Fall Games Quidditch: Gryffindor v Slytherin

Grats in all seriousness.

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[font=century gothic]INTERACTING WITH: @Anastasia Beckett
MENTIONING: the game in general[/font]

Close. So close. SO close. The golden orb danced and swerved just out of reach, taunting them with its continued yet unobtainable presence. If they could just close the gap. "Almost..." The whispered plea tore itself into the void of rain and wind that trailed behind the pair the moment it was uttered. "Come on.."

At the risk of leaving herself completely open to attack, Evelynn honed in on the snitch with every fibre of her being. The post-collision headache that had kindly subsided for a brief period of time with the rush of adrenaline from initiating the chase was back in full. The throbbing behind her eyes sent sparks flickering in and out of existence in her peripherals. Like a funeral procession, the percussive rhythm demanded awareness, foreshadowing what might be if the game did not conclude sooner rather than later. Already, the numbness that had developed in fingers and toes crept its way along her limbs, leaving them stiff and heavy. It was only a matter of time before that sluggishness found its way to her mind, or mirrored in her partner to leave the pair of them as sitting ducks.

Or perhaps it already had.

It wasn't supposed to be this hard. It wasn't this hard. How many times had she caught the snitch out on the pitch in her solitary practices? How deftly had she maneuvered the Gryffindor common room during the truth or dare to snatch the little ball from the air despite the congestion of those close quarters? How easily had she claimed victory against Hufflepuff in their skirmish last year? She had done this a hundred times or more. Yet it continued to evade her as though crafted of the very substance that soaked her uniform and dampened her spirits.

Perhaps it was a trick of the mind, an exaggerated reflection that made every movement seem just that much slower relative to how badly she wished to win. Evelynn ached with silent desperation, every missed swipe at the snitch riling the beast within until she roared with an unbridled fury of frustration as silver wings once again beat just for half a second against the inside of her palm only to flit away before her fingers could grasp hold. And in that moment, her expression shifted swiftly to a shriek of agony as a fresh wave of nauseating pain turned the world from grey to white and a fire exploded in her side.

By the time she realized what had happened, in that moment when her mind had finally cleared enough to rein in the pain and attempt to grapple to orient herself, she was already falling. Her stomach lurched itself to nestle in her throat as hair and uniform tangled in her downwards trail, and vision swam with the blur of her spiralling descent. It was all she could do not to welcome the familiar embrace of terror as the ground rushed up to meet her. Eyes widened nonetheless, all pretence to composure stripped away. Rational thought dissipated. She was falling. There was no one below her, no one coming to save her this time. She was falling. She was going to hit the ground. She was going to die.

In reckless and entirely ridiculous desperation as panic set in and pain took root to send her vision in and out of focus, she grasped. Fingers clawed at the air as though they would somehow serve as wings to spread and save her from her doomed state. The wind and rain proved no more tangible than the snitch, however, and every swipe left her empty handed, her fall only accelerating with every beat of her racing heart. The stadium darkened, and with it, the whistle of the wind and roar of the crowd diminished to silence. Somewhere in there, Evelynn lost awareness of the agony and the cold. It was as though she had been submerged within the confines of a sensory deprivation chamber. Even the impact of gravity faded to the point of being forgotten.

From the heart of the void, however, she saw something stir. A hand. Reaching out as though to offer her a lifeline. A means to pull herself from the darkness. In her vision, she reached a hand forward. Like a dream, however, she moved in slow-motion, misjudging the distance initially and falling short. With great mental effort, however, she tried again, pushing through the invisible resistance of the uncharacteristically dense environment. Fingers clasped about the hand whose owner she couldn't make out, holding firm. So long as she didn't let go, it would draw her forward. So long as she didn't let go, she would be okay.

Consciousness had been forsaken long before Evelynn was lowered to the earth of the pitch through the interventions of one slowing charm or another. Battered, bruised, and entirely emotionally overwhelmed, she had succumbed to her injuries mid-fall. Miraculously, however, as though by some critical irony, what she had failed to do upon the broom, she had somehow managed during her spiralling descent. Clutched tight within an unyielding white-knuckled grip was the snitch.

Although not yet even aware of it, she had done it.

[font=century gothic]Great game! What an absolute rollercoaster.[/font]

Interacting with @Rafael D'Spacito
Mentioning @Evelynn Decipio

For Moderation:
Position: First String Chaser/Riding with Evee (Seeker) Yote
Action: Fall, cuss, hugtackle Rafa
Health: Bad/800
Broom: Silver Arrow (+3 to all stats)
Abilities: Lovely Creature | Fearless | Terrible Presence
Stats: Stamina 5 (8) | Evasion 10 (13) | Strength 5 (8) | Wisdom 9 (12) | Arcane Power 10 (13) | Accuracy 6 (9)

Ana wove through the rain, fatigue beginning to wear on her. Ana and her passenger darted after the Snitch with Ana pouring every ounce of strength she had left into a spiral dive after it. Unfortunately, that commitment left them completely open to attack. "We got this, Decipio," she called over her shoulder, trying to be encouraging. A bludger caught her in the shoulder and she winced in pain, focusing even harder on the Snitch. Whatever attack came afterwards hit her hard in the ribs with a concerning sound and Ana was free falling. A string of expletives left her lips as she fell.

Whether or not any of the attacks had hit Evelynn, she seemed to be falling as well, based on the screams Ana heard. Ana was still cursing, so the screaming definitely wasn't her. She had fallen from her broom enough times that she wasn't terrified, but she was frustrated. Had they lost the game?

At some point, she lost consciousness because the next thing she knew she was lying on the ground, aching all over. She rolled over groggily, mud covering her red and gold uniform. Shouts and cheers from the stands were deafening and as she took in her surroundings, she realized Decipio had done it. Her soreness fled from her mind for a moment and she leaped to her feet.

Rafa had landed and without thinking, she went sprinting towards him and launched herself in a half hug-half tackle. "OhMyGodOhMyGodHolyFUCKRafaWeWon!" she said, barely breathing from excitement. This was a moment she had been dreaming of for years - her first Hogwarts Quidditch win, and it was even better than she could have possibly imagined. It had been hard-fought, but she had been able to trust her teammates, and being able to share it with them made it infinitely better. For the first time in months, she was genuinely and completely happy. Pity it wouldn't last.

OOC Permission granted to hug-tackle Rafa

OOC - Good game, everyone!