angelina johnson is just a little bitter. (notangelic) wrote in may02, @ 2010-12-09 00:46:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !!incomplete, !december 1998, angelina johnson, katie bell |
Characters: Angelina & Katie
Setting: 8 December 1998 in their flat.
Ratings: EH. Depends.
Summary: Because Angelina's been having the greatest day ever, you know.
Angelina’s day had been pretty unproductive. Mainly because it hadn’t involved moving that much. She’d woken up that morning, fully intending on going to practise until she’d had a moment of feeling like she’d be sick and had all but raced for the toilet (only for it to be a false alarm), and from then she’d found that the odd feeling in her stomach that made her want to heave was not going to be conducive to sitting on a broom half the day and decided that the only choice she really had was to not go. Which had been the last thing she wanted to do, especially when that had been the same reason she hadn't gone last Friday and both Monday and Tuesday before that. She was trying to get a starting position by next season and this developing habit of missing practises and getting sick was not the way to get there at all. She definitely had to make sure she went tomorrow no matter what. As it was, she hadn’t moved very much throughout the day -- she’d gone back to bed and spent the rest of the morning under her sheets, only getting up at about noon to find something to eat for lunch (and that had been a story in itself because even the stuff she thought would go down pretty well had made her feel nauseous just by smell alone). In the end, she ate the take away from the night before and had flopped onto the couch to listen to the wireless. She wasn’t the lay about and do nothing sort, but there was a certain amount of listlessness that went hand-in-hand with the nausea she was currently experiencing. A niggling feeling in the back of her mind that maybe she was forgetting something rose, especially since getting sick wasn’t something that happened to her often if at all until recently, but she didn’t have much time to think on it in depth as her queasiness reemerged, telling her that she needed to get to the toilet as soon as possible and forcing her to hurry off the sofa and down the hall. It wasn't a false alarm this time, unfortunately, and if it was possible, she felt just the tiniest bit worse than she had before as she laid out on the floor beside the toilet, closing her eyes and bringing an arm up to rest on her forehead. She'd left the door wide open in her haste, but she didn't care much about getting up at the moment. Especially when she wasn't quite sure if she was done or not and she'd learned very well last week that it would be a mistake to assume as much. She was sure that the feeling would pass, though. She just had to be patient and stay right where she was until it did. |