a . griffiths (soundedfury) wrote in valesco, @ 2016-09-05 17:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | arista sykes, arthur griffiths |
ARISTA!
Artie examined his purpling left eye in the curve of his spoon, his reflection distorted but providing enough for him to be conscious of his need for an excuse. It would a little bit more than rude to wear his sunglasses indoors which would've been his best route, so...stray bludger it would be, then. Stray bludger from practice, his healer wasn't on so he didn't want someone else giving him anything, he'll put some ice on it when he got home...
...that sounded much easier to swallow than an altercation with his father that had escalated quickly.
Father was a loose term as Arthur Griffiths hadn't shown him much paternal affection since he was about five-years-old. Artie now assumed that was about the time the real origins of his birth had come to life, which...wasn't an excuse, but it made things make sense. In a weird, twisted way, of course. He'd done his best to avoid his father these past few months, but it proved difficult when his sister Wilda was involved. She'd fallen ill after a nasty crash in last week's match, so while they were never on the best terms, Artie had paid her a visit.
He sighed. Artie knew that he'd been sharp with his father, probably too much for the circumstances surrounding his sister. It had...been terribly easy to let the short, muttered remarks from his father ignite an anger and it was Artie who had come out worse for wear.
His thoughts were immediately interrupted at the sound of jingling bells and the sight of Arista coming through the door of the bakery. Artie stood and smiled, glad to have a distraction, especially in the form of his girlfriend. "I'm early; I guess the prospect of birthday party dessert tasting was too great."