dh_oliver (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dh_oliver) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} darkesthour_rpg,@ 2008-04-09 00:43:00 |
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| Entry tags: | april 2008, complete, npc, oliver wood |
RP: Get into game!
Date: April 8, 2008 - morning practice
Characters: Oliver Wood, Kelly Sellmont (NPC), Puddlemere United people
Location: Puddlemere United, Puddlemere, England
Private/Public?: Private
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, maybe.
Summary: Oliver's out of it.
Complete?: Complete
The night was one of the longest Oliver Wood could remember. He hadn't slept. Once he had gotten home from the interview, he had just sat on the couch, staring at the wall. He had been a complete jerk. Stupid. Insensitive. And as he stared at the tear-soaked photo of him and Cordelia Chase from the Yule Ball, he realized he had not been honest either.
He didn't know how long, if at all, he had sat there. Or if he had gone to bed. Or if he had eaten anything for dinner or breakfast. All he knew was that his alarm charms were going off, telling him it was time to head for morning practice.
Wood wasn't sure if the club's atmosphere seemed different or the same. He felt so ashamed that his whole team could've been replaced and he would've been oblivious to it all.
Quaffles came soaring through the air. Some he caught, but most he missed. He hadn't said a word during all of practice. Hadn't yelled. Hadn't cheered.
The next thing he knew he was being dragged through the air then into the locker room by Kelly Sellmont, his assistant captain.
"SNAP OUT OF IT!" She roared into his face. "GET IT TOGETHER, OLIVER!"
"I'm such an-," he couldn't finish his self-admonishment.
"SELFISH, UNGRATEFUL, PIGHEADED, SORRY EXCUSE FOR A WIZARD, ASSHOLE." Sellmont finished his sentence for him. "But I'm going to put this bluntly. Either get your arse back out there and practice like you mean it. Or bench yourself so we can start practicing with Anderson."
"Arse," Sellmont muttered repeatedly as she stormed back onto the field.
He didn't know how long, if at all, he had sat there. Or if he had gone to bed. Or if he had eaten anything for dinner or breakfast. All he knew was that his alarm charms were going off, telling him it was time to head for morning practice.
Wood wasn't sure if the club's atmosphere seemed different or the same. He felt so ashamed that his whole team could've been replaced and he would've been oblivious to it all.
Quaffles came soaring through the air. Some he caught, but most he missed. He hadn't said a word during all of practice. Hadn't yelled. Hadn't cheered.
The next thing he knew he was being dragged through the air then into the locker room by Kelly Sellmont, his assistant captain.
"SNAP OUT OF IT!" She roared into his face. "GET IT TOGETHER, OLIVER!"
"I'm such an-," he couldn't finish his self-admonishment.
"SELFISH, UNGRATEFUL, PIGHEADED, SORRY EXCUSE FOR A WIZARD, ASSHOLE." Sellmont finished his sentence for him. "But I'm going to put this bluntly. Either get your arse back out there and practice like you mean it. Or bench yourself so we can start practicing with Anderson."
"Arse," Sellmont muttered repeatedly as she stormed back onto the field.
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