Captain Demelza Eagle
March 31, 2012 2:57 PM
Pecari Quidditch Sign-ups. It isn't a question. by Captain Demelza Eagle
Finally, after five years of waiting as an assistant captain, Demelza was going to lead the Pecari Quidditch team. She had been obessed with the sport at a very young age, and her obsession grew stronger as she grew older. This summer she had a try-out for a Regional Quidditch team for kids of her age. Although she did not make the co-ed league (which, honestly, was mostly boys), she made the woman's league, which was super fun. She even started in one of the games and played really well. It had been such a great summer, and her Quiddithc skills had gotten so much better because of it. Still, the knowledge that she wasn't good enough for the best team worried her... what if her plans to not go to college and try and make it to the pros didn't work? Since Jamie was able to do it so easily, she thought why not her? But in America, the competition was just to intense, and the chances of a woman making to the pros was slim.Trying not to focus on all that quite yet, Mel tried to take care of the present, which included building up her own Quidditch team. The day before leaving her home in Delaware to go to Sonora she make a really pretty sign-up sheet. She really hoped that they'd get some new kids sign up, especially ones that were dedicated, because Mel had an... interesting training program planned for her team this year. She spent all summer making it up, and she was quite sure no one had ever tried to use it before. But, honestly, she was just so bored of the same old training. The creative, left-handed eighteen-year-old had to try something different.
Skipping across the common room after the opening feast, a bright red poster in her hand, Mel ran up to the bulletin to pin up the sign-up sheet. She drew bludgers and snitches and brooms on it to make it look extra fancy.
PECARI QUIDDITCH SIGN UP.
Join last year's House Championship team! Sign-up below (or else). Try-outs will be held on Saturday September 17 at 12 noon. Come (or else). Below, include your name, year, and desired positions.
Please note that no positions are guaranteed, so everyone has equal chances for every position.
Name: Demelza Eagle
Year: 7
Position: Beater and Captain
"Hey!" Mel shouted as loud as she could to her housemates assembled in the common room. "Quidditch sign-ups are up. So go sign-up!"
Subthreads: Re: Pecari Quidditch Sign-ups. It isn't a question. by Sayre Light with Elijah Errant
It's ahead of strawberry pancakes, is that good enough? by Mellie Goodwin
Who would think of it in such a manner? by Jhonice Trevear
Of course it isn't! by Sophie Jamison
I am your answer! by Amira Thornton
The icing on the cake by Jade Owen
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Captain Demelza Eagle
Pecari Quidditch Sign-ups. It isn't a question.
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Captain Demelza Eagle
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Sayre Light
March 31, 2012 5:54 PM
Re: Pecari Quidditch Sign-ups. It isn't a question. by Sayre Light
Sayre's head snapped up at the mention of Quidditch sign-ups. She'd been fascinated with the sport since she'd learned about the magic world. Though Sayre hadn't done many sports in her life on broomstick - or any, actually - she was a natural-born athlete. At least, she had the build for it: tall and lean, kept in relatively good shape from rowing back home, Sayre had excelled at every sport she'd tried before finally picking and sticking to crew.The girl who was the team's captain seemed kinda...intense, for lack of a better word. All over the sign up sheet were threats if she didn't sign up. Sayre figured that they were figurative, but, really, she couldn't be sure. Nothing seemed to be sure in this new magical world.
But, Sayre thought to herself, dismissing those maudlin thoughts, this would be an excellent opportunity to meet some new people. And at this point, with the threats of the Families hanging over her head, Sayre knew was her best option for fitting in, especially as a Muggle-born. She thought back to the books she'd read on Quidditch; the positions. She knew her build wasn't right for a Seeker, but she was light and quick. Beating didn't appeal to her - softball had never been her favorite. Keeping seemed too much like being the goalie in soccer - fun, but somewhat anticlimactic compared to the action going on on the rest of the field. A Chaser? Maybe.
"Hey," Sayre asked the person next to her, also inspecting the sign-up list, "do you know if you can you try out for two positions?"
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Sayre Light
Re: Pecari Quidditch Sign-ups. It isn't a question.
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Sayre Light
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Mellie Goodwin
April 01, 2012 5:37 PM
It's ahead of strawberry pancakes, is that good enough? by Mellie Goodwin
Mellie had heard, from the stairs, Demelza’s call to arms right after the Feast, but had been on her way to the bathroom and without a quill anywhere on her person and just not a fan of the idea of signing up with everyone in the whole House watching her, so she had decided not to answer right away. Instead, she went to the bathroom, then got her things sorted out for the next morning, and then got ready for bed without signing up, meaning to do it in the morning.In the morning, she had forgotten about it, but the sign was big and it was bright red (which she thought was kind of weird; yeah, it really stood out, enough that it made her eyes water a little to look too directly at it for long, but red was a Crotalus color, and since Crotalus was consistently one of the top two teams over them in Pecari, it just seemed like maybe it could have some associations other than being easy to see) and it caught her attention as soon as she got far enough back down the stairs into the common room to see it as she went down for breakfast. Then she was reminded of the previous evening.
