butterflies and hurricanes | dicky

[addilyn elara slater]

don't let yourself down

don't let yourself go

January 2029
Richard Myron Woods-Knox

Addy waited outside the familiar cobblestone steps of Hogsmeade village. She certainly didn’t visit as often as before. But then again, in those days, the excitement of being with friends and out of the castle had guided her. Given all her assignments were complete, of course. Somehow, she had learned not to disregard all fun during those years. Unfortunately, she had to admit that even her mother had been correct—it was a slippery slope. The events of her seventh year still felt chaotic in her mind, even before the fire.

If Dicky was inside, he was taking his time to answer the door, or perhaps he was in the village somewhere. She crossed her arms out of habit rather than annoyance, though maybe it was simply an inherited Slater trait at this point. But Addy had only really spoken to Grey lately, especially after unceremoniously quitting the Ministry of Magic after the offer of a full-time position. No—Addy had opted to warm the bench of whatever Quidditch Pitch the Holyhead Harpies were to play.

She flew in practices and pre-game warmups, but watching a match from beginning to end with a front-row seat only brought doubt. Still, she didn’t have time for doubt as it had already put her behind. Still, she missed playing matches. This stupid injury had her benched in the meantime. And through the chaos of the fall and beginning winter months, Addy felt only slightly ashamed to admit she had not seen Dicky's new place yet. The one she had to help him (by help she meant push) with because he lingered with a pro and cons list for so long even the paper it was written on felt ancient. And it wasn’t as if she was alone, in her opinion. Plenty had agreed with her. And it saved her the effort of grabbing him by the shirt collar and shaking him into submission, not that Addy ever would. That was definitely a Brígh move.

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[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind.

THERE WAS A DOOR RATTLING SOMEWHERE IN Richie's deep subconscious, manifesting as a great big metal monster knocking down his bedroom door, which subsequently looked an awful lot like the bedroom he'd shared with his little sister as a child a long, long time ago. Its great big metal claws tearing a chunk out of the wooden frame collaged with finger paintings completed diligently by Kara and himself. He was just about to scream when he jolted awake. He was not in his single bed with the Batman duvet cover, but instead sleeping slumped down against his double bed frame from the floor, in the flat he was sharing with two other students.

The door was still rattling, though not his bedroom door. Richie swiped the loose leaf research papers from his lap, jumping to his feet with bleary eyes and a clumsy stumble. 'What time was it?', he wondered internally, trying to recall the last thing he remembered before falling asleep sitting up. Dawn had been peaking through his blinds, the sound of early morning birds twittering, he'd stayed up all night reviewing a set of copied research papers on ancient textile preservation. There was a flaky dribble of drool dried down the side of his mouth, he picked at it grumpily as he exited his bedroom in a sleepy haze.

"Coming!" He called when the door rattled again, his voice hoarse from sleep and disuse. The flat was empty, but it was often empty. Richie didn't run into his roommates very often, but when he did it was almost always a surprise. He felt the niggle of a thought he'd recently forgotten scratching at the back of his brain. "Jeez, I said I was coming." He grumbled when the knocker rattled one more time and his eyes swung wide as he unlocked the door and cracked it open.

"Shit!" He snapped, an eyeful of a sour looking Addy tapping her foot impatiently on the very top step of his flat, practically leaning on the doorway. One of his eyes was partially glued shut with sleep, a cheek creased from where he'd leaned it against his metal bedframe in slumber. "Did I forget something...?" He asked dumbly, stumbling back a step as the door was pushed out of his grip. "I fell asleep..." He added, clearing his throat and rubbing the crust from his eye as he leaned heavily against the wall in the hallway. 

addilyn elara slater

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[addilyn elara slater]

don't let yourself down

don't let yourself go

January 2029
Richard Myron Woods-Knox

Addy tried not to appear so amused at the sight of her friend. Dicky looked a bit of a mess if she wanted to be polite. But years of friendship and experiences taught Addy not to be so judgmental of them. Though often, she could hardly help herself. Merlin knew what Claire or her mother might have said should Addy answer the door as such. ”Yes.” She replied simply. ”You invited me over to see your new place.” Addy reminded him while entering. Immediately, her eyes began to scan from ceiling to floor and wall to wall. Approvingly, she lightly nodded her head.

