|Vivian. (vivianthorpe) wrote in toujoursliberer,|
@ 2008-06-30 16:35:00
|Entry tags:||character_development, slater, vivian_thorpe|
Who: Vivian Thorpe.
Where: Slater's place.
Open to: Slater.
Vivian felt like death.
It was not a pleasant experience. Ever since the night Harry had thrown her out, she'd been shivery, achey, pallid, nauseaous... she'd caught a chill, and a bad one, too. And the last thing she needed was pneumonia or consumption. She was too young to die.
But she was also too sick to do much except lie in Slater's bed all day and huddle down. She knew it wouldn't be appreciated, she knew they were expecting her to be doing her share of work, but she'd collapse if he tried, she knew it. So she was waiting for the storm to break, for the moment she got bollocked for being lazy and taking liberties.
Until then, she'd enjoy the quiet and try and feel better. Not easy. With a cough, she groaned, pressing her face a little further into the pillow, hugging herself. God, she felt dog rough, and probably looked it, too.