h o l l y (hollyharpie) wrote in valesco,
@ 2013-11-25 23:50:00

Entry tags:

andrea johnson, anton chang, charles spinnet, delilah spinnet, group, holly troy, howell williams, larkin whitby, louis bonaccord, michal conway lynch, miles lufkin, mirabelle jasper, richard house, richard thorough, saoirse mullet, seth wadcock, therese bonaccord, thomas mccormack, veronica zeller, victoria cadwallader

Open to Quidditch Guests!
She was a champion.

Holly wouldn't (and couldn't, since she was sure it was well-documented) deny that she had cried. Quidditch had been her life for so long, and to have this stretch of a career without a league cup to call her own, it was hard to deal with. Seasons were long and ehxausting, they took away all your time and energy, and to not win the cup meant that you'd just wasted the year. Sure, there were the fans, there was making personal records, and even the international circuit was fun, but Holly had needed this win so badly that she still got shivers when she thought about it. She'd done it, and she'd been the best.

She sighed, taking in the surroundings. Appleby Park had been transformed into a wonderful setting for the event, the spells on the stadium keeping the guests warm and the night sky bright above them. The league cup sat on its platform in the middle of the dance floor, looking like a glorious holy grail that she'd finally wrapped her hands around. Her husband was here somewhere, but she was lost in the sea of people. Teammates, competitors, agents, and the media, it was simply a night for the game she loved, and Holly couldn't remember a moment when she'd been happier with everything in her life.

As she made her way to the bar, she spotted one of her aforementioned teammates standing off and away from the rest of the guests. Holly, not one to ignore a teammate as she'd taken on the role this past season as, well, a mother-hen (but don't tell Theo), she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her head.

"You're missing all the fun," she said, taking their elbow. When Holly finally got a good look at their face, she frowned, "What's wrong? It looks like you've seen a ghost."

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alongday
2013-12-27 09:35 pm UTC (link)

It felt as if her heart had stopped. Her entire body had frozen at his touch, it all just seemed so...unreal. Therese had not come to this party hoping to see Michal like she had at past events. She had felt as if she had accepted the end of their relationship, finally. Accepted was the key word, however, because a person could accept their fate and not be happy about it. She pressed her lips together, eyes not leaving his.

She had waited to hear these words for so long. As someone who helped people get through rough patches, Therese knew that she had been missing that closure. He had just...he'd just left. No questions had been answered, nothing had been resolved. Her heart had been left broken and in pieces for such a long time, and she'd resisted and resisted (and failed, as she recalled that midnight meeting on his porch) to confront him. He wasn't worth it her friends had said, she shouldn't waste her time.

Her logical mind worked tirelessly on the many aspects of their breakup, the situation while her heart ached and raged. Therese understood Michal's running away from a professional standpoint so her heart battled her head over and over again. So what did she do to ignore the internal battle? She'd skipped the country to France, to the States. Teased an artist who wished her to be his muse and snogged a bloke who was literally perfect for her in every way except for the brutal fact that his fiancée had just died. Dyed her hair, wore short skirts to muggle bars, whisked her friend's children to toy stores and spent far too much money on them. What a random year it had been, and Michal taking hold of her face right now seemed to strangely fit into place.

Therese smiled sadly. He seemed so honest with his words as alcohol tended provide an easier filter for the mind's thoughts to get past. She had answers to all his questions but her voice caught in her throat. He was the answer to all of them, did he really not know that?

"Michal..." she said softly, eyes breaking away from his as she searched the party for one of his friends. He wasn't in a state to be left alone. Therese looked back up at him, hand reaching to touch his, the one he had placed against her cheek. She'd desperately missed his touch and involuntarily leaned into his grasp. "You're very drunk."

