MENTIONS. @None	.INTERACTIONS @Akerrah Koné
WORD COUNT. 256/200 PLACE. Beauxbatons Quidditch Pitch	.TIME Afternoon, a few days after quidditch tryouts ig? .DIALOGUE #660000 .THOUGHTS Italics

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Margaux hadn't expected to play for the Beauxbatons quidditch team, in fact, she actually dreaded it. She only entered the tryouts to see if she can surprise herself, which she actually did, never ever expected to do it actually.

As a muggle-born, Quidditch isn't exactly common knowledge for them, it was most likely foreign. Margaux had spent the morning trying to find books about Quidditch, trying to see if she could actually understand it before attempting to fly it.

She carried a whole lot of books to the Quidditch Pitch, no one was practicing still, Quidditch season hadn't even started yet. She found a comfortable spot on the top bench, sunlight was basking the wooden plank under it's warm endure.

It was a warm Friday afternoon, the sky was a clear shade of turquoise, the clouds were nowhere to be seen and the sun glowed with pride and radiance as it dominated and enlightened the green lands of France. Margaux was wearing a white, cable-knit polo shirt, a black, A-line mini skirt, a pearl necklace and a black and white Adidas Samba OG, something she'd usually wear for gold, though she never really liked it, always thought that it was such a waste of time, watching men in polos and wearing stupid little hats, whatever they were called, swinging clubs at balls and trying to see if they can shoot it in a tiny little hole about 150 yards away, Basketball was always much more sensible, at least people actually get fit and active.

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NOTES:

Reducio

Fit:

There were not many faces Akerrah knew at Beauxbatons—or even at her old public (muggle) school. Faces seemed to pass her right by and not pay her very much attention. Her quiet nature did not help things, but she was not blind to the fact that her speech, her coloring, and her lack of all the same things the other had probably did not help either. It made things rough at school.

But now that she was, somehow, on this team for this sport she didn't understand, she did have a handful of faces she did recognize, even if she'd never really spoken to them. Today, out on the pitch, she saw one of those faces: a first year who'd also been committed to the team. Marguerite or Malarie or something like it.

Gingerly, she approached the girl and her pile of books. Craning her head slightly as her black hair hung at her shoulders, she tried to read the spines. They very much seemed to be about this whole Quidditch thing. "Excuse moi," she announced herself as she approached the bench, "Are you...researching the game?" That seemed like a polite way to put it. Though to be honest if she were an obsessive strategist, that would be great, and if she were a similarly lost soul, maybe that would be comforting in a different way.

"You got Chaser, oui?" she asked, trying to confirm that this girl did in fact match one of the faces from the team. "I'm Seeker, which apparently means I'm going to end up in the hospital quite often." She tried to laugh, but it was more nervousness than anything else. Boy, coming to a magic school really did seem like a bad idea.

@Margaux Lucosthe