Worlds P.V. Hui Ming closed

Interacting: @Kage Suzuki
Mentioning: @Evelynn Decipio

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Hui Ming was not the type of person you would look at and think 'sporty'. Lanky, quiet and bookish; the boy would not look out of place amongst the children of bibliophilic academics, who spend more time with musty books than in the company of fully-functioning humans beings. From his pristine button-up shirt to his oxford shoes to his carefully crafted hair, from the carefully framed glasses to the stony poker face, the Chinese boy looked more like a careful imitation of a human being than the real thing.

Amidst the students at the quidditch pitch, the Slytherin boy stood out to the discerning eye, for the boy displayed neither exuberance nor excitement. Sharp eyes followed the players, trying to make sense of the movements, the balls and the game as a whole.

In his mind, this was an exercise in futility. Quidditch was a stupid, dangerous game where people flew at high speeds at lethal heights for no reason other than to show off. The game could easily have taken place 5 feet above the ground and not lost anything. It was another one of the many mindless activities that was universally loved by the wizarding world, but that he failed to comprehend. At all.

Truth be told, he would not even have made this token effort to understand this game, especially after his first-hand knowledge of first years flying in certain games; when they did not know how to cast the cushioning or the decelerating spells in case they fell off their broom. He had recently heard that Miss Decipio was co-captain of the Gryffindor team, and that had given him pause. The prefect had appeared to him to be level-headed and unexpectedly sane.

On the basis of that, he had brought himself down here, at the risk of having to interact with the adrenaline junkie, borderline suicidal crowd that was much of the student base.

"You interested in Quidditch? You should join the teams. It's pretty fun."

Indeed, it did not take long for someone to approach him. Ming's eyes moved from the fliers to the person who had approached him. He was taller than Ming, and had the build of an athlete. His attire was hardly acceptable in polite company. But then, perhaps he was here to play, and not to spectate?

"Perhaps," Ming hedged. It would not do to offend someone about what was clearly their favourite sport when even the flying professor had to tread carefully around the subject. "I confess, it all seems rather too confusing currently with its balls and positions, but I am confident I can make sense of the whole thing."

The Chinese boy chose not to mention either his distaste of brooms - the broader problem of the risk-loving nature of the magical world; or that his house had a large waitlist for almost any of the 'sports'. Instead, he attempted civility. "I am flattered you'd think I would be any good at this, Mister."

Mentioning/Interacting: @Hui Ming
Outfit
Languages: English, German, Japanese

When the boy turned to face him, Suzuki could tell that he didn't respect Quidditch much. First of all, his appearance. Formal outfit- more formal than anything Suzuki had ever worn in his life. Were those Oxfords on his feet? His speech was even formal. He sounded like a professor.

"Perhaps, I confess, it all seems rather too confusing currently with its balls and positions, but I am confident I can make sense of the whole thing."

Suzuki paused. This kid was more confusing than the words he used.

" It's not that confusing. The Quaffle- the giant football thing that gets thrown around is supposed to go through the big metal hoops around the arena to earn points. That's what the Chasers do. The Keeper is like the goalie in football- assuming you're Muggleborn here. The Seeker, the random guy zooming around in the air, is trying to find a small golden ball, the Snitch. Finding the Snitch pretty much guarantees their team victory and ends the game, but it isn't easy to find. The beaters- I'm a beater- just try to whack those two metal balls with a bat around to hit others and to make sure their own teammates don't get hit. Make sense?"

He was a terrible explainer- everything was out of order, and Suzuki felt like he'd just made it more confusing to the kid. He grimaced slightly.

"I am flattered you'd think I would be any good at this, Mister," the boy remarked.

Suzuki shrugged, and slumped down in the grass, setting his Silver Arrow down beside him. " I had my doubts, but looks can be deceiving. You're not from around here, are you? I mean- are you Muggleborn? Or a Half-blood? Not that that matters much to me. Just wondering."

If he was either of the two, Suzuki could understand his confusion. Since his mother hadn't bothered with him, he came to Hogwarts thinking he could wave around a wand and do anything. Now he knew that magic didn't work like that.

Growing up around a group of stupid, crazy boys who were afraid of pretty much nothing, Suzuki had grown to love sports of all types. It mattered not that one false move could send you to the other world. Not anymore, at least. All that mattered was the thrill, and winning.

Interacting: @Kage Suzuki

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The Slytherin boy looked back up once the explanation was given, trying to process the game in light of the information provided. Those were metal balls that they were playing aerial dodgeball with! Even more insane was the idea of the seeker and the snitch.

