nora is a harpie not a harpy. (notaharpy) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2010-02-21 16:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | gawain robards, nora alderton |
RP Log: Nora & Gawain
Who: Gawain Robards, Nora Alderton
When: Today around noon or so
Where: St Mungo's
What: Gawain gets to see Nora after twelve hours of waiting.
Rating: PG
Sunrise was so slow, so gradual, that he barely noticed it was happening at all. The night had seemed to last forever, had stretched cold and dark outside the hospital windows, had echoed his mood so absolutely, that Gawain hadn't registered the shift from black to grey, then from grey to the dim, dull light of morning. Every time a healer had passed he had tensed -- if that were even possible, given how rigid his body already was -- in anticipation of grim news. A part of him was waiting for them to turn towards Nora's parents, to begin speaking in a low, steady voice, to inform the girl's family that they had done all they could. It was, strangely enough, the waiting for this moment that had kept him composed up to this point. No use falling to pieces without a reason, he told himself. No use buckling under pressure. While Nora lived he still had cause to keep his wits about him, if only for her family's sake. At least he could be of use to somebody. But dawn broke and brought with it news of her condition. Stabilised. It would still be hours until he'd be able to see her, but they were hours he bore willingly, elbows on his knees in the waiting room, eyes trained on some indistinct point on the wall opposite. Anything to stave off thinking. At noon they called his name. Gawain rose, feeling his limbs creak with the motion, and barely sensed his feet touching the floor as he followed the long corridor that led to Nora's temporary (or not so temporary) room. As he edged past the doorway, all he could remember was the vague hope that he didn't smell too strongly of cigarette smoke. She was breathing, albeit shallowly, and that was a good sign. The not-so-good was just how pale she was. Though Nora had been given blood replenishing potions, they could only give so many at a time, lest she get ill. Dark circles under her eyes gave the appearance that she hadn't slept in days, though she'd been mostly unconscious for the better part of twelve hours. More harrowing, however, were the bandages that adorned her neck and wrists, and the large cloth bandage around her left leg (beneath the blanket). Rest, they'd told her parents. Nora needed rest for the better part of a week, and then she'd need help doing anything more exhausting than travelling to the bathroom. A shower would be right out, and definitely no Quidditch or exercise for quite some time. Not that Nora would have to worry about Quidditch; the rest of the season had been cancelled after the attack. The news hadn't carried to her in the hospital yet, but it would be cold comfort in light of the incident. Desdemona and Arkie Alderton paid their respects to Gawain at the door, Arkie shuffling his nervously relieved wife out into the hallway. The elder Alderton might have tipped a hat to Gawain had he been wearing one, but instead gave a polite head nod before disappearing. When the door closed, Nora's eyelids fluttered open slowly, eyes automatically seeking out the sound's direction. If she wasn't as weak as a kitten, she might have made a comment about how the tables were turned, seeing as she was the one propped up against a mass of pillows, wearing a god-awful backless robe. Her fingers, previously linked together at her lap, now flexed outward. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out. So this was what it was like to feel hollow. In that instant it felt to Gawain like everything inside him had evaporated, replaced by a biting cold and sudden, sinking, nameless sensation in the spot where his stomach ought to be. It wasn't until he swallowed -- quite automatically -- that he felt feeling return to him, reminding him of where he was, of who he was, and of who he was looking at. Jaw tightening, he left the doorway and edge into the room. He had braced herself against the cold of her hand, but all the same it was jarring to feel just how cool her skin was. How pale. Very gently, the Auror rested his hand over hers. It was difficult to know just what to say, or even have the confidence to know that should he attempt to speak, he'd be able to make a sound at all. Gawain, summoning up no small amount of courage, attempted a weak smile, even though the chill to her skin was making him feel sick. "I'm here," finally. Nora smiled slightly, but closed her eyes as if she couldn't keep them open and smile at the same time. As if the effort of handling both of those actions was a little too much. She wiggled her pointer until it could latch onto his fingers, as limp as it was. "I'm glad you're here." Laboured whispers, but they were heartfelt. "Did they... is everyone else...?" He was grateful, in a way, for her inability to both smile and look at him. Gawain preferred for the moment that she kept her eyes closed, if only because it would excuse him from having to maintain such rigid control of his features. There was too much relief in his body right now, too much nervous energy -- he was afraid in showed in the way his mouth seemed unable to smile without twitching, or his eyebrows knit a bit too tightly. "Everything's all right now," he maintained evenly, even though he was lying through his teeth. "Don't strain yourself, you need to rest. I'm not going anywhere." "You're lying," she answered. Nora swallowed, then drew in a deep breath. Her head felt as though it was metres about the rest of her body, floating on a string. Opening her eyes was difficult for long periods of time; she often became dizzy. To turn her head, she rolled her neck on the pillow. "What happened?" She understood that Melinda had somehow managed to get her off her broom, not a difficult task really. They were on the same team; Nora hadn't been expecting it. There had been Death Eaters, and the sudden memory of vampires caused her hand to jerk beneath Gawain's. "Vampires. But why?" His heart skipped a beat as Nora's hand twitched. It sank when she posed her question. Why. If he stalled in replying it wasn't because he didn't know the answer -- it was because he did, and that was what kept him from explaining word one of it to Nora (that and the fact that she looked so white and so weak, and anything he might say that could cause her any sort of anguish was suddenly an especially vile prospect). Instead the Auror looked away, distracted himself by locating a chair, and tugged it close to her beside before taking a seat. Both hands enveloped hers now, as if he could will his own warmth beneath her skin. "There was an attack on the match," he began, because he was unable to lie, though still able to omit the whole truth -- the second game attacked would not yet be mentioned. "You were hurt, but you're going to be all right. You need to focus on that... we can focus on everything else later." With her eyes half closed - it seemed easier to manage that way - Nora quietly watched him for several moments as he pulled up the chair, as he talked. She wasn't crying, nor was she about to, but something about not feeling particularly well - and not understanding how she wasn't feeling well - made her eyes water a little. "My mouth tastes like I've got a cotton ball shoved down my throat." Nora rubbed her lips together, realised they were chapped. Swallowing was difficult. And thank Christ she wasn't out and out crying. Gawain was feeling on shaky enough ground as it was -- seeing her in any more pain might very well have done him in completely. "Would you like some water?" There was already a pitcher and glass by her bed, and it was this that he began reaching for without even requiring a response. It would give him something to do after all, some way to begin feeling useful again. For just one second, Nora thought to ask him how she looked - just as he'd done when he was in the hospital - but she didn't have the heart to. She didn't really want to know what she looked like. She imagined it was pretty bad, and if he did tell her the truth, she probably would burst into tears. It took every ounce of strength she had to push herself up, to hold her head up to drink the glass of water. Holding the glass was right out, so she simply held a finger below the bottom to indicate that she wanted more. She nearly drank the whole thing before flopping back against the pillow. "Water has never tasted so good." Gawain's mouth pulled to the side in an expression that might have otherwise been a smile, but under current circumstances was still too strained, and far too grim. The glass was taken back gingerly, and once more set to the side of her bed. "I don't want to keep you up," he managed within a moment or two, even though it was a bald-faced lie. He wanted to keep her speaking, keep her looking at him, on the off chance that it might be the last time she did so. "But I want you to know I'm here. And I'm not leaving." "I'm not tired..." Nora lied. It wasn't that she wanted to doubt Gawain's word, but he'd have to go back to work. He couldn't simply take off because she'd gotten hurt. But the sentiment is what tipped the scales, and suddenly, her watery eyes were leaking. Nora exhaled a shaky breath, and found that she could barely lift her arms. She couldn't even cover her face to hide the fact that she was crying. The best that she could do was tilt her head a little and sink into the pillows. It was just as well that she was struggling to sink from view, because, for Gawain's part, he didn't want her to have to witness him at that moment either. He felt brittle, impossibly on edge, as if it would take only the slightest pressure to make him crack -- and he could feel the fractures begin as soon as Nora began to cry. Setting his jaw as if to guard against any tears of his own, the Auror held her hand all the more tightly. "It's all right," he murmured, however ineffectually, as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. He would have drawn his handkerchief from his pocket and tended to her with it accordingly, but he'd already lent the pocket square to a distraught Emmeline Vance earlier that night, and hadn't had the heart to ask for it back. "I'm sorry," she answered in a watery voice. Nora felt as brittle physically as she could possibly get; it made her feel like the weaker sex. She'd never been in the hospital before, at least not for an extended stay. Sure, there had been broken bones, muscle pulls, and the occasional collision with the ground - but the team medi-witch could handle that easily. "I don't want you to go." Nora didn't want to admit it, but flashes of sharp canines lingered in the back of her mind. "Can - can you stay the night? Please? That's all I'll ask." Settling into his seat once more, Gawain still managed to lean forward, as if protecting Nora was an immediate concern. There was no way to apologise for his not being there at the match (and he almost had been, if he hadn't let work interfere with his personal life -- again) but at least he could be here now, and that might, in some small way, make up for it. "Of course," he answered softly, squeezing her hand as if to impress his presence on her. "I'll be here. I'm not leaving. Not for the world, Nora." |