Here we go. on Quidditch Pitch

Coach Amelia Pierce

July 07, 2012 12:44 AM

Quidditch Final: Aladren vs Crotalus by Coach Amelia Pierce

Well, Amelia thought as she dragged the trunk of Quidditch balls out to the middle of the pitch for the season's final game, we had one year that wasn't Aladren-Crotalus as the season's finale. She had needed to pit them against each other in the first game of the season to achieve it, but it had shaken things up enough that neither team had won the championship last year.

Pecari hadn't made it back to the finals this year, though, which Amelia was honestly a little disappointed by. They had performed surprisingly well last year, and Miss Eagle had been working them very hard in practices. Amelia really hoped it wouldn't negatively impact Demelza's chances of going pro because the Pecari captain really was a very good beater and Sonora Quidditch hadn't boosted anyone into the professional leagues since she started coaching here and she was starting to get concerned about that.

But that was not what was at stake today. Today was Aladren versus Crotalus for the year's Quidditch Cup.

And today was such a beautiful day for it, too. The sun shone, large fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the sky providing patches of intermittent shade, and a light breeze blew, keeping things cool despite the warming Arizona temperatures. It would probably be unpleasantly warm in the afternoon highs later today, but it was still early enough in the morning that the overnight chill and the breeze kept things comfortable.

"Welcome to Quidditch Finale," she announced when it looked like the two captains were finished giving their speeches. With the weather fine enough that she felt no urgency to start (and therefore end) the game, and a match up that some of the older students might start to find dull soon, she felt inclined to dramatize: "We again have Crotalus in the red robes facing off against Aladren in the blue. Captain Wilkes of Aladren will be trying to return his team back to their winning streak, while Captain Bauer of Crotalus seeks to repeat what Pecari managed last year. The next few hours will determine which team will emerge with Sonora's Quidditch Cup. Captains, please shake hands."

After they had done so, she sent them back to their teams. She flipped open the trunk lid and released the bindings on the bludgers. They soared up into the air, and the snitch soon followed. Finally, she lifted up the Quaffle and raised her whistle near her mouth as she made her final remarks, "As always, game starts on my whistle and ends when a seeker catches the snitch. One. Two. Tweeeeet!" The whistle blew on the final count as she threw the ball into the air.

The final had begun.

Subthreads:

Here we go. by Captain Wilkes, Keeper with Captain Bauer, Chaser, Renée Errant {Chaser}, Preston. Beater , Topher Calhoun, Beater, Kitty McLevy Chaser, Arthur Carey, Chaser, Linus Macaulay, Chaser, Russell Layne, Chaser

Right, and here we go. by Cepheus Princeton, Seeker with Gareth Whitebriar-Beater , Thaddeus Pierce, Beater, Arnold Carey, Seeker, Coach Pierce

Quidditch? Oh yea... by Andrina Thornton, Aladren Reserve with Jay Carey, Reserve

Making my appearance by Paul Bennett, Reserve

1 Coach Amelia Pierce Quidditch Final: Aladren vs Crotalus 20 Coach Amelia Pierce 1 5

Captain Wilkes, Keeper

July 08, 2012 5:52 PM

Here we go. by Captain Wilkes, Keeper

Before the Pecari game, David had been afraid he was going to be sick. Being faced with the task of beating the only team which had beaten Aladren in years had been an intimidating prospect to say the least, and being completely and utterly convinced that the team was going to point the finger at him if they lost again had not helped, not in the slightest. He had occasionally thought he was going to go crazy before that game was over with.

Now, though, faced with Crotalus for the Championship again, but this time with the captain’s badge on his robes, David thought he knew what true terror was. After this, everything else – CATS, Concert, college, any of it – was going to be small potatoes, he was sure of it. This morning, he had thought about trying to fake sick to get out of it; last night, he had been half-convinced it would be better to go back home, back to people and situations it depressed him just to think about and were soul-killingly boring enough to be around that he understood why so many of his former peers were on drugs, than to get up this morning and play the game.

That thought, though, had been outrageous enough to snap him out of it, and he had found it possible this morning to pull himself together and face the game. There was nothing worse than the prospect of going home; he had yet to have anyone die when he wasn’t there, but since he had gotten good at viewing most of his family less as relatives than as freaks in a show he was forced to view twice a year, he thought he’d cope if and when it did happen a lot better than he’d cope with living there full-time again. There was nothing associated with not going home that he could not get over with time, but he didn’t think he’d ever get over going home again as long as he lived. Going into this game was, in his view, more or less like becoming a gladiator, but gladiators had some chance of survival. Going home to stay, to get sucked into the vortex of life as his family had always known it and expected him to like it when no one in their right mind would even tolerate it, would be the equivalent of cutting his own throat.

So here he was, facing the game, thinking that calling in sick, at least, would have been a really bright idea, the kind that won him a Nobel Prize for Sheer Genius-Levels of Intelligence. It was too late for that, though. There was nothing, David thought, quite like procrastination to make up for cowardice; if he waited long enough, he got pushed into a position where he had to just get by as best as he could, because running away wasn’t an option anymore.

“Okay,” he said to the team. “Here we are. Crotalus.” He didn’t know if they were expecting another long-winded and borderline hysterical speech like the one before the Pecari game, but if they were, they weren’t going to get it. He thought he was doing well to speak clearly at all. “The final. We’ve never lost to them, and I don’t want to start now, yeah? Being the team that always makes it to the final and never wins is their job.”

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing at his own weak joke. Not funny. Seriously not funny. “So let’s not do that. Let’s just go beat ‘em into the ground, okay? Nice and quick and then we’re home free.” Well, they were, anyway; he would be studying for CATS, but that was not their concern. Thank Merlin they did not have any seventh years; next year would be Samantha’s last year, which he didn’t like, but pretty much, he would be able to carry this team, the winningest-ever or whatever they said about them these days, to the end of his Quidditch career. That would be good. “And we’ll be back in the House Cup,” he added as an afterthought. “Seriously, guys, Teppenpaw? Not allowed to win the House Cup. Fawcett will cry himself to sleep over old pictures of the thing all year if we let that happen. I prefer not to think of that.” And now that he had given them that wonderful mental image to contemplate, he looked toward Coach Pierce, assuming she would interpret this as him being done with his speech so they could get this show on the road and he could avoid saying anything dumb…er.

He winced slightly as she tried, again, to get him killed by emphasizing the importance of the game, but he kept it in his head, his face frozen into an expression he thought was neutral but feared was more just generally strange as he shook hands with Sam Bauer. “Hey, dude, you fail,” he very cheerfully blurted out, then backed away before this could cause immediate damage to be done to his face. It wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing one ever, but it was his. He was still debating the merits and flaws of his nose when the whistle blew and it was time to run for the goals and hope the Aladrens were fully up to backing up his claims that they possessed unquestionable superiority.

16 Captain Wilkes, Keeper Here we go. 169 Captain Wilkes, Keeper 0 5

Captain Bauer, Chaser

July 08, 2012 6:50 PM

...Straight toward your sudden, yet inevitable defeat. by Captain Bauer, Chaser

Sam had no family there, no significant connections to any part of the entity at all, but when Aladren had played Pecari for the second time in as many years, he was sure he had been pulling for the Wild Boars as fervently as any wealthy old alumnus who donated money and broomsticks ever could have. He had wanted Pecari to win so much he had almost deluded himself into thinking it could happen, because Demelza Eagle or no Demelza Eagle, he would have infinitely rather played Pecari for the Championship than Aladren, again. He thought, at this point, that it was very likely that the Aladrens had started to get into his team’s head, and it would have been great to beat a comparatively easy opponent before they tried their hand against a demystified Aladren again.

It hadn’t worked out, though, and so here they were again, the two of them, one against the other. At least this time, there was absolutely zero chance of sexual tension between the captains. Not only was Sam reasonably sure that he preferred girls, but Aladren guys tended to be lacking a certain something in personality, sanity, or all of the above as well, and David Wilkes wasn’t an especially handsome specimen of the whacky breed to begin with, which reduced the chances of anything weird going on between the Aladren captain and Sam’s Assistant Captain – though Sam had heard some rumors that made him think Renee might be his companion in disdaining the dudes when it came to considering potential romantic partners. It wasn’t something he could just ask about, but he didn’t mind if it was true; it was something which would make the matter of Aladren-Crotalus romantic tension further irrelevant, which was, in his opinion, all to the good.

He was also pretty sure he was the first Crotalus ever to take a stance on that whole issue strictly on the basis of what was less likely to make his team lose to Aladren, but Sam had never claimed to be driven primarily by moral concerns. At least not where Crotalus and Aladren were concerned. He just wanted to beat them and be done with it, so he could take his RATS in peace and leave Sonora with at least one Quidditch Cup under his belt to bolster his college applications. If he got that, he didn’t care if the entire two teams then promptly began to resemble a show aimed toward thirteen-year-old girls.

“Welcome to the arena,” he said to his team as they gathered before the game. “Hope you all got a good night’s sleep, because I don’t feel like losing today. We can beat them, and we’re going to beat them.”

He looked around, making to meet each player’s eyes, ending with the most important one. “Cepheus, Arnold Carey is annoying,” he said. “Really, really annoying. He’s good at getting in people’s heads. Don’t let him. Gareth’s job – “ he glanced toward the other second year – “ is to try to knock him off his broom before he gets a chance, but if he starts running his mouth, or flying tricks, or anything else before Gareth can do that, do not let him get in your head. He can only beat you if you let him.

“Gareth, Topher – keep Cepheus in the air first, and then pick off any Aladrens you get a shot at around that, okay? Topher, you especially keep Stratford out of it, if you can. If you see his girl in the stands, hit a Bludger at her or something.” He expected Topher was level-headed enough to know this was a joke, but frankly Sam thought Nic was good enough now for a foul to be a triviality if it ended with Preston Stratford being too distraught to play his best game.

“Nic – me and the rest, it’s our job to keep you from having to do anything, but if they give us the slip, just keep doing what you’ve been doing. You can beat ‘em, and Chasers – we can beat Wilkes. Bear in mind he wasn’t even their first choice for anything, they just got stuck with him because Sam Hamilton dropped out for a year or two.” He noticed after the fact that he’d called her Sam Hamilton out loud, but ignored it. “Renee, Linus, we’re going for goals. Let’s knock some of the arrogance out of them.” A task which would be much easier if Renee could avoid personally antagonizing them until they wanted more than anything to beat her, but which he could not call her out on in front of the whole team. She was the Assistant Captain; she had to be seen a certain way by the rest.

“Okay, let’s go, team,” he said, wrapping it up. “Try to walk intimidatingly.”

He did his best to follow his own advice as they approached the other team and listened to the rules. During the handshake, David Wilkes suddenly spoke up, and for a second Sam just gave him a strange look before saying, “hey, dude, you’re weird.” He walked back to his own team and gave Renee a look. “Dude is weird,” he remarked in an undertone, just before kickoff.

He ceased to think much about the eccentricities of the Aladren team as everyone sailed into the air, his mind latching onto the Quaffle as his goal. It was just there, loose in the air, drifting back down, free for the taking. With a jolt that gave him an unpleasant, swooping sensation in his stomach that he had gotten used to ignoring a long time ago, he flew forward and snatched it out of the air, then turned to fly for the Aladren goals, keeping his eyes moving between the ground and the other players around him until he estimated he had covered a bit more than a third of the distance there and that he was not just handing it to an Aladren, anyway, which meant a straight, strong pass was in order.

16 Captain Bauer, Chaser ...Straight toward your sudden, yet inevitable defeat. 163 Captain Bauer, Chaser 0 5

Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

July 09, 2012 5:42 AM

Right, and here we go. by Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

Cepheus had never been so nervous for anything in his life up until this moment. Even the knowledge of having to face his furious grandfather during the winter holiday hadn’t sent his mind blank and his knees knocking. The thought of being the Seeker in the final match between Aladren and Crotalus, which was legendary at Sonora and usually ended poorly for his house, had put an unbearable burden on his thin shoulders. He had hardly been able to sleep a wink the night before, stressing himself out with thoughts of what to do if the opposing Seeker made a certain move or whether or not he should follow any false dives. His tumultuous head was full of different ways to catch the Snitch complete with his imagination.

