How Not To Fall
interaction: @Callum Alistar wc: 639 dialogue thoughts
date:25th September 2025Victoria was nervous. More than nervous, really — her stomach was in knots, and her thoughts were spiraling faster than she could catch them.
The sun was already close to setting, painting the sky in streaks of soft orange and muted violet. A cool breeze drifted across the open field, gentle but persistent, playing with the ends of her wavy brown hair. The strands fluttered around her face, occasionally getting caught in her lashes or lips. She didn’t bother brushing them away.
Her cheeks were flushed — half from the crisp air, half from the nerves coiling tighter in her chest with every passing second. She gripped her school broom like it was the only thing anchoring her to the ground. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the handle that her knuckles had turned pale, nearly white.
She took a breath, then another — shallow and unsatisfying.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. The reddish-haired boy she’d met during the summer camp — the one with the soft voice and the easy laugh, who made her feel strangely calm even when her anxiety buzzed just beneath the surface — had smiled and told her he could teach her how to fly.
And somehow, without even thinking, she’d said yes.
But now, standing alone on the Quidditch training pitch with her broom and a thousand doubts, Victoria was questioning everything.
Why had she agreed?
She liked control, liked being prepared. Up there in the air, she wouldn’t have either. She would be exposed, vulnerable, and one wrong move could send her straight into the ground.
She could already picture it: wobbling awkwardly, maybe even falling-and the boy, Callum, standing there trying not to look disappointed. Maybe he’d laugh. Or maybe he’d just grow quiet, the way people sometimes did when they started rethinking your place in their life.
Victoria let out a long, shaky sigh.
The pitch was completely empty, thank Merlin. At least she wouldn’t be humiliated in front of a crowd. She slowly sat down on the edge of a low wooden bench, broom across her knees, and tried to still her trembling fingers. She didn’t know if it was the wind or her nerves that were making her hands shake.
Where was he? Not that she was impatient, but the more time passed, the more her thoughts turned against her.
To distract herself, she looked up at the sky. It was beautiful — wide and open, like a canvas being washed in watercolors. But even the quiet wonder of the view couldn’t quiet her thoughts. Her mind was still stuck on the same loop: What if I mess up? What if I look stupid? What if he thinks I’m not brave enough?
She groaned under her breath, quietly, and let her fingers — already pink from the cold — press against her cheeks. Her face felt warm beneath them, too warm for the chilled evening air. She stayed like that for a moment, eyes closed, trying to will away the anxiety pressing at her ribs.
She didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was clear — she really liked this boy.
Not in the over-the-top, heart-pounding kind of way. But in the soft, terrifying way that made her care about how he saw her. He was kind. Gentle. The kind of person who waited for you to finish talking instead of interrupting. And something about that made her want to trust him.
She didn’t want to ruin that.
She didn’t want to seem weak or childish. She didn’t want to give him a reason to rethink whatever this growing bond between them was. Her chest ached at the thought of pushing him away without meaning to, just because she couldn’t be brave for one afternoon.
How Not To Fall
Callum arrived in a quiet rush, his shoes crunching on the gravel path leading up to the training pitch. He would have liked to get there earlier, but his Herbology class had taken longer than he expected. He spotted Victoria almost immediately—curled up on the wooden bench with her broom resting across her lap.
He slowed his pace as he approached, not wanting to startle her. His voice was soft as he spoke.
“Hey,” he said with a warm smile. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”
Callum set his Moontrimmer broom on the bench beside her. It was the broom he used for Quidditch, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to log a few more air miles on it.
He studied Victoria for a moment, noticing that she was shaking slightly, her fingers pressed into her cheeks as if she were trying to warm them up. He sat down next to her, making sure to leave some space so as not to crowd her. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the gloves he intended to wear, and placed them on the bench beside her.
“They’re warm,” he said quietly. “You’re definitely going to need them up in the air.”
Callum looked up at the sky; the sun was beginning to set, and he could see the stars starting to emerge in the darker part of the sky. He glanced back at Victoria, who still looked hesitant. He continued, his tone gentle.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he reassured her. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
He paused for a moment, considering what to say next. “But… if you are ready, we can go at your pace. There’s no need to rush.”
“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” ― Oscar Wilde
iNPC: Atticus Maxfield
How Not To Fall
interaction: @Callum Alistar wc: 606 dialogue thoughtsVictoria lifted her head at the sound of a familiar voice behind her, her heart giving a small, involuntary jolt. Callum. He approached, a warm, easy smile gracing his features as he gently placed his broom on the bench beside her. Victoria swallowed hard. “...It’s okay—I haven’t been waiting long,” she said, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
Technically, she hadn’t waited that long. But emotionally? Every minute had felt like a quiet storm raging inside her. She had spent those moments overthinking everything—from what to say, how to act, to whether she even belonged here in the first place. The seconds dragged like hours when your mind refused to stay still.
