Once again, Isis was called upon to officiate one of Sonora’s Quidditch games, and once again, she felt incredibly uneasy about the entire thing. She supposed it was simply a part of life given that Sonora had no actual, specific coach. It was usually Professor Olivers, stepping up and filling in to help out the kids who so clearly loved to play the game. Unfortunately, the professor/coach could not make it today, which left substitute Isis to fill the hole once more.
To add to her irritation, the Pitch was surprisingly warm, hotter than she had ever personally felt it to be on the grounds, as if the school metaphorically woke up and remembered it was situated in the desert. Isis took care to warn the Teppalus and Aladren captains, advising them to keep their team hydrated and cooled as much as possible. She definitely didn’t want to see anyone passing out from the heat.
“Welcome, everyone, to our final match of the school year!” Isis began with forced cheer when the appropriate time came. “Today we have Aladren, led by Captain Francesca Wolseithecrafte, versus Teppalus, led by Co-Captains Liac Reinhardt and Alistair Johnston.” She nodded to the boys to shake hands. They should know the routine by now, and saying it all felt so redundant.
“Good luck to both teams,” she added as the captains found their starting positions. With the Snitch and Bludgers free in the air, Isis stuck the whistle between her teeth and took a breath. Tossing the Quaffle as high as she could, its shrill shriek signified the formal start of the game.
OOC: You all know the rules by now, but just in case you forgot, here’s a refresher. All other site rules, of course, still apply as well. Be creative, have fun, and tag me if you need anything!
Subthreads:
A view from the bench. by <font color="orange">Tobi Reinhardt, Bench</font> with <font color='blue'>Capt Francesca W, Chaser</font>, <font color="orange">Jake Manger, Bench</font>
Watching and waiting by <font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font> with <font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>, <font color="orange">Arne Reinhardt, Beater</font>, <font color="orange">Shinohara, Seeker</font>, Coach Olivers
Ready to defend by <font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font> with <font color=orange>Ginger Pierce, Keeper</font>
12"Coach" Isis CarterQuidditch Game III: Teppalus vs. Aladren!31"Coach" Isis Carter15
Tobi felt had played well in the Pecari-Teppenpaw game. Perhaps not so well that their team had won, but then again Tobi didn't really care about things like winning. He did, however, care about things like his brother's feelings, and he did knew that sports were a way which their mother had entreated Arne to release some of his anger. His entire life Arne had been angry, even as a small child when there was nothing to be angry about. The difference between the anger then and now was then it was directed outwards to the town.
Now it was directed towards Tobi and their father. Tobi agreed it wasn't fair the way Father treated them, organized and ranked them from most useful to least with poor Matti at the bottom of the scale, but he loved and respected him enough not to fight him on it. He was still family. So he tried in other ways to make things more fair for his younger siblings. Until the rest of them got to Sonora he wouldn't be able to do much, he realized, but until then he could help Arne out in little ways.
And so that morning, as he could out of bed, he grabbed his wand, a little jar of salve, and crept to the bathroom locking himself inside. Tobi wasn't sure he had the strength to break his hand by falling on it since if he tried that he'd likely not fall right, but he had looked up a jinx in a library book. Before starting the spell, he rubbed the salve on his hand. It was a special mixture his mom made to help relieve pain.
He was hoping that if he did that then he wouldn't feel the pressure for when he actually had to break his hand. The tips of his salve coated fingers tingled as he reached for the wand he had placed on the bathroom sink. He murmured the spell, crumpling to the floor with the pain. He groaned low and tucked his wand into his pajama pants and snuck back out the the bedroom to put it back on his nightstand with the salve. The shower, he needed to fall in the shower....
The sound of running water woke Tobi up and he flexed his wrist in experimentation. It was fine, his hand wasn't broken. It had just been a dream. He rolled over and saw his Teppalus uniform laid out on his nightstand and Tobi knew what he had to do. He got dressed and began to practice his sniffles. By the time he got to Cascade Hall he was almost doing it without thinking and when Laila asked him to pass her the butter he fake-sneezed all over her hand which elicited a grossed out face. When Arne finally showed up, bedraggled and mussy haired, sleep still in his eye, Tobi told him in a very convincing manner that he was too sick to fly and he would be calling on a reserve.
The delight Arne tried to hide on his face was evident The delight Arne tried to hide on his face was evident and Tobi just nodded his head to Liac. Sitting on the sidelines now, sweltering in the weather, Tobi felt good about what he had done. He had lied, sure, but he had also made his brother happy. He didn't really care which of the two of them was the better Beater, but he did care which if the two of them was happy and making Arne happy made Tobi happy. There was a large grin on his face as he watched his team play the Aladren team, and he ignored the pointed look Laila Kennedy gave him when she caught site of the ridiculous face he was sporting. Sometimes you had to make necessary sacrifices for the team. This was one of those times.
10<font color="orange">Tobi Reinhardt, Bench</font>A view from the bench.289<font color="orange">Tobi Reinhardt, Bench</font>05
Francesca thought that the last Quidditch match was just another thing to check off the list. One more task to be accomplished before she finished school, which was something she couldn’t wait for. Sure, the place had been good to her, and she thought she’d miss things about it, but the outside world had seemed a lot more appealing for the last year and a half, at least. She could travel. See something other than the same walls, day in, day out. And she would be dating Jay, properly rather than just by letter. In some ways, it was probably a good thing that he hadn’t been at Sonora with her for her final year. Thoughts about kissing were distracting enough that, more than once, she’d found herself drifting off when she was in class or supposed to be studying. If there had been the actual possibility of slipping off to the MARS rooms or the Labyrinth Gardens, she thought that her grades and reputation might have rather suffered.
However, as the team prepared, she found herself feeling choked up. Quidditch had been a big part of her life here. It had helped her meet Jay. And, rather than be the battle she had expected, it had never lost her any friends. It had been something altogether positive. Her own self-doubt couldn’t help but surface, making her wonder whether any of them except Theodore would miss her when she left. Still, she felt for the first time that she would miss them, or at least playing this game with them.
“Right, it’s a hot one. Everyone should have a cooling charm on - see an older member of the team if you don’t know how to do it. Older people, make sure all the younger ones are covered,” she didn’t want anyone fainting because they’d been too shy of the big students, so made sure the responsibility went both ways. “Take a bottle of water with you, and use the refilling charm as needed.” She had been fretting for most of the morning about how they were going to manage, and how irritating it was that she was the only one old enough to have learnt Augamenti and whether there was any practical way she could keep topping up water bottles whilst doing her job on the pitch, before remembering the simple little charm from first year. It had been a wake up call to go over her older notes, in case she missed any glaringly simple solutions during exam problems.
“It’s been an honour being your captain. And I want us to end this season by showing the school what we’re made of. Don’t under-estimate Teppalus - they’ve been improving - and don’t give me anything except your very best for my last match. Let’s do this.”
She walked out. It was a little odd doing two handshakes. Just… slightly off the usual rhythm of things. But she shook it off, mounting her broom and kicking off sharply. She wanted everything in this match. She wanted to get the Quaffle from the get-go. She wanted a high number of Aladren goals and all of Teppalus’ blocked. She wanted them to get the Snitch and end her season on a win. She dove forward, snatching the red ball out of the air. The sweat had already been beading on her brow and it was a relief to start rushing through the air, generating her own breeze. It was lucky that he instincts were well honed enough now to recognise when it was time to pass. She thought otherwise that the adrenaline rush might have made her try to accomplish all the aims on her match wishlist singlehanded. Checking around, she passed to the nearest Aladren Chaser.
“You know, I'm starting to think that whoever sets the weather around here really hates Quidditch,” Leonidas remarked to his roommate as the team gathered and he resisted the urge to wipe his damp forehead with his sleeve. He had forgotten to bring a handkerchief and felt a little foolish for that.
To his Beating partner, after Francesca noted that they older ones should look after their younger teammates, he added, “Sure you’re not going to melt?” He would be a little surprised if John needed assistance, but far more surprised if he admitted that he did.