He only slept around four in the morning out of pure exhaustion. The second year had a difficult time getting up that morning though he tried not to let it show to his room-mates as he dressed in his robes and readied himself for the day, his head swimming and his mouth dry. Father, who had been the Seeker during his time at school, couldn’t have been this nervous on match days, could he?

The walk to the pitch with his broom in hand was torturous. He would begin sweating any moment now even if it was blessedly cool for the time being. His hands were already shaking. The thought of failing so many of his fellow house-mates was devastating and he silently swore to himself that he wouldn’t let that happen. Of course, Cepheus was no Seer and couldn’t exactly swear something to himself one-hundred percent truthfully when he was shaking in his skin. He was not a parsimonious bloke when it came to wishing and praying, though, and he did so fervently as he listened to his athletic boots reverberate against the hard floor.

In due time, he was on the pitch which looked much too sunny and bright for such an important day. The robes felt stiff and suffocating on him and he pulled at the collar, blinking up at the bright sun. He rubbed the back of his blonde hair before smoothing it down again and grit his teeth as if he were stepping into something particularly painful.

He had specifically asked his mates to come and support him this year, ones in particular being Alicia and the two other Crotalus girls in his year, Shiloh and Alexandra. Alicia would most likely come to cheer on her house, but it would still be nice to have at least a few supportive faces in the crowd. Relatively supportive, anyway. He hadn’t exactly told them how nervous he was feeling days before the match, but he had told them to try and be there if possible. He’d even said please. Twice. Merlin, if Father saw how weak he had been this entire week he would be skinned. Metaphorically, of course.

Sam was giving his captain’s speech as he did before every match, but this one was weighted. Cepheus nodded sharply and swallowed. He hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt though he had paled considerably. He was rubbish at not allowing people to get into his head, but keeping his thoughts straight and his mind focused on getting the snitch, he knew he’d have some chance despite his age and lack of experience.

Arnold Carey was a force to be reckoned with on the pitch and Cepheus had the misfortune of being that one to reckon with him. Perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic, but it was warranted. He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, praying that his knees wouldn’t begin knocking again. Instead, he put all his energy into focusing on reigning in his emotions and focusing his mind. It very nearly worked until Coach Pierce blew the whistle.

By then he was up in the air already in position, but he still felt his stomach jolt as the final match for the Quidditch Cup began. He began flying around the pitch, having learnt to do nothing more and nothing less on the first round. He circled quietly, keeping his eyes open and focused. He didn’t want to fly around madly as he had the first match. Later on that day it had given him a bit of a headache and he did not want a replay of that. Well, not of the headache. A replay of the snitch-catching bit would be nice.

Swallowing down his nervousness, Cepheus was on circling the pitch for the second time when he managed to finally keep track of his opponent. He hadn’t had the mind to do so at first, but he was glad he was doing so now. Sam’s words of advice rang in his head and he steeled his mind to keep from being penetrated by petty words. Keep yourself focused, Cepheus told himself sharply. He reminded himself of his father and how disappointed Father would be if he came home for the summer with no victory story to tell. Then he regarded that as ridiculous and cleared his mind, blue eyes still peeled for the glint of gold that might reflect off the pieces of sunlight that strewn through the clouds.

0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker Right, and here we go. 0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker 0 5

Renée Errant {Chaser}

July 09, 2012 3:17 PM

Yep. by Renée Errant {Chaser}

Milk and nutella. Renée was fairly sure she didn’t need anything else in life. It slid down the back of her throat, soft and thick, sticky and satisfying, washed down by a cool flood of white. She wiped off the corner of her lips with her fingers, slipping them between her lips, sucking on them, flushed and excited for the upcoming game. It was the only beautiful thing she had at Sonora. The one moment of perfection, even when they didn’t win, even when they didn’t score, even when the eyes that passed along her form were filled with sparks of disgust, hatred, distrust, even from her own teammates, for reasons she learned to have fun imagining.

She was a sleepwalker; she rolled out of bed, eyes shut, breathing steadily, blindly finding her wand and pointing it at whomever passed by, curses slipping between her gently parted lips, and what felt like a dream was really her cutting someone open, torturing them, strangling their throats and dropping heavy blunt objects on their chests, smashing vases against the back of their heads.

She shared the body of a demon; when she wasn’t looking it popped out of the back of her head, rudely sticking its tongue out at people, whispering insults, giving crude gestures, popping back inside her body, so by the time she turned around she was looking at the lingering effects of her demon’s mischief.

She was the anti-veela; a rare being who begins giving off pheromones of hate the moment it reaches puberty. It draws people in, the chemicals emitting from its skin inhaled by surrounding victims whose negative parts of the brain spike up, electrocuted and heightened.

Anything was better than the alternative. The idea that she was simply un-likeable. No, that was okay. She found her classmates boring, oversensitive, each of them indistinguishable from the other, faded colors of brown and grey, with rare splashes of color like herself and few others, most of them who disliked her too... but it wasn’t dislike she felt, it was real hate. And that was interesting, and that was scary. The fact that she could inspire so much... feeling was powerful, was delicious, but was confusing, thoroughly bewildering, and alienating.

She almost liked, almost enjoyed the idea that she was alone on this little island of sonorans. Almost felt honored by the hatred crashing over and over and over again, trying to drown her, pull her down all the way to the bottom of the sea. Flattering and the drama of the moment was something she thrived on... except she wasn’t thriving, she was flattening, sunken deeper inside herself, lips sealed, and when she wasn’t quiet her voice was soft, unwilling to be accidentally thrown into yet another bad interaction with another person. The words she used were never the right ones. Easier not to speak. Easier to slip into fantasies where she could control the reasons for why she was so alone. She didn’t want friends, she didn’t want to be liked, she didn’t want to be not hated - she just wanted to be control of why.

‘I’m in control now.’ She wiped her fingers on the crimson robes she wore, draping her form, stepping away from her goblet of milk and small shallow bowl of nutella. ‘Let this game last forever. I never want my feet to touch the ground.’ Cascade Hall, walking down steps, outside to the pitch, a few stray clouds but not enough to block the sun greeting her dark skin, a soft bronze tone illuminated in the light, and in the open air environment she could let her lips spread into a smile, she could imagine she was beautiful, she could really believe it was true.

She went into the lockers only to get her broom, the Nightingale thin, dark, sleek, and she missed her old broom but this one was nice too. Different, alien, a twin soul on this little island she was stuck on. ‘Not for long. Blow the whistle. Let me rise. Let me be free.’ The team marched out onto the pitch, Samuel gathering them up, ready to make a speech. She stood off a little to the side, trying not to fidget, shifting from one foot to the next, aching for freedom. She gave a little attention to his words, to his instructions, but she knew she would never do the same. She was given the title of Assistant Captain, the inevitable promise of Captain, because she was a good chaser and would be soon the oldest player on the team. But those weren’t good enough qualities. Charlie had been fearless, respected, admired. Marissa had been... not hated and Sam was, Renée thought, liked just enough. But she didn’t know her team, didn’t really want to know her team, their faces and names jumbled in her mind while stuck on the ground. And when they flew she knew them as Beater, the other Beater, Seeker, with Nicodemus, Samuel and Linus as the only ones she was actually familiar with.

‘Linus,’ She nodded her head automatically as Samuel mentioned her name, not listening. ‘He can be Captain when Samuel leaves.’ She made a mental note to suggest it (through a small note, she knew better than to approach Samuel outside the pitch, better to leave him alone, all of them alone, and delve deeper into warm fantasies) after the match. Then she could just enjoy being free. Left alone, her and the Quaffle and the hoops, the variously colored birds flapping their wings beside her, all of them passing, intercepting, chasing after the goal.

Crotalus and Aladren started moving toward one another, the Captains finishing their speeches, extending their arms, shaking hands, and Renée blinked as Samuel briefly spoke to her, his voice low. “...okay.” She swung her legs over the Nightingale, bending her knees and kicking off, and she hadn’t even noticed her liberation, the conversation running over and over again in her head, the dialogue stretched in neon red across her mind. ‘Was that what I should have said? How did he want me to respond? Should I be doing something with that information? Okay, so he’s weird, he’s weird, wait - who? Oh! Right, the Captain. The Aladren Captain. His name? Um... oh! No, that’s not it. He’s the Keeper though. Wilkes! Okay, so, he’s weird. And... so, Samuel told me, so I’m not weird? Does he not think... ah, here he is, here he is, and we’re in the air now, and we’re flying now, and he has the...’

He had the Quaffle tucked in his arm, and Renée was fast forwarded, shoved into the present, blinking rapidly as warm air blasted against her dark face, pulling up alongside Samuel and he was turning, his body angled toward her. Slap she had the Quaffle in her palm, an easy pass through the air, and they were flying somewhere... they were flying toward Aladren, right, and Wilkes, who was weird, and maybe that meant Renée wasn’t since it didn’t make sense to tell a weird person that another person was weird. Unless that was a suggestion on Samuel’s part that maybe if she wanted someone to be weird with then there was Wilkes, right up ahead, a little way down the pitch. The pitch that she was... flying through, right, and needed to pass through, pass the Quaffle through, her mind jumbled and confused while her body worked on instinct.

A flap of crimson robes at the corner of her eye. Her arm raised, body turned, a quick chest pass through the air, a little ahead of her teammate, enough room for them to fly into the catch. Her mind had yet to register the other opposing chasers. Her world felt very small, only a few people occupying it. She wasn’t much aware of the wind rushing through her form, carrying her along, the space between her and the ground. Maybe she was walking, she couldn’t tell, maybe this was a dream. She was torturing someone in real life, just didn’t know it. ‘Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.’

0 Renée Errant {Chaser} Yep. 0 Renée Errant {Chaser} 0 5

Preston. Beater

July 09, 2012 7:22 PM

Nananaaananaaaa by Preston. Beater

Preston had been focused on three things for the last year: Quidditch, Sara and studies. Not necessarily on that order. It had come to a place where the Aladren was quite stressed about things, because he felt he had no time to do what he wanted and needed. Preston had started sleeping less hours at night to be able to spend his time catching up with his studying. The fourth-year was taking every class available, except Muggle Studies. There was no way in the world that would make Preston Gerard Stratford take a class that would demean his status as a pureblood.

The redhead had come to realize that has thought wandered more often than not into Saraville. Little by little Preston had become a tad bit dependent on his time with his girlfriend. There was something about Sara that made the Aladren relax a little bit about life and that was something that in the long run helped him focus on what really mattered. Sara had become his relaxation compass, and he was glad for it. Otherwise he would be hardly sleeping with bags under his eyes to show for it and his roommates would probably have evicted him for his nocturnal wanderings.

He yawned as he entered the pitch. He was tired, but he was sure that as soon as he went up into the air the adrenaline would wake him up. He was glad for the optimal weather conditions for the season’s finale. Once again they were up against Crotalus, and he wanted to crush them. Last year’s loss to Pecari still lingered in his mind, because he was sure they had the better team, but Pecari had a struck of luck. It couldn’t be anything else.

He waved at the Aladren congregated team and listened dutifully to Captain Wilkes’ speech. The joke about Crotalus at the end made him smile. It was funny because it was true. However, he couldn’t deny that they had a good team and the competition between the two houses was legendary. He loved being part of the legend, but he still had to make a name of his own as a fearless beater.