”I apologize I wasn’t able to drop by sooner—Healer’s orders.” Unfortunately, Addy had to comply with every single rule and stipulation given to her by the Healers after her grisly Quidditch accident the previous month. And she didn’t want to give the Quidditch League a reason to drop her even as a reservist. Then again, healing from a concussion was no laughing matter. ”How are you Dicky—aside from…half asleep?” Addy had always maintained a close friendship with Dicky. The Slytherin and Ravenclaw had found many overlapping beliefs as well as someone who took academics as seriously as she did. Plus, Addy could only handle at most two friends who would run across a room at launch themselves at her with a hug. And Brígh, as her other half, always carried the intensity of two people.

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[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind.

LOOKING FRESHLY DUG UP, RICHIE PICKED THE sleep from his eyes as he faced Addy's stone-faced wrath. She looked terribly put together, considering Richie was still knee-deep in dream world. "I did..." He mumbled, his mouth still too dry to form good sentences without sounding like he'd swallowed a razor blade. "I invited you... to my new place..." It had been another demand of his overbearing older sister, Richie thought as he stumbled back a step to make room for Addy in his narrow flat doorway. He had to invite his friends over, not stew in his bedroom until he fused with the mattress, or so she had said.

"M'sfine." Richie mumbled, rubbing his eye again until he saw stars. His back knocked against the wall of the hallway and he sidestepped his own shoes to let Addy through the small entry space. Richie remembered hearing about her injury, he'd been at the game actually, and it had scared him enough that he'd pushed the invite much harder than he would have if she hadn't gone and knocked herself off her broom. Richie was terribly frightened of losing anybody, especially Addy. "Are you better?" He asked quietly, giving her a sweeping stare from head-to-toe. "You look fine." He added with a helpful shrug.

Following behind Addy, Richie was almost like a guest in his own house. Crossing his arms to keep the post-sleep chill from his bones as he kicked a leg out to nudge the back of her calf and motion his chin toward the kitchen door she had passed. "My tongue feels like s-s-sandpaper," He stuttered, squinting at the bright light streaming through the kitchen window. He ducked into the fridge and pulled out two glass bottles of butterbeer his sister had dropped off for him. He handed one blindly to Addy and leaned against the small wooden breakfast bar erected along one side of the narrow kitchen.

"M'okay." He shrugged carelessly. "I have a- a placement with the archive at the Mystical Museum." He mumbled, popping the cap from his bottle and watching the white foam fizz toward the spout before covering it with his mouth just before it overflowed. The foam was so sweet his teeth ached, but he threw back a gulp anyway. "I have my own portkey... to Wales." He snorted into his bottle with a secret smirk. "How's the bench?" He asked carelessly, but his eyes were sharp with a private concern. 

addilyn elara slater

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[addilyn elara slater]

don't let yourself down

don't let yourself go

January 2029
Richard Myron Woods-Knox

Slowly, the pieces were clicking for her friend. Addy felt as if she could see the gears turning in that mind of his. She entered and began to take stock of the flat. It was nice, and she knew he shared it with others. At their age, it felt the best way to afford anything. Addy liked her living situation, however. Plus, often, the house wasn’t full because Cursebreakers were always traveling somewhere. ”I’m fine.” Addy insisted, probably a little too forcefully. She hadn’t felt her concussion was all that serious either, not like some she had heard about. But the last thing she needed was to become some liability for any Quidditch team.

Even during her time with the Slytherin team and all the various injuries and accidents, Addy never once received a concussion. But this was the big leagues, after all. She was pulled from her thoughts by something touching her leg. Immediately she looked at Dicky, who motioned toward another room. Taking the butter beer, she twisted off the cap and immediately drank before the fizz overflowed. Magic couldn’t explain why Butterbeer always did that in a bottle. It had always been Addy’s favorite, at least until she learned to stomach whisky.

