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sweetpinkpixie · 05-11-2026, 03:02 AM

Levi's comment earned the faintest twitch at the corner of Calliope's mouth as she straightened from another squat, one hand briefly braced against her thigh while she caught a steady breath and really gave in to the stretch. At the mention of last year's advice, though, well… compliments were a currency with the fifth year. She rolled one shoulder back before reaching down to adjust the cuff of one sock.

"Obviously it was," she replied with easy confidence, flipping her braid back over her shoulder so it fell between her shoulder blades. Her advice was always solid. She should probably start charging for it. Something she would keep in mind when that one little Ravenclaw shadow came asking her about skin care regimens and hair routines again.

One Hufflepuff that was teetering towards being moderately tolerable in her book.

Calliope had been stretching her hamstrings beside her broom when Cloggs' voice cut through the morning air again. For a dead person, he was rather exhausting… or maybe she just needed to finally add ghosts to the list of hard no’s along with any pretty much every animal, beast, and creature.

But publicly threatening peers and potential teammates? Her eyes narrowed faintly as she straightened from her stretch and tried not to cut the Flying Instructor too much of a glare. Bit dramatic wording, wasn't it? She had hardly threatened anyone and had just stated objective facts about standards.

She brushed the ~~constructive~~ criticism aside thanks to the compliment about her footwork.

Her fingers closed around the polished handle of her broom the instant permission was given, irritation from earlier evaporating almost immediately beneath the familiar comfort of wood fitting against her palm. Better. The rigidness in her shoulders loosened as she stepped forward and mounted in one fluid motion, kicking lightly off the ground.

Low altitude. Right. Borning but…whatever.

Still, Calliope and hovered only a few feet above the grass as instructed, toes skimming dangerously close to the tops of the blades whenever she dipped lower during flight to the other side in a lazy wave-like movement. It was almost insulting how slow this pace felt and it was obvious impatience simmered beneath the surface, fingers flexing slightly against the broom handle while she physically resisted the urge to shoot upward and actually fly.

●—————◦◉◦—————●

CJ looked down at himself the moment Mr. Quidditch Ghost pointed it out and barked out a laugh loud enough to carry across the ~~field~~ pitch.

"Ahhh, man," he wheezed through a grin, immediately crouching to fix the lace before he ate it in front of everyone ― a spectacle he had, so far, managed to avoid. "Respectfully, sir, I think I control my broom better than I do my feet."

Hey-OH!

Still chuckling to himself, CJ tugged the bib around the correct way at last, flattening it against his chest with a quick pat and the little size tag vanished from public view at long last. Then, because his brain operated on a soundtrack during these moments, he slipped right back into singing while stretching his shoulders loose.

"Ain’t no river wiiiiide enough…"

One final arm stretch, a quick bounce on his heels and then—

BROOMS.

The Gryffindor's entire face lit up with such immediate, unfiltered excitement it was honestly a wonder he didn’t start vibrating out of his own skin.

"Ohhhh, SAY less, Mr. Ghost," he cheered, rubbing his hands together while making a beeline for the broom racks where he had left his broom earlier.

The second his hand wrapped around the broom handle, something in him visibly settled into place. Like muscle memory clicked in where the chaos usually lived. His grip adjusted automatically, posture changing as naturally as breathing while he swung one leg over the broom. The urge to immediately blast into the stratosphere was so real and visibly took effort to suppress. His shoulders bunched with restraint for a moment before he forced himself to hunker low over the broom instead, chest closer to the handle in the unmistakable posture of a seeker preparing for a dive.

Warm-ups. Right. Leisurely. Tooooooootally leisurely.

CJ kicked off the ground and skimmed low over the pitch, toes brushing dangerously close to the grass exactly as instructed. The first stretch across the field was calm and almost lazy ― just give him a pillow and maybe he could take a nap. But then he crossed the center circle and the acceleration was immediate. His broom surged forward beneath him with a sharp burst of speed, wind tore through his chocolate curls while he shot across the pitch low enough for the tips of grass to flick against the soles of his sneakers.

"WHOOOO—!"

At the far end, CJ leaned hard into the turn and whipped around so sharply ― on DIME. SORRY, a KNUT, or a POUND, or whatever was said here ― he was certain he had violated at least one law of physics as he rocketed back the opposite direction.

But also, real talk? British grass against his sneakers was kind of its own brand of awesome.

Which was exactly why, after finishing the first go, CJ immediately looped around and did another. The third year zipped past at considerably more speed than was really necessary for warm-ups before banking abruptly sideways in a smooth little curve that brought him gliding alongside the younger girl ― and his housemate! ― at a much more reasonable pace.

"Hey, nice recovery!" he called over with an easy grin, one hand briefly lifting from the broom handle to give her a big thumbs up. "That first almost-fall's basically a rite of passage." His toes skimmed the grass again as he matched her speed for a few seconds, posture relaxed and completely at home in the air in a way he definitely wasn't on solid ground. "Low altitude's honestly harder anyway," he added. "Less room for recoveries. You’re doing awesome, Rookie."

And then, flashing her one last bright, encouraging smile, CJ leaned forward over his broom and shot off again in a burst of speed like a golden retriever that had briefly paused mid-zoomies to hype someone up.

05-11-2026, 03:02 AM	#9 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,466 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	CJ @ Tiana :3 astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Levi's comment earned the faintest twitch at the corner of Calliope's mouth as she straightened from another squat, one hand briefly braced against her thigh while she caught a steady breath and really gave in to the stretch. At the mention of last year's advice, though, well… compliments were a currency with the fifth year. She rolled one shoulder back before reaching down to adjust the cuff of one sock. "Obviously it was," she replied with easy confidence, flipping her braid back over her shoulder so it fell between her shoulder blades. Her advice was always solid. She should probably start charging for it. Something she would keep in mind when that one little Ravenclaw shadow came asking her about skin care regimens and hair routines again. One Hufflepuff that was teetering towards being moderately tolerable in her book. Calliope had been stretching her hamstrings beside her broom when Cloggs' voice cut through the morning air again. For a dead person, he was rather exhausting… or maybe she just needed to finally add ghosts to the list of hard no’s along with any pretty much every animal, beast, and creature. But publicly threatening peers and potential teammates? Her eyes narrowed faintly as she straightened from her stretch and tried not to cut the Flying Instructor too much of a glare. Bit dramatic wording, wasn't it? She had hardly threatened anyone and had just stated objective facts about standards. She brushed the ~~constructive~~ criticism aside thanks to the compliment about her footwork. Her fingers closed around the polished handle of her broom the instant permission was given, irritation from earlier evaporating almost immediately beneath the familiar comfort of wood fitting against her palm. Better. The rigidness in her shoulders loosened as she stepped forward and mounted in one fluid motion, kicking lightly off the ground. Low altitude. Right. Borning but…whatever. Still, Calliope and hovered only a few feet above the grass as instructed, toes skimming dangerously close to the tops of the blades whenever she dipped lower during flight to the other side in a lazy wave-like movement. It was almost insulting how slow this pace felt and it was obvious impatience simmered beneath the surface, fingers flexing slightly against the broom handle while she physically resisted the urge to shoot upward and actually fly. ●—————◦◉◦—————● CJ looked down at himself the moment Mr. Quidditch Ghost pointed it out and barked out a laugh loud enough to carry across the ~~field~~ pitch. "Ahhh, man," he wheezed through a grin, immediately crouching to fix the lace before he ate it in front of everyone ― a spectacle he had, so far, managed to avoid. "Respectfully, sir, I think I control my broom better than I do my feet." Hey-OH! Still chuckling to himself, CJ tugged the bib around the correct way at last, flattening it against his chest with a quick pat and the little size tag vanished from public view at long last. Then, because his brain operated on a soundtrack during these moments, he slipped right back into singing while stretching his shoulders loose. "Ain’t no river wiiiiide enough…" One final arm stretch, a quick bounce on his heels and then— BROOMS. The Gryffindor's entire face lit up with such immediate, unfiltered excitement it was honestly a wonder he didn’t start vibrating out of his own skin. "Ohhhh, SAY less, Mr. Ghost," he cheered, rubbing his hands together while making a beeline for the broom racks where he had left his broom earlier. The second his hand wrapped around the broom handle, something in him visibly settled into place. Like muscle memory clicked in where the chaos usually lived. His grip adjusted automatically, posture changing as naturally as breathing while he swung one leg over the broom. The urge to immediately blast into the stratosphere was so real and visibly took effort to suppress. His shoulders bunched with restraint for a moment before he forced himself to hunker low over the broom instead, chest closer to the handle in the unmistakable posture of a seeker preparing for a dive. Warm-ups. Right. Leisurely. Tooooooootally leisurely. CJ kicked off the ground and skimmed low over the pitch, toes brushing dangerously close to the grass exactly as instructed. The first stretch across the field was calm and almost lazy ― just give him a pillow and maybe he could take a nap. But then he crossed the center circle and the acceleration was immediate. His broom surged forward beneath him with a sharp burst of speed, wind tore through his chocolate curls while he shot across the pitch low enough for the tips of grass to flick against the soles of his sneakers. "WHOOOO—!" At the far end, CJ leaned hard into the turn and whipped around so sharply ― on DIME. SORRY, a KNUT, or a POUND, or whatever was said here ― he was certain he had violated at least one law of physics as he rocketed back the opposite direction. But also, real talk? British grass against his sneakers was kind of its own brand of awesome. Which was exactly why, after finishing the first go, CJ immediately looped around and did another. The third year zipped past at considerably more speed than was really necessary for warm-ups before banking abruptly sideways in a smooth little curve that brought him gliding alongside the younger girl ― and his housemate! ― at a much more reasonable pace. "Hey, nice recovery!" he called over with an easy grin, one hand briefly lifting from the broom handle to give her a big thumbs up. "That first almost-fall's basically a rite of passage." His toes skimmed the grass again as he matched her speed for a few seconds, posture relaxed and completely at home in the air in a way he definitely wasn't on solid ground. "Low altitude's honestly harder anyway," he added. "Less room for recoveries. You’re doing awesome, Rookie." And then, flashing her one last bright, encouraging smile, CJ leaned forward over his broom and shot off again in a burst of speed like a golden retriever that had briefly paused mid-zoomies to hype someone up. __________________ 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