The Wounded Bird PV Closed

It was dark inside the blonde girl's head. Currently, she was experiencing the last decent dream she would have for some time. So when she felt something scratching her head, the words, "Oy, with the poodles already!" escaped her mouth in a low muffle. Maybe there was something unconcious in her spirit wanting to cheer the boy up. After all, how can you hear the word 'oy' and not smile? It was so bizarre.

But as a voice added to tapping on her head, she soon came to. Turning her head over gently and blinking, she smiled as she looked over to see Jorah, alive and awake. "Hey," she greeted him, before she realized she was awake and he had asked a plethora of questions. Acknowledging his confusion and eagerness for answers, she sat up in her chair. "I’m okay," she confirmed, a bit surprised his first concern for would be for her considering all he went through. "We are at St Mungo’s in London," she explained, "They’re taking care of you. Just try not to move too much." Having heard the horseness in his voice, she reached for the pitcher on his bedside table to pour him a glass of water. Offering it to him, she looked up at his face. It didn't look bad considering. No, it looked great. How was it he always looked great?

But despite this, he also looked uncertain. He had questions she didn't want to answer, but she had no choice. She had to be honest with him. That was her way, but somehow, this time she searched inside for something vaguely resembling tact. "There was a knife at the ball," she began, her voice already unsteady, "Some crazed student had one. It punctured your lung and you blacked out. Thora bandaged the area and Adam carried you out of the hall. We took you to the hospital wing, but your injuries were so severe that one of the nurses apparated us here." Her tone was restrained, almost clinical. If she showed the emotion she actually felt, the guilt that weighed on her shoulders and that grow in the coming days and weeks, she would surely break. And she couldn't bare for him to see that. Instead, she placed her right hand on his forearm as she spoke for some attempt at connection, but she took it away once she relayed the night's events. A comforting arm was no excuse for what had happened and her part in what had happened.

Still, she would try, somewhat in vain, to make it up to him. "I brought you something from the gift shop on the fifth floor," she announced, trying to smile. He'd had to go into surgery immediately so she'd had to wait, which was terrible. Eventually, she got tired of pacing so she visited the hospital tea shop for a cup of earl grey, which she promptly threw up from the stress of it all. (If only Thora had been there to hold back her hair while she hurled.) But it was after leaving the women's room that she spied the gift shop. It killed time to aimlessly circle the racks, until she realized she might as pay for something besides tissues. Ruthie did not come from money, but she knew her parents would get her something if the situation was reversed. (Merlin, what would Jorah's parents think?) Luckily, she had had a couple galleons in her handbag at the time.

Reaching into a white shopping bag that had lain on the floor next to her feet as she slept, she pulled out a bright red plush toy phoenix and offered to him. The bird was soft and lush with bright black buttons for eyes and long magic-made stitches across the seams. It wasn't very much, but hopefully it might cheer him up or comfort him at night. "Oh, and these!" she added, when she recalled she had also gotten a box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans. They weren't her favorite sweet, but they were cheaper than the Chocolate Frogs. Plus, they might be a decent way to pass the time. She laid them by his hand before leaning slightly in her chair. It was only then she noticed the blood--both his and Dymph's--on her dress. With a hand, she tried to wave it away, but blood stains last forever.

Tag: @Jorah Moussa

"Oy, with the poodles already!" Ruthie let out as Jorah tried to rouse her awake. Poodles? Haha, what is she dreaming about? The sleeping beauty awoke from her slumber, her stormy grey eyes meeting Jorah's. She looked happy to see him, but her tired gaze held a hint of dismay which was not easily hidden from her best friend. What had those eyes seen? Ruthie explained to Jorah that they were at St. Mungos. She kindly poured him a glass of water. He grabbed the glass with his non-dominant hand and gave it a sip. The ice water was the most refreshing sensation he had ever experienced in his life. He threw the glass back, gulping down the water in seconds. "Aah, that hit the spot, thank you," he finished, handing the glass back to Ruthie. He gave his dry and cracking lips a few licks with his tongue before biting at the peeling skin. The biting was a habit he picked up in the winter months when his lips would get chapped.

