Crumpled Papers & Spilled Ink PV Bridget

@Annie Morgan

Bridget was in the library, comfortable in her normal spot with a warm sweater on. To have a 'spot', one had to be a frequenter of the location, which was certainly true for her, occupying one particular desk tucked along the wall nearly daily. She liked the security of a wall to her side--that way people couldn't approach from all directions--and she liked the light of a nearby window. Lately, it became where she spent most of her time, not just to do homework as usual. Comparable to her first year, when she had no sports commitments and a burning curiosity to understand the world she'd found herself in, the comfort of familiarity and distraction of work drew her to the room of high shelves.

Today had been pretty productive, and so she was feeling good. Her focus would eventually be interrupted, but at least she'd gotten things done by then. It started with mostly ignorable sounds, soft thumps and a chair scratching along the floor, only overheard because of the hushed library atmosphere. But her head perked up at a shout. That... was certainly out of place. And the nature of the cry, someone clearly not having a good time, was sad to hear. To be driven to voice it, that must have been some tough rejection.

It was the sort of thing you couldn't ignore, but felt inclined to pretend didn't happen. The person probably hadn't meant to announce their problems to anyone in the room, and for the rest of them to keep their heads down, eyes glued on their own business, they offered an out of sorts. A pass for the outburst, and if the person wasn't within sight of anyone, their identity might even remain unknown. That was what Bridget tried to do. But she couldn't stop thinking about it, and she felt bad. A cry for help was what that was, right? Maybe she should at least check to see they were okay, there had been a lot of noise going on.

After another minute of deliberation, she packed up her things. Was she sure about this? It was really none of her business... Just check. The noise had completely stopped, besides, which was possibly more worrying. Hesitantly, she followed where it sounded like the person was as best as she could. It was possible she wouldn't even know if she'd found the right person. But a little weaving between shelves later, it was obvious. The sight stopped her in her tracks: papers littered the floor and ink was everywhere, including on the figure who sat with her head in her arms. This was someone she knew, one Annie Morgan. They weren't friends, certainly didn't know each other well, but shared classes and, at one point, a sport.

"Annie?" Her voice was quiet, partly to comply with library standards but also for her uncertainty. "Um, it's Bridget." Are you okay was probably a good follow-up question. But the answer to that was pretty obvious, wasn't it? Instead, she reached for her wand and aimed for the general area of the table and Annie. "Scourgify." That would take care of the pooling, spreading black, and not being covered in ink had to be an improvement.

The other mess was the paper. What was all of it? She leaned down, selecting one of the balled pieces of parchment at random and straightening it out. The handwriting was messy, which of course it was. How Annie managed to write at all without sight, Bridget didn't know. It was addressed to a Calli and, amidst all the crossed-out starts to sentences, asked if they could still be friends. It was an intrusion to read the letter, yes, but she was already butting in and wanted some idea of what she was dealing with. "Friend issues?" Annie surely already heard the paper wrinkling, no use pretending she hadn't looked.

After a few minutes of silence where the brunette had wasted all her energy on screaming and let out her frustration on the table and paper the quietness was interrupted by a voice. A somewhat familiar and gentle voice. It wasn't perhaps the most soothing as it made Annie snap her head up quickly, the reaction to her name being called when she usually wasn't paying attention. Following the question, being that the other person was trying to figure out who she was, the figure in turn introduced themselves. Bridget, a girl the same year as her yet she was sorted into Slytherin and chose Dueling of Quidditch.

Another pause was held as the table got cleaned up, feeling less damp and probably looking a lot cleaner than before. ".. Thanks." She mumbled quietly to the girl. Her skin would prickle and she'd tense up lightly as she heard a piece of paper get picked up by the slight ruffling it made. More silence filled the air. What was going to happen next shocked her. Bridget's voice sounded caring almost, not a note of curiosity or prying into too much detail, just simply asking her what was going on. "Uh.. yeah something like that. Any suggestions?" Annie tilted her head towards the girl's voice and possible direction. Maybe she could help.. even if she didn't tell her the exact situation. Hearing someone else's thoughts besides hers might be helpful.

Interacting with:@Bridget Collins

@Annie Morgan

There was very much the concern that she'd stepped over some line, approaching Annie while she was so clearly in a rough spot and prying into some of those details. Bridget wasn't sure how she would feel about it, were the roles reversed. A breakdown wasn't something you wanted an audience for, but maybe it was nice to know someone was concerned. A relative stranger had the advantage of being unbiased and unlikely to use the conversation for anything; save for perhaps gossips, people didn't typically have cause for bringing up someone largely irrelevant to their daily lives. If Annie would let her, Bridget didn't mind being a listening ear.

