Post by Charlie Jones on May 4, 2006 19:16:13 GMT -5
What a refreshing prospect, to have all bow down to you and your broom. To sweep the nations and have their winds sweep through your hair. To see your shadow appear in the lush greens of the earth at high noon. To give a tingle of acknowledgement to those as you passed by. The world was Charlie's qudditch pitch. She wouldn't want to limit such a great thing to a tiny field.
The game was all about it for her, the thrills and the cheers of the crowds. But it also helped that she could fly all around people. She had mastered the art of flying on her broom with endless practices and breezy trips.
But the last few days with the murder and the switch, she definitely felt locked down. She hated to admit to anyone about how sentimental she became when she was denied her freedom, but the grin on her face was evidence enough. She loved flying, though ironically, this same hobby and sport got her into the switch.
Still, she learned her lesson by not flying inside the castle, or flying too low. Though she couldn't help show off whenever people noticed her by making loop-de-loops, cannon balls, and even standing on the tip of her broom.
At one point or another, she had to stop. Her muscles grew tired, but her smile grew from ear to ear. It was a rare site to see, and she was glad that the qudditch pitch was empty mostly because of the day was coming to a close (though lucky her, she didn't feel as bad that dark was coming as she knew that she had another forty five minutes till it became pitch dark).
Sitting on the floor with her broom at her side, she replaced her qudditch shoes for her regular day-to-days. This day couldn't get any better, she supposed.
The game was all about it for her, the thrills and the cheers of the crowds. But it also helped that she could fly all around people. She had mastered the art of flying on her broom with endless practices and breezy trips.
But the last few days with the murder and the switch, she definitely felt locked down. She hated to admit to anyone about how sentimental she became when she was denied her freedom, but the grin on her face was evidence enough. She loved flying, though ironically, this same hobby and sport got her into the switch.
Still, she learned her lesson by not flying inside the castle, or flying too low. Though she couldn't help show off whenever people noticed her by making loop-de-loops, cannon balls, and even standing on the tip of her broom.
At one point or another, she had to stop. Her muscles grew tired, but her smile grew from ear to ear. It was a rare site to see, and she was glad that the qudditch pitch was empty mostly because of the day was coming to a close (though lucky her, she didn't feel as bad that dark was coming as she knew that she had another forty five minutes till it became pitch dark).
Sitting on the floor with her broom at her side, she replaced her qudditch shoes for her regular day-to-days. This day couldn't get any better, she supposed.