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howl
2013-12-28 08:33 pm UTC (link)

Howell had been having as good a time as one could have when celebrating the victory of another team, especially when one's girlfriend played for said team, which was surprisingly a nice time indeed. Saoirse, tipsy as tipsy could be with not simply champagne but the heady feeling of a league victory, flitted to and from his side through the night, but he didn't mind. She was so rarely this carefree and open, and other than ensuring she didn't accidentally drink herself to sickness, Howell had no wish to dampen her spirits and was content to be a wallflower.

Late in the evening, when she came back to him, seemingly for good, she seemed to wrap herself right around him without a care. Hands crept in rather illicit places, and there was definitely some pinching—although not of his doing. His one drink had relaxed him enough to tease her right back, and it seemed they might, in fact, duck out of the party. He relaxed against the wall as Saoirse whispered in his ear, his eyes reduced to slits. They wandered aimlessly over the crowd, until, through the haze, he spotted drunk Michal. Very close to him was, if he was not mistaken, his ex-girlfriend Therese.

His body stiffened. Howell regretted what was about to come out of his mouth before he even knew he was going to say it. He tried, as hard as he could, to choke them back, but his unfortunate loyalty knew no bounds.

"I have to go," he said heavily, his hand wrapping around Saoirse's waist, not to bring her closer but to push her further away. Saoirse's eyes widened and before she could do more than make a noise that was both disbelieving and angry, he put his hands up pleadingly. "I'm sorry," he said hastily, kissing her temple before straightening and backing away, "I'm sorry, I just have to—I'll—I'll be back."

He purposefully neglected to mention with someone else in tow.

It seemed as if he'd made it just in time, as the two people's heads inclined towards one another, and—hands were touching, laid on her cheek in a seemingly intimate gesture. Howell furiously wondered where Seth had gone, and vowed to himself to ream out his teammate when he had a chance..

He made a lot of noise as he approached them, flagging Michal down. "Oh—there now—there you are." Howell not so gently yanked Michal's free arm while subtly nudging the back of Michal's knee with his own foot so his sozzled Keeper began to crumple. "I've been looking for you," he said admonishingly, sliding a supporting arm around Michal's waist. Just as he was about to turn away, Howell's attention went to the witch from whom he'd not quite forcefully pried Michal from.

"Sorry," he figured he should say. His glance fell on Michal, and then he squared his shoulders. "If he bothered you. He's used that speech on three girls already. I thought my girlfriend was about to snap his fingers off." Howell paused and readjusted his listless friend. "I'll take him off your hands."

He then towed Michal, currently nuzzled into his neck, off in the direction from which he had come, eyes glued to the floor so he could pretend all the while not to notice the increasingly burning stare of his infuriated girlfriend.

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conways
2014-01-23 06:02 pm UTC (link)

Had Therese been Howell this whole time? With the amount of swiftness their faces morphed from one to the other, Michal felt inclined to believe so. Which, was strange, for he had never thought that Howell resembled his ex-girlfriend before, but he supposed it wouldn't be the first time he'd found himself fondling the side of Howell's face with care.

"Howell," Michal hissed, once his bearings were caught (had no one else felt that shift in gravity? The floor had moved). His own feet slipped beneath him.

"Has anyone ever---" His lips pressed together in an amused manner, now finding his own thoughts deeply amusing. Head knocking about, on a whim it fell to rest on the younger wizard's shoulder. Nose pressed to Howell's robes, Michal immediately wondered why his friend's neck smelled like perfume.

"You look just like Therese," Michal mumbled, a hint of regret in his tone. His brow furrowed, and moving enough, his chin popped out so that his blurry eyes could gaze over Howell's shoulder. "I thought you were her, I thought---"

His dejected tone immediately died, and all at once, Michal's flopping hands seized whatever body part of Howell they could grip. His body straightened, and like a beast being beckoned by its beacon, Michal immediately began to trudge forward with Howell in tow, despite said direction being the very way Howell had been walking.

"SAOIRSE MULLET!" Michal screeched, after having spotted her absolutely refusing to let her out of sight. He had Howell here, and she was there, he could force them to sit down together (with him) and then--- Michal turned to smile brilliantly at Howell. Saoirse Mullet was here.

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