WHO: Rose Knightley and Carys Parkin
WHAT: Rose goes nuts during the Kestrels game and Carys calls an important TIME OUT
WHERE: Catapults Stadium??
WHEN: Tonight during the match!



“Oh he’s fine,” Rose snapped, ripping her elbow pad off and hurling it to the ground as she stormed into the locker room. It was just a bit of blood, there were worse injuries Spinnet could have sustained from her knocking him off his broom. It most definitely hadn’t been worth Carys calling a timeout--- what good did that do? This entire game had been a bloodbath from the get go, and this hadn’t been the first morally questionable incident to occur.

Rose recognized, vaguely, as she tore off her other elbow pad, that her foul count on Charlie Spinnet alone this match was already higher than her combined total against all opposing players the past year, but was it her fault that he had an excruciatingly irritating face? The Catapults needed to win this game to have a chance at making playoffs, and if she had enough aggression to mercilessly disable the keeper for easy points, then not? It was quidditch, that’s what you did.

She let out a short frustrated noise, kicking her recently tossed things into the lockers. Rose wasn’t really sure why she felt the need to hurl her equipment to the ground, or better yet send it flying, but it felt necessary. It was the easiest thing to throw, she supposed.

“Well?!” Rose let out, spinning back to look hard at Carys. She was the one to pull her aside.

Carys wasted no time; she grabbed Rose by the arm and shoved her hard into the locker bay, not letting go of her grip on the other woman’s arm.

“Have you lost your fucking MIND?” she shrieked, shaking her fellow Chaser roughly. Carys had never, ever seen Rose act so erratically and violently, she had never seen---it was absolutely the most brutal and ridiculous match she’d even taken part of. With how close the teams near the playoff cut line were, every last goal counted and if Rose was wasting shots by using Spinnet’s head as target practice, it could quite nearly cost them the season. Carys could (barely) handle losing if their best efforts were put forth because blaming a loss on Courtney was easy, but if Rose was the one costing them goals and a chance to move up in the ranking? No fucking way.

Carys finally let her teammate go, only to throw her arms up into the air in frustration. The timeout had been more out of necessity, as it was sure that Spinnet’s nose had been broken in his last blast to the face and it needed to be treated. Most days Carys would be in agreement with the ferocious tactics, but it didn’t seem like Rose was trying to distract the keeper to score a goal. No, Rose seemed to just want to kill Charlie Spinnet. It was a common feeling amongst those in the league, but this was ridiculous.

“Do you know how many goals you’ve cost us already?” she began, starting to pace, “Do you know how many points we need to get into the bloody playoffs? Do you know that if we don’t make the fucking playoffs that we will most likely see a disbanding like we did last offseason?” With each ‘question’ Carys’ voice grew higher, all her frustrations and anxieties from the past season coming out. She wanted to throttle Rose. “What is your PROBLEM? Do you want to get cut?!”

Her eyes blazed as Carys shook her, her sheer rage and frustration fueling her to feel impenetrable to almost anything, especially her captain’s harsh words. Well obviously she wasn’t in a right state, a bloody monkey could have noticed that. Rose began to aggressively twist her arm within Carys’ grip, thinking next to begin flailing it, when the other witch let go.

Rose crossed her arms over her chest, feeling her leg automatically stick out in a defiant manner. As she watched Carys rant, she thought about how she knew all those things, and while they were important, these issues had seemed to take a backseat in the confines of her mind. It wasn’t---

“Not that many,” Rose retorted without thinking, now throwing her hands to her sides. It hadn’t, really been that many. And it hadn’t---

She had been ready to hotly respond that she didn’t have a problem, but that wasn’t true, was it? There were a lot of problems, Rose was currently experiencing and working through a lot of problems at this current time, so she couldn’t say that. So, instead, she slitted her eyes, and twisted her face. Obviously they weren’t going to cut her for a bit of overzealousness--- what more could management do to her that they hadn’t already?

“I’m not sorry!” Rose sniffed, unable to think of anything else to say. She didn’t have to explain herself, and she certainly did not feel remorse for her actions, so Carys was just going to have to deal with it. She thought, rather quickly, that she wanted to say something that had some particular bite or nastiness to it, but nothing came to mind quickly.

“Every. Goal. Matters!” Carys let out, stopping in front of her chaser, a bewildered look in her eyes.

Not that many. Not that many! They needed to destroy the Kestrels, they needed to add up their total to surpass the Wasps and the Arrows, they needed to make the playoffs because if they didn’t, many a career would be on the line. If Rose thought she was some big-shot Chaser now that she was playing for England, that she’d been chosen to the All-Star team, she was sorely mistaken and Carys would let her know that. Even Carys, who was a Catapults Legacy player that for some reason the fans completely loved and adored no matter the stupid shit she pulled, was on the cutting block.

