Here Goes Nothing... PV Ruthie Greer Closed

After the trauma, what she wanted the most was a sense of normal. But after everything that had happened that fateful night, things had been anything but normal. She woke up in the middle of the night in a sweat after revisiting giants in her dreams. Her homework had suffered and she'd been avoiding Jorah, well aware that his near death had been entirely her fault. She hadn't talked to Dymph either. She'd been skipping meals and she was pretty sure she'd lost weight.

So when Lark's letter appeared asking her to meet her on the Quidditch training pitch, Ruthie was glad. Quidditch was normal. Quidditch was life. Coming back to Quidditch was a way--maybe the only way--to get close to normal. Besides, Lark was a nice girl and she'd gotten to know her better in the days that followed the ball horrors. Ruthie wanted her to do well in matches, now that she'd joined the best team at Hogwarts. From what she'd seen, Lark had some natural ability, but it made sense if she was nervous or unsure. Ru recalled how the nerves had gotten to her before her first match.

She dressed in her blue and silver Quidditch sweater and khaki breeches before grabbing her Comet to head out to the pitch to meet Lark. When she arrived, she found her classmate was already there, eyeing the three golden hoops at the end of the pitch. Probably still in shock her got the role, Ruthie imagined. "Hey Lark," Ru said as she walked over to her, the only person on the pitch, "Want some practice?" She figured that was what she'd been called over for. As a Chaser, she would be able to practice with Lark, throwing some curve balls into the hoops.

"Congratulations on Reserve Keeper!" she added as she reached over to give the girl a hug. To be honest, it was a somewhat awkward hug. Part of it was genuinely happy, wanting to congratulate her friend, just as she had said. But it also was a kind of desperate reach for human connection. People had stepped up during the ball. She had people. But she'd hurt those people. Not intentionally, but still. And now she'd pushed them away, which did not mesh well with her naturally extroverted ways. Even though Lark was a new friend, Ruthie was glad to see her. Glad she was alive, despite going unconscious the night of. Speaking of which, her date, Dale, had similarly been fighting giants. Maybe Lark was traumatized too.

When she let go, she was able to take in some of the details of her companion. "Nice broom, we match," she said acknowledging their Comets. It was a good choice for a starter broom and Ru was excited to use it in the match against Slytherin. But her broom wasn't the only thing that was new. When Ruthie had first encountered Lark at the dress swap, she'd been sporting a beautiful blue hue to her locks and in fact, she'd been that way every time she'd seen her. But today, her hair was a reddish blonde kind of color. "Did you dye your hair? It looks nice," Ru offered with a smile. Her mum would never let her dye her hair. It hadn't come up, but that's what she thought would happen. She wrapped her hand firmly around her broom handle, thankful for this invite. Maybe it could be something close to normal.

Tag: @Lark Flaer

»»————-　✼ @Ruthie Greer ✼ 　————-««

Taking in the pitch had gone from overwhelming to exciting. The longer she stood in the shadow of the stands and the few rays of winter sun glinting off of the hoops started to make her feel a sense of ease. Belonging. She had been so worried about her friends and fitting in... nervous that they were only around her until something better came along but here. It felt different. The chance to be part of a team. Something she had never considered before...

"Hey Lark," Her head turned and eyes squinted to see Ruthie making her way over. Lark gave a wave as the fellow Ravenclaw joined her. "Want some practice?"

"Might as well! Gotta work out all those jitters." Lark gave a slightly nervous laugh. She wasn't kidding... thinking about being on the pitch versus being up in the sky, back to those hoops was another story. She knew she could think about it and feel confident all she wanted but it would mean nothing until she could get up there and give it a proper go.

As Ruthie went in for a hug, Lark grinned at the congratulations. "It's all thanks ta you!" She squeezed Ruthie tight for a moment glad for some friendly interaction. The ball had put a real kink in things between her and her group of friends. Mostly James and Charlotte.. Mostly James. They were close but she was worried about him pulling away from their friendship after all the chaos. He had just gotten past a lot of what Logan had said to him earlier in the year about the Wizarding Wars... and they had all assured James things were alright.. then BAM giants and fire.

