Disaster From High Above
| ISSUE NO. 001 | [ OUTDOOR CLUB AREA • OCT. 24th, FRI ] |
| ?????? | They say if you believe it, you can undoubtedly fly. In Aurelia's case though, infamous for taking everything in the literal sense had called the aforementioned phrase absolute codswallop. Never had she thought nor dreamed the possibility of flying, and what is stopping her from holding on to this belief? She did not fly in Croydon and she is not flying now for the sake of proving her credibility as a witch. A learning witch, in particular. Speaking of learning, it is also undeniable that the young badger proved herself useless in terms of flying, and had been flunking practical outputs of this specific subject since her First Year. In the year-end examinations, it had been anticipated for her to also flunk the practical part of the test. Of course, this prediction failed to disappoint her—Aurelia did struggle to meet the requirements and demands of such a difficult subject and voila, she flunked the practical Flying examination. She had been pondering as to whether she should drop the aforementioned subject or not, however, talking to Professor @Ruckus Weems is something she deemed outright mortifying after that mediocre performance in the testing hall. Perhaps next year. Perhaps not ever. To think that she inherently thought she could overcome it all, Aurelia never did outgrow her fear of heights. A certain altitude and she would be already sweating bullets, her palms also moist. The focus of her worried gaze will be down below. Anything higher than this questionable point and the moisture will now come from her dark eyes, wailing helplessly as she wondered about what she did prior to this in order to be deserving of such absolute torment. During Flying lectures, it was also discussed multiple times about traffic accidents being common. It did not help to soothe her nerves. Not that the information being shared is meant to soothe and comfort an individual such as her. It is only to raise awareness. To be safe, Aurelia decided from that point onwards that brooms should not be considered a possible transportation for her someday. Stalker—her feline pet—could be in his death bed, choking and mewling pitifully, and the quickest way to arrive in the veterinary clinic is through brooms. The young Valentine would gladly walk there upfront. Aurelia did not understand the appeal. |
??? | Nevertheless, Ruth I. Fairchild—a fellow Hufflepuff and also an acquaintance of hers—is exhilarated by the idea of soaring high, and therefore any cautionary tales of terrible traffic accidents did not prevent the braided girl from joining the Hufflepuff Broom Racing Roster. Such resilience and bravery; although, for Aurelia, these qualities are not exactly enviable in terms of flying. According to her—she had mumbled it one day—she is not the one constantly bleeding in these matches; not the one willfully meeting the absolute horrors and everything the broom racing tracks has to offer. The ordinary obstacles had been doable, ranging from the easiest to the most difficult to race through. Not until the moderators considered it entertaining and wonderful to release wild and dangerous magical creatures in the tracks too. The young badger is fully convinced that Hogwarts is deliberately endangering its students. Regardless, it is of no concern to her as she is always and only there in the stands, where she is safe and sound, reading books and constantly questioning her place in the Wizarding World. Not in the skies, for sure. Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. Teach us something, please! Except death and absolute horrors, of course. The cold wind that Friday blew gently against Aurelia's cheeks as though she was being kissed. Grey clouds marched excruciatingly slow over the horizons, casting such a depressing hue on the Scottish Highlands. One would think a mean storm would come to obliterate everything in its path, however, the weather has been like this for days now, and it will continue to stretch on until the end of October. Winter is fast approaching, another inevitable change of the season [the passage of time is extremely terrifying!] The sound of grass being crunched beneath the soles of her Mary Janes became a monotonous rhythm as Aurelia marched towards where the wooden bleachers near the starting line of the broom racing tracks stood. Her breath is remarkably heavy. The travel between the Hogwarts castle and the Outdoor Club Area is excruciatingly far; is there no way to shorten such a long walk? The muscles in her calves must already be toned. Just like winter, Fall Broom Racing matches are also steadily approaching. The young badger assumes that the rosters must be constantly practicing; whether that may be individually or by group. It also poses the possibility that @Ruth Fairchild must be practicing at the moment, as she is nowhere to be found in the Hufflepuff Common Room or in both dormitories. There is no harm in watching an acquaintance hone their skills… or so she thought.[ 817 WC ] |
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   STA 4 ♥︎ EVA 10 ♥︎ STR 3 ♥︎ WIS 8 ♥︎ ARC 7 ♥︎ ACC 8 |
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[ the golden girl; the harshness of such warm light ]
[ aurelia valentine, the golden girl ] † [ lucien de montfort, the deranged artist ]
Visit Lourine's SMITTEN shop for handmade pfps with DISCOUNT—FREE for AI pfp users.
[ aurelia valentine, the golden girl ] † [ lucien de montfort, the deranged artist ]
Visit Lourine's SMITTEN shop for handmade pfps with DISCOUNT—FREE for AI pfp users.
Disaster From High Above
By Aurelia Valentine
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’𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
❝It wasn’t that Ruth was afraid of defeat.❞
“If anything, she was confident this wouldn’t be the case.”
—Crash Landing into You—
𝖂hat was bliss, if not the feeling of wind on your face as you soared through the skies? The rush of the breeze sending your unruly braid flying, the filicitous sensation of your lips splitting into a grin as you–
“Whoo!” Ruth hooted as she honed in from a curve, leaning her body closer to the handle of her Silver Arrow ( which remained unnamed, much to the disappointment of fellow @Joseph Sims). She should not be having this much fun. Where she should have been channelling this exuberance into focusing on improving her weaknesses, the Hufflepuff had vetoed her concentration into one more…reckless, per se.