She wasn’t ready to give up on the Catapults, and she wasn’t about to let some idiot blonde flower go and ruin their chances.

Rose’s indignant snap caused Carys’ eyes to turn into slits. She wasn’t sorry? She wasn’t sorry that she’d cost their team goals, made them waste a valuable time out and lose whatever little momentum they may have had? She wasn’t sorry, so that meant she was fine with causing the self-implosion of the Catapults? Carys loved few people in this world, and lumped together with her father, Drake, and her baby James, were the Catapults. There was no way someone could disrespect her team and get away with it.

“I am giving you one chance to tell me what the fuck’s the matter with you,” Carys growled lowly, sticking a stiff finger in Rose’s face. For the past few weeks she had simply let Rose’s declining performance be explained by stress from the season, pressure from the management because she at least knew what Rose’s neurosis was capable of. But apparently, Carys had missed some sort of life-altering event in Rose’s life that was causing her to act like a bat outta hell. “I have been letting your shit performance go on for too long and I’m sick of it! Give me a good reason, Knightley!”

Rose forcefully crossed her arms over her chest, snapping her mouth open wide to produce a biting response. Anything! Something would do, even if it was completely unrelated to the topic at hand. But one never came, and she found herself floundering.

A few seconds later, she tried again, propping her mouth open and even leaning forward with a sneer prepared, but--- she faltered. Rose had been thinking... that she could say what did Carys care, but that wouldn’t... do. And then she had thought, maybe she would tell the truth, but it suddenly felt so trivial. My ex-boyfriend had been mean and was a right sexist git.

But that wasn’t even--- even her normally uncomfortable feelings about playing Kestrels had boiled over into this-- anger, she was so angry! Angry at her life, angry at the people in it, angry with herself---

She shook herself, wanting to rid these thoughts from her mind, but it was impossible. They were creeping, she felt them seeping through her mind as this blind rage seemed to subside. And then she felt aggravated, so aggravated with Carys because who was she to change how she felt? They had never been close, teammates yes, but nothing more than---

What was she doing? Rose looked down at her jersey and noticed that she had begun to rip it with her hands. That wasn’t--- no, no--- her bottom lip began to quiver as her eyes swelled. This wasn’t who she was, she didn’t snap, with outrageous aggression, not thinking, thinking at all. And she certainly was not as violent as her display on the field---

Whether a great weight had been lifted or added to her shoulders, Rose couldn’t quite tell. But it felt the same--- she heavily leaned into the lockers, and then eventually, defeatedly, slid down to the floor, face in hands. She couldn’t even--- what could she say? A strangled noise escaped her, as her body suddenly felt physically unable to burst into tears one more time.

“Er---”

Carys watched her teammate’s display with bewildered eyes and slight amusement. Good, she was glad that Rose had stopped behaving like a rabid fool, but that feeling of accomplishment was short lived. Carys wouldn’t say that...that she particularly cared for Rose, she wasn’t very good friends with her off the pitch, but after initially hating the other woman (for no good reason, Carys would admit only to herself), she’d come to at least like her. As a captain, she had noticed her chaser’s decline in performance, and maybe if she’d been paying closer attention as a friend she would have seen the mental distress Rose was obviously under.

She crossed her arms, trying to decide whether or not she should continue being a hard-ass or give the other woman a break and be sympathetic to whatever was going on. Carys couldn’t judge someone for having a mental breakdown; she’d had so many during the last ten years of her life that she should probably be locked up in Mungo’s with the other loonies. This year she’d somehow managed to reign in her madness, but it probably helped that she got to come home to the most beautiful baby in the whole wide freakin’ world and a husband who was built like an adonis and had a hot meal on the stove. Maybe getting your life together had some sort of effect on the frequency of these meltdowns...

With a sigh, Carys dropped down to the ground and sat cross-legged in front of Rose. They didn’t have much time left on this timeout so this little pow-wow had to be quick. To the point. Maybe she wouldn’t even let Rose talk.

“Whatever’s got you like this,” Carys said, feeling strange in the role of mentor. Drake would be proud, he was usually the one giving her the pep talks, “If it’s a boy or your family or the press---It’s not the end of the world. It might really bloody suck right now, but---” Carys shrugged, thinking about how many time she’d honestly believed it would be better just to never wake up than to deal with the shit going on in her life,

“But it’ll pass.” Carys made a twirling motion with her finger, “Like a stupid tornado, it’ll pass.”

