#gctekeeper

[a-velvetipped]

@gctekeeper​​  /  carol aird   (   sc !   )

                     “   just   when   you   think   things   can’t   get   any   worse   .   .   .   you   run   out   of   cigarettes.   “  

[frostcalled-blog]

Vi grimaces as she stands outside of the infirmary doors, still wearing her quidditch robes, cracking her knuckles anxiously. She was never very good at apologizing -- like, ever -- but she felt like she needed to. The Hufflepuff chaser was just-- so small, and really meek. She steps quickly into the infirmary, arms swinging casually. The girl is sitting up in bed, and Vi exhales. "So... Um... Sorry I broke your arm. My bad."

She doesn’t really need to be here anymore -- it was only a broken arm, and those she has discovered aren’t really a big deal in the wizarding world. She’s still going to hold off on telling her mother about it though. She still wasn’t used to the conveniences that came with magic. Still, Ashe has been watching the clock. If she gets up now, she’ll be expected to return to Defence Against the Dark Arts and well... She can afford to miss one of those lessons. 

(She can’t, but that’s not the point.) 

Her eyes lift from the book she has propped on her knees, ‘injured’ arm resting by her side atop a pillow to see Vi’s approach. It surprises her -- quidditch isn’t really known for being a gentle sport, and if every player apologised for every injury they caused, noone would have time to play. Still, she’s not going to turn the girl away. She shrugs, with a smile that quickly dissolves into a hiss of pain. Not quite as healed as she thought. 

“It’s okay,” she says, free hand massaging the sore muscles in her upper arm. “That’s quidditch, right?” A flash of teeth. 

“It wouldn’t be as fun if there wasn’t risk of incredible maiming.”