"Nice broom, we match." Lark peered down at the broom in her hand and then back to Ruthie. "Thank goodness.. I was sort ah worried.. my parents just sent it ta me after I owl'd them about possibly joinin' the team." Lark rubbed the back of her neck a bit embarrassed. "They got a bit excited." She gave a chuckle thinking of how her father most likely rushed right out and purchased a broom as quick as he could... probably some Ravenclaw pride items as well. A wistful smile spread across the young girl's face as a bit of homesickness found its way into her thoughts.

"Did you dye your hair? It looks nice." Blinking, Lark felt caught off guard for a moment, forgetting her current predicament in thoughts of her parents. "Oh! Right... about that.." How should she explain this? It wasn't like Ruthie would be shocked, right? She was at Hogwarts so strange magical things couldn't be that strange sounding... right?? Most of the time she had been hiding it after the ball, tossing her hair up into various hats she had begged her Gran to send, sure she had gone on a knitting spree just for the occasion.

"I guess it happened durin' the ball actually." She didn't really remember passing out... but somehow it had happened. The last thing she remember was finding Dale and trying to leave with him. Everything past that was more a feeling, rush of emotions, not actual images that she could playback in her mind. "I just remember wakin' up in the Hospital Wing, James sort of there starin' at me. Said I looked different an' well.. I guess it's something called Metamorphmagus." The word still felt unfamiliar on her tongue. "I had ta write ta my Pa about it. Told me it is from his side of the family. They change their appearance n' such." Lark felt bad bringing up the Ball again, especially to Ruthie who had gone through so much. She didn't want to ignite any bad feelings for her new friend. She just wasn't sure how else to really explain.. or where to start. "Been readin' up on it." Lark added quickly wanting to change the subject as to not upset Ruthie.

"I wish it was dye. Probably would be easier to change back... I don't know how long I'm gonna be stuck like this." Lark groaned feeling frustrated not fully understanding this new part of her. "Although if it means learnin' ta give myself a pig snout ta scare off anyone from the goal well then so be it!" She nudged at Ruthie with her elbow and grinned. "Just as long as I don't get a squiggly tail along with it."

Lark studied Ruthie's face hoping the lighthearted joke would be enough to wash away any awkwardness about the ball for now. They were here for Quidditch and the little Lark did know about Ruthie so far was that she enjoyed the game. If it helped her then Lark would take advantage of the practice but most of all relieving some of the stress her friend might be dealing with.

Work out those jitters, Lark said. Ruthie was familiar with that nervous feeling. It usually crept up before a match and she expected it would creep up before Slytherin. The rumors of their super human beater, Erin Ryan, was enough to make anyone wince. Best not to scare Lark with those stories now. "Great, let's get a quaffle," Ruthie said as she started to walk across the training pitch to the side, where a set of the balls were left on the side of the railing. She hoped Lark would follow she didn't have to yell. She'd yelled enough the night of the ball.

Lark hugged her tightly. Ruthie was taken aback at first, but then then reciprocated. It felt good to hold another human--to fell connected to another human, who was living, breathing and without a knife in their back or a spear in their front. As she heard Lark's expression of gratitude, Ruthie felt the need to correct her: "I just made a suggestion. You did the work at the try out." It wasn't Ruthie's decision, but she was glad Emma and Neculai had seen what Lark could do. Plus, now that she was on the team, she would be under Dymph's tutelage and there would be no greater teacher. "Wait til you get to work with Dymph. She'll make sure you're a great Keeper!" Ruthie said smiling. The older Irish girl had become nothing short of an older sister figure to the Scottish girl and she was certain she would do the same for Lark.

Lark's parents had gotten her a broom. "That's nice of them," she said, curtly. She wasn't usually bothered by it, but it was in moments like this where Ruthie felt acutely aware of her working class background. It had all worked out of course, with her winning this Comet 180. But still, some people could just send a letter and get a broom. Send a letter and get a suit that you look wonderful in. Send a letter and get whatever. Sending a letter sure seemed like a magical lifeline for other people.

