date- October 21st, 2025
wc- 262
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interacting/mentioning- @Charlotte Winfield
ooc notes- this is so late i’m so sorry, i was attacked by writer’s block 
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Maybe it was something inhuman that caused the need to constantly practice. Pushing, pushing, always waiting for the peak of adrenaline that made you feel like you were floating. Sage had always been a runner, but the thrill of Quidditch felt more accustomed to her magical side.
Just a few days ago, Sage’s team had decimated the Gryffindor team 250-20. That didn’t mean she needed less practice. Less conditioning equaled less success. That was simple math. So there she was, balanced on her Silver Arrow, spinning laps in the air. Scotland’s chill October weather brushed her skin into a bright flush as she went, like some sort of invisible force trying to calm her nerves.
There was an Ancient Greek myth she’d heard about when she was younger. The fall of Icarus. The myth of Daedalus. Whatever you called it, the ending was the same: Icarus fell. Ever since Sage had started playing Quidditch, well aware of how often people ended up in the hospital wing, she hoped she wouldn’t end up like Icarus.
There were many stories, classic novels and fabled myths, Sage had read at that point in her life. One of the few things she liked about her dad being a muggle was her easy access to muggle fiction. Brontë, Wilde, Plath had all at some point found their way onto Sage’s bookshelf. There was something so magical about being a well-read Quidditch beater.
She raced another lap around the pitch. The faster she sped on her broom, the more the risk of losing future matches seemed to disappear.
