Swerve in Timeline
6/2/25
š reathe the cold, fresh air. Stand, feet shoulder width apart, eyes wandering and studying the scenery before her. Hand hovering over her trusty Comet 180, commanding, "Up." Broom flies into her hands, solid, real, eager to be mounted. Mount she does, scarf draped on her neck loosening slightly. Ruth tightened it again, refusing to increase the chances of her beloved Hufflepuff accessory to be blown off in the wind.
Practise day. Ruth hadn't done many, but in the brief moments she has, the girl was determined to make today the day. The day she improved, for once, concentrated solely on avoiding hurdles and obstacles that could get in her way. She bent low, hands tightening on the handle, head up and ahead, eyes narrow and calculating.
She pushed herself off, the rush of the wind instantly louder and blowing in the opposite direction, forcing the girl to rebel against the gusts and urge her broom forward on with her makeshift track, zipping around, initiating twists and swerves as abruptly as she could. Getting used to the reaction times when you least suspected it. Perhaps that would be crucial.
As she flew, she gingerly let go of one hand, that used to bring her hand into her robe and pull out her trusty wand. It was safe to say that the wand and its many spells had saved the girl countless times but she simply concludes it as fluke. Wobbling on her broom slightly, Ruth brought her wand up, eyes trained for the incoming waterfall she had veered straight towards. The water wasn't the strongest, her lips seizing a smile as she exclaimed the incantation of the umbrella spell.
But not fast enough, not good enough. The spell hadn't worked at all, and she was too late to stop herself from plummeting straight into the water, the waves pummeling her to the waters below.
Down she tumbled, gasping as she slipped off her broom and into the water, the winter adding to the freezing pain from the impact and temperature. Ruth gasped, retrieving her broom and making for the snowy grounds and grass. Clambering up the banks, she sat there for a moment, the impact ringing dully in her ears. Then she smashed the packed snow beside her, letting it sink as she cried out in frustration. No, it is okay. She could she always try again. Try until she didn't face such endings. Try until being the youngest didn't mean she'd let her team down.
Wobbling slightly, she stood, shivering as she watched her breath puff into mist. Great, now she was drenched, cold, and a failure. All she wanted now was several litres of hot cocoa. Ruth wiped at her face angrily. It was then did the vial from yesterday night fall from her pocket, the mysterious potion that had been lying around. Ruth hadn't allowed herself a taste last night, albeit curious, in fear of betraying @Aurelia Valentine's trust and reason. She wasn't wrong. Ruth could be consulting her professors right now, getting more information. But...no. Here she stood, last night's conversation stuck in her head, replaying the panic the two had felt when their Pamela had taken the reckless shot, the relief and wonder she felt when her friend was perfectly fine, even livelier.
The hands grasping the vial began to tremble and her fingers clasping harder, squeezing the glass with unknown liquid inside. The effects looked so enticing. To be stronger...or quicker...a tiny sip wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't hurt.
She twisted the cork off for the second time, then held it up to her lips. She found no smell, nothing pleasant nor foul. Ruth wasn't sure if this was a good thing. A pang in her heart, realising this was betraying Aurelia. Just don't tell her.
Yeah, surely she couldn't find out. Ruth downed it in a gulp, just as @Pamela Graham had, hoping this would result in the same outcomes. Tucking the vial back into her pocket, Ruth felt...nothing, then warmth coursing through her veins.
The first dose hit Ruth like a blanket fresh from the hearth. It wasnāt an explosion of warmthānothing so dramaticābut a gradual, creeping sensation that curled around her bones and settled deep in her chest. The shivers that had wracked her body from the freezing water began to ebb, replaced by a slow-spreading comfort, like sinking into a bath just the right temperature.
Her fingers, still stiff from gripping the broomstick through the icy plunge, loosened. The sharp sting of cold that had clung to her skin dulled into something distant, irrelevant. Even the memory of the fallāthe shock of hitting the water, the way it had stolen the breath from her lungsāfelt strangely unimportant now, like an old story rather than something she had just lived.
She exhaled, and for the first time in what felt like hours, it didnāt come out as a chattering gasp. Instead, there was only ease.
The world, which had been all sharp edges and biting cold, softened. Her limbs felt light, her thoughts unhurried. What had been miserable mere moments ago now seemedā¦ funny, even a little adventurous. A ridiculous misstep in an otherwise thrilling practice.
She sighed in satisfaction. Ruth couldn't bother questioning the change, simply enjoying the exhilaration and relaxation it gave her. Instead, she took flight, continuing her laps, easing into a comfortable and steady speed. Familiarising herself with the obstacles, yes, that sounded good, should they eventually come up in an official race.
ALMOST EVERYTHING šhe sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |
Swerve in Timeline
A few hours passed.
šxhilaration, that's how she felt. Hours sped by in a blur, yet her energy somehow never waned. She was flying through the challenges with unbeknownst ease, surprising the girl. Ruth, however, didn't question it, smugly blaming the massive improvement solely on herself. Okay, and maybe the potion too. It did something to her. Made her feel...better. But no, she was the sole reason to why she was able to perform spells, slide through obstacles as though slippery (even the thorns, thank goodness) and feel as though she was the first in a race.
A finishing line materialised in front of the 12 year old, causing an easy grin to slide onto her face. Creativity it was, flourishing inside her head as the area before her began to paint itself with streamers raining with the colours of Hufflepuff, flanking her sides. Imaginative cheers from the spectator stands ringing into her ears. The commentator, screaming into their wands--
"And there goes First Year Hufflepuff Ruth Fairchild, reaching for the finishing line at top speed! Oh, she's almost there, and--" Ruth urged herself a little faster, eyes trained for the translucent indication only visible to herself, "and she MAKES IT!" The crowd goes wild, chanting her name! she thought to herself, unable to keep a whoop from slipping out of her mouth, followed by the childish laughter that made her throw back her head in delight, still zooming around the area before her.
Still giggling, she made for the small clearing behind the wooden bleachers, deciding it might be time to take a break and rest her body. Yet, there was a nagging desire to forgo such and continue taking laps around on her broom, to attempt loops and spins, even. Having just recovered from her high of fantasising herself coming first place for her Hufflepuffs, she couldn't resist such a fun idea.
And down she went, cold hands clamped tight around the handle, legs tucked, eyes refocused but the grin still on her face. She pushed herself forward, higher, faster. The feeling of making everything feel effortless felt possible. Ruth leaned forward, coaxing her Comet 180 into a steep climb. The rush of air stole the breath from her lungs, but she didn't care. The thrill. As she reached the peak of her ascent, she realised with a sudden fleeting thought--she was gonna do it.
Too late to change her mind (not that it even crossed her to do so), Ruth pulled back her broom handle, tilting into a sharp, exhilarating backward arc. For a split second, her stomach flipped, and the Hufflepuff watched in amazement as the sky became her ground and the ground the sky before letting gravity take her, guiding her body through a loop with a smoothness she never quite achieved when her mind was burdened with thought.
Golly.Her braid whipped over her shoulder as she leveled out, her laughter spilling into the open air.
She did another. Then another. Because why wouldn't she?
At that point in time, Ruth Fairchild felt like she could do anything.
ALMOST EVERYTHING šhe sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |