21 Jun 2018, 03:14
A New Flu
Si tu vales bene est, ego valeo.
So she was nice-- Syrah. Unique name, that was. Unique was different. Different was good... better than same, at least, and better than-- gods forbid-- normal. And so she was correct in that the girl was Slytherin. Really, it was too easy now to guess what houses each student was in; she herself was not wearing the blue and bronze tie that Ravenclaws usually donned. Really, who casually wore a tie anymore?
And this Syrah was here because of a flu. Oh, what Cel would give to have a simple flu now-- but at least her headache was fading, so now, she would not wish for a flu, because it was finally, finally over... again. You'd think that you'd get used to it after so many times, she scolded herself, but of course she had not, even if the words that filled her head during the terrible aching did not come in agony and terror now but in a long, weary sigh of here we go again.
Cel took the proffered glass gratefully and sipped from it, the cool rush of water calming and soothing the screaming dryness in her throat. It looked untouched; she should not need to worry about backwash, and besides, nobody would give a water glass they had already drank from to another, especially a stranger, right?
...Right?
"Thanks," she murmured just loud enough to be heard as she swallowed the water. "I'm Celynne-- Cel. Ravenclaw." Her words, she knew, were rather curt, but the affable tone she spoke them in should have communicated enough, she thought as she handed the glass back, thankfully not dropping it as she extended her tired arm toward the friendly girl. Guiltily she gazed down at the mess of water glass she had made with the last cup and smiled at the Slytherin girl, as if in reassurance that the action would not have an echo-- another phrase from another book.
"So you're here because of a flu?" she asked, rather conversationally. It was quite obvious why Cel was there; if Syrah still could not gather-- or anyone in the hospital room, honestly-- she was not worth making an acquaintance of. She lowered her voice so the nurse, now leaving to attend some other student at the end of the Hospital Wing, could not hear her chatter. "If you ask me, this isn't the most helpful nurse," she whispered, her eyes twinkling with laughter. "But I hope you do get better. With rest, I hope."
For a while she simply stared curiously at the girl's face, marking the featured, the manner of speaking. It was an action she knew that would be regarded as strange-- creepy, even-- by most, but she did not mind that, of course. Besides, the words that followed justified the soul-piercing gaze as she analyzed: "Are you in my Potions class, by any chance?"
Honestly, it was quite possible. She never paid attention to those around her, only looking up to the eloquent Professor Valtome-- otherwise she would simply stare down at the textbook in her lap and read. Most of the time she never memorized a single name in her classroom, save for the exceptions that she might have actually conversed with-- but then, conversations did not always result in names.