Lark seemed uncertain, however, when Ru asked about her hair. It was weird. If only her mother would let her do that. It would be so fun. Ruthie was imagining what colors she might pick in the alternate universe where she'd be allowed to do that, when Lark mentioned it start at the ball. And at that, the color left the 11 year old's face faster than you could say 'Quidditch.' And then she went on to describe the hospital wing, the one part of the castle that Ruthie hated with absolute passion. It was a home for tragedy. She mentioned someone called James, who Ruthie didn't know, and eventually settled on the word 'Metamorphmagus.' "Change your appearance?" the blonde asked, "So one day you can just walk in looking like Celestina Warbeck? " Imagining that was entertaining--the big hair and the feather boa would certainly surprise Slytherin.

"A pig snout!" Ruthie laughed. As much as Lark made this ability seem like an inconvenience, to the Scottish girl it seemed pretty cool. "Animals too?" she queried, wondering if she could sprout wings. That seemed like a good goal--a kind of natural flight. She felt Lark nudge her with her elbow. This was a lot of human contact, but it was good.

And that was why as she picked up the quaffle, feeling its strong leather fibers, she felt the need to exchange: a secret for a secret. "Can I tell you something?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically. Lark hadn't meant to, she was sure, but the mentions of the ball had gotten to the young Ravenclaw. She was still sensitive about it and worried she always would be. She looked down at the ball in her hands, the one normal thing she'd touch recently. "I haven't slept through the night since the ball," she admitted, "I see giants and blood, and hear screaming in my dreams. And I see them. I see him on floor..." She hit the ball hard against the grass, and watched it bounce towards Lark. She'd never verbalized it before--her guilt over the whole thing--and she didn't really know why she did it now, and not very well. Hopefully, it wouldn't freak Lark out too much. After all, Ruthie had a reputation for being cheery and enthusiastic, but since the ball, she'd felt anything but that.

Tag: @Lark Flaer

»»————-　✼ @Ruthie Greer ✼ 　————-««

Lark was still internally giggling over Ruthie bringing up Celestina Warbeck. That really would be something! If only it would give her the witch's voice as well. Belting out a couple songs as the opposing team tried to score might for sure throw them off.

"Animals too?"

Giving a nod, Lark tugged at her khakis. "Yeah, features an' all sorts of things I guess. You'll probably have to suffer through me practicing all sorts ah' transformations." She couldn't help but grin thinking of the possibility of the two getting to spend some more time together.

The smile on Lark's face faded to concern as she watched Ruthie closely. It felt like there was a shift in the girl's mood. She wasn't sure if it was just her though... after the ball Lark had been struggling with her emotions and moods. One minute she would feel fine then the next angry, or worse a bit numb to everything around her. It had caused her to not be able to remember most of her classes, sort of just auto piloting through much of the day.

"Can I tell you something?"

Lark watched Ruthie carefully as the girl stared down at the Quaffle in her hands. 'Oh no..' Her mention of the ball had upset Ruthie, making her instantly feel guilty. She always mucked things up with people... A small ball of anxiety formed in the pit of her stomach. As Ruthie spoke, Lark's breathing slowed... She had her own issues from the ball but nothing like Ruthie had suffered.. Dale hadn't been stolen from her nor beat up in front of her very eyes. Lark couldn't imagine what sort of emotions were blazing through her fellow Ravenclaw.

"--I see him on floor..."

The ball slamming against the ground make Lark flinch slightly, not out of fear but pain at realizing just how hurt Ruthie was. Lark's heart clenched as she recalled her own images of Jorah and Ruthie from the night of the ball. The smell of smoke and screaming.. Her golden eyes shifted color to a darker blue color as she stared down at the Quaffle resting at her feet. She couldn't bring herself to meet Ruthie's gaze. Lark had been ashamed at not getting to help more during the ball, having been knocked out.. and only a first year. She didn't get to help at all.. and ended up just being more of a burden to those around her as well as her friends.

Slowly Lark bent down and picked up the ball, sucking in a small breath. "I see it too." She wasn't too sure what to really say to help Ruthie.. there was most likely little she could say to comfort her friend. This was all new territory for her. Friends, the ball, almost dying, run ins with Giants, trauma. Her life had been quite sheltered and shut in thanks for her parents. Now she was struggling to deal with her own emotions while desperately wanting to help her friends with their own.