To his charge, while Francesca was shaking hands, he was a little gentler. “As long as you’ve got water and the Snitch, we’re good.” He left the part where he would maim anything else that threatened the status quo unspoken, assuming Clark understood but wouldn’t really feel like discussing maiming right now.
He didn’t say anything to Francesca, though he was momentarily tempted to follow her to even up the numbers against the Teppalus co-captains. He thought the better of it, though. For one thing, Francesca was more than up to handling that pair in any context, and for another, it was her last time. That was the reason why it all felt extra-important – he was sure that the boys over there would love the chance to humiliate them now more than ever because of that; Teppenpaws particularly could act like good sports, but Leo didn’t really believe in those – but also why Francesca had a right to as much spotlight as a Chaser could get. She was the first and was probably going to be the last last girl to have this position in ten years. That handshake was practically a little bit of political theater.
His tenure would, hopefully, be free from such complications. He was a straight pureblood male. His older sister had a job and possibly an ongoing affair with her seamstress, but she was decently married, and his brother was betrothed to a Brockert. He was a completely uncontroversial candidate. The worst anyone could say of him was that he was maybe a little too tolerant of Clark and John, but he could answer that by pointing out that the speaker hadn’t volunteered to be his Seeker and Beater, both of whom had to be kept happy if he wanted to win games – annoy either of them too much and they could all too easy ‘accidentally’ fail to catch the Snitch or intercept a Bludger and cost Aladren the victory just for spite. If they could just not start the Muggleborn revolution next year, though, he thought he could get through his tenure without even making that point, especially if the staff did its job and expelled whoever was gossiping about everyone from the groundskeeper to Merlin's cat.
When the whistle blew, he let Clark take the lead, covering him at enough distance that he wouldn’t be in the Seeker’s way but could almost surely get to anything before it got to Clark as long as he paid attention. He thought they might be better off than usual because one of the usual Reinhardts was out for some reason, but thought of that as a good thing more for John than for himself, because surely they’d send the better one after the Seeker. He flew around with his bat at the ready, both because moving at least circulated the air, making it feel a little cooler, and because he had no intention of letting the old Beater or the sub get anywhere close to the fourth year and knew it was only a matter of time before one of the Beaters below hit a Bludger this way just to get rid of it even if his opponent hadn’t decided to bring it up to start the fun.
0<font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font>Watching and waiting269<font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font>05
Clark wasn't a huge fan of extreme heat. This was particularly true only a day after he had narrowly avoided a bad burn in potions when a piece of his notepaper had drifted too close to the fire under his cauldron and burst into flame. He had barely snatched his fingers away in time, escaping a true burn but the skin closest to the conflagration had turned red and was sensitive to the touch. Honestly, his pride had been damaged more than his hand, but the heat and direct sunlight was making it throb a bit as he stepped out onto the pitch as it remembered the intense heat from the day before.
He'd already given himself a general cooling charm when he'd stepped out of the school into the sauna that was the outdoors, but as his hand continued to hurt while Francesca gave her speech, he added a mild numbing charm to it as well. He tested his fingers - naturally, it had been his dominant hand - and he thought he could probably still fly and catch the snitch with it as it was (not that he had much choice since Aladren had no alternates). He'd been to see the medic already and if he could avoid a repeat visit, that would be fantastic.
He wasn't quite able to hide a wince as he gripped his broom tightly in preparation for take off - more from the odd tingling sensation his numbing spell had caused than pain - but he didn't think anybody saw it. Then the whistle blew and he kicked off the ground. His speed as he made his usual circuit around the pitch was perhaps a bit slower than normal, but he made the precise turns he'd calculated for best coverage without error. He tried not to shake his hand to disperse the pins and needles, partly because he didn't want Uzume Shinohara to know he was having problems with it (though as she was in his Potions class, she probably knew anyway) and partly because he worried if the pins and needles left, the throbbing would return.
The hand was taking up more of his attention than he really would have liked, but he hoped that, if anything, the stolen focus would lessen his vigilance for bludgers (Leonidas had his back in that respect) rather than his ability to spot the snitch. He didn't expect to go through his entire Sonora career undefeated, but he liked Francesca and hoped he wouldn't end her last game in a loss because he'd been careless for two minutes yesterday.
Isaac, like all of his family but one, was a slightly-built wizard with pale coloring better suited to the far-distant and naturally much cooler climates that his ancestors had come from than he was to the southwest United States. As he walked over to his team, he was almost prepared to swear the sun really was burning the top of his head and for a moment seriously considered whether he might look good with longer hair next year. Then he remembered both that more hair would probably just make him even hotter and, more importantly still, that his father thought men with hair any longer than his looked like idiots playacting at being dark wizards of a bygone age and would therefore never allow Isaac to do it.
Another miserable day in the neighborhood, he thought.
He looked at Tobias Reinhardt, who did not look all that sick too him, and accepted the inevitable. He could only worry about maintaining his personal dignity in this one, because with an alternate for a Beater, they were doomed. The only way they were not doomed was if Arne was the Arnold Carey of Beaters, and Isaac seriously doubted this. Exceptional Quidditch talent was evidently a trait of Aladren Seekers, Clark Dill evidently inheriting the status of lucky freak of nature with decent Beater support from the last holder of the position.
This, to Isaac’s surprise, prompted very amusing mental images of one of the Careys enchanting a broom, somehow, with part of their brother’s personality – perhaps it had selected Dill, like those magic swords in some old stories? – and of Clark someday strolling into a Carey stronghold and announcing that he, rather than another Carey, was the true Heir of Arnold. Despite knowing that such a tale could only have a tragic end, Isaac had to work to keep a completely straight face as he listened to their co-captains speak. By the time they were done, though, his mind was back on the game, and he kicked off with only a faint hope that a Teppalus would maim Clark today instead of letting the honor go to the Careys.
The honor of first holding the Quaffle had gone to Francesca Wolseithcrafte. He knew his sister Alicia was hoping desperately that she could get Francesca and the rest of the Heritage Society to like her, volunteering for everything and spreading her gold as thick as she could and such, because they were the only halfway-respectable eastern political group she probably stood even half a chance of rising within even with a Pierce husband, but he could not imagine that him intercepting one of Francesca’s passes would make it less likely that Alicia would succeed in this goal. He would have resented the hell out of it, but he thought most people would be indifferent to it even if they knew he was the younger Mrs. Pierce’s half-brother and suspected there was a chance that, as some Aladrens seemed to have a strange notion of honor in competitions, it might actually increase Wolseithcrafte respect for the family. Accordingly, he quickly began to shadow her, and when he saw an opening, he took it.
He had actually gotten pretty good at it, not to mention was playing against an unusually weak Aladren Chasing team, but it never failed to surprise Isaac when his interceptions actually worked. Luckily, he had reluctantly trained enough since he joined up that his body knew what to do even while his mind was busy being surprised. He quickly rose in the air to break away from the Aladren Chasers now on either side of him and then turned back toward Francesca’s brother. As soon as his mind rejoined the party, which didn’t take as long as it once had, he started warily watching for John Umland as he flew. He hated that kid.
He also hated carrying the Quaffle any distance, so after putting a respectable, though not at all ambitious, amount of distance between him and his starting point, he looked for an opportunity to pass to one of his comrades in orange and took it when he found it. He breathed a little more easily once the ball was out of his hands, though never too freely in Quidditch. For one thing, there was always the possibility of interception, and for another, not having the Quaffle didn’t guarantee him safety. Umland could always get it into his head to pick off the other two and leave the one with the Quaffle with nowhere to go, or just to target the modest threat Isaac had just helpfully pointed out that he represented. As Umland's mind was something he could not read and would not want to read if he had the ability, he just couldn't know. Now that he’d made a decent move in the game, he could only hope things continued to go well for him and the other Chasers.
16<font color="orange">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>The road to a Teppalus victory, you mean? Let's go!273<font color="orange">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>05
Andrew stepped outside and immediately had to swallow as the heat washed over him. It was a desert-like heat, not a humid, summer in the south heat, but it was hot enough that he thought it made less of a difference than usual. This was not going to be fun to play in at all.
