your rhythm makes it light and explode // david

[Astraia Yaxley]

Following the incident with Julian at her house, Astraia had sat down on her bed and flopped back, sinking into her covers. This had proved to be an ill-thought out plan, because she could still smell Julian on her sheets, and sinking into the softness of the mattress and sheets invoked memories of what had just taken place.

Springing up, Astraia had paced around her room, before realising how utterly suffocating her room seemed all of a sudden. She desperately needed to get out. Now, with this in mind, she was charging around her room, slipping into her wardrobe to find some clothes. Deciding comfort was key right now, she pulled on an old formal shirt of Kol's, tying it up at the base around her waist to stop the excess from swamping her. Tugging on some billowy black trousers, she put on some fluffy blue slippers and padded out to her room, standing in front of the fireplace.

Biting her lip, Astraia thought about where she wanted to go; she didn't really have a lot of options, and while Kol was her go-to about pretty much everything, often followed by her siblings or Soraya, he wasn't her first choice to discuss sex with. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to talk about it, and she knew that if she went to him, he'd have it out of her in decent time. Sighing, she took a handful of floo powder and threw it in the fire, shouting out an address.

Tumbling out into Kieran's flat, she managed to recover rather gracefully - all things considered, anyway - and ended up firmly on her feet, the fluffy blue slippers softening the contact. Considering her attire - genuinely informal, though the slippers were possibly a tip into the indecent range, depending on who you talked to - she thought that maybe she should have taken into account the fact that Kieran did not, in fact, live alone.

And - just her luck - her thought was not in vain, seeing as the other occupant of the room was not Kieran, but a rather scruffy looking fellow. Astraia made her way over to the bench, cocking an eyebrow at him. She assumed he was one of Kieran's flatmates, and indeed, he seemed somewhat familiar... but everything she may have known about him was escaping her right at that moment. "I suppose you're one of Kieran's flatmates?" she inquired, by way of introduction.

Honestly. It was just her luck that the one time Kieran's comfortableness with his sexual endeavours would actually come in useful, he wasn't actually around. Boys. Always so inconvenient.

---

ooc. this is me assuming the boys are on the floo network, but i did consider that may be too organised for them, so in the case of that, imagine she floo-ed over to the leaky or something?

also sorry for the length when compared to how much is actually relevant to david, sigh; she doesn't have much to say to him right off the bat!

[David Fell]

David Fell was most certainly not an individual who suffered from illnesses often. Quite frankly, the last memory he could conjure up of being properly ill was when he'd caught a stomach bug when he was on his travels after he'd left Hogwarts, and his very reluctant girlfriend had had to take care of him. He'd been remarkably cheerful about the entire thing, however, despite the fact that he'd been banished to the bathroom all day, slumped on the tiles, every now and then having to lean over and stick his head in the toilet. Oh, he was no stranger to raging hangovers, but they didn't really count, and he was more than used enough to drinking to simply get on with it. Generally he found that a fry-up cured such a sickness, although he was so horrendous at cooking that he often ended up burning the sausages and somehow (although no one would ever be quite sure how) even completely failing at producing a fried egg.

This, however, was why he had been absolutely refusing to admit that he wasn't fit for going in to work the past few days. His nose had been clogged up tremendously, his throat so scratchy all of his words left his mouth sounding half-deformed, his mind was jumbled all over the place and he was in a fit of absolute exhaustion, but no matter what any of his flat-mates or his co-workers said, he would brightly ward off any suggestion of taking a sick day. It was only when, the previous day, his superior snatched his coffee right out of his grasp, eyed him beadily, and insisted he take a day off and rest up because he was going to spread something on to the rest of the patients, did he cease and desist, and he straggled home after work that day and positively fell into bed, sleeping a bit easier with the knowledge that there would be no need whatsoever to wake up at the crack of dawn after a couple of hours.

And so he had obediently stayed at home, shuffling around in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt that read "Keep Calm and Drink Firewhiskey" and attempting to nourish himself. It was rather odd that, for a Healer, he absolutely refused to admit that he was sick, but he knew well enough a bit of rest and quite a lot of warmth would have him fighting fit in no time. As for the exhaustion - well, he'd get his sleeping schedule sorted out someday. At least he had time for Gin and Tonic. Gin, as usual, was sprawled on the sofa, snoozing, and David gave him a little pat of solidarity on the head every time he passed him.

Eventually, once he had tired himself out all over again with padding around the flat and committing himself to mundane, mindless jobs, he hunted around the fridge and found some left-over potato soup. With a very proud air about him, he left it to heat up, and hobbled over to collapse beside Gin. Almost immediately, Tonic flung herself across the room and hopped onto David's lap, eyeing him reproachfully. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I told you that I was going to be doing quite extreme working hours. And it's for you, you know. To keep the food in your dish..." Tonic mewed, and she didn't seem particularly impressed by this explanation. "Well, we've got today together, at least," David said, in an attempt to placate her, scratching her behind her ears. "Might as well enjoy it. I'll make up for all the attention I should've been giving you this week..." Finally, Tonic seemed to accept this, and she settled down on his lap, piping up with a final mew.

Just then, a slight diversion was caused by a girl popping out of the fireplace. David made a deeply impressed noise when she righted herself gracefully, but was unable to clap as Tonic would've surely gone wild if he stopped cuddling her. He wasn't sure if he knew the girl or not, but he was so used to people just sort of wandering into the flat that he wasn't at all alarmed. After all, four of them lived there, and it wasn't as if any of them were serious social failures. The girl approached him, one eyebrow quirked.

"Last time I checked," he responded blithely. "I'm David. I cook potato soup. These are my cats. I don't have a sex-life, as I'm sure Kieran has informed you."