Frigid Flights and Fast Friends
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| Location: Training Pitch | Date: Late November, 2025 - Morning | Word Count: 455 | Speech | Thoughts |
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────The green expanse that blanketed the training grounds shimmered faintly in what scant morning sunlight managed to elbow its way past the throng of clouds draped across the sky. Each delicate blade had been encrusted with the thinnest veneer of frost, like verdant velvet bedecked with microscopic diamonds. Hither and thither amongst the glittering greenery, small snowdrifts had accumulated, resting upon the land as if a clowder of white cats had staked a claim here, declaring the spot as sovereign territory belonging to the realm of Euphoric Slumberdom.
It was on this cold and slightly blustery Sunday that a pair of figures meandered onto the scene. A series of crisp and rhythmic crackles rose into the air from where their feet met - then shattered - the delicate glassy sheaths that had held the tiny emerald daggers. It was a pair of boys. One of them was a brunette Hufflepuff, the other was a ginger Slytherin, and both of them were only a handful of months into their seven year stint at the school dedicated to the art and science of arcane academia.
Seven years... assuming they both survived, of course. But this was Hogwarts, so obviously both of the boys would be completely safe and not traumatized by the experience in the slightest. Surely. It's not as though the institution - and the world of wixdom at large - was particularly well known for being a series of health-and-safety hazards and risk assessment nightmares or anything.
Regardless whatever perils doubtlessly awaited him - for now the blissfully ignorant Muggleborn known as Henry Holbrook ambled forth. Given the shiver-inducing temperature, he'd chosen to actually wear the winter cloak today, despite his usual distaste for the Hogwarts uniform. Granted, it was draped over his dad's oversized sweater and a pair of his favorite sweatpants, let's not get crazy now.
Slung across one shoulder was an object that could generously be described as a broom - though it more resembled a gnarled twig that had grown out a patchy beard of twiglet babies at one end. Grabbing this particular aeronautical device had been left to fate, and a fairly cruel one at that. He remembered it from flying lessons, and while it was fascinating to see a broom with a personality - he'd have preferred if he hadn't been saddled with one that was such a trickster. He'd been running a bit late for the agreed upon practice flight. Hopefully the mount he'd been destined for didn't turn it into a practice fall instead.
He smiled at the other boy as they walked, his breath coming out as steam in the cold air, "Bit overcast today, innit? Coulda waited for a sunny day if you'd've preferred that."─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Interaction: @Blaize Valerian
| OOC Notes: None |
Frigid Flights and Fast Friends
Whoever came up with the saying "the early bird gets the worm" did not consider the fact that this snake would rather become the first ever species to hibernate than to have to get up early.
With a piece of buttered toast sticking out the boy's mouth, and a random, newly acquired school broom tucked under his arm, the boy was begrudgingly making his way to the place known as the Training Pitch. A bit of a hike from where Flying class took place, but that was all the more reason to go out that far. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he SUCKED in that class. One could go as far to say as it looked like a person walking barefoot on a freshly mopped floor. A recipe for disaster, if you will. That's why no one could see him mess up.
Kahira, his sister, would for a fact try to join the quidditch team when she started school at Hogwarts next fall. And although he wasn't sure of joining a sports team yet himself, well two of the three of them required some sort of broom flying skills, so that was a good place to start. Or at the very least, stop embarrassing himself in class.
And so, he unfortunately had to call for backup in the name and face of Henry Holbrook, a Hufflepuff boy same age as him and just as clueless when it came to flying, but the one thing that sparked an interest in Blaize's eye was his determination and quick wits. At the very least, they could help each other hobble to the Hospital Wing together if the end all be all was indeed that bad. Raising his mitted hand to give the boy a single wave, or to flag him down as they met halfway onto the pitch, he'd give a quick shiver. A quick look up and down told him that Henry was going to burn up halfway through their practice, he looked like a giant marshmallow with fur, alas he was less likely to get sick from the cold in comparison where he wore his school robes with only an extra layer underneath being his knit sweater and breathable slacks (as one should never look comfy outside of the Common Room).
"Well you showed up anyways, aye? What's the plan, well besides falling off the brooms that is?"
@Henry Holbrook
Frigid Flights and Fast Friends
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| Location: Training Pitch| Date: Late November, 2025 - Morning | Word Count: 250 | Speech #1587A4 | Thoughts #1587A4 |
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Henry's eyes widened gleefully as he waved back at the Slytherin boy, "Good to see ya! Blimey, aren't you cold in that, mate?" He asked, his breath coming out as steam in the chilly morning air. He hadn't given much thought as to how warm he'd be himself once they were expending energy staying upright on a broom, nor if all the bulk would in any way get in the way of his aerodynamics or make him a bit top heavy. He just worried about not being cold at THIS moment. Overheating is FUTURE Henry's problem. And besides, surely a magic broom would account for all of that FOR him and correct any such awkward distributions. Ignorance truly is bliss, isn't it?
"O-oh! Right! Um... bloody hell, a plan would be good, yeah? Maybe for starters we can do a circuit around the pitch? After that, well... let's see if we get that far, first."
A gaze towards the broom in the other firstie's possession left the brunet's forehead pinched in confusing as he swiveled his azure orbs to his own contorted excuse for a broom, "Hmm... yours looks like it enjoys its life as a broom a bit more than mine does. Heh..." He tried swallowing down his nervousness. It didn't work. "Tumbling out of the sky and landing flat on your arse can't hurt THAT bad, can it? How bad can it be, we're magic..." Lying to himself wasn't helping the poor boy much either, what a pity.
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| Interaction: @Blaize Valerian|
| OOC Notes: None |