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Author Topic: Quidditch Game Three - Acromantula Vs. Thestral  (Read 1167 times)

* Sylvia Renn

    (12/30/2016 at 01:32)
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Thestral - Seeker --> Chaser & Captain

Crack.

Again and again, and again Sylvia knew this one was for her. A present wrapped in pursuit, and dripping with twisted success. She felt her fingers twist anxiously over her handle as she shot away from her Snitch (not hers, definitely not hers, though). A straight arrow along the ground, feeling the tips of the grass tickle her legs, she cast a wary glance behind her.

(One time, a distant voice murmured, Sylvia would have kept on track and given herself if it meant gaining on the Snitch —)

— that was before, though. Sylvia barely heard the transfer of positions Fish called out, and her own voice, “Alric!” (hope and doubt churned into one name) as she twisted upwards, heart racing her faint outline on the grass and Adrian’s trajectory to meet her assailant. A flash of fear twisted her route, as though he might shoot it closer, but he is on the same team, she hurried assured herself. Still, blue eyes widened as his bat swung, and closed as though it might dull the impact.

As if time slowed and the familiar sound shot pain through her chest and her heart, Sylvia felt nothing but the breeze and she opened her eyes. The game continued in its roundabout way, and she shook her blonde locks in a mix of disappointment and distress. “You’re faster than this, come on!” Eyes pricked unconsciously, as she protested no, I am really not towards the Seeker who had caught all three against the girl who had only caught one. She looked over her shoulder at the drifting figure of Icarus, as his voice wavered towards her, “I will come down there and catch it myssself--” (A promise? A threat? Threat, probably.)

“Argabright for Renn as Seeker!” she said loudly, turning her eyes away from the boy whose talent wasted by the hoops to the rest of her lackluster team. Forced into positions they had little practice playing, Sylvia had thought she was doing the right thing by letting them try new things. This experiment had run its course, though, and she was done letting them struggle through midnight. Her team was mostly scrambled in its strengths, and finally, she had the power to fix it.

(Sorry, I am not cut out for this, and we need to end this soon —)

“Green for Argabright as Keeper! Look alive, Mia!” She prayed the young girl could hold out long enough to Argabright to catch the Snitch. Her eyes moved to proud Marzanna, who had given it her all in the end. Strengths, and she glanced towards Finny with a grin. “Kasimir for Summers as Beater! Renn for McCormick as Chaser! Summers for McCrae as Chaser!” and then because he was so determined to get under her nerves, “Duncan, start playing, or you will warm the bench!”

Sylvia would have rathered returned to the protection of the bench, but her team was tiring and what Captain lounged where it was comfortable when a couple of her team seemed so out of it they forgot their positions on the field. Chaser, higher chance for a bludger, but not as terrible if she darted away from it. She glanced towards Icarus, silently pleading forgiveness for her failure to put him rightfully as Seeker before. Prideful, head-strong, stupid girl, she chided herself.

“The last mile, guys! We can clean this up and get to bed!”

Twisting from her spot, she glanced towards Finny. She knew Nina and him typically made the Chaser team, but the girl was lagging behind. Six hours would take their toll on anyone, so Sylvia would have to do for now. “If you can get between Marina and Caitlin, I can take her other side,” she said quietly as she swooped towards the boy. A quick smile, and Sylvia flew quickly towards Caitlin's open side.
« Last Edit: 12/31/2016 at 16:35 by Sylvia Renn »
you  /yōō, yə/ pronoun.
  a microscope through which I can see
  all the broken parts of me.

* Icarus Argabright

    (12/30/2016 at 03:28)
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Team Thestral : Seeker

“Arga--”

His name had not breached her lips before the Ravenclaw mounted his broom, propelled by mounting panic. He had not let his attention go from the golden ball he found by other senses than sight; he could not afford to let his attention stray now. Blind but for buzzing, the warm brass tone like the death throes of a radio sinking into the breaks of his bones, he sped. At the rate of the acid   the drums   the thorns in his throat tearing through the structure of his guts as they made steel boxes of themselves with their hard edges in his soft body and pressed into each other with intention to collapse until bursting    at the speed of his desperation to find himself in space and to sleep away the demanding fear,  Icarus raced toward the Snitch effortlessly in the dark.

