for thoughts, not brooms PV Finnegan & Aaron Closed

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
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For Thoughts, Not Brooms 18th of September 2024

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The Quidditch pitch was quiet, but not for long. The first sound was distant, little more than a low thud followed by silence. The second sound was a little closer, less of a thud and more of a thumping sound. The third sound was closer still, a quick and hollow clap followed by a low whoosh. Then footsteps, hurried, sounding more like a stomping when one had their ears close to the ground. The fourth sound was the same, only louder. "Watch out!" a voice cried out. Not a second later a ball would hit the ground a few feet away from the girl on the grass, bounce back up, and come skipping her way. Legs pumping, Finn sprinted after his football, closing the distance between him and it before it could resume its collision course with the girl. She looked like a breeze might knock her over. She'd never recover from being hit in the face by a football thumped at full force, even if it had lost some of its energy on the first bounce. Finn leap-skidded in front of the ball, legs outstretched. By some miracle, his boot connected and he intercepted the ball in the nick of time. In hindsight, the girl might have preferred the ball to what followed. Having throw himself into a haphazard sliding, what ultimately ended up colliding with Iris Athanasiuo was not a ball, but a boy. Eighty-five pounds of panting, smelly, flailing limbs crashed into her, robbing her of her solitude and dignity alike. She was lucky he was light for his age. "Oops." Finnegan was back up on his pins in a flash. Though he was a Chaser first and foremost, that had never stopped him from bringing his football gear to school. Wearing cleats, shin guards, knee-high socks, a pink jersey and matching shorts; he'd come prepared. One of these days he was going to start a football club and show his wizarding peers that a game with just one ball could actually be fun. Right now however, his priority was making sure he hadn't accidentally murdered someone by crushing every bone in her body. With his hands on his hips he regarded his victim like she was some curious thing he'd just tripped over. Looks like an ironing board, he thought. Aside from being thin and almost skeletal, there was something stilted about her too. Even now, after he had surely rumpled her robes, she struck him the same way that Evelynn often did: well-groomed but stiff. "Sorry about that." If she happened to be on the ground (either because he'd knocked her over, or because she had remained there), he would offer both his hands to help pull her up. He motioned his chin toward where his ball had skipped to a halt. "Do you play?" @Iris Athanasiuo - Saw this thread advertised as open, so figured I'd pop in! Owl me if anything needs changing

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Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 17

She hadn’t been expecting company, least of all the kind that arrived with such spectacular chaos.

A sudden shout reached her ears, and before she could fully register the warning, something barreled straight into her. The book slipped from her lap, falling into the grass nearby as she found herself entangled with an unfamiliar weight. For a moment, all she could do was blink up at the figure who caused it.

Pushing herself up onto her elbows, Iris took a proper look at the boy now standing over her. He was dressed in soft pink, an outfit she might’ve found charming under different circumstances. The earnest concern on his face, however, was enough to soften her own shock. “No harm done.” Perhaps just a bit; her robes now twisted around her form, tugged and smeared with dirt. She accepted his outstretched hand, allowing the help with a small, grateful nod. "Do you normally make this grand of an entrance?" A playful string of words, trace of an amused smile lacing them.

Upon finding stable footing, Iris brushed at the stains marking her sleeves. She wasn’t particularly fussed about the mess; a certain inevitability that came with lingering on the field. Her eyes darted toward the fallen journal, a now crumpled page poking out from the cover. She knelt back to retrieve it, brushing away a stray blade of grass before flipping through the pages to assess the damage. It wasn't as bad as she feared; just a few crinkles, nothing permanent. Still, it took her a moment longer to look back at him.

At the question, Iris looked toward the ball, considering it as though it were some foreign object. "I can’t say I’ve ever tried." Sports were never her fancy, her gangly build unfit for anything but the occasional duel. That, and the obvious appearance of the thing suggested something out of muggle culture. "Is it some sort of… game?" She couldn't quite place it. Definitely not Quidditch, nor any wizarding sport she was familiar with. Her lack of knowledge might've been embarrassing had the crash moments prior not taken place.

