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Post by james on Jan 21, 2009 0:38:19 GMT 1
It seemed oddly cold and indifferent when Ash told Starke what had happened to him. Starke did not know the fellow well enough to understand the psychology behind his presentation of the situation, but he understood it could be no longer than a year since the occurrence that landed him in the wheelchair. It would probably take years to recover from that… at least Starke did not have other issues to deal with. Only the uncontrollable magic seemed to be haunting him.
Still, Starke was slightly disheartened. He felt weak and empty, as he leaned against the door of the bathroom. He could feel the current of the flooding within the room pushing against the door. “But you…” He started. He was not sure if even his slight affinity with Ash’s problems justified his asking personal questions. “You’ve experienced progress, haven’t you?” He asked hopefully.
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Post by ashley on Jan 23, 2009 16:44:35 GMT 1
Ashley was wondering, to some extent at least, why Starke was asking him these things. He didn’t like to assume that he knew the reasoning behind the others questions, but his mind was working on the little information he had, trying to piece together a solid reason for being so personal. Not that he minded answering, he figured that with the slim chance there was of Starke feeling better, he’d answer any question, no matter how personal.
”I have. I’ve been working really hard for it though, it’s slow, but yeah, I’ve been doing better. When I woke up...at first I couldn’t do any spells. Everything would go wrong and blow up somehow.” It was probably why it had been a good thing he’d been in a Muggle hospital where his wand wasn’t available and his magic not assumed. If he’d been in St. Mungo’s, he would have been even more frustrated and lost.
Shrugging his shoulder, Ash gave the Gryffindor a smile. ”I’m not saying it’s easy, but there’s progress. I think that’s the main thing, no matter how slow it goes. As long as there’s progress, then there’s something to work for.” And he was lucky. He had people to help him, people who knew of his condition and still offered to be his partner in class.
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Post by james on Jan 26, 2009 6:03:27 GMT 1
The dark-haired young man was not enthralled to hear his fair counterpart’s progress was going so slow, especially when the side effects seemed so similar to his own. Sure, there had been no lasting physical damage to him, apart from the large hunk of flesh that had been ripped from his forearm, but things blowing up… well he had just walked out of that sort of situation, hadn’t he? Launched out, more like.
“Hmm.” Starke sounded, reflectively and turned his grey eyes to the ground. He was starting to feel a little faint with frustration. It seemed strange to him that Ash’s information should affect him so heavily. He was not sure what other sort of vague question he might ask; something unrevealing enough that he should not befall any questions himself.
But his mind was not serving him properly, and all he could concentrate on was his growing light-headedness. He stepped forward, with the intent to say something, but he lost his footing in his little puddle. He foolishly made a reach out for Ash’s wheelchair, fortunately in vain. His fingertips grazed the wheel as he collapsed onto the floor. His nose collided against the stone and instantly sprang with blood, and for a few moments, all seemed to go dark.
[yeah, so I decided I wanted to have him faint, so those 'few moments' could be longer if you want... I'll run with whatever.]
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Post by ashley on Jan 29, 2009 15:23:55 GMT 1
Ashley watched him for a while, realizing that whatever was going through the young mans brain, it weren’t happy thoughts. He seemed genuinely bothered and the Hufflepuff knew enough to understand that he wasn’t just being sympathetic. Something was wrong and though he could definitely take a stab at exactly what was going through the others brain, he didn’t feel like jumping to the -perhaps- wrong conclusion.
As he opened his mouth to speak, Starke suddenly fell over, reaching out for the wheelchair before his body hit the ground with a dull thud. He could hear the small crack of bone interacting with stone, could smell the faint iron that tainted the floor red. For a second or so, Ashley just sat there, mouth open, staring. He was mostly wondering what on earth he could do to rectify this situation, though his brain was definitely hammering on the ‘why’ as well. He could hardly believe that something he’d said had had such an influence after all.
”Starke?” His hand went to the handle of the chair, putting it on brake as he carefully reached out towards the boy at his feet. The last thing they would need was for him to fall out of his chair and become completely useless after all. Something might be wrong, and the older Gryffindor possibly needed his help. ”Shit dude...” What the hell was he supposed to do?! Reaching out towards him carefully, Ashley gently shook the boys shoulder.
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Post by james on Jan 31, 2009 9:53:53 GMT 1
The next instance, Starke realized he was on the cold, hard, stone ground. He remembered feeling increasingly faint, but the actual fall was all a blur to him now. All he knew now was that a sharp pain was traveling up the bridge of his nose, and his nostrils were throbbing. His upper lip felt wet, and his head was starting to hurt. While he did not necessarily like being on the ground, he really didn't have the energy to get up either.
It was partly to do with the fact that he was highly embarrassed. He could feel the cripple boy's hand at his shoulder, and he feigned unconsciousness for a moment longer. Finally, he opened his grey eyes. The first thing that came into focus was where the wheels of Ash's chair met with the ground. It look so tangible, and without thinking, he reached out a hand and touched the hard rubber of the wheel. It felt rough, and Starke looked up to Ash to confirm that he was okay. Or at least... that he was awake.
Pushing off the ground, he sat up. It was too soon. His head was swimming, and he let out a long breath to try and stop the increasing head ache. "Sorry about that." Starke muttered faintly; he was absolutely mortified by what had just happened, but he didn't have it in him to walk away and avoid further embarrassment.
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