who: max m. (@fatebinds) where: satanic panic practice
Callista arrived late to practice, though it wasn't entirely her fault. It wasn't because she overslept or missed her alarm. It wasn't due to traffic or delays at The Scoop making her matcha. No, the reason was far more unexpected. As she woke from a nap, she was hit with the worst bout of morning sickness she had experienced yet. Rushing to the bathroom, she had left her phone on her bed, unable to leave until she felt stable enough to avoid a mess on her bedroom carpet. She had read a theory that pregnancy symptoms could intensify once known, and Callista was beginning to believe it.
By the time she made it to practice, she brushed off Max and the others' comments about her tardiness. Offering little explanation beyond a couple of eye rolls and curt remarks to "shut up and play," she tuned out their chatter and focused solely on her drumming. It was her sanctuary, the one place where she could escape the stress and pretend everything else in her life didn't exist. Lost in her rhythm, she didn't notice the passage of time until she heard a loud, angry voice bark her name.
Startled, Callista jerked her head up, drumsticks slamming against the drumhead and hoop, causing them to chip. "What?!" she snapped sharply, irritation laced in her voice.