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Post by victoire weasley on Apr 30, 2009 21:48:25 GMT -6
 It's the heart afraid of breaking[/i][/color] THAT NEVER LEARNS TO DANCE[/b][/color] It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance [/i][/color][/font] -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] [/i] she thought, becoming slightly impatient. This was a quality earned straight from her mother. For the most part, Victoire could be relaxed, like her father but sometimes she just wanted to get what she needed and get the hell out. Today did not seem like it would be one of those days.[/ul][/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by anthony baird on May 1, 2009 18:14:41 GMT -6
-- & --
Hesitantly standing outside the entrance to St. Mungo's Hospital, looking at the dilapidated muggle storefront, Anthony Baird was still in that strange limbo between the decision to go inside and to simply turn around and go back where he came from. He knew that he really should visit his mother before he left for his new post, there would be little opportunity to leave once he got to the school. But there was still this reluctance within him that kept him hovering over the threshold of the hospital entrance. It wasn't that he didn't care for his mother, he loved her in only the way a child who did not find there mother until after their childhood could. Meaning, Xandra was more precious to him in the ten years he had known her than his father and the rest of the Grantlands ever could be. It was just... hard. Growing up the way he had, it hadn't been easy for him to let anybody in. With one of the few people he cared deeply about sick, it was difficult to think of being without her, of losing her. It hurt almost like a wound, except he didn't know if it was one that could be healed.
Butting out the last of his cigarette and crushing it further beneath the toe of his boot, Tony took one last look at the building before stepping through the door. The inside of the hospital, of course, was very much different from the outside -- which was to keep the muggles unaware of the magical establishment. Though only having visited his mother a handful of times in the past months, he knew exactly how to get to her room and headed straight for the lifts. It was on the second floor; the floor for contagious magical illnesses and viruses. If only they knew exactly what Xandra Baird had. Though a muggle, Tony had insisted upon her going to St. Mungo's when she first fell ill. After all, he hadn't been exposed to the muggle world in any fashion until he was sixteen years old and he was still finding it difficult to trust them. Wizards could do just as good a job diagnosing and treating people, he'd said, better even because of their magic. Except that whatever she was sick with had never been seen before in either muggle hospitals or wizard ones.
So, she'd been given a room in the hospital and given all sorts of treatments and tests. Nothing seemed to work and there were no leads as to what it could be. Xandra appeared to only be getting worse -- it was like she was simply dying, for no reason. The inexplicable quality of it terrified Tony, who'd spent his life in finding an explanation for everything, finding a reason behind every action. He ran a shaking hand through his close cropped hair and let out a heavy breath. He really needed to pull it together before he saw her. It would only upset Xandra if she saw him worried in any fashion. She would insist that he not visit her -- which, even with his own difficulty, he refused to do. She would have no one, if he left her alone. Which was part of the reason he was so reluctant to visit today. He'd only mentioned that he might be getting a new post -- not that he'd already gotten it and would be leaving soon. He was very tempted to step down to stay with her in London, but he knew it would only make her feel worse about the situation.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened to a sunny corridor that appeared to be almost abandoned. His brows lifted as he glanced around, nevertheless, stepping out onto the linoleum flooring. He stuck his hands loosely in the front pockets of his jeans and started down towards his mother's room -- considerately situated on the opposite end of the building from the lifts. As he rounded a corner, he began passing the nurse's station, lithely side-stepping a petite blond woman as he did so. Passing her, he thought that her figure looked very much familiar. Stopping suddenly, he turned to face her -- a grin pulling at his face. Victoire Weasley, his mind put name to face as he looked at her. It was at that moment that he realized how long it had been since he'd seen or heard from her. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he quietly leaned up against the station's top next to her.
"And what is such pretty young thing like yourself doing in a hospital?" He asked slyly, trying to mute the ever broadening grin.
ooc: I'm too lazy to do a pretty header xD |
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Post by victoire weasley on May 1, 2009 23:03:25 GMT -6
It's the heart afraid of breaking [/i][/color] THAT NEVER LEARNS TO DANCE[/b][/color] It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance [/i][/color][/font] -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] [/b] She put a slight bit of emphasis on his last name, making sure he caught sound of the 'mister' part. It was her opening icebreaker into flirting with the man. A tone of faux formality always told the other party when one was up for a bit of play. Besides, it wasn't as if Victoire had many places to go today. She could spare a few minutes for a friendly chat with a colleague. "And what about you, sir? You seem in perfectly fine condition to be on this particular floor."[/ul][/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by anthony baird on May 3, 2009 18:05:35 GMT -6
-- & --
Tony drew his lower lip between his teeth and raised his eyebrows at her as she answered. "Sounds exceedingly boring," he replied before moving back into a more relaxed position. As he did so, his dark blue eyes roved over her -- from the top of her head of frothy blond curls to her delightfully small feet. Instantly, memories of their past together flashed through his mind turning his happy grin into a cheeky smile. No doubt she was remembering as well, if he knew her. And Tony most certainly thought he did. They were friends, despite their past together. Victoire was one of the few women he was simultaneously lovers and friends with. Though the former certainly hadn't happened in a while. The chit had mysteriously stolen herself away to Romania for the longest while and Tony had almost successfully put her out of his mind. Until today. Now he regretted not having at least tried to stay in contact with her. If his memory served him well, they'd always had a good time when in one another's company.