Preston nodded to David and got on his broom to start the blood bath. As soon as he heard the whistle, he zoomed into the air and looked for the bludger. He located one and sent it directly towards Renée. The sound of the bat colliding with the metal ball made him grin to no one in particular. Preston felt powerful, and he liked it. It was a feeling he didn’t really feel at home.
The Crotalus chaser was one of the best players in the Crotalus team and she needed to be thwarted on her attempts to score.

0 Preston. Beater Nananaaananaaaa 0 Preston. Beater 0 5

Topher Calhoun, Beater

July 12, 2012 12:05 AM

Oh, that's mature. by Topher Calhoun, Beater

For a moment, right after waking up, Topher had had a feeling that there was something he was supposed to do that he wasn’t remembering, something that was the reason why he was waking up this early on a day when he didn’t have classes, but then it had come back to him what it was. Then, as he’d gotten up, the only thought he’d been able to muster was here we go again.

Once he’d had it, though, he’d shaken his head to clear it. No, here they did not go again. Here they went for the first time after the program had been abruptly shaken up last year, with Aladren losing the final game to Pecari. Admittedly, they had come back strong from that loss, but that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that they had lost - and that now, coming back, they didn’t have Edmond around anymore.

That alone was enough to raise Topher’s mood about the game, anyway; the Beaters weren’t people the non-players, or even the other players, usually thought of as endangered by the other Beaters, but his shoulder still nearly ached in memory when he thought about some of their more memorable interactions. In the Pecari game, he had noticed that Thaddeus Pierce, a second year, had been covering Arnold; while a second year was no one to disregard completely, since Topher had been the same age during some of the craziest games they’d ever had, he still wasn’t the same thing as having to deal with Edmond Carey. At worst, he and Gareth would be an even match and the Seekers would emerge from the brawl unscathed; at best, Aladren would completely lose control of the Bludgers.

Hopefully, hopefully. There was no predicting what would happen, though, until it started happening, and he had to be ready when it happened. So he stopped thinking about strategy and started thinking about finding his gloves.

He made it down with plenty of time to spare – a good thing, he thought, for his chances at becoming Assistant Captain after Sam left; he knew it wasn’t much, but every little bit would help – and nodded when he came up in the speech, smiling grimly at the suggestion that he hit a Bludger toward Sara Raines. It wasn’t something he could do, not under most circumstances, not least because she was tiny and would be hard to see in the stands, but Stratford having a meltdown right there on the Pitch was not an unamusing visual.

The whistle blew, and Topher swooped around in a wide circle, seeking a Bludger and an Aladren to hit it at. And, of course, Preston’s position on the Pitch, so he could keep him out of the Seeker game. Of those things, he spotted the other fourth year Beater first, just as he hit a Bludger toward Renée. Topher flew forward, intercepting it not too far from its target and changing the direction just a little, toward one of the Aladrens. He didn’t even really register which one it was, or care; off the Pitch, Russell was a friend, he didn’t know Kitty, and there was something about Arthur that rubbed him the wrong way, but out here, it wasn’t like that. It was just what did or did not help Crotalus in the game.

Pretty nice, if he said so himself. The Aladrens were pretty accomplished at avoiding the Bludgers, but he thought he had a good shot at a hit – something he badly needed, after the Amazing Untouchable Thornton Girl last game slightly hurt his credibility.

0 Topher Calhoun, Beater Oh, that's mature. 0 Topher Calhoun, Beater 0 5

Preston. Beater

July 12, 2012 4:39 PM

Very much so, yes. by Preston. Beater

Preston knew Topher from clases, though the redhead had never actually had a full conversation with him about anything. Now that he thought about it he knew nothing about him, which was something that needed to change if he wanted the headboyship in the near future. It would be a lie if Preston said that he wasn’t nervous about the Prefect announcement. The idea of losing to someone other than Arthur – Preston only saw Arthur as his direct competition – was just embarrassing.

It was an understatement to say that the Aladren was competitive. He liked to win; he was used to win, especially since his immediate family made it kind of easy for him to think of his superiorness. His relationship with the other Aladren boys was based on that and friendship, but he wanted to top them all. Part him told him that it was irrational to think like that, but the greater part of him propelled him to find his own path and the only way he knew was to excel in what he was good at.

However, it wasn’t time to think about things he couldn’t really control while in the middle of the Quidditch final. The air was refreshing him, but the sun was impairing his already bad eyesight. Preston squinted and saw that Topher had sent the bludger away from Renée. The redhead narrowed his eyes and dived into the bludger’s path. He was not going to let his team be hit by a Crotalus Beater.

His bat made contact with the deadly ball, but he almost missed due to the sun annoying shining directly in his face. Thankfully, he didn’t, but the bludger had an odd path.

0 Preston. Beater Very much so, yes. 0 Preston. Beater 0 5

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

July 12, 2012 8:42 PM

End it quickly please by Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

Finals. Merlin, this can’t possibly be good for my health the large 12 year old thought as his stomach twisted in to complex knots. Gareth forced himself to remain still, and not to fidget uncomfortably or flee to the locker room to get sick. Not that there was anything to sick up, but the feeling persisted none the less. Vaguely he noticed that the sky was fairly clear, and it didn’t feel too terribly hot. Good, better than rain. He hated flying in the rain.

Gareth’s pale blue eyes took in his teammates, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of kinship with Cepheus, who looked about as nervous as Gareth felt. We can do this, we did it the last game, we will do it now. All we have to do is focus, guard, keep the opposing seeker from catching the snitch he thought, forcing his own nerves to the background of his mind. The Crotalus wasn’t skilled enough in self control to banish them entirely, but the least he could do was not give in to them completely and loose his head. All he had to do was keep things in perspective. He wasn’t facing off against Aladren’s terrifying beater this year, thank Merlin for that. And, last year he’d managed to hit the Seeking Carey even with his massive guard to contend with. I am not terrible at this, I will help our team win and make father proud of me.

Gareth’s wandering attention snapped to Sam’s face when the Captain began speaking and he gave a sharp nod of understanding upon receiving his directions. Keep Cepheus safe, eliminate Arnold and any other Aladren’s that ventured into his sphere of influence. He could do that, he could focus just on that and let Topher handle the Aladren beaters, and not let his nervousness about the importance of this game make him ill.

When the whistle blew, Gareth launched himself off the ground before his instincts could scream at him not to do it. That was a trick he’d taught himself long ago, a quick launch could fool his mind for that crucial moment where the fear nearly overcame his will and froze him on the ground. That could not be permitted to happen, not today, not for the finals, and certainly not in front of the entire school. He would not shame himself by giving in to such weakness.

The wind of his assent was loud in Gareth’s ears, but he ignored the unpleasant sound as his sharp eyes watched Cepheus before turning to his second point of focus. There, he thought he saw the Aladren Seeker, and with swift, deliberate motions, he stalked the enemy as he tracked down a bludger. Topher and the larger of the two Aladren beaters were in a contest over one of the bludgers, but the other trailed high, and Gareth suppressed the soft curse he wanted to give as he forced his broom higher to capture it. Finally he closed with the large iron ball, and with a harsh swing that contained a great deal of nervous energy as well as his natural strength he sent the ball flying towards the blue robed Seeker.

0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater End it quickly please 0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 0 5

Kitty McLevy Chaser

July 12, 2012 9:08 PM

You two are great distractions by Kitty McLevy Chaser

The tiny third year giggled under her breath as she bounced with glee. All was right in her world. Her friend Laurie was her friend again, and they made it to the finals! Thank goodness they managed to defeat Pecari. That just proved that last year was some sort of weird fluke due to the Coach messing up their mojo by making them play Crotalus first. But now everything was right again, the sky was a brilliant blue that perfectly matched her eyes, there were white fluffy clouds that Kitty’s fingers itched to touch, and there was Laurie.

She didn’t know if her friend was watching or not, but she hoped so. While his family was horrible and mean, Kitty knew she’d do whatever she needed to do to stay friends. Even if that meant hiding her friendship with him. The Aladren didn’t want Laurie to get into trouble just for being her friend, something she still had a difficult time understanding, and she hated having to sneak around just to see him. But, she still hoped he was watching. We’ll win!

David would never be Daniel. It was hard for Kitty to forgive him for that. With Daniel, Kitty felt like he was a grand leader guiding his team into battle. But David was more like an awkward accountant who’d been tossed into the general’s spot by mistake and it was too late to take it back. He just wasn’t very inspiring. Then again, Daniel had been a seventh year, a TV star, and basically amazing. He’d been the first person she’d spoken to when she entered the Magic world and Kitty highly doubted anyone would ever live up to him as captain in her eyes. Still, even if David wasn’t the best for the position, it didn’t matter. She could feel it in her heart, today was the day that Aladren returned to their coveted position as the best!

The whistle blew, and Kitty leapt skyward. A small growl escaped her pink lips when she didn’t quite make it to the Quaffle in time, and again when it was passed off the wrong way and she couldn’t intercept. She tilted her head slightly as she watched Renée. The girl was one that Kitty secretly envied, her flying skills often outstripped Kitty’s as well as her other team mates. It was hard to keep up with her and she didn’t often take the direct route in her plays. She was delightfully hard to predict, and it added spice and challenge whenever she got control of the Quaffle. But, something was off about the older girl’s movements. She seemed almost sluggish in the air, and Kitty nibbled her bottom lip as she followed, keeping a bit higher and a tad behind, trying to stay out of sight. On a normal day Renée probably would have noticed such a tactic and shaken her off, but today didn’t appear to be a normal one. Kitty found it worrisome, but now was not the time to worry about rivals. Instead, when the red orb parted from Renée’s fingers Kitty dove down from above and snatched it out of the air. She continued the dive, ending in a frightened barrel roll to the left when she heard the sharp crack of bludger on bat.

By the time she righted herself and was headed in the right direction, Kitty found that Preston had come between her and the dark ball. Huffing a small sigh of relief at being saved, though slightly annoyed at having to depend on others to do the saving, Kitty pushed her broom faster towards the red goals. The spot between her shoulder blades began to itch painfully and Kitty twisted slightly to the right before shooting the Quaffle towards the blur of blue she saw out of the corner of her eye.

0 Kitty McLevy Chaser You two are great distractions 0 Kitty McLevy Chaser 0 5

Thaddeus Pierce, Beater

July 12, 2012 10:29 PM

I'm sure Arnold will take your wish under consideration by Thaddeus Pierce, Beater

Thaddeus was oddly not worried about the Final. He thought he should be. It would determine the winner of the Quidditch Cup. He was still expected to fill Edmond's shoes. Crotalus was commonly believed to be a harder team to beat than Pecari. But Crotalus did not have Demelza Eagle on it. The largest beater there was in fourth year, and the one covering the seeker, if the last game was anything to judge by, was Gareth.

He was sure Gareth must be a good beater. He had made first string in his first year. But Gareth was a second year like Thad was, and nowhere near as scary as Demelza. If anything, Thad thought the two Crotalus second years had better cause to fear him. He was the guy who jumped off his broom during a casual game of Chasers On Keeper to stop a Quaffle from going through the hoop. At the time, that was all he had intended to do, but if it now made them think he was a little crazy and altogether too gung-ho on a broom, he'd take it.

So he ate breakfast with hardly a flutter in his stomach, then made it out to the Pitch with a comfortable window for warm-ups before David's pre-game speech. He wasn't sure it was the most inspirational of sports speeches, but it achieved the goal of making Thaddeus determined to let Crotalus again be the one to make it to the final and never win.

Soon, the whistle blew and Thad kicked off. Preston headed for the Chasers, so he returned what was clearly becoming his position as Arnold's protector. Unfortunately, Gareth seemed to find the bludger first and Thad had to prove he was at least competent at said position. Moving between his seeker and the incoming iron ball, Thad pulled the same move he had used against Demelza, only with less pain and backward force. The bludger spun aside, most of its momentum lost after its collision with Thad's bat.

Hitting it again, this time to gain control of it, Thad moved to position himself so he had a good line at Cepheus. The third contact between his bat and the bludger resounded with a loud thunk and the bludger screamed off toward the seeker wearing the red this time.

