Crotalus Quidditch try-outs on Quidditch Pitch

Captain Charlotte Abbott

June 24, 2011 2:30 PM

Crotalus Quidditch try-outs by Captain Charlotte Abbott

Charlie had only continued with holding actual Quidditch try-outs just in case some student somewhere hadn't gotten round to signing up on the sheet in the commons for whatever reason. She was trying her utmpst to stay positive, but secretly she was losing faith in her team. She had to bully, plead with and eventually bribe Nic into signing up to play Keeper for the second time (his third year playing but he'd signed himself up last year). She thought he might actually be improving, and as long as they didn't play Aladren first it shouldn't knock his confidence.... or him off his broom. She also wasn't entirely convinced that Renée was going to play. The girl was hanging in a dangerous balance of family versus Quiddich, and while Charlie had gotten her to agree to come to try-outs, there was definitely the chance their crazy Chaser would have to bail before the season was out.

At least they still had Sam and Marissa, and Topher had come back, too. That was good - Charlie was worried that his first year on the team might have scared him off - it had been pretty intense - and he'd steadily improved all last year, in Charlie's opinion. They'd make a great beater out of him yet. So essentially there was just one Beater spot to fill, and as they'd had a new Beater sign up, the spot was pretty much his, but Charlie would be keen to have some reserves in an ideal world; they really could have used a spare player or two against Aladren last year.

"Okay," Charlie said when it looked like everyone had gathered. "This is the Crotalus Quidditch try-out, I'm Charlie, that's Marissa," she quickly covered the introduction for the benefit of the minority who hadn't been on the team last year. "If you haven't got your own broom, borrow one from the school," she gestured to the pile of better broomsticks she'd picked out earlier. She wasn't going to mention that Aladren's team would all be on high-quality brooms this year, thanks to the bane of her Quidditch existence Daniel Nash (she wouldn't be nearly so competetive without him as an opposing Captain, she was sure of it), because it would do nothing to boost her team's morale. "If we've got anyone here who didn't sign up, let me know who you are and what position you'd like to play. If you signed up, get on your broom and do some warm up laps so I can check you can all still fly after your summer slacking off." It didn't really occur to her that her attitude as captain might be what was putting players off signing up. She could have a laugh as easily as the next person when their team was in good shape, but right now they were falling apart at the seams, and she didn't have the optimisim to make light of the situation.

(OOC: Remember to stick to site rules and be creative when you post. If you didn't sign up then respond to Charlie, otherwise you'd free to get in the air and warm up as you choose.)

0 Captain Charlotte Abbott Crotalus Quidditch try-outs 0 Captain Charlotte Abbott 1 5

Marissa Stephenson

June 29, 2011 9:23 PM

I'm going to beat me at my own game. by Marissa Stephenson

One disadvantage of her new haircut Marissa had noticed within three hours of getting it was that it was virtually impossible to get it into a ponytail and make it stay. She had spent the last bit of summer constantly fiddling with clips, barrettes, and the backs of chairs to keep it off her neck whenever she wasn’t in the pool, to mixed success, and it had been an unusually hot bit of August even for Georgia. She had spent a lot of time thinking wistfully of Sonora for no reason other than the fact that she could use magic to put it up and keep it out of the way at school, where she could legally perform simple charms whenever she wanted. At home, she wouldn’t even be able to do that once she turned seventeen this spring, because it would be too obvious to Muggles that it wasn’t quite natural.

There were no Muggles on the Quidditch Pitch, though, so when Marissa came down to the Crotalus Quidditch try-outs, her hair was pulled up and unnaturally neatly so. Though she knew they were in kind of a bind as far as the team went, she smiled and greeted Charlie, falling back on habit: when in doubt, act as though everything was fine, until maybe she could convince herself and everyone else it was. Besides, it wasn’t like it might not be. They had apparently lost Phoenix and who knew what was up with Renée, but they did have seven out here, with two Beaters, two experienced Chasers, a Keeper who could Keep, just not on the level of some of the school hot shots – she supposed she was predisposed to defend Nic just a little, considering her track record both on and off the Pitch – and a Seeker. They could do okay this season, even win with a little luck.