"What? Do I not look ill to you?" He looked down at himself, pulling a straight face. Looking back up at her, he leaned forward as if to tell her a secret. "I am, you know. See, my heart was broken quite a while ago and no one seems to be able to fix it. They keep dragging me in here, trying their miracle cures and what not. Those nurses..." he shook his head and winked at a young, redheaded orderly as she pushed a cart by them. The girl blushed furiously and giggled. Tony flashed her a smile before turning back to Victoire. Tapping his fingers idly on the counter of the nurse's station, he sobered. If there was anyone he could talk about his mum it would be Victoire. She wouldn't give him pity or wishes she didn't feel. No, 'oh, I'm so sorry.' No bullshit. Which was just as well, for Tony would have simply discarded such things as useless bits of talk.
"Actually," he started to say before hesitating, unable to meet her eyes. He hadn't talked about his mother's illness with anybody beyond her doctors and it was hard for him to just come out with it as casually as he wanted to. Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, he winced. "I'm, uh, here to see my mum." Well, it was out there. He couldn't take the words back and, somehow, he didn't want to. It was almost a relief to have told someone. True, he hadn't actually given much information. His mother could have simply had the Newt Influenza for all Victoire knew. But Tony knew the truth and it was big enough for him to have acknowledged it out loud. And instead of wanting to hurry on to his destination and leave as quickly as possible, to get out of the too-sterile environment, he wanted to linger. Perhaps, just to talk with her just a little bit longer.
ooc: ewww, it's short >.< |
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Post by victoire weasley on May 3, 2009 20:19:11 GMT -6
It's the heart afraid of breaking [/i][/color] THAT NEVER LEARNS TO DANCE[/b][/color] It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance [/i][/color][/font] -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] [/b] she told him when he spilled the news of his mother. She'd never met the woman personally, but she had a grip on his family life. To be truthful, those really weren't the types of topics they would converse about during their get together. Tony and Victoire had a more 'hands on' kind of relationship, which made it not only harder to walk away each time, but difficult to resist as well. Weighing his reaction to the topic of his mother, Victoire had to decide if she would change the subject or continue on. For some people, talking of bereavement, or their ill loved ones helped them cope, or settled their nerves somewhat. For others, it was just a taboo subject not to be disturbed by outsiders. Victoire decided a change of subject might do better than poking and prodding at the personal life of Anthony Baird. "Ah, and there are my vaccinations." She smiled politely at the nurse who handed her a cooler-like container, and she placed it over her shoulder. "I'm not sure if you're just now coming or leaving, but if you'd like to join me I was going to send these by the office and then take a walk. Its much too beautiful to stay à l'intérieur." She gave him a wink as she managed to work a bit of her mother's native tongue into her sentence. For a time, at Hogwarts, to those she found particularly annoying, Victoire would only speak French. Especially to her cousin Freddie. It not only really frustrated the lad, but it kept him from her business as well. Victoire looked up at Anthony, her brow raised in sweet calm as she awaited his answer. [/ul][/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by anthony baird on May 14, 2009 11:52:17 GMT -6
-- & --
It was probably bad how eager Tony became at the mere chance of getting out of the hospital. And he'd only been inside it barely five minutes! Maybe it was the too-sterile smell, or the fact that in every room lay sickness or injury, or maybe it was being confronted with death at every turn inside a hospital. Being an auror, Tony was used to putting himself on the line for his job, of risking his life. He was well acquainted with death, you could say. But this was a different kind of death. It was the kind that was slow, ailing, and difficult. The kind that terrified him. The same kind that was dragging his mother down to the underworld and there seemed no way to redeem her. That's what the hospital represented for him. Death, sickness, guilt, frustration, despair. These were the emotions Mungo's brought out in him and Tony despised being so vulnerable to it. In his eyes, it was a weakness. Why could he simply visit his mother and leave without experiencing the entire plethora of negative feelings his visits evoked? It would make it easier to see her, lying weak on a hospital bed and knowing she was there indefinitely, away from the only world she'd known.
A stab of guilt went through him as he remembered that it was his fault that she was here. No, he hadn't infected her with the mysterious illness, but he had taken her away from the muggle world -- stubbornly thinking his would know how to treat her better. Maybe they could, but Tony couldn't see the different between the wizard healers and the muggle doctors as of yet. She was still sick, getting worse by the day, and they could figure out nothing. Ten years ago, he'd walked away from his old life with the Grantlands and, consequently, lost one parent. Only to find another living a completely different life. From where Tony stood just then, it appeared that he would also lose her too. While his mind registered the fact, his heart didn't. He was numb, pushing away any feelings when he thought about his mum. Perhaps that was more the reason why he hated the hospital so, for what it represented towards his own loss. For what it seemed to be taking away from him. One day soon, he knew, his avoidance of it would come back to kick him in the ass. He could rage and yell at the powers that be, scream about the unfairness of it all, but it wouldn't make a difference. His rationale told him that. Fighting with those unseen deities never changed a single thing.
And then there was Victoire. Standing there with her golden hair and flashing smile, like an angel almost. If that wasn't too prosaic a thing to say. Er, think? Here she was, offering him a way out, an excuse to postpone the inevitable a little bit longer. What else could he do but take the opportunity while it came? Guilt had become such a close feeling inside him, that he barely felt it scratching at the inside of his chest in the vicinity of where his heart should be. There were dozens of things he could tell his mother later for why he'd taken so long to visit her. He hadn't actually given her a specific time that he'd be there. Sure, it was an exercise in avoidance but Tony was too weak a man at the moment to turn it down and do the difficult thing. There were too many variables that kept him from doing so. One being that he hadn't seen his friend in ages and it was a perfect opportunity to catch up. And that, really, was the deciding factor. At least, that's what he told himself.
"Hmmm, a walk? He said, rubbing the bit of growth on his cheek. He really ought to shave before he left for the school, but Tony was growing kind of fond of the new look it lent him. "With you, how can I say no?" He smiled charmingly, holding out his bent arm exaggeratedly. "Milady?" He offered.
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