This, she tried to reason with a reasonable enough excuse, that being her going around the tracks, just not in a manner suitable for broom racing. Her lack of self-control resulted in her making courageous attempts to fly without holding onto her broom, etc.
Now she took hold of the broom, gripping it steadily as she swooped upwards, past the auburn, olive drab leaves, till she glimpsed a sight of the grey canvas beaming down on her. High above the trees, she brought her knee up slowly, setting the sole of her shoe down onto the broom.
Maybe this was her mechanism against the creeping anxiety at the race happening in two days, against Gryffindor. It wasn’t that Ruth was afraid of defeat. If anything, she was confident this wouldn’t be the case. Her trust in her team continued to grow, and she was developing a fondness for each member, knowing them well enough to be confident they would carry their weight.
But could she?
What are you doing, Ruth Fairchild? She had to stop. This was the thought that wrestled for dominance within her mind, against the impetuous actions that had led to both her legs on the broom till she was on all fours. Her Silver Arrow wobbled precariously.
Maybe, this really was a bad idea. Ruth snapped herself out of such a trance. Too late, too late! The Hufflepuff had resorted to standing on her broom, arms stretched out in an effort to balance against the wind that teased her sides. A gust on the left, then her right. Blast, how could she have already grown rusty? It had barely been a month since she had performed this trick. Now that logic had been instilled into the girl’s head, and she had realised that this was far from what she should have been doing all this time, all confidence left her.
Even the slightest tilt was suddenly enough to catch her off guard. Ruth lost control and was sent slipping to her left. The comfort of the wood beneath her feet was lost, and if not for a hasty grab for the handle, she would have plummeted towards the ground.
Not that this situation was any better. The broom jerked underneath her grasp, the abrupt downward torque dragging both of them towards the ground diagonally. Ruth felt her mouth open to scream as they dropped straight for the stands, where she was soon to crash into the bleachers and Aurelia.
Wait. “Aurelia?” Ruth gasped out, before missing the highest seat by a hair and landing on her bum on the grass behind the seats.
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❧ 𝐑 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐋 𝐄 𝐒 𝐒 … 𝐈 𝐒 𝐎 𝐋 𝐃 𝐄 … 𝐅 𝐀 𝐈 𝐑 𝐂 𝐇 𝐈 𝐋 𝐃 ❧
ALMOST EVERYTHING 𝐓he sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |
Disaster From High Above
xxxxxx
Not that she was disappointed as Ruth was neither a close friend nor an important person in her life. The badger could be a dancing jester for all she cared and it would be of no concern to her at all. The girl does not want to be seen, clearly.
Winston Smith briefly marvelled at the crazy intuition the proletarians had when it comes to bombs being dropped in the area. They were quick; they announce its arrival from the top of their lungs whilst they were scrambling away, directionless—like bugs and insects from an overturned moss-covered rock. Just like the proles, Aurelia felt the impending arrival of dajger and with squinted eyes she looked above—only to see the very form of Ruth Fairchild being delivered to her from the heavens. Long braid floating in the wind as she pierced through the air, appearing like a lasso about to wrap its end around Aurelia's neck; a bright orange spectacle with the soft afternoon light as her spread wings; a sudden descent of an autumn angel. The young Valentine, tense in her position, decided at that moment that the least she could do is brace for impact.
Thy Kingdom come.
The Universe, for her, is always watching. There are no means in which one can obstruct its view from the world, and it is in full power with how it should operate. It is an unstoppable force that decides whether one deserves the utter worst or the utter best. The intangible feeling of being constantly watched? Thatt is it. Although the young badger does not believe in the existence of a god, it is contradictory to suppose that there is something pulling the strings. Her reason? That life is strange and unironically hilarious to not be governed with something that is clearly sick in the head. A former sentiment she was pondering whilst traversing the path toward the Outdoor Club Area was easily debunked within this very moment. Thst former sentiment being that Aurelia will stay in the partially timeworn bleachers as it was safer compared to participating in flying sports, which involved passing through manmade horrors.
The Universe is willing to bend its back to a disturbing degree in order to prove her stupidly wrong.
Here comes the shooting star.
A forceful breeze wind past, like a flash, there were no sufficient time to brace herself for the supposed collision—and it only flustered a few curls and her robe. An audible crack sounded from somewhere unknown, and let's just hope it was only a twig and not some physical damage that needed professional mending. A blink and an apprehensive shudder later, Aurelia turned with a slowness which indicated her expectation of the worst and unwillingness to witness it firsthand. Fingers unconsciously gripped at the wooden, shabby bleachers.
“What are you hoping to gain by recklessly flying like that?” the young witch coughed up the words, amber eyes wide from disbelief.xxxxxx
𝚂𝚃𝙰 4 ♥︎ 𝙴𝚅𝙰 10 ♥︎ 𝚂𝚃𝚁 3 ♥︎ 𝚆𝙸𝚂 8 ♥︎ 𝙰𝚁𝙲 7 ♥︎ 𝙰𝙲𝙲 8
[ the golden girl; the harshness of such warm light ]
[ aurelia valentine, the golden girl ] † [ lucien de montfort, the deranged artist ]
Visit Lourine's SMITTEN shop for handmade pfps with DISCOUNT—FREE for AI pfp users.
[ aurelia valentine, the golden girl ] † [ lucien de montfort, the deranged artist ]
Visit Lourine's SMITTEN shop for handmade pfps with DISCOUNT—FREE for AI pfp users.