“Shoot,” she muttered, but she decided she had better risk all the strawberry pancakes being gone in favor of signing up right now, while she was still thinking about it. She couldn’t, after all, even be sure they would be out in the Hall this morning, and if there were, there would be lots, and if they still ran out, there would be more, and she had a lot more time to eat than to sign up. She went through the little purse her mother had bought her – which seemed a little unnecessary when she was already carrying a big bag full of books and notebooks around all day, but she liked how grown-up and girly it made her feel to have a purse, too, so she put up with the extra strap to have to keep up with – until she found something to write with, then she went over to the sign and added her information.
Mellie Goodwin,
She looked it over for a moment, satisfied that her handwriting was neat despite the cross-out where she had started to write that she was a second year and that it had been a good idea to use ‘Mellie’ instead of ‘Melanie’ after the slight confusion that had seemed to cause last year because of how she really didn’t use her given name except when answering roll call or something, and then went on to breakfast, hurrying her step up a little with the thought of those pancakes. Her mom had fixed her strawberry pancakes for breakfast yesterday before she came to school because they were her favorite, but she didn’t really think having had them recently was doing anything to make her want them less, if they were in the Cascade Hall today, right now.
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Mellie Goodwin
It's ahead of strawberry pancakes, is that good enough?
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Mellie Goodwin
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Jhonice Trevear
April 02, 2012 7:15 PM
Who would think of it in such a manner? by Jhonice Trevear
Jhonice was just a bit miffed. Andrew had not given her his broom for her to bring to school and play quidditch. He wasn't here anymore to play, he wouldn't need it. She was late getting back to the common room after the feast, she hadn't been able to find Sully anywhere, and missed Demlza's announcement. She did however find the sign-up sheet the next morning. She neatly printed her name at the bottom of the list.Jhonice Trevear 3rd year Chaser
She had briefly debated putting down something else for her position, but she was an awesome chaser and it would be a shame to deprive the team of her experience.
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Jhonice Trevear
Who would think of it in such a manner?
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Jhonice Trevear
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Elijah Errant
April 03, 2012 1:18 AM
Returning for the Glory by Elijah Errant
At Demelza’s order Elijah bounded up out of his seat, briefly tripping over his own feet and banging his side into the hard edged corner of a nearby occupied table - ‘Owwwww!’ - before managing to stay alive and arrive at the sign up sheets. He’d been cradling a stolen quill in his dark caramel skinned palms all day, anxious to prove his continued loyalty toward Captain Eagle, eager to reassure her that his devotion hadn’t lessened or wavered despite the long summer apart. “Scuzi,” He leaned forward, left hand raised toward the sign up sheet, briefly blocking the first year girl’s view. “No positions guaranteed.” He mumbled to himself, dark brown eyes locking on those intriguing words. ‘It must mean... yes, of course! She knows I want seeker so she’s not assuring Jade’s spot so that I can try out again and have it.’ He began to scribble his name on the sheet.Elijah Errant
Year Two
See
His quill paused mid-word, a crease forming in his brow. ‘But if I’m seeker - which I totally deserve to be - than I can’t be beater... and I can’t be with Demelza as much.’ He bit his lip, free hand scratching at the back of his dark curls, a true dilemma forming in his mind, a schism breaking a path. Seeker was a solitary position but a noble one. He would win games for Demelza and perhaps that was the way to her favor. But to lose out on the semi-private moments of mentor and willing disciple, the shared experience of arms aching under the strain of wood cracking against iron again and again and again, the throaty laugh bursting from the tall sixth year which Elijah was privileged to hear over and over again. “Huh?” He was broken from his conflicted thoughts by the girl next to him. “Oh - si, yeah, as many positions as you want.” There, his own problem answered. He was a genius. He turned and quickly finished scribbling his purpose.
Elijah Errant
Year Two
Seeker and Beater
He straightened up satisfied, and turned to smile more fully at the girl. “What’re you going to try out for then?” This was a potential teammate, and Elijah wanted all the support he could get if being named seeker (if he still wanted to be named seeker) ended up being reduced to nothing more than a popularity contest between him and Jade. “I’m,” He jabbed a finger at his scrawled name as introduction before his fingers relaxed into an outstretched hand. “by the way. Nice to meet you.”
