02/01/2010 Characters: Romilda Vane & Oliver Wood (Open) Setting: Monday evening. Diagon Alley. Illusions dance club. Summary: Romilda's out on the town with cousin, Rose Zeller. While Rose is apparently stealing all the blokes Romilda wants she's decided to step outside for some fresh air. Unfortunately...it's a bit slippery out.
Romilda Vane wasn't in the best of moods. She'd been in an awkward state since that dinner with Gregory Goyle last week. The fact that she was in such an awkward state only encouraged her to be frustrated because someone like Gregory Troll Stomping Goyle had managed to put her there. Then there was the whole situation where she felt like she had no one to whine to about it for fear of being completely laughed at...didn't help matters in the least.
As a solution she'd decided she'd put it all behind her. With the first of the month she had 13 days to get out of her funk and find someone to spend Valentines Day with. Yes. Alright. So it was a fickle holiday with fickle customs.... but she wanted a damned good one this year! At least someone to be familiar enough with to get flowers and a snog from. Preferably someone willing to take the reigns for a bit when it came to sweeping her off her feet. Was that really too much to ask? She obviously wasn't going to leave it up to Greg to go out of his way to woe her. All of his attempts had been in some way her idea these last few months and quite frankly...she was over it. Moving on!
As a result she'd made her way to, Illusions, a popular wizarding dance club with her cousin Rose Zeller. It'd been a while since she and the younger girl had gone out so this evening was a perfect opportunity to get two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, it wasn't working out the way Romilda had imagined it. After a few drinks and a few dances Romilda had failed to get the attention she'd hope for. Rose, on the other hand, was apparently on fire this evening. That or Romilda's sour attitude was setting off a psychological stench that wasn't exactly working in her favour.
Faking a headache Romilda had announced that she would be stepping outside for a moment. With a fidgety hand the twenty-something exited the night club as she fastened her cloak around her neck. She had half a mind to leave her dearobviously more attractive cousin behind while she found an alternative means of getting a bloke. Or maybe she'd just go home. Moving out of the way of other club goers, the former-Gryffindor made a temporary decision to walk down the street to smoke a fag. That's what she needed - nicotine to reboot her mood. If it didn't work...she could fall back on her headache lie and get out of it no problem.
As she rummaged through her small handbag for her silver cigarette case Romilda's heel seemed to think it appropriate to snap at the base. This, with the pull of gravity and the fact that the street was laced in ice brought the petite young woman through the air with the most awkward sort of ease. As her feet leveled themselves with her chest and her arms flailed dispensing her pocket book along the road Romilda let out a high pitched unsuspecting scream as her body crashed into the ground.
Instant embarrassment swept over her and Romilda immediately hoped that she'd smack her head on the pavement and be rendered unconscious for the next few hour. Or perhaps no one saw. Or...maybe...if she laid there for a moment her red winters cloak would inherit the ability to go invisible and she could lay there until the coast was clear.
Alas, that wasn't the case. Someone was already at her side...touching her shoulder and saying something.