Ruthie went on to explain how it was a student who had stabbed him with a knife and how he had just come out of surgery to repair his lung. "Wait wait wait, it was a student?! Why? Who? Was he working with the part giants? Is that how they got in?!" Jorah's mind was racing with questions, his hands tightly griping the hospital bed in his anger. When the part giant attacked him and Ruthie, Jorah maimed him with a bat. Whoever this person was, he had done more damage to Jorah than the part giants did. It only made sense that the assailant's punishment should be more severe. Jorah held onto his rage, controlling it and filing it away in the back of his mind for the moment he would get his revenge. He replaced his anger with gratitude for his saviors. "Well its a good thing I had you guys to look out for me. I don't know how or if I can ever repay you. Ha, If I'm counting correctly, this is the second time you've save me Ru and we're not even half way through the year yet!" Jorah gave her a smile. For all of his strength, he was quickly becoming her damsel in distress who constantly needed saving.

As if saving his life wasn't enough, Ruthie had gotten Jorah some gifts too! She pulled out of her shopping bag a plush red phoenix. "Wow thanks, Ru! I love the symbolism! A rebirth from the ashes." He motioned to the soot on Ruthie's dress. "I think this phoenix and us have something in common. Plus, I could use the healing properties of this bird's tears right about now. Hmm, but what should we name him...how about...Joaquin, Joaquin the Phoenix."

Jorah's stomach began to rumble. What time was it? When was the last time I ate?, he wondered. As if reading his mind, Ruthie procured a box of goodies, Berties Bott's Every Flavored Beans. "Ooh yes!" Jorah ripped open the box and fished around for his favorite flavored beans. He picked out a few white beans with yellow speckles. "Ok some of these will be delicious, buttered popcorn flavored, the others not so much and will taste like rotten eggs. The problem is they look exactly the same so we'll just have to take turns trying them. I'll test the first couple for you." Jorah bit into half of one of the jelly beans. The flavor of popcorn danced on his tongue. "Gross, you don't want to try this one," he lied, storing the other half of the bean back into the box for later. He took a bite of another bean and was overcome with the taste of putrid eggs. He washed the bean down with some water. "Mmm delicious, try this one, Ru." He handed her the other half of the bean.

Tag: @Ruthie Greer

"You're welcome" she said softly before gritting her teeth together, expecting him to either collapse back into his bed from the effects of his injuries or flare out angrily, in which case hopefully his new stuffed phoenix would hopefully help quell the emotion. Wrapping her fingers around the glass, she returned it safely to bedside table. If only it could be that easy to return to a time before the Ball. Unfortunately that was just life: tragedy struck without notice.

In regards to her storytelling, it seemed Jorah was in shock as he stopped her, questioning if it was a student working for the part giants and what they're motives might be. To be honest, these were all very good questions, none of which had entered the young girl's brain. She had been too busy being a wreck, screaming and crying in fear. "Yes, a student," she confirmed, putting a comforting hand on his forearm, "I don't know who, and I don't know why. They were young, not much older than us, and with unnaturally bright red hair. They were wearing a sort of tuxedo and a mischievous expression." Looking down at the floor again momentarily, she knew that was not a great description, but she also knew she'd recognize this girl with the curious face if that time ever presented itself. And she'd be livid. It may have been a second, but it was a second Ruthie would carry with her from now on.

Her attention was drawn back to the boy when he calmed he didn't know how he'd repay his helpers. She couldn't help chuckling at his absurd claim that this was the second time she'd saved him. The Quidditch match was fair, but this time she only tried. The reality was she probably would have lost him if it hadn't been for Thora. "I didn't do very much," she admitted softly, wiping some excess liquid that had welled up in the corner of her right eye at the memory of seeing the boy on the floor, bleeding, just as Dymph had been moments earlier. "Gris was great, though," she added, desperately wanting to change the subject, "she broke a giant's jaw. No wonder she's Prefect with that kind of bravery." It was kind of amazing actually that someone so young could accomplish such a feat. She only knew Gris from the owlery, but Ru was getting to admire the older girl.