0 Thaddeus Pierce, Beater I'm sure Arnold will take your wish under consideration 0 Thaddeus Pierce, Beater 0 5

Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

July 12, 2012 10:51 PM

You’ll be disappointed when you loose by Gareth Whitebriar-Beater

Before his strike could find its mark the new addition to Aladren made himself known by stopping it. Not just stopping it, but then having the gall to send it back towards Cepheus. Gareth’s lips dipped into a scowl as he took his place between danger and his Seeker. He’d heard rumors about Aladren’s new beater, rumors that even before joining the team he’d inherited the inherent insanity that seemed to plague the members draped in blue. He’d seen for himself, back when they’d first started how the mad boy had leapt of his own broom to stop a Quaffle from scoring when they were just playing around.

Gareth refused to be put off by sheer madness, but he also didn’t want to go head to head with such psychosis either. That insanity made his opponent impossible to judge. No, it was best to remove the source of conflict now. With a grim smile Gareth brought his bat around and struck it hard, not towards Arnold again, but away from their little tangle back towards the bulk of the game and the chasers. The knot of chasers were to close together for him to target, or even for him to guide the metal ball only towards the offensive blue team. He hoped that if it did go after one of his team mates that they had the good sense to get out of the way.

Turning back towards Thaddeus he gave the boy a mocking salute with his bat before turning to ghost after Cepheus again. He took his guard duty seriously. Should it be required of him he would take a hit meant for his team’s Seeker just as he had in the last game. Not that he thought Thaddeus would be able to put him in the position that Derry maneuvered him into in the last game. But, the madness was still worrisome and it was a factor that had to be kept in mind as the game progressed. We will not lose because I faltered in my duty he thought grimly as he kept a sharp eye out for any retaliation Thaddeus might offer.

0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater You’ll be disappointed when you loose 0 Gareth Whitebriar-Beater 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

July 13, 2012 6:10 PM

He doesn't have to worry about that by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Last year, Arnold had thought it was Jade’s age which made him feel all wrong about taunting her and trying to get into her head during the game, but this year, it hadn’t bothered him much at all once they actually got into the game. When, then, he found himself feeling strange about the prospect of interacting with the Crotalus Seeker, who was the same age and another guy besides that, he had come to a conclusion about himself. It wasn’t girls, or younger people, or anything like that which he didn’t like playing as much; it was just new people.

Now that he knew that, he didn’t know if it was going to make it easier to ignore it, but it did make him feel better about the game in general, relaxed and confident. He joked with his brother and his other roommates as they got ready, cheerfully greeted the rest of the team as they all got together, and even smiled at David’s…he thought those were supposed to be jokes, sometimes it could be hard to tell with other Aladrens. He thought it was, though, supposed to be funny to picture Professor Fawcett weeping over pictures of the House Cup. It did, though, make him just a bit more determined to get the Snitch today, to prove that he wasn’t becoming overconfident and, as the captain had mentioned, get them back into the competition for the House Cup.

He was good at this. He had proven that over and over again. This was the one thing he was really good at, and today, he just had to be good at it again. Against an unfamiliar Seeker, but looking at it logically, like an Aladren, that should mean he had even more of an advantage. Seekers didn’t tend to last very long at the professional level, but he was fifteen now and only at school, surrounded by second year Beaters, so Arnold thought he still had a while before he was too old for it anymore. He had gotten taller over the past two years, but he still was not that tall. Arthur was nearly a head taller than him.

Coach Pierce said a few words – Arnold threw in a wave to the crowd when Aladren’s attempt to reclaim its dominance came up, then offered a much more subdued nod to the Crotali he knew across the way, which was…the Beaters, now, but he didn’t see them trying to stop him during the game as a reason not to be friendly outside of it – and then they kicked off. Arnold went straight up before leveling out sharply and flying around in a smooth loop for a moment, which was both a bit showy and gave him a minute to assess how the game was going. It looked like Crotalus had the Quaffle, so his brother was probably grinding his teeth right now, but other than that, things looked good right now.

Cepheus Princeton looked a little disorganized, so Arnold took advantage of the opportunity to look for the Snitch when he thought he might not have too much interference if he spotted it. Ending the game in the first few minutes, something he had come close to doing against Pecari but had never actually done, would cause a lot of confusion on the Pitch and make a lot of people go back to their Houses feeling they had been short-changed, but if he could spot it, he might just go for it anyway, or at least try to lead Cepheus away from it….

There was a crack of magically reinforced wood on metal, and Arnold turned to find the Bludger and avoid it, but Thad was in the middle even as Arnold did that and the Bludger was just as quickly moving off toward Cepheus. He grinned, approving, not as concerned for Thad’s well-being as he had been in the last game. Gareth Whitebriar was fair, not like a second year against Demelza – it hadn’t bothered him so much when it had been Topher, who was his age, against Edmond, but well, Edmond had been on his side, and Topher had never reminded him a little of Anthony. Those things made a difference.

He frowned slightly when Gareth hit the Bludger back toward the Chasers, not sure what he was doing, but then he shrugged and went back to looking for the Snitch. If there wasn’t a Bludger in the area, that meant he was going to have an easier time for a few minutes. He couldn’t complain too much about that. He didn’t usually mind a hit or two, it was just the game and Bludgers in the area made things more interesting, but the point, after all, was all about just finding the Snitch before Cepheus could.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker He doesn't have to worry about that 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser

July 13, 2012 6:13 PM

They're very amusing, yes, but let's focus... by Arthur Carey, Chaser

Various muscles across his shoulders and down his left arm were aching slightly, the by-products of another night when he had not slept as well as he would have liked, but Arthur did his best to ignore them except for occasionally opening and closing his hand, hoping this would work out the kink near his wrist, as he got ready for the game. As long as his head did not hurt, which today it did not, he did not have a serious problem, and it didn’t really matter even as far as, with the entire game riding on his twin’s shoulders, what he did in the games usually did.

Arnold seemed to be in good spirits, which Arthur, though he grew tired of it on a personal level before they even left their dormitory for the morning, was pleased to see. He had been quieter than usual, off-balance, before the Final last year, and they had lost that one. That could not happen again. It irritated him that there was even one blemish on his brother’s record, one place where Arnold hadn’t excelled, and two losses would be much worse than one. That couldn’t happen; he’d have to switch positions with Thaddeus next year if that happened, and that, Arthur had seen enough evidence to be convinced, would not end well.

At least, if the pattern held, there wouldn’t be a decent Beater anywhere near Arnold during this game. And Arnold did not much mind Bludgers, either. It occurred to Arthur that he was nervous, and he was not sure why.

Mr. Wilkes’s attempt at a speech was, if nothing else, a useful distraction from that. Arthur looked at him, his face perfectly blank, for the length of it, trying to figure out if it was meant to be an actual speech or if the actual speech was yet to come. He did not like Mr. Wilkes because he considered him a poor representative, but after a year of seeing how he lead a Quidditch team, Arthur thought he would also be wise not to trust him. Clearly, the man was hovering on the border of some kind of psychological break; he was not coherent, nor consistent. Last game, his main priority had been mutilation, and now he was babbling about the House Cup and Teppenpaw.

He smiled very slightly at Coach Pierce’s attempted dramatization of the event, which covered for needing to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from telling Arnold not to be an idiot and Katrina to calm down, and then they were in the air. Mr. Bauer took the Snitch, and then Miss Errant kept it when Arthur was too slow, but then, in what momentarily felt like a hail of Bludgers, Katrina emerged victorious, the ball bright against her small hands. Arthur was mildly surprised, but as long as they had the ball, he did not care how they came to have it, and when Katrina passed, he pulled it from the air and continued the rush toward the Crotalus goals, holding the Quaffle securely beneath one arm and ensuring his seat on his broom with the other. On, on, keep an eye on the Beaters, they seemed to be having a good time today, on….There!

He turned and passed, the ball a reddish blur in his vision as it arched away from his hands and toward another blue robe. There it went. There they went. They were going toward the goal. They’d have it in just a moment. It would happen again and again this game. He was sure of it now, in this moment. Optimism was often strangely easy in the moment of a pass, even for him.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser They're very amusing, yes, but let's focus... 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

July 18, 2012 3:19 PM

That's good to know. by Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

The wind was in his hair, the timid sun warming his face, and Cepheus thought briefly of the country. Home. Being in the sky was like being at home; comfortable and isolated. Cepheus enjoyed it as much as he enjoyed looking down at society so far from him. He wanted someone to invent a larger broom someday so they could have picnics and the like in the air. Flying was a little bit of home that Cepheus could take with him anywhere. That was only recreationally, of course.

The scene from above was forgotten in competition as he tried to beat the other team in whatever he was doing, whether it be racing or going through obstacle courses. Quidditch was even worse not only because there were more people, but there were bludgers and loads of people watching him. He was getting used to it the longer he was up in the air, but the scenery was secondary to the glint of gold he so longed to hold.

Cepheus only briefly watched as Gareth hit a bludger towards Carey before his eyes searched the skies for the gold. He flew a bit higher, slowly so he wouldn't miss anything, and didn't realise that something had been flying towards him until he heard the crack of a bat much too close. He jumped at the sound and his head whipped towards it, watching as the bludger that he assumed had been heading towards him flew another way. His arms shook as he gripped his broom tighter and flew a little ways away from the opposing Seeker. Cepheus's nervousness had ebbed away for a moment, but it was all back now.

It was difficult not to show a bit of fear when he was in the midst of a match. The Chasers flew like mad down below as Cepheus tried not to get in their way, avoid bludgers like the plague, and find the snitch all in one go. He flew towards the north side of the pitch, eyes still searching. Carey wasn't bothering him yet, but Cepheus didn't allow himself to get too comfortable just yet.

Getting too comfortable didn't seem to be a problem, really. He was getting anxious to see any glint of gold; perhaps too anxious. He wanted to prove himself worthy of competition and worthy of being considered a real opponent. Cepheus had always had a bit of a complex, being shorter than most of his peers and smaller in frame. He looked much younger than he actually was which was both a curse and a blessing. Cepheus swallowed nervously.

He was ready to fly after a sharp glare before he realised that it was only the light reflecting off the centre ring. Curse sunny days. Cepheus took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself and his muddled mind before flying lower. He looked down at the grass, wondering if a Snitch would go down there before snapping his eyes to attention again. 'Really Cepheus,' he thought to himself, 'if you can't pay attention when you're in the match, how do you expect to win and prove yourself a fantastic player?'

'Not by talking to myself,' Cepheus mentally replied, grumbling, and flew a little lower. It was a mistake to do that because he saw a glint of gold too late above him. Just as he rose on his broom, his heart now in his throat, the glint zoomed off to one side and disappeared. His heart was still in his throat and Cepheus cast a glance at Carey, wondering if he was going to follow it or if he had even seen the Snitch, if it had been the Snitch at all. Perhaps following his opponent's lead would be smart since Carey was more experienced and bigger than he. Of course, that usually meant that Cepheus was going to fall behind despite the speed of his broom and he didn't want that at all. No, it would be better to look for it himself.

0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker That's good to know. 0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

July 18, 2012 9:53 PM

Will it comfort you after you lose? by Arnold Carey, Seeker

As he took another turn and, once more, found that nothing directly relevant to his game was in his way at the moment, Arnold took a moment to assess the other Seeker’s broom and measure it against his own. The answer he came up with was that they were probably close; he had heard that the new Crotalus Seeker was from some well-to-do overseas family, and the well-to-do part, at least, was looking true. In a race, it might be a close thing, especially since Arnold was even surer that he was heavier than Princeton. They were both on the small size for their ages, but Cepheus’ age happened to be two years, maybe something even closer to three if their birthdays fell out in just the wrong way, lower than Arnold’s.

