24 Mar 2020, 07:41
Crippled inside
Set after this thread.
Lydia didn't know for how long she had been running. Minutes probably, even though for her it felt like hours and seconds at the same time. She was feeling so cold, completely drenched by the rain, her hair sticking to her face as the strong wind moved them in all the directions as the girl made her way towards the Great Lake. Unconsciously, she wanted to go to the closest thing to the beach that she could find, and the lake was just perfect for that.
Since she was little, Lydia's favourite spot in the world was the beach; she would spend hours and hours playing with other kids, and even by herself, throwing rocks over the water, exploring or simply walking with her feet in the sea. It had always brought her a sense of peace, of calm, being close to the water, and she hoped that the Great Lake would have done the same.
The air was so cold outside, it burned inside her lungs with every breath she took, but she didn't want to stop.
She couldn't stop.
Because stopping meant that she had to deal with the pain she was feeling, with that sense of void she had in the middle of her chest. It felt as if she was missing something, as if she had a hole that kept digging and digging inside of her, making her gasp for air often, even though she was running.
She wasn't paying that much attention to her surroundings, her wet eyes focused on the lake, so when the ground started being properly downhill, she kept running as if it wasn't and soon, without any chance of avoiding it, she slipped and fell on her bum, mud covering her jeans and the lower part of her jumper. Lydia took a deep breath, the shock of the fall making her a little disoriented, and then got back up on her feet.
This time she proceeded carefully, still running, until she finally reached the shore of the lake.
In the gloomy morning light the water looked extremely dark, almost black, and for a small second Lydia felt the urge to jump inside. She quickly pushed that thought aside as she shook her head, before she made her way towards a rocky part of the beach, where big rocks were one over the other. She knew she had to keep moving, that if she would have simply stopped she would have started to feel too cold, since she was drenched and without a jacket.
Lydia started climbing on the rocks, aiming more to move further in rather than going up, but it wasn't easy: the surface was really slippery from the rain and the moss, and the gloomy light certainly didn't help. She tried to be as careful as she could be, checking twice where she was putting her feet before proceeding on the next step, but all of a sudden she felt her muddy shoe slide over the surface of one of the rocks, and she had just the time to put her hands in front of her, before she felt a pain in her right knee and over the palms of her hands.
She mentally cursed, as she slowly sat down and examined the situation: the palms of her hands were slightly bloody, little cuts on the surface, but they weren't that bad; her knee was bloodier, but it wasn't that bad either, there were just a big cut with little ones scattered around, and if Lydia was being honest, she was more upset that she had ruined one of her favourite pair of jeans.
She quickly wiped her hands on the parts of her clothes that weren't covered in mud, before she took a deep breath. It felt so peaceful around her, with no other sound except that the rain hitting the surface of the water and of the rocks, and she wished she could bring that sense of calm inside of her. Lydia brought her knees up to her chest, with some complaining coming fro her right one as she bended it, and she wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them.
She stared at the water, her gaze fixed on one spot, as silent tears started running again down her cheeks.
The picture of her mom in her Ravenclaw clothes was stuck in her mind, tormenting her, almost mocking her. She just couldn't understand why. Why did they lie to her, why keeping such a big part of their life, of who Lydia was, a secret? She trusted her parents more than anyone else, they were her rock, her solid ground under her feet.
But now that very same ground had crumbled under her, making her fall into what felt like a never-ending fall into a deep, dark hole. The pain and void in the middle of her chest kept getting deeper, bigger, colder, and Lydia hugged her legs even stronger, before she rested her head on them as well.
She wished she had never entered that room, if it wasn't for her curiosity she would have never seen the picture, and she would still be happy and painless.
The rain kept pouring down on her, but Lydia didn't care. She knew she probably looked a mess, with dirty, wet clothes, mud everywhere, even in her hair, but she really couldn't care less. All that she wanted was for that painful void to disappear.
@Rafael D'Spacito
Last edited by Lydia Cooper on 4 May 2020, 22:45, edited 1 time in total.
"Everything beautiful is ruined eventually."
|| PART VEELA || ALLURING || LOVELY CREATURE || SCREAM
24 Mar 2020, 15:36
Crippled inside
@Lydia Cooper
[font=Segoe Print]Hogwarts had been cursed with many a dreary day as of late, as the skies had been dark with the tears of mother nature, ominous storm clouds forever looming overhead in the humid air, giving birth to thick sheets of cold, unforgiving rain that fell upon the lively-green March grass like metal pellets, drilling into the grounds and anyone unlucky to traverse them on such a day. Which, to some, may have seemed like a terribly dreadful thing, the universe’s way of unleashing its anger on the innocent children of the wizard school. However, it was hard for Rafael to think such thoughts. April, it seemed, was on her merry way, bringing on her return journey warm air and beautiful blossoms, butterflies and bluebirds inhabiting the air in her wake, a perfect portrait of tranquility. Peace, he had long since learned, always followed the storm, as even nature eventually ran out of hatred to give. The universe was a fickle thing. However, he would surely make peace with its forces someday, later in his life, when he himself had no more hatred to give. An interesting concept, one the boy had entertained himself with many a long night.
However, no matter how much Rafael could appreciate the transition of seasons, he’d never really gotten used to flying in the rain. It was certainly less than ideal, as anyone who had learned anything about such a sport could surely tell – he supposed life was seldom easy, having been riddled with mysteries and discord alike. He couldn’t expect any less out of the dreary weather, for the stakes had always been against the boy and his likes, cursing such children in eternal bad luck. He would pay no mind, however, to the boundaries set by destiny. He’d always been a rule breaker. If he were to succumb to fate, then where would he go? Yes, the thought certainly got his gears turning, his mind floating off to unknown places, never to be retrieved. What were the boundaries of destiny? What was out there, just out of reach?
Such thoughts had been reverberating around the expanses of his mind as he exited the locker rooms, a fresh change of clothes on his back as he treaded tiredly across the pavements of the bare halls. His face was wet – he couldn’t be sure if it was more of his own sweat, or the rain that had clouded his vision so acutely – as was his hair, slicked back by his own hand in order to keep the locks out of his eyes. He’d just finished his practice, one of the more ambitious ones, he’d be proudly to state. Had gotten fed up with just practicing his throwing – and had whipped a beaters’ bat out. Which left him to wonder, if chaser was really a position for him. He was strong yes, and verily so, much stronger than most of their beaters, in the least. However, he would most likely never get to execute this affinity on the field, except in the case of blatching – a move he would seldom ever stoop low enough to use.
He’d stopped at the entrance to the courtyard, his eyes gazing out into the billowing rain, the noises of thunder striking his ears, the storm breeze piercing his nose as he gazed out into the mess of nature, a perfect disharmony created by her skilled hand. There was something positively peaceful about the whole setting – Rafael closed his eyes, allowing the storm to take ahold of his senses, its rage, it’s power. There were some things that were peaceful in ways that were positively impossible to explain – the unforgiving storm was unexplainable to Rafael in the most acute, indescribable way. It was perfect. It was dangerous. It was a wave of comfort, washing over his sense, bringing him complete and utter peace.
