When going to hide PV Bridget Finished

As Ruthie stared, Bridget stuttered. Oh, Merlin, she was spreading the inability to speak across to others like some kind of disease. The first few words seemed like they could have been a comforting lie, but with the way that Bridget staggered, it only felt like a dig at the truth: a casual encounter turned into deep soul-searching.

And the truth was rather perplexing: she couldn't leave. She couldn't leave after she had left before. Was this guilt? The very guilt that had kept the blonde from doing anything remotely normal for weeks? Blinking, Ruthie trudged back into her own memory. She knew she had seen Bridget there that night. It was something with a tablecloth, wasn't it? She'd been near Thora before Thora had come to the Ravenclaw's aid. But then what? "You left?" Ruthie asked rhetorically, looking across at her companion. Quite frankly, Ru couldn't have kept track of who left and who stayed that night if her life depended on it; she was much too busy caring frankly and somewhat ineffectually for others.

By now, she noticed Bridget was beginning to be, well, not okay. And if anyone was an expert in what "not okay" looked like, it was Ruthie. But that didn't mean she knew how to stop it. Quite the contrary, her not-okay state had been going on for weeks. The only thing she could fall back on was her honesty: "You were smart. I've never been so terrified in my life. Why do think I'm like this now? You were smart to get out while you could. It wasn't your friends dying." She wasn't exactly looking to comfort Bridget--comfort didn't work when you were broken--but just to give her some truth.

Bridget did, thankfully, turn back around to face her. Once again, she extended the broom out in front of her as an offer of friendship, almost. Staring down at it and then back at her companion, the Ravenclaw listened closely to the Slytherin's words. If it had been me... That was perhaps the kindest thing she heard in weeks, even though it did cause her legs to go limp and her eyes to well up at the memory. For weeks, she'd felt other people's stares on her skin, other people's whispers about her in the corridors, other people's judgement hanging over her like a devious parasole keeping the darkness inside. And none of them, it seemed came from a place of empathy.

But this did. And in that moment, despite the awkwardness that had proceeded it, she imagined she saw what Thora saw in Bridget: a thoughtful soul. So, she smiled and reached out to grab the handle of the Nimbus. Cupping her fingers around it, she pulled it towards her slightly. "Okay, thank you. I bet it makes for a great fly!" she chirped. The wood did feel nice in her hands--smooth and fresh. Call it purely the name brand power, but the Nimbus had a certain aura about it. "Just a lap or two, then," she explained, not wanting to risk breaking it or anything. There was no way she'd be able to repay Bridget should something happen. But hopefully, the something had already happened: a bizarre moment of truth, a light in the darkness.

For @Bridget Collins

@Ruthie Greer

Bridget frowned slightly, trying to fit Ruthie's words in with what she thought she'd understood. Ruthie hadn't known she'd left the ball before everyone was safe. Didn't know she'd been too scared to go back in when Thora did. The Ravenclaw said she'd been smart to get out while she could, and while Bridget considered it more cowardice than intelligence, the compliment of sorts solidified the idea she'd been struggling to grasp at. Ruthie didn't hate her. She wasn't sure what had caused Ruthie to back away from her at the errand, but it had nothing to do with an abhorrence of Bridget.

It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders; the brunette was finally able to relax a little. And it only got better, as the next moment Ruthie accepted her broom. Quickly swiping away the wetness from her eyes, Bridget led the way out of the broom shed. A grin of satisfaction formed--somehow, she'd gotten this right and made someone's day better.

The smile faded as Ruthie mounted, though. Before she could stop it, her mind had fixated on a particularly selfish thought. Could she trust the first year with her broom? The purchase of the Nimbus had cost her all her savings, and she hadn't even been able to play a game with it yet. While Ruthie was a Quidditch player, she was also a first year with less flying experience. Besides, even if she was a flying ace, the best fliers could still have a slip and crash. Wringing her fingers, the small girl silently watched Ruthie and her Nimbus. Bridget couldn't take back her offer now. Ruthie had gone from all alone to crying to genuinely excited about flying Bridget's broom--how could she be so awful as to even consider stopping her from just taking a lap? Selfish at the ball, selfish now.

The feel of Bridget's Nimbus was everything she thought it would be. Smooth with its recent polishing, the broom seemed to fit so naturally into her younger hands. As she mounted the broom, she sat back for a moment, just floating there. It seemed surreal to handle a proper racing broom like this. Sure, her Comet was much better than a school broom, but it paled in comparison to the speed a Nimbus could provide.