He made sure to join the rest of the team with a smile on his face. He couldn’t do anything about the sweat already making his thick dark blond hair stick to his forehead, but he tried to look as unaffected by the weather as possible. After feeling embarrassed in the Potions lesson in the Gardens because Fabian knew all about the outdoors but was used to going there alone because all his cousins were girls, Andrew had resolved to do everything he could to keep from looking weak whether he was completely sure it was going to work or not. Smiling almost always worked when he needed to do that.
He wondered for a moment, though, if it was really appropriate to not look worried today, considering that Tobi was supposed to be sick. As the captains spoke, he decided that it probably was. If he was well enough to sit on the bench instead of going to the hospital wing, then he wasn’t going to die any time soon and therefore was less important right now than doing their best against Aladren, which partially included looking unfazed and optimistic. Most of that team was pureblood, after all, and would notice appearances. Andrew had spent far too much of his childhood bored stiff by descriptions of how he should pay attention to people’s faces and trying to guess how stories would end from pictures of facial expressions to doubt that.
Francesca Wolseithcrafte got the ball first, but then Isaac surprised Andrew by intercepting it. He didn’t waste much time thinking about it, though, because following the ball and holding onto it was more important and he and Isaac had passed the ball back and forth okay in games before, which meant there was a good chance Teppalus was going to hold onto the ball for another move.
The pass wasn’t too flashy, but it got the job done. Andrew got his hands on the Quaffle and pulled it in without any interference from Aladren, not even a Bludger. That was a good start, though he didn’t know how long it would last. He varied his flight path a little, trying to avoid spending much time on a straight line, to avoid all the Aladren players in his part of the game until he decided it was time to try to pass. Once he did, he tried a backward pass to one of his teammates, hoping that would confuse the Aladrens, who were most likely expecting Teppalus to stick strictly to the simplest moves because he thought the other Houses still didn’t expect more from them than what they had done last year.
0<font color="orange">Andrew Carey, Chaser</font>It's one of the best roads there is0<font color="orange">Andrew Carey, Chaser</font>05
Arne had felt semi-nauseous before the Pecari game, but fully confident in the fact that he wouldn’t be playing these had died down and been replaced with the anxiety of watching his team try (and fail) to win. That morning he had woken up with a similar feeling in his stomach but he had assured himself that Tobi would be playing again and by the time he had arrived at breakfast, Arne had managed to talk himself out of the worst of it. And then, Tobi broke the news. Though he was thrilled to play, Arne suddenly had the urge to throw up. Additionally, he didn’t quite buy his brother’s sick act. It might have been the strange look Laila gave him when Tobi left breakfast early to “see the Medic about something,” or it might have simply been the glaring fact his brother seemed to have forgotten which was that Tobi had rarely—if not never, been so sick a day in his life that he was unable to perform his daily tasks.
Nevertheless, the family name was at stake—he wasn’t about to let the Reinhardts be called fakers or liars even if Tobi seemed to be willing to risk it all simply to appease him. The idea that his older brother was that concerned over their relationship might have appeased Arne at one point, but he had quickly caught on from letters home that his older brother was the perfect son, diligent, caring, and on top of it all whereas Arne was somewhere in the middle—he was not deficient like Lukas and he wasn’t cute like Hugo and he most definitely was not the only girl like Matti. This placed him in the strange position at home of being overlooked.
So, he scowled at Tobi’s back as his perfect older brother left Cascade Hall and attempted to eat the breakfasty mush that Laila was pushing at him—try as she might to deny that they were friends, Arne knew that she did care about his well being and that she was just the sort of girl (and had always been the sort of girl) to press her services on people even if they didn’t want them—like in that moment. “I’m not eating that,” he snipped, turning up his nose at what he now identified to being oatmeal and sausage. Didn’t this girl know anything about athletics? She had to have—she and her brother were always running around on the beach and he knew that back home she was a part of that crowd who aimed to be all-star athletes and cheerleaders in high school, but seriously, oatmeal?
“Why not? It’s good for you,” she replied, eyebrows going up in earnest. Arne simply shook his head and pushed it away from him. He managed to eat a couple nibbles of a banana but only because Laila was watching and he was half afraid she’d open his mouth and shove the dreaded oatmeal down (though the idea of her being able to accomplish this without getting oatmeal all over the two of them because should she endeavor to do this, he wasn’t going down without a fight) if he didn’t eat anything else. Yet he felt so nauseous and sick to his stomach. After his fourth bite he hurriedly excused himself, snapping at Laila rather harshly as she tried to make him sit down and finish eating, and ran back to the Crotalus dorms where he proceeded to yak up the banana and the orange juice into the toilet before sitting there, still gripping the bowl, dry heaving for all he was worth.
Pregame jitters? Yes, apparently that was going to become a thing and suddenly Arne hated Tobi more than he ever had in his entire life. He cleaned his mouth and dressed himself, heading to the pitch for the last match of the year and his first match off the bench. He smiled tightly to his brother as Tobi went to sit on the bench and kicked off half a second late after Professor Carter blew her whistle to start the match. The acceleration combined with the ascension into the sky only served to further mess with his upset stomach and he closed his eyes, gripping his at a little tighter than necessary, praying to whatever Higher Power there was out there (on the extremely off chance Laila was right about everything) that he would not get sick and fall off his broom within the first few minutes of being in the air. Oh Merlin, that would be the icing on top of the proverbial cake and certainly nothing he would want to write home about!
He opened his eyes just in time to see a Bludger and in a completely panicked mode instead of winding up to hit it towards Clark Dill or one of the Aladren Chasers (perhaps the one who was already in possession of the Quaffle), he jerked his broom and narrowly dodged it, the blood pounding in his ears. No sooner had he made this fatal mistake than he realized what he had done and he wanted to jump off his broom and land on his head and possible break his neck because how stupid could he be? His eyes quickly searched the Pitch—at least the Teppalus Chasers had performed better than himself as Isaac had intercepted the Aladren Captain and was passing the Quaffle to Andrew.
Arne took a deep breath and resolved to do better next time—after all, it had only been the first few minutes. There was still an entire match to go, right? Renewed in this vane (though he would likely be the first member on the team to be found trying to drown himself in the shower if they lost) Arne straightened his shoulders, the adrenaline causing any bit of nausea to go away and he moved on, abandoning his isolated spot to a space where he might have more of a chance to deal with a Bludger the correct way.
After his recent tete-a-tete with Liliana, Theodore was glad it was Teppalus they were facing today and that, as a general rule, the Pecari would always be at the other end of the pitch from him. Still, he imagined that lining up whilst the captains shook hands would have been enough time for her to catch his eye. He already felt like she was under his skin. That their Quidditch performances - in general, but especially against each other - were going to add fuel to the fire. She’d made it pretty clear that she liked to tease. Even without playing him today, she’d managed to get that in this morning by donning the opposite team’s colours. It wasn’t like Liliana had any loyalty to either side, having no close friends on either team, so the only reason he could think that she had done it was to try to deliberately annoy him. Which, of course, wasn’t working, because it wasn’t like there was anything romantic between them, so why would he care who she supported? It was fine. It was nothing to do with him. He dragged his eyes back to the centre, finding he’d been scanning the crowd.
He wasn’t a fan of the heat but by now was used to Sonora throwing its worst at them on Quidditch days. At least they had magic to help them. He had no idea how Muggles coped with such things. He tried to put it to the back of his mind, although it seemed more determined to drag back the details he and Liliana had shared about post-match drinks, and to imagine sharing a lemonade and a bit more besides with her after the game. His rational side just about won out against that, given that Liliana was unlikely to be cheering his victory, and allowed him to put that thought back in its box. He had to do his best today. It was Francesca’s last match and if he was daydreaming at the hoops, he wouldn’t forgive himself.