After a couple of seconds, he nodded in satisfaction. It would hardly do for him to voice his instant reactions - about how crazy and dangerous this game sounded, or how the current strategy seemed a bit unsound. If he was in charge of running the teams, he would have two of the chasers and the keeper 'mind' one of the hoops each - there seemed to be no restriction on the Chasers handling of the ball as there was in football. With the final Chaser 'marking' the opposition Seeker similar to in basketball, it would make the game simpler. But this was a place for emotions and adrenaline, and logic and common sense were often seen as unwanted lip. So the Chinese boy kept his mouth shut and brought his eyes back down from the players to the senior who had approached him.

The senior had slumped down into the grass in the meanwhile it seemed. Ming fought to keep his face neutral, but the smallest frown of disapproval manifested itself on the corner of his lips. If you had to sit down, you could at least lay something down on the ground first!

Like many of his instincts, the Slytherin bit this one down too. He was hardly in a position to lay his thoughts out plainly here. Instead, he chose to engage with what the senior had said and drive the conversation to less turbulent waters.

"Indeed, I am not wizard-born." The Chinese boy said, formally. It was perhaps an odd choice of wording, perhaps. But then he did not like the term mudblood that implied his blood was inferior to others, nor the term Muggleborn that implied that his parents were mugs. "Hui Ming, Slytherin First-Year at your service."

A small pause.

"I apologise for prying," The boy said finally, his attention drawn to the older boy's broomstick. The make of the broom was different from the ones that the students had used in their flying class. "But that broom looks rather different from the ones they used in flying classes for the first years.."

Mentioning/Interacting: @Hui Ming
Outfit
Languages: English, German, Japanese

Suzuki was more or less surprised when the guy mentioned he was a muggle-born Slytherin. He wondered how the other Slytherins were treating this kid. Heck, some of the Slytherins treated Suzuki like trash and he wasn't even Muggleborn.

"How're you faring in Slytherin? Everyone treating you fine? Kind of surprising for someone who isn't pureblooded to be in that house. And I'm Kage Suzuki, call me Suzuki."

Suzuki watched the figures in the sky flit around before the boy spoke again, adhering to the new broom he'd received from the Gryffindor team Co-Captain.

"I apologise for prying, but that broom looks rather different from the ones they used in flying classes for the first years.."

" Oh yeah. It's a Silver Arrow, a different model than the old ones the school uses. I received from the Co-Captain not too long ago. Like with cars, there's different models of broomsticks here. You know all the different brands and models of cars? It's like that with broomsticks, kind of. There's the Nimbus series, some of the older versions, and then there's the Firebolt, the best possible broom. It's real expensive though. Around 600 galleons. Imagine having that much money." Suzuki remarked. He didn't know anyone here who owned something as grand as the Firebolt. Most had a Nimbus or a Silver Arrow. The newer players, like Kage, usually used a school broom before receiving a better one from one of the captains.

Interacting: @Kage Suzuki

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A small pause. Hui Ming was torn between standing on his feet and sitting down. On the one hand, it felt borderline disrespectful to keep standing and conversing with a senior who had clearly decided that sitting down on the ground was the thing to do, blatantly disregarding his silent rebuke. On the other hand, he really did not want to sit down.

Oh choices, choices.

Finally, with a small sigh, the Slytherin took to the grass as well, mirroring the senior's posture. He did not know what made him decide on the concession, really. But he found that he did not abhor the senior's company altogether. And perhaps that in itself was worth the courtesy of keeping the Gryffindor company?

"Slytherin has its moments, Suzuki xué zhang*." Ming responded to the earlier concern, thinking firmly of Avery "For all its fearsome reputation, it has its moments. I don't regret that the Hat put me there."

It was a non-answer, Ming had hardly commented on how he was treated. But he had appreciated the question and decided that he liked the Gryffindor. This was how seniors were supposed to be, caring and concerned and patient.

How curious, that Gryffindor had such in spades, when he had met but one Slytherin upper-year who would pass muster. Almost every snake he met had their own agenda, and their own little goals. For all that Ming disapproved of this Gryffindor's dressing and mannerisms, he had to respect the adherence to form on this one aspect. And a proper senior was to be afforded proper respect.

The Chinese boy listening with rapt attention at the description of names, the Muggle comparison, and finally the almost wistful line about the cost. He could honestly say that he had never once thought about money - his parents had provided for him sufficiently before. And here in Hogwarts, well...

"Well, students should not have racing brooms anyway," he told the senior finally, half in disapproval and half to console the elder. "Metal dodgeball fifty meters in the air is dangerous enough without high speeds and sharp turns put into it."

Ming realised his faux pas the moment the words had left his mouth, and so he scrambled into damage control mode.

"U-Unless of course, the danger is the lure to playing?"

OOC: xué zhang = senpai, or senior

Mentioning/Interacting: @Hui Ming
Outfit
Languages: English, German, Japanese

The kid looked confused- like his was trying to decide between two very important things. Then he sat down, looking very uncomfortable and out of place. Jeez, Suzuki thought, where is this guy from anyways??