He opened his eyes, taking in the disharmony for a moment more, before – wait.
His eyes brushed against a striking color of yellow, a contrast to the deep blue and gray hues that painted the countryside. Was it an object? A person? His eyes squinted, searching for answers – then widened in shock. Yes, it seemed as a person were inhabiting the field, sitting upon a bout of rocks, overlooking the wind-tossed waters of the Great Lake, alive with the anger of the storm. Such a sight immediately sent his train of thought booking, a sort of dizzying bout of confusion hitting him like a wave. What was a person doing up there, in such dangerous weather? Had they gone mad?
There was nothing that mattered anymore, not his plans, not school regulations, not even his own health and safety. His hero complex had kicked in at that very moment, a strong feeling that overtook the boy’s limbs by wave, his fists clenching in adrenaline as his footsteps began steadily, carrying him forward. He could give no thought to anything else, his shivering body, no less the warm clothes on his back, nothing – someone was in danger, there was nothing else in the entire world that mattered. No, there was nothing else in the world that existed. There was only the person on the ledge.
His footsteps carried him across the soggy grounds in mere seconds. It felt like an eternity.
His hands slammed against the rocks haphazardly, in repercussion to his stiff limbs, stricken numb by the cold rain. His eyes searched the rocks in fear, his teeth clenched in fear, his muscles tense in an effort of retain an air of warmth. “Who’s up there?” he called loudly, his voice shaking slightly. Then, not being able to hear an answer, he yelled out again. “Hold on, I’m coming up!”
And with that, he began his ascent up the rocks. [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]Hogwarts had been cursed with many a dreary day as of late, as the skies had been dark with the tears of mother nature, ominous storm clouds forever looming overhead in the humid air, giving birth to thick sheets of cold, unforgiving rain that fell upon the lively-green March grass like metal pellets, drilling into the grounds and anyone unlucky to traverse them on such a day. Which, to some, may have seemed like a terribly dreadful thing, the universe’s way of unleashing its anger on the innocent children of the wizard school. However, it was hard for Rafael to think such thoughts. April, it seemed, was on her merry way, bringing on her return journey warm air and beautiful blossoms, butterflies and bluebirds inhabiting the air in her wake, a perfect portrait of tranquility. Peace, he had long since learned, always followed the storm, as even nature eventually ran out of hatred to give. The universe was a fickle thing. However, he would surely make peace with its forces someday, later in his life, when he himself had no more hatred to give. An interesting concept, one the boy had entertained himself with many a long night.
However, no matter how much Rafael could appreciate the transition of seasons, he’d never really gotten used to flying in the rain. It was certainly less than ideal, as anyone who had learned anything about such a sport could surely tell – he supposed life was seldom easy, having been riddled with mysteries and discord alike. He couldn’t expect any less out of the dreary weather, for the stakes had always been against the boy and his likes, cursing such children in eternal bad luck. He would pay no mind, however, to the boundaries set by destiny. He’d always been a rule breaker. If he were to succumb to fate, then where would he go? Yes, the thought certainly got his gears turning, his mind floating off to unknown places, never to be retrieved. What were the boundaries of destiny? What was out there, just out of reach?
Such thoughts had been reverberating around the expanses of his mind as he exited the locker rooms, a fresh change of clothes on his back as he treaded tiredly across the pavements of the bare halls. His face was wet – he couldn’t be sure if it was more of his own sweat, or the rain that had clouded his vision so acutely – as was his hair, slicked back by his own hand in order to keep the locks out of his eyes. He’d just finished his practice, one of the more ambitious ones, he’d be proudly to state. Had gotten fed up with just practicing his throwing – and had whipped a beaters’ bat out. Which left him to wonder, if chaser was really a position for him. He was strong yes, and verily so, much stronger than most of their beaters, in the least. However, he would most likely never get to execute this affinity on the field, except in the case of blatching – a move he would seldom ever stoop low enough to use.
He’d stopped at the entrance to the courtyard, his eyes gazing out into the billowing rain, the noises of thunder striking his ears, the storm breeze piercing his nose as he gazed out into the mess of nature, a perfect disharmony created by her skilled hand. There was something positively peaceful about the whole setting – Rafael closed his eyes, allowing the storm to take ahold of his senses, its rage, it’s power. There were some things that were peaceful in ways that were positively impossible to explain – the unforgiving storm was unexplainable to Rafael in the most acute, indescribable way. It was perfect. It was dangerous. It was a wave of comfort, washing over his sense, bringing him complete and utter peace.
He opened his eyes, taking in the disharmony for a moment more, before – wait.
His eyes brushed against a striking color of yellow, a contrast to the deep blue and gray hues that painted the countryside. Was it an object? A person? His eyes squinted, searching for answers – then widened in shock. Yes, it seemed as a person were inhabiting the field, sitting upon a bout of rocks, overlooking the wind-tossed waters of the Great Lake, alive with the anger of the storm. Such a sight immediately sent his train of thought booking, a sort of dizzying bout of confusion hitting him like a wave. What was a person doing up there, in such dangerous weather? Had they gone mad?
There was nothing that mattered anymore, not his plans, not school regulations, not even his own health and safety. His hero complex had kicked in at that very moment, a strong feeling that overtook the boy’s limbs by wave, his fists clenching in adrenaline as his footsteps began steadily, carrying him forward. He could give no thought to anything else, his shivering body, no less the warm clothes on his back, nothing – someone was in danger, there was nothing else in the entire world that mattered. No, there was nothing else in the world that existed. There was only the person on the ledge.
His footsteps carried him across the soggy grounds in mere seconds. It felt like an eternity.
His hands slammed against the rocks haphazardly, in repercussion to his stiff limbs, stricken numb by the cold rain. His eyes searched the rocks in fear, his teeth clenched in fear, his muscles tense in an effort of retain an air of warmth. “Who’s up there?” he called loudly, his voice shaking slightly. Then, not being able to hear an answer, he yelled out again. “Hold on, I’m coming up!”
And with that, he began his ascent up the rocks. [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
24 Mar 2020, 19:47
Crippled inside
When she was ten years old, Lydia had ran away from home. It was a clear night of August, and the girl had just listened to her parents and her grandma fighting about something. They probably didn’t even know she was awake, it was after all two in the morning, and all she wanted to do was not hear their raised voices fighting over something she didn’t even understand. She had quietly snuck out of the house, making sure to bring a flashlight with her, and she had gone on the beach. There was something about water that simply had a calming effect on her. She had walked all the way past the Brighton Pier, which was more than fifteen minutes away from her house, and she had climbed on some big rocks near it, right above the water.
Now, the whole situation felt quite familiar to the red headed girl; she was again sitting on rocks, by the water, running away from her family drama, but this time was different, it was worse, she had this feeling deep inside her chest that she didn’t know how to control or react to.