He kicked off as the whistle blew. It was always easier to get into the headspace of a match once you were in it. Beforehand was where most of the psychology came in, but once you were up there, you had to pay attention - both by dint of habit and because there were other people and iron balls flying at you. He made his way to the hoops, turning to see his sister holding the Quaffle and catch Arne Reinhardt ducking a Bludger. He didn’t feel they’d needed the substitution to stand a good chance against the other team, as both their Beaters were more experienced, but it was gratifying to see Teppalus slip up. They had been undoubtedly improving, whilst Aladren had lost good players and replaced them with rookies. It was always nice to see the opposition having problems, and the cracks showing under pressure. Speaking of which though, the Quaffle was intercepted on the first pass. He sighed. The Chasing team really had gone from being the pride of the team to their weakest point. He circled the goals. Leonidas could defend Clark quite ably. He could defend here. They still had enough strength on their side to make it work.
13<font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>Ready to defend270<font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>05
Quidditch matches at Sonora Academy seemed to be jinxed with bad weather. Last time it had been cold and windy and now it was far hotter than ideal for playing conditions. Alistair knew from the moment he woke up that it would be a tough match, going up against Sonora’s reigning champions in the harsh desert heat. What’s more, it was the last match of the year and the Aladren Captain’s last game at Sonora ever so he didn’t doubt that they would be more intent than ever to thrash Teppalus. These thoughts didn’t dull his determination to prove just how much his team had come along even since their last match, although he still found himself longing for a better team to work with.
Alistair went down to breakfast feeling fairly confident despite the fact that he was about to go up against the unforgiving Aladren team. It was only when he was informed that Tobi Reinhardt would be sitting the game out that a knot of nerves grew in his stomach. Wasn’t this what he had wanted all along? To pull fellow Crotalus Arne Reinhardt out of reserves? But now that it came down to it, Ali realised what it meant to leave his personal indifferences on the sidelines. No matter how much he disliked Tobi, he couldn’t pretend that it was nice being able to rely on the two older Reinhardt boys performing their duties on the Pitch. It wasn’t necessarily that he doubted Arne’s abilities but this would be the sassy first year’s very first match and Alistair knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on himself when there was an inexperienced kid protecting his Seeker.
That’s why he ignored the usual routine of leaving Beater decisions to Liac as he made his pre match peptalk. “Okay team, it’s really hot out here so make sure you drink up and keep yourselves hydrated. This is going to be a tough one but it’s nothing we’re not capable of winning.” Alistair wasn’t normally a nervous kind of person but their was a new element of doubt that he was feeling about today’s match. “Liac, you’ll have to mark Shinohara this match and Arne can cover us Chasers.” He glanced at Arne briefly, giving the younger kid a reassuring clap on the back that went against all Alistair mannerisms. “You’ll do great. Chasers, we should be dominating this match - we’ve got a stronger set up. Ginger,” Alistair paused, for once not actually sure what he wanted to say to his ‘star pupil’. Was it the nerves that were getting to him or something else entirely? “You know what to do. And Shinohara…” He wasn’t proud of his sudden inability to give sound advice, but perhaps he could allow his co-captain to take more of a lead for once. “...just catch that Snitch before Aladren do.” His tone and phrasing could have been put better, the whole point of a pep-talk was to inspire his team but he sounded completely tired of the fact that Teppalus had never managed to catch the Snitch first. Shinohara obviously knew what her job was so he had given her absolutely no helpful input whatsoever. “This is our last match of the year so let’s make it a good one.” He was tempted to mention that it may be their last game as Teppalus if they had any luck next year but he couldn’t think of a way to make that sound at all positive.
As he walked toward the Aladren Captain and shook hands he was slightly distracted, scanning the crowd for a certain face. That being said, he wasn’t so rude as to not make eye contact with Francesca Wolseithcrafte in their brief exchange. He flashed her a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes, feeling mildly disappointed that he’d never get the chance to play against her again. Of course, this was a feeling that he would obviously never admit to anyone. As he mounted his broom, Alistair resumed his searching for Joella in the spectator stands. As a crazy Quidditch-lover Joella always turned up to watch the matches she wasn’t in but when he finally spotted her red-clad figure, he knew she was here for him more than anything. This was what he needed know to get his mind to focus and ignore those doubts in the back of his mind, strange as it was for someone so independent and hardheaded.
The second the whistle was blown he was up in the air, racing for the first touch of the Quaffle. For someone who prided himself particularly in speed, Alistair rarely seemed to come out of the initial mess with the leather ball in hand. It took him a moment to realise that the Aladren Captain was already making off with it down the pitch and get his bearings as to where his teammates were but once he had, the Crotalus Captain was off on his course of action.
Alistair had never liked the way that Isaac Douglas played; the older boy lacked all the finesse that the second year himself had spent so long perfecting. But at least the fifth year got the job done, intercepting Francesca Wolseithcrafte’s pass. He didn’t travel with it for too long but his pass to Andrew Carey went smoothly. The Teppalus Chasers seemed to be working well together and Alistair changed direction back up the pitch accordingly. He was behind Carey at this point but the Teppenpaw was changing his angle continuously so Ali decided to stick to his course until he could figure out the best position to receive a pass. When a reverse pass came his way, he was a little surprised but not so much so that he hesitated in maneuvering to catch it. The accuracy wasn’t bad and he was able to collect the ball before the oppostion managed to get their hands on it.
With the scarlet ball tucked firmly under his arm, Alistair powered forward on his broom. He ignored the intense heat raining down on him as he sped closer toward Francesca’s brother at the Aladren hoops, keeping an eye out for bludgers, perhaps more so than usual due to an unintentional lack of faith in Arne Reinhardt’s abilities under the pressure of a real match. He flew upwards slightly as he went and if anyone were to know his team playing flaws they might have actually thought he was selfish enough to try and make the whole distance to the scoring area alone. But even Alistair had learned it was too far for him to go alone and that he’d likely be taken out well before he got anywhere near the goals so once he’d gained enough distance and height, he checked for an orange-robed player and dropped the Quaffle down to them, hoping that the Aladren Chasers marking and tailing him wouldn’t be too quick to intercept a ball going a different direction than the norm for Teppalus passes.
8<font color='orange'>Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>We are definitely on that road right now.306<font color='orange'>Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>05
Francesca muttered several obscenities in her head as Teppalus took possession. It only went from bad to worse as they continued to pass with the rest of the Aladren Chasers not managing to stop them. Sometimes, she felt as if she was carrying the entire Chasing team. Though gallingly enough she felt that wasn’t something she could criticise for. It was part of the problem of being captain… Surely, if her Chasers were weak, that was as much her fault as theirs. If she tried to blame them, wasn’t she just highlighting her own failure? And what could she even blame them for? They worked hard, tried hard. Essentially, wouldn’t she be being angry at them for being the youngest ones out there? And there was no logic to that.
She channelled her focus instead into recovering the Quaffle. It would be hard to make up the distance but she decided that the best and only option was to throw subtlety and caution to the wind. Arne Reinhardt was scarcely an intimidating prospect. She made a beeline, flying as straight and as fast as she could back towards the action. She missed the first pass, and the second - but that being a backwards pass gave her some precious extra seconds. It was hard to gauge whether they would go for it on the final stretch. The Chasers still seemed a little spooked by the notion of going a long way with the Quaffle.
As Alistair Johnson climbed, she thought that would be it. Teppalus weren’t known for passing well from the position. Still, it wasn’t over until it was over. If she wanted any hope of holding her ground against these Chasers, she would have to fight for every last inch. Or hope for them all to become horribly incapacitated. Her determination was rewarded, as Alistair tried to drop the ball downwards. She leapt in, feeling herself bump slightly against another player as she did so, but coming away victorious.
It was tempting to just go for it. With a rookie Beater defending the Teppalus Chasers, she was in a strong position to just try out-running them. The bigger threat was having all three Chaser converge on her at once (an image which was amusingly like having three little puppies excitedly tripping around her feet because she’d stolen their favourite ball - she grinned slightly hysterically) and that would take time for her opponents to organise.
