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Posted: Apr 3 2017, 08:26 PM
The door opened and a rather lanky, strawberry-haired wizard poked his head into the hospital. He looked around, a slight shiver traveling up from the base of his spine. He had always ben quite susceptible to the cold droughts rain brought, but from the fact that he was soaked head to toe was not helping the situation at all. The young wizard gripped the wicker basket and his wand dutifully in his slightly trembling hands as he entered the long hall of the sick.
Marley Qander had always loved to watch Quidditch but had found out rather early in his studies at Hogwarts that he was never going to be any good. He did however, tend to visit any of the injured players after the match, even it was just for a moment to give them a basket of cheese to make them feel better. It was his quirky little way of thanking them for the performance.
His waterlogged shoes shlupped on the hard stone floors as he scanned the bed for the one Gryffindor that had fallen from her broom earlier that day. It was the single most exciting game he had watched all year, and hoped she had a good taste in dairy products.@Blyssenor Wright
"In order to succeed, we must first believe that we can".
|♥ Blyssenor Wright||
Posted: Apr 17 2017, 03:58 PM
Her shoulder ached. Blyssenor Wright wasn't entirely sure what she'd done to deserve the predicament that she was in now, but she'd take it back. She'd take it all back. Her healing wasn't working and here she was, laying in bed, when she could be out celebrating the Nundu victory. It was beyond disappointing and she couldn't help but sulk as she settled against the plush mattress of the hospital bed.
A rather sharp jab of pain erupted with her movement and she scowled, biting her lower lip. Damn it all. She was tired of this. She wasn't used to this! Why weren't her healing powers working? It made no sense. A soft huff escaped escaped her lips and she shook her head. It was going to be one hell of a long night. But just then, the door opened and the lioness glanced in that direction, eyebrows raising as a stranger made his way down the aisle.
Blysse wasn't familiar with him, though she'd seen him a time or two before. What was he doing in here? She adjusted herself with some difficulty, doing her best not to jostle her shoulder, cerulean gaze on the eagle who approached. "Are you looking for someone?" She called out, her tone one of exhaustion. Perhaps she was more tired than she thought. Surely he wasn't here to see her. The temptation to hide under her blanket was then suddenly strong, but she resisted, waiting for the eagle's answer.
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