She didn't know what to say next. Words felt clumsy in her throat, and so, she said nothing. For a moment, she simply stared down at the grass beneath her shoes, pretending to focus on the slight sway of the blades in the breeze. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeves.
Then she heard his voice again—gentle, not intrusive, almost like he was leaving space for her to exist without pressure. She looked up, and her gaze fell on something that made her freeze. A pair of gloves. His gloves. Laid out beside her like a quiet offering.Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. Damnit, she thought, frustrated by the rush of warmth his thoughtfulness stirred in her. Why does he have to be like this?Why did he seem to notice things others wouldn’t?
Victoria swallowed again, her throat suddenly dry. She stared at him for a few moments, studying his face—trying to figure out if he meant something by it, or if he was just naturally like this with everyone. Still, she had to snap herself back to reality.
After a beat of silence, she finally spoke, voice barely above a murmur. “Oh—thank you. But... won't your hands get cold?”
She reached out carefully, offering the gloves back to him with both hands, like they were something fragile.
There was a brief stillness. Neither of them rushed to fill it—and strangely, it didn’t feel unbearable. Then Callum spoke again. Whatever he said—it wasn’t just the words, but the way he said them—that made her feel a little less tightly wound. There was something grounding about him. He didn’t make her feel judged.She didn’t understand it.
“I-I think I’m ready,” she whispered after a moment, though there was a trace of uncertainty in her voice. Her brows knitted slightly, a shadow of worry flitting across her pale face.
“...It’s just—there’s a high chance I’ll make a fool of myself. I mean... we barely know eachother, really, so the idea of completely embarrassing myself in front of you is... less than ideal,” she admitted, her tone tinged with self-deprecation.
She didn’t know why she was saying all of this. Why she was letting someone in—even just a little. Maybe it was because, she felt like he would understand.
The strange thing was—she didn’t feel ashamed of her honesty. Not right now.
Still, she knew she couldn’t let herself unravel completely. She had to pull it together—if only for the sake of her own pride. She inhaled deeply, willing the tension in her chest to ease, and when she exhaled, her expression subtly shifted. The softness in her features was replaced with a hint of cool composure, the kind she’d practiced for years. Her blue eyes, once full of hesitation, now carried a quiet steadiness and distanced look. Like she was trying to hold herself from talking too much about her emotions.
“Anyway,” she said, her voice firmer now, though still gentle. “Sorry. Shall we start?”
How Not To Fall
Callum didn’t reach for the gloves when she tried to give them back. He shook his head slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging into a soft, crooked smile. “My hands will survive,” he said. “You will need them more than I will.”
When she said she was ready—hesitant though her tone was—something in Callum’s chest lightened. It wasn’t a triumphant feeling, as if he had convinced her; it was more like relief, like someone finally stepping onto a path they had been afraid to look at before.
“No one looks graceful the first time,” he said, meeting her eyes with quiet steadiness. “It’s a lot of wobbling and trying not to veer sideways into people. But making a fool out of yourself?” He shook his head slightly. “You couldn’t do that, not in front of me.”
Callum got up from the bench, smoothing out his shirt before grabbing his broom. There was still a bit of sunlight left for their practice.
“Alright,” he said softly, “Let's start simple.”
He stepped further away from the bench, motioning for Victoria to follow. He chose a spot that was not too close to the stands, so she wouldn’t run into anything while in the air.
“The first step is mounting your broom,” he explained. “When you mount your broom, you want to have your grip positioned here—” he demonstrated, placing one hand on the neck and the other right behind it. “Always keep your dominant hand in front of your non-dominant. If you’re ambidextrous, then use whichever hand feels most comfortable.” He said, chuckling a little. “Then, whenever you feel ready, push off from the ground.”
Callum shifted his weight slightly, planting his feet in the grass as he spoke.
“Don’t overthink the push,” he added. “It’s not about jumping as high as you can; it’s about letting the broom catch you. Think of it like stepping onto a moving staircase—you kind of meet it halfway.”
He mounted his own broom in one fluid motion, hovering a few feet off the ground to show her. “You don’t have to go any higher than this at first.”
He looked over at her, his smile easy and encouraging. “The broom will feel wobbly—that’s normal; it means it’s listening to you. Make sure you keep your shoulders loose and your gaze forward, not at the ground.” Callum scratched the back of his neck and gave a small laugh. “I’ve made that mistake before.”
Callum landed back on the ground, stepping aside to give Victoria a little space. “Just grip, mount, hover, and land. I’ll be here to catch you. Oh—landing! All you have to do is lean forward slightly, and you’ll come back down.”
