At Full Speed
Soon to meet @Ophelia Vanderbilt
Simon Kincaid may not have been the most brilliant broom racer to ever grace a house team at Hogwarts but having been on the Hufflepuff house team for several years now he didn't struggle with anything basic anymore. This particular morning he was taking some time to challenge himself, to fine tune the edges on his skill and test his limits.
His current focus was overrcorrecting at extreme speeds. He choose a wide open part of the school grounds, far away from the Whomping Willow and other trees, and would take to the sky to practice tight turns at full acceleration.
It felt absolutely brilliant and Simon wondered if he went this fast in matches. Probbably not. At this speed, brooms became hypersensitive and a shift in weight by just a fraction or a twitch of the wrist caused the broom to respond immediately. Precision began to feel like instability and that normally never bode well for the broom racer. Focus was very important during the races between the other houses, or in some cases the other schools. That is why he was practicing today. Perhaps the struggle could be overcome, the skill could be stregnthened, and he could take it with him to his next match-up.
Simon entered a sharp dive-and-spiral sort of maneuver. It was one he had done hundreds of times before but never this fast. The wind wipped acorss his face as the ground came closer and closer.
In the first rotation, he snapped the broom tighter than expected and the broom immediately reacted. Simon adjusted left, just slightly but it was too much and his spiral widened.
The ground was closer still.
So he corrected right and the broom jerked under him. His hands tigtened instictively and caused another correction - one he didn't mean to perform. So another correction was given.
As the air around him steadied and didn't feel so turbulent upon him, Simon realized that he was still in control in that moment but not the way he had expected. In that last moment, his insticts of years of flying had come into play. When he had tried to steer, he overthought it all.
Simon stopped thinking about that quickly approaching grass below and let his mind focus on the cool wind all around him and the wobbling on his broom softened. Everything became smoother. The spiral sort of stablized and in the last moment, just before leveling to the grass, his broom leveled out and eased out of the spiral. Simon was close enough to the grass below that he could reach out and brush the tips of the blades of grass if he wanted to.
Simon lifted back up to the sky as he thought about what had just happened. That had been cleaner than most of his rapid attempts. There had been less overthinking, less force, and therefore less interference.
He decided to try it one more time, and then a second. Simon was learning to trust his instincts and his experience and let that take direction in stressful times - because he had every ability to make it.
After two successful tries in a row - not faceplanting to the Hogwarts grounds, Simon landed back to the ground and headed to his enchanted satchel that he had placed under a tree. Some hydration was in order.
Be kind to one another. (*iNPC is Miles Thatcher)
At Full Speed
It was unusual for Ophelia to go around Hogwarts alone. Someone who knew her would know that. She'd follow her friends everywhere in the castle if it meant she wouldn't roam around alone. The idea gave her chills for no apparent reason.
But now she found herself alone in the Grounds of Hogwarts. When she first thought of coming here alone, she was skeptical. Not because she didn't want to go outside and get some fresh air, because she decided she wanted to go without company. She'd been shaky when she was walking out of the castle, but slowly, the nervousness vanished.
Ophelia had taken her bag with her after making sure her notebook and pens were inside. She didn't feel like reading at the time, so she left her book on her bed in the Gryffindor Common Room.
Taking in the fresh air outside the castle, she sat down under a tree and took out her stationery. Opening the book in the middle, where she had placed a bookmark the previous night, she started writing. She didn't know what she was writing, random letters formed words which formed the sentences that somehow possessed a meaning behind them.
She soon found out the scribbling of words was of something familiar, not the words, the descriptions. She was writing about the Grounds: the trees, the grass, the view, the smell, the temperature, the weather. She'd been writing about her present place like her life depended on it -it didn't-, and she hadn't even noticed that. The only thing she knew was that she was writing down something.
Originally, she'd wanted to write a letter for her parents, later go to the Owlery and send it, but she didn't want to tell them about the grounds of Hogwarts; she wanted to tell them about her experience here and the newest people she'd met.
Frustrated, Ophelia ripped out the page and made a paper ball, smacking it on her bag to later throw away. She rubbed her temples and proceeded to start writing something worth reading, but, as if a switch was turned off, she couldn't think of anything. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a groan. "I hate this," she muttered.
At Full Speed
Approaching @Ophelia Vanderbilt
After his near death experience with the ground, Simon decided he would head over to his satchel for a drink. A little hydration was always a good thing and the small break would allow him to decide if he wanted to fit in more broom racing practice or retire it for the day to something different all together.
On his way to his satchel, he saw a girl who was writing. He was just pulling out his water bottle when he noticed her ball up one of her parchments and smack it into her bag. Simon smiled, not at the girl's frustration, but in appreciation that even in her apparently frustrated state, she was going to take care of the Hogwarts' grounds. Some would litter without care and just because this school had elves to tend to it didn't mean it was their job picking up after everyone else.
The girl seemed very frustrated and after his long drink, Simon decided that he would go over and see if he could perhaps help. Some liked assistance when they were frustrated and some just wanted to be left alone. He didn't know which type this particular girl fell over but it was worth exploring as Simon always liked to help when he could. With his decision made, he placed his water bottle back into his satchel and threw it over his shoulder.
"Alright, who are we fighting?" he asked, hoping to ease some of her frustration by adding humor to the subject. He was only trying to help and hoped that it didn't seem he was mocking her because that wasn't his intent at all. "Is it a person? I haven't much experience in fighting a person," it was his girlfriend that was a former duellist. "I have somewhat fought a goose," he remembered years back. "You'd be amazed how little fear geese possess....."
Simon riffled through his bag for only a moment and pulled out a clear cellophane baggie and held it out to her. "Lemon drop? Lemon drops make almost everything better."
Be kind to one another. (*iNPC is Miles Thatcher)
At Full Speed
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O P H E L I A |
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V A N D E R B I L T |
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Coded by Cirrus Nam
At Full Speed
Offering assistance to @Ophelia Vanderbilt
"Oh, most geese I'm sure are quite lovely - but this goose was on a mission to attack." Simon remembered it going after poor Lucia quite vividly in his mind but luckily they were able to prevent any harm to any involved, goose included.
"Writing home can be tricky," he nodded. "Sometimes it can evoke feelings of homesickness," like when he would write Aunt Maggie, especially in those early years. He'd remember asking about his muggle friends and how they were or what was going on at the bookstore/bakery which had once been a place he spent much of his time.
"Or it can make you feel so lost for words when there's so much to say but things you'd rather leave out." That was like when he had written his father. He never knew what exactly was enough information to make his father feel like he had an answer but didn't provide any additional information which he might use for harm.
"If you don't mind me prying....what's difficult in your instance?" Maybe he could help. Simon figured he was fairly decent at writing, or at least conversing.
Simon was a helper. If he could help her, he wanted to. Hopefully the girl didn't view it as overstepping.
Be kind to one another. (*iNPC is Miles Thatcher)