Chapter Text
Rainer remembers the smell of pointe shoes. She remembers the feeling of squeezing her toes into the box and tying the shoe tightly into place. She remembers how the bars felt under her hands, the polish becoming sticky with sweat as the class spent hours at the bar. She remembers the ache in her ankles and feet after practice. And she remembers the feeling of soaring through the air onstage in a grand jete.
She looks down at her legs now, tucked carefully in place against the footrest of her chair, with a blanket settled over them. It’s a plum color, something her uncle made for her, and the knit fibers feel soft against her hands. It’s a good feeling to focus on, especially on days like this, when the pain is bad enough to make focusing difficult, and she has to use the wheel function on her chair. She’s messaged her professors to let them know she won’t be in class, and has let her boss know she can’t come in. Her mom’s left for work already, and her dad has the day off to help her if need be.
Today will be normal, she decides. Today she’ll sit and breathe and take her medication so that tomorrow the pain won’t be so bad. Today is a rest day. She runs her fingers over the blanket on her lap again, and then picks up the book of necromantic spells her dad gave her. It’s actually pretty comforting to read, written out in a way that makes sense and is familiar. The soft leather of the book is warm in her hands, and slowly she allows herself to sink into the spellwork like a soft bed.
Her Notebook chimes gently on the desk, and she startles out of her reading trance, wheeling gently over to check the message. It’s Fitzroy, sending her a perfectly poised message about missing her presence in a spellwork class, and how if she’s feeling up to it he won’t mind pushing her about the nearby park.
She wants to tell him yes. She wants to go on a stroll with him, listen to his awkwardly endearing banter and explanations of things like Boy Cloak Magazine and the fashion statements of different glasses frames. Her hip pulses with new pain as she imagines the chair bumping over loose stones, and she winces. She grabs a quill, and scribbles a quick message back, biting her lip as the pain moves up to include her lower back.
Sorry, I’d love to, but I’m in a lot of pain right now. Maybe tomorrow though?
Of course! As a knight, I would never want to put a lady in pain, and as such I will remain patient and await your return to society.
She grins to herself, feeling giddy at his play-acting and wishing she could rib him about it in person. She settles for writing another short message.
You’re too kind, good sir.
‘Tis but a common courtesy your ladyship.
(But for real, I hope you feel better soon. Need anything?)
I’ll be okay, but thank you. :)
If you’re sure. Holler if you do need something and I’ll be there.
Sure thing Fitz.
Fitzroy Maplecourt. A surprisingly close friend given his overconfidence and general snobby outer shell. However he’s stupidly loyal, enough to curse a poor frat boy with donkey’s hooves for a few weeks. Said frat boy had been harassing Rainer for her dad’s occupation. Fitzroy claims he meant to just make the guy bray like a donkey, and that he was defending Rainer’s honor or some bullshit, but the fear in his eyes was evident to Rainer. She isn’t quite sure if he was afraid that he’d done more than change the guy’s voice, or if he was afraid he’d accidentally cursed Rainer. Either way, they both walked away from the incident, and nobody bothered Rainer after that.
Rainer closes the Notebook and sets it back on the desk, along with the spell book and moves to wheel into the hall. Her leg seizes as she readjusts her weight, and she has to bite down on her tongue to avoid yelping in pain. She holds very still for a moment, breathing deeply through her nose, and then slowly relaxing into her chair. When she opens her eyes, her dad is leaning in the doorway, looking a mix of concerned and proud.
“You okay pumpkin?” He asks, tucking his glasses into his shirt pocket.
“Sure,” she grits her teeth in a grimace, and he laughs softly.
“Bad day?” He asks. She nods. He makes an affectionate tutting sound with his teeth, and then steps behind her chair, casting levitate and guiding her chair into the hall. She silently thanks the universe for giving her dad the day off, and focuses her attention on breathing.
