Ravenclaw
Student
Sass
open & committed
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Polysexual
17 years old
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Post by Miles Phillip Fawcett-Vance on Mar 28, 2019 4:02:23 GMT |
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Post by Dominique E. Weasley on Mar 30, 2019 0:33:23 GMT
Blinking got harder when your body was exhausted. Somehow it felt like every muscle was exerting itself just to get your eyes open again once they had closed, and like there was a genuine strain to keep it that way. Dom had enjoyed her fair share of exhaustion - usually she was pretty could at organising her time, and she didn't always have an erratic sleep schedule, because even though she didn't particularly enjoy slowing down, she could appreciate that she only ever did her best when she was rested. Sleep existed for a reason, you know. Still, she had the unfortunate habit of not listening to reason and pushing herself a little too far without realising it. And when she did come to that realisation that her body was no longer co-operating with her, she always came to regret it - and she felt similarly now, even if she knew it wasn't her fault this time. That aching tiredness, and staving off sleep between every blink was never fun, and she really just hated letting herself get like this, where she felt like she couldn't even keep control over her own bodily functions.
Still, even that gratefulness at Miles' presence wasn't able to undercut the little flare of annoyance she felt - and as much effort as it took, she still tried to strain her eyes to glower at him a little when he called her crazy. That she wasn't going to dignify with a response, mostly because even when she was at her most touchy (like now, but she wasn't currently self-aware enough to realise that at the present moment) she knew he would only ever say that in jest. But also because she felt like saving any fight back she had for when she wasn't basically on the floor - and you know, the offer of being carried was incredibly appealing, and some small self-preservation instinct in her said, 'Play nice with the person who's giving you help'. Needs must and all, and even being dragged sounded better than trying to push her own self forward all the way to wherever they were going at this point.
As he bent over for her, she started moving slowly into action, silently taking him up on his offer. With as little grace as her Veela genes allowed her to have, she clutched at her friend and started to pull herself up, all the while listening to him pleasantly babble to her about things that weren't her heaving stomach again, and she was grateful to be going back to the distracting chat from before again. It did help, and she was able to let her mind start thinking about other things than feeling sorry for herself, as she wrapped her arms around him. "Are you speaking from experience?" she blurted out, unable to stop her thoughts from just coming out completely unfiltered. "Did your Ben spike punch at a gala once? If he has I don't think I can be his friend any more." She sighed tiredly, and let her forehead rest against Miles' back - it was warm, which wasn't as nice as the cool of the brick she'd been laid against a few minutes ago, but it was significantly softer and more comforting. "I'm gunna send him an angry hoot later."
Some of the rest sounded very good though. Bed. Shower. Cold water, that would be great. And a pillow and a duvet? Merlin. "I'd prefer it if neither of you were there actually," she said honestly. "I definitely don't need Lottie in a shower with me after yesterday. Healthy friendship distances with clothes on. I like those boundaries." She yawned. "Big fan of a boundary, actually."
tagged: Miles Phillip Fawcett-Vance
words: 617
notes: #domiles