A loud thunder tore the sky apart, illuminating the deep dark water in front of Lydia, and only in that moment she realised how strong and angry the waves were. It was kind of hypnotic, the way the water kept crushing over the stones, the currents angry and strong; for a small second she wondered what it would have felt like, to be in that water. She was a good swimmer, since she was born and raised by the sea, and maybe the lake wouldn’t have been that much different from when the ocean is agitated by a storm.
Another lighting light up the sky, and Lydia swore she had heard something, or someone, shouting on her right side. She quickly dried her tears with one of her sleeves, smearing some mud on her right cheek, and as she looked in the direction of the voice, she couldn’t see anything.
Now that she realised it, the rain was much stronger than when she had climbed up there, and even though it was still morning, she could barely see anything.
“Well, aren’t you smart Lydia Cooper?” She mentally mocked herself, her bottom lip captured between her teeth getting tortured; she could already taste some blood, and she reminded herself that it was not smart to keep chewing on it.
As a third lighting shadowed its light on the surroundings, Lydia saw someone, or something, she wasn’t too sure, climbing the rocks up towards her, and her heart started beating fast in fear. She knew that the lake had different kinds of creatures under the surface, who knew if some of them were able to survive outside of the water, or even worse, what if those rocks were their home? Too scared to find out what exactly was coming towards her, the Hufflepuff girl started climbing more rocks, making her way deeper and dangerously closer to the waves. She was trying her best to be quick, but between the heavy rain and the pain in her knee she could only move at a certain speed, and she hoped that was enough for her to avoid whatever was coming for her.
She kept going, almost falling a couple of times, before she abruptly stopped, a little scream leaving her lips; she had almost accidentally jumped in the lake, no more rocks in front of her. She mentally cursed and looked back to the direction she came from, a figure still moving towards her.
Lydia decided to take out her wand, even though she knew no defence spells yet, but at least she could have used Periculum if any creature would have tried to attack her. Her heart was beating fast and loud in her chest, its sound filling the girl's ears, as the figure got closer and closer. "Wh-Who are you?" she asked with a shaky voice as she pointed her wand, her right hand slightly shaking as well.
She wasn't sure if the person/thing had heard her, since she got no answer, and she was incredibly close to cast the red sparks charm, when she recognised the figure in front of her. Now that it had got closer, she could make out a human shape, and thank God it wasn't a creature from the lake.
Lydia put down her wand, placing it safely in her belt loop, before looking back up towards the person; the closer they got, the more she could recognise: she first recognised his hair, dark brown, that usually were cutely styled, while right now because of the rain were everywhere over the boy's face, then she recognised his face, and Lydia's heart made a leap of happiness at the sight of, what was now clear to the girl, her crush.
"R-Rafael? What are you doing here?" she asked him, her voice shaky not from the fear but from the cold as the wind blew particularly strong. Why was he there, with that weather, and why did he have to look that pretty even when being that drenched by the rain?
Lydia shook her head and tried to stay focused, as she started, very slowly and really carefully, to move towards the Gryffindor boy.
@Rafael D'Spacito
"Everything beautiful is ruined eventually."
|| PART VEELA || ALLURING || LOVELY CREATURE || SCREAM
25 Mar 2020, 16:52
Crippled inside
@Lydia Cooper
[font=Segoe Print]The figure on the rocks, it seemed, had shifted at the sound of his voice – or perhaps it had been the thunder’s roar, startling the shadow into turning. Whatever the case, he had one way or another properly gained its attention. This came as a relief, for a mere moment, he supposed, as he could finally give into his impulses, pull the person off the proverbial, and quite literal, ledge. The questions were already stinging his lips – or, in could have been the rain, cold harsh, unforgiving – What the hell was going on? Why would a person inhabit such a dangerous place? What had been going through their bloody minds? However, all his questions were quickly stifled by his own steely focus, his eyes following the mysterious shadow once more. It would seem as if his original observation had been a bit premature – the figure, instead of coming closer, or staying put in general, had only been startled higher up into the rocks, farther from Rafael and safety. At the very sight of such actions, the boy’s heart jumped, his hands clutching his elbows for warmth as his teeth chattered chronically – in nerves or cold, he couldn’t pinpoint as of yet. Where are they going?
Well, it seemed as if there was only one course of action to take, given the circumstances. Rather than wait at the bottom of the rocks, or call for help, or even call quits and escape into the warmth of the castle, the boy had instead resumed his climbing, the rain soaking into his clothes acutely and chilling him to the bone. His hands struggled for purchase among the slippery rocks – he nearly slipped – but, thankfully, his foot found a groove in the rock, enough to wedge his foot into for additional support. Climbing the dangerous ‘isles’ of the Hogwarts Grounds was not in the least safe on a normal basis, he thought bitterly as he made his journey – the rain only made the whole situation more harrowing, as everything once solid was now wet, slippery, and dangerous. The rain itself was cold, chilling, painful as it made contact with his back, the ferocious sort that could give a poor fellow pneumonia. Something he would not be looking forward to dealing with later.
At long last, he had made it to the location of the shadowy figure. The rain pouring down in thick sheets, visibility low, frustrating to anyone trying to see through the proverbial veil. He’d stood up at full height – five feet four, startling for a boy his age – before his eyes began to survey the setting, looking for any indication of the person in front of him. At the very sight of the shadow’s wand, pointed at him haphazardly, his hands had flown to his own magic stick, whipping it out as fast as one of the nearby bouts of lightning. Was he dealing with another Ben Eckenrode? Masks be damned, he wasn’t about to be taken control of. “Hey!” he shouted dangerously over the roaring thunder, his muscles tense as a dangerous look made it to his eyes. “Let’s lower that wand, yeah? Would hate for someone to lose an eye –“
"R-Rafael? What are you doing here?"
The voice was startlingly familiar – bubbly, airy, a feminine voice if he’d ever heard one. It was almost as if the voice was singing, in the strangest way, even though common sense suggested nothing of the sort – however, there was something about the kindly voice in question, that didn’t at all sound fun or happy. In the place of the bright tones, there was an aching, acute pain leaking through the vocals, a dejected tone, the sort that spoke of sadness and discouragement.
The boy lowered his wand in that instant, right into his pocket, his eyes searching for a face to match the voice. And, he quickly found it – confusion took over his features in that moment, his eyes going wide. It was Lydia, the girl from the Rehearsal Room – the girl who had found him during hide and seek. The angel girl. It was quite disturbing, seeing her in the state that she was – such pretty features shouldn’t have been contorted in such a distressed way. His curiosity was burning once more – What had happened? Was she okay?