She knew, really, that she couldn’t. That there was no I in team, and all that, and that - as the strongest Chaser on the team, she really couldn’t take the risk (however small) of being hit with a Bludger or forced to collide with something. Still, she put in a longer than average stretch before looking for a chance. Seeing a blue-clad player nearby, she threw as firmly as she could, hoping that luck was with them this time.
13<font color='blue'>Capt Francesca W, Chaser</font>You take the high road, I'll take the low road250<font color='blue'>Capt Francesca W, Chaser</font>05
One… two… three… Theodore eyed the Teppalus Chasers. The third player was often in a strong position to make an attempt on goal, although they looked as though they might need one more to make it safely. He could see Francesca gaining on them. If they made one more pass, he felt that his sister had a decent shot at intercepting. If not, he would be ready. In some ways, an attempt on goal wouldn’t be the worst thing at this stage of the match, so long as he caught it. He could stall a little, give their Chasers time to regroup and get into good positions before he threw back out…
But it didn’t come to that. Francesca had closed the gap and had the Quaffle back. Though, for how long, who knew? He switched his attention to John, who was also a decent bit of firepower as far as Aladren were concerned, especially as Teppalus had fielded a rookie who was scared of Bludgers. And a good Beater could make for more even odds amongst the Chasers. The first few minutes of the match showed that they were in desperate need of that.
Break their arms, he thought. That’ll slow them down.
The Teppalus Chasers were, he was sorry to say, currently running rings around them, and that did not make for a good show. But Aladren had the strength to counter that, he was sure of it. And once the rest of the players got involved, he thought this match might start to look a little more even.
13<font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>Ready and waiting....270<font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>05
During supper some nights before the Aladren-Teppalus game, John had felt as though the world was falling in around his ears. He had been frozen in place with shock and dread, not sure whether to stand or run, where he ought to take whichever measure he selected, or how to even begin to solve the massive problem in front of him. For the first time since he was a very small boy, he had felt that the situation he was in was completely out of any and everyone's control, an airplane with no pilot spinning freely toward the ground.
Then he had eaten his dessert. Taken notes on arguments between chessmen. Had a conversation. Had a bath. Gone to sleep. Gone to class. Seen how the rest of the world was still functioning, seemingly oblivious to the scarlet letter on his chest whenever he answered any comments on the latest gossip with dismissive comments of his own about how ridiculous it was to get all worked up about vague allegations made against no one in particular and without a shred of evidence to back them up. It had taken a while, but slowly, surely, John had realized the world was still in business despite his troubles. This, like almost everything else, was just a blip on the big screen of life.
The world had, however, become a much more serious and less comfortable place for him than it had been, and Quidditch began to feel like a frivolous distraction from serious matters such as trying to figure a way out of his predicament and learning as much magic as he could in the meantime in case he failed in his quest and got thrown out of school. Perversely, and much to John's chagrin, this lack of importance in the big scheme of things only served to make Quidditch suddenly and irresistibly more appealing. He began to practice on his own in the sports room again, relishing how very simple life felt when he was swinging a club at a quasi-sentient and deeply hostile cannonball as a sport. He was the first at team practices whenever possible. He nearly suggested a team-building exercise and a party to honor Francesca before he realized this would surely lead to comments about missorted Teppenpaws that would haunt him for the rest of his years at Sonora if he had any. He re-read the books on Beating. He felt half-possessed. Somehow, it made sense to him that if he did this one thing right, the rest of the disjointed puzzle pieces around him would fall into place. He knew it was irrational, but he believed it anyway.
This contradiction made him occasionally wonder if auto-decapitation was the answer to his other problems that he was looking for, but on the morning of the match, he still woke up in the best spirits he'd experienced in what felt like forever. These lasted as long as it took to get outside and see the weather. It was brutally hot. He cast a cooling charm on himself and forced a wan smile for Leonidas.
"I carry too much of my cold, frozen homeland in my heart for the rest of me to melt," he assured his teammate, then wished he hadn't. It reminded him of the hottest summer day at home he could remember, which had been pleasant compared to today. He took a drink of water, prayed against a headache, and wondered if extreme conditions would mean extended time-outs long enough for everyone to have a bathroom break in or if they would all sweat the water in their bottles out so fast that it wouldn't matter.
If anyone would, it would be him or Leonidas. Beating was the most exertion-heavy of the Quidditch tasks. The broom did far less of the work for the player than he thought it did for the other positions, and while Chasers did have to stretch and put some force into their throws, it wasn't the same as hitting an iron ball which was actively resisting going where he wanted it to go. It was going to take everything he had to defend the Chasers today, and he found himself thinking that Leonidas and Clark might have an easier task.
He frowned slightly when he saw the little Reinhardt off the bench and Tobias on it, making a mental note to ask after Tobias' health the next time he saw him in class. They didn’t approach their interests in exactly the same way, but John liked Tobias off the Pitch. Then the whistle blew and he forgot about everything but his job.
Find the Bludger. Lock onto the target. Hit the Bludger. There were whole books on strategy written for Beaters, complicated factors to consider, things John thought he might like to experiment with someday when he and Clark were the captains, but at its most basic, those three things were what John's primary sport consisted of. He set out to do that, but lagged behind the Chasers for a moment as the Quaffle endured its first change of hands of the day, surprised by the game's sudden turn in Teppalus' favor and by Francesca not immediately recapturing the ball from Douglas and Carey. It was still hard to think of anyone on Teppalus being more competent on the Pitch than John had been the year he played Chaser.
That was ridiculous, of course. Past behavior was often indicative of future behavior, but that was a thought-ending cliché and a red herring fallacy rolled into one. Argumentum ad antiquitatem (he thought that would be the one; the Teppali have always been lousy players, therefore the Teppali must still be lousy players) was not his friend, so it was both morally and logically unsound for him to think it ought to apply to others. His mother had done her best with what she had to work with, but there were times when John thought he had gotten into Aladren solely on love of learning. Irritated with himself, he looked for a Bludger so he could interfere with the Teppalus Chasers as much as all these inconvenient emotions interfered with his thinking.
Locating one – what was little Reinhardt doing? He’d just hit it at…nothing, as far as John could tell – he accounted for the positions of his teammates and then smacked the Bludger as hard as he could toward one of the orange robes, glad Francesca had the Quaffle back and that he could therefore hit whoever he wanted without worrying too much about accidentally foiling an interception. He always accounted for such things before he hit the ball, but everyone could move around in the blink of an eye, long before the Bludger got from its starting point to the destination he intended for it. Quidditch, of all the sports he had ever seen, seemed to best demonstrate that no plan survived first contact with the enemy. That was a large part of what made it fun.
16<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>I'm opting for the path of violence.285<font color="blue">John Umland, Beater</font>05
This one, Jake knew, was going to be the game that Teppalus finally won.
Admittedly, he woke up with that feeling every game, as convinced as the last one if not more, but today was most certainly different. He had seen it in a dream, an astounding victory, with orange defeating blue, the Snitch tucked triumphantly in Shino’s hand, a big smile on her face that spread contagiously throughout the team. And they were a team. Two Houses, one team. United.
And then Ginger kissed his cheek and he blushed so hard he woke himself up.
That last part was totally not going to happen, but the rest of it he interpreted as a sign. Even if he didn’t want to, it kept turning over and over in his head as he went about his day, getting dressed, eating breakfast, the whole shebang. He couldn’t have ignored it if he chose to. That had to mean something.
And besides, Teppalus was due for a win. They were yet to get one, which was unfortunate but not permanent. Aladren had more experienced players, but there was no divine rule stating that they were the only ones who could win. Plus, if they beat Aladren after Aladren beat Pecari and Pecari had beat them, it would equate to everyone getting to feel the excitement of victory, everyone having opportunity to learn from defeat, everyone being equal, and, above all else, everyone having fun.
So as the rest of the team took their positions on the field, the fourth year settled into his bench seat, today with Tobi instead of Arne Reinhardt, the Reserve switched in for the day. Jake too had the chance to fill a main-roster player’s position, having been told before that perhaps he and Shino could take turns and switch off games, but he was fine with being on the bench. Really, the team experience was what he was after, not the sport itself. Shino seemed to have more competitive passion, and, with her having had the position for a while now, she also had more experience.