Giving the Slytherin a soft smile, she reared forward and sped up for her lap or two cruise around the training pitch. Right out of the gate, the Nimbus seemed faster than her Comet. While she loved the rush and the feeling of the wind in her hair, she kept a firm grip on the handle so as to maneuver it well. Now that she'd gotten past the awkwardness, she didn't want to incur a crash or anything like that. By the time she reached the opposing goal posts, she sped up and went higher like it were a match and she had a scoring opportunity. Looking at the pitch from this vantage was nothing short of exhilarating. But she kept a strong sense of where she was so as to return and touch back down after two laps, just as she had stated earlier. Ru wasn't one to go back on her word.

The ground felt sort of softer as she touched back down and stepped off the broom. The wind still billowing through her hair, she held the broom out to Bridget, addressing, "That was amazing; a wicked broom you've got. Though I suppose you already know that." Not the most coherent comment she'd ever made, but it had the benefit of being true. As she worked to catch her breath, she looked up at Bridget. The brunette had gone, in Ru's mind, from being a trigger to a super awkward encounter to almost nice person.

Ruthie bit her lip before her honesty got the better of her: "You're okay, you know, Bridget." She'd been avoiding people, especially people who were at the ball, like crazy, even physically moving away from them. She couldn't recall exactly who, but she remembered catching herself in the act. And as evidenced by earlier, she clearly couldn't talk properly to people anymore. It was awful. But if she had made some sort of connection with Bridget, that might just be a sign of recovery. A small step, but one nonetheless.

She didn't really have anything to do, but she also didn't want to keep Bridget, who probably had better things to do. "I better get back to avoiding people. I'm awful good at it now. Sometimes, I even catch myself moving away from people. I guess it comes with the nightmares," she explained, going a little red in the cheeks. She hadn't meant to tell Bridget about the night terrors. Only Lark knew about those because she had them too. But she didn't want ordinary people to have any more reason to think she was a freak. Maybe Bridget would forget she had said it? Yeah, that would be good. After all, Bridget was okay now, more or less.

For @Bridget Collins

@Ruthie Greer

Bridget's concerns for the safety of her broom, selfish as they were, turned out to be unfounded. Ruthie was an excellent flier--it was no wonder the first year had made her House Quidditch team. The blonde moved effortlessly through the air, each maneuver swift and precise. Being on the ground allowed her to witness the beauty of the broom rider gliding through the air. She wondered if she looked so graceful when she flew.

The Slytherin was impressed with Ruthie's strict adherence to her promise of just two laps. Remembering vividly the thrill she felt when she'd first ridden the Nimbus, she knew full well it was an experience you didn't want to end. "I'm glad you liked it," she responded, accepting the broom back.

Then, Ruthie said she was... okay. Normally, Bridget wouldn't have considered being "okay" much of a compliment, but coming from the younger girl, it felt genuine. In fact, it was probably the nicest thing someone had said to her as of late. And on top of that, it made one thing crystal clear. Whatever had happened at the errand was either a fluke or something she'd since made up for.

"Thanks. You're, um, you're okay too." Bridget gave the Ravenclaw a smile, but it faded when Ruthie said she'd best get back to avoiding people. Not wanting Ruthie to feel bad, she dropped her gaze to the grass to hide the shift in expression. She was rather disappointed to be parting ways already, which was rather uncharacteristic for the Slytherin, what with her tendency of avoiding conversations with strangers. After the Ball, though, Thora had been avoiding her a lot, so she supposed that might have left her desperate for someone to talk to. And, somehow, she found herself feeling worried about Ruthie. Sitting in a broom shed avoiding people wasn't normal, even for an introvert like Bridget. Combine that with the knowledge Ruthie sometimes moved away from people and had nightmares, and somehow she felt an urge to protect this girl. Like she wanted to fix Ruthie's problems and make sure she was okay.

"It was nice meeting you, Ruthie. Hopefully I'll see you around." She grinned, and, attempting to pass it off as a joke, said, "Don't stay in that shed all day." With a little, semi-awkward wave, Bridget mounted her Nimbus and took off, looping the Pitch for the flying practice she'd came here for.

Bridget Collins has left the thread.