“Lydia –" he started, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes quickly scanned her sullen form, rain-soaked hoodie, strawberry-blonde hair matted to her face. “Are you mad?” he sputtered in that moment. However, there was no anger to his voice, not a single undertone of maliciousness – on the contrary, his voice was thick with confusion, an edge of concern. “Oh, Jesus,” he came closer, still trying to read the girl in front of him, desperate for an answer to the eversurmounting inquiry. Her face was wet – no, red. Crying? Had someone hurt her? If so, who? Would he be caught if he tried to beat them up? Did it even matter? “Lydia, what on earth – what’s going on? What’s wrong?” [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]The figure on the rocks, it seemed, had shifted at the sound of his voice – or perhaps it had been the thunder’s roar, startling the shadow into turning. Whatever the case, he had one way or another properly gained its attention. This came as a relief, for a mere moment, he supposed, as he could finally give into his impulses, pull the person off the proverbial, and quite literal, ledge. The questions were already stinging his lips – or, in could have been the rain, cold harsh, unforgiving – What the hell was going on? Why would a person inhabit such a dangerous place? What had been going through their bloody minds? However, all his questions were quickly stifled by his own steely focus, his eyes following the mysterious shadow once more. It would seem as if his original observation had been a bit premature – the figure, instead of coming closer, or staying put in general, had only been startled higher up into the rocks, farther from Rafael and safety. At the very sight of such actions, the boy’s heart jumped, his hands clutching his elbows for warmth as his teeth chattered chronically – in nerves or cold, he couldn’t pinpoint as of yet. Where are they going?
Well, it seemed as if there was only one course of action to take, given the circumstances. Rather than wait at the bottom of the rocks, or call for help, or even call quits and escape into the warmth of the castle, the boy had instead resumed his climbing, the rain soaking into his clothes acutely and chilling him to the bone. His hands struggled for purchase among the slippery rocks – he nearly slipped – but, thankfully, his foot found a groove in the rock, enough to wedge his foot into for additional support. Climbing the dangerous ‘isles’ of the Hogwarts Grounds was not in the least safe on a normal basis, he thought bitterly as he made his journey – the rain only made the whole situation more harrowing, as everything once solid was now wet, slippery, and dangerous. The rain itself was cold, chilling, painful as it made contact with his back, the ferocious sort that could give a poor fellow pneumonia. Something he would not be looking forward to dealing with later.
At long last, he had made it to the location of the shadowy figure. The rain pouring down in thick sheets, visibility low, frustrating to anyone trying to see through the proverbial veil. He’d stood up at full height – five feet four, startling for a boy his age – before his eyes began to survey the setting, looking for any indication of the person in front of him. At the very sight of the shadow’s wand, pointed at him haphazardly, his hands had flown to his own magic stick, whipping it out as fast as one of the nearby bouts of lightning. Was he dealing with another Ben Eckenrode? Masks be damned, he wasn’t about to be taken control of. “Hey!” he shouted dangerously over the roaring thunder, his muscles tense as a dangerous look made it to his eyes. “Let’s lower that wand, yeah? Would hate for someone to lose an eye –“
"R-Rafael? What are you doing here?"
The voice was startlingly familiar – bubbly, airy, a feminine voice if he’d ever heard one. It was almost as if the voice was singing, in the strangest way, even though common sense suggested nothing of the sort – however, there was something about the kindly voice in question, that didn’t at all sound fun or happy. In the place of the bright tones, there was an aching, acute pain leaking through the vocals, a dejected tone, the sort that spoke of sadness and discouragement.
The boy lowered his wand in that instant, right into his pocket, his eyes searching for a face to match the voice. And, he quickly found it – confusion took over his features in that moment, his eyes going wide. It was Lydia, the girl from the Rehearsal Room – the girl who had found him during hide and seek. The angel girl. It was quite disturbing, seeing her in the state that she was – such pretty features shouldn’t have been contorted in such a distressed way. His curiosity was burning once more – What had happened? Was she okay?
“Lydia –" he started, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes quickly scanned her sullen form, rain-soaked hoodie, strawberry-blonde hair matted to her face. “Are you mad?” he sputtered in that moment. However, there was no anger to his voice, not a single undertone of maliciousness – on the contrary, his voice was thick with confusion, an edge of concern. “Oh, Jesus,” he came closer, still trying to read the girl in front of him, desperate for an answer to the eversurmounting inquiry. Her face was wet – no, red. Crying? Had someone hurt her? If so, who? Would he be caught if he tried to beat them up? Did it even matter? “Lydia, what on earth – what’s going on? What’s wrong?” [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
25 Mar 2020, 20:10
Crippled inside
“Lydia, what on earth – what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Lydia didn't really know what to answer. She definitely wasn't okay, and she knew what was wrong, but at the same time she couldn't seem to find the words to say that, or any other word to be fair. She felt like her mind was being destroyed by an hurricane, thoughts all mixed together, unable to prioritise one. Should she have told Rafael about her mother first? Or maybe about her bloody knee? Or perhaps they should have moved away from the lake and the rain, and got somewhere warmer?
As all of these thoughts raced inside her head, she had slowly made it all the way to the boy, who was looking at her with confusion written all over his features. The red headed girl looked up at him, her eyes wide as she tried to concentrate to say something, anything, but the words were stuck.
A too well known feeling started to rise inside the girl; it started with her throat feeling closed, as if she was unable to breath; then came the numbness of her fingers, that then spread over her arms and skin; and then her accelerated heartbeat, behaving like a scared caged bird that was trying to free himself and fly away.
Lydia's eyes where moving everywhere, anywhere, trying to find something to anchor herself to, something that would help the panic stop for long enough for her to catch a proper breath, but all in vain. She brought a hand up to her throat, as if that would have helped with the feeling of it closing more and more, as she started to gasp for air, taking deep breaths way too quickly. In the back of her mind she knew that hyperventilating wasn't good, that she needed to slow down her breathing pattern, but she couldn't.
Lately the Hufflepuff girl had been under way too much stress, too much anxiety, for her to be able to properly cope with... well, with all the shocking revelation about her mother. She had been feeling the panic attacks creeping in again, slowly and sneakily making their way back into her routine, but they hadn't been like this one, not this bad.
The blood was pounding in her ears, and she couldn't understand if Rafael was even talking to her; all that she knew was that everything hurt, and everything was numb at the same time, and the damned picture with her mom in it was stuck in her mind. Lydia didn't even realise she had started sobbing, loud and with her whole body shaking with every new sob. She was feeling so drained of everything, of hope, of security, of trust. Who were her parents? Had all her life been a lie? Who was Lydia?
A particularly loud thunder made her jump, her shoes slipping slightly on the wet rocks, and she reached out instinctively towards Rafael to stabilise herself, her hand wrapping around one of the boy's forearm. The pain from the cuts on her palm made her groan, before she looked up at the boy, her tears mixing with the raindrops on her cheeks.
"T-They... My mom-" she tried to speak, her voice weak and strained. "My mom- she's a witch an-and they've lied to me," another sob broke her little voice, as the pain that she had felt inside her chest erupted all in once as she spoke. Talking, admitting it out loud made everything real, too real, and Lydia couldn't keep talking, her next words dying on her tongue. The pain felt like an explosion, making her feeling really warm inside and then cold, frozen, unnaturally empty, all in the span of three seconds, if that.
Lydia opened her eyes - she didn't even remember closing them- and then looked down, unable to hold Rafael's gaze. She was feeling so stupid and embarrassed, on top of everything else, she must have looked completely crazy like that. She finally managed to take a deep breath, before she was able to continue talk.
