Post by lyka cruz malkin on Sept 7, 2024 9:27:57 GMT -7
▲
August 17, 2029
Lyka’s first week of work as the equipment manager for the Ballycastle Bats had finally ended. Somehow, she had survived. Everything hurt, though not as much as her ego did. Watching the actual professionals flying around every day and conducting drills that she had never even been able to attempt due to her own poor form on the broom was demoralizing to a degree that she didn’t even know was possible. Finally, she understood what everyone else had been seeing over the last several years: she was subpar at best as a Quidditch player, and was much better suited to keeping the bench warm and handing over water bottles to the team than she was as an actual player.
The realization of that had taken almost the entire week to appear, after the excitement and exhaustion of the first couple days of work finally wore off. Thank Merlin her bedroom at her parents had sound dampening charms attached to it, as they would have absolutely thought something was wrong with her. Which there was. Nothing had changed on that front, just that she was finally coming to terms with her complete lack of skill in comparison to some of the very best the sport had to offer. Even worse was when she saw players around her age, like Addilyn Slater, be successful in an unconventional way. Bitterness and jealousy had definitely bubbled up a few times over the week, but Lyka immediately tucked it away. If she lost this job, she only had the family shop left to work. And she really didn’t want to be a seamstress for the rest of her life.
Not really feeling like talking about how her first week of work went with her parents, Lyka had found her way over to The Violet Hound. Using her hard-earned money for dinner sort of made her feel a little better. Like she had finally succeeded at something for once. But it definitely didn’t change her demeanor at all. She was still upset over how everything had turned out. It was incredibly hard not to feel that way. Picking away at the remnants of her food, she stared ahead at the shelf of liquor behind the bar. She could drink legally now, but falling into that sort of habit seemed like a horrible idea. That and she really didn’t want to explain to her parents that she was using alcohol as a coping mechanism. They would find out eventually. They always did.
OPEN ● 415
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0