ well-known story teller and lecturer in the wizarding world.
+ published author. considered a ghost / poltergeist expert.
+ doesn't sleep well, easily gets sick. believed to be a symptom of his possession earlier in life.
portrayed by CECIL PALMER from WTNV
posted Feb 2 2018, 01:01 PM report