Charlie, though, didn’t seem to share her optimism, or at least ability to half-convince herself she was optimistic. She told herself it hadn’t been meant exactly that way, but though she kept her smile on for the benefit of everyone else, Marissa could feel that she was blushing at the remark about slacking off all summer. She lived in the middle of a city full of Muggle college students, in a neighborhood full of doctors, lawyers, and tenured professors. Soccer and a combination of word finds and image find puzzles had really been the best she could do for practicing between the end of last year and the start of this one.

Still, though, she was the second person here, not the first. The second might say something to the leader in private, but not in front of the people, and Marissa knew she wasn’t likely to in private unless it got much worse. As it was, she thought she might be completely misinterpreting things - that might have been a joke, and she was just being too sensitive. That happened, sometimes. Focusing, she just got on her broom with everyone else and set off, flying around the Pitch fast, trying to beat her best time around the entire oval.

16 Marissa Stephenson I'm going to beat me at my own game. 147 Marissa Stephenson 0 5

Sam Bauer

June 30, 2011 9:48 AM

Good luck with that. by Sam Bauer

Occasional looks at the list had let Sam know that it wasn’t the best year for turnout that Crotalus had ever seen, and nothing he’d heard had made him think that Aladren had suffered a similar fate. It was not difficult, in this context, to figure out why Charlie didn’t seem to be in the best mood ever.

That, though, was Marissa’s concern and not his, because if there was someone on the team who could help Charlie out with that, it was her Assistant, not him. Sam’s concern was with getting through each game with a maximum number of pass completions and goals and a minimum number of broken bones, deep bruises, concussions, random trips to the Sahara, or other occasional nasty consequences of playing Quidditch. That was the way to stack his résumé – for the sake of looking like a successful person, rather than for any attempt to get onto a college or professional team; he knew, quite frankly, that he wasn’t that good – and at least half-look after his long-term health at the same time. Two-for-one deal. He liked it. So when they were told to just get in the air and make laps, he did that.

As he watched Marissa Stephenson move off ahead, one of their problems did rear its head in his head, though: speed. It was most important for her to have it, definitely far more important than it was for him to, but it would be less embarrassing for everyone if the team proper could get not run roughshod over by the opposing team while Marissa was taking care of the actual game. Plus, she was doing better than he was, but Marissa still wasn’t that fast.

Nothing he could do about it, though, at least as far as he could see. He guessed he could start making crazy long runs, like the ones that had been so in fashion last year, but Sam, as previously established, liked being alive and mostly intact. A few injuries didn’t bother him, exactly, he wouldn’t play Quidditch if he didn’t have some tolerance for pain and willingness to take a hit if it came to that, but he didn’t like them, either, and he sure wasn’t in it for the kind that didn’t really get better. Those, in fact, he tried to avoid. So no crazy long runs, especially if they were against Aladren. Even their little Beater was a kinda scary dude in his own way.

When Marissa passed him from behind, though, meaning she’d made a full round already, he did speed up. Maybe he wasn’t planning to do anything crazy, but that just didn’t look good, not when he hadn’t been close to her at the start.

16 Sam Bauer Good luck with that. 163 Sam Bauer 0 5

Renée Errant

July 01, 2011 2:46 PM

Big Decisions by Renée Errant

'... and if there's someone else already trying out for Chaser, step aside and then it's okay because Abuela will be happy, the team won't suffer, and then it will all be fine.' Gripping her Febre broom, Renée walked onto the pitch toward Charlie and the rest of the team, her spirit dampened considerably and her stride lacking its usual buoyancy. She was dismayed to see that try-outs didn't look so good, and that her decision whether or not to defy Soledad in favor of the team, or to betray the team in favor of an abuela who constantly demanded to be pleased, who seemed to love her but couldn't accept her, who was overbearing and had entered forcefully into her life and woven deceit into it and harm and who had twisted all perceptions Renée had ever held about herself, and about David, and about Marianna and perhaps had also tainted Gabriel with talks of - Charlie started talking and Renée really needed to breathe.