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Elijah Errant
Returning for the Glory
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Elijah Errant
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Sayre Light
April 03, 2012 7:55 PM
Hi, I'm *jabs finger at name* by Sayre Light
"Likewise," Sayre said, grinning slightly and shaking his outstretched hand. It seemed like most of her fellow Pecari's were pretty intense. This kid seemed to be especially into Quidditch. At least, he was staring at the sign=up sheet, not to mention the captain, like an ever-faithful devotee or acolyte of some sort. "I'm," she scribbled her name on the sign-up: Sairahiniel Light, before jabbing at it the way the boy, Elijah, had. "But you can call me Sayre. A bit easier to swallow, no?" Sayre could feel her accent changing from it's natural rough Cockney to mimic the boy's. It sounded Mediterranean. Italian, maybe? She'd never been able to help the mimicry, it was just something hardwired into her brain. Sayre smiled to let the boy know that she wasn't making fun of him."Where're you from?" she asked. "I love your accent. Very cool." She looked down at what he had put on the sign-up sheet. Seeker and beater. Huh. How many people were trying out for Seeker? Sayre worried her lip slightly. Was it worth trying out?
Yes. Yes it was.
"I'm going for Chaser or Seeker." She paused, leaning in, as if she was going to share a secret. "Got any dirt on the other contenders?"
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Sayre Light
Hi, I'm *jabs finger at name*
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Sayre Light
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Elijah
April 03, 2012 9:30 PM
I'll just call you Jab for short by Elijah
Elijah laughed at her repetition, glancing at the name. “No, you’re crazy. Sara.. uh... Sara-hen-el...” He struggled to pronounce it correctly, tongue curving over unfamiliar syllables, testing the flavor. “I like it. It’s cool.” He was drawn to the unique. The Errantez clan spanned continents, incorporating a large range of nationalities, ethnicities, languages, dark skin tones and light. But still, too many of them looked like Elijah. The same dark curls, dark eyes, and skin. It was all too easy to fit in. But at least on his grand-père’s ranch, surrounded by the frequent foreign tourists and the native tribes, he stood out from the bright shades of orange and yellow hair, from the straight ink dripping from the natives’ heads, their tattoos glowing in the moonlight.“I have an accent?” Elijah blinked down at Sairahiniel, a smile playing on his lips, unsure if she was joking, housing an odd sense of humor. “I don’t - you do.” His voice was a mingled hybrid of his father’s Spain (where he’d been born, dragged in and out of pureblood balls and diplomatic functions, running with limited freedom down the cobbled streets of Madrid, lazing during the summers in Seville, petted by his abuelos urging him to run off and play with his cousins), his grand-mère’s African dialect (an old village whose name he continuously forgot, not that it mattered, the family generally dismissed her origins as a dark shade on the map, proclaiming all of it Africa, one and the same), his grand-père’s France and his mother’s Arizona where he lived now. His father’s position as Ambassador and the fact that Elijah’s family was made of several different nationalities had given him exposure to dozens of foreign sounds and languages, but it had never occurred to him that he would sound different to others. Only that they sounded strange and exotic to him.
“I live on my grand-père’s ranch among the Hualapai tribe. We’re separate from them though. They hunt with the Tamers and we race Hippogriffs.” Elijah grinned. “It’s awesome. I’ll get to do that when I’m older. But uh, most of my family comes from Spain.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, a little uncomfortable thinking about the strange separations within his family. “That’s where I was raised so - anyway - you?” Her voice seemed to have changed midway through talking. “Where are you from?” He enjoyed attention, but his body seemed to involuntarily stiffen when conversation provoked his own questions about his father’s family. He liked Arizona, living in the canyon, free from pureblood society’s rules, sitting straight and paying compliments to girls in pink dresses whose faces and names blended together. Every English girl’s name was Anne, ever French girl’s was Marie, every Spanish girl was Maria or Valentina or Alejandra or the names of his own cousins. Too many girls and the boys were worse, their noses too high in the air and only by the grace of Julio’s power in Madrid was Elijah spared execution for shoving an Adan Velasquez’s head into his bowl of tomato soup.
