Who: Drystan Fawcett & Saoirse Mullet
What: HE IS A GOOD MENTOR
Where: Mungo's
When: this afternoon!
Having lived the life Drystan Fawcett had lived for the past twelve months, there was only one reasonable conclusion he could make:
Girls from the year 1981 were trouble.
He didn't know why that was, exactly, but it was a generalization he felt very comfortable making.
It was one thing to be in a flying accident or foul—that was part and parcel of the game, all the players knew the risk they took when kicking off. But this was most decidedly
not an injury sustained on the playing field, or really even related to the playing field, and he had been in St. Mungo's a time too many for his liking in the past two weeks. This time, he was armed with a sack containing a pint of Florean Fortescue's chocolate éclair nutty crunch flavour ice cream, probably meltier than he'd prefer, when he made his way to the Spell Damage floor. He knocked on the door, barely, before barging in and observing the patient on the side of her hospital bed, folded into the lotus position.
Never one to fare well under conditions involving extreme emotions, he thrust the sack under her nose, and gruffly uttered, "Here," which everyone who knew Drystan as well as his protégé did could hopefully discern as "Hi, how are you feeling? Is your magic back yet? I am really concerned, and I can't remember what flavour of ice cream you prefer, so I hope this will do."
Saoirse blinked, and looked down at the bag in her lap. She used her pinkie finger to peak inside, and a small smile formed when she saw its contents. She did understand what Drystan was trying to say with this gift, and it was appreciated it. Not many visitors brought things from outside (thought she supposed the effect was lost now that she left and returned on whim), and when they did, they expected.... something in return. An update? She didn’t
know, there hadn’t been a change in her status since the day she had been carted in here. So it became very annoying very quickly--- but Drystan wouldn’t do that. There was a reason why they had gotten along so well the first time they met two years ago, and until this day why Saoirse always felt he was someone she could look up to for guidance.
Unfolding her legs from underneath her for a quick stretch, Saoirse promptly curled them back so she could kneel at the end of the bed. Meditation had become her only solace in dealing with what had happened to her and Thomas. It helped her think clearly, not become aggravated with the healers, and most importantly, subdued the bubbling chaotic feelings brewing inside her concerning what would happen if her magic really was gone forever. It wasn’t, but the thought that it possibly could be had the potential to drive anyone insane. She would not go insane, obviously, because it was coming back; all she had to do was wait.
“Thank you,” she said, holding the ice cream up before popping the lid off and dipping her finger in it for a taste. “Nothing is new today,” she sighed, propping her elbows on the baseboard of the bed. “Watching practice from isn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be.” She looked at Drystan as she spoke. How Thomas seemed to become so invigorated by it was lost to her. But, being there was important, so she went.
"I can imagine," he said softly, rubbing at his jaw with his knuckles. It was difficult enough having to be a part of the playing world when out on an injury, but to have to sit out and observe because you legitimately
couldn't play, well—that, Drystan had trouble imagining, after all. Not being the type to hover, he stood almost impassively at the foot of her hospital bed, but if he
were the type, his hands would be fluttering quite uselessly by his sides as he warred between the urge to hug her or pat her on the head.
Luckily (even though he was not the type), Saoirse likely would not be able to stand it, so that helped him keep any latent hovering tendencies at bay.
Instead, he looked around the drably cheerful room, somehow being both sterile and a bit like a bedroom someone forgot to straighten up. His gaze fell on one of the more alien objects in the room, a table someone must have brought in, with wands laid out in once-orderly rows. As much as he really didn't want to dwell on it, he could only think of one use for the set-up, and that was an evidently futile attempt at getting Saoirse to channel her magic again. For a dreadful moment, he flashed back to after his sister had been taken, then returned home, and the disorientation and confusion she'd suffered hampered her magical ability. That had been for a few days at most, but for Saoirse...
Rather than saying what was really on his mind, such as, "You girls need to stay in lock-down with guards on you the whole bleeding day," he nodded towards the wands, then looked back at Saoirse. "Got an experiment going, have you?"
She turned to follow Drystan’s gaze and sucked in her cheeks when she realized to what he was referring. “Oh, that,” Saoirse said, eyes locking on the formerly neat set-up of wands by her bed briefly before turning back. When the healers had originally brought them in, she had understood the point; but the more they stayed there, the more it aggravated her. Having them here, day in and day out, staring--- judging... it seriously disrupted her meditation. Now, their constant presence did nothing except remind her of how they wouldn’t spark in her hands.
But, deciding to not harp on this thought and stay
composed, Saoirse instead shrugged her shoulders and fell backward onto the bed. “Nothing happens,” she explained, keeping a strict gaze at the ceiling as she spoke. Even if she did get her magic back, wasn’t there the possibility that none of this wands would work for her? It seemed like a large flaw in the plan, and she did not live her life with plans with large flaws, thank you very much. She capped the ice cream after another quick taste.
“Look,” she said, reaching over her head to grab one of the closest wands off the table. Saoirse brought herself back up to sitting straight, and she swished it around nonchalantly, with no effect. The healers would be mad that she was doing this without anyone present, but that really was not her concern. It wasn’t like they were missing anything.
Pointing in Drystan’s general direction, she flicked it a couple more times. “Nothing. Noth---” Saoirse started, but lost her words when she watched a spark shoot out from the tip. Her eyes went wide as she immediately stopped moving, unable to trust her own eyes, and her short-term memory.
"'Nothing' what, now?" Drystan asked, hardly daring to blink. Had his eyes just played tricks on him? If so, that was possibly the cruelest thing they'd ever done. But surely they hadn't, because Saoirse had frozen as well. Her expression mirrored the exact bewilderment he was feeling, so to do something, anything, he in turn picked up a clumsy handful of the magical instruments on the bedside table and dumped them on her lap.
Giving his head a little shake, he waved his hands at them and barely managed to sputter, "Again—do that again."
Was that---! Had she---! What had---! She hadn’t even been thinking about a spell! The wand must just be upset with her, she
had been flinging it around rather haphazardly, no one would like that--- Saoirse clutched the wand tightly, her heart racing with her mind. She looked down at pile of wands in front of her, wanting to try another, but... what if this one was special? What if this one would only work for her and nothing else would in the entire world------!
Now was not the time to be dramatic. Saoirse closed her eyes and took a deep breath, seeking to calm herself. If it had just been a fluke, a misfire, then all of this emotion would be for nothing. And if her magic really was reconnecting, then being excited and crazed with no sense of concentration would do absolutely no good. So, as calmly as she could muster, Saoirse focused on an easy spell, a summoning spell. Then there would be physical proof, something she could hold onto, and show the Healers. Pointing to the pot of hydrangea in the corner of the room, Saoirse gave a quick, confident flick and held her breath.
The shriek that elicited from her lips no doubt broke through the wall sound barriers within the ward. Saoirse jumped up to catch the pot, clutching to it tightly as her feet danced in excitement. It was back! She had
done it, it wasn’t---
permanent but just a temporary block. She could do magic again, she could
fly, the life as she had known it for the last eight years had not come to an end----!
“Did you see?!” she asked excitedly, holding out the pot for Drystan to see. Saoirse pulled it back close to her chest again, not yet ready to let go of it. The other wands jostled at her feet on the bed, but she didn’t
care because now she could finally leave the hospital and move
on with her life from this strange chapter.