@Finnegan Connor

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
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For Thoughts, Not Brooms 18th of September 2024

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A ll things considered, she took it surprisingly well. The studious types, which he certainly did not belong to, tended to dislike being disturbed, never mind being rudely disturbed. In his experience of rudely disturbing people, the bookish ones were statistically most likely to start reciting the school charter rules to him, as if doing so was supposed to impress. Those people ought to take a note from her, he thought to himself. She brushed it off and even managed something of a joke. "Only near girls," he dead-panned. "I keep falling for them." His gaze followed hers to her journal. Journaling was one of those things required of all girls, a rule ordained by some secret girl club. He was sure of it. The only girl he could think of who he'd never seen journal was @Rebecca Lark, but she compensated by writing for the headliner. To his relief, no permanent damage had been done to her journal. If it had, she undoubtedly would have picked up her wand by now and threatened to turn him into jelly. Instead, she settled for looking at him funny, or rather- "Have you never seen a ball before?" he laughed before jogging over to fetch it. In a single motion, he lobbed it up in the air, bounced it once on his knee, then caught it in his arms. "It's not that different from a quaffle..." He ran a hand through his floppy hair, a bad habit he'd been getting into to avoid having to sit down for fifteen minutes to get a new haircut. With a practiced flick of his head, his fringe fell back in line. A snorted laugh escaped him. "Are you serious? You're clearly not a baller if you are. It's only the greatest muggle sport in recorded history. Beats Fortnite, I reckon." He smiled while he turned the ball over in his hands. "That's a videogame, that is. You shoot and kill people, it's loads of fun." He laughed again, bright and bubbly and carefree, wrinkles showing on his nose. The next moment he was back to juggling the ball low between his feet, sometimes stopping to trap the ball and start over. One thing would be abundantly clear: sitting or standing still was not an option. "Nevermind all that, why are you out here to write anyway?" he started while rolling the ball around with the sole of his boot. "If practice was on, you might've gotten yourself bludgered. Don't think I would've saved you from one of those, I've seen enough of the hospital wing for a lifetime, frankly." @Iris Athanasiuo, mentioned: @Rebecca Lark

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Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 17

Iris' lips twitched upward at his quip, a genuine laugh almost escaping before she caught herself. He certainly didn’t lack for charm; or audacity, for that matter. “Well you certainly excel there.” Literally, she supposed.

She watched him retrieve the ball, an eyebrow quirking as he suggested she'd never seen one. Not what she meant, though she figured his playful personality didn't mean it by much. “Quidditch I understand, as for football—” She began, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Well no I guess I'm not a.. what did you say? Baller?” The use of the word was funny on her tongue, slipping out amongst a laugh. Her brow furrowed slightly as she observed the way he juggled the ball between his feet, something he made seem almost natural.

Was he to suggest you just kick it around? A bit mundane if you asked her, but there was genuine curiosity to her internal query. A brief pause played out as she considered it, trying to imagine a world without bludgers hurtling toward you at breakneck speeds. Simple fun, to the extent of it.

“Fortnite.” She echoed, a twinge of amusement carried in her voice. Assuming it had no correlation to the literal word; these things were never that straightforward. Video games she had a vague grasp on, something that confirmed her suspicions of the boy growing up amongst a muggle environment. Shooting and killing.. The concept sounded absurd whatever it was, and yet he spoke of it with such enthusiasm that she found herself still bemused. "And here I thought muggles were the civilized ones." Meh, not really.

She shifted her weight slightly, gaze drifting back to her journal, then to the vast openness. "Good thing I know when the teams practice, then." Player or not, Quidditch had still been an interest she possessed. “I guess it’s easier to think when there's nothing else around.” Her eyes flicked back to him. “Though I suppose you’re not one for quiet, are you?” Hardly, not with the way he appeared incapable of standing still, a kind of bubbliness that was almost refreshing.

Biting back a smirk, the irony of his words had not been lost on her. Him? Save? Considering he'd been the one to trip over her in the first place, she didn't doubt the accuracy of the statement.

