FIFTH YEAR
beater
15 years old
Half-Blood
Single
Maria
25 posts
0 likes
|
Post by Sami Hassan Abbasi on Jun 1, 2013 12:10:09 GMT -6
It hurt like hell but he wasn't about to tell Roux that.
Sami slowly shed his thin, black and soaking wet jacket from his body, revealing a white T-shirt underneath. The Ravenclaw boy quickly checked the doorway behind him to see if Roux was coming into the changing room and, satisfied that the Slytherin was not there, he rolled up the short sleeve of his left arm very slowly, wincing quietly. He stared and frowned at the purple bruise forming on his shoulder. With his other hand, he reached for his wand from his pocket then cursed when it wasn't there. Sami always left his wand under his pillow when he went out for runs or a game of Quidditch; he did not think it was safe to leave it in the changing rooms where anyone could get to it.
Sami quickly unrolled his sleeve, hiding the bruise, and rummaged through his bag for another jacket, mumbling curses to himself. Who's idea was it again to use a Bludger as a Quaffle today? Oh right, it was Sami's, which made his bruise even more pathetic. But it had been Roux's idea to switch positions: Sami as Keeper and Roux as Chaser. Sami had taken off an enchantment on his Bludger so that it wouldn't start attacking Sami and Roux, and so it could work as a real Quaffle. Sami had been the one to suggest that it would interesting to use the bat on a Bludger to score. He hadn't thought that blocking the Quidditch hoops would be so painful. Then again, Sami was used to being hit by Bludgers but it was different from a real game where he expected the pain. Today, he had been stupid enough to forget about the iron Bludger's power. He needed to stop trying to have fun like normal people; clearly, he was not good at it. Trying to be normal made him stupid.
He sighed and sat on the bench, unable to find another jacket. With his right hand he ruffled his soaking wet hair then suddenly sneezed. On top of it all, it had started raining uncontrollably but the two had not stopped playing. Sami stared at his arms, disgusted by how weak he was. Roux was obviously much stronger. The Ravenclaw boy realized that he needed to work out way more the next time he was home. He hardly wanted such an embarrassing accident to happen again. At least Sami had successfully continued playing after the Bludger had hit his shoulder, pretending he was fine. The last thing he wanted was to reveal the bruise. As he contemplated on whether he should just leave without saying goodbye to Roux, the Slytherin boy finally walked in.
|
|
SIXTH YEAR
keeper
17 years old
Edward
16 posts
0 likes
|
Post by Roux Isidore Broussard on Jun 14, 2013 11:13:39 GMT -6
Broussard stood still, letting the droplets slid down through his garments and made each of them slightly wet, just as if he relished in the sensation that the dirt along with the humidity produced on him. It would suffice a punishment and perhaps some minutes of cleansing with the appropriate spells his father would cast on his clothes to recover the natural grey on his wool sweater and the denim on his jeans, not to mention the splotchy chaos his boots would provoke when he walked into any room. From Roux’s own perspective, this was pure fun, and barring the fact that his face was slightly covered in mud and so was his broom, holding the bat in the way he was doing it granted him might and somehow, a sense of control – perhaps he could request for a chaser position later, as long as he adapted enough to gain care and appreciation from the rest of the team – something he couldn’t exactly foresee happening promptly. The boy he was playing with, he was quite barmy, yet, he withheld some sense within all that mental persona, as he was more of a sheepish Ravenclaw than the badarse he was feigned to be. Roux could see through it, plainly, but he wasn’t going to say anything that would burst his small bubble.
The Slytherin took a good grip of his sweater once he shucked it, having tossed the bat off his hand, drop it on the field, helping to let it fall into shallow waters, or some deep pond where he couldn’t retrieve it. He was dressed with a black tank-top underneath, assuring himself commodity as he revelled beneath the raindrops. What would start off as a drizzle could end up in a monsoon, but the bloke minded nothing except the sensation on himself. He hovered closer to the ground, still handling the broomstick until he felt near enough to leap from the object into the damp soil, smearing his trousers with splotches of dirt. Tarnishing his image was something could be called an specialty on him, which couldn’t be anything but done faultlessly. Roux landed safely as he grabbed the broom before it hit the ground, bending down a little to pick the bat up and clasping it along with the broomstick on the same hand whilst in the other he was loosely carrying his sweater. It wasn’t a far distance between the changing rooms and the Quidditch pitch, so the strolling could prove to be refreshing to him in the meantime.
Pacing through the brief hallway that separated the changing rooms from the pitch, the bloke thrust the broomstick and the bat aside before turning around as he drew his wand outside of his pocket, casting a spell on the bludger to make it float through the drenched atmosphere to his very position, leaving it aside the rest of the stuff. The bloke carried his wand with him, always, and it had merited some wrecked ones which cost many galleons to his father. From what he could see it, the bloke had shifted a dozen whilst still being sixteen, so no wonder why his father was livid whenever the sole mention of his wand arose. “Quite of a match…” he mentioned as he entered the room, disposing the clinging garment on the nearest seat. Roux headed to his locker, before passing the area where the funny accent bloke was located. Although he didn’t have much to say, knowing that his accent was a matter of jesting, as well. “You are tough for being a Ravenclaw” he wanted nothing but to bloat his ego a little, as he knew the bloke was in a need of it. He stowed both of the drapes on the bench before pointing his wand at them, making them come dry summarily, so he could wear them again, regardless of how stained they might look.
“I’ll tell you something… if you want to be a keeper, you need to work on your reflexes” like a friendly advice, something he never did, he just tried to summed it up for him. “Try not to shut your lids close when the bludger comes, as it’s probable you’ll get buffeted if so” Roux rolled on his tank-top before finding a seat close to his position, moving all the way from his locker to where the Ravenclaw was settled. “I’m not an expert, but, it could come in handy… if you think so” he shrugged his shoulders before letting out a chuckle, as this was the nicest he could be like.
|
|
FIFTH YEAR
beater
15 years old
Half-Blood
Single
Maria
25 posts
0 likes
|
Post by Sami Hassan Abbasi on Jun 19, 2013 21:39:38 GMT -6
Sami almost snorted aloud when Roux commented on their match. To Sami, the match had been a chaotic mess that he had had no choice but to keep alive in order to retain his DIGNITY. Sami vowed to himself to never unlock his dying creative side ever again as it may just have killed him had it not started to rain. Of course, the few few minutes after the rain started they had still played but once it became obvious that it would be slightly dangerous to continue in the sudden downpour of rain without proper gear, he had suggested that they stop.
Naturally, the rain had not only soaked his jacket but every other piece of clothing on his body. The boy was taking his socks off when Roux complimented him. He looked up at Roux, who was now taking his wand out to dry his clothes, somewhat surprised but very pleased with himself on the inside. Sami quickly turned his gaze back to his socks, now emotionless again save for the small, satisfied smile on his face that also disappeared after a brief moment. It was true, Sami needed the ego boost as he felt slightly defeated on the inside after the hit on his shoulder. To make matters worse, he felt stupid sitting there with soaking wet clothes while Roux dried his. He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, realizing he would have to ask the older boy to dry his clothes as well. Sami didn't like asking for help.
Roux began speaking first however and Sami closed his mouth quickly as the Slytherin started moving toward him as he spoke. Because it was obvious the boy was going to sit next to him, Sami shoved his wet clothes to the side and made room. The Ravenclaw gave him a half-smile and a shake of his head. "Yeah, I'm going to stop trying other positions because I really don't intend to play them anyway. I'll leave the job of Keeper to you. I'm a Beater; I'd rather bash people with a ball than try stopping one," Sami replied with a small chuckle of his own. He got up from the bench and laid out his wet clothes where he had been sitting, even taking off the white T-shirt he had just been wearing. Once they were all laid out, he turned to Roux and then nodded at his wet clothes. "S'il vous plait, dry them, monsieur," Sami said with almost a flawless French accent and a very serious face. He desperately wanted to know if the accent was good - as he always wanted to know - but refrained from letting any emotion cross his face. It was funnier that way.
|
|
SIXTH YEAR
keeper
17 years old
Edward
16 posts
0 likes
|
Post by Roux Isidore Broussard on Jul 7, 2013 3:28:03 GMT -6
The Slytherin anticipated each of his moves, perceiving him chucking his belongings aside to have a slightly wider place for him to sit. Even when it was a matter of courtesy and manners stood above everything else, the sod was not in the specific pleasure of being tended by someone else but himself. Pouting in an inconspicuous way, he settled down ignoring the humid clothes that left their wet mark on the benches, causing some visible stains on him that he couldn’t heed. “Stick to the status quo” he voiced, quite tempted to throw it aloud more like a command than anything, though the silent pause ensued was enough to assure him he hadn’t been exactly mild with his comments. “You know… it’s always best to do that of what you know than having to learn it all over” snarling at the last sentence, Roux urged his hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the sniggers that followed. It was perhaps aimed to himself, referring to everything engulfing didactics and teaching, as when it came to schooling, he couldn’t say he had done the best at undertakings.
Roux’s stance maintained, adamant as always, just as he couldn’t help to fluff his hair with his hand, barely fumbling on the unkempt mane as he just leant forwards, stowing an elbow on his knee whilst the other stood a few centimetres from his lap, rubbing his chin with a malicious hint. “Je ne peux pas” the diverted façade figuring exposed upon his countenance, just as he feigned something close to a stern expression, as if reluctant to aid the Ravenclaw in the task. For the easiest the cinch seemed, Roux shared no altruism sense when it came to others, but more of a taunting manner to do the complete otherwise. Even when his French was practically the one of a Paris inhabitant, he wouldn’t comply before alien whims. Nevertheless, he heaved his hand attached to his wand as he pointed it at the drenched garments, making the slightly hefty objects to hover aloft just for ounces of time before letting them desiccate without even touching them, landing back into place once they were dry enough for wearing.
“An abomination this is…” the statement out from his heart, from the depths of his soulless being, just as an admitted foible of his. Perhaps, after all the steeling outside, he was soft and plump inside. “Expect no repetition of this event… I’m not nice to people” he barked, stuffing his pocket with the instrument in his grip. Roux was in plain awareness of his talent with spells and the wand usage, as he was a natural because of heritage – his father was Charms professor, after all. “Silly Sami can’t cast a simple drying spell?” it was time to restrain himself and to retrieve his ruthless attitude against life and people likewise, no favouritism to any of the parties. “Swish and Flick” in a pretty mocking gesture, the bloke mimicked his father’s voice, as if he could hearken to his words and perhaps reprimand him for such behaviour, when such thing wouldn’t occur.
|
|