“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” ― Oscar Wilde
iNPC: Atticus Maxfield
How Not To Fall
interaction: @Callum Alistar wc: 628 dialogue thoughts
ooc:thank you for your patience, and please let me know if you want me to fix anything. And can you tag me next time?
Callum hadn’t taken the gloves when she offered, so after a heartbeat of hesitation, Victoria slipped her fingers into the thick fabric herself. She had to admit—the warmth felt good against her skin, her fingertips still flushed pink from the cold.
“…making a fool of yourself? Not in front of me.”
The words caught her off guard. Her blue eyes widened ever so slightly, and to her surprise, the faint tremor in her hands stilled. The reassurance—quiet though it was—had done something to her. A knot of tension inside her chest loosened.
When Callum rose from the bench, Victoria followed, clutching the broom she had brought with her. Her brows knit in concentration, determination etched across her face. She had no intention of backing down now.
Callum demonstrated how to position the broom, his movements steady, practiced. Victoria’s gaze was fixed, intent, her attention sharpened to a point. She mimicked his grip carefully, adjusting until her right hand slid in front of her left.
“…always keep your dominant hand in front of your non-dominant. Got it." she murmured, echoing the words under her breath as though to cement them in her memory.
When he told her not to think too much, Victoria nearly scowled. Of all the advice one could give an overthinker, that was the one she hated most. Don’t think. As if it were that simple. Still, she pressed her lips together and forced herself not to argue. She wanted to try. She needed to.
She drew in a steadying breath, her chest rising and falling.
“…letting the broom catch you. Okay,” she whispered, repeating his phrasing like a mantra.
Callum lifted from the ground with ease, just a gentle rise, his broom carrying him smoothly into the air. Victoria’s throat tightened as she watched. He made it look effortless, far too easy. Her pulse quickened, drumming against her ribs, but when he glanced back at her and smiled, a wave of calm washed over her once again. She hadn’t expected to feel so grateful—to be taught by him of all people. He had this way about him, as though he knew instinctively how to make others feel safe in his presence.
Her eyes were locked on the ground until his voice drew her attention upward. When he told her to look forward, Victoria hummed softly in acknowledgment and forced herself to raise her chin, gaze tilting forward instead of toward the earth that seemed to tug at her. Her hands gripped the broom so tightly that her knuckles whitened.
“Don’t overthink,” she reminded herself, echoing him, even as she drew another deep breath.
With deliberate care, she nudged the broom forward the way he had shown her. To her astonishment, it rose—only slightly, barely off the ground, but higher than she had dared expect. The rush of air stirred her hair, making it whip against her face, and her grip tightened instinctively to steady herself.
“Don’t look down. Don’t look down,” she chanted silently.
But her eyes betrayed her. For a fleeting second they flicked toward the ground, and her breath caught. Panic surged, sharp and immediate. Every instruction Callum had given her about descending scattered like frightened birds, gone from her mind entirely.
Her chest constricted. Her heart hammered. Strands of hair blown loose by the wind clung to her cheek, tickling her skin, but she was too afraid to lift a hand and push them back. She didn’t dare.
Her voice burst out before she could stop it—louder than she had intended, ragged with fear.
“Callum! H-how did you say I’m supposed to get down?”
The broom tilted dangerously to one side. Her wide blue eyes darted to him in panic, her knuckles bone-white as she clung with all the strength she had.
How Not To Fall
Callum’s head snapped the moment he heard Victoria’s voice crack through the air. She had only drifted a few feet away, but she started to tilt.
“Hey–hey you’re alright.” he called, trying to calm her down a little so the situation didn’t get worse. He jogged over, reaching out instinctively, one hand bracing the handle near her own. He steadied the broom with practiced ease, anchoring it until the wobble slowed. His other hand hovered close, not touching her shoulder, but close enough that she could feel his presence.
“Look at me, not the ground.” he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. “Breathe, Victoria. You are doing good.”
He stayed there until her frantic breathing slowed down before continuing. “Now– coming down is easy. All you have to do is lean forward the slightest bit, and you’ll come back down. Don’t shove it, don’t fight it. Just… guide it.”
The broom gave another faint wobble, and Callum tightened his grip, steadying it again before she could lose her nerve. “I won’t let go until your feet are on the grass, I promise.” he murmured.
For a moment, the pitch was quiet except for the rustle of the breeze and the pounding of her heartbeat. “You are braver than you think,” he added softly, a small smile flickering across his lips. “A lot of people would freak out around this point, but you? Even though initially you freaked out, you calmed down pretty fast. You are doing great.”
Reducio@Victoria Blythe Sorry for such the long wait, I definetly wanted to get this done a few weeks ago.
“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” ― Oscar Wilde
iNPC: Atticus Maxfield