м c h α l (conways) wrote in valesco,
@ 2013-08-30 13:15:00

Entry tags:

ARISTA SYKES
Michal sank deep into his seat, his arms pulled tightly across his chest. He did not want to be here, as he did not think he needed 'rehabilitation exercises' for his brain, so he most certainly did not want to sign in. He swatted the tapping quill away from his head, and slumped further in his chair. The only reason why he even continued to be here was because when Seth had dropped him off at this clinic like an untrustworthy child, he had gone out of his way to loudly state he would randomly return to check up on Michal's presence, or lack there of. And if he wasn't here for his full hour appointment? Straight to your room when he get home! And he could forget about dessert after dinner as well!

While Michal flirted with many appropriate responses to his increasingly former best friend, he went with the surliest of gestures that came to mind... which was deemed so a few moments later when the old witch behind them immediately knocked Michal in the back of the head with her cauldron, screeching "DECORUM!" Doubling over in pain as stars filled his eyes, he luckily was too disoriented to hear Seth cough out a laugh while he helped Michal to the nearest seat.

That had been twenty minutes ago, and while his head had stopped hurting and Seth had finally departed, Michal couldn't quite say that old lady's strike had removed any unruly in him. Now he just felt more justified in never moving from this seat, because if he wasn't allowed to leave without enduring endless harassment from Seth, then he would revolt in the smarmiest way he knew how; by not signing in and meeting his stupid Healer, and most certainly not learning about all the potions, 'exercises', treatment 'plans', etc. etc. he would be enduring for the next how many months of his recoup time.

Just as Michal began to contemplate if it would be better to be sleeping when Seth returned, a familiar face made him perk up in his seat a little. What was Arista Skyes doing here? His arms across his chest loosened as he watched the witch breeze through the room with her head held high. He hadn't heard news of her sustaining an injury (though he supposed he had had a couple dodgy days...), so with his curiosity peaked, Michal continued to watch her go about her business until she eventually perched on a seat a couple down from his own. He looked around to see if anyone else thought this occurrence to be as strange as he thought (not another soul present it seemed), he waited before tentatively addressing her.

"Hello," he grunted.

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bratemius
2013-09-04 04:10 am UTC (link)

Arista supposed an injury that caused a player to miss a season and a half and left the player with lingering pain and panic attacks could be classified as serious. But she nevertheless found it ridiculous that someone as wealthy as herself, that Arista Withers-Sykes, heir to the Sykes fortune, face of the Comet Trading Company, and general media darling, could not attain in-home physiotherapy.

After her initial accident, Arista completed her rehabilitation with minimal fuss, but a year and a half of playing had made her cocky once more. She was still a perfect pupil when it came to her stretches, etc, which she was perfectly capable of doing at home, but after a nasty, secret tumble off her broom during practise had her clutching a pack of ice to her back feverishly in the night, she wisely sought out professional help. With all the madness of the Pride of Portree shuffling around, and Miles Lufkin having the gall to leave (nevermind that he claimed it wasn't his choice, it wouldn't have happened had he simply kept his robes tied), the last thing Arista needed was an old injury further putting off her game.

When she was openly addressed, however, her eyes widened. Someone was talking to her here? Though this was an exclusive, expensive clinic, Arista still went to great pains to discourage socialising with the commoners. And furthermore, she actually recognised the face of the addresser?

Stunned, she blinked. Upon opening her eyes, Michal Conway Lynch was still present and staring at her rather grimly himself.

"What are you doing here?" she asked abruptly, in lieu of a polite greeting.

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conways
2013-09-08 01:54 am UTC (link)

"My head is in danger of breaking." Michal grumbled almost immediately, despite his interest seemingly, and suddenly, elsewhere (counting the invisible dust particles on his own chest). But no; however his chin might be tucked down, his gaze still pressed to watch the young witch out of the corner of his eye. Her presence here was intriguing, as it usually did when their paths crossed by happenstance to create these rare exchanges.

"Apparently," he added, shrugging his shoulders up toward his neck vaguely. Michal waved his hand idly at himself. "Neck, or whatever."

Was it obvious that he still didn't quite understand what was so wrong with him that everyone had spun themselves into a tizzy over? He felt... well, he felt unlike himself and like shit, but that could be explained by a lot of other recent events occurring in his life.

Michal tucked his hand back under his arm, and sat feeling moody for a few seconds. He was very curious as to what she was doing here, but felt that Arista Sykes would not take kindly to a question so open as 'So what's wrong with you?' It was just a feeling. He supposed there didn't have to be anything wrong with her at all, there could be many reasons why she was here...

"I don't think so, but everyone insists..." he trailed off at first, until thinking of a way to as discreetly as possible get some form of answer from her. "So I'm sitting here until my time is over." Michal added in, coyly, a few beats later, "Are you doing the same?"

His brow picked up slightly as he talked, and he found himself leaning toward her to speak freely.

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bratemius
2013-09-28 10:59 pm UTC (link)

Her lips unpursed as she listened, suddenly recalling that yes, she had heard about his accident, a rather nasty one. At the hands of Howell Williams, no less, as if that news was shocking. The burly Chaser was horrifically untalented, and the sheer ignorance of everyone to this fact baffled her. She didn't believe he did it on purpose, as other people did, since such an action would indicate a level of skill which he did not possess, but she wondered what else people expected to happen when a buffoon was such an integral part of their team.

But Michal Conway Lynch's question made her uncomfortable, and she averted her gaze slowly. Her accident was not a secret, though years had since passed. Arista didn't like to call attention to it, however, or the fact that she still suffered some pain and discomfort, especially to rivals. The Pride of Portree were struggling enough this season without revealing additional weaknesses to the rest of the league.

"Something like that," she replied instead, choosing not to reveal that she had finished an hour of vigorous stretching and that after this short break, she would resume with chiropractic adjustments. Her head tilted as she studied him, taking in the surly set of his brows and the defiant line of his shoulders.

"You don't want to get better?"

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conways
2013-10-16 07:58 pm UTC (link)

He frowned slightly, and pulled his neck back toward his chest. Well he wouldn't say he didn't want to get better, so much as it was a refusal of accepting that something was wrong with him to begin with. He felt... fine, relatively speaking, and didn't quite understand the logic of if he felt fine on the ground, then why wouldn't he feel fine in the air? And if he felt fine in the air, then why was everyone tip-toeing around him like his brain was about to explode like a second year's potion at any moment?

The only appropriate response was to stubbornly refuse any advancement upon his 'recovery journey.'

"I'm fine," he snipped suddenly, as if it was the most obvious of answers. Michal looked down at his crossed arms, and picked lightly at the fabric of his sleeve. A surprising sigh escaped him, and his next words came out in a gentle manner. "I just want everything to get back to normal already," Michal murmured, letting a rare moment of emotion get the best of him.

But as soon as the moment had come, it passed, and Michal shook his head as if warding off any linger thoughts of doubt.. "I mean," he began again, sitting back up straight and looking at Arista. "I don't like being told what to do, so."

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