Fall Games Spectator Thread

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Bridget wouldn't have missed her old Quidditch team's game for anything, although she wished it wasn't raining so hard, for her sake and for her former teammates' sake. These were hardly ideal conditions; visibility would be lower, everything would be slippery, and hearing anything would be a struggle. Bridget was dressed accordingly for the sheets of water falling out of the sky in a green raincoat, jeans, rain boots, and the gloves she'd worn nearly every day last year to hide her cursed blood. She was still cold, though, shivering and sopping before the match had even begun. It would be easiest to just cast the Umbrella Spell, but after what had happened at the fight club, she was too scared to try casting it. Accidentally hitting someone with a bolt of electricity was not something she wanted to do again.

Even though she wasn't playing this time, even though she was the one watching, she could feel the same bundle of nerves in the pit of her stomach. What if her absence messed them up? She was aware of the fact she had been far from the best player, but she knew the game and whoever had taken her place wouldn't have had much time to practice with the team. Besides, even if she was just watching and it wasn't like she could contribute to Slytherin's success or failure, she was anxious for them to win. They shouldn't have lost to Gryffindor last year and this was their chance to make up for that.

Her lip was liable to be bleeding by the end of the game for how hard she was biting it. The weather was awful. If the match last year was any indication, this would be a bloodbath, all blatching and bludgering and falling players. She wouldn't be there to catch them. She wouldn't be there to take out threats on the other team first and thus increase the likelihood of her teammates making it through the game. She was sitting in the very front row of the stands, gripping the railing. It occurred to her that perhaps she was stressing over this far too much, but she wasn't sure how to calm down.

Bridget had never been a particularly loud person and the rain would drown out anything she said anyways, so instead she whispered her cheers. "Come on, you've got this. Go Slytherin!" Blinking away the water dripping down onto her eyelashes, she trained her gaze on the Pitch. She wasn't playing, but she wouldn't miss a moment of this game.

Raincoat | Boots | Gloves

It had been such a deluge ever since the cold had arrived. Perhaps it was the nearness to the lake, but October had been enduringly rainy. Flash wasn’t too disturbed, he felt worse for the players who were scheduled to play. Alan had asked him to come watch the game, since he was now a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. That wasn’t the only person on their team who he was eager to watch play though, there was also Rafael and Miss Evelynn. Really, as someone who made it his business to know people, there weren't many on either team that he didn’t have some passive knowledge of. He was going to be attending either way, since he himself was interested in the sport and his house was playing. It was new players on both sides, what with the recent shake-up with new sports convincing many of the players to let go of their positions.

Whether Flash ever ended up playing, he still enjoyed watching sports. It said a lot about the people playing, how they played. Also, it was exciting, and rooting for one team or another got the spirit of competition flowing. He didn’t have to be part of the Quidditch team to be proud of them, and want them to win. He felt the same way about the Slytherin dueling team. Perhaps it was biased pride, but he also knew its students were filled to the brim with the determination to prove themselves. It wasn’t as though they were undefeated like Hufflepuff was the year before, but he liked to think that was just a matter of the students being mostly young. Once the Quidditch team got more practice in, surely they would overwhelm the competition.

Dressed warmly, Flash went to the familiar stands, feeling quite excited. He might have looked a bit overdressed for a Quidditch game, but those were just the kinds of clothes he owned. He wore neither green nor red, instead going with blues and purples. It wasn’t every day that he had something fun to look forward to, most days he bogged himself down with studying and planning. Taking notes upon notes, following people, and confronting people. This evening, the rain would not put any kind of damper on his mood. He was relieved to be able to sit back and enjoy himself. With his wand held against his shoulder, the umbrella spell already protecting him from the pelting water, he looked briefly at the open seats.

Going up to sit in the front, he peered past the many hooded figures, now naturally cautious and obsessively observant. He felt even more fortunate to recognize one face in particular, though her expression was a far cry from 'cheerful'. Taking a seat beside her quietly, the rain above her would mostly cease as his spell's effect would be far enough to at least spare most of the both of them.