Her hands dropped and Rose inched back into the lockers as much as she could. It was a startling sight, seeing Carys sitting squarely in front of her, talking to her like she was, and because of that, she quickly collected her own legs to hold them close. She hadn’t--- really--- her bottom lip began to quiver again, and Rose felt a new rising emotion fill her. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was strong and candid, so much so that she didn’t care how trivial or trite her life might seem to the Carys formerly Llewellyn. She needed to let it out.

“My--- boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, we broke up and I thought---” Rose closed her eyes, already feeling embarrassed. “We broke up, and I slept with someone else even though I’m still--” She reached briefly for her heart between her quick words, thinking it a more significant action than anything she could utter. “But he found out, someone told him, or, he found about everything and he was just--” She cut herself off again, the deep personal embarrassment she had been experiencing all week rearing to a head. Her voice got quieter, because what she divulged next effected her that deeply.

“He said he didn’t care who I--- who touched me , because I was his and that I shouldn’t--- forget it.” She stopped, hot fresh tears filling her eyes now. There was more, something even worse that she couldn’t even bare to utter out loud. That-- that deep down, she couldn’t deny apart of her--- had wanted---- that. In a twisted way she couldn’t completely deny that if it had been under any other circumstances, if it had happened differently, she probably would have forgone all instincts of independence for him. To be his, to know that no matter what happened they were more than just something casual, she would have--- agreed.

Because she did, she had wanted to be his, she realized that now, and she couldn’t lie to herself and say that it felt the same when she thought of him being hers-- it felt so much more significant, like it mattered more--- how could she think that? It made her sick to her stomach to realize she had gotten so wrapped up in Octavius that, even now, she couldn’t deny that under all her anger, and sadness, she couldn’t let go of him.

Merlin what was wrong with her? She was in love with someone who didn’t even share the same fundamental beliefs as her. She couldn’t even swear him off for it, that was how much he had crawled under her skin, and she had tangled and twisted herself within him. Rose squeezed her shoulders together, bringing them close to her neck.

“I’m such an idiot.” Her voice shook vulnerably, and fearfully, as she now felt quite exposed. Rose looked back at Carys with nothing less than a lost face. “I wasn’t even happy when I got my England jersey. Just-- sad, and angry,” she spoke tenderly, thinking back to how she’d broken into tears upon receiving them, instead of congratulating herself, or cheering, or doing anything remotely appropriate to how extraordinary of an occurrence it was. “What is wrong with me?”

Of course this was about a boy, there was nothing on this earth that could unhinge a woman as completely and easily as a boy. Carys strove to recall who Rose was dating, to put a face and a name to the blurry image she had from random encounters at public events or times when they’d met at the stadium. She recalled he had a strange name and that was how she put it together. The littlest Pepper boy, Carys had dubbed him, recalling that he looked remarkably like that brother of his she’d fancied in school.

All right, so she had a face and something of a name. That didn’t give Carys much to develop an opinion of the bloke, but what did that matter now? He and Rose were over and by the sound of it, done with.

“He said what?” Carys let out, staring in shock. There was no doubt that she often claimed Drake as her own and he gruffly agreed or twisted her words, but that was usually in jest or the heat of the moment. From what Rose was telling her, this bloke had definitely lost it and was now claiming her as his own.

What was this bloke trying to accomplish? Was he trying to make Rose feel like she’d never be good enough for another guy? That he wouldn’t let her be with anyone else? He had no right, and Carys could not let Rose sit there and feel as if she had no choice but to deal with his disgusting display. Shaking her head, Carys pushed to her feet and she reached out and grabbed Rose’s arm to pull her up as well.

“Get up,” she said sternly, tugging on her arm, “Get up! You’re going to leave that idiot here on the floor and we’re going back out on the pitch and winning this blasted match.” Carys tugged down her jersey and straightened her robes. Her finger once again stiffly poked itself into Rose’s face. “You’re not an idiot and he doesn’t own you. No one but the Catapults do as of right this instant, all right?”

Rose’s body sagged, feeling thoroughly exhausted as Carys pulled her to her feet. But--- her captain was right; this was her career, the Catapults the only thing in her life that should come first, she couldn’t let anything get in the way of ruining that. That, at least, was clear. And she would work through this because she was a professional.

A professional.

She closed her eyes, and began to nod slowly. The vigour and aggression that had been with her through the game before now was still there, but it was.... under control. Not even uncontrol just... stored to be tapped into for when necessary. She hoped, at least. To be honest, Rose couldn’t make any self promises concerning the condition of Charlie Spinnet’s face by the end of the match, but she supposed she could focus a bit more on scoring than repeatedly breaking his nose over and over again.

“Thank you,” she spoke quietly to Carys, releasing herself from the other woman’s grip to go about finding wherever she had thrown her arm pads.