7 Jan 2020, 04:47
above the fray
The afternoon light made the Quidditch pitch a beautiful place, awash in golden hues, especially in the bitter Scottish winters, which made light and life feel all too rare. But for her part, Asteria could barely notice the beauty of the place.
Instead, her hands wrung the handle of her broom, fingers biting into unyielding wood. Most of her screamed to leave, just ditch the whole thing altogether. It was a fatal flaw of hers, this disdain for asking things of others. She hated asking for help, hated feeling like she wasn't able to figure something out on her own. Her own mind, her own talent, should be enough, right? It had always been before, in her eleven meager years of life.
(But it wasn't. That was the problem, that was why she was here. Hogwarts was strange like that. Every day seemed like it generated new ways for her to face her issues: personal, emotional, mental, whatever. The castle itself seemed like it wanted to make its inhabitants better, wanted to help them grow. Sure, she was suspicious of it. But you always had to be suspicious, just a little at least. But at the same time, she couldn't help but begin to grow fond of the strange old building, the way it seemed less like a threat and more like a home every day.)
Hufflepuff had won the last two Quidditch games, that was true. But not due to any help from her. She had let the Quaffle through, every time it came close to her. If she, if her team, was to do better in the future then she would have to do more than sit idly by, than just do the drills at practice. She would have to call in outside help. It was the worst sort of blow to her pride, but one she had decided that she could suffer.
Tamping her feet on the frozen grass, she sighed, continuing to worry her (school) broom with one hand and tugging at a loose strand of hair with the other. That Gryffindor chaser, Rafael, he had gotten shots past her. So she had owled him, asking if he would be up for some friendly practice - a way for both of them to improve. The whole of her being felt silly, felt like she was making a mountain out of a molehill in her panic over asking for help, in worrying over asking. She wasn't quite sure of how to judge him - letters could only tell so much, but he seemed nice enough.
Breath condensing into faint puffs, she waited, broom rolling between her hands, light washing over her. Soon enough, he would get here and practice would begin in earnest.@Rafael D'Spacito
Last edited by Asteria Kurokawa on 9 Jan 2020, 17:56, edited 1 time in total.
everybody crashes - you take a little damage, you'll spit a little blood, but we'll always manage love, cause everybody does
7 Jan 2020, 22:32
above the fray
@Asteria Kurokawa
[font=Segoe Print]Rafael still wasn’t very comfortable with his broom. Sure, he was adaptable when a ball was involved. He was generally good at any sport he tried, as long as it didn’t require a heavy use of logic. This, however, was mainly based on his heavy use of footwork. Up in the sky, you didn’t use your feet – and while he was a great shot, it was hard to get a lock on your target in the air, amidst a volley of teammates and rivals. Quidditch was a dangerous game, a definitely challenge to him. That being said, Rafa never shied away from a challenge. Perhaps that was why the game suited him.
It was still an open book to him, though, and he had a heaping amount of experience he had yet to catch up on. That was the main reason he had accepted Asteria’s owl – sure, he had gotten some scores in, but what did that mean? That he was lucky? Sure, he made one pretty solid goal, but any others he made were messy, wrong – it positively hurt him to see such a thing happen. He hadn’t realized it, but the whole Gryffindor v Hufflepuff Game had challenged him – challenged him to be a better player. Definitely not a simple challenge, but he had never been one to back down. On top of that, he always enjoyed meeting up with a fellow Quidditch Player. Even if they were on another team. He wasn’t sure if Asteria was new to the game or not, but one thing was for sure – she was a formidable rival. Turning down such an offer would be unwise.
So, here he was on the Quidditch Pitch, walking with sure steps, and a bright energy to him. At the moment, he was clad in his Gryffindor uniform, a school broom in his hand. A headband rested on his forehead, keeping his slightly unruly hair out of his eyes. His brown eyes were emergetic and determined, his lip bit between his teeth in thought. She’s gotta be out here somewhere, he pondered vaguely. A slight shiver went up his spine. It was a bit chilly outside, he noticed, it being January in England. The uniforms they wore weren’t the most fit for the cold, but it would have to do. Besides, the exercise would get his body temperature up anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal.
It wasn’t long before his eyes caught Asteria, a good ways into the Pitch. At the sight of the girl, he grinned broadly, waving at her with a smooth air. “Hey, Asteria!” he called. “Ready to lose?” It was a gentle, friendly prod – not the kind made in ill will, but the kind made between friends. Really, he was beginning to get quite excited about this training session. It was finally time to wreak revenge against Hufflepuff for their outrageous win.[/font]
[font=Segoe Print]Rafael still wasn’t very comfortable with his broom. Sure, he was adaptable when a ball was involved. He was generally good at any sport he tried, as long as it didn’t require a heavy use of logic. This, however, was mainly based on his heavy use of footwork. Up in the sky, you didn’t use your feet – and while he was a great shot, it was hard to get a lock on your target in the air, amidst a volley of teammates and rivals. Quidditch was a dangerous game, a definitely challenge to him. That being said, Rafa never shied away from a challenge. Perhaps that was why the game suited him.
It was still an open book to him, though, and he had a heaping amount of experience he had yet to catch up on. That was the main reason he had accepted Asteria’s owl – sure, he had gotten some scores in, but what did that mean? That he was lucky? Sure, he made one pretty solid goal, but any others he made were messy, wrong – it positively hurt him to see such a thing happen. He hadn’t realized it, but the whole Gryffindor v Hufflepuff Game had challenged him – challenged him to be a better player. Definitely not a simple challenge, but he had never been one to back down. On top of that, he always enjoyed meeting up with a fellow Quidditch Player. Even if they were on another team. He wasn’t sure if Asteria was new to the game or not, but one thing was for sure – she was a formidable rival. Turning down such an offer would be unwise.
So, here he was on the Quidditch Pitch, walking with sure steps, and a bright energy to him. At the moment, he was clad in his Gryffindor uniform, a school broom in his hand. A headband rested on his forehead, keeping his slightly unruly hair out of his eyes. His brown eyes were emergetic and determined, his lip bit between his teeth in thought. She’s gotta be out here somewhere, he pondered vaguely. A slight shiver went up his spine. It was a bit chilly outside, he noticed, it being January in England. The uniforms they wore weren’t the most fit for the cold, but it would have to do. Besides, the exercise would get his body temperature up anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal.
It wasn’t long before his eyes caught Asteria, a good ways into the Pitch. At the sight of the girl, he grinned broadly, waving at her with a smooth air. “Hey, Asteria!” he called. “Ready to lose?” It was a gentle, friendly prod – not the kind made in ill will, but the kind made between friends. Really, he was beginning to get quite excited about this training session. It was finally time to wreak revenge against Hufflepuff for their outrageous win.[/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
9 Jan 2020, 17:55
above the fray
Oh- there he was, striding towards her, broom in hand. "Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?" she called back, a joking tone present in her voice, as she prepared to pull herself onto her broom. This was the thing she like most about flight, those first few moments after your feet no longer rested on the ground, when the wind began to whip around you in earnest and the unease in your stomach hadn't quite settled yet. It gave an edge to things, made her see the world in sharper relief. Her worry became focused on the act of flight alone - no outside issues could creep in this singular crystalline moment.
Of all the things wizards had created, she could at least appreciate Quidditch. They had it right there. Of course, wizards in general had made a muck of other things, but flying? Flying felt easy, felt natural, or as close to natural as something like this could. When she was flying, all felt right with the world, and she wouldn't ever want to give that up, not for anything.
Broom now fully in the air, she hovered a few feet above the group, waiting for Rafael. "So how do you want to do this?" she asked, worrying the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. Now that she was more in the air, the wind bit through her uniform and her hair, at that awkward stage of growth where it refused to be able to be pulled back fully, found its way into her face more often than she'd like. Shrugging off the annoyance, she continued, trying to clarify her question. "Like, do you want me to just stay by the hoops the whole time and have you try to get passes by me? Or do you want to trade off? Or something else altogether?"
If she was being honest, she hadn't quite planned anything beyond this point. It had taken most of her will to simply work up the guts to ask someone to play against her, to admit that she could and should take improvement into her own hands. But he seemed nice enough. She was almost excited to see where the whole practice went. It would be good to get to know more Quidditch players - sure, she knew a handful from here and there, and there was always her team, but a new perspective? There was something exhilarating about that.@Rafael D'Spacito
everybody crashes - you take a little damage, you'll spit a little blood, but we'll always manage love, cause everybody does
11 Jan 2020, 04:03
above the fray
@Asteria Kurokawa
[font=Segoe Print]"Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?"
Asteria fired his own retort right back at him quite skillfully. It gave Rafa a burst of confidence, hearing that someone could keep up with him and his banter – too many people took his words offensively around here. It was a bit sickening, really, knowing that were very few people who understood his humor for what it really was – humor, and simply that. Perhaps he went about it in a rougher way, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. It was his Gryffindor nature, something that really couldn’t be changed. And he didn’t want to. He liked who he was, and anyone who disagreed had no hold over him. It was as his father said: ‘If they don’t know you personally, don’t take it personal.’ Those were words he lived by, running through his mind every day. They gave him a burst of confidence, just like Asteria was now, messing around with him.
Little did he know, the Hufflepuff Keeper had boarded her broom, already soaring into the air. It seemed as if he had dozed off again. His attention span was a bit lacking, after all. “Hey, wait for me!” he sputtered, gripping his broom with fervor and mounting it in one swift movement. It took no time at all before he kicked off, soaring through the air just as his rival. The sky really did put him at peace, he had learned a while back – it really didn’t matter that he was balancing himself on a rickety old broom. The broom always seemed to fall away, anyways, when he was in the sky. There was just something about it… perhaps the feeling of his feet not touching the ground, the height and view, or it could have been the experience as a whole. It really was freeing, being on a broom. The sort of feeling it gave him was incredibly hard to put into words – especially for an academically-challenged boy like himself. If anyone asked him, he would always answer with a facial expression. Dreamy, as if he were thinking about one of the most amazing things in the world.
The wind was blowing quite violently – Rafa was thankful that he was wearing his headband today. Otherwise, it would most likely be impossible to play such a sport. He steadied himself on his broom slightly, his eyes flying over to focus on Asteria. “So, how do you want to do this?” she asked him. “Like, do you want me to just stay by the hoops the whole time and have you try to get passes by me? Or do you want to trade off? Or something else altogether?"
Rafa had to think about her proposition for a moment. Sure, the practice they would really need was in their respective positions. That was what they were here for, anyways – right? On the other hand, though, the plays could get a bit redundant. He couldn’t speak for her, but the thought of trading positions once in a cycle definitely amused him. “How do you feel about trading off?” he asked, a thoughtful look on his face. “I mean, sure, it’s not very applicable, but why not have some fun? We’ve got time.” He shrugged, gripping his broom firmly. At least, he had time. He couldn’t speak for her, of course – everyone ran on different schedules nowadays, and it was better not to jump to conclusions. “Unless, you have places to be.” He was being careful not to tread on her toes – but, at the same time, his voice carried the same firm confidence it always did, showing no signs of weakness or discomfort. It was just his nature. That was something he would never compromise. Not for anyone.[/font]
[font=Segoe Print]"Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?"
Asteria fired his own retort right back at him quite skillfully. It gave Rafa a burst of confidence, hearing that someone could keep up with him and his banter – too many people took his words offensively around here. It was a bit sickening, really, knowing that were very few people who understood his humor for what it really was – humor, and simply that. Perhaps he went about it in a rougher way, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. It was his Gryffindor nature, something that really couldn’t be changed. And he didn’t want to. He liked who he was, and anyone who disagreed had no hold over him. It was as his father said: ‘If they don’t know you personally, don’t take it personal.’ Those were words he lived by, running through his mind every day. They gave him a burst of confidence, just like Asteria was now, messing around with him.
Little did he know, the Hufflepuff Keeper had boarded her broom, already soaring into the air. It seemed as if he had dozed off again. His attention span was a bit lacking, after all. “Hey, wait for me!” he sputtered, gripping his broom with fervor and mounting it in one swift movement. It took no time at all before he kicked off, soaring through the air just as his rival. The sky really did put him at peace, he had learned a while back – it really didn’t matter that he was balancing himself on a rickety old broom. The broom always seemed to fall away, anyways, when he was in the sky. There was just something about it… perhaps the feeling of his feet not touching the ground, the height and view, or it could have been the experience as a whole. It really was freeing, being on a broom. The sort of feeling it gave him was incredibly hard to put into words – especially for an academically-challenged boy like himself. If anyone asked him, he would always answer with a facial expression. Dreamy, as if he were thinking about one of the most amazing things in the world.
The wind was blowing quite violently – Rafa was thankful that he was wearing his headband today. Otherwise, it would most likely be impossible to play such a sport. He steadied himself on his broom slightly, his eyes flying over to focus on Asteria. “So, how do you want to do this?” she asked him. “Like, do you want me to just stay by the hoops the whole time and have you try to get passes by me? Or do you want to trade off? Or something else altogether?"
Rafa had to think about her proposition for a moment. Sure, the practice they would really need was in their respective positions. That was what they were here for, anyways – right? On the other hand, though, the plays could get a bit redundant. He couldn’t speak for her, but the thought of trading positions once in a cycle definitely amused him. “How do you feel about trading off?” he asked, a thoughtful look on his face. “I mean, sure, it’s not very applicable, but why not have some fun? We’ve got time.” He shrugged, gripping his broom firmly. At least, he had time. He couldn’t speak for her, of course – everyone ran on different schedules nowadays, and it was better not to jump to conclusions. “Unless, you have places to be.” He was being careful not to tread on her toes – but, at the same time, his voice carried the same firm confidence it always did, showing no signs of weakness or discomfort. It was just his nature. That was something he would never compromise. Not for anyone.[/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
13 Jan 2020, 14:43
above the fray
Watching him try to catch up to her made her almost laugh for a moment, the sheer enthusiasm he seemed to radiate from the core of his being when it came to flying. It made her glad; it seemed to her in that moment that she had made the right choice in a person to reach out to. At the very least, it would be enjoyable.
Tossing the Quaffle from hand to hand, she shrugged. "Trading off works for me." Inside, a fierce coil of joy was starting to rise within her, one that she attempted to conceal. The role of Keeper was one she enjoyed, sure, but she always grew wistful, watching the Chasers dart across the field. From her vantage point on high, she was forced to wait and watch, playing a cognitive game just as much as a physical game. It was stifling for her, a person made for action and reaction, who grew antsy after sitting still for even a short amount of time. So to get a chance to try the other side of the equation? She was elated.
She continued to speak, almost having to yell over the rush of the wind, while still idly playing with the Quaffle. "And I've got all the time in the world, y'know? Not like there's more important things to do." She wasn't lying here. For her, the first year workload wasn't the avalanche that later years promised to have so she always ended up with a plethora of free time. Free time which she generally spent wandering the grounds, poking her nose into various crevasses and gardens. If practice cut into her time to meander, then she wouldn't complain. In some ways, it was better, having a person to spend this time with, having an easy rapport, rather than having to sit in the stew that made up her thoughts.
"But... I do think that I'll take the first round as Keeper. Gotta warm up before I try and beat you at your own game, yeah?" And with that, she tossed the Quaffle at the Gryffindor boy, pulling up towards the now familiar goal posts. She was certain that he could catch it. After all, wasn't that part of his job description? From up on high, she surveyed the field, waiting for him to react, waiting for their practice to begin in earnest.
@Rafael D'Spacito
everybody crashes - you take a little damage, you'll spit a little blood, but we'll always manage love, cause everybody does
16 Jan 2020, 21:36
above the fray
@@Asteria Kurowaka
[font=Segoe Print]Keepers often severely underrated as Quidditch members, Rafa had often noticed. They didn’t see as much action as a chaser, generally didn’t have as much strength as a beater, and weren’t worshipped like the seeker. As a result, keepers often didn’t get the credit they deserved. However, unbeknownst to many, the role of the keeper was of the hardest in the game. Sure, I could be a bit of a dull position on occasion, all the waiting. If your team was good enough, you didn’t even see any action – but when the action finally did come their way, they certainly did impress. It wasn’t an easy task, guarding a wide range of goals on a broom. Hundreds of feet off the ground, at that. And Rafa would know – he’d tried it many a time, often during his personal practices. He’d quickly learned that, to his dismay, he was ruddy terrible at the whole thing, having nearly fallen off his broom more times than he could count, and ultimately failing to guard the goalpost as a whole. For this reason, the young Gryffindor held a healthy regard for the goal-guarding members of the Quidditch Teams. They were quite possibly of the most important members of the team.
And, in this case, Asteria was no different. He joked with her, sure, but he knew better than anyone that, once the game started, he’d better watch his ass. Because if she played half as good as she had during the Hufflepuff game, she were to be a formidable enemy on the field. Though, this didn’t stop him from messing around, as he always did – upon hearing the girl’s gentle prods,
a massive grin broke out of his face. He was beginning to like the Hufflepuff Keeper more and more as the moments wore on. She certainly made good company. “Say what you will,” he shot back at her, his eyes dancing with a mix of determination and amusement. “But, I think our playing will do the talking.”
He quickly caught the fly ball that Asteria so gracefully threw at him, gripping his broom with renewed fervor. With careful hands, he guided the broom away from the goals, to a comfortable distance, right beyond the scoring area. He tossed the ball between his hands for a moment, warming up his joints a bit, as he did before every game in the locker room, before finally gripping the ball with his left hand, his hand on the right. [He was ambidextrous, one of the strange quirks about him.] “You ready, then?” he yelled over the wind, his voice loud enough to be heard by a careful ear. “Or, you need more time?” Though it was a legitimate question, his words carried a bit of a mischievous edge, as if he were prodding at her once again. He’d certainly taken all the time he needed to warm up, but that wasn’t to say that the Hufflepuff hadn’t. A small act of kindness, he supposed, or perhaps one of courtesy. Whatever the case, he was ready to play – his senses steeled, and his teeth gritting just slightly, he gripped the broom ever tightly, ready to make the first move.
[/font]
[font=Segoe Print]Keepers often severely underrated as Quidditch members, Rafa had often noticed. They didn’t see as much action as a chaser, generally didn’t have as much strength as a beater, and weren’t worshipped like the seeker. As a result, keepers often didn’t get the credit they deserved. However, unbeknownst to many, the role of the keeper was of the hardest in the game. Sure, I could be a bit of a dull position on occasion, all the waiting. If your team was good enough, you didn’t even see any action – but when the action finally did come their way, they certainly did impress. It wasn’t an easy task, guarding a wide range of goals on a broom. Hundreds of feet off the ground, at that. And Rafa would know – he’d tried it many a time, often during his personal practices. He’d quickly learned that, to his dismay, he was ruddy terrible at the whole thing, having nearly fallen off his broom more times than he could count, and ultimately failing to guard the goalpost as a whole. For this reason, the young Gryffindor held a healthy regard for the goal-guarding members of the Quidditch Teams. They were quite possibly of the most important members of the team.
And, in this case, Asteria was no different. He joked with her, sure, but he knew better than anyone that, once the game started, he’d better watch his ass. Because if she played half as good as she had during the Hufflepuff game, she were to be a formidable enemy on the field. Though, this didn’t stop him from messing around, as he always did – upon hearing the girl’s gentle prods,
a massive grin broke out of his face. He was beginning to like the Hufflepuff Keeper more and more as the moments wore on. She certainly made good company. “Say what you will,” he shot back at her, his eyes dancing with a mix of determination and amusement. “But, I think our playing will do the talking.”
He quickly caught the fly ball that Asteria so gracefully threw at him, gripping his broom with renewed fervor. With careful hands, he guided the broom away from the goals, to a comfortable distance, right beyond the scoring area. He tossed the ball between his hands for a moment, warming up his joints a bit, as he did before every game in the locker room, before finally gripping the ball with his left hand, his hand on the right. [He was ambidextrous, one of the strange quirks about him.] “You ready, then?” he yelled over the wind, his voice loud enough to be heard by a careful ear. “Or, you need more time?” Though it was a legitimate question, his words carried a bit of a mischievous edge, as if he were prodding at her once again. He’d certainly taken all the time he needed to warm up, but that wasn’t to say that the Hufflepuff hadn’t. A small act of kindness, he supposed, or perhaps one of courtesy. Whatever the case, he was ready to play – his senses steeled, and his teeth gritting just slightly, he gripped the broom ever tightly, ready to make the first move.
[/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
26 Jan 2020, 23:21
above the fray
From her place above the stands, she laughed at his bravado. "I'm sure that our playing will do the talking for us. I just intend to make mine a smash hit." Or at least, that was what she hoped she would do. It was easy to put on this mask of bravado, to pretend to be bolder than she really felt half of the time. She didn't know Rafael, he didn't know her. Not really. No one ever truly knows anyone else. At least, that was what she believed. It made it easier in a way, to pretend. Being able to throw around playground dares was a break from her life that she couldn't quite believe she was able to have, and that made it all the more valuable to her.
And then he asked her about her status. It caught her off guard in a way. Most of her had assumed that they would jump right into the action, with no time for checking in. She appreciated it though, a gesture which indicated that he cared about what they were doing. "Oh, I'm ready," she called back, "Come on, hit me with your best shot." Hands gripping tight on her broom, she braced herself, tracking the Gryffindor boy's movements with a wary eye. It wouldn't do to disappoint, she reminded herself. He had come out all the way here, and she'd better put on a good show. It was the least she could do after all. Still, part of her wished that her hair wasn't tied up. She longed for something to tug at, a way of assuaging her nerves. For now, all she could do was twirl her hands around her broom, a frantic motion as she waited for the ball to land in her court, attempting to anticipate the motions she would have to make. Her brow furrowed and she gnawed on her lip ever-so-slightly. It was time for the game to truly begin.@Rafael D'Spacito
everybody crashes - you take a little damage, you'll spit a little blood, but we'll always manage love, cause everybody does