”Do you like it?” When he shared the news of his post-school placement, Addy felt there wasn’t a better job for him. She supposed he was lucky to find that whereas she struggled to find her footing and still felt unbalanced. ”I don’t think I’ve been since…I don’t think Grey had started his first year yet.” That was a long time ago, clearly. So, Addy couldn’t have been more than eight or nine at most. Had she been drinking, the liquid would’ve been inhaled into her lungs. Addy let her gaze narrow and linger on Dicky. Part of Addy didn’t want to acknowledge the question. ”Boring.” She finally admitted, returning to her butterbeer. ”Healers have me on limited flying time for the month.” She didn’t even hide the bitterness anymore.

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[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind.

'FINE' DIDN'T USUALLY WORK FOR MOST PEOPLE, but Richie figured it was better than a full-scale breakdown. Which is sort of what he had expected, seeing as Addy didn't take failure any better than he ever had. It was something they had in common, their searing refusal to accept their limitations. However, even he noticed how sharply the answer was given. He only flinched from the sheer force of it, side-stepping the landmine as he led them into the kitchen with a tired slouch.

Uncapping his butterbeer, he'd upended more than half of it before he had to stop to breathe. Panting into the spout, he barely covered his mouth in time to belch loudly. "Sorry," He mumbled without much feeling, his mouth blessedly sandpaper free as he wiped the fizzy residue from his mouth with the back of his scarred hand. Addy's curiosity about his placement was genuine, though she asked him like she already knew the answer.

"I think so," He nodded, knowing that there was nothing quite like the old artefacts and the smell of ancient parchment to get him going. "They're always getting new artefacts, an-and everything sort of smells funky, but I like it." He finally said out loud, feeling a bit embarrassed all of a sudden as he palmed the back of his neck, feeling it get annoyingly hot. He was minutely distracted when Addy nearly choked on her butterbeer, wondering what it was he could have said to set her off. It was probably the concussion, he decided, shrugging it off as he took another sip of his drink to make sure it hadn't gone off.

Nodding in agreement, Richie kind of already knew how Addy would react to being benched. He compared it to if he'd been cast out of the ancient textiles block for having oily skin. It was something he'd heard had happened to a fellow intern, the thought had made him feel ill. He'd purchased a pair of pure cotton gloves just because of it. Though he hadn't told a soul of this. "A whole month?" Richie scoffed into his bottle and had the decency to arch his brows. "Sounds... a bit extreme." He had absolutely no concept of healing and the logistics around it. "H-how hard did you h-hit your head?" He asked bluntly, squinting at his friend as if he could see the damage through her thick skull. 

addilyn elara slater

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[addilyn elara slater]

don't let yourself down

don't let yourself go

January 2029
Richard Myron Woods-Knox

Addy wasn't eager to discuss the recent downgrade in her career. It was awful because she had very little control over such a thing. The perfect combination of events that match had caused this, and now she was benched again. At the same time, it was mortifying in a sense. She could hear Claire's voice in her head already despite her sister so far being nothing but supportive due to the injury. Failure was not something Addy could accept, so as she felt fine from the minor concussion, her brain had done nothing but try to find solutions.

She hardly had a chance to process what Dicky said about his new career. Instead, he decided to get straight to the point. While Addy felt immediately annoyed, she supposed it was appreciated that her friend didn't walk on eggshells with pity in his eyes while attempting to broach the subject. "It is." Addy agreed, but she could hardly argue with the League's and St. Mungo's healers. "Honestly—it wasn't that bad." Instinctively, Addy leaned away as Dicky stared at her skull. She expected nothing less from her long-time friend.

Drinking more butterbeer, without choking this time, she set the bottle back down while retrieving her phone. "There's a video, of course, if you think you can stomach it." While Addy didn't see the incident as particularly brutal, not all Quidditch incidents were for the faint of heart. She looked through her photos until she found the short video clip and turned the phone to show Dicky. Addy and her fellow beater chasing the opposing team's beaters. Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, a beater hit Addy almost squarely in the chest while the other opposing team's beater also fell off his broom and used Addy as a landing pad.

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