“Did you take your meds?” He asks as she floats into the kitchen. He steps away to start making some tea, shuffling his work books and files to make room on the cluttered table.
“Yeah,” She says, glancing through an open file about some necromantic cult in Neverwinter. Her dad whisks it away, giving her a teasing glare.
“Not for you pumpkin,” he says and she laughs.
“Don’t leave your work on the table if you don’t want me reading it.”
“Maybe you just need to stop snooping so much,” He sticks his tongue and she returns the gesture. They laugh a little, and then her dad’s eyes soften.
“Are you doing okay? Need me to call Grandpa?” She shakes her head in response.
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to be in pain if you don’t want to,” He reminds her. She nods.
“I know,” He presses a kiss to her forehead, and goes to finish making the tea. He hums while he moves around the kitchen, locating two mugs in the chaos and pouring hot water into both. He sets the mug in front of her, and sits down next to her, pulling a file towards him to look over. She reads over his shoulder, resting her chin on her hand.
“You message your professors?” He comments. She nods.
“My boss too,” She says. He hums in response, and flips a page, summoning a quil to scribble down a note in the margin.
“How’s uh, Fitz was it?”
“Fitzroy,” she corrects gently. “He’s fine, offered to go on a stroll with me,”
“Sounds like a sweet guy,” he grins. “You like him?”
“Shut up dad,” Rainer says archly, and sips at her tea.
“Aha,” he says, poking her cheek gently. “So you do like him,”
“He’s nice,” she admits, and runs her fingertips over the rim of her mug.
“So long as he treats you right,” her dad says, taking her hand in his and continuing to read his paperwork.
Rainer treasures her relationship with her parents. They’re supportive as hell, and know what lines aren’t okay to cross when they’re teasing. Her family as a unit is wonderful, communicative. She can’t ask for better parents. On really bad days, she feels like a burden for her disability, but her parents are pretty good at sweeping that insecurity away with movies and films and board games until she feels better.
She’s always been able to talk to her parents about anything, and although when she was in high school there were a few years of difficulty between them, she grew out of it quickly. Spending an awful lot of time with her uncles helped, especially when they decided that cooking was a good outlet for her.
She’s surrounded by people who love her. People who have supported her throughout her life, and continue to support her. People who tell her she’s strong without it sounding like pity. People who tell her that she’s brave, through unspoken actions that speak volumes. Rainer has so much that so many do not.
And yet.
There are some days where she wants her feet to feel sore after hours of practice, not an hour of standing. Days where she misses the feel of the bar under her hand and spends hours listening to classical music. Days where she longs to feel the spandex leotard against her skin soaked in sweat, to feel her chest rise and fall with labored breath after a performance, the heat of the stage lights on her face. Days where she feels crushed with failure and regret and guilt.
Today hasn’t been one of those days, not really. She runs her fingers over the blanket again. She hasn’t thought about dance in a few weeks, hasn’t really found herself missing the routine of it. She suspects that’s because Fitzroy has been actively distracting her, whether on purpose or unconsciously, and today is the first day in a long time that the pain has been bad enough to keep her at home.
Her hip spikes with pain, and she squeezes her dad’s hand in her’s. He sets his free arm around her shoulders, and gently nudges her head with his. She takes a long deep breath with him, and relaxes slightly as she exhales.
“Doing great,” He says softly, and she nods, holding his hand tight and digging her nails into the blanket. He finishes writing something, and then sets the pen down. “Wanna lie down for a bit?” He asks. She nods, closing her eyes as a dull ache settles into her hip, and lets him push her back down the hall.
He lifts her up carefully and helps her into her bed, tucking the blanket around her and dimming the lights. He drops a kiss on her forehead, and sets her Notebook on the nightstand.
“Ping me if you need something,” He says. She nods, and he leaves. She closes her eyes, allowing her face to scrunch up with pain, and then breathes. Slowly, she manages to drift off, and find a peaceful dark to float in.