“Go, Teppalus!” he cheered from the sidelines, finding himself rocketed to his feet by the action of the game. “You guys got this!”
12<font color="orange">Jake Manger, Bench</font>A few views from the same bench.280<font color="orange">Jake Manger, Bench</font>05
Uzu could feel her freshly braided hair already dampening with sweat even before leaving the common room. These Spanish structures weren’t very airy, or perhaps this was really as good as the mud brick structures could do in this killer heat. She pursed her lips as she pondered similar light thoughts on her way down to the pitch. Luckily charms were the teenager’s specialty so keeping her body cool wasn’t really the problem, it was the sweltering sun’s rays that her black hair attracted like a magnet. Casting one more charm on her hair in a vain attempt to keep the strands from baking her brains, she joined the rest of the team in what would be their last game of the year- about time.
Team huddles was usually the time she reserved for admiring her nails, or daydreaming about what food she would treat herself to post-game. Green tea ice cream definitely seemed like the choice of the day, perhaps she would even invite Jamie to join her- assuming he wasn’t being too annoying today. ‘What name should I call him today?’ the Crotali pondered internally, twisting the braid Mackenzie had painstakingly done for her. ‘Lacky? - no, too boring. Dumphead? No that’s not right…”she thought already forgetting the phrase. ‘What was that name?’ she thought, feeling as though it was on the tip of her tongue. Unfortunately her thinking was interrupted by the chibi-captain.
“Ehh?” she couldn’t help but mutter once she heard that Liac-kun would be guarding her rather than Tobi-kun’s miniature copy. Guided by her annoyance, Uzu’s eyebrow moved on its own to an arched position. Just what was the little boy saying about her? That she needed Liac-kun? That she couldn’t take care of herself? Crossing her arms she gritted her teeth, waiting patiently for the boy to finish huffing and puffing before she told him off. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she had yet to catch a Snitch, but she had never fallen off her broom due to a Bludger either. There was NO excuse as to why Liac-kun would need to be guarding her.
“Chib-” she said as she moved to confront the little brat of a captain. However, Liac was on her in a flash, pulling her away by the shoulders and towards the line up on the field. “Comon’ Shino!” he said in an overly chipper tone, “follow what the captains say right?” he said giving her a wink. For the second time in ten minutes, her face acted of its own accord, eyes widening and her face falling into a grimace.
“Don’t be so familiar with me,” she said bitterly shaking his hand off her shoulder as she tired to compose herself. She didn’t want him to think he could be passing her around like a Quaffle just because she was a girl. Liac-kun was annoying, but Uzume found his strange ways somewhat reliable. Besides he was the type of idiot that said what he really thought most of the time, so she didn’t mind going along with him for the time being. Once they kicked of, Uzu headed over to what she thought looked like an appropriate patch of sky- Liac-kun trailing close behind as instructed. Taking a breath to clear he mind of the tense atmosphere, she slowed her breathing so that she might concentrate on her job. One of the many great things about her position was the fact that she could block out most of the other players on the field as she pleased. Despite this, she made sure to keep an eye on Liac-kun. Teppulas Team politics really didn’t involve her much, but he was up to something, and lucky her got a front row seat.
OOC: Liac is my character
0<font color="orange">Shinohara, Seeker</font>Say it ain't so...0<font color="orange">Shinohara, Seeker</font>05
Tobi gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as Alistair took off from the ground. His co-captain’s words were still echoing in his mind though he had to let it go and trust that Liac and Arne would be able to sync nearly as well as he and Liac did, that Liac and Arne would be able to pull off a proper coup, to show Alistair that he was not as perfect as he might think. It mattered even less to Tobi whether or not they won the match. He had been willing to forfeit the match if it meant his brother could play—now he was even more willing to let Aladren (and Francesca Wolseithcrafte) have one last victory if it meant taking Alistair down a peg.
As Jake cheered Teppalus on, Tobi felt a very uncharacteristic grin sliding across his face. “Come on Teppalus!” he shouted, taking care to close his throat part way so that the sound came out hoarse and he had to take a break to cough. “Let’s go, Reinhardts! You’ve got this!”
He was momentarily distracted as he saw the glorious braid the redhead beauty had put in Shino’s glossy black hair and took a moment to catch his breath, closing his eyes glad that he could chalk the odd behavior and loss of breath up to the fake illness he had feigned. There were just too many girls with absolutely wonderful hair—all kind of girls with wonderful shades of brown, red, and blonde. Beautiful, shiny, healthy locks. Tobi swallowed hard and turned away from Jake, trying to suppress the heat that was quickly rising in his cheeks.
Now is not the time to be fantasizing about hair, Tobias! he scolded himself. He had a match to focus on, a co-captain to humble, a brother to support, a team to cheer on. He could think about his classmates’ hair at another, more appropriate time. That settled he turned back his attention to the match just in time to watch Liac and Arne put the plan into motion, smiling as he watched it begin to unfold. Oh, how he hoped it would work!
10<font color="orange">Tobi, Bench</font>Some insights from that same bench.289<font color="orange">Tobi, Bench</font>05
It was going to be a hot one, but Liac felt entirely ready for it. Getting out of bed wasn’t so much a chore now that the sun was rising early each day. Liac always fancied himself more of an early bird than a night owl, which worked perfectly since being a captain meant being more than punctual. His co-captain on the other hand, Liac wished could have just slept in and missed the game. He was, for lack of better words, getting under his skin. Liac had been handling it in quite a Teppenpaw manner so far, but he had vowed that if the time came he would put his foot down.
The morning proceeded smoothly for the most part, however things took a turn as Alistair decided to tell himself as well as his Beaters where to go. He fought the urge to smack the bigheaded captain with his broom and replace him with the feigning sick Tobi, but common sense urged him not to. Liac looked to Tobi who at this point looked visibly pissed. It was almost a little nostalgic of their first year when Liac had hooked Tobi up with an older date to the ball… aww memories. But this wasn’t the time for reminiscing, and Liac’s eyes silently echoed a plan to Tobi. The two boys had grown up together, shared a room for the past three years, and practically spent all their free time together. At this point Liac trusted Tobi was on the same page as him, especially since it was him that had been urging Liac to stick it to Alister.
“Okay team, we have come a long way this year. And every one of us has improved. No matter how this game ends, rest assured you can hold your head high as proud as proud member of the Teppulas team. So…” he said glancing from Tobi to Arne inconspicuously, “let’s go out there and shake things up!” Liac cheered.
* * * * *
With Shino now clued in, Liac felt confident that everyone was on the same page as they moved to line up. Although Liac initially felt pissed, he was now more excited than anything. Nothing got his blood pumping more than Quidditch and surprises. Now all they had to do was pull it off.
He began the game as instructed, following behind Shino. She wasn’t in too bad of a spot, no doubt she was just as cautious of the situation as he was. Liac watched the game progress, waiting for an opening. He wasn’t lying when he said that they had improved, and the fact that their Chasers were doing well so far was proof of how hard they had worked. Glancing across the field to the newest addition, so far Arne seemed better at avoiding Bludgers than hitting them- although perhaps it was part of a bigger plan of Arne’s? He would have liked to see where his little cousin went with his solo play, however the cling of a Bludger quickly caught his attention.
John had just smacked a Bludger toward his Chasers. It was now or never! “Stay put Shino!” Liac called as he flew as fast as he could toward the action. “Arne!” he bellowed at his cousin against the wind. Even if he didn’t hear him, Arne knew the plan and Liac was confident enough in Shino’s skills to leave he unattended momentarily. Besides, this John’s Bludger was about to change into his control. Intercepting the iron ball, Liac poured all his frustration into his swing, whacking the Bludger in a fluid backhanded motion toward an Aladren Chaser. Apparently Arne had a similar idea, since his was also directed towards an Aladren Chaser. Liac felt an overwhelming feeling pride for his kin. He was definitely part of the best family in the world.