@Finnegan Connor

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
３ＲＤ ＹＥＡＲＧＲＹＦＦＩＮＤＯＲ

For Thoughts, Not Brooms 18th of September 2024

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T here weren't very many things he excelled at, so when the girl handed him the compliment, he received it with the appropriate theatrics. With his hand over his heart, he dipped his head into a mock bow. "Thank you m'lady." To her first question, he simply nodded. "Just means you're real good at something. You can be a baller at anything though, not just footy." After he'd trapped the ball under his foot again, he cocked his head sideways and regarded her like she was some kind of curiosity. He wondered where she was from. There were plenty toffs who wouldn't know nothing about ballers, but she didn't strike him as your run-of-the-mill pureblood aristocrat. She was not nearly haughty or unfriendly enough to be one of those. Still, she couldn't be muggle-born either; the way she repeated Fortnite after him suggested she was unfamiliar with it. What a curious bird, he mused in the privacy of his mind. Something about her tugged at his mind, a distant dormant memory that wanted to be pulled from the mindfog. Had he seen her before? He couldn't shake the feeling that she looked familiar somehow.* "Oh, there's nothing civilized about Fortnite. It's war, but it's on PC or Xbox. No one actually gets hurt." Perhaps his explanation was unnecessary, but his mouth had a tendency to run ahead of his brain. It didn't matter, he didn't think she wouls ask more questions about Fortnite after he had made it sound so barbaric. It was back to theatrics when she wagered that he wasn't one for quiet. "M'lady, you wound me," he said dramatically. "I can be very quiet, hang on I'll show you." With a flick of his heel he discarded his ball, took a step closer and showed her his open hands, palms facing upwards. "You'll be amazed, trust me." If Rebecca had been around she would have surely warned Iris that the words "trust me" coming from him were to be taken as one takes their fries: salted. The only warning Iris could hope to receive was the slight smirk tugging at the corner of Finn's lips as he took another step closer, until there was only two or three feet of space between them. "How about this, I'll show you I can be quiet, and when I do, you can think. And when you think, you are going to think about what you'd like better: journalling or a treasure hunt. Ready?" If indeed she signaled that she was ready, he would move his hands up slowly, bringing them closer and closer to his face. With every inch that they got closer, his grin got wider, until at last - if she let him - both his hands covered her ears. "There. All quiet now," he said. Though he did bring his voice down for maximum effect. With a little luck, all she would hear was an ocean-like noise; the rush of her blood through her veins. After a short while, he dropped his hands by his side and looked very pleased with himself. "So, what's it going to be?" * = deliberately vague allusion to the fact that Iris was away in 2nd year, but they might have shared classes during 1st? @Iris Athanasiuo mentioned: @Rebecca Lark

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Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 17

The term 'm'lady', like a playful endearment, hung in the air. She'd known this boy for all of fifteen minutes, yet had already been conversing like they were friends. Though that was how one started, wasn't it? Honestly Iris didn't know, her people skills usually lacking in that regard. Not because she was incapable; conversation came easy when she wasn't thinking too hard about the concept. Maybe that was her issue. Over analyzing every interaction that came her way, trapped in the vicious cycle one could only describe as 'first heir syndrome'. This though, hardly felt like a test.

As he stepped closer, Iris tensed instinctively, the faint scent of mint lingering between the gap that had nearly been closed. Just what as he doing? With palms turned upward in an almost reverent display, she'd been instructed to trust him. She watched with careful eyes, locked with his as if to reciprocate the challenge presented.

Listening to his proposal, a dubious look fell upon her features. A treasure hunt? Was he joking? Surely, considering the only thing of note out here would be a forgotten scarf. A sickle, if the odds decided to be really generous. Yet as the smile stayed plastered on his face, it was made clear Finn was nothing but serious. With a nod, Iris allowed him to execute his plan.

Upon the touch to her ears, a twinge of surprise crossed her face. She held his gaze, and for a moment all that could be heard was a quiet pulse drowned beneath echoing waves. This was his plan of convincing her? Points for creativity, but then again she couldn't say it wasn't working. Something about this boy intrigued her, possibly in how she found herself enjoying the company. How many times since her return had she felt that? You could count it on a single hand, that's for sure.

Once they fell, she nodded in mock validation. "Well, not sure how I could argue with that." A beat passed before she answered his question, head tilting slightly to the left. "Tell you what.." The words trailed off, leaving an expression that indicated she would've said his name had she known it. "I'll choose treasure hunt, so long as I know what to call you."

She joked lightly— "Unless 'quiet one' is fitting enough?"

*Cool with me!
@Finnegan Connor

Interacting with: @Iris Athanasiuo and @Finnegan Connor

Aaron has a Calming Presence.

Your presence simply puts others at ease, if it is your carefree personality or the trust others have in you, the result is still the same. With you there, perhaps through your encouragement, your allies are able to better focus.

Aaron is a Lovely Creature.

You are so incredibly beautiful, it is hard to take ones eyes off of you.

Aaron has Beast Master.