Still, though, Arnold knew this Pitch like the back of his hand, and he thought that had to count for something. His brother liked going there, but Arnold didn’t practice in the MARS sports room more than he could help, preferring to do his private practices out here, in the real setting, when he could. He was more comfortable on this Pitch than he was in his dorm room, than he was in half the rooms in his house back in South Carolina; this was where he came when he needed to think, sometimes even to study for his exams. Almost as much time as he could get away with spending on the Pitch, he did, and he had been doing that since his first year. There was no way that Cepheus knew this Pitch, all its quirks and ways the grass grew around the bottoms of the hoops and how the stands played into the Seeker’s view and all that, as well as he did, and in that, there could be a small something that could make the difference.

Either way, he thought it was going to be a close game, which made him happy on some level beyond his conscious control. He knew that he needed to just catch the ball and end it as soon as possible to reestablish Aladren’s dominance after last year’s anomaly, but the competition, the thrill, was what he, personally, was in it for. Something he just got, something he didn’t have to work for, just didn’t seem to him like it was worth as much as something that he won by the breadth of a second. Winning was something special; if it got too easy, he didn’t think it would be anymore, and he didn’t like that idea at all. Winning was what he did.

He caught, as he moved across the Pitch on a diagonal, a glimpse of something that shone in the corner of his eye, but by the time he turned to see what it was, it was gone, and he made a face. It had most likely been the Snitch, and he had missed a chance at it. A quick check, though, showed that his opponent wasn’t charging after it, either, so they were both still in it for now.

Arnold’s line of flight was heading toward Mr. Princeton, so he sped up a little and waved as he flew in front of him. “G’morning,” he threw in, in a way that would have been offhanded on the ground. Being friendly seemed to throw them off more than anything else a lot of the time, and he would be surprised if the poor guy hadn’t heard all kinds of stories about playing against hi. That was not, as far as Arnold was concerned, a bad thing at all; he had earned a certain reputation, and if he could make it work to his advantage, he would. If it were ever not going to work, it would most likely be with this new guy. Cepheus had, after all, known Marissa last year, and she had always seemed the least bothered by him of anyone he’d ever played against.

He wondered absently, as he went from flying in a straight line and moved into a curve, how she was doing, out there in the world; he’d gathered over the years that she was Muggleborn, so he really had no idea how her life after school might be. He hoped it was good, though. She had seemed like good people, and the most exciting matches he had ever played in had been against her.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker Will it comfort you after you lose? 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Linus Macaulay, Chaser

July 19, 2012 5:25 PM

Focus on this! by Linus Macaulay, Chaser

As he’d experienced them so far, Quidditch games had the tendency to make Linus regret breakfast – at one point or another he’d always been convinced his morning meal was going to repeat himself on him. Therefore, for the first time in his life, the Crotalus third year had chosen a meal based on what it might be like in reverse. Oatmeal, he decided, wouldn’t be too bad partly digested, as it was of a relatively fluid consistency to begin with. Pushing that disgusting thought to the back of his mind, he piled on the sugar and maple syrup to give himself a sugar boost. He rarely ate this way apart from on special occasions, so he took the opportunity to enjoy himself on an unrestricted diet for once. It was in the name of sports, after all, and House pride, and these seemed to be too perfectly acceptable reasons for a frivolous mealtime. It did have the effect, however, that he was feeling more of a buzz than usual before a game, which was undoubtedly due to the high level of carbohydrate he’d recently consumed, and not at all to do with facing Aladren in the championship game. Linus hadn’t been a Quidditch player the last time this had happened, as he’d only begun to play in his second year at Sonora (this being largely to do with the fact that, due to his Muggle upbringing, he hadn’t even heard of the game at the start of his first year). He had watched the championship in his first year, and had heard about previous years, and he actually wasn’t all that keen to experience the madness of a championship game for himself. Not that he didn’t want to win – of course he wanted his team to win – but Aladren were, well, crazy, and there was surely nothing like a championship final to bring out the madness.

Regardless of how he felt, Linus was a member of the Crotalus team, and as such he would stride out onto that pitch with his head held high and do the best he could to help bring about victory for the rattlesnakes. So he strode out with his teammates, and listened diligently to Captain Bauer’s speech… which seemed to Linus to be downplaying the importance of the game. That actually helped the third year to feel better about what history suggested would be an abysmal performance on his part. He just didn’t seem to be all that exceptional in a game scenario, despite his dedication during team practises. Perhaps this game he wouldn’t suck quite so dramatically as usual. As someone who was not accustomed to sucking at anything, Linus had found it very difficult when the sport hadn’t come as naturally to him as he’d have liked, but he was a fast learner, and the previous two years of playing had already offered him a wealth of experience. Lessons had been learned, and Linus was eager to demonstrate to the rest of the school that he could be competent on a broomstick, despite a hefty amount of evidence to the contrary. He had selected a decent school broom in preparation and took a moment to size up his opposing Chasers. On his own he knew he’d be no match for them, but accompanied by Sam and Renee, Linus thought Crotalus probably had the edge. Time itself would soon tell, and Coach Pierce was just at the end of her elaborate introduction, calling the captains together to shake hands.

Anticipating the start of the game, Linus swung his leg over his broomstick. There wasn’t much breeze, the sun was shining brightly, and there was no chance of rain. All they would have to do was play well, because they certainly couldn’t blame any poor play on the weather, and they ought to beat Aladren. Linus wasn’t at all convinced that the blue-clad players had a better team. Admittedly, they had a more experienced Seeker with an exceptional track record, but he’d been beaten last year by a less experienced Seeker, so maybe the same thing would happen again. Captain Bauer had seemed to think this was a possibility, and Linus had no reason to doubt his team Captain. So with hope and determination, Linus took a deep breath when the whistle blew, and kicked off hard from the ground.

He flew up fairly quickly, but he wasn’t first to the Quaffle (which was probably just as well, as he didn’t know whether he’d recover from the shock of touching the Quaffle so early on in the game in sufficient time to do something sensible with it). Sam had the Quaffle, and it only stayed in Crotalus possession briefly before transferring into Aladren hands amid a short battle of Bludgers. Luckily Topher was on form, and kept the metal balls away from Crotalus players. Unfortunately, the Quaffle had escaped them, and Linus set off in pursuit of it. He thought, in terms of matching up opposite teammates, that he would best be paired with Katrina. Therefore he would have been more confident in making an interception of one of her throws than of other of the other Chasers, but she had already passed the ball by the time Linus caught up with her. This then meant he had to attempt to retrieve the ball from Arthur Carey, and he lacked confidence in this endeavour. Yet with determination on his side, and it being so near the start of the game that exhaustion had not yet set in to slow his reactions, Linus actually made his efforts and stayed close on the tail of the Chaser currently in possession. The ball was in the air, and the third year surged forward, surprising himself (and no doubt everyone watching) by actually catching the ball.

Such was his lack of expectation to maintain his grip on the Quaffle, Linus flew a few more feet towards Nic before he reacted to the fact that he now held the coveted Quaffle in this hands. Replacing one hand rapidly on his broom, he tucked the ball under his free arm and began to circle back away from the Crotalus goals. He rarely touched the ball this early on in the game, and even less frequently did he make a successful interception. Perhaps his practise was paying off after all.

Convinced that at least one Bludger was still in the area, Linus didn’t hold onto the Quaffle for a great deal of time. It felt to him that the ball had barely made it away from the centre line, being carried first a little this way, then back the other, only to retrace its steps once more. It couldn’t be a very interesting game to watch, but it was far less stressful to play than when the ball spent the majority of its time near one set of goalposts. Linus only hoped he would remain relatively anxiety free as he saw a decent passing opportunity and took it, sending the Quaffle once again towards a red robed player.

0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser Focus on this! 0 Linus Macaulay, Chaser 0 5

Russell Layne, Chaser

July 19, 2012 5:57 PM

What, you flying toward your own Keeper? by Russell Layne, Chaser

Mentally, Russell was feeling good about the game today, but he had noticed that his foot was bouncing beneath the table the whole time he was at breakfast, eating banana pancakes. He was hoping it was a positive kind of energy, the kind that would work once he was on the Pitch and playing the game and would hopefully even get them a goal or two. That would definitely be better than the alternative, which involved a lot of Bludgers and Renee Errant on a streak and a lot of disappointment all around the House.

As he warmed up for the game, he worked on relaxing, and remembering that whatever happened, it wasn’t the end of the world. If they won, that was great, but then there would be tomorrow, and tomorrow, and so on until they got to next year and had more games to win or lose; if they lost, the next few tomorrows would be a little less pleasant than they might have been, and they’d have to deal with disappointed Housemates instead of happy ones, but they would still keep going on until exams and summer break and then, next year, more games to win or lose. Whatever happened, it, too, would pass; it would impact their team reputation (he was starting to notice his mind providing arguments against his stances; it wasn’t a completely unpleasant sensation, and he thought it was safe to blame Fawcett’s papers instead of being crazy, but it was a little strange to think about) and he’d prefer for it to be impacted in the way that meant the Aladrens kept being known as the crazy team that won, but there would be another day.

He thought that if he were David, he would be even happier to have that thought about how time would march on, because that would mean other chances to make speeches. Russell thought that the one from the Pecari game might have worked a little better here, but well, he wasn’t the captain, and he did get in some notion of the game being important and stuff being at stake because of it. Russell was resolved to try to keep the things in his life in perspective, but he had to admit, he was annoyed by how Aladren was doing in the points competition so far this year, and there was the thing of them versus Crotalus. They had been consistently beating Crotalus for so long that if they ever didn’t, then they would never live it down, ever, as long as they lived.

Crotalus did get the ball first, and got it from Sam to Renee, but then Kitty intercepted it and got it to Arthur. Russell grinned, but then, when the ball came his way, Linus came in there and stole the ball. So it was going to be one of those games, where it just kept going back and forth without ever getting anywhere. Well, game on. Russell turned to follow the ball, and –

- Found Linus just Not There. Russell blinked, confused for a moment, not sure what was going on, but then the Crotalus Chaser reappeared, now flying in the correct direction, and he dismissed it as just having a better broom and turning faster, without needing as much room to make the swing. It wasn’t important, anyway; the important thing was going after him and getting the ball back before it got anywhere near David.

He kept his eyes on the red ball and little else, counting on the Beaters to stay tangled up with each other so he could focus on being a Chaser. It moved, going up into a pass, and he put another burst of speed to his broom to get in and steal the ball and pull away from the Crotali before anyone could hit anyone. Once he was clear, he turned and headed back toward Nic Sawyer, making up some of the ground before passing back to another blue-clad Chaser and hoping they weren’t about to go into a new pattern, one where the team holding the Quaffle changed with every pass instead of even staying in the same court two moves in a row.

16 Russell Layne, Chaser What, you flying toward your own Keeper? 183 Russell Layne, Chaser 0 5

Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

July 20, 2012 2:10 PM

After I lose sight of you in my victory? Yes. by Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

It wasn't fair to Cepheus that Aladren won the Quidditch Cup so many years. He'd done a bit of research and didn't like that Crotalus always seemed to lose when paired when against this house. Though they had lost to Aladren last year when Cepheus was a reserve, they hadn't won the Cup. Now Crotalus was in the final and Cepheus wanted to change Aladren's luck. They had a strong team in Cepheus's opinion despite his own inexperience. If he continued to tell himself that they could win, he would begin to believe it.

The snitch was quite an evasive one. Having never played in a final match before, Cepheus wondered if the snitch decided to not show up until the last minute, perhaps to cause tension. Or he just wasn't looking hard enough. Cepheus wasn't sure how one was supposed to "look harder," but he had to do it somehow.

Cepheus attempted to channel the professional Quidditch players he'd watched before. His father, an avid Quidditch player, had taken him and his brothers to several matches during the World Cup and the British and Irish Quidditch League. Father had pressured him and groomed him to be a great Quidditch player for as long as he could remember. Because Father had been a Seeker and Grandfather had been a Seeker, it was only obvious that Cepheus was going to be one too.