"Feeling tense?" Flash asked first. With people who knew him, he didn't have to bother with endless niceties to begin the real conversation. "Not exactly the seat you're used to sitting in during these games."

Interacting with: @Bridget Collins
Outfit:

Reducio

Interacting With: @Henry Knight
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Today was the first Quidditch game of the year, Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Nick never attended these games, so this setup was new to him. He could never get into Quidditch, there were so many rules, and it was hard to follow along because so many people were doing so many different things. Henry and Nick planned to attend today, though, because one of his friends, Cash, was playing. Not supporting your house was one thing, but not supporting your friend was just rude.

Nick loved the rain, mostly because Scotland was never short of it. He knew most people didn't though, not being used to how hard the Highlands cry, and he could imagine how the rain made Quidditch less enjoyable to watch. All the rain and the gloomy sky made for low visibility. He couldn't even imagine what the Quidditch players have to deal with, being paired with extra slippery brooms.

As Nick stepped down the stands towards the front, he pulled up his raincoat hood. He may like the rain, but he had his limits, soggy hair was not fun to deal with. Looking through the crowd of students that were beginning to form, he searched for Henry. It was hard to spot anyone that was facing away from him since most everyone had raincoats on.

After Nick searched for a bit, he still couldn't find Henry. He stood by the rail to see if anyone in the crowd. As he turned, though, he saw the side view of a brunette boy's face. He seemed to look like Henry as he approached him more, though he was very lost in thought. Placing a hand on his shoulder to see if that would get his attention, Nick simply asked, "Henry? Ye good?"

Outfit

@Flash Holmwood

Bridget watched as the players came out of their respect locker rooms, the brilliant reds and greens of their jerseys quickly fading to a darker shade as they became drenched from the onslaught of rain. Needing something to do to distract herself from worrying, she took stock of the new players and brooms. That was one thing that put the Hogwarts Stadium over the professional one in London; while not as grand, it was easier to see the players. There were an awful lot of Silver Arrows in hand, a stark contrast to the predominantly school brooms of last year's first game. That had to count for something, and certainly playing on such a high-quality broom would serve as an advantage, though she still noted a few old school-issued brooms among the nicer, newer ones.

Her gaze stopped on Thora a little longer. She silently wished her best friend good luck, even though the brunette, Silver Arrow in hand, was taking her seat at the bench. Bridget frowned, again facing the dilemma that came with second-strings. She wanted her friend to finally have a chance to play, to show off all her skill from a year spent training, but at the same time, wanting her to play entailed hoping Koko fell, which was hardly something the blonde Keeper deserved. Besides, she doubted Koko was the first on Gryffindor's list of who to target. She was a talented Keeper, having let in few goals last season (including, unfortunately, the one that had won Gryffindor the game), but Keepers were hardly the position teams often targeted. They were important, sure, but at this level of play, the Seekers tended to control the outcome of the game. Still, she couldn't help but hope Thora got a chance to play.

Speaking of people she wished could have their chance to play, the rain above her abruptly ceased. An upward glance showed a transparent umbrella coming from the tip of someone's wand. She turned towards the owner of the wand and was met with a familiar face. Flash. She mustered as much of a smile as she could with her stomach still a bundle of nerves, a way of expressing her gratitude for the respite from the downpour without actually bringing it up. As a third year, she was perfectly capable of casting her own Umbrella Spell. It was funny how one bad memory could keep you away from something.

He commented on the nerves that were surely showing. Tense was an excellent way to put it. "Yes," she admitted. "I guess it still feels like I'm out there." Even as she said it, though, she felt herself relax just a little bit. Maybe it was being in the company of someone she felt comfortable with, or perhaps it was something else about Flash, this tangible wave of calm she seemed to encounter whenever he was around. The Slytherin splayed her fingers out over her knees; she didn't need to be squeezing anything. The game would be fine. She looked back out at the players as they took a lap around the pitch; it was much easier to see without water falling in her eyes.