Those with this skill have a pet that can perform actions depending on the animal.

𝓕 I N N E G A Nx𝓒 O N N O R
３ＲＤ ＹＥＡＲＧＲＹＦＦＩＮＤＯＲ

For Thoughts, Not Brooms 18th of September 2024

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"Tell you what..." "Finnegan," he cut in, completing the sentence. "Just Finn works, mind." He added with an easy shrug. The moniker she had picked for him elicted a weak smile. "Aye, that's a good'un. Yurs'll be..." Before he could settle on a nickname for her, the sound of beating wings caused him to spin around. A white owl swept low and clutched his football with her talons. "Hey!" He reached for his pocket, but found only elastic waistband. Of course something like this had to happen the one time he had gone out without his wand on him. "Balls..." he cursed under his breath. Back to the girl. "D'you have a wand by you?" That ruddy owl was getting away fast. In the end, he did not get to find out if there was a school rule against incinerating someone else's pet owl. Instead, something much larger than an owl came zooming into view. The distant speck grew, then slowed, then descended, and eventually landed gracefully on the pitch. Dark hair, broad shoulders, jaws so chiseled you could sharpen a knife on them. The only thing missing from Aaron Jones' entry was a choir singing hallelujah in the background and godrays punching through the clouds for some dramatic rim lighting. Still, even without those, the Hufflepuff cut an impressive figure. Finnegan squinted. That form-fitting white shirt was no accident. No, the Hufflepuff wore that specific shirt on purpose, it looked so casual, but it was a deliberate choice. Everyone and their nearsighted grandma could see how his ridiculously large muscles strained and rippled against the fabric. The worst thing? He sounded friendly. Finnegan had no reason, no real reason, to dislike Aaron, nor was he given one. Yet he felt a pang of jealousy toward the handsome Hufflepuff. The Sixth-Year was what most boys dreamed of looking like in the mirror, yet never amounted to. He's probably the kind of guy that doesn't even break a sweat when working out, Finnegan thought. Once it dawned on him that he'd been staring, he glanced at the Ravenclaw girl, then back at Aaron. "I was practicing," he said. He didn't bother telling Aaron about the part where he'd cannonballed into the Ravenclaw girl, or how he'd cupped his hands over her ears before he'd ever shook her hand or learned her name. "And she was journalling," he added with a lopsided grin. "Now I owe her a treasure hunt." Offering no further explanation, he held out his arms and waited for Aaron to toss the ball back, if the Hufflepuff was so inclined. @Iris Athanasiuo, @Aaron Jones

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Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 4 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 17

Finn it was, then Finn it would be. Before she could comment further, the slight movement overhead managed to grasp her attention. A flash of white tearing just above, dark eyes trailing the snowy culprit as it swept down to snatch the ball from its resting place. She looked back to Finnegan as he asked about her wand, a puzzled expression met in return. Still left discarded on the grass, she'd been lucky the creature hadn't impolitely stolen that instead. Not much use for it anyway, did he expect her to cast flipendo at it?

Then as if on cue, came another shift. The sound of wind giving way to something much larger, forcing her gaze to squint at the broad figure approaching by broomstick. He landed with a ease, and Iris could practically hear the collective intake of breath from every girl within a hundred yards. Not that she was much for appearances, yet even the most impartial couldn't deny there was something eye catching about the boy— young man, rather, that made their way over to them.

As he neared, Iris couldn’t help but feel a change in her own demeanor. There was an unspoken ease about the Hufflepuff, possibly even contagious with the way her posture softened. The apology offered appeared genuine, albeit an amusing circumstance. "Quite the thief, isn't she?" Iris could only guess his companion being female, the brown woven into its feathers a slight giveaway. Having asked if they were practicing, she glanced back down at her notebook for a moment. An answer she'd basically already given to Finn, leaving her to merely shake her head before a response had been offered on both of their behalf.

Right, their treasure hunt, a notion she'd almost rudely forgotten upon the arrival of the sixth year. So he was serious, must have been with the way he eagerly waited for his possession back. The lack of invite to the other boy, however, hadn't gone unnoticed; a now slightly awkward gap standing between them all. Against her own judgement, she casted a glance toward Aaron. "Wouldn't want to join us, would you?" While the question sounded forethought, she wouldn't much mind if he replied otherwise. Then again, what interest would an upperclassman have in entertaining something so juvenile?

@Finnegan Connor @Aaron Jones