He remembered fighting Rupert for the role once. It was the only time he had seen his mother get visibly upset at Father. She said that he was purposefully making conflict between the children and stirring up future bitterness. Mother was the second child in her family and she hadn't exactly had the best relationship with her older brother. Grandfather didn't have a positive relationship with his older sisters either. Cepheus felt that his brothers weren't as stuck-up as his relatives, and Cepheus certainly wasn't that horrible either. In his own opinion, of course.

It was during times like these that Cepheus wished that he didn't practise in the MARS room so often. He enjoyed the fresh air, but during the colder weeks he had practised in a warmer room, if not unrealistic. Not the kind of place to practise for important matches, Cepheus now knew. He told himself desperately that he would never practise in the MARS room again if he was able to win this match.

Carey was coming over and Cepheus braced himself for an exchange of words. He tried to remember what Sam had said, but Carey passed with a mere, "G'morning," and Cepheus was too flabbergasted to respond back properly. By the time he'd found his tongue, Carey had flown farther away. It was so civil that Cepheus could hardly believe it had happened. Taking it from a different view, Carey could be acting nonchalant just to throw him off even more. Cepheus took a deep breath to clear his head. "Don't think," he grumbled to himself and flew around the pitch the opposite way of his opponent, eyes still peeled for the gold. If Jade Owen had been able to win the Cup for Pecari as a first year, then he could certainly do the same as a second year.

0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker After I lose sight of you in my victory? Yes. 0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker 0 5

Arthur Carey, Chaser

July 20, 2012 11:07 PM

That is also amusing, I admit by Arthur Carey, Chaser

Arthur had been counting on the ball to land neatly in the hands of one of his teammates, completing the pass according to plan and moving them that much closer to Mr. Sawyer, and he felt his eyebrows draw together and lower into a scowl when he saw that it had not gone that way. Mr. Macaulay had never, to Arthur’s mind, presented much of a threat, but he had apparently improved in either ability or nerve, because he had just neatly intercepted the pass. Arthur was impressed; he was not like his brother, generous enough to be pleased even during the game for those who could get between him and his goal, but he was impressed, and not displeased altogether. It meant that things weren’t going to grow just yet.

He turned and followed, but it was Russell who successfully recaptured the ball from Mr. Macaulay’s attempt to pass the ball to another Crotalus. There. They had it back. It was back to Mr. Sawyer, now, as quickly as they coul…well, reasonably quickly, anyway. There was no way to know how long this might last, so it was perhaps best not to exhaust themselves here, at the very beginning. This was a final against Crotalus; Mr. Princeton was not Miss Stephenson, but the game might still go on for hours.

His arm twinged unpleasantly, and he moved his shoulder as he followed the ball back toward the Crotalus side, hoping that the event would come to its conclusion before that. He had gotten through that first championship game, the one in his first year, without any permanent damage, but he knew that even school Quidditch games could drag on far longer than that. He would not like for one of the alternates to have to finish it in Arnold’s place, but could do little, from his current position, to affect the end of the game but trust his twin to be on his toes and on top of things today.

The arguments for having taken the vacant Beater position were, he thought, looking better and better by the moment, despite his left arm and Mother’s opinions about what playing the more aggressive position did for his personality. It was frustrating, when he thought of it, to merely be an item to amuse the crowd, not someone who could really ever meaningfully impact the game. The best he could hope to do was raise the score enough to raise the points count when it was all factored together and entered into the House Point registry. Though that wasn’t bad, all things considered. It wasn’t as worthwhile a way to earn points as being an exceptional student was in his opinion, but it certainly beat some other options.

Russell passed again, and this time it went as Arthur had hoped it would, going from Aladren to Aladren rather than Aladren to Crotalus. The air was sharp against his face, but felt almost pleasant in his hair; the ground below was little more than a greenish blur. There was pleasure, to be sure, in flying fast; sometimes he enjoyed it purely on its own merits, rather than just for training or playing purposes. One wrong move, and he would tumble toward the ground, with even the effects of the spell the coach would use to keep him from being killed enough to hurt; at home, if he lost his seat, he would simply fall and would have to hope for the best. He thought that way was better when it was just flying, anyway; at the very least, it encouraged everyone to learn a good seat very early. The notion of someone being there to catch him became something more like a necessity once Bludgers came into it. He was big enough now, and even Arnold was, that it wasn’t so likely that they would be knocked off their brooms as it had been in first year, but if the force was great enough, or the angles just wrong, it could still happen. Even at the family games, when the rules about not killing the opposition were much more loosely enforced, they had people on the ground to catch them if they fell and put them back together again when they took especially interesting hits.

Some had suggested he should become the next family Healer, since Great-Uncle Adam would not live forever and Morgaine did not seem likely to work out; then it would be primarily his job to do the putting back together at the Reunion. Arthur didn’t know about that. He didn’t doubt that he was smart enough to go through Healer training, that wasn’t the issue, he knew that such a respectable position should have even appealed to him, but the idea just seemed alien to him for some reason. He saw a decent opportunity to pass and took it, frowning hard in concentration as he put what he hoped was the correct amount of force behind the ball to send it into his teammate’s hands, rather than past them. That would, he thought, be embarrassing; it was one of the things he could not remember seeing happen on this Pitch, and that was not a first he wanted to be associated with. He had over-thrown a few times in practices, but he had trained with getting rid of that problem specifically in mind once he noticed it happening.

0 Arthur Carey, Chaser That is also amusing, I admit 0 Arthur Carey, Chaser 0 5

Nic Sawyer, Keeper

July 20, 2012 11:10 PM

Did someone say my name? by Nic Sawyer, Keeper

Nic was never late for anything. For one thing, he had very long legs that could take very long strides that made short work of most of the distances Sonora students had to walk. For another, one of his Crotalus traits was a good grasp on time management and foreplanning. Today, however, he was not particularly early for the game. He had woken with his alarm, ate breakfast with his usual efficiency, and returned to his room to collect his broom. That was when he noticed some books had fallen on the bristles, partially crushing them, and he'd had to do some last minute repair work.

He still made it out in time for Sam's speech, with a minute or two to spare, with his broom in good if not perfect shape. He wasn't entirely sure if he should be proud of that, or upset that he hadn't seen the damage to his broom earlier. Either way, he nodded when Sam told him to keep doing what he had been doing.

The whistle blew and he took to the air, heading for the Crotalus goals that were his responsibility. He beat the Quaffle there and settled into an easy figure eight pattern in front of the three hoops that keep him moving, and never terribly far from any one of them for more than a few seconds.

He'd break the pattern if the Chasers got close, so it would be harder for the Aladrens to time their attempts at goal, but for now the six Chasers seemed content to cover and recover the same dozen or so yards in the middle of the pitch. In truth, this was one of the more annoying things the Chasers could do to a Keeper, because they were just close enough that they had to be watched closely, but far enough away that they didn't feel like an immediate threat. It was simultaneously both boring and nerve-racking.

He only dared to look toward the stands, trying to find Rachel, a couple times before quickly looking back to the other players fighting over the Quaffle. One such time he had a momentary scare when he saw Linus flying toward him, but the kid got his broom turned back right and heading the correct direction again shortly. Then Russell got it and negated that progress.

"Go Crotalus," he shouted once, on the off chance that team spirit might actually help the Crotalus Chaser continue the interception trend. Unfortunately, it didn't.

1 Nic Sawyer, Keeper Did someone say my name? 165 Nic Sawyer, Keeper 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

July 20, 2012 11:41 PM

Dream on, my young friend, dream on by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Arnold was a little disappointed when he got no response, but he shrugged it off. There was – probably – still plenty of time, and depending on what Cepheus had been expecting, he might have just been very confusing indeed. He couldn’t be sure right now, since stopping to look and try to figure it out was wasting time he might have used to try to find the Snitch, which was really his priority here today. Either way, though, next time he would have to try to be a jerk, because he couldn’t think of a time, off the top of his head, when he had played both roles in one game, so that was sure to throw him off at least a little.

At least, if he was like most people. Arnold himself didn’t mind very much if the other Seekers yelled stuff back at him, so it was possible that Cepheus wouldn’t care one way or the other, either, but would recognize it as just a tactic, or maybe something somewhere between a tactic and a gesture of something not completely unlike camaraderie, which was how Arnold thought of it himself. Or maybe he would be the one who lost it completely and jumped off his broom to try to hit Arnold in the face; he had always sort of worried that there would be one of those, someday. Amira Thornton had come close, which he thought could have something to do with why she’d been demoted to Chaser, and Crotali were known to turn out some people who were ultimately proven to be crazy.

Right now, though, getting taken out of the game and trying to take Arnold with him didn’t seem to be what the Crotalus Seeker was planning to do, so Arnold turned his attention right back to the air, looking mostly down but making sure, consciously, that he looked up sometimes, too, because it would be about as bad as anything he could imagine to realize after the fact that the Snitch had been sitting right on top of his head and he had missed it because he had assumed he was flying higher than it would go. As far as he understood them, the charms on the Pitch didn’t work like that. They kept the Snitch from going outside the Pitch, but he didn’t think that they had anything to do with how high it went, at least not until maybe it became ridiculous and the Snitch was so high in the air that humans couldn’t breathe there and it couldn’t be caught at all….

Huh, he thought, momentarily distracted by a fragment of Quidditch lore, dragged out of whatever mental cupboard it had been residing in by that thought. Maybe I figured out how that one game never ended. If the Snitch could go into the stratosphere or something like that, then that could explain how no one had ever caught it; it was charmed to avoid capture as long as it could, so there was nothing to make it come down once it discovered that the players weren’t following it anymore. Eventually, he guessed the magic would wear off and it would fall to the ground, or had already, but by then the game had been called and no one had been looking for it, or it had flown to Denmark or something like that, so….

A red-clad player moved, he didn’t even know which one, and he snapped back to attention. And it won’t matter if they throw me off the team and let Jay do this next year what happens to any Snitches! he reminded himself harshly, then got back to work. He had heard his mother theorize that school Snitches were charmed to appear after so long, so if she was right, the Snitch could be anywhere, and even if she wasn’t…it could still be anywhere. He had to find it, not think about stupid things that had nothing to do with the game and could make him miss something just long enough for Cepheus to sweep in, take the Cup from Aladren for the second year running, and possibly then be the direct cause for Arnold losing his position next year. He was pretty sure that winning, as a concept, meant more to Aladren as a collective than any individual member of the team did. There had to be some reason almost every member of his family who came through Sonora seemed to end up in the same House.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker Dream on, my young friend, dream on 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

July 21, 2012 4:49 PM

Dreams are where reality begins. by Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

To be quite frank, Cepheus wasn't sure what to expect from the Aladrens. He had never actually played a match against them before. Last year he'd only been an alternate. This year, he was sitting on his broom watching the match pass by as the snitch hid from him and, so it looked, Carey as well. It was comforting that at least Carey couldn't see the snitch either. Cepheus didn't dare compare himself to the older and more experienced Seeker, but he wanted to prove that, despite his age and size, he could be just as capable of winning a match. He needed to prove it to himself and to his team.

Tired of waiting around, Cepheus wanted to do something. His nervousness had gone away with the passing time. He had flown around the entire pitch a few times, eyes still blind to any glints of gold. His boredom was peaked and he sat immobile on his broom for a moment, eyeing Carey carefully. He wondered if the Aladren Seeker would fall for a false dive, but he could always try. If he didn't succeed, he'd have a better view of the pitch from below just in case the snitch was down there.

Cepheus glanced over at Gareth, wondering if he should tell his beater his plan. No, it was too risky. Cepheus looked up into the air, the sky reflected in his blue eyes, and he turned on his broom. He made a couple more rounds around the pitch, and then gasped and made an abrupt dive towards the south end of the pitch. He pressed his broom to go as fast as possible towards the grass, the ground coming up fast. His heart was pounding hard, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as the prospect of crashing head-first into the ground came to mind.

