13 Oct 2020, 02:06
Flying Without Wings
Private Roleplay between Anastasia Beckett and @Reid Kovacs
Date: 12 October 2020
Time:7:45 a.m.
Anastasia loathed these new rules with a passion. Flying was the only time that she could really clear her mind, and with curfew extending until seven, she had far less time to do so than she would have liked. That day, in particular, she needed to fly. She had been dreading it for weeks and it was finally here. They were to cover boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she wasn't even remotely ready. Last year, she had been completely certain that it would take some form of disappointing her parents, most likely them disowning her. Then, that had actually happened, as well as things that blew up her world even more. She had a vague idea of what to expect, but no clarity, and that concerned her. She had worked so hard to keep her family situation fairly under wraps, mainly by isolating herself as much as possible. That was all for naught if things were flung into the open that day. She wasn't someone who was afraid of much, but she was terrified of this class.
What the hell was even the point of covering boggarts? All of her many properties were cleaned out with enough regularity that she was reasonably confident that she wouldn't encounter one outside of Hogwarts. Generally, there was a reason that something was someone's greatest fear, and forcing them to laugh at it didn't make things better. If something was her greatest fear, it had become so over several years and an afternoon of having to laugh at it was probably going to do little more than traumatize her.
She whizzed around the pitch, literally with the wind in her hair. She had heard some Muggle sports be compared to flying and it seemed to her that there was absolutely nothing in the world better than it. Obviously, she was a Quidditch fiend, by birth as much by choice, but simply flying itself was something that never failed to make her feel better no matter what was going on.
The sun had finished rising, meaning it was probably nearly eight. She had darted out of the Common Room at seven and gone straight to the Pitch, which meant that she was going to need to eat and get changed into her school robes before getting to class. She began her descent, her loose ponytail whipping her face. She vastly preferred her flying robes to any other attire, simply because it meant she got to fly and avoid her intrusive thoughts. She landed with a sigh, her problems coming flooding back as her feet hit the ground.
Last edited by Anastasia Beckett on 11 Nov 2020, 00:49, edited 1 time in total.
Long story short, I survived
Stats - Strength: 5, Agility: 6, Control: 12, Stamina:7
14 Oct 2020, 15:22
Flying Without Wings
[font=PT Serif]The weeks following their victory over Durmstrang had him on cloud nine, he really only came in till the very end of the play and that was enough for him. His body was still sore in some cases though and he was getting what he dubbed; beater's elbow. Constant exertion of his dominant arm left him sore and sometimes unable to fully move it. The force of constantly hitting a bludger during practice put a stress on his elbow when his arm bowed and shot to meet the bludger halfway.
A projectile coming at him at an incredibly high speed and his arm coming to meet the object was rough. He didn't want to bother going to the nurse every time that he was discomforted, so he opted for muggle remedies. It was hard explaining to some of the students that he had something called an IcyHot patch on his arm. The brand was largely foreign to some of the more sheltered housemates he had, but it never inconvenienced him. If anything, it surprised him with how little they sometimes knew about these things. Reid had his practice items on, but typically he only had padding and workout clothes to avoid the fuss of putting on everything.
He was simply tending to his broom for now, it was new and he had to 'break' it like a pair of new shoes. So for today, he wouldn't be hitting the iron menaces much and instead working on flying. The beater's green eyes fixated on the foot hold and firmly placed the gloved hand on the shaft. He moved it a little before his dominant hand seized up a litte from the soreness he was still battling. The teen let out a heavy exhale and shook his head, stretching his arms over his head as he did so. After struggling a little, he realized his arm was a little out of commission and glanced around.
