4 Sep 2018, 04:04
Thin Air
At the age of 12, second year, no one could be expected to come up with their own spell. It was ludicrous, unheard of. And yet, there he was. Prefect of Ravenclaw and the only known practitioner of his signature spell. The only spell in existence that didn't need to be successfully cast, that relied on you not successfully casting. Some would call this boy brilliant, others stupid. He had visited the hospital wing several times, the nurse berating him for getting into a fight. He had refrained from telling her how self-inflicted they were. Bruises to the stomach, a lot of them. Whenever they healed he went straight back with more.
But this time, this time he was going to do it right. Minimal injury, maximum effectiveness. Leaping into the air, he twisted his body so it was facing towards the ground, wand at the ready. With a sharp exhale he hissed the spell he had so perfectly designed.
and then he tensed his core and muscles at the same time, coupling that with the sharp exhale to make a tense wall of muscle. It wasn't much, but it did it's part. It was a technique he had taught himself, spreading and lessening the impact of the spell, or of any physical attack, for that matter. With a loud bang, he felt a force send him up forcefully. The boy flew up wildly, high into the air before he lost the momentum necessary to fight against gravity's relentless grasp. And so, he twisted in the air, made sure he was facing straight down, and exhaled as he cast his spell again.
Again the sound rang out, again he was struck by a heavy force, not unlike an extremely painful punch and again the boy flew up higher into the air. He was flying. Flying awkwardly, perhaps. It was more like a contrived double jump, a way for him to change directions in midair, to dodge and evade an attack or to do the opposite, charging and tackling an opponent before they could gather enough wits about them to realize what had happened. Regardless how you used it, it was certainly a unique spell.
He had come across it by mere chance, the professor for DaDa had been explaining how, if cast improperly, flippendo launched you backwards, instead of launching the target forwards. It made the boy think more than a little bit about how that could be used for his personal gain. It was not for nothing that he had been placed in Ravenclaw. His brain naturally settled itself far outside the box. And so he cast the spell improperly on purpose. And lo and behold, the consistent results he had been promised were not disappointing.
From below, it must have been a strange sight. Billowing black robes and a flapping grey scarf being launched about by loud bangs. He had been keeping himself aloft for roughly a minute or two before he started becoming far too winded. Dropping down, he waited until he was almost on the ground before casting his spell again.
This time at an angle, sending him tumbling through the air, heading for the ground. It would hurt, but he wasn't going to die. All in all, a pretty decent day.
But this time, this time he was going to do it right. Minimal injury, maximum effectiveness. Leaping into the air, he twisted his body so it was facing towards the ground, wand at the ready. With a sharp exhale he hissed the spell he had so perfectly designed.
"Fleependo"
and then he tensed his core and muscles at the same time, coupling that with the sharp exhale to make a tense wall of muscle. It wasn't much, but it did it's part. It was a technique he had taught himself, spreading and lessening the impact of the spell, or of any physical attack, for that matter. With a loud bang, he felt a force send him up forcefully. The boy flew up wildly, high into the air before he lost the momentum necessary to fight against gravity's relentless grasp. And so, he twisted in the air, made sure he was facing straight down, and exhaled as he cast his spell again.
"Fleependo"
Again the sound rang out, again he was struck by a heavy force, not unlike an extremely painful punch and again the boy flew up higher into the air. He was flying. Flying awkwardly, perhaps. It was more like a contrived double jump, a way for him to change directions in midair, to dodge and evade an attack or to do the opposite, charging and tackling an opponent before they could gather enough wits about them to realize what had happened. Regardless how you used it, it was certainly a unique spell.
He had come across it by mere chance, the professor for DaDa had been explaining how, if cast improperly, flippendo launched you backwards, instead of launching the target forwards. It made the boy think more than a little bit about how that could be used for his personal gain. It was not for nothing that he had been placed in Ravenclaw. His brain naturally settled itself far outside the box. And so he cast the spell improperly on purpose. And lo and behold, the consistent results he had been promised were not disappointing.
From below, it must have been a strange sight. Billowing black robes and a flapping grey scarf being launched about by loud bangs. He had been keeping himself aloft for roughly a minute or two before he started becoming far too winded. Dropping down, he waited until he was almost on the ground before casting his spell again.
"Fleependo"
This time at an angle, sending him tumbling through the air, heading for the ground. It would hurt, but he wasn't going to die. All in all, a pretty decent day.
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice
5 Sep 2018, 03:30
Thin Air
Ah, the first week of school. Easy and slow with not very much homework; a time when you were supposed to catch up with friends and make some new ones. A time for the last deep breath before the plunge.
Yeah, right.
In her backpack, Evianna carried at least four rolls of parchment, each supposed to be filled with information and on the professors' desks by next Monday, and several brand-new second year textbooks (the bindings were already beginning to show signs of wear). Apparently, these Hogwarts professors had never heard of easing back into things, and the Ravenclaw knew that the second years' load of homework would only get heavier.
However, despite her rapidly increasing burden of schoolwork, the redhead found herself lying on her back, gazing up into the sky. Weather in the Scottish Highlands was typically characterized by clouds and rain, so she decided to enjoy the patchy sunshine while she could. Her current position, clear of tree branches and other obstructions, was absolutely perfect for cloud-gazing.
She alternated between searching the sky for shapes and sketching them in a small notebook. Her drawings, though admittedly not very impressive, were improving. Art had always been an interest of Evianna's, and childhood trips to museums and art exhibits had cemented it firmly into her head at an early age. The girl was happy to see her once basic line drawing improve into images with depth and detail.
So she practiced. She was halfway through a drawing of a bunny-shaped cloud when she heard the first bang.
Naturally, it startled the girl slightly, but she shook it off. Surely some first years were playing Exploding Snap or something by the lake. More importantly, she'd inadvertently jumped at the sound, and the tip of her pen had moved, ruining her rabbit completely. She tore the page out of her sketchbook with a sigh of disappointment and crumpled it, resolved to start over.
More bangs came from the the general proximity of the lake, and strangely enough the sounds seemed to be getting closer. Her cloud rabbit wasn't any closer to being finished, and the distractions weren't helping her at all. Frustrated, she flopped onto her back with a huff.
That was when the boy flew by.
It was so shocking and out of place that Evianna's brain hadn't registered it at first. Mild confusion and curiosity, however, quickly turned into oh my god some kid is falling out of the sky when she realized what had happened. Surely some poor child had fallen off a broomstick or something. Jumping to her feet, Evianna stood silently transfixed as the stranger plummeted toward the ground (and his inevitable doom).
She came to her senses moments before impact and rushed to the spot nearest to his landing point.
Yeah, right.
In her backpack, Evianna carried at least four rolls of parchment, each supposed to be filled with information and on the professors' desks by next Monday, and several brand-new second year textbooks (the bindings were already beginning to show signs of wear). Apparently, these Hogwarts professors had never heard of easing back into things, and the Ravenclaw knew that the second years' load of homework would only get heavier.
However, despite her rapidly increasing burden of schoolwork, the redhead found herself lying on her back, gazing up into the sky. Weather in the Scottish Highlands was typically characterized by clouds and rain, so she decided to enjoy the patchy sunshine while she could. Her current position, clear of tree branches and other obstructions, was absolutely perfect for cloud-gazing.
She alternated between searching the sky for shapes and sketching them in a small notebook. Her drawings, though admittedly not very impressive, were improving. Art had always been an interest of Evianna's, and childhood trips to museums and art exhibits had cemented it firmly into her head at an early age. The girl was happy to see her once basic line drawing improve into images with depth and detail.
So she practiced. She was halfway through a drawing of a bunny-shaped cloud when she heard the first bang.
Naturally, it startled the girl slightly, but she shook it off. Surely some first years were playing Exploding Snap or something by the lake. More importantly, she'd inadvertently jumped at the sound, and the tip of her pen had moved, ruining her rabbit completely. She tore the page out of her sketchbook with a sigh of disappointment and crumpled it, resolved to start over.