Cepheus was not great at diving and pulling up millimetres before he hit the ground, so he pulled up too soon. He lost control of his broom for a second before going higher again. His face was red, his hair windblown, but Cepheus loved the thrill. It was like free-falling off his broom.

The snitch was still nowhere to be seen, so Cepheus turned to look at Carey briefly before zooming off to another area of the pitch. The Chasers didn't seem to be making any goals which meant the responsibility of winning the match fell on his shoulders. Unless Crotalus could magically gain 150 points on their own by goals alone. Cepheus took a deep breath. Quidditch matches were usually faster than this, goal-wise, but it didn't seem to be the case for Sonora. Perhaps it was like that for all schools.

Cepheus took a gulp of air. His throat was parched after the dive. He most likely looked like a young fool to the opposing Seeker, but at this moment he didn't care. He'd do anything to get that snitch. Ceph wished a time-out could be called just so he could get hydrated. He felt slightly light-headed, but he tried to push that away. He wouldn't give his opponent the satisfaction of watching him fall off the broom on his own. No, Cepheus would fight through this. Perhaps he should have finished that cup of water before coming.

It didn't take much to throw Cepheus off his game, but usually he threw himself off his game. If anyone yelled at him, he would get angry himself, but to the extent that he would become unfocused. He'd be more motivated to beat the other to a pulp through Quidditch. He was fiercely competitive naturally, but even more so when he was angry at someone. Cepheus flew, gaining speed and hoping that he wasn't losing Gareth. He slowed a bit, continuing to keep his eyes open for something, anything. Except for the bludgers, but he was quick to keep away from them. If he wasn't quick enough, Gareth was there to save him. Cepheus wondered briefly if his friends had come, but most of his mates were apart of the Quidditch team. Many were also Aladrens. Funny how that turned out. As competitive as he was, it was difficult not to enjoy the friendship of some of the Aladrens he'd met. It was enough, however, to make him go soft on their Quidditch team.

0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker Dreams are where reality begins. 0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

July 21, 2012 8:31 PM

...So, what about the nightmares? by Arnold Carey, Seeker

The Snitch was somewhere, and it probably was not somewhere it could never be found, but Arnold wasn’t seeing it. That didn’t worry him; nothing dramatic was going on right now, there was no sign that Cepheus knew where it was any more than he did, and so he could be patient, with a little effort. Patience wasn’t one of the things that came naturally to Arnold, he liked for things to happen fast and he could get bored during waits, but if there was ever a time when it was much easier than usual, it was when he was playing Quidditch. He thought it was something to do with not having to sit still.

He was not doing exactly that while looking casually – as close to casually as it got during a game, anyway – around the Pitch when a sudden movement from the red spot he remembered was Cepheus drew his attention to it and, as he processed what it was doing, caused his heart to jolt unpleasantly in his chest. That was a dive, and a pretty steep one; either there was a very ambitious attempt at a Wronski Feint going on, or else the new kid on the block had just spotted the Snitch and didn’t care if he did crash very hard immediately after he caught it. Normally, Arnold would have felt safer assuming the first, but until he got to know them, it was safer to assume that a new person might, just might, turn out to be a lot like him.

Besides, if Arthur was right, for the other Seekers, it might not be so much about beating Aladren as about beating him, specifically, and that might make people do things they wouldn’t normally do anyway. If a team was going to think that way, it would be Crotalus. So overall, he thought it was just safest to treat this as an actual threat and fly toward the spot Cepheus was diving for.

Closer to him, though, Arnold looked as hard as he could and saw no glitter of gold, so, with a small pang of anxiety in case he was wrong but the main belief that he was right, he pulled out of his dive and moved away with a sense of some appreciation for Cepheus for trying it and nearly pulling it off. “Nice try!” he called as he passed him this time, the two of them going in different directions.

That, he thought, was a nicely ambiguous statement. He could be making a genuine compliment, or he could be making a sarcastic comment. It was a little less obviously friendly than last time, anyway. Not bad, he thought, not too bad at all. He went on, rising to about the middle level of the air. It had disadvantages, since he had to look both up and down, but then, he had to do that no matter what, and being there was another thing to keep looking in all directions in mind.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker ...So, what about the nightmares? 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Andrina Thornton, Aladren Reserve

July 22, 2012 3:02 AM

Quidditch? Oh yea... by Andrina Thornton, Aladren Reserve

Andri had no problem falling asleep the night before finals. She was surprised on that fact, but she wouldn’t let it confuse her for too long. Her eyelids were heavy and she couldn’t stop yawning until her head hit the pillow. Once her head hit said pillow she was out like a light.

The next morning she woke up with a start, feeling groggy from her sleep. Looking around her room she yawned and stretched before getting up and putting herself together to go to the game. Just like in the last game she was hoping that she wouldn’t end up having to play, but how was she to know if she would or not until that time actually happens? She’d gone to breakfast, but barely touched anything on her plate. I wonder if Angel will come to the game today? she thought to herself as she got up, giving up on her food.

She walked down to the pitch and met up with her team. David started talking and she tried hard to pay attention to what he’d been saying, she really did. But she had something else on her mind.

Someone, was more like it to be honest, but either way…

She scanned the crowd in the hunt for the albino boy who’d been on her mind more and more lately. Andri didn’t see him though right away. This told her either he wasn’t there; or he was somewhere where she couldn’t see him. The second year hoped it was the latter.

David looked towards Coach Pierce and went off to shake hands with Sam. Andri watched him go, but then turned to the crowd once more in search of Angel Shield.

The game started, but Andri had no idea what was going on above her on the bench. It wasn’t her top priority it seemed. The fair skinned boy seemed to be pushed to the forefront and she had no idea why…

0 Andrina Thornton, Aladren Reserve Quidditch? Oh yea... 0 Andrina Thornton, Aladren Reserve 0 5

Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

July 22, 2012 3:19 AM

Nightmares are just scare tactics. by Cepheus Princeton, Seeker

The dive had apparently been quite successful if Carey’s reaction was anything to go by. Though he had pulled up much faster than Cepheus would have liked, he had still followed. His pleasure, however, only lasted a moment before Carey came by with an ambiguous, “Nice try.” The comment rolled around in Cepheus’s brain for a bit. Was Carey trying to patronise him or something of the sort? Or was he being genuine? It took a few minutes before he decided that it wasn’t worth mulling over. Perhaps Carey wasn’t as horrible as the others pegged him to be, though Cepheus still didn’t know the bloke very well. It was always good to be on one’s toes before one fully got to know someone. Father always said that anyone could be a back-stabber if you didn’t watch them carefully enough. It wasn’t exactly something Cepheus had put into practise yet, still being thirteen and inexperienced with real back-stabbing friends, but he took Father’s word for it.

It was easy to get bored again sitting up in the air. A few more rounds should do it, but it didn’t do anything except frustrate Cepheus and make him anxious for this match to end. His throat was still parched, his bum getting sore from sitting for so long. Cepheus leant forward and pushed his broom to go faster, his eyes glaring around. The first thing he was going to ask for when this match ended was a glass of water. Merlin. He took another deep breath of air and tried not to imagine his chest cavity caving in, his lungs burning themselves to death and he falling off his broom from dehydration. He was too dramatic for his own good, but he was beginning to believe himself. ‘Pull yourself together,’ he thought fiercely and tried to get his mind off of his parched throat and on the snitch.

Ah, the snitch. Where the was that bloody snitch? Cepheus made a few waves in the air, and his eyes singled on a glint of something. His heart leapt to his throat once again and he took off towards that glint. However, he stopped short when he realised that he had once again jumped the gun. It was just a reflection off of the hoop to the ground. He hated the sun right at this moment, but it wouldn't do to curse nature. Mother had told him that nature had to be respected or it would bite him in the bum someday. He wondered if using natural ingredients for potions would be considered 'respecting nature'.

Cepheus was getting nervous just sitting like he had nothing better to do. He really was looking for the snitch and, by the look Carey had on his face, so was he. Cepheus swallowed. The last thing he wanted was to get upstaged by an older Seeker and fail his team. That, of course, went without saying. Cepheus was in danger of throwing a tantrum or holing himself in his room for days if he didn't succeed, but perhaps not. He was thirteen now; an official adolescent and more irritating in his father's mind. Now that Cepheus was a teenager, that meant he was going to get an arranged marriage. Grandfather had already found several suitable families which Cepheus had already decided he would hate. He didn't have to like his future spouse, did he?

Marriage to Cepheus only meant more time doing "adult things" and having more responsibility and less time to play Quidditch or make havoc around town with his mates. It would be even worse if Grandfather decided that Cepheus was going to live in the States permanently. The thought just made him cringe. He'd heard that most Americans played quadpot and Cepheus would be darned before he ever played such a useless game. He had been overjoyed to discover that Sonora supported Quidditch. It was at least one piece of home that Cepheus was able to bring along with him. Now if this match could end and Cepheus could snatch the snitch, it would be the perfect ending to this stressful day. His eyes searched the entire pitch, waiting, tense and anxious to dive once again, only this time with a real purpose.

0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker Nightmares are just scare tactics. 0 Cepheus Princeton, Seeker 0 5

Jay Carey, Reserve

July 22, 2012 6:15 PM

It is sort of important around here by Jay Carey, Reserve

To say Jay wasn’t very surprised to be at the Quidditch final wearing his blue robe and sitting on the reserves’ bench was, he thought, a perfectly accurate statement. He had never been sure, in his bones, that they would play in this game at the beginning of the year, or when they had played against Pecari, but just looking at the record indicated that it would be much more surprising, to them and everyone else, if they weren’t. It seemed that his cousin had finally found something to excel at besides contests of sheer nerve, which Jay thought was a good thing. For one thing, Quidditch was a lot less dangerous than some of the things Arnold had thought sounded fun at the time before school, and for another, maybe there was something to be said for being very good at one thing instead of trying to be good at everything, the way Anthony had to and Arthur and Henry and Theresa pushed themselves to so they could keep up with Anthony. Jay thought Arnold seemed happier than those three, anyway, though in Henry’s case it was probably a little more complicated than that, at least now.

Getting to the final match, though, had seemed more likely than not, but as for what would happen during it, Jay had no idea. He had read the letters from his cousins and sister about them while he was still at home just like everyone else, but between Arnold’s excited, confusing attempts at play-by-play accounts, Arthur’s minimalist prose, and Theresa’s vague summaries, he had decided that he really still had no better idea what to expect than any other first year did. Arnold winning was likely, but not quite as likely as it had been against Pecari, and it was also likely that a lot of people would get hurt – all things anyone who paid any attention to Sonora Quidditch could have deduced, if they didn’t follow the superstition that the youngest Seekers would always win. Beyond that, it got harder and harder to speculate accurately about, though Jay thought he also wouldn’t be surprised if he and his fellow alternates once again spent all their time on the ground. None of the people on the teams seemed to like the idea of stepping aside, even when it was probably in their own best interests. Certainly Arnold had mentioned people, including himself, getting hit by Bludgers and then going on to do something else in the game often enough.

Captains’ speeches were not something that his family had reported on very much, so Jay was surprised by the deviation in style from Captain Wilkes’ previous pre-game speech, but he nodded, pretty sure no one was paying him any attention anyway, when it ended and no one else said anything about it and then followed the girls to the bench.

How strange-feeling, he thought, it might be to be in Samantha’s shoes, since she was so much older than the rest of them and a prefect and had once, from what he’d put together, been on the team for real. Since David had been taken off the bench and made captain because the next-oldest players after him were Arnold and Arthur and their roommates, he expected she would have been Quidditch captain, too, if she hadn’t left for a while, and now she was an alternate. Not that there was anything wrong with being an alternate, and he hadn’t heard her complain about it, but still…he thought that even if he didn’t mind, it would be a little strange to think about, at least at first, and probably again during a game.