"Have you talked to Jorah... about everything?" Lark finally looked up to Ruthie, wanting to step closer to the girl and comfort her but not wanting to scare her away. Truthfully, Lark hadn't even spoken to her own friends nor Dale about what had happened. At least not in full... it was something discussed more in terms of "yeah it was awful" and nothing beyond that or too deep into the realm of the damage the ball had dealt to them all.

It was easier to deal with someone else's problems. Although, if she really thought about it, Lark's state as a Metamorph wasn't entirely a problem. Although annoying, there were facets of it that sounded really cool. Even if it wasn't a whole animal, features sounded like something wildly entertaining, not to mention exceptionally useful at parties. There was a time not that long ago that Ruthie really enjoyed parties. She hoped that time would return, but somehow she knew it wasn't in her immediate future.

But as she began to reveal the truth about her sleepless nights, she could feel Lark's eyes on her. It was unsettling like a school teacher's lingering glare after you'd spoken too much for too long. Except she hadn't said very much at all--at least, not yet. But there was time yet.

Her stomach began to curl up into knots and her breathing quickened as she recalled that fateful night and the boy--the boy she brought, the boy had once saved but couldn't yet, the boy she cared for--on the floor. It was an image she feared would be seared into her mind forever. Most people didn't have to worry about being responsible for some else's wellbeing until they were a parent. But Ruthie did. She felt responsible. She was responsible. And she hated herself for it.

As her voice trailed off, she noticed Lark had reached down to pick up the ball she had so lackadaisically thrown to the ground like an old toy, not an instrument of such a revered game as Quidditch. And that was the moment when her fellow Ravenclaw provided a great moment of insight--she saw it too. Eyes wide, Ruthie could hardly believe it. “You do?” she asked, peering. She hadn't really given any serious thought to what Lark's memory of the ball was. Ruthie didn't even recall really seeing her except for a fleeting moment here and there. But regardless of her experience, if she was haunted too, there was hope. Maybe, just maybe, the young Scottish girl wasn't crazy. She didn't directly act on it, but that five word exchange ignited a shift in how she saw Lark. She'd always liked her--otherwise, she would not have encouraged her in Quidditch--but now that honesty had instilled a level of respect. They were equal, and more than that Ruthie was no longer alone.

Just as her breath started to slow with this new revelation of empathy, Lark brought up the obvious person who was in this conversation despite not being present: Jorah. Ru had alluded to him in her earlier comments, but there was something about hearing Lark actually say his name that made her spine shiver. Biting her lip, she could tell Lark was choosing her words carefully, but that kind of care had never exactly been in the blonde's repertoire. “No, not since the hospital wing. I think I’ve been avoiding him…” she admitted. It wasn't the easiest thing to say. She justified it to herself by claiming she needed to work on Defense Against the Dark Arts (what with giants roaming around), but the truth was she couldn't bring herself to be around him without pain.

And the pain was large, really large. She'd never really gotten the chance to express it, but now that Lark had opened that door, the words just came stammering out as the color started to drain from her face: “I—I—I nearly killed him, Lark, I nearly killed him. He didn’t even want to go this stupid dance. I pushed him. I pushed him, and he ended up with a knife in his back, after a giant assaulted him. A knife punctured his lung, and it’s all my fault.” As she stood there, she felt her knees wobble like she'd been unseated by a bludger. The water in tear ducts had started welling up and she raised her right wrist to whip away the incoming tears. She wasn't naturally a crier. In fact, some people might argue she didn't show enough emotion. But the stress of the ball and all the escapades therein just made her body crumble into itself like a scared hedgehog retreating into its safe hole in the ground.

It was at least 10 seconds before realized that she was till stood in front of Lark, whose company she enjoyed, but she didn't know particularly well. What a sight for her housemate to witness when all she wanted some practice. Ruthie looked up and across at her, eyes still slightly red. She thought back to earlier as she considered the impression she had just made. With a slightly weaker voice, she asked, “Any chance you can transform other people? Because I hate feeling this way.” It was a half a joke to alleviate tension and half a very real request. But even if she continued avoiding Jorah and continued to experience night terrors, at least now there was someone she could talk to about it. That was worth an extra practice.

Tag: @Lark Flaer

»»————-　✼ @Ruthie Greer ✼ 　————-««

There was a tight.. almost closed off and deafening type silence that separated the two girls after Ruthie had admitted to avoiding Jorah. Lark wrapped the quaffle in her arms, her thoughts feeling deflated inside of her skull. This was all new territory for her. A viscious ache formed in the pit of her stomach, slowly at first but was starting to spread into her chest, constricting her lungs. She wanted to reach out to her new friend, comfort her in some way. Growing up, Lark had been secluded. Her life basically whatever her parents built it to be. She had never known pain like this and in a way that hurt almost as much as Lark assumed Ruthie felt.

Helpless.

It was an odd numbing feeling. Almost suffocating. A pressure forcing the air from her chest slowly as she bit the edge of her lower lip. Either way Lark knew that if Ruthie held all this in it would tear her apart. She didn't want that for her, not for any of her friends. There was something that drew her into this other blonde haired girl. Something that danced around her and resonated with Lark's own aura, or soul, whatever the two believed in. Lark was able to finally bring herself to part her lips enough for words to form when Ruthie burst out-

“I—I—I nearly killed him--"

Lark blinked, her eyes raising to Ruthie. A wall still between the two, invisible but thicker than the ones of the castle behind them. Another pang of ache stabbed at Lark's chest. 'Oh Ru...' No wonder Ruthie had been so withdrawn. She blamed herself! The young girl's brows knitted together and she moved the quaffle to her hip, continuing to listen to Ruthie vent.

"-- and it’s all my fault.”

As Ruthie finished, wiping at her eyes, Lark took in a deep breath as she processed all that had been said. It may not have been a long one but that made it all the more painful sounding. Lark hadn't been conscious for a good portion of the chaotic ending to the ball so she hadn't known what had happened between Ruthie and Jorah.. only what she heard in passing from others and their own experience. Yet, at the start of it all she had caught sight of the two and remembered watching them wistfully for a moment as she passed them on her way to meet Dale. Not that anyone deserved to be attacked... but of all the people...

Still unsure what to say, Lark kept her thoughts to herself in case Ruthie needed to say more. She didn't want to scare her away or interrupt her stream of thoughts if it meant Ru getting the venom from her thoughts. She took a moment to bend down and place the quaffle at her feet once more.

“Any chance you can transform other people? Because I hate feeling this way.”

There was only one thing she really knew about with comforting people... not from her doing it but from her mother. It was something she always did when Lark was spinning out of control. Stepping forward, Lark cut off the space between the two of them and pulled Ruthie in for a hug. She hoped it would help, normally it instantly made her feel better when her mother did it. Even if it meant more tears would be spilled, maybe it would help. She could only hope.

Squeezing gently trying to reassure her friend, Lark swallowed the lump in her throat. "There's nothing that needs changing." The girl's voice was soft, barely above a whisper as if she were telling her friend a secret, just between the two of them. Lark held on for a minute more, if Ruthie didn't pull away after too long, before taking a step back, her hand still placed softly on the side of Ruthie's left shoulder.

"I don't know Jorah but..." Lark let out a short breath before continuing. "I doubt he blames you at all. I only saw it quick in passin' but.. the way he looked at you did not read like he would've wanted ta be anywhere else that night." Taking her hand back, Lark locked her arms behind her back. "None of us could do much. It wasn't your fault." In all honesty a small piece of Lark was angry at the Professors fer not catching on sooner... but... "-even the Professor's were caught off guard, Ru." Lark wet her lips.

"No one expected that ta happen.. Even with Jorah's-" Her voice trailed off for a second. "What happened ta him was nothin' you could have prevented. We're only first years an' they were giants or.. whatever they were." Lark still wasn't positive as she had only seen them from across the room before being knocked out.

It wasn't the intention, but there was something oddly relieving about venting to Lark. It was like the burden she'd been carrying on her shoulder since the night in question had released into the cold Scottish air. Fleeting, she hoped these fears and guilty feelings would find a home on a remote island--perhaps St. Kilda, alone amongst the undisturbed wildlife. St. Kilda might even be a good refuge for the 1st year herself for if there was no one around, she could do no damage to anyone. If only she could apparate.

Maybe it wasn't so great a shift, but things did move as she felt herself fall into the metamorphagus' arms. She felt a tight squeeze around her body and her muscles seemed to relax almost instantly. Hugs were always a great remedy, but there was something about Lark's hug--how genuine and authentic it was--that forged a strong connection between the two girls. After all, it was not, Ruthie could tell, a hug born out of pity or even helplessness, but rather the reality that here stood two girls broken by recent events. Broken, yes, but committed to helping one another. So, there they stood, as Lark whispered something soft and low: the notion that nothing needed changing. Ru's eyebrow lifted. It seemed like such a perplexing concept. Clearly, everything needed changing. But she was far too upset to criticize.

When they parted, she could still feel Lark's hand on her shoulder. Ruthie smiled across at her friend. Simple gestures meant a great deal these days. She listened avidly to Lark's explanation of past events and she did perhaps the most important thing: she said it wasn't her fault. It wasn't quite forgiveness, but it was a relief of guilt she desperately needed. "Yeah," she acknowledged, "Professor Galim was pretty quick to react. Although, I think one of those shoes she threw knocked you out, right? I didn't see it, but I heard..." For a second, her heart sunk back in her chest. What happened to Jorah was dreadful enough, but she was so occupied with that she hadn't even dealt with the rest of her friends. She abandoned Dymph for Merlin's sake. The whole thing had been bad, really.

But Lark was more reasonable that Ruthie. She had been able to see that the events that unfolded were not preventable. "Half-giants, I think," Ruthie corrected based on the rumors, "but yeah, basically giants." They were huge. She knew it better than anyone considering these beings now haunted her dreams. Maybe Lark was lucky she hadn't seen them. You couldn't be afraid of something you didn't see. Hopefully, with time, she'd be less afraid. Lark's hug was a good start towards that end.

As Ruthie bent down to pick up the quaffle, she considered Lark's earlier words: the way he looked at you. She tried to think back to the moment she came down the stairwell or at the table when he placed a flower behind her ear. He had been looking, yes, but they were talking. It was natural to hold eye contact. "What did you mean earlier? I don't think Jorah was looking at me any particular way. He got a bit tongue-tied, called me 'britty,' but I think he was just nervous. Balls aren't really his thing." Maybe she was stupid, not noticing what to others might seem obvious, but to her, Jorah was her best friend and that was all. He was great in so, so many ways, special even. But it wasn't a date or anything; it was just a logical, convenient alternative to going alone.

With the quaffle back in her hand, she was eager to get into the real reason they were here: practice. She'd never trained a Keeper before or anyone, but she could try. "We should probably start with some laps around the pitch," she begin, curling her fingers around the edge of the ball, "but what you probably need to work on most is gripping the quaffle. Blocking is the goal, but if you can catch it, that'd be best because then you can throw it back to one of us. Try to grip it at the crevices." And with that, she threw the ball across at Lark, gentle at first, but knowing she'd have a curveball or two up her sleeve. They could go back and forth for a bit before a few quick laps and then the real practice would begin.

Interacting with @Lark Flaer

»»————-　✼ @Ruthie Greer ✼ 　————-««

At the mention of the blasted shoe that knocked her out, Lark's fingers rose to exact spot. A sore reminder... Even still, a small laugh parted the girl's lips. "Yeah... sort of stinks. I didn't even get a dance with Dale.." Lark's voice trailed off. She still wasn't sure if they had merely gone as friends or not. Why did boys have to be so hard to understand and come with a whole heap of emotions.

"Half-giants, I think-" Her friend's voice drew her back to the pitch and current conversation, away from the memory of Dale looking handsome in his suit.. "R..right." Lark's nose wrinkled. She still wasn't sure how they had managed to slip into the castle.. although they must've appeared close enough in age to the older students. Lark had never seen a Half-Giant before, at least that she knew of. To her with her stature most of her peers were taller than her as it was.

"Britty?" Lark tried to hold back a snort. "Tongue tied alright." She grinned as Ruthie grabbed hold of the Quaffle once more. "I just mean well.." She thought for a moment of how best to describe it. Jorah hadn't the same look on his face as Dale had, there was something more behind his eyes. "He just sort of..." Ugh, how could she explain this? Lark couldn't even figure out her own emotions and feelings that involved boys... especially within the last couple months. Maybe she had just read into it but from all her reading of stories about princesses and princes... grand meetings of two lovers, how they reacted... it had built up this wondrous ideal in the young girl's heart. "He just looked so happy." Lark finished her thought. Perhaps it was best to just handle one thing at a time between the two of them. Boys was a whole other matter compared to the Ball.

"We should probably start with some laps around the pitch,"

Lark turned her attention to Ruthie and gave a determined nod. "True!" Her legs already seemed to be anxious for movement, tingling at the thought of kicking off from the ground. She listened closely to Ruthie's words, soaking it all in. She hadn't the first clue about how to play Quidditch and only watched one match with her father when her mother had been away from home for a week. The knowledge had set her parents on edge with one another, Lark wasn't sure why, something about her having gone out into public... which she now considered was linked to this whole Metamorphmagus thing.

Another tingle, this time in the girl's palms as she felt a shift in Ruthie's posture. Instinct took over as Lark rose her hands to meet the Quaffle, almost fumbling it but grasping the edges firm as instructed. The smack of leather against her skin felt oddly satisfying and made a smile spread across her face.

"Alright! Catch it is!" Lark tossed the leather ball back to Ruthie. This was going to be a great practice! Stretching her fingers slightly, Lark held up her hands at the ready.

"Thanks for agreeing ta help me by the way.." She felt her cheeks turn red. "I sort of never expected ta join up. Honestly, I had just gotten used ta flyin' thanks ta my-uh.. friend." Lark thought back to flying class with James. It was really thanks to his encouragement she even could be considered by Ruthie for this spot.

Ruthie felt bad for ignoring Lark when she mentioned she didn't even get to dance with the boy before the shoe knocked her out. Clearly, they had been on a 'date' or something like it, unlike her and Jorah, who'd chosen to go as friends. From the way Lark's voice trailed off, Ru could tell she was hurting. It looked like they were both guilty over their boys. "I’m sorry you didn’t even get a dance," she began, "I don’t know him but Dale seems a decent fellow. I heard he chased after you to the hospital wing." There were a lot of rumors that flew around in the aftermath of the ball, but Dale trailing after Lark was one of the good ones. She deserved friends who chased after her; Lark was a great person as this whole practice was bringing to light.

Ruthie noted Lark's obvious wrinkle at the notion of giants. Ruthie could still picture them, especially the one that trying to kidnap Jorah. "They were horrible. I narrowly escaped getting slapped by the one that tried to kidnap Jorah, not that a slap is anything compared to everything else," she mused, "But really, the worst thing was that rogue student..." Ruthie could feel the blood flowing faster through her veins. If she ever came across that bright red-headed girl with the pocket knife, she was certain all hell would break loose.

But what she was most focused on was Lark's explanation of how she observed Jorah at the Ball. The solicited information proved rather interesting. Ruthie's eye brows lifted at the confirmation that Jorah was tongue-tied. She suspected there was subtext, especially with the time Lark seemed to be taking getting the words out, but she didn't know what it was. But then the revelation dropped: "He just looked so happy." It wasn't what she had expected since she'd only come to associate the night with horror, not joy. Cocking her head to the side, she thought about it. She remembered how smart he looked, how he smiled, how he almost seemed to glow. "He did, didn't he?" She said calmly and clearly. It was phrased as a question because it was more polite, but in reality, it was a fact. He did look happy before everything went wrong, really happy, even though the entire concept of a ball might have put him off. And she thought of him, a smile came upon her own face as natural as the sun.

Lark seemed enthusiastic for laps and catch, pretty much anything for practice. And before the ball even left her hands, Lark was thanking again for meeting up. "Of course!" Ru chirped eagerly, happy to be bringing on a worthy new recruit. She hoped Lark wasn't too intimated by standing in Dymph's shadow. Hearing she'd only really tried flying at class took Ru by surprise as Lark had shown such command of her broom at try-outs. "So you haven't much experience of Quidditch then?" she asked somewhat rhetorically. "I only went to matches before joining the team myself. You'll be great!" she reaffirmed reaching for her Comet, "Looks like you're getting a good grip there. Time for laps?" She was eager to get Lark out in front of the goal posts. The fundamentals were important, but nothing replaced time in front of the hoops themselves.

Interacting with @Lark Flaer