More bangs came from the the general proximity of the lake, and strangely enough the sounds seemed to be getting closer. Her cloud rabbit wasn't any closer to being finished, and the distractions weren't helping her at all. Frustrated, she flopped onto her back with a huff.
That was when the boy flew by.
It was so shocking and out of place that Evianna's brain hadn't registered it at first. Mild confusion and curiosity, however, quickly turned into oh my god some kid is falling out of the sky when she realized what had happened. Surely some poor child had fallen off a broomstick or something. Jumping to her feet, Evianna stood silently transfixed as the stranger plummeted toward the ground (and his inevitable doom).
She came to her senses moments before impact and rushed to the spot nearest to his landing point.
10 Sep 2018, 04:51
Thin Air
The ground came at him faster and faster until impact, slamming into the boy like a tree falling up into his face. Admittedly not a very good analogy but it was the only one he could come up with. The impact was more of a dull oomph, a sickening thud that seemed to knock sensation and breath out of the boy in a single fell swoop. Kaegen had just decided to maybe stay on the ground for a bit and not move until the numb feeling of pain faded more, when he realized he was indeed laying down on his stomach, back open to any one that wanted to take him out with a skillfully placed spell. So, in his infinite wisdom he rolled over on his back. In front of him was a girl that had clearly been trying to sneak up on him.
She hadn’t said anything, not even a quiet greeting. Just a silent and ominous approach to his crash site. The alternative to his current theory, which was that she was another death witch that wanted him dead and gone, was that she was just curious, and a bit scared. Not willing to give away her position. It made at least a small amount of sense. After all, if Kaegen was in her position, would he have said anything? He might have, he wasn’t sure. It was probably the right thing to do, at any rate. Introduce yourself. Or was it? What if the rules were different when applied to prefects? Was he supposed to give her permission to speak, was that why she wasn’t saying anything?
Deciding to stay on the ground but prepare in case of attack, Kaegen slowly crept his arms and legs into his robe like a turtle, feeling for what he knew was going to be there. A long thin knife strapped to his leg. In honesty it wasn’t all that long, but length was relative, and he wasn’t that big of a boy, which meant his leg wasn’t that long, and that meant the knife couldn’t be either. It was made out of a length of metal rod, hammered into the likeness of a sharp blade with a point. It had a slight twist to it but it was strong nonetheless. And as he slid it from its sheath and straps he ran over the plan.
If she was a death witch, he would stab up and through his robes. Take her out quickly and then maybe take a nap. Or just lie down. Lying down was sounding really nice, and it was all he could do to try to stop shaking. In a voice even quieter than what it normally was he attempted to gain some more information from the girl, anything to let him know whether she was friend or foe.
“You may speak...”
She hadn’t said anything, not even a quiet greeting. Just a silent and ominous approach to his crash site. The alternative to his current theory, which was that she was another death witch that wanted him dead and gone, was that she was just curious, and a bit scared. Not willing to give away her position. It made at least a small amount of sense. After all, if Kaegen was in her position, would he have said anything? He might have, he wasn’t sure. It was probably the right thing to do, at any rate. Introduce yourself. Or was it? What if the rules were different when applied to prefects? Was he supposed to give her permission to speak, was that why she wasn’t saying anything?
Deciding to stay on the ground but prepare in case of attack, Kaegen slowly crept his arms and legs into his robe like a turtle, feeling for what he knew was going to be there. A long thin knife strapped to his leg. In honesty it wasn’t all that long, but length was relative, and he wasn’t that big of a boy, which meant his leg wasn’t that long, and that meant the knife couldn’t be either. It was made out of a length of metal rod, hammered into the likeness of a sharp blade with a point. It had a slight twist to it but it was strong nonetheless. And as he slid it from its sheath and straps he ran over the plan.
If she was a death witch, he would stab up and through his robes. Take her out quickly and then maybe take a nap. Or just lie down. Lying down was sounding really nice, and it was all he could do to try to stop shaking. In a voice even quieter than what it normally was he attempted to gain some more information from the girl, anything to let him know whether she was friend or foe.
“You may speak...”
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice