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sweetpinkpixie · 05-10-2026, 12:56 AM

Calliope heard the rapid succession of feet pounding the ground before she looked over, pace never faltering as the Hufflepuff fell into stride beside her.

"Mm. Guess I've got a warm-up partner now," she replied between breaths, side-eyeing him briefly before transitioning into low squat shuffles to really activate her quads.

Not exactly the partner she would've chosen ― certain redhead would've made things significantly more interesting ― but this did make it easier to focus on tryouts with zero distractions..

"You too," she added after a beat, the competitiveness in her tone softened just enough to sound genuine rather than threatening for once. Growth? Some of us like to think so.

Calliope’s brows lifted slightly the other bloke, somewhere between amused and incredulous. "Hi," she replied dryly. "If we're 'having fun together,' try to keep up, yeah? I hate lapping people before drills even start." Was the comment directed at her? No, but the point still stood regardless.

By the time they reached the starting point of the pitch again, Calliope peeled away smoothly toward the racks without slowing much, reclaiming her broom almost immediately. Her fingers curled around the handle with familiar ease before she planted one foot against the broom head and folded into a stretch, shoulders rolling loose afterward while her braid slid forward over one shoulder.

●—————◦◉◦—————●

CJ had arrived at the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand, with exactly the kind of energy one would expect from someone who had slept through two alarms, inhaled half a piece of toast while running out the door, and still somehow made it on time.

Barely.

And his shoelace was untied.

And the white training bib he had enthusiastically yanked from the crate was, unfortunately, very backwards. CJ glanced down at his bib once during the instructions, frowned briefly like something about it felt… spiritually incorrect, and then immediately decided it was probably fine.

Spoiler: it was not fine.

Still, he puffed his chest out slightly when Cloggs complimented some of them, the jab zipping right over his head like a dodged bludger. He was also a bit distracted by the fact that a ghost was running tryouts.

"Oh, SICK," he whispered under his breath, to the person standing nearest to him ― he didn't know a whole lot of names yet and the ones he thought he knew he apparently didn't, go figure. "He's, like… aggressively dead."

The third year was also a bit too ferreting, craning his neck up at the towering stands with the bright-eyed wonder of someone trying veeeeeeery hard to play it cool while internally losing his mind. A little outwardly as well ― he did wear his heart on his sleeve. He whistled under his breath while Cloggs went on about something or another, warm hazel eyes drinking everything in that he could about his first time on a real OG quidditch pitch ― minus the professional matches he had been taken to during the summer, that is.

This was awesome. Different from Ilvermorny's pitch and bigger somehow... or maybe that was just because the vibe was so new.

The Gryffindor bounced lightly on the balls of his feet immediately when given the green light to start warming up, energy returning full force now that movement was involved. Athletics had always made more sense to him than standing still ever had.

Jogging? Easy. High knees? Let’s go. Heel kicks? Beautiful. Side shuffling? Slightly less beautiful but still survivable. At least they hadn't been asked to do the grapevine.

He took off across the pitch with lanky enthusiasm and approximately twenty percent too much momentum, knees driving high as instructed. At one point during side shuffles, he caught himself nearly crossing his feet, windmilled both arms to recover balance and looked briefly proud of himself for it.

By the time he looped back toward the group, slightly flushed and breathing harder but visibly thriving, the bib still very much backwards with its little size tag flapping worthlessly in the wind against his chest.

CJ planted his feet shoulder width apart and immediately launched into standing stretches. Arms extended overhead first, fingers lacing together as he stretched upward onto the balls of his feet with an exaggerated groan that was at least 30% performance and 80% relief because he had definitely slept funny last night.

"Ain't no mountain hiiiiigh enough," he sang quietly under his breath while leaning into a side stretch, voice still roughened from the jog but not half bad actually. He always had decent pitch. "Ain’t no valley low enouuuughhh…" One arm crossed over his chest next, then the other, shoulders rolling loose afterward while he hummed the rest of the tune to himself, wiggling and rolling his hips while he did.

05-10-2026, 12:56 AM	#5 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,426 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin Fifth Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Calliope heard the rapid succession of feet pounding the ground before she looked over, pace never faltering as the Hufflepuff fell into stride beside her. "Mm. Guess I've got a warm-up partner now," she replied between breaths, side-eyeing him briefly before transitioning into low squat shuffles to really activate her quads. Not exactly the partner she would've chosen ― certain redhead would've made things significantly more interesting ― but this did make it easier to focus on tryouts with zero distractions.. "You too," she added after a beat, the competitiveness in her tone softened just enough to sound genuine rather than threatening for once. Growth? Some of us like to think so. Calliope’s brows lifted slightly the other bloke, somewhere between amused and incredulous. "Hi," she replied dryly. "*If we're 'having fun together,' try to keep up, yeah? I hate lapping people before drills even start." Was the comment directed at her? No, but the point still stood regardless. By the time they reached the starting point of the pitch again, Calliope peeled away smoothly toward the racks without slowing much, reclaiming her broom almost immediately. Her fingers curled around the handle with familiar ease before she planted one foot against the broom head and folded into a stretch, shoulders rolling loose afterward while her braid slid forward over one shoulder. ●—————◦◉◦—————● CJ had arrived at the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand, with exactly the kind of energy one would expect from someone who had slept through two alarms, inhaled half a piece of toast while running out the door, and still somehow made it on time. Barely.* And his shoelace was untied. And the white training bib he had enthusiastically yanked from the crate was, unfortunately, very backwards. CJ glanced down at his bib once during the instructions, frowned briefly like something about it felt… spiritually incorrect, and then immediately decided it was probably fine. Spoiler: it was not fine. Still, he puffed his chest out slightly when Cloggs complimented some of them, the jab zipping right over his head like a dodged bludger. He was also a bit distracted by the fact that a ghost was running tryouts. "Oh, SICK," he whispered under his breath, to the person standing nearest to him ― he didn't know a whole lot of names yet and the ones he thought he knew he apparently didn't, go figure. "He's, like… aggressively dead." The third year was also a bit too ferreting, craning his neck up at the towering stands with the bright-eyed wonder of someone trying veeeeeeery hard to play it cool while internally losing his mind. A little outwardly as well ― he did wear his heart on his sleeve. He whistled under his breath while Cloggs went on about something or another, warm hazel eyes drinking everything in that he could about his first time on a real OG quidditch pitch ― minus the professional matches he had been taken to during the summer, that is. This was awesome. Different from Ilvermorny's pitch and bigger somehow... or maybe that was just because the vibe was so new. The Gryffindor bounced lightly on the balls of his feet immediately when given the green light to start warming up, energy returning full force now that movement was involved. Athletics had always made more sense to him than standing still ever had. Jogging? Easy. High knees? Let’s go. Heel kicks? Beautiful. Side shuffling? Slightly less beautiful but still survivable. At least they hadn't been asked to do the grapevine. He took off across the pitch with lanky enthusiasm and approximately twenty percent too much momentum, knees driving high as instructed. At one point during side shuffles, he caught himself nearly crossing his feet, windmilled both arms to recover balance and looked briefly proud of himself for it. By the time he looped back toward the group, slightly flushed and breathing harder but visibly thriving, the bib still very much backwards with its little size tag flapping worthlessly in the wind against his chest. CJ planted his feet shoulder width apart and immediately launched into standing stretches. Arms extended overhead first, fingers lacing together as he stretched upward onto the balls of his feet with an exaggerated groan that was at least 30% performance and 80% relief because he had definitely slept funny last night. "Ain't no mountain hiiiiigh enough," he sang quietly under his breath while leaning into a side stretch, voice still roughened from the jog but not half bad actually. He always had decent pitch. "Ain’t no valley low enouuuughhh…" One arm crossed over his chest next, then the other, shoulders rolling loose afterward while he hummed the rest of the tune to himself, wiggling and rolling his hips while he did. __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like