[MP - Madrid, Spain] What we live for (Quinn)

15th May 2004

She had been nominated for the Sportswitch of the Year award by the magazine ‘Which Broomstick?’ twice before and Aglaya doubted that she’d win this time. Sure, she had won the past European Championships quite impressively, but overall her year hadn’t been great. Admittedly all the low points of the past months were not counting when it came to the award but her gut feeling was that she stood no chance to get the award. Something good like that just didn’t fit in with the horrors of the past months and, if she was entirely honest, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted this attention now.

Ever since her poisoning, Aglaya was happy when she could keep a low profile. When nobody expected her to attend public events or give official statements. However, her family made it quite clear that it was an honour to be nominated and that she had to attend the ceremony in Madrid. There was no way around that and Aglaya knew that there was no point in trying.

Her anxiety was still overwhelming these days and not even the potions that her mother offered her were helping a lot. She didn’t want to be drugged, anyway. She wanted, no, needed to stay alert. Halfheartedly Aglaya prepared a little speech, but it didn’t feel right to think about this much. She probably wouldn’t need it and even if she did - this was hardly important these days. In the past, she remembered, she had been dying to receive this award. She’d have felt great about it. Now, it would be good for the sport of artistic flying but for her, personally, it didn’t matter much.

She arrived in Madrid, wearing a long dress and high heels that made her easily six feet tall. Her red hair fell down her shoulders in perfect waves and her makeup was carefully chosen to make her look her best. For once the young woman hadn’t protested when her mother told her that both her bodyguards would come to the event with her. It felt awkward but at least Branimir’s presence helped her not to panic right away.

Aglaya hoped that the ceremony wouldn’t take long and that she could just go home after the winner would be announced. She had a feeling that it would turn out to be Guadalupita Gómez. She only half listened as the host pointed out the achievements of all the nominees who were all seated in the front row with their companions. Then a golden envelope was opened and she heard her name.

’And the winner is… Aglaya Antonovna Tikhomirova…’

It was like a shock. Her heart skipped a beat and she didn’t listen to what else was said. There was applause and some muttering. Ivo nudged her and told her that she’d have to go on stage now. Aglaya hesitantly got up from her seat and went on stage. Her heart was beating frantically as she approached the host. ‘Don’t stumble,’ she told herself as she felt everybody was watching her. She could walk well in heels in general, she moved elegantly per se. However, her legs felt like jelly. She felt more nervous, more anxious now than she did at the World Championships.

Somehow she managed to force a smile on her face as the host congratulated her and was grateful that both Branimir and Ivo stayed in the background and didn’t attract unnecessary attention. She received a little trophy and looked at it for a moment after she took it. Her hand was trembling but she hoped that nobody would notice it. Then she looked at the other athletes in the front row and swallowed. She knew she had to say something now. The speech that she had planned was forgotten, as though she had been obliviated.

“Thank you so much,” she began in a hoarse voice and then cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she muttered before she went on louder and in a much steadier voice than she had expected herself. “It is an honour to become Sportswoman of the Year. It means a lot to me and is an important milestone for the sport of artistic flying. We have worked hard to develop this sport further and make it better known for many years. Finally we are getting international recognition and can compete with other sports in terms of popularity. I want to thank all those who voted for me here and supported me throughout the years. Without fans who enjoy watching artistic flying there wouldn't be any big competitions. Without your support I wouldn't be standing here. I hope that this title will increase the popularity of our beautiful sport further and encourage young witches and wizards to try it out for themselves. We always welcome new members at the artistic flying school. That being said, I want to thank everyone involved in running the school for offering us athletes such great training conditions which enable us to excel in competitions.” She looked at the host, willing them to take over again.

As she left the stage again, Aglaya felt somehow nauseous and definitely not ready to face and talk to any people. She made a beeline for the restrooms and as she stepped inside Branimir and Ivo looked at each other indecisively. “Just wait here,” Aglaya snapped at the two men as the door fell shut behind her. She would not let them check the ladies’ room before she went in and certainly would not allow them to join her in there. The whole point in coming here now was to have a brief moment of peace and quiet. It was more than unlikely that her stalker was waiting in there for her and Branimir and Ivo were guarding the door so that nobody could step in without their knowledge.


@Quinn Regan

OOC: Sorry, this turned out quite long. I hope you can work with it. Let me know if I need to make any changes <33

And the award went to-- who cared? It wasn’t Quinn. Her mam--Quinn’s date--clasped her hand over her own, and that was the only thing that kept Quinn in her seat. She knew she shouldn’t make a scene but she didn’t want to make a scene. She just wanted to leave. She should have brought a plus one that didn’t know her so well.

Quinn crumbled the small piece of parchment she held in her other hand, Cushla’s notes about who Quinn needed to mention in her acceptance speech--because it was assumed she would win--because she couldn’t very well go up there and talk about herself, apparently. Wasted effort, now.

She had been the only real athlete nominated, for feck’s sake. Racing, dueling, ugh-- Quinn watched the ‘sportswoman’ take the stage, sitting up a little straighter when she clocked how tall she was, as if she could look any taller than 5’1” (5’4” with her heels tonight but that didn’t help her sitting rather than standing on stage like she should have been). She breathed pointedly through her nose, trying to clear her head.

Her attempt to tune the woman out went poorly; she heard the words artistic flying and she gripped the arm rest a little tighter. She would have rather lost to the old woman, she-- wow, that woman had some nerve saying ‘sport’ an awful lot. English clearly wasn’t her first language so she must have been confused with what the word meant. And did artistic flying really compete with quidditch for popularity? Did anything? Who bragged to their mates when their artistic flying team did well?

But there was a school for it, no less. She had to be kidding now, but no one was laughing. This was a shite award, wasn’t it? Thankfully Quinn hadn’t invited the rest of the family; she had been close to doing so considering the show was in Madrid, as were the Castillos. Quinn swallowed, still seething, itching to leave (and not stay for the after party). The host took back over soon and she seized her chance as her mam applauded the winner. “Toilet,” she hissed at her mam, only realizing that was where she was genuinely headed after she had left the main room behind her.

Quinn finished up and pushed the stall open, only to find her--the ‘sportswoman’--standing just inside the door. She was taller up close, and Quinn rolled her shoulders back as she smoothed down the skirt of her dress. Her eyes had gone a little wide seeing her, but she composed herself and walked to the sink to start washing her hands. “Congratulations,” she said, only looking at the woman’s reflection in the mirror.

Aglaya had been relieved to enter the ladies’ room just to get a break. A break from the crowd, from her bodyguards, from people, but she had barely closed the door behind herself when she found herself eye to eye with another nominee. The mask of a smile spread across her face. It was getting increasingly hard to keep up a facade but she could still do it, she had to do it.

’Congratulations.’

She heard the word. She saw that Quinn was looking at Aglaya’s reflection in the mirror and not looking at her directly. She stepped forward to the sink next to the one that the Quidditch player was using and made eye contact with the other woman’s reflection.

“Thank you,” she said. Then she hesitated. She didn’t want to talk. She really just wanted to be alone, because everything felt so wrong right now. However, she felt obliged to make some conversation, knowing that her family would expect her to be professional and dignified.

“I didn’t really expect to win this award this year when so many great athletes were nominated,” she confessed. However, as she spoke these words she was aware that had the positions been reversed she would not believe a single word and likely wish for the winner to stop talking. She was close to apologising but refrained when she had already opened her mouth to speak

“I like your dress,” she complimented the other woman instead. Aglaya really hoped that Quinn did not pick up on how uneasy she felt. She lowered her gaze as she noticed that her polite smile was fading. She didn’t dare to look at her reflection anymore now, fearing that she’d look just as tired and scared as she felt.