He watched as she signed up for Chaser... and then put down his position. “I’ll root for you for Chaser.” He grinned, a tease flickering in his tone. “But I’m going to humiliate you on catching the snitch.” Her question sparked an interest in him, his dark eyes appraising the eleven year old girl in front of him, trying to judge the full extent of her worth. “Well...” His traveled around the room, locking on the captain. ‘She’d see that as an act of betrayal... but what the hell.’ Elijah’s face split into a bright smile, an arm easily landing on Sairahiniel’s shoulder, attempting to lead her away from the sheet to make room for other people signing up. “You missed a whole lot of drama last year, chica. First off, I was up for seeker last year but tragically I was brutally attacked in a fight for my life last year.” He waved his free hand dismissively, the lies falling like water from his mouth, flowing naturally. “It was a whole protect my sister thing, it was in the news, no big deal, I was honored by the American minister, fought off the kidnappers and got my crup back so it all ended well.” He turned to fully face her, drawing back the sleeves of his robe to show her the three talon marks scarring his arm, mostly faded from last year. “See? Cool, eh?” He let the sleeves fall down again, enjoying the slight retelling of what had only been his Hippogriff Sombra attacking him out of anger last year. Somehow that never seemed as fulfilling a story to him.
“Anyway, I was incapacitated so I couldn’t play seeker so they made me reserve. My replacement was going to be Amira who’s a perfectly decent player but,” Elijah’s voice lowered dramatically. “She was hexed by Jade Owen, who wants to be seeker even more than I do. It’s not really her fault, some sort of mental disorder runs in her family.” He failed to bite down a grin. He actually found himself feeling excited in Jade’s company, but was determined to hate her. Still, he nearly always felt the urge to both laugh and rail against her when thoughts of her popped up. “Anyway, Jade became seeker and then I became beater because I was healed from my ordeal after saving my mother,” He paused. “Er - sister.” Whew, close one. Good save. “And uh, Demelza really likes me so she shoved Demetra off the team to make room for me.” He nodded with finality, story wrapping up. “I’ll put in a good for you as chaser. Demelza confides in me and I’ve decided you’re cool.” He smiled, fully expecting her to have followed all he'd said.
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Elijah
I'll just call you Jab for short
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Elijah
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Sayre Light
April 03, 2012 10:15 PM
We can be Jib-Jab! by Sayre Light
Sayre tried to smother her laughter as Elijah told the daring tale of his rescue of his mother/sister. The lie was so obvious that even if Sayre hadn't been a human lie-detector she would've figured it out. Too many details, not to mention that he was talking far to quickly for it to be the truth. And there was no American minister. There was an American president, but she kept that little tidbit of information to herself."Thanks," Sayre said, not much used to compliments about her name. Or much of anything for that matter. She was too odd-looking to be called pretty, what with her stark white complexion and inky-black hair. She looked like she'd be more at home in a black-and-white film than a vibrant, colorful world of magic. The only redeemable features on her face were her eyes - blue as the sky and shifting all the time, from periwinkle to cerulean in a matter of seconds. But even they were marred by the long, twisting scar that shattered the symmetry of her face, streaking across the skin, a black ravine through the snow, spanning the length between her left eye and jawbone. People often looked away when she made eye contact, whether it be from her bewitching eyes, or (more likely) that they were ashamed to stare at the scar. "And you're pronouncing my name wrong. It's See-ra-hin-ee-el. Sairahiniel. But, really, call me Sayre if that's too much of a mouthful."
Sayre laughed quietly to herself when Elijah said that his accent was of Spanish descent. Oops. "A Hippogriff ranch? That sounds exciting!" Better than where I was raised, Sayre thought, but didn't put form the words. "I'm, uh, from a little but of everywhere. Traveled a lot when I was a kid. Mostly around Britain, which is why I talk like this," she said, waving a hand as if her distinctive accent was a palpable thing. "Oh, and sorry for getting your accent wrong. I'm still a little culture-shocked. There are so many people here!"
"Oh, and that would be brilliant if you could put in a good word for me with the captain." Sayre said, her words dripping with sarcasm. "But don't count me out yet. I'm tall, but I'm fast. You'd better watch your back up there." Sayre bumped her shoulder against his, a gesture that was unfamiliar to her, but came naturally. Was she teasing?
Odd. Just plain odd.
"Oh," she said, an afterthought. "I guess you're pretty cool yourself. A rotten liar, but cool." Sayre returned Elijah's grin, her eyes sparkling bright blue with amusement.
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Sayre Light
We can be Jib-Jab!