Annie didn't seem like she was hating every second of this or mentally willing her to leave, in fact asking for suggestions. At this, Bridget tilted her head to the side. Suggestions? She supposed she did know a thing or two about friend issues. Resolving them, too, at least sort of. Katrina was friends with her again, but it was still awkward sometimes. They seemed to be holding each other at arm's length, or Bridget was. What had happened--the words, the hurt--didn't go away because of a few apologies. But it was better than those months where they spoke not a word to each other. Chipped pottery could be glued back together, and despite the lines telling the story of what happened, it was very clearly a pot again, a whole piece.

What about Annie's situation? Her yell had mentioned rejection, which wasn't quite the same as a fight. With so few details, though, maybe it was just best to speak from experience. "Well," she started, slowly. Not thinking through her words had run her into trouble before, and she would hate to give Annie poor advice. "If you were good friends, there's a chance they want that back just as much as you do. I think... you give it time, to see things straight. And if you think you might have done something wrong, an apology can go a long way."

That possibility she'd been directly rejected was the complicating factor. It was hard to know if someone really meant that or if emotions were getting the best of the situation. She knew she hadn't sought out Katrina in part because she'd all but said she wanted nothing more of Bridget. "Talking face-to-face probably helps for picking up tone and things, but a letter is a good place to start if you're not ready for that," she added, clearly meaning the papers littering the floor. Perhaps note-writing wasn't much easier, forcing you to overthink every word. That did mean no words spilling out of your mouth that you wished you could take back, which to Bridget seemed well-worth dozens of failed drafts.

Bridget had stayed quiet for awhile which unnerved Annie. Maybe she was too vague.. but then again it wasn't like Bridget was trying to pry nor did Annie want to fully open up to her since it was a.. sensitive topic of sorts that you wouldn't go around sharing with just anyone. The voice of the girl startled her from her in-depth thoughts, making her turn and tilt her head to show she was listening. Being that she gave a vague question or more of a plead for help she got a very.. ominous answer as to be expected.

Taking a few minutes to decipher it and think through what Bridget said she'd open her mouth to reply. "It seems everything has to do with patience and waiting and time.. I suppose your right. Although I can't really get a hold of them to apologize thus the letters. So maybe it is a sign that they just need time. I could use the time too, well I have been but then I just reflect and get frustrated or upset and this stuff happens." She'd wave her hands to the still messy balls of paper crumpled on the floor. Annie ran a hand through her hair, getting stuck on a small knot and tugging with a small irritated noise.

"Have you had.. any sort of situation like this. Friends or what not other relationships. I mean.. you don't have to share but--" She'd fidget with her robe sleeves, secretly wanting to hear if Bridget had any story similar to hers. "We all go through something like this at some point right? I guess I just thought it wouldn't hurt this much.. or it wouldn't happen to me." Annie scratched behind her head with a small deflated sigh, still deep in thought. Should she still try to write a letter? Maybe with the help of Bridget it won't be a bunch of emotional fluff.. or maybe she should just let it be. Let time sort itself out and whatever happens, happens.

@Bridget Collins

@Annie Morgan

While Annie picked through her words, Bridget kneeled down on the floor to pick up the mess of papers. There were a few too many to carry them as they were, the balls liable to fall out of her arms, so she got to work straightening and stacking each one in turn. These she didn't read, since her look at the first one had only been to get a grasp on the situation. That had felt like something she maybe shouldn't be doing as it was, anything further would be unnecessary prying into details. It was much fairer to let Annie share them herself aloud as she saw fit.

She had gotten through a few when Annie spoke up with her deciphered summary. "Something like that," she agreed. "But you also don't want to wait too long." Another crumpled letter was smoothed out. "I think... if you've had at least a few days to cool off, maybe you could send a letter asking to meet? If they agree, you know where to find them and if they're ready to talk." She wished she'd done that. It had taken more than a few days to "cool off," granted. It was a while before missing her friend overrode the anger and hurt she felt whenever she thought about Katrina, but when that had happened, she should have reached out. The longer she waited, the harder it was to do anything.

Annie then asked if she had any experience. She probably should have expected the question, it being kind of obvious she knew what she was talking about. And that was fine. She hadn't tried to avoid hinting at that because it didn't seem like something she had to hide. It had happened, and now she was steadily putting it behind her. Pausing her work on the papers, she nodded, though of course Annie couldn't see it. "I have." After a moment of debate, determining how much she wanted to share, she decided she could say a bit more than that. Annie was looking for assurance she wasn't alone in this and had already been plenty open about her situation. "I had a fight with my friend. We didn't talk to each other for a while. And it did hurt, a lot." The last part was a little quieter. It was still hard to believe one of her closest relationships had fallen apart just like that. How could something so important be so fragile?

"But we're friends again, now." She could provide that bit of hope to Annie. That every instance of falling out had a similarly happy ending was something she lacked the idealism to believe, but she hoped it would for the Hufflepuff. Losing someone really sucked. Maybe fixing something like this took time, took humility, but as long as it ended well it was worth it, right?