"I was in the Trophy Room this morning," she stopped and looked around confused; how long had it been since she had run out of the castle, and was it still morning? She couldn't tell, the rain was too much to properly point a certain time in the day. "I was just snooping around, like my m-mom always says I do...and I saw a picture of her, of my mother, with Ravenclaw robes and the pin of Head Girl. They told me we are-were a muggle family, that I was somehow special, but it was a lie!"
Lydia's last words came out angrier than she thought they would have been, and her sobs slowly toned down, as her tears kept mixing with the rain. "She's a witch, Rafael, and I don't know what to believe anymore. Is my father a wizard as well, or have they only lied about mom? And Grandma? Is she-" her words died on her tongue and her eyes widened as she realised that in a couple of weeks, more or less, she was supposed to go back home for the Easter holidays, and her grandmother's birthday, and spend the time in London at her Grandma's with the rest of her family. She shook her head, trying to find a reason, any reason, so that she didn't have to see her family that soon. "No, no, no..."
Another lightning, followed by it's thunder, illuminated the sky, and Lydia realised that the storm had been getting closer, and stronger, which meant that the water of the lake had grew angrier and more dangerous as well. The realisation of where they were, of how dangerously stupid she had been, made her regain more contact with reality, and a different kind of fear made its way over her features.
@Rafael D'Spacito
"Everything beautiful is ruined eventually."
|| PART VEELA || ALLURING || LOVELY CREATURE || SCREAM
28 Mar 2020, 21:13
Crippled inside
@Lydia Cooper
[font=Segoe Print]It was hard to read the sullen girl in the split-second after Rafael had spoken, the air suddenly turning deadly silent in suspense and anticipation as the boy’s eyes scanned the girl in question, searching for any sort of sign or indication to why she was rock-climbing in the midst of a thunderstorm. The whole situation was beginning to set the boy off-kilter, his muscles growing tenser as each moment wore on, the bouts of thunder reverberating around the expanses of his head like a drum. It hurt, everything was cold, he felt utterly numb, and yet, none of those facts seemed to truly register to the boy in the moment, instead his focus on the poor, shivering Hufflepuff girl in front of him. Hias head was currently bowed slightly in a submissive gesture as he stepped forward tentatively, his lips pursed in confusion and his hands held out in front of him, gently, an extension of peace. For a moment, he considered repeating his question – the air was too silent, thick with rain and unspoken emotions, suffocating, even. The intrigue was on the tip of his tongue, the taste of the question bitter and repulsive on his lips –
There were some things that people should never, ever have to see. Raf felt as if he were viewing one of those very sights, as he watched in horror as Lydia fell apart before his very eyes, his mouth gaping in utter shock, trying to process what exactly was happening. First came the shivers, then came the paling of her already porcelain features, irregular breathing, disarrayed look. Tense features. Then came the sobbing. Angels weren’t supposed to cry, dammit – such a sight felt wrong, unholy to watch, a strange, disgusting sort of feeling creeping into Rafael’s stomach and leaving him utterly sick. The sight was only bringing back memories, so real, so vivid, as if he were watching the events of yesterday. Lydia was having a panic attack, he knew it, he’d seen them a thousand times before. But what could he do to stop it?
For the moment, he found himself utterly unable to do anything but watch in horror as Lydia spilled out her insecurities, the tears pouring down her perfect features in a ghastly portrait of pain and sorrow. "T-They... My mom-" she seemed to struggle with her words, causing the boy to only tense up more, his lip slowly tucking itself in between his teeth in an attempt to keep himself quiet. “My mom – she's a witch an-and they've lied to me." Her mom – lied? He exhaled sharply at the thought, considering her words personally for a second, taking note of every word that came out of her lips. Head Girl? Ravenclaw? The mystery only unfolded before his very eyes, facts floating around the expanses of his head as he grasped for answers, drawing up nothing but more questions. Was she okay? Hurt? Why did such things matter so much to the girl? What could he possibly do to keep such a lovely girl from shedding another tear?
He looked up as the last word exited her mouth, his hands twitching in reflex – he had to do something, anything, to help in Lydia’s emotional distress. But what could he do? A memory resurfaced in that moment, vague and faded by time, from his days back in Argentina – the sunlight was streaming through the cracks of boarded-up windows, noises of a bustling city leaking through the tattered door of the D’Spacito Household. It was almost like yesterday, the harsh breathing, hot tears on his own mother’s face as she clutched the arms of her husband, her muscles tense and her tan skin turned pale as she struggled for breath amongst the clutches of her own terror. Valentina D’Spacito had suffered terrible panic attacks after the death of Rafael’s younger sister, Sophia, the likes of which had tainted the young boy’s vision of household strength to the present day. The very reminiscence of such a memory brought a bout of cold chills down the spine of the Gryffindor in that moment, his teeth gritted painfully as he shoved such memories out of his head, a look almost akin to sneer flickering on his face in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. However, there was something else, a strange sort of feeling now presiding in the boy’s chest – hope, was it? Yes – he could remember his father’s actions, the careful moves the man had taken to rescue his wife from her own emotions. He could save Lydia from her own terror.
It seemed as if, when people felt alone and scared, they needed an anchor, someone to hold onto in the midst of their emotional storms, as ravaging and exhausting as they may be. Lydia was alone, at a school most likely a multitude of miles away from anyone she truly knew, anyone akin to family. She didn’t have an anchor. However, given the circumstances, an anchor wouldn’t be too terribly hard to find – the boy’s arms wound around the girl in a gentle hug in an act of reflex, enough to give her room to breathe, but tightly enough to portray some sense of security. It felt oddly comfortable, amidst the pouring rain and bouts of thunder sounding about, a truly strange feeling to describe with words – speaking of words, the Gryffindor spoke the first things that came to mind, words he’d heard his father utter a thousand times before. “It’s okay, Lydia,” he muttered into her ear, rocking her back and forth. “It’s okay… breath, in and out, can you do that for me? In… and out…”
He was trying his very hardest to console the girl, when the weight of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks. He hardly knew her – what if his decisions were to only further her panic? He inwardly cursed himself, a wince taking his features by storm. Rafael, you bloody moron – your mom knew your father! His face paled then, something Lydia wouldn’t be able to see as he bit his lip, looking at the slippery rocks just beyond Lydia’s shoulder. Had he only worsened the girl’s anxiety? Was the situation salvageable, after all? [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]It was hard to read the sullen girl in the split-second after Rafael had spoken, the air suddenly turning deadly silent in suspense and anticipation as the boy’s eyes scanned the girl in question, searching for any sort of sign or indication to why she was rock-climbing in the midst of a thunderstorm. The whole situation was beginning to set the boy off-kilter, his muscles growing tenser as each moment wore on, the bouts of thunder reverberating around the expanses of his head like a drum. It hurt, everything was cold, he felt utterly numb, and yet, none of those facts seemed to truly register to the boy in the moment, instead his focus on the poor, shivering Hufflepuff girl in front of him. Hias head was currently bowed slightly in a submissive gesture as he stepped forward tentatively, his lips pursed in confusion and his hands held out in front of him, gently, an extension of peace. For a moment, he considered repeating his question – the air was too silent, thick with rain and unspoken emotions, suffocating, even. The intrigue was on the tip of his tongue, the taste of the question bitter and repulsive on his lips –
There were some things that people should never, ever have to see. Raf felt as if he were viewing one of those very sights, as he watched in horror as Lydia fell apart before his very eyes, his mouth gaping in utter shock, trying to process what exactly was happening. First came the shivers, then came the paling of her already porcelain features, irregular breathing, disarrayed look. Tense features. Then came the sobbing. Angels weren’t supposed to cry, dammit – such a sight felt wrong, unholy to watch, a strange, disgusting sort of feeling creeping into Rafael’s stomach and leaving him utterly sick. The sight was only bringing back memories, so real, so vivid, as if he were watching the events of yesterday. Lydia was having a panic attack, he knew it, he’d seen them a thousand times before. But what could he do to stop it?