'Fly a little bit. One last flight and then tell Charlie you're sorry but you really can't. Because you simply can't.' She hadn't been slacking off completely. No summer pick up games but she'd flown through fields of Seville, down the dirt roads and had woven through the trees with cousins long before she'd even suspect she'd have to give up the pleasure. She swung her legs over now, feeling unnaturally heavy over the sleek wood she'd kept care of. She bent her knees, kicked off, and rose slowly through the air before leaning forward a little bit and started a slow lap around the pitch. The speed wasn't even enough to cause wind; her dark curls hung limply over her shoulders, framing her face. Marissa passed her, and she watched her go. Sam passed her, and she watched him go too. Unexpectedly, the Divination class they'd had together crept in her mind. Big decisions... but Sam had been wrong. She'd already made her decision to not continue on with Quidditch. Nothing more was up ahead. There was this lap, and the next lap and then that was it.

'Then no more of this pathetic flight. Make the last laps count.'

She was trembling now. She was almost afraid that she'd forgotten how to fly - truly fly. She leaned slowly over the broom until she was relaxed parallel to the horizontal wood, her knees tense, her thighs straining, and curls dipping past her ear. 'Make it count.' She shot off. Streaking past and racing everyone and no one, just herself. Wind was roaring in her ears and she was bored of circles. She wanted squiggles and zig zags, and curves and lines that wavered in and out. She dove for the ground just beneath another flier, and rushed toward the ground as if a golden glint was in her eye. She made a sharp turn up and rushed toward the stands. She let out a long string of laughter and released the broom from her tight grip, knuckles receding from white and heading back to deep tan, letting her arms fly up in excitement, pulling out of a potential crash with the stadium with only her legs steering the broom.

She flipped backwards and dove again, continuing around the pitch in dizzying colors and shapes and everything now was wind and that pleasant roar and then Charlie who was around and coming into clear sharp focus. "I'm in!" She blinked as she pulled up near Charlie, breathless with excitement and blinding confidence. Soledad melted away into the rushing background and Renée could only pause in her flight this one time and quickly, only enough to get Charlie to understand. "I'm so in." One last breath, one last laugh, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be the last flight. She was off again, looping around the stadium; free.

0 Renée Errant Big Decisions 0 Renée Errant 0 5

Nic Sawyer

July 07, 2011 3:16 PM

Doom doom doom doom doom by Nic Sawyer

At the end of last year, Nic had decided to drop Quidditch. First of all, he was lousy at it. The decision to not sign up again was at least in part choosing to quit before he got fired. He'd let in all but one shot against Aladren last year and he'd almost been more afraid of his own teammates at that point than he had been of the Aladren beaters. Or he had been until Edmond actually did come after him, and that was reason number two that he'd decided not to continue playing. He liked living. Dying was bad. He'd come far too close to Not Living for his peace of mind. His collar bone still hurt just before big storms. That kind of weather prediction wasn't supposed to happen to fourteen year olds.

So, anticipating a Quidditch-free year, he hadn't felt at all guilty for spending the summer on his skateboard instead of a broom (not that he could have ridden a broom in muggle Miami anyway). Then school started again, and Charlie gave him pretzels, and somehow his name was back on the roster.

And as if all the other reasons for quitting weren't bad enough, he was growing again. He hadn't even touched a broom yet this year and already his arms and legs were covered in bruises just from walking into walls, doorways, chairs, desks, and tables. Nothing ended where he thought it ended anymore and, even without the bruises, his bones ached.

Fortunately, Dad had foreseen this and sent him back to Sonora with enough potions to take care of that part of his growing pains. Dad had not provided him with a warning about the whole Getting Bullied Into Playing Quidditch Again thing, though. What good was having diviner parents when they didn't even tell you important things like that? Maybe he could have hidden from Charlie if he'd known.

Collecting a broom from the pile of school ones - even if he'd owned one, he probably wouldn't have brought it with him since he'd planned to quit Quidditch - and lurched into the air. He was not a fast or graceful flier. There was a solid reason even beyond his position preference that he was Keeper and not anything more mobile.

He flew a lap that would win no awards, but he'd been surprised at first that he was almost keeping pace with Renee - or he was, until Renee suddenly went crazy, but at that point he wasn't surprised anymore because suddenly he wasn't keeping up with her at all, and that was really the natural order of things.

1 Nic Sawyer Doom doom doom doom doom 165 Nic Sawyer 0 5