Grace Jordan (acejordan) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-03 13:55:00 |
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Grace was normally early to practice. Fundamentally it had been about honouring the responsibility coach had placed in her when he made her assistant captain, about being accountable when they all knew their Captain wouldn't stroll in until 10 to, about her work ethic in general. But as things grew worse and continuing to play a game during a war left knots, it had been about clinging to old comforting things. Grace may not have much to contribute off the pitch, but here she was certain. Very certain that Angelus bloody Rosier had no business being anywhere near the Magpies’ pitch, in full gear no less, broom in hand. The memory of that day Rosier and his mates played a friendly game of pickup, burned hot in her brain. Grace stopped short in the hallway. “What are you doing here?” Rosier turned on his heel and gave a cheery wave to Grace, whose voice he’d recognized instantly. “Heya, Grace. How’s the morning — you’re here a bit early for your practice time.” “I usually am, to go over plays. Why are you here,” she repeated slowly, “at all.” “That’s good of you,” Angelus replied with a shrug. “I’m here to fly around my favourite team’s pitch a bit.” He looked down at this gear-clad body and then back up at Grace. “I would have thought that was obvious.” “Oh,” she said, finding it difficult to keep her tone level. “I didn’t know you’d joined the team.” “I could totally do that if you’d like. Are you suggesting you need a new seeker?” “I’m not,” Grace said plainly, stepping closer until they were in front of one another. “But I know that talent or skill doesn’t matter much anymore with the new Head of Games and Sports.” Angelus snorted in amusement. “Aaaand has Malfoy meddled in player selection? No, so I’m not sure where that paranoia is coming from.” He clasped his hands together, the dragonhide of his player’s gloves slapping noisily. He was unintimidated by Grace’s approach. “Or is this another sort of ‘everything is evil!!’ thing, because I get that a lot from Barnaby.” “That’s probably because Baz has been threatened by your friends a number of times,” she said, nails biting into her palm. “But you seem to be benefitting from that friendship,” she stared pointedly at his entire kit before her eyes flicked up to his. “So I can see why you’d dismiss it for paranoia. Since Malfoy hasn’t added you to the roster, and you’re not Magpies staff, I’m not sure why you think you can use our pitch.” “That’s probably because of the things he insists on talking shit to them instead of keeping his mouth shut,” Angelus offered straight back. He wouldn’t deny Barnaby was a target, but he also was bringing that on himself more often than not. Feuding with the Malfoys was pointless, not to mention dangerous. “Everyone loves my company, Gracie, even Death Eaters.” He flashed a grin that was sure to infuriate her more before gesturing to his kit. “Because I’ve permission to, of course.” He let that sink in. “If you want to fly with me you can, I’ll allow it.” “Allow it?” It was said in disbelief, but the fury that came along with it nearly choked her. Rosier had always been infuriating, and normally Grace was able to take it with a roll of her eyes and a level head. But she had been losing whatever quality for calm that she had been known for, for months. Her chest felt tight with the hopelessness of everything. The fear. And Rosier just… Her bag dropped from her shoulder onto the floor. “How can you — “ she swallowed hard. “Why are you like this? Why is it all such a game to you?” Angelus fixed his former yearmate with a glare at her accusation. “It’s not a game, Gracie. I just don’t get worked up over it and yell into the abyss.” “Because you’re safe. You’re basically one of them as far as they’re concerned aren’t you? The rest of us are terrified. Some of us don’t have the luxury of not getting ‘worked up,’ people should be getting worked up.” There was a faint tremor in her fingers, whether from anxiety or anger, she didn’t know. “They’re Death Eaters.” “Give the lady a prize,” Angelus retorted heatedly. “They’re Death Eaters.” He was tired of this. Tired of whenever he tried to do something nice that everyone got mad, it was damned if you do, damned if you don’t. “I’m a Rosier, of course I’m safe. The rest of you could be too if you simply shut your mouths and didn’t have to make an issue of everything like me flying around the pitch.” “Shut our mouths and go on like it’s business as usual? We’re hostages. You’re benefiting from this,” she spat, sounding worn thin and close to a breaking point. “You’re flying around this pitch because the Death Eaters who made my teammates into criminals, invited you. You don’t deserve to set one foot on that grass.” “It’s really quite simple. Either you do that or you yell at Death Eaters and they do something to you. I know you’ve figured that out.” He looked over his shoulder towards the green lawn of the pitch, and then back to Grace. “Well, I’m going to, but mostly I’ll be flying above it if it makes you feel better.” He just didn’t care. There was a second of regret when Grace lifted her hands and shoved hard; violence off the pitch was abhorrent, Grace was always the one to reel her teammates back. But she felt raw and desperate and there was some satisfaction in lashing out. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” She shoved him again. While the move to violence wasn’t entirely unexpected, the force of Grace’s push caught Rosier slightly off guard and he stumbled backwards — teetering on the brink of toppling over — before he caught himself. “Fuck off, that’s not true,” he protested heatedly, his own anger now rising, just before Grace’s second shove pushed him back and he hit the wall. “I guess you look out for your own,” she agreed scathingly and she was mortified enough to realize she had the front of his kit grasped in her fist, her eyes burning and wet. “The things you — you’re so irresponsible. So insensitive.” Even as Grace let go of his robes Angelus jabbed a finger accusingly towards her collarbone. “Yeah, I do, which is a lot more than I can say about the rest of you fucks. Do you even stop and think for one second before opening your mouths or do you just like to shout and wank off into the moral highground abyss you try desperately to obtain so you feel better?” Even Grace’s teary eyes, which should have called him off knowing he’d pushed things too far, didn’t stop him this time. “Do you not actually give two fucks about your family and friends? Because all I see is people screaming for the hell of it and getting the reaction that’s obvious.” Grace punched him. She didn’t even flinch when the skin of her knuckle split. “Fuck you,” came out shaky and low. “Of course that’s all you see.” The fist caught him in the mouth and sent Rosier’s jaw snapping to the side with a grunt. Grace had a damn good punch. Head ringing, and the taste of blood in his aching jaw, Rosier glared at the woman and snorted despite the pain shooting through his mouth and skull. “Guess you do believe violence solves difference of opinion, eh Jordan?” Grace shook her head, disgusted with him and disgusted with herself, with how easily she played into this all, losing her composure when she knew, this wasn’t even really about him. She hated herself. “Guess so,” she said hollowly, anger leaving her on a tide of shame. Her hand was throbbing, pain she felt up to her already bad shoulder. “Guess I’m just as bad as them, huh?” She reached into the abandoned duffle at her feet and pulled a poultice out, one of Nora’s designed to soothe the aches and bruises when a spell wouldn’t do. It would stop the swelling in his face. “Direct contact is best,” she shoved it into his chest, the only apology he’d get right now. Tiredly, bitterly, she backed away, dashing away any tears with a blink of her eye. “Enjoy your fly,” she said, resigned, and turned away and down the tunnel to the change rooms. Clutching the poultice in a hand, Rosier watched Grace slink away, defeated. There was a split second when he debated the merits of calling out to her, to say this escalated beyond what it should have. But by the time he’d come to a decision Grace Jordan was already gone. |