"Seeker coming through!" he called to the nameless masses as he passed them:    Chasers, empty handed, because the greenness about them tasted like charcoal briquette;     a Beater who also felt green, but only around the shell of his ear. She would be wise, as they all would, to keep the death spheres away from him. A spark of confidence in probably-not-dying-by-bludger-tonight spurred him faster.

It was not a matter of speed, but of prediction: knowing the ball would change its course at random, knowing the possibilities of collisions when he changed his path after it. It was not a matter of speed, but of defence: tracking and guarding against the traps of inertia that would prevent him from following. It was not a matter of speed, but of adaptation: in peril for his life, whether real or biologically-simulated, Icarus was always prepared. And as the snitched changed course-- once-- twice-- with the shrill cry of enchanted metal, spun toward Agnes Ogden from behind her-- Icarus was ready then too, and seized this advantage after it.

Loose ink, misplaced in the air, floated in exactly the way he would expect it to move without gravity. An elegant mass the shade of the sky, equally ambivalent and as potentially oppressive. She might have offered to assist Sylvia in catching the Snitch, but Icarus did not intend to let her or anyone else get in his way. The only help he needed was a respectfully wide berth.

"Watch out!"
one more time with feeling.

Caitlin McLeod

    (12/31/2016 at 16:17)
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Team Acromantula – Chaser


"Well, surely someone..."
The crack of a Bludger sounded somewhere above, and Caitlin pulled desperately to the side. She had stopped relying too much on her sight hours ago. It just wasn't particularly useful for anything beyond pinpointing her rough location on the pitch anymore. But the sharp whistle of air as a Bludger closed in gave its position away almost as well as actually seeing the ball would have to the experienced ear, and she had spent years and years playing.
“Marina, dodge. Bludger from above.”
As usual when Bludgers were involved, her voice came out in a sharp snap, each word short, clear and precise. There was no time to be wasted on niceties.

She pulled her broom upward to dodge the black form of another player – Zak.
“Thanks, Cap. That was a close one.”
She flashed him a warm smile before accelerating as much as she dared in the dark.
It was risky – very risky, in fact, as it gave her even less time to dodge – but she had a gut feeling that she would need that speed soon. Better to have it already, get a bit of an advantage if at all possible.

Substitutions were made, and Caitlin idly noted the names, out of pure habit, and smiled. It might leave her with two unknowns as Beaters, but at least now she had a Keeper that she knew and trusted behind her. If the rest of the team kept up, they might be able to finally make some headway.

At some point during all of this, Lamont had disappeared, probably in search of the Quaffle that she believed lost. There just hadn't been time to tell her otherwise before she got distracted.
Oh well. She'd manage. If she squinted her eyes, she could already make out the hoops pretty well. Assuming her feeling for visibility was correct, that should, presumably mean that she was close to the scoring area...

Another set of substitutions, this time from Sylvia interrupted the thought and brought a slow smile to her face. Icarus as Seeker meant free hoops for a moment - or at least a distracted Keeper if she could get there quick enough... and even if not, she could definitely take on Mia.
Syl and Finny as Chasers though... the smile turned into a pensive frown. If they managed to flank her, that would definitely complicate things, unless she managed to reach the scoring area first. Both of them were more than just capable Chasers.

Throwing all caution to the winds, Caitlin pushed her broom to the limit, pressing  forward while she could. Her eyes never left the hoops, but she kept track of any movement in her vicinity from the corners of her eyes. The worst thing that could happen right now was for them to surprise her. As long as she kept a level head, she could think her way out, work from a different angle.
Maybe her trust in her own abilities was too much, but it was what had carried her through the past years and how likely was it really that it should fail her now?
Anything was possible if one only believed.

Just a little further, a few more seconds more...







GRYFFINDOR
Glory Roars


#033 McLeod

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