Andrina distracted him from that thought, though, by twisting around to look at the crowd instead of up at the game as it got started. He smiled slightly. “Looking for your sisters?” he asked, since he knew she had a lot of them and it would be nice to know that family was here to see if he did get called in. His sister probably was, and had probably dragged Alex along with her, but he wasn’t sure if they would have grabbed Lucille – her mother was so strict – or if Jane had come, and the twins were, of course, on the team out there, so he was set in that way. If he played, his family was definitely going to know about it, and exactly how well he had done, though he expected the reaction to be good-natured teasing either way.

0 Jay Carey, Reserve It is sort of important around here 0 Jay Carey, Reserve 0 5

Paul Bennett, Reserve

July 22, 2012 6:55 PM

Making my appearance by Paul Bennett, Reserve

Crotalus and Aladren were playing each other again, against all odds, against all hopes, against all Coach Pierce’s best efforts. The forces of destiny, when it came to the two of them, were stronger than anything else. They both knew they weren’t any good for each other, they both knew that it was just an endless vicious little cycle, but they kept coming back together anyway, again and again, like yet another weepy couple with terrible dialogue in any given piece of “literature” Paul’s mother read or listened to.

All things considered evenly, though, he did think those couples were both more boring and more annoying than the familiar Quidditch final line-up. The teams, at least, were trying to accomplish something; the romantics were just idiots. He didn’t get why they didn’t just hire someone to erase their memories of each other and implant a burning desire in them to move to different coasts at once, which was what he would do if he ever got involved with some woman and it turned out to be a complete disaster but he was too dumb to remember next time that the good parts of the last time had not nearly outweighed the disadvantages. Or at least, he would erase his own memories; the rest of it involved a little more trust than he liked to have in someone else, though he did try not to be paranoid. Just because he could think of reasons to violate the ethics of everything he could think of didn’t mean that most people did. Realizing the critical distinction between what was possible and what most people were realistically going to do was one of the things he felt distinctly separated him from being a little weird like Eliza.

“I’d give anything for her to be in another House,” Eliza had said gloomily as she watched Renee eating breakfast. “Then there wouldn’t be anything wrong with wanting Crotalus to win and wanting her to make a fool of herself out there.”

He had decided to find his fruit and oatmeal more interesting than his sister and not answer that statement. She hadn’t seemed to notice. They’d parted ways not long after that, Eliza wishing him and Nic Sawyer luck before going away, dressed in a far more screamingly red outfit than the Crotalus uniform had ever thought to be. He didn’t know why Mother let her even own anything that color; it didn’t look bad on her, but it was just so…loud.

Dismissing that, though, as not important, he had gone down to the Pitch, where he’d amused himself trying to guess who would get hit by a Bludger first this year while Sam gave them a speech, then Coach Pierce did her thing and got the game started and he settled in to watch and be amused. He’d discovered that he liked watching Quidditch much more than he liked playing it, though how to turn either one into a life skill was still something he was working on. He figured he still had plenty of time; eventually, he would have to do things besides what he did already, but not any time soon.

The game started the way he would guess most of his fellow Crotali had wanted it to, but then started moving back and forth. As expected. He wondered if the crowd did still find Crotalus and Aladren interesting, because he thought some of the players, anyway, might be getting a little tired of their battles for supremacy that went nowhere and usually came down to a flat race between the battered Seekers, a question of who was either on a better broom or just a little bit less battered than the other guy. Or girl, though that wasn’t the case today, since both of the Seekers were guys. If Cepheus stood a better chance than Marissa Stephenson had, Paul thought it was because he was smaller, more aerodynamic, and richer, rather than because he was a guy, but he guessed they would have to wait and see. Hopefully not for the ‘few hours’ predicted by Coach Pierce, but that, too, was out of Paul’s hands. He was only half a step above the spectators through a technicality.

0 Paul Bennett, Reserve Making my appearance 201 Paul Bennett, Reserve 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

July 22, 2012 10:36 PM

So wouldn't good dreams just be sugary manipulation? by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Once again, he got no reply, so Arnold thought it wouldn’t be too far out of line to assume that Cepheus had been warned against him. Or at least, he was a quiet player, not someone who was going to get into the drama of the game, but someone who was going to just do the job in front of him – someone, in other words, more like Arthur than Arnold himself. Arnold got things done, the point was to distract his opponent, but he preferred to try to have some fun with it at the same time. For him, it relieved some of the pressure of knowing how much some people felt was riding on the game. Not everyone was the same, that was expected.

Still, it did make things less entertaining for him. He could get to the part where he was a jerk more easily if he had something to play off of, too; that wasn’t exactly the part of his role as the Seeker he was the most comfortable in. Sometimes, in his regular life, he said things wrong – that run-in with Fae and Russell at Eliza’s party over midterm, he thought, attested to that fact – but he didn’t go out of his way sometimes to annoy people the way he did in Quidditch sometimes, and the first and second years just looked…small, it felt more like picking on them than it did when they were more all the same size, or when, at home, the other players were his relatives. Jay was a first year, but Arnold didn’t think of him that way, he thought of him as his cousin, and if he had been playing Seeker for Crotalus, he didn’t think he would have felt bad at all.

Jay was on the bench, though, as an Aladren, so he would play the opponent he was given. Maybe it wouldn’t, now that he thought of it, hurt to think of his cousin in the opposition anyway, though. To remind himself that the first and second years were competitors, even if they were smaller. Grandfather would have said something about Careys being different from everyone else, but he had seen enough girls play good Quidditch, and been beaten by a first year girl in a final just to top it off, to think that maybe his grandfather Carey didn’t know about the game and how the rules worked in it. It was different here.

He swept around again, speeding up for a moment just to get the thrill of flight and the feeling of the wind in his hair and then slowing down only a fraction in order to get back to looking for the Snitch. He was surprised he hadn’t seen it yet, even briefly, but not concerned; sometimes, it was just better at being where neither Seeker was than it was on other days. It would show up soon enough even if the professors weren’t charming it to do so.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker So wouldn't good dreams just be sugary manipulation? 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Arnold Carey, Seeker

July 23, 2012 12:46 AM

...Not that it matters right now by Arnold Carey, Seeker

Looking over the Pitch, Arnold saw that Russell had the Quaffle – he must have stolen it recently, he thought – and Arthur was right there with it, clearly intending to do anything in his power to ensure that the Crotali did not get the Quaffle back. Arnold hoped the best for him with that but was, personally, glad that it wasn’t his job. He had played the family version of Chaser more often than anything else before school, but after four years of Seeking, he really didn’t remember why. Seeking was what he did; he enjoyed it more than any other on the field.

Not that Beater was even an option, really – he could swing a bat, and probably hit the Bludger away from him if he had to, but there was almost always going to be someone available who was just better-suited to it. Arthur, maybe, could pull off Beater, but Arnold just had no interest in it. Beaters made the game fun, but he didn’t think playing the position would be much fun for him, so as long as there was no practical reason for him to do it, he wasn’t going to. The same went for Chaser and Keeper, though he thought he’d take Chaser or Beater over Keeper. Just hanging around half the game sometimes….

Arthur emerged victorious in a pass, obtaining the Quaffle, and Arnold nodded slightly in approval before getting back to the business at hand: finding the Snitch. It had been harder in first year, but he and his brother had learned to largely ignore each other during the games, because he didn’t think either of them would appreciate it if the other messed something up because of what was going on with the other. He knew especially that Arthur would not be amused if he lost the game for them because of concern for Arthur’s well-being, anyway; he didn’t think he would find it all that funny, either, really, when he thought about it. As for the rest of the team, he didn’t think he even needed to poll them –

- Or pay any attention to them at all right now, because there, at last, was a familiar glimmer of gold, beneath and ahead of his position, nice angle for a dive, he wouldn’t even have to worry about his broom much, because it wasn’t going to be steep. If he went now, anyway, before the Snitch decided to go to the other side of the Pitch – now!

He dove, the Snitch headed further away, but he kept his eyes on it, not blinking in case it darted away, and pulled out of the dive, flying forward, as it rose a little in the air, and pulling it from the air was almost casual, as though he were doing it in passing. His hand tightened on it too quickly and too much, though, for that.

First, there was the thrill of catching it, especially in a way he thought might have looked kind of awesome if anyone had been paying attention, which they probably had been in the crowds, which was quickly followed by just a wave of relief. He had it. They had won again, and so no one on his side was going to be unhappy today. That was, he thought, a good cause for relief; he had been pretty sure that he was going to win today, but there was always that 'if.' Always, anyway, except for the rest of this year, and he wasn't even thinking about fifth year until he had to, sometime after its beginning this fall.

0 Arnold Carey, Seeker ...Not that it matters right now 181 Arnold Carey, Seeker 0 5

Coach Pierce

July 23, 2012 11:56 AM

Aladren wins! 150 - 0 (nm) by Coach Pierce

0 Coach Pierce Aladren wins! 150 - 0 (nm) 0 Coach Pierce 0 5

<font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

Quidditch Final: Aladren vs Crotalus by <font color=silver>Coach Amelia Pierce</font>

<font color="blue">Captain Wilkes, Keeper</font>

Here we go. by <font color="blue">Captain Wilkes, Keeper</font>

<font color="red">Captain Bauer, Chaser</font>

...Straight toward your sudden, yet inevitable defeat. by <font color="red">Captain Bauer, Chaser</font>

<font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

Right, and here we go. by <font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

<font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

Yep. by <font color = red>Renée Errant {Chaser}</font>

<font color="blue"> Preston. Beater </font>

Nananaaananaaaa by <font color="blue"> Preston. Beater </font>

<font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font>

Oh, that's mature. by <font color="red">Topher Calhoun, Beater</font>

<font color="blue"> Preston. Beater </font>

Very much so, yes. by <font color="blue"> Preston. Beater </font>

<font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

End it quickly please by <font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

<font color="blue">Kitty McLevy Chaser</font>

You two are great distractions by <font color="blue">Kitty McLevy Chaser</font>

<font color=blue>Thaddeus Pierce, Beater</font>

I'm sure Arnold will take your wish under consideration by <font color=blue>Thaddeus Pierce, Beater</font>

<font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

You’ll be disappointed when you loose by <font color="red">Gareth Whitebriar-Beater </font>

<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

He doesn't have to worry about that by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

They're very amusing, yes, but let's focus... by <font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

<font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

That's good to know. by <font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

Will it comfort you after you lose? by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

<font color="red">Linus Macaulay, Chaser</font>

Focus on this! by <font color="red">Linus Macaulay, Chaser</font>

<font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

What, you flying toward your own Keeper? by <font color="blue">Russell Layne, Chaser</font>

<font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

After I lose sight of you in my victory? Yes. by <font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

That is also amusing, I admit by <font color="blue">Arthur Carey, Chaser</font>

<font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

Did someone say my name? by <font color=red>Nic Sawyer, Keeper</font>

<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

Dream on, my young friend, dream on by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

<font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

Dreams are where reality begins. by <font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

...So, what about the nightmares? by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

Andrina Thornton, Aladren Reserve

Quidditch? Oh yea... by Andrina Thornton, Aladren Reserve

<font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

Nightmares are just scare tactics. by <font color="red">Cepheus Princeton, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Jay Carey, Reserve</font>

It is sort of important around here by <font color="blue">Jay Carey, Reserve</font>

<font color="red">Paul Bennett, Reserve</font>

Making my appearance by <font color="red">Paul Bennett, Reserve</font>

<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

So wouldn't good dreams just be sugary manipulation? by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

<font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

...Not that it matters right now by <font color="blue">Arnold Carey, Seeker</font>

<font color=silver>Coach Pierce</font>

Aladren wins! 150 - 0 (nm) by <font color=silver>Coach Pierce</font>