18 Apr 2024, 20:51
Well, That's Unfortunate
April 11th | @Jack Warren
Opeila had never been a flyer.
Not that she was bad at the subject, she aced it as far as books could help her, but her absolute lack of feeling for brooms never got her past that E she only barely managed to get anyway- and she wasn't sure if Professor Lin wasn't giving her that more out of pity than anything else either.
When she had started using her mother's old broom instead of the school issued ones, she had lived with the illusion that it would miraculously improve her flying for a short while, only to have her bad awakening with a broken leg in the hospital wing after very much overestimating herself.
The Slytherin knew the theory and rules, could cite many of them in her sleep, but when it came to applying them... It just wouldn't work.
She still wasn't entirely sure what masochistic spirit had possessed her when she applied to be the first captain of the Slytherin Broom Racing Team a few years back and she was even less sure if whoever looked at the sign ups and picked her for the job hadn't been under the influence of confusion concoction or... some other substance.
Anyways who should be surprised that the Brisk Basilisk never won a single race while she was still captain. She simply wasn't made for it.
Which did not stop Opeila from trying, obviously. Sometimes, usually around curfew, when most of her peers were already in their dorms, she would take her broom to the training pitch and practice. Try to relax, leave the ground without immediately feeling dizzy and her hands getting sweaty, without immediately tensing up entirely. It didn't work. It never did. For a while, Wyatt had tried to help her, but she didn't seem to see her friend that much nowadays.
So she did it alone.
This time she picked the time where her peers as well as the visitors from the other schools were eating their supper- it was especially difficult to find some privacy with them around, staying on the grounds in sight of the Training Pitch.
So what was a better time to try her luck? On her way down to the Training Pitch, Opeila didn't see a soul, so it seemed like she was actually lucky this evening.
Her hair had grown long enough to easily tie it into a bun again, which she did- it grew back a lot wavier than it had been when it was waist length, she hadn't even known that her hair could be this wavy- and she had picked a dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants to fly in. If she was going to have an audience after all, she would make a fool herself while looking like one too, but she didn't care too much. Her seer senses told her she was alone, so she was alone.
... Absolutely, she was alone.
Mounting her broom, she took a deep breath. Relax. It was not that different from riding a horse, right?
... It was so darn not like riding a horse.