OOC: Permissions to address characters given by Author.
0<font color="orange">Cap'n Liac, Beater</font>Throwing down the hammer288<font color="orange">Cap'n Liac, Beater</font>05
Arne couldn’t believe his ears as Alistair Johnson of the Arizona Johnsons attempted to boss his cousin around. He glanced towards his older brother, seeing how Tobi bristled at the comment. For half a moment he thought that Tobi was actually going to throw down and fight Alistair right there but then he would have to admit that he had only been pretending to be sick and Arne knew Tobi cared more about Arne getting his chance to play. Besides, if the looks Tobi and Liac were exchanging was anything to go by then his cousin could more than take care of himself. He grinned, hoping this meant his passive elders were coming up with a plan—he was not disappointed as Tobi grabbed him aside on his way to the bench.
“Liac wants you to switch with him,” he hissed under his breath. “A few minutes into the game so Alistair doesn’t see what’s coming, got that?”
Arne nodded briefly, the excitement from being able to soon disobey an authority figure (with permission!) in combination with the pre-game jitters that were still destroying his insides causing him to kick off later than he could have liked. These thoughts that were attacking all his senses were the same thoughts that caused him to duck that bludger instead of hitting it but as he took in all the action that had been occurring over the course of the game and looked towards Liac and Shino and knew that now was the time to put their plan in action. He turned his broom sharply, moving towards where Liac and Shino were flying.
Leaving the Chasers alone meant that Liac would have to deal with the bludger that John Umland looked to be about to hit—which was fine with Arne, and he paced himself at about the distance he had always observed Tobi at when guarding Shino. Don’t worry,” he called to her loud enough that she would be able to hear but quiet enough that it didn’t betray to Aladren that he was feeling slightly insecure. “I won’t mess up again.”
As he spoke he felt the rush of that horrid bludger he had missed early coming back towards him—having found no one on the other side it had decided to attack the nearest warm body and Arne wound up, hitting the evil metal ball as hard as he could in the direction of the Aladren Chasers. He didn’t care about Clark just then, he just needed to keep the bludger away from Shino and hitting it at the blue Chasers seemed to be the perfect spot for that.
10<font color="orange">Arne, Beater</font>I will not go.319<font color="orange">Arne, Beater</font>05
Teppenpaws weren’t necessarily stupid and John was comfortable with that fact. At the end of the day, though, while he would have taken Tobias, his sister Julian was still the only one of them John really wanted for Aladren. John couldn’t make out exactly what Liac was yelling, but him yelling it made John look up, which gave him a moment’s warning as Liac left Shinohara. From the corner of his eye John also saw the less skilled Reinhardt rising toward her.
His opinion of Liac’s intelligence took a painful hit. He was letting a kid who seemed afraid of Bludgers guard his Seeker against the most experienced Beater in the school for even a minute when it was not necessary. Yeah. That was smart. Not. John knew they had reserves, but that was like sacrificing one’s Queen to capture a pawn in the beginning of the game and hoping to get a pawn down the board to replace her later. His opinion of Liac then fell further because of how Liac hit the Bludger when he intercepted it. Backhands looked flashy, but one couldn’t really put one’s back into them, and they were not here to look flashy. They were just Beaters. Their job was to break heads, not turn them.
He deflected the Bludger toward the orange Chaser furthest from Liac, then glanced up to see if Leonidas was giving the new boy helpful lessons on how to be less awful. Instead, he saw the new boy, from near his Seeker, hitting the other Bludger back…toward the Chasers.
Was he trying to cripple the Chasing team (increasing Teppalus’ chance of collecting House points through scores) or was he just stupid? John had wondered something similar when Tobias and Liac ganged up on him last year. This time, since Arne would’ve been a bit far off for him to call himself ganged up on even if Arne had been a better player, John decided his opponent was at least temporarily just stupid. Still possibly a problem, though. Cursing his less-than-top-of-the-line broom, John flew to intercept the second Bludger as well and, without much time to think, hit it toward Ginger just to get it away from his charges. It was too far away from her, he thought, to call it attacking the Keeper when the Quaffle was not in the scoring area, someone (hopefully Leonidas) would retrieve it long before it got anywhere near her or else the Chasers would catch up to it and force him to go for it again, but at least it would stay out of his hair long enough for him to figure out where the first Bludger had gotten to and hopefully catch his breath. His hands felt like they were sweating inside his Beater gloves as he adjusted his grip on his bat, which was decidedly uncomfortable. He prayed against his immediate situation devolving into a close-quarters melee.
Leonidas had seen Clark injure his hand in Potions, but was relieved to see the Seeker going through his usual circuits without much apparent difficulty. If they ever got any decent opposing Beaters, he might have to work with Clark on being predictable, but since the Teppalus reserve appeared better at avoiding Bludgers than hitting them....
That was amusing, though less than it would have been if the Teppalus Chasers had been less lucky. Politics aside, Leonidas knew he was going to miss Francesca next year unless a young Chasing genius - or better yet, a posse of them - was Sorted into Aladren, because the two they'd have left weren't on her level and he had no firsthand experience of playing their position to draw on in training them. He'd practiced a few times, but there was nothing like doing it all the time and in games. John had played games as a Chaser, but not very well. Leo thought he did much better as a Beater, though he knew he was biased, being the one who had trained him....
He wasn't without flaw, though. Leonidas saw trouble coming when the Reinhardt boys started changing positions, though the form it took confused him for a moment. Still, it seemed "go for the Chasers" was a favored Reinhardt tactic and something he and John were going to have to come up with detailed strategies to combat the next time they crossed bats with Liac and whichever of his relations he played with next time. John could only dart from place to place so much in good weather, especially on that broom, and Clark might well panic if he saw the rest of the team picked off like flies. He and John were both - flighty, he guessed, sometimes, each in his own way. Maybe it was something about how the Muggle-influenced raised their children....
If he'd been John, he might have considered letting the second Bludger go, but given the condition the Chasers were already in, he could understand trying to juggle both Bludgers at once. He could have also wished for the second Bludger to go toward a Teppalus Chaser, but he did remember how stressful things could get in the heat of the game from when James Carey had been on Seeker and Leo had been with the Chasers. Now that Teppalus was flying better, the Chasers just outstripping them and leaving them to be picked off happened less, making every hit at least a little hazardous to their own people. He signaled to Clark that he was going to move, hoping the Seeker would keep where Leo could reach him easily and where Leo was between him and the Bludger even if it was hit straight back to him, and went to scoop up the loose Bludger.
He gave it a quick, hard tap to change its direction, then a good swing to get it going. Reinhardt didn't seem quick with the Bludgers, it had approached him before, so Leo held out a hope it would sail to the Seeker without him thinking to deliberately intervene.
0<font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font>Feel free to stay out of my way269<font color="blue">Leonidas Bennett, Beater</font>05
Ginger dealt with heat far better than with cold. That did not, however, stop her from groaning as soon as she stepped out of the school and saying, "Seriously?" Given that the weather here was controlled by charms, she felt someone really ought to consult them before scheduling Quidditch games.
At least she was a Keeper; that meant she didn't need to exert herself too much except for the brief periods when the opposing Chasers were threatening her goals. As the game began and Teppalus made an interception, then kept going down the Pitch with two successful passes, she began to wonder if she was going to be lucky enough not to have to exert herself at all today.
That thought apparently jinxed it, and she mentally apologized profusely to the Chasers who had, up until that point, fairly dominated control of the Quaffle. Francesca was still on the far distant side of the Pitch though (albeit, changing that relative distance swiftly) and both Teppalus beaters seemed to have it in for the Aladren Chasers, so Ginger stole a moment to search the stands for Lilliana, hoping for a wave of encouragement or something in case the Aladrens did manage to make it all the way back to her. The older Pecari had been an invaluable teacher and friend, so much so that Ginger was barely feeling at all intimidated this game, even going up against the school's reigning champions.