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Sayre Light
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Elijah
April 03, 2012 11:02 PM
Just call me Master and Commander, and you'll be Jab. by Elijah
“I can say it!” Elijah declared, indignant at her lack of faith in him. “Seh-rah... See-ra... See-rah-hen-el.” He frowned, but his eyes remained light. “I know that wasn’t right, just repeat it one more time for me.” It was like mastering spells. The pronunciation always felt too thick at first, too large to fit into his mouth, but gradually the syllables always softened and he could pronounce the right sound, cast magic. Her name was no different. “See-ra...hin-ee-el?” He tried, grinning at the pleasant accomplishment. “Sairahiniel, hah!” He rocked back on his heels, pleased with himself. “Told you I could. What does it mean, anyway?” It fitted her, the strange uniqueness of the name. He wouldn’t have assumed someone who looked like her to have been named Anne or Marie or Maria, Valentina, or Alejandra. He wouldn’t have known what to call someone who looked like her but when Sairahiniel was provided it suited her well. His fingers itched to trace the scar indented in her face. He was reminded of the ruptures of the canyon. Her face looked like mountain terrain, the scar a jagged river flowing through the hard surface, her eyes pools of sunlight beamed from the bright sky. A sudden rush of familiarity and despite the potential of her being his upcoming rival Elijah immediately decided she was to be his friend. A pet minion at the very least.He tilted his head, smiling, tongue between his teeth. “I still say I have no accent.” He laughed. “It’s only you. You don’t really sound like the British people I know.” Her voice was a little rougher than the Yorkshire accents his aunt’s family had, fitting with the hard texture of her scarred face. “I have cousins there. Well, cousins all around actually.” Cousins and half siblings and no doubt illegitimate Errantez heirs running amok around the world. Sometimes it was comforting to know that no matter where he went, someone with shared blood and ancestry was nearby. Other times it felt stifling, the world too small. When he flew, the world consisted of no ground, only the air and the air was limitless. “How come you traveled so much?” He pressed a little further. “Where are you from originally?” He couldn’t get over her scar. He traced it with his eyes, restricting his fascination to sight, no touch. ‘Maybe if I touch it really quickly... just really quickly and say it was only an accident!’ He flexed his fingers experimentally, waiting for an opportune moment to get a feel but his plans were thrown off by the surprise bump against his shoulder. He laughed reflexively.
“You’re just a little firstie,” He bumped back, delighted with her challenge, teeth flashing bright white against his dark toned skin. “I’mma fly circles around you so fast you’ll be be...” He lost the thread of his boast. “I’mma fly really fast around you.” His laughter overcame his words, and he was mildly surprised to feel warm at her compliment. "That's right," He declared. "I am cool. Don't you forget it." He wondered how good she was really. He would hate to have to hate her if she beat him at Seeker.
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Elijah
Just call me Master and Commander, and you'll be Jab.
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Elijah
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Sayre Light
April 04, 2012 5:35 PM
OR...I can be Sayre, and you, Elijah by Sayre Light
Sayre laughed as Elijah struggled with the pronunciation of her name. But hey, at least he was trying. Most people didn't even bother trying once, let alone the three or four times he'd attempted it."Sairahiniel," Sayre said, saying it slowly and carefully, as if to a kindergartner, grinning openly at Elijah's indignation. "Oh, bravo!" she said, clapping when he finally got it right. "And it means, uh," she trailed off. "Sairahiniel means 'darkness.'" She threw Elijah a smile, trying not to show her discomfort. Sayre hated the meaning of her name. It was too ominous, read too much like a prophesy, especially after it had become all too clear that she was not a normal child. Magical accidents - even tragedies - followed her like the wake from a speedboat, only growing bigger and more dangerous the faster she tried to escape it. "Ironic, right? I mean, who names their kid 'Darkness' with the surname 'Light?'" Sayre tried to pass the whole thing off as a colossal joke. She was good at that - lying came easy to her. Though clearly not for Elijah, she thought, smiling slightly to herself. The smile withered when she heard Elijah's next questions, speeding at her rapid-fire.
"Cousins in England? But I thought you said your family was Spanish?" Sayre said, trying to buy herself time to think up an excuse for why she traveled to often. Somehow, she didn't think the truth was going to cut it in this particular situation. In fact, usually people just accepted the fact that she had traveled at face-value and moved on. But not Elijah. There was a insatiable curiosity in his deep chocolate eyes that told Sayre that he wouldn't be satisfied until her knew the whole truth.
Or a very good lie.
"I'm from Whitechapel, originally," Sayre said. That much was true. "So I can call myself a true-blue Cockney, to the core." She grinned at him. "And you do have an accent, by the way. It's nice though, nice to listen to. Very exotic." Sayre thought it was funny that Elijah kept insisting that he didn't speak differently than the people here. Most of them were American, she'd noticed, so they, they with the accents, tended to stick out. "I traveled for my mum's job. She worked a little of everywhere. Sales, you know. Always traveling." Sayre nodded, satisfied with her lie. It had just enough truth in it to be plausible, all the while avoiding details that could leave her in a tangled heap a while down the road.
"And I may be a firstie," she shot back at him, not taking the insult to heart, "but you know how I found out about my magic? I woke up flying in the air. So you might just say that flight is in my blood. And I might like you, but that doesn't mean that I'll go easy in tryouts, O Rival Seeker." Sayre crossed her arms over her chest, a challenge, but it was softened by the light shining in her eyes. It was fun, this camaraderie; weird and alien to her, but still fun.
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Sayre Light
OR...I can be Sayre, and you, Elijah
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Sayre Light
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Elijah
April 04, 2012 6:26 PM
My idea was better. by Elijah
“My family is Spanish.” Elijah began to wander to one of the couches, jumping backwards, tucking his legs beneath him in mid-air before he sank into the soft velvet. “Mi abuelo was Ambassador to Portugual and married mi abuela and had my father and my aunt Yelena. My father’s first family was with Maria and she’s from Austria but I think she was British too. They had my half-brother Noah and I have a half-sister Carmen. She lives with my father and Daniela in Madrid. And my mother is from Arizona and my sister and I live with her and nos grands-parents.” He briefly closed his eyes, trying to remember the name of his uncle. As a younger child he had been made to study the Errantez genealogy. It was expected for the purebloods to know their family tree thoroughly. “Aunt Yelena married Uncle Edward and they live in England. But we are all Spanish because that’s where our original ancestors are from and that’s where I was born and raised. But anyway,” He glared at her, thrown wayward by her reflected questions. “I wanted to know about you. I already know all about me.” He leaned forward and stretched his finger, attempting to poke her, urge her to spill.“Whitechapel.” He repeated, cocking his head, tasting another new word. He made a mental note to write a letter to his cousin Inigo and ask him for details about English towns. “Um...” He leaned back in the couch at her compliment, dark caramel skin shielding most of the color attempting to flare in his cheeks, something heating up his neck and forehead. “okay.” He’d only ever heard animals on the ranch be referred to as exotic. Sombra was exotic; black feathers gripped in Elijah’s hands, her yellow eyes reflecting the sun, claws sharp and long, skimming the surface of a lake, ripples spreading throughout the canyon. He imagined himself as a similarly exotic creature; caramel claws and brown feathers, dark irises narrowed at the group gathered around his cage, dipping his head in false modesty only to suddenly lash forward and snap his sharp beak onto somebody’s foolishly stretched out hand. ‘Awesome.’ It took him a moment to come back to earth, his lips resuming the teasing.
“Hah!” He bounded up off the couch, grinning at her. “You better try your absolute best! I don’t want you saying I didn’t beat you fair and square. Flight might be in your blood but you see these?” He flexed the barely existent muscles in his arm. “The blood of hunters runs through my veins.” He stalked closer, eyes narrowing, voice dropping dramatically in volume, a hushed whisper. “I have the eyes of an eag - no a haw - no,” He paused, considering. ‘Eagles have better eyesight... but hawks are cooler.’ He resumed his role. “My left eye is the eye of an eagle! My right is the eye of a hawk. My arms can strangle a bear.” He turned around to flop down on the couch again. “Basically, Sairahiniel,” He smiled to himself, the syllables slipping perfectly from between his lips. “I am awesome.” He twisted his body, overtaken by the massive need to stretch. “I’m going down to grab food.” He jumped up once again. “Unless you want to get something for me?” He grinned. “Remember, most likely, I’m going to be your captain someday.” He’d already decided that Sairahiniel should definitely be on the team as chaser. Scar-Girl was too much fun to be around, even more so than Waverly who was still high on his Pecari Girls That Are Fun to Bother list.
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Elijah
My idea was better.
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Elijah
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Sayre Light
April 04, 2012 9:36 PM
Maybe, but I don't think I'd make a good slave... by Sayre Light
Sayre tried not to gape when Elijah practically backflipped into the common-room chair. Whoa. Impressive. She snapped her mouth shut, settling back into a chair beside him."Don't let your tongue hang out!" The snippet of memory floated to the forefront of Sayre's mind. "You'll catch flies." Sayre's grandmother had always been sharp, cynical and thoroughly irritable most of the time, but she had also been a kind of mentor to Sairahiniel. But that was before. Before. Sayre shook her head slightly, trying to snap her attention back to what Elijah was saying. Something about his absurdly long family history.
"What, are you going to quiz me at the end of this, mate?" she asked, nudging him teasingly with her elbow. "Because if so, I'm gonna need to write this down. You a pureblood or something?" It was the only explanation she could think of, though Elijah was nowhere near as stuffy as she was lead to believe the purebloods were supposed to be. Nor as self-centered. In fact, Elijah seemed determined to know her every secret. Which was in no way shape or form allowed.
"There isn't much to say about me," Sayre said at his insistent pestering. "I'm Muggle-born, I - " she stopped, seeing him looking like he was about to poke her. Sayre cocked her head, glaring, her eyes clearly bearing the message: Poke me and die. "I lived with me mum, there really isn't anything else. Except for my special talent." Sayre leaned in real close. "I'm a mimic." She sat back, as if waiting for the wild applause. "Go ahead, say anything, anything at all and I can mimic it. And I'm pretty good with languages too." Sayre hoped that her little talent would be enough to keep him from asking any more questions. If she revealed anything more she might bring up...bring up how she got her scar.
She smiled at Elijah's odd reaction to her compliment. Was calling someone exotic something that one heard very much in Spain? It seemed like he pondered it for a good long while before deciding that exotic was a good thing. Sayre bit back a bitter chuckle. She wished that she looked exotic. Or even monochromatic. Anything but having a face out of a slasher flick.
"Lijah," she said, testing out the nickname before deciding that she liked it. "If you can't even decide what your eyes are equal to, I'm willing to bet the aren't as good as you think." She smiled, squeezing his arms that were apparently so impressive. "And if you want to strangle me like you might a bear, you got to catch me first." She laughed as he stretched like a giant cat working out its sore muscles. Blood of a hunter indeed. Sairahiniel almost laughed in his face when he tried to extort her into getting him food with a possible-captain taunt.
"Mate, being captain will win you no points with me. In case you haven't noticed, I have a bit of a problem with authority." Sayre grinned openly. "However, if you're hungry, I would be just delighted to accompany you to the buffet." She stood and held out her arm, inviting him to take it with a smile.
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Sayre Light
Maybe, but I don't think I'd make a good slave...
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Sayre Light
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Sophie Jamison
April 07, 2012 12:29 AM
Of course it isn't! by Sophie Jamison
As recently-deemed Assistant Captain, there was no question whether or not Sophie Jamison was signing up for Quidditch this year. Of course she was signing up! Of course, there hadn’t really ever been a question any previous term, either. Quidditch was a great, great thing.It was an easy way to get lost. When she was on her broom, she usually didn’t have the ability to think about anything except the game. Quidditch had a tendency to shut down brain function. Playing was what mattered. Winning was the goal.
Last year’s final had been an exception. Her head had not been in it; the blonde had been distracted by her situation. Her dad had still been missing, so that was a huge weight on her shoulders. Now that was lifted, and while there were still teenage girl kinds of distractions, it was hopefully going to be easier to focus this term.
She needed to focus. The Keeper couldn’t fail and except to be Captain next year. If she wasn’t a strong player, her authority would never be respected. Sophie kind of felt like she was at a disadvantage for respect because of her size and hair color—she didn’t exactly look like an athlete—so she pretty much had to demand it. Oh, her team would hate her as a Captain, just like they would probably hate Mel, but they would be better because of it.
Her hand dragged across the paper, leading the quill as she scratched her information across. Assistant Captain Sophie Jamison, fifth year, Keeper, appeared in the ink. Her hand writing could have definitely been neater, but it was curly in a semi-cursive blend. A crooked smirk crossed her lips as she read it over. Championship number two, here she came.
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Sophie Jamison
Of course it isn't!
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Sophie Jamison
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Elijah
April 07, 2012 10:15 PM
Don't underestimate yourself, you'd make a great slave! by Elijah
His eyebrows rose, previously unassuming of her muggleborn status. “Do only purebloods talk about their families?” He smiled. “Or is my regal bearing and obvious superiority a clear indication?” Any tension between purebloods, halfbloods, and muggleborns didn’t much interest Elijah. His grand-père was a squib and yet was capable of managing a magical creatures ranch. The only blood he cared about was Errantez blood. He caught her death glare and smiled brightly at it, raising his hands in a truce and leaned back. “You’re a...?” He thought for an excited second that she meant she was one of the rare Metamorphmagi. “Oh,” She meant she could do a parlor trick. “¿Qué tan bueno eres para los idiomas?” He grinned, testing her.He pushed off up from the couch, nose wrinkling at the nickname she’d given him, but decided for now to let it pass. “I have noticed you make a very bad minion.” He stuck his tongue out at her whilst simultaneously grabbing her hand and lightly tugging her along across the common room, through the passage. “Fine with me if you keep up the attitude. I'll just make you run a heck of a lot of laps when I'm captain." He grinned, something playfully feral in his eyes. “You can be the water girl AND you can fan me when the sun gets too hot. I’ll make great use out of you.” He let go of her hand stopping suddenly, face bright and staring nearly right at her. She was nearly as tall as he was, they were practically the same height. ‘Aren’t girls supposed to be shorter?’ A passing thought, one he’d revisit later. If he could shrink her he was sure he would like her even better.
“Time to test that speed of yours Señorita Sairahiniel Light.” He leaned in, grin widening, splitting his face, and his dark finger darted out, poking her in the side. “Race you!” He jumped backwards, fleeing any possible retaliation she might have, turned on his heel and shot off, darting down the hallway. He had experience on his side, his feet instinctively knew which corners to turn. Wind of his own making passed along his body, his curls falling into his eyes, robes flapping around his body, slapping his legs. He was hoping Sairahiniel was a kindred spirit, one who couldn’t resist a challenge. A group of students rounded the corner. Elijah flung himself to the side, loud laughter thrown from deep within his chest, hitting the wall, bouncing off, continuing to run again.
The doors to Cascade Hall were visible. Elijah bent his head, arms pumping, eyes narrowing, the carpet an endless sea passing beneath his eyes, vision blurred with ideas of upcoming victory. He wasn’t even sure if Sairahiniel was following (certainly not leading), if he was running alone, a race only against time, not a fellow student. ‘Almost there, almost there, almost there.’ He reached his hand out, nothing but air grazing his palm, and then THUMP he felt the wood of the door hit his hand. “Ahhhh...” He hissed, laughing through the pained expression his face made. He whirled around to see if Sairahiniel was around, following him or had she beat him?
ooc: If you want to continue the thread you can post your reply at Cascade Hall and I’ll respond there.
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Elijah
Don't underestimate yourself, you'd make a great slave!
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Elijah
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Amira Thornton
April 10, 2012 12:40 AM
I am your answer! by Amira Thornton
Amira was thrilled that Clara had been sorted into Pecari. It was odd to her the way she seemed to have changed herself with her younger cousin there in her house. She also had decided no more really stupid things were going to be done by her either. Clara being there in her house will be helpful in that regard and she knew it.Over the summer other than spending time with her family (including Clara and the other cousins), Amira spent lots of time going to one doctor after another. Once she got the all-clear she was all about Quidditch! She felt whole again, happy as a pig in slop. She had what she needed, the ability to play again and it had been on the piece of paper she’d given to Medic Bailey right after the feast. Now all that was left was for the new captain, Demelza Eagle, to put up the signups.
After the Opening Feast Amira had come back to the Common Room put her things away in her dorm and brought a book down to the Commons to see if she could catch Clara and see how she was doing. Instead, who did she see skipping across the room with a bright red poster in her hand, but MEL herself! The beater and captain put the red sign on the bulletin board and Amira smiled broadly at it. Bludgers, snitches and brooms were on it as were the words, Pecari Quidditch Sign Up along with a time and date for tryouts.
Mel called out to the room, "Hey! Quidditch sign-ups are up. So go sign-up!"
“You got it!” Amira said, pulling out her pen and added her name to the list, AMIRA THORNTON, THIRD YEAR, SEEKER
Amira grinned as she walked away from the board and went in search of her younger cousin.
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Amira Thornton
I am your answer!
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Amira Thornton
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Jade Owen
April 11, 2012 6:13 AM
The icing on the cake by Jade Owen
Over the summer, Jade had recounted her Quidditch victory to anyone who would listen, gradually polishing out the kinks and smoothing over the rougher patches until the story was one of remarkable fluency, only somewhat factually accurate, but in every way magnificent. It gave her a renewed vigor to return to school and repeat her performance, with yet more panache and gusto, creating a legacy for herself that would never be forgotten.Of course, she had conveniently forgotten that her time spent playing in games last year had essentially been borrowed. She had never been starting Seeker, despite catching the Snitch both times, and she doubted that Amira would go down without a fight. There was only one thing the second-year could really be sure of: Pecari hadn't won the championship the previous year, which meant she already had a better Snitch-catching record than Amira did. It was sad that the older girl hadn't been able to play because of her injuries, but maybe it was divine providence: if Amira had been well then Jade wouldn't have been able to play, and Pecari may well have lost again. Amira's sacrifice could be the key to a seven-year-long Pecari winning streak with Jade as the starting Keeper. Surely the older girl would be respectful of that?
Seeing Amira's name already on the sign-up sheet caused Jade's jaw to set in a fiercely determined line. First and foremost they should be a team, but when the position of Seeker was the prize, then she and Amira may as well have been mortal enemies. Jade would be prepared to fight for the death for the title... not that it would come to that, but if it did, she was sure she'd win. She was accustomed to getting her own way, and considering her way meant winning the Quidditch Cup, then maybe Amira should get accustomed to it, too.
With a thick-nibbed quill and too much ink that caused her text to stand out more than the others, Jade added her name and details to those already on the sign-up sheet: Jade Owen, second year, Seeker.
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Jade Owen
The icing on the cake
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Jade Owen
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