"For all its fearsome reputation, it has its moments. I don't regret that the Hat put me there." He stated after Suzuki voiced his concern for his being in Slytherin. Not being the sharpest knife in the drawer, he halfheartedly wondered what it has its moments was supposed to mean.

Ming seemed to think for a moment after the statement about the money, which made Suzuki think too. His mother, as a very busy Ministry person, usually provided more than enough to pay for everything the two of them needed. They had a nice house in a nice neighborhood, and Suzuki never had to worry about the contents of his dinner.

Well actually, he did, sometimes, because his mother was never home by dinner, and he didn't honestly feel like going out to get takeout from some Muggle place. Not that Muggle food was bad. It was pretty good. But the lack of Asian- specifically Japanese restaurants in London was a bit disappointing. Alas, only Japan had the good, authentic type of ramen and katsudon Suzuki liked to eat.

But still, money or not, buying a Firebolt was unachievable.

"Well, students should not have racing brooms anyway, metal dodgeball fifty meters in the air is dangerous enough without high speeds and sharp turns put into it, " Ming added flatly, the disapproval sharp in his tone.

" Well... I mean, no one's ever died before, if that helps. I've gotten hit, of course, but I haven't broken any bones. Yet. Plus, there's always a nurse here just in case, and sometimes your teammates will catch you before you splatter all over the ground. Wait, no. You don't splatter. You just land, and it makes a loud thump..." Suzuki trailed off, knowing he'd gone to far. That probably didn't improve Ming's thoughts about Quidditch one bit.

Interacting: @Kage Suzuki

English | Mandarin | French | Quotes

The Chinese boy furrowed his brows, taking in the words from the senior. Bad enough that the line for danger was death, the Chinese boy could not think of what was worse: the flimsy protection of players in this 'sport', or the matter-of-fact way in which they were being listed.

This should not be happening. He should be in a proper school, with sane rules, He should be focusing on trying to push his own boundaries and prove himself a credit to his name. Instead here he was, stuck in a world where he was drowning in all kinds of information and struggling to decide which was deserved a higher priority. A part of him wanted to rage, to bemoan the unfairness of it. A part of him wanted to run back to his dorm and hide in his bed. A part of him wanted to owl his parents, and just be done with this whole farce of a schooling system.

Almost instictively, the first-year looked back up towards the game, in a bid to avoid hving to look at the senior and give his emotions away.

Seconds ticked by, before Ming finally wrestled himself into some semblance of control. For all that he struggled, he giving up was not an option. He could not do that. He would not degrade himself in such a way. He still had his pride, and had decided to hold on to it, even as the last vestiges of sanity dropped around him, like so many leaves come Autumn. But just as backing down was not an option, neither was confrontation: down that path lay a war he could not hope to win. He lacked the ability to drag the magical world to his way of thinking, be it rationally, or kicking and screaming.

All that was left, then, was to protect him and his, as he passed through seven years in this madhouse pretending to be a world.

Unbidden, his eyes lingered on one of the keepers; diving and swerving and amongst the hoops. Ming could not help but imagine that it was his own best friend in the air instead. Boisterous, excitable and friendly, Avery Chen dove into the unknown enough blatant disregard for danger that one mistake him a lion instead of the snake he was in truth.

"Tell me, Suzuki xué zhang." The first-year said to the upper year finally, His eyes were still on the game, but his light tone at odds with his dark thoughts. "You mentioned breaking bones and splattering on the ground just now. Are these common here, in your experience?"

Mentioning/Interacting: @Hui Ming
Outfit
Languages: English, German, Japanese

Several moments passed as the boy thought about (Suzuki assumed) the craziness of everything. Finally, he spoke, in a even flatter, darker tone.

"You mentioned breaking bones and splattering on the ground just now. Are these common here, in your experience?"

To be honest, he broke more bones street fighting back at home than playing Quidditch, which was supposedly a hundred times more dangerous. Pain was just a part of the game. So was splattering.

" Well... I've never actually splattered- I was lucky enough to be caught by a teammate before I fully fell... But I can't say the same for anyone." He thought for a phrase that might improve Ming's thoughts about this sport. " No one's died, and there are rules and regulations preventing deaths. Kind of."

Clearing his throat, he added, " There's dangers for every sport. In baseball, you risk getting your head smashed by a baseball going at 160 kilometers per hour. In football, you could get nailed by the ball and get a serious concussion. Quidditch is only a bit more dangerous since it's in the air. The players are well trained, and they know what they're doing, so it's alright."

He didn't know if that helped, comparing the dangers of the Muggle world to the wizarding world. Suzuki could come up with endless ways to die stupidly. When signing up for the team, he'd never really thought about how dangerous it was. He'd just thought it was fun, so he'd signed up. Suzuki had never really been afraid of riding on a broom, deadly iron balls flying at your noggin, trying to turn you into oatmeal. But then again, he tried to turn other kids into pudding with his fists (and his legs, arguably) back in London for fun.