Though, to be fair, the fact that Aladren's chaser team included both a first and second year and only one truly good player helped lessen the team's scariness a lot, and made it feel much more like she was up against peers instead of the near-professionals they had seemed last year when she had no experience or training.
Having a fifth year (and prefect, no less!) as a friend now helped in that regard, too. The older students no longer seemed quite so unapproachable and two steps away from being staff themselves.
It took a bit of searching (interrupted periodically to check on the progress of the Quaffle), but she did spot Lilliana eventually. She was wearing yellow!
Feeling like her chest might burst from such an overt sign of support, Ginger turned back to the game in progress with a smile that couldn't be dimmed and a renewed confidence that this was her game. This would be the day she finally made a save.
Assuming, of course, her Teppalus teammates even let the ball get to her side of the pitch again. And if they didn't, well, that would be okay, too.
Louis had woken early that morning, excited for the second match of his school career. Unlike last time, he'd had no problem eating, the nerves not kicking in until he stood on the pitch, facing the Teppalus players. With a gulp he mounted his broom – a top-of-the-range model that his father had bought him before he’d left.
He spent the first few minutes of the game hovering near the action, trying to be in good position if passed to. He followed the ball as it was passed around, trying to intercept but not really knowing the Teppalus team’s weaknesses well enough.
Louis smiled tightly as Francesca intercepted the quaffle. Now they had it, he had no intention of letting the Teppalus chasers take it back. He kept pace with Francesca as she flew up the pitch, thinking that it looked like she’d increased the distance between herself and the orange players.
It was a good throw, but Louis slightly fumbled as he caught the quaffle. Clutching it tightly, he squashed down his nervousness, continuing the journey towards the goal. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to check he wasn’t in immediate danger from the opposing chasers, and also to see where the other Aladren chasers were in case a strategic pass was needed.
Thinking the Teppalus players could be a problem, Louis passed to the nearest Aladren chaser, repositioning himself as soon as the quaff let had left his hands to be ready to support as needed.
9<font color='blue'>Louis Valois, Chaser</font> And we'll reach the goal posts before them!314<font color='blue'>Louis Valois, Chaser</font> 05
Francesca almost cheered as Louis caught the Quaffle. She had been too busy during the opening minutes of the match to notice his indecisive hovering but that was an advantage of having a brother who played Keeper - she would get a detailed post-match report. In theory, Leonidas should have been her second set of eyes, as assistant captain, but Theodore’s position leant itself so much more to watching the action, especially amongst the Chasers. It didn’t take anything away from Leonidas’ contribution, in her eyes, to look to Theodore in this way - Leonidas managed the Beaters (something neither of them knew) and had taken Clark and John under his wing. He was good with people in a way Theodore wasn’t - although her brother seemed to be on good terms with both those boys, she wasn’t sure that would extend to a trainer-trainee relationship. They seemed to like talking about science and chess together, and would probably be good at getting into entirely theoretical tactical discussions rather than getting on with any actual exercises.
Speaking of John, she couldn’t help but think that things were on the up thanks to his contributions. She hadn’t seen whether his shots connected, but there was the sound of a bat on iron, and she could see enough from her peripheral vision to know that a good number of those were John having their backs. Having a clear, Bludger-free space to get into had probably helped Louis’ confidence. If any Teppalus players got taken out, that would be a bonus.
She stuck close to the younger boy, though kept an eye out for Jack Spencer too. She didn’t want to hog the ball, or seem like she didn’t trust them. However, when Louis came to pass, it was her that was in the best position. She grinned at him as she took the ball back, making a mental note to give him some praise later on for that.
One, two, three… It was often the third player in a chain that made an attempt at goal. They’d started from quite far back, and it was one of those borderline cases. A pass was risky, as was attempting the rest of the run. But the biggest risk in that was getting the Beaters pouring down on her, and her Beaters were stronger than both the other team’s and her fellow Chasers. Plus, it would be her or the next in line to take the goal. And she was the stronger…. Of course, the younger kids needed a chance to try. They would be the older players next year, and needed to be confident. But it still seemed like the bigger risk to let it go. And it was her last match. She wanted to take one last shot…. Though hopefully, for her sake and that of the other Chasers, this wouldn’t be their last chance in the match.
She closed the distance, crossing the line into the scoring area, and making Ginger a viable target for the Beaters. Hooking her arm back, she feinted left before throwing a strong curve ball to the right.
13<font color='blue'>Capt Francesca W, Chaser</font>Continuing on from Louis, and requiring Ginger's attention250<font color='blue'>Capt Francesca W, Chaser</font>05
This was more like it. He grinned as John got in on the action, although his expression slipped as the Reinhardts made the quite astonishing decision of switching places, leaving their Seeker entirely unguarded as they did so, and then under the protection of a rookie. A rookie second year, against the most experienced Beater in the school… What were they playing at? It was a shame Leonidas didn’t have a chance to hit one at the girl during the ill-advised switch, although Theodore was quite sure that wouldn’t be his last opportunity.
Perhaps they were trying to win on goal difference. Their Chasers were undeniably stronger. Maybe they wanted the stronger Beater in that game. He looked forward to a post match dissection of this strategy with John. So far, it did not look to be working in Teppalus’ favour, as John was proving more than capable of fending off all their attacks. Theodore’s smile returned. He was glad he had joined Quidditch purely for the fact it had given him an excuse to cultivate the otherwise forbidden friendship of John and Clark. Ironic, given that he had chosen being on the team to fulfil the token amount of ‘being sociable’ that everyone would otherwise nag him to undertake, and had chosen the least interactive position on purpose. They were good chaps though, both of them.
The newest recruit picked up his pace (he would have to report his nervous hovering to Francesca later - or, he supposed, with a sudden pang of sadness, to Leonidas. After all, what would Francesca do about it?) and managed to receive and give a successful pass, setting Aladren up for an attempt on goal. He wasn’t surprised to see Francesca take it. Although she knew the logic of sharing, she was always reluctant when she knew she could do something better.
He knew that Ginger had another year under her belt. He’d watched her in other matches and she did seem something of a natural with her rate of improvement. He was keen to see what she’d do next year, especially against less experienced Chasers. But against Francesca, she still seemed so tiny. And he still had trouble thinking of her as anything but Jemima’s little friend.
13<font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>Looks like you're up270<font color='blue'>Theodore W, Keeper</font>05
Clark wiped sweat from his brow - cooling charm or not, it was indisputably hot out here - and looked around again. Uzume seemed to be trading down her beater escort, which suited Clark just fine. Unmolested by bludgers and better protected than his rival, he returned his attention back to looking for the Snitch.
He saw a flash of gold.
He started for it, lost it, and then spotted it again. Not looking to see how close Uzume was - doing so would lose him time and possibly cause him to lose sight of the golden ball - he set to his chase. The small winged alien was wily, but Clark was ready for it, and his new broom was up to the task of following the sudden changes in direction and closing the distance.
He reached out, with his left hand, leaving his numbed one to hold the broom (he trusted it to do that better than to manage the trickier task of catching the small being he sought). By no means ambidextrous, it took him two extra tries to actually grab his golden adversary with his uninjured hand, but he did. With a shout of triumph, he held up his quarry for all to see.
Aladren had won once more!
1<font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>Ending the game277<font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font>05
It was Francesca who entered the scoring area with the ball. Of course it was. She was their strongest Chaser. Ginger readied herself, watching the older girl for cues at to her intentions the way Liliana had taught her. She recognized the feint for what it was as there was no commitment behind it, but Ginger had edged a little too far to the right (Francesca's left) just in case it hadn't been a false telegraph. She put her all into getting to the left again (Francesca's right) and Jake's broom responded wonderfully, but the distance was just too great and her arms were just too short to make the save.
The ball went flying past her fingers by mere inches and through the far goal hoop. The whistle blew, and she dove down to fetch the Quaffle to bring it back into play.
As she rose back up in front of hoops again, though, she saw Clark had caught the Snitch already and was waving it over his head. That was quick and hardly sporting of him.
Then she wondered: had the whistle been for the goal or the end of game? Which had come first? She wasn't sure.