Post by Quinn Locksley on Feb 11, 2008 23:47:08 GMT
Quinn had not mentioned it to anyone but her healer during a feverish fit that she had lost her wand in the blaze that consumed her hair, pride and a week of her time. She had been dragged out of the burning building moments before it collapsed, broken arms, rids, bleeding head and split cheek to mention but a few of her injuries. Her healer had told her to stay in bed the day she had gotten out of it and gotten dressed.
“Shut up, you old hag,” Quinn has spat at her as she slowly pulled her jeans on. “I have to go. I can’t wait around any more or you’ll have to drag me to St Mungo’s in a straight jacket.” She still had a bandage wrapped tightly around her midriff to keep the broken ribs in place and the pain shot through her like a bullet. She fell onto the bed and pulled her jeans on with her feet in the air. It was the easiest way to get them on. Quickly, pulling on a blouse Quinn left the room and headed down stairs and out of the Three Broomsticks, where she was still occupying a room. This had gone on long enough.
She marched as quickly as she could, clenching her teeth against the pain. As she made her way to the wand shop, Quinn was reminded about her failure but every aching muscle and her still pounding head. For some reason none of the healers treatments had worked. “Tis coz ya body don’t want ‘elp ‘ealing, m’arm,” she had told Quinn. “Ya body’s rejectin’ the med’cine an’ you won’t get much ‘elp out me else I waits on you.” She did wait on Quinn and though she was grateful she did not like the constant interference and meddling the woman seemed persistent on putting her through.
She quickly came to the door of the shop and went inside. A bell tinkled above her head but she was not startled by it, little would startle her now. Expecting help to come to her, Quinn looked around at shop. Quaint, filled with boxes upon boxes, presumably filled with wands. She had grown quite attached to her wand in the past seven years. She had broken the first and now the second was nothing more then ashes. Quinn Locksley desperately needed a new wand but wouldn’t show her desperation for anything.
“Shut up, you old hag,” Quinn has spat at her as she slowly pulled her jeans on. “I have to go. I can’t wait around any more or you’ll have to drag me to St Mungo’s in a straight jacket.” She still had a bandage wrapped tightly around her midriff to keep the broken ribs in place and the pain shot through her like a bullet. She fell onto the bed and pulled her jeans on with her feet in the air. It was the easiest way to get them on. Quickly, pulling on a blouse Quinn left the room and headed down stairs and out of the Three Broomsticks, where she was still occupying a room. This had gone on long enough.
She marched as quickly as she could, clenching her teeth against the pain. As she made her way to the wand shop, Quinn was reminded about her failure but every aching muscle and her still pounding head. For some reason none of the healers treatments had worked. “Tis coz ya body don’t want ‘elp ‘ealing, m’arm,” she had told Quinn. “Ya body’s rejectin’ the med’cine an’ you won’t get much ‘elp out me else I waits on you.” She did wait on Quinn and though she was grateful she did not like the constant interference and meddling the woman seemed persistent on putting her through.
She quickly came to the door of the shop and went inside. A bell tinkled above her head but she was not startled by it, little would startle her now. Expecting help to come to her, Quinn looked around at shop. Quaint, filled with boxes upon boxes, presumably filled with wands. She had grown quite attached to her wand in the past seven years. She had broken the first and now the second was nothing more then ashes. Quinn Locksley desperately needed a new wand but wouldn’t show her desperation for anything.