"It doesn't really help that we're against Gryffindor. If the last time we played them is any indication, this will look an awful lot like the Hufflepuff versus Durmstrang match." She sighed. "Except, both teams are Durmstrang." Gryffindor and Slytherin were both the type of team willing to do just about anything to win, which often translated to more violent games. Unlike Hufflepuff, whose strategy seemed to eschew any form of foulplay, the Red and Green Houses were perfectly fine with such tactics. Utilizing fouls wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was risky. If you were successful, you took someone out of play or forced the other team to double-up on brooms, but if you failed, you'd be out of action for a round with nothing to show for.

It was easy enough to guess where the bludgers would go first. The Seekers. Erin, who hopefully wouldn't be out in the first round again. Considering Kyle DeRook was on the bench, Slytherin would probably avoid taking out the Gryffindor Beaters. If Gryffindor was smart, they'd know Alexx was a threat, but even if they did go for her, the older snake was not the type to go down without a fight. Outside of that, she wasn't really sure; not knowing all the players meant strategy was harder, although Dan and Tyranni were certainly well-prepared. So... now, all she had to do was watch, really, and cheer her old teammates on. For how ridiculously easy it sounded, she was finding it rather hard, but she supposed she'd just have to get used to this.

Opeila decided to go to the game this time. The last Quidditch game had been on her birthday and Opeila simply hadn't felt like celebrating back then. But today she would watch. It was Percival's first game after all, right? ... No, thinking about Percival was bad. The Slytherin knew that it was only fair that she broke up with him, but it hurt anyway. One distraction gone. And that way of thinking was the reason why she had to let go. Percival, with all his strengths and selfdestructive weaknesses deserved better than being a distraction.

Flash's coat was shielding her from the water falling out of the sky when the second year made her way to the Quidditch Pitch. She could already hear the faint noise of excited chatter from a hundred meters away.
Opeila wasn't excited. She felt a little like the weather. A part of her wanted to turn back and go to her common room. Up to her dorm room and hide from people. From life.

Moving on. You have to move on.

The little girl arrived in the stands last minute really. Most people already found a seat, excited for the match to start. Opeila looked around for a place to sit. Was there someone she knew? Yes, there was Flash. And Bridget, chatting. When did Flash and Bridget become friends? Opeila looked at the two for a moment a little confused by the sudden resentment she felt. So silly, really, She had not spoken with her best friend for ages, so she didn't really have a right at all to feel jealous. Especially as she was likely seeing things that were not there.

Still Opeila couldn't help it and quietly she walked over to a bench with some third years she didn't know, sitting down at the most outside corner. It was the same as with Percival, right? It was good when Flash found friends and Opeila kept her distance. He couldn't be a part of that chaos her life was now. It was too dangerous.
Opeila closed her eyes and shook her head. With her right hand she pulled off the hood and turned her face up to the sky, into the rain. Where breaking up with Percival had been painful, letting Flash go was an unbearable thought. For a moment she just let the cold water run down her face, before she looked down the benches. A familiar voice cheered the Slytherin team on. Opeila's gaze stopped at the back of Percival's head for a moment, before looking back at the pitch.

Mentioning @Percival Rainwood @Flash Holmwood @Bridget Collins

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The buzzing anticipation that comes with opening day was met with rain, a gloomy setting for an otherwise exhilarating occasion. Despite lacking a quidditch background, Thomas understood the spectacle was half the appeals of sports. The electricity from a impassioned crowd and the contrast of emotions they could experience at any given game. The many that rise to their feet in joy, or sink below in despair. It was a wonderful range of emotions, all to be experienced without moving from the confines of your seat. At least for those that are invested.

What of the others, the ones that aren't invested? Like Thomas Lestrange. One would not need to look past the pouty expression his lips to detect he was not thrilled to be here. A newly attained role on the Headliner cemented a regular presence going forward. He would attempt to summon the nostalgia from ice hockey in attempt to mend his disinterest. Though as he looked at the rosters of their respective teams, it was difficult to get excited.

Thomas settled on a seat in the utmost corner, in the back. Among the seats highest off the ground, and more importantly---as far away from his peers as possible. Yes, Thomas has the intention to be friendlier this year, more positive, and outgoing. Though the boy's initial article held value, he wanted to make a good impression. Not to miss a moment for idle chatter.

After a brief introduction, the teams made their rounds. Thomas retrieved his quill that was attached to a rough leather journal. He flipped it open, leaning his frame over to shield the slick pages from droplets. There were several notes already scribbled along the first page. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin - October. Below were the respective rosters by position. A few notes for the new faces, followed by his predictions for the match. In relief, Edric Banes catches the snitch. Slytherin 180 - Gryffindor 40.

After a fleeting scan of what was written, his blue eyes traveled to view the players. First, the captain that led the Lions onto the pitch. The pair were off to a rocky start, undergoing a battle off fisticuffs just minutes after their introduction. Not that Thomas held anything against the boy. Next, his co-captain--Decipio. A girl who stands mysteriously by trees.[Can't comment further since I'm slow responding to our thread.]

A notable change of expression occurred when Thomas' eyes flickered to those wearing black and green. From neutral, to disdain. Where to begin? The captain that resides in Thomas' dorm, trapped in the wrong universe as his feet are not as thick, nor is he as low to the ground as the traditional race not donning footwear. Not to mention his eyes stared for far too long, and too low, when Thomas graced the Slytherin commons with his bathing attire.

Behind Palmer was the master of close quarter attacks, the lip tyrant, robber of innocence, and a girl Thomas intended to socially distance from. The next target of interest--well, disdain, er...abhorrence? From brunette, to purple, now to blonde? Likely another cry for attention, the no longer intriguing Erin Ryan. There was room enough for one horrifying blonde on this campus, now there are two of them! Right on cue, Miss Barret, keeper of tears, letter thief, likely seasoned long thrower, and tossing enthusiast.

Thomas buried his face in his hands upon the realization he would silently be rooting for Gryffindor. Though he would not vocalize this fact to avoid the ire of his fellow snakes in the crowd. So he would mutter softly to himself... "Go Bludgers...".

Interacting with: @Opeila Winters
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Paisley didn't have much experience with quidditch. She had played a few times at her family's house, and she had loved it, but it wasn't the same as going to a game. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened at Hogwarts, minus her first night, and sneaking out onto the grounds, and learning magic, and-well, you get the point. A lot of crazy things had happened at Hogwarts that seemed completely out of the blue. But this, this felt normal. This was something that almost every student in the entire school would be attending, and it wouldn't be a private meeting. Paisley was excited and she was practically skipping down the steps out of the castle.

Trailing out of the castle with the rest of the students, she felt her heart flutter excitedly in her chest. Rain pelted her umbrella and a shiver ran down her spine, but she ignored it for the most part. I sure do hope the Quidditch pitch has covering. she thought cheerfully, although it didn't matter to her. She just didn't want the other students complaining about being wet the whole time. She didn't like being cold, but nothing could flounce on her mood at that moment.

Paisley wiggled into the crowd of people once she neared the stands. She was weary about being this squished, but she figured that if there were any sickness going around, the entire school would already have it anyways. She closed her umbrella so that she could fit into the tight quarters.

Up she climbed until she reached the place where the students sat. It was far below the teachers, but the seats were all the same to her. She looked around excitedly, noticing not many people were there yet. She bounced slightly, both with anxiety and excitement. She had taken a seat in the far back, so that she could open her umbrella and offer it to anyone who needed it without blocking another person's view.

For a few quiet moments she watched the people go by, the rain trickling down her face. The flustered air that always hung around the girl thickened. When another student sat down near her, she glanced over. Their face was sorrowful and their clothes were sopping wet from rain. Paisley felt a pang of sympathy, but she shoved it down seeing their crest on their robe. They're a Slytherin! she realized, but seeing the look on the girl's face, so distracted and melancholy, she couldn't help but pipe up. Ir was hard for her to sit around when someone was looking so sad.

"Hi," she said, biting her lip. It wouldn't be appropriate to ask if the girl was alright. No, what they needed was a distraction from their thoughts. "I know this is completely random, but who's the best quidditch player who's most likely to go to an official team?" she asked, pausing for a few moments. "Sorry about the randomness, I'm new to going to these games."

Boots Outfit Umbrella