For the moment, he found himself utterly unable to do anything but watch in horror as Lydia spilled out her insecurities, the tears pouring down her perfect features in a ghastly portrait of pain and sorrow. "T-They... My mom-" she seemed to struggle with her words, causing the boy to only tense up more, his lip slowly tucking itself in between his teeth in an attempt to keep himself quiet. “My mom – she's a witch an-and they've lied to me." Her mom – lied? He exhaled sharply at the thought, considering her words personally for a second, taking note of every word that came out of her lips. Head Girl? Ravenclaw? The mystery only unfolded before his very eyes, facts floating around the expanses of his head as he grasped for answers, drawing up nothing but more questions. Was she okay? Hurt? Why did such things matter so much to the girl? What could he possibly do to keep such a lovely girl from shedding another tear?
He looked up as the last word exited her mouth, his hands twitching in reflex – he had to do something, anything, to help in Lydia’s emotional distress. But what could he do? A memory resurfaced in that moment, vague and faded by time, from his days back in Argentina – the sunlight was streaming through the cracks of boarded-up windows, noises of a bustling city leaking through the tattered door of the D’Spacito Household. It was almost like yesterday, the harsh breathing, hot tears on his own mother’s face as she clutched the arms of her husband, her muscles tense and her tan skin turned pale as she struggled for breath amongst the clutches of her own terror. Valentina D’Spacito had suffered terrible panic attacks after the death of Rafael’s younger sister, Sophia, the likes of which had tainted the young boy’s vision of household strength to the present day. The very reminiscence of such a memory brought a bout of cold chills down the spine of the Gryffindor in that moment, his teeth gritted painfully as he shoved such memories out of his head, a look almost akin to sneer flickering on his face in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. However, there was something else, a strange sort of feeling now presiding in the boy’s chest – hope, was it? Yes – he could remember his father’s actions, the careful moves the man had taken to rescue his wife from her own emotions. He could save Lydia from her own terror.
It seemed as if, when people felt alone and scared, they needed an anchor, someone to hold onto in the midst of their emotional storms, as ravaging and exhausting as they may be. Lydia was alone, at a school most likely a multitude of miles away from anyone she truly knew, anyone akin to family. She didn’t have an anchor. However, given the circumstances, an anchor wouldn’t be too terribly hard to find – the boy’s arms wound around the girl in a gentle hug in an act of reflex, enough to give her room to breathe, but tightly enough to portray some sense of security. It felt oddly comfortable, amidst the pouring rain and bouts of thunder sounding about, a truly strange feeling to describe with words – speaking of words, the Gryffindor spoke the first things that came to mind, words he’d heard his father utter a thousand times before. “It’s okay, Lydia,” he muttered into her ear, rocking her back and forth. “It’s okay… breath, in and out, can you do that for me? In… and out…”
He was trying his very hardest to console the girl, when the weight of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks. He hardly knew her – what if his decisions were to only further her panic? He inwardly cursed himself, a wince taking his features by storm. Rafael, you bloody moron – your mom knew your father! His face paled then, something Lydia wouldn’t be able to see as he bit his lip, looking at the slippery rocks just beyond Lydia’s shoulder. Had he only worsened the girl’s anxiety? Was the situation salvageable, after all? [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
28 Mar 2020, 23:34
Crippled inside
Lydia was exhausted.
Saying those little words had required way too much energy, as she had to control her sobs and her trembling. So when she finished talking, she didn't even try to hold back her tears or to appear normal. No, she had completely let go, her panic attack continuing almost in waves of anxiety that made her head spin - or was it the inevitable lack of oxygen? - as if she was on a rollercoaster.
When she was younger, the red headed girl had suffered from panic attacks and the only way she would calm down from them was for her to go to her mother. She would usually have them at night, and she would silently get up from her bed and crawl into her parents' one, before wrapping herself around her mother, that would just hug her and comfort her, her calming presence enough for Lydia to come back to reality and fall asleep again.
But in that moment, the girl didn't know how to stop the panic, since it was her mom the cause of the attack this time. The mere thought of her sent Lydia into another fit, crying and her body shaking as she closed her eyes. She felt unsafe, vulnerable, defenceless, as if before all of that she had had a warm blanket around her shoulder, while now she felt completely bare, cold.
Until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her.
For a brief second Lydia froze, her body going rigid as she tried to register who was hugging her, in the back of her mind the irrational fear that it might have been her mother. Then, almost instinctively, she wrapped her arms around Rafael, her hands clinging hard on the clothes on his back as if her life depended on it, her nails almost digging into his skin. She buried her face into his chest, his scent invading her nose, as she tried to calm down her violent sobbing.
She slowly started hearing Rafael's voice properly, the ringing in her ears fading out, as his calm words rocked her into a calmer, slower breathing pattern. Like that, in that position, with her head over his chest, Lydia could hear the rhythmic beating of the boy's heart; it sounded so clear, the thump-thump sound bringing the girl slowly back to reality.
Lydia took a deep breath, a proper one, and she slowly exhaled, her hands slowly relaxing on the boy's back just like the rest of her body. She still felt pretty light-headed, but at least she wasn't crying anymore.
She didn't know for how long they had been in that position, her perception of time still not too clear, but she didn't care too much. In that moment she felt safe, protected, almost as if the blanket was back around her shoulders. But mostly, despite the cold wind and pouring rain, she felt comfortable.
"I'm sorry," Lydia weakly croaked, her voice hoarse and thin, as she kept her head laying over Rafael's chest. She felt incredibly sorry that he had to see her that way, so defenceless, powerless, desperate. If her grandmother would have seen her in that condition, with wet, dirty clothes, ripped trousers and mud even in her hair, she would have definitely been ashamed. Her grandmother Marie had always been an extremely elegant woman, with platinum blonde hair and extremely fair skin; every time she moved it looked as if she was dancing, her movements flowing effortlessly. A very faint smile appeared on the girl's lips as she imagined the scandalised face of her grandma, but then it disappeared as fast as it came, the doubts that she might have been lying to her as well coming back to her.
Lydia slowly tilted her head up to look at Rafael, her face tired and her eyes extremely green, like it always happened every time that the girl felt sad or had cried.
"Thank you Raf," she said, her voice still hoarse but better than before. She gave the boy a tentative smile, one of those that don't reach the eyes, before she closed her eyes, her head still tilted up, the cold rain feeling extremely nice over her skin, almost refreshing, as if it was trying to wash away her pain and struggles.
@Rafael D'Spacito
"Everything beautiful is ruined eventually."
|| PART VEELA || ALLURING || LOVELY CREATURE || SCREAM
6 Apr 2020, 18:09
Crippled inside
@Lydia Cooper
[font=Segoe Print]Rafael’s heart was beating a little to quickly for comfort, the hairs on his arm sticking stick straight in the anticipation as he awaited the girl’s response, his limbs growing stiffer as the moments wore on. April’s warfare was becoming even more relentless, as it seemed– the rain was only pouring harder now, the sky’s warriors berating against the boy’s skin in painful droves, poking, prodding, leaving him utterly in pain. However, he could do nothing to focus on the physical distress of the situation, his mind instead on the girl in his arms, positively suffering from the cold and inward turmoil. The dread inside his chest was becoming stronger, smothering, to the point where he thought it would be too much to bear… he hated it. He needed desperately for her to react, show any sort of sign that she was okay –
[He couldn’t begin to possibly know why.]
Lydia’s arms wrapped around his midsection in that moment, her nails digging painfully into his shirt, her face burying itself into his chest as she cried, her tears hot in comparison to the chilling rain falling mercilessly around them. Her response was shocking – he tensed in the slightest, his heart rate spiking in shock and his eyes widening as he tried to grasp what exactly was happening. He supposed he had never been fond of people hugging him – it was too submissive, left one open for attack. He’d learned the hard way. And he wanted so badly to hate the feeling he felt now, the strange warmth pooling in his chest at the pressure of the girl’s firm hug, he really did – however, there was a strange sort of comfort about the way she clutched him, her body heat, the smell of her coconut shampoo… there was no possible way for him to ever despise something so innocent from a girl so sweet, no matter how hard he tried. He found himself reveling in the little body heat she did have, rocking her back and forth in a comforting manner, and rubbing small circles into her back, as he’d seen his father do a thousand times before. It was all he could do to comfort her through her pain.
The moments wore on, and their clothes only grew more frigid – Rafael’s own shirt was now sticking to his body, leaving him with no insulation and a cold chill that seemed to pierce his very bones. He began shivering himself, his limbs slowly losing feeling as he soldiered on through the cold, clutching Lydia almost defensively at the sight of the roaring waves of the Great Lake, an ominous sight that left sirens firing off in the child’s head. Finally, there came a moment where no amount of hugging could retain warmth in his body – his lips blue, his tan skin pale as brown eyes fluttered tiredly closed and open, the final warning of the oncoming case of pneumonia he was surely going to suffer from later.
This brought a wave of realization over him – they couldn’t stay out, not in the current weather. He’d thought it to be his mind playing tricks on him, but now that it was on his mind, he could feel Lydia’s skin, morbidly cold, like a chunk of ice. She couldn’t stay outside any longer. "I'm sorry." She sounded weak, too – hoarse, either from the crying or the cold, her limbs positively quaking from the cold. "Thank you, Raf.” He could do little to accept the thanks – only suck in a shaky breath, trying to grasp his next words, his thoughts frazzled by the cold…
“Que decir… You want to thank me?” he asked, putting a small, concerned smile onto his face. “I want to help you, Lydia, I really do. But here’s not the place – I’m going to take you to the hospital wing, okay?”
His eyes surveyed the rocks once more, planning a safe exit route – they had to have been twice as slippery now, slick, dangerous. His own knees felt weak – Lydia’s had to have been even weaker, as she was much smaller than him, and had been outside for much longer. It was then that it dawned on him – she wouldn’t be able to climb down on her own. He looked at her again, chewing his lip numbly, wiping his running nose on his sleeve as he considered his next words carefully. How to put it…
“Can I pick you up?” [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]Rafael’s heart was beating a little to quickly for comfort, the hairs on his arm sticking stick straight in the anticipation as he awaited the girl’s response, his limbs growing stiffer as the moments wore on. April’s warfare was becoming even more relentless, as it seemed– the rain was only pouring harder now, the sky’s warriors berating against the boy’s skin in painful droves, poking, prodding, leaving him utterly in pain. However, he could do nothing to focus on the physical distress of the situation, his mind instead on the girl in his arms, positively suffering from the cold and inward turmoil. The dread inside his chest was becoming stronger, smothering, to the point where he thought it would be too much to bear… he hated it. He needed desperately for her to react, show any sort of sign that she was okay –
[He couldn’t begin to possibly know why.]
Lydia’s arms wrapped around his midsection in that moment, her nails digging painfully into his shirt, her face burying itself into his chest as she cried, her tears hot in comparison to the chilling rain falling mercilessly around them. Her response was shocking – he tensed in the slightest, his heart rate spiking in shock and his eyes widening as he tried to grasp what exactly was happening. He supposed he had never been fond of people hugging him – it was too submissive, left one open for attack. He’d learned the hard way. And he wanted so badly to hate the feeling he felt now, the strange warmth pooling in his chest at the pressure of the girl’s firm hug, he really did – however, there was a strange sort of comfort about the way she clutched him, her body heat, the smell of her coconut shampoo… there was no possible way for him to ever despise something so innocent from a girl so sweet, no matter how hard he tried. He found himself reveling in the little body heat she did have, rocking her back and forth in a comforting manner, and rubbing small circles into her back, as he’d seen his father do a thousand times before. It was all he could do to comfort her through her pain.
The moments wore on, and their clothes only grew more frigid – Rafael’s own shirt was now sticking to his body, leaving him with no insulation and a cold chill that seemed to pierce his very bones. He began shivering himself, his limbs slowly losing feeling as he soldiered on through the cold, clutching Lydia almost defensively at the sight of the roaring waves of the Great Lake, an ominous sight that left sirens firing off in the child’s head. Finally, there came a moment where no amount of hugging could retain warmth in his body – his lips blue, his tan skin pale as brown eyes fluttered tiredly closed and open, the final warning of the oncoming case of pneumonia he was surely going to suffer from later.
This brought a wave of realization over him – they couldn’t stay out, not in the current weather. He’d thought it to be his mind playing tricks on him, but now that it was on his mind, he could feel Lydia’s skin, morbidly cold, like a chunk of ice. She couldn’t stay outside any longer. "I'm sorry." She sounded weak, too – hoarse, either from the crying or the cold, her limbs positively quaking from the cold. "Thank you, Raf.” He could do little to accept the thanks – only suck in a shaky breath, trying to grasp his next words, his thoughts frazzled by the cold…
“Que decir… You want to thank me?” he asked, putting a small, concerned smile onto his face. “I want to help you, Lydia, I really do. But here’s not the place – I’m going to take you to the hospital wing, okay?”
His eyes surveyed the rocks once more, planning a safe exit route – they had to have been twice as slippery now, slick, dangerous. His own knees felt weak – Lydia’s had to have been even weaker, as she was much smaller than him, and had been outside for much longer. It was then that it dawned on him – she wouldn’t be able to climb down on her own. He looked at her again, chewing his lip numbly, wiping his running nose on his sleeve as he considered his next words carefully. How to put it…
“Can I pick you up?” [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
8 Apr 2020, 15:34
Crippled inside
Rafael's hug felt like a safe space, like a cloud that surrounded Lydia and shielded her from the rest of the world, rocking her back and forth, calming down the hurricane of thoughts and emotions that were running around her head.
As Lydia slowly came back to her senses, she started realising how cold it actually was. Through her panic attack, she didn't even notice how cold she was, her skin aching from the icy rain that kept pouring on them. Another thing she noticed was that she was shaking; not shivering, or trembling, but shaking from how desperately her body was trying to keep some heat inside.
Another thing she realised, was that she was so tired. Her limbs felt as if they were made of lead, her head was pounding, and she had struggled to open her eyes after she had closed them a couple of minutes before. It just felt so nice, to just close her eyes and feel how the sounds of the outside world stopped for a second, as she dangerously almost fell asleep.
Rafael's voice sounded somehow distant, as if he was talking from another room. What was he even saying? Hospital wing? Why would he need to bring her there? Then, as a particularly loud, and wild, thunder shook everything around them, Lydia seemed to snap out of that almost sleep, her heart beating a little faster. She wrapped her arms around herself, nodding to Rafael's question. The hospital wing sounded like a good idea, warm, dry and comfortable.
She followed Rafael with her eyes, as he observed the rocks, a concerned look on his face, and Lydia frowned. What did she even think when she had climbed all the way there? That had been incredibly stupid of her, she had put in danger not only herself but the Gryffindor boy as well, and now they would have had to climb those death traps in order to get back inside the castle. Lydia's frown only deepened as she switched her weight from one leg to the other, the injured knee protesting as it sent a shot of pain all through her leg.
Well, isn't that great?
Lydia mentally cursed, wondering how she would have managed to go back inside the castle without breaking her neck, or opening her head, on those rocks. Then, Rafael's words got her attention, and for a brief second she wondered if he was going crazy as well. She took a moment to look at him, and only then realised how cold he looked, his lips worryingly blue, and his skin slightly pale. Guilt started digging in her chest, telling her how reckless she had been behaving the way she had, and if she hadn't been crying for most of the morning, Lydia knew that she would have definitely cried, if she would have had any tears left of course.
"Yo-you want to pick me up?" she asked him, a little bit worried. If he would have picked her up, he wouldn't have had any free hands to hold onto the slippery surface of the stone, and he could have injured himself quite badly. But at the same time, the red headed girl knew that he was right; she wouldn't have been able to climb down by herself, too weak and tired, not to mention half crippled, and the only other solution would have been for him to leave the girl on the rocks, go back in the castle alone and ask for help. "Are you sure? I could wait here while you go inside and-" Lydia had to stop herself mid-thought as a sneeze caught her off guard, sending her then into a violent coughing fit.
That did not sound good, not at all.
@Rafael D'Spacito
"Everything beautiful is ruined eventually."
|| PART VEELA || ALLURING || LOVELY CREATURE || SCREAM
13 Apr 2020, 21:08
Crippled inside
@Lydia Cooper
[font=Segoe Print]"Yo-you want to pick me up?"
There was a strange sort of tone to her voice, the sort that seemed to put the Gryffindor on edge, his eyes finding a worried air as he bit his lip, searching for the meaning of her reservations. Why did she seem surprised? Worried? He supposed that his request may have sounded a bit strange, but given the circumstances, such actions seemed appropriate, right? Or was it his mind, trying to formulate excuses to get closer to her? No, that couldn’t have been the case – his hormones had utterly shut off, frozen by the freezing winds, his nose growing increasingly red and his eyes dry from the chilly air.
“Are you sure? I could wait here while you go inside and-"
Perhaps, in other circumstances, the rain having been lighter or less chilly, the two being in different conditions, he may have agreed with such an observation. However, as the time passed, he felt his limbs only growing stiffer, his core growing colder, his very eyelids weighing down and fluttering with exhaustion. No, he couldn’t in his right mind comply with such things. It wasn’t safe. And, for as terrible as he looked, the girl in front of him looked a thousand times worse – he honestly feared for her health. “I’m afraid that there won’t be enough time,” came his shaky answer, a worried frown crossing his face – he couldn’t muster a very good expression, however, his features blue and stiff. He hoped his point was obvious.
Because he was past asking for permission.
Without so much as a breath of permissive air, the Captain knelt down, his hands slipping under her cold form as his eyes surveyed the path in front of them, looking for plausible escape points. There was one interesting path – now that he was high enough, he could see a rather flat path through the rocks, enough to be able to shakily step down given some effort. It was enough to act on, he deduced. With that, he hoisted the girl up with a groan – she was quite lightweight, he absently noticed – clinging her close as to spare her some of the little body heat he still retained.
“Hope this is okay,” he apologized, before saying, “Hold on…” [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]"Yo-you want to pick me up?"
There was a strange sort of tone to her voice, the sort that seemed to put the Gryffindor on edge, his eyes finding a worried air as he bit his lip, searching for the meaning of her reservations. Why did she seem surprised? Worried? He supposed that his request may have sounded a bit strange, but given the circumstances, such actions seemed appropriate, right? Or was it his mind, trying to formulate excuses to get closer to her? No, that couldn’t have been the case – his hormones had utterly shut off, frozen by the freezing winds, his nose growing increasingly red and his eyes dry from the chilly air.
“Are you sure? I could wait here while you go inside and-"
Perhaps, in other circumstances, the rain having been lighter or less chilly, the two being in different conditions, he may have agreed with such an observation. However, as the time passed, he felt his limbs only growing stiffer, his core growing colder, his very eyelids weighing down and fluttering with exhaustion. No, he couldn’t in his right mind comply with such things. It wasn’t safe. And, for as terrible as he looked, the girl in front of him looked a thousand times worse – he honestly feared for her health. “I’m afraid that there won’t be enough time,” came his shaky answer, a worried frown crossing his face – he couldn’t muster a very good expression, however, his features blue and stiff. He hoped his point was obvious.
Because he was past asking for permission.
Without so much as a breath of permissive air, the Captain knelt down, his hands slipping under her cold form as his eyes surveyed the path in front of them, looking for plausible escape points. There was one interesting path – now that he was high enough, he could see a rather flat path through the rocks, enough to be able to shakily step down given some effort. It was enough to act on, he deduced. With that, he hoisted the girl up with a groan – she was quite lightweight, he absently noticed – clinging her close as to spare her some of the little body heat he still retained.
“Hope this is okay,” he apologized, before saying, “Hold on…” [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.