Spectator Quidditch Durmstrang vs Beauxbâtons-Tenūsa - Summer 2026

████████████████ 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Thoughts, Speech 𝔏𝔬𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: Somewhere in the awful crowd. 𝔇𝔞𝔱𝔢: Summer; 2026.08.22 ████████████████

Tails, you lose! The golden glint disrupted her vision as the coin landed on her palm.

Her pale gray eyes blinked, listening to the laughter from other spectators around her, reminding her of her cousin's squeals of joy, having won for the first time.

The hyena finally won its first hunt of the season.

Barely.

It had been years since the creature Гулон Gulon had earned its meal.

Yet amongst the ever-growing crowd of souls, Nabi could not help but wonder just how starved the creature truly was, hearing the roars of those demanding to be fed more than just a bland game of Quidditch whilst holding the spoon.

She would emit a soft hum as she watched the players take to the skies as soon as the commentator announced them. Her gaze trailed along to see a familiar face and another she had not expected to see again after that night in the astronomy tower, many moons back.

"Mr. Dorian?" The lonesome wolf claimed to be, yet he wore different colors than what she recalled he wore that night. But that would not be the only peculiarity as she raised her eyebrow in mild amusement; the hyena seemed to appear... different.

Credit to Marigold Wesley

Primarily mentions @Marina Alacrán and @Aryaan Shamsi

Alejandros loved his half-sister very dearly, let it be known, or he would not have braved this weather. He was convinced by now that Scotland did not have summers, only stretches where the sun was somewhat more common than the misery. Today was the misery. This rain was light and persistent, enough to flatten his curls. By the game's end, they would surely be plastered to his forehead and stuck in his eyes. He had worn his white-and-blue striped sports jumper over another shirt, packed in case he needed it for his duel (he'd worn the short-sleeved shirt instead) and handy today because he had insufficiently packed for the cold. Ros had been deeply upset this morning when he realized he didn't even have his scarf. Then he'd secured la bandera de España the Spanish flag above his heart (a little pin he'd found and a good luck charm) and felt better.

For all his complaints, it had never been a question of if he would go. It was Rina's first Quidditch match! They cheered each other on, rain or shine. Plus, she hated the cold as much as he did, maybe more (maybe just more loudly). While she was down on the soggy grass, he was up trying to find the seat that had least turned into a puddle. It was a losing battle. He wish he knew a spell to dry it off, but he didn't yet, so he kept his Umbrella Charm aloft and brushed off the worst of it with his hand, cringing at the feeling.

Seated and shivering as he was, at least he wasn't stuck in this weather for the ninety minutes plus added time of a fútbol football match. Quidditch was kind of like if fútbol was in the sky, and a lot more violent. And maybe not so much like fútbol at all, when you accounted for the snitch and bludgers. He'd ended up a row behind and a few seats over from a girl he assumed was a Beauxbâtons student by her (weather insufficient) attire (@Kahira Valerian), not that he wanted to talk to anyone. It would be enough to summon the courage and volume to cheer anywhere near loud enough for Rina to have a chance to hear.

The moderator spoke in English he barely understood, so luckily he knew the basics of Quidditch. The Espinosas were decidedly not a Quidditch family, but he still grew up around it, and of course he'd paid more attention since Rina made the team. Rina was only on the bench to start, but Ros thought that was a good thing for the very reason it didn't last long. Quidditch was like very, very violent fútbol. He barely could follow what was happening (though some of that was the rain blowing sideways into his eyes).

Their Seeker scored some good points. And then... a bunch of players all tried to drop each other out of the sky. Bodies fell like flies, and not in the silly way of fútbol where they were mostly in the dramatics as foul-fishing. Amidst the tapestry of metal and bodies, he caught sight of one of his upperclassman, Aryaan. He was a little strange to Alejandros, but sort of in the way Rina was strange to him. They both just had an infinitely thinner brain-to-mouth filter than he did. But Aryaan wasn't so bad. He seemed quite perceptive and he'd given him a nickname -- a nice one, he was pretty sure? Ros liked the way Don Jandro sounded, anyway. It was no surprise that Aryaan was good enough to de-broom his target, even if he was caught for a penalty lap.

In growing horror (he had seen few Quidditch matches before), Ros counted the falling players. Two... four... five? Only one of them was saved. Ostras. Holy cow And this meant Rina was in now, he recognized her name being called. Dios mío. My god He was maybe about to see his half-sister be flattened like a crêpe. He scolded his own negativity as she mounted her broom, remembering what he was here for. —¡Vamos, Rina! Let's go! His loudest shout still would likely not make it to her over the wind and rain, but he had tried. Ros held tight to his wand and pressed his other hand into his knee, muttering more encouragements under his breath.