"Yeah, exactly," she chirped when she saw how pleased he was with the plush toy, "You'll be just fine like a phoenix." That last part was a prayer more than anything else. Though, he did seem on the mend, thank goodness. "Thora should be bringing me some clean clothes," Ruthie explained when Jorah motioned to her dress. She tried to wipe away the soot earlier, but it was no use. She was, quite frankly, a shambles. The silvery fabric had been drenched in patches of ash and blood, an unsavory combination. The hem had been chewed up by her attempts at bandaging both the boy and the Veela, thereby sitting somewhat unfashionably above the knee. But she tried not to show any discomfort at her own condition or concern over how Thora was going to get a Professor to apparate her here over something as simple as clothes when there were people wounded and traumatized up at the school. But this wasn't about her. This was about him. "Wah-what?" she said automatically, never having heard that name before. It was about the same reaction when non-Scots learned more traditional gaelic names. Still, she regretted it as soon as she said it. Whatever Jorah wanted to name the boy was what it would be. "Joa-Joaqiun is perfect," she agreed.

Thankfully, the awkwardness seemed to pass when her fellow Ravenclaw expressed profuse excitement over the Bertie Botts. She'd had them before at Quidditch matches, but she let him explain as she gently nodded her head. Having him test them out seemed like a good idea. It was kinder than her sister Kirsty hoarding the blueberry ones. The first one he tried, it seemed, was a dud. "What was it?" she asked curiously but before he could answer, he'd found something great apparently. She took from his hand. Yellow. Perhaps lemon or popcorn? But as she popped into her mouth and started chewing, neither lemon nor popcorn would reveal themselves. Instead, she found herself a victim to rotten eggs. Grossed out, she coughed up quickly and spat it out onto the floor. "You right eejit!" she said with a smirk while lightly hitting him lightly on the shoulder. At least he had a sense of humor left. Holding up the box, she said, "Go on then, try your luck." Hopefully, he'd encounter some karma when he'd reach for a bean this time. Then again, if messing with her made him happy, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. He deserved some levity after all he'd been through.

Interacting with @Jorah Moussa. You can jump in now @Thora Larkston.

@Ruthie Greer | @Jorah Moussa

St. Mungo's was not unlike a Muggle hospital, and both were equally foreign to Thora. Luck resulted in the Larkston family rarely ending up in hospitals. If they got sick, her mother could treat them at home. Anything short of a broken bone was simply wrapped up without drama and treated with some rest and farm-fresh air. Besides, it wasn't easy to reach a well-staffed hospital able to successfully treat life-threatening situations when they lived in the little town of Dingle.

However, the whitewashed walls and scent of sickness St. Mungo's much was like the Hospital Wing back at Hogwarts--perhaps too much so. The white sheets everywhere she glanced sent a flood of memories into her brain, none of them positive. Well, some of them were. Still, it seemed that a sense of foreboding came with hospitals, a sense of horror that meant scary and sometimes incurable injuries.

While Thora felt incredibly out of place in the new, strange place she had just entered, she wasted no time in barraging the nurse who, after a while of pleading, had apparated her here, with relentless questions. "Please, where are they? Do you know where they are? Jorah and Ruthie?" Thora'd already caused the Ravenclaws enough grief, having failed to follow them and instead gone back to continue helping, and every second she spent away from them brought her guilt to a whole new level.

While Ruthie and Jorah had left the ballroom with some older boy she didn't know, Thora had ditched them, running back in instead. Despite her intentions and attempts, she hadn't even done anything to help the situation, having failed to cast Leviosa and stood and watched as the candy-crazed kid finished the last of us mad glomping. However hard she tried, she would always be the same. Useless and pathetic.

It hadn't been until Thora had hunted down Dan, who was being kidnapped by some phony Headmaster, and seen Saskia to the Hospital Wing that she had remembered her promise. Her promise. How utterly stupid could she be to forget a statement with such weight and mattered so much? And so, a blood-spattered, exhausted Thora laden with guilt, two fresh sets of clothes, and a blanket off her four-poster bed in the dorm had tripped to Hogwarts' medical ward and begged every single one of the nurses to take her to St. Mungo's until one finally gave in.

"The nurses told me that they're in there," the reluctantly cooperating nurse gestured to a closed door, chuckling softly. "Thanks," Thora whispered before flying down the hallway, knocking on the door, and bursting inside. And stopped. What the heck was she even doing? Ruthie she had met mere hours ago, and as for Jorah, she could only match name to face.

"I-I hope I'm not interrupting anything here," Thora stuttered as green eyes darted nervously from one eagle to the other. They seemed to be doing just fine, despite their appearances that clearly revealed the hardships they had just survived. Speaking of which, Thora looked just the same way. Her outfit didn't even match, as during her mad dash down to her dorm (curse the stupid stairs), the girl had swiftly swapped her burnt, stained dress boots for sturdier combat boots. While she hadn't had the time to change out of her originally-green dress (which was crusty and brown at the bottom with several people's blood), Thora had grabbed a change--actually, two changes--of clothes. Somehow, she had found two pairs of black jeans, a two hoodies, one midnight-blue and the other emerald, with minimal digging. Well, that was perfect. They could even match their house colors in a hospital, late at night, where life and death mattered more than being away from school for a few hours. Despite her belonging to the house of Slytherin, Thora was wise enough to realize that tonight would be a very, very long night.

"Are you guys doing okay? Ruthie, I brought you the change of clothes and a blanket if you want. And sorry I'm kind of late, a lot happened…" Thora trailed off, glancing between the two younger students. This was terribly, terribly awkward. And it was all because of her. Why did she have to be such a little pathetic hermit? One would think that she herself would know, but the truth was she really had no idea. Shutting the door quietly behind her, Thora waited for a response. After all, she wasn't here for herself.

Thank you guys so much for letting me join!!!  

Jorah listened intensely as Ruthie did her best to describe the student who attacked him. Young...bright red hair...a tuxedo? Who did he know that matched such a description? Nothing was ringing a bell, but atleast Jorah knew what to look out for. It was a redheaded boy, likely a first or second year that stabbed him. Whoever this guy was, there would be hell to pay when Jorah found him.

Jorah thanked Ruthie for saving him again, but her reaction made him sad. "I didn't do very much," she said, wiping away a newly formed tear. "Gris was great, though, she broke a giant's jaw. No wonder she's Prefect with that kind of bravery." Jorah replied, "Wow! Gris sounds like badass." Jorah wanted to be able to break a giant's jaw. He felt strong enough, but he lacked the skill to channel his strength. Maybe Gris could teach him Kung Fu. How else was he going to elevate himself from damsel in distress to Ruthie's protector. He didn't like the idea of asking a Gryffindor for help, but getting stabbed changes a person. "That's not true you know." He tenderly grabbed her right hand in his. "You did so much! You're here now. If I had to wake up to anyone...Im glad it was you. And you're plenty brave! You're the toughest girl I know. I bet you'd make one hell of a prefect. In fact...yes, you should apply to be our next Prefect! I believe in you Ru."

Moments later came the gift exchange. Ruthie agreed that Joaquin was good name. Then came the treats which Ruthie had so thoughtfully purchased. The second bean was a disgusting rotten egg flavor, but Jorah managed to conceal his disgust and trick Ruthie into eating the other half. "You right eejit!," she called out while hitting his shoulder. "Hahahahaha Ow! haha," Jorah had laughed until the he felt a sharp pain shoot through his back. The smirk on Ruthie's face was worth the pain, but he would have to be more careful until he was fully healed. She urged him to try another bean. He pulled out an orange bean with red speckles. He gave one end a nibble before being assaulted with an overwhelming vomit flavor. A visceral "Yuck!" reflexively left his lips before he washed down the bean with some water. "Ok, this one is terrible, I swear. You don't want this one." He extended his left hand with the disgusting bean. "But this one," he pulled out from the box his first bean which was half eaten, "is actually quite good." He extended his right hand with the good bean. "You'll have to choose, Ru. Do you trust me?"

Before Ruthie could pick her poison, from behind the curtain came another student carrying a blanket and clothes. "I-I hope I'm not interrupting anything here." Thora was still in her gown, once a pretty green, but now stained brown with blood. My God what the hell happened when I passed out. I hope that's not my blood, Jorah wondered. "Are you guys doing okay? Ruthie, I brought you the change of clothes and a blanket if you want. And sorry I'm kind of late, a lot happened…" "Hey, Thora, you look...you look...I like your boots." Jorah quickly changed the subject. "Um yeah, I'm fine, thank you. Ruthie was kind enough to get me this Phoenix, he is Joaquin the Phoenix. And now were just trying some Bertie Botts. In each of my hands is half a bean. One is delicious and the other disgusting. Ruthie must choose which one to eat. You're more than welcome to join us if you want."

Tag: @Ruthie Greer @Thora Larkston