Upon seeing the crimson robes, he sharply inhaled and loudly asked, "You have a minute? I need to tighten something and I'm having trouble." His voice cut through the noise when she seemed like she was close enough to him, his gaze lingering on her answer. He was just sitting on the dewy morning grass with some equipment near him and a waterbottle. But he wasn't going to sit there struggling to tighten something like a fool in front of others, he just wanted this finished. A quick help from a stranger wouldn't be bad, but she did seem somewhat familiar, it was hard to tell with the distance they had between them. @Anastasia Beckett [/font]
A projectile coming at him at an incredibly high speed and his arm coming to meet the object was rough. He didn't want to bother going to the nurse every time that he was discomforted, so he opted for muggle remedies. It was hard explaining to some of the students that he had something called an IcyHot patch on his arm. The brand was largely foreign to some of the more sheltered housemates he had, but it never inconvenienced him. If anything, it surprised him with how little they sometimes knew about these things. Reid had his practice items on, but typically he only had padding and workout clothes to avoid the fuss of putting on everything.
He was simply tending to his broom for now, it was new and he had to 'break' it like a pair of new shoes. So for today, he wouldn't be hitting the iron menaces much and instead working on flying. The beater's green eyes fixated on the foot hold and firmly placed the gloved hand on the shaft. He moved it a little before his dominant hand seized up a litte from the soreness he was still battling. The teen let out a heavy exhale and shook his head, stretching his arms over his head as he did so. After struggling a little, he realized his arm was a little out of commission and glanced around.
Upon seeing the crimson robes, he sharply inhaled and loudly asked, "You have a minute? I need to tighten something and I'm having trouble." His voice cut through the noise when she seemed like she was close enough to him, his gaze lingering on her answer. He was just sitting on the dewy morning grass with some equipment near him and a waterbottle. But he wasn't going to sit there struggling to tighten something like a fool in front of others, he just wanted this finished. A quick help from a stranger wouldn't be bad, but she did seem somewhat familiar, it was hard to tell with the distance they had between them. @Anastasia Beckett [/font]
"Trouble usually finds me."
11 Nov 2020, 01:21
Flying Without Wings
@Reid Kovacs
Birds had no idea how good they had it. Being able to fly at any given time and never having to worry about the complications of being a person sounded marvelous to Ana, especially then. Granted, there were some small disadvantages such as not being able to drink coffee and a relatively short life span. Then again, humans were supposed to live far longer than her more had, so that latter bit meant very little to Ana. Not to mention, she had a penchant for losing people while they were alive. Out of all the ways she had experienced loss, death seemed by far the kindest. There was a finality about it, and it was the only way that didn't involve some sort of rejection from either party. Despite Ana's complicated relationship with her mother, she was still able to treasure the good parts. The same couldn't be said about her father. While he was alive, he was just as much lost to her as her mother was, if not more so. Some small, angry part of her almost wished that he was dead. Of course, anytime this thought crossed her mind, she felt immediately guilty, but thus far that guilt had failed to fully banish the notion.
The girl's dismal thoughts were interrupted by a voice and her head swiveled to determine the source. She was never one to complain about having something to focus on other than the absolute flaming trainwreck that was her life and this seemed as good a distraction as any. The speaker was a spectacularly attractive boy who looked around her age. She vaguely recognized him, not from anywhere specifically that she could think of. Then again, Hogwarts wasn't as big as it sometimes seemed, and seeing as he was at most a year or two above her, that made sense. If he was flying this early, he was most likely a Quidditch player, which would also lend itself to her at least having seen him before. She couldn't come up with a name though.
"Oh, certainly," she replied before walking over to the boy. She had to respect him at least a little for being so willing to ask for help from a complete stranger. Requesting help under any circumstances was not a strong point of Ana's, and she was far too prideful to ever request anything of a stranger. She was well aware it was a weakness, and yet she still was the kind of person who would obstinately muddle through things for a million years before getting assistance. Her dark eyes narrowed as she tried to ascertain what exactly he needed help with.
Her ponytail was loose enough at this point that it bounced with each step. As she reached him, she set her broom on the ground before kneeing near enough to him that she would be able to help with whatever it was he needed help with. "What's giving you trouble?" she asked, her voice friendly but sounding a bit less perky than she would have liked.
Long story short, I survived
Stats - Strength: 5, Agility: 6, Control: 12, Stamina:7