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*Samia* · 05-12-2026, 09:57 AM

Marina hit the ground from the whistle’s command with visible reluctance, broom dipping low enough that the toes of her boots skimmed the grass before she pulled into a sharp turn with considerably more force than necessary.
The exhilaration from flying still crackled beneath her skin. It always would. Even now. Even with the mess currently living inside her chest like tangled wire. Flying was the only thing lately that still made sense the second her feet left the ground. Up here, there were rules. Momentum. Angles. Instinct. Either you moved or you got hit.

Simple.

Well. Simpler.

She circled lower while Edgar spoke, one hand loose on the broom handle, hair whipping wildly behind her in the wind as her eyes tracked the drifting shimmer zones overhead with sharp focus. Gold still tempted at the edge of her vision, daring and dangerous and fast enough to make her pulse jump. Marina had always loved speed a little too much for her own good.

Then came the team declarations.

Her jaw tightened almost instantly the moment CJ’s voice cut across the pitch.
Orange team. Seeker.

Of course he picked Seeker. Of course he launched himself at the sky like gravity had personally insulted him. And of course he had still somehow found the energy to shout at her mid-flight about the goblet incident like it had been a funny shared memory instead of one of the most humiliating moments of her life.

Marina stared at him for exactly one long second as he vanished upward again in a blur of orange and reckless enthusiasm. Then she deliberately looked away.

“Team Teal,” she called clearly a moment later, voice carrying across the pitch with clipped decisiveness. “Keeper.”

The bib across her chest flickered instantly, teal spreading across the fabric while the symbol of the hoops appeared bright and sharp against it. Marina barely glanced down at it before kicking off hard again.

Opposite team.

Opposite end of the pitch.

Opposite direction entirely.

Good. That felt safer for everybody involved.

She shot upward in a steep curve toward the hoops, weaving through a drifting silver zone that immediately dragged at her movements like flying through syrup. Her correction came instinctively, body adjusting faster than thought as she compensated for the delay and burst back into normal airspace with an impatient exhale.

By the time she reached the goalposts, Marina’s expression had settled into something fiercely concentrated. Different from cheerful. Different from angry too. Focused in the sharp-edged way she only ever became during Quidditch.
One hand tightened around her broom handle as she hovered before the hoops, eyes scanning the pitch below - whatever else was wrong with her lately, whatever ugly restless thing had followed her into third year, it quieted here.

Not gone.

Just… quieter.

And when the Quaffle finally launched into active play beneath the shifting sky, Marina leaned forward on her broom with dangerous intent lighting behind her eyes.

At least this kind of collision she understood.

05-12-2026, 09:57 AM	#16 (permalink)
Samia Granian Join Date: Jun 2006 Location: sappyville♥ Posts: 21,178 Hogwarts RPG Name: Prof. Elara Voss Hufflepuff Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: Marina García Massey Gryffindor Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Adrian García Massey Slytherin Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Lorna Wren Hufflepuff Fifth Year Ministry Department Head: Landon Alfie Renaldi Accidents & Catastrophes x5	TEAL \| Marina sappysapper MAJNOO, YO! Marina hit the ground from the whistle’s command with visible reluctance, broom dipping low enough that the toes of her boots skimmed the grass before she pulled into a sharp turn with considerably more force than necessary. The exhilaration from flying still crackled beneath her skin. It always would. Even now. Even with the mess currently living inside her chest like tangled wire. Flying was the only thing lately that still made sense the second her feet left the ground. Up here, there were rules. Momentum. Angles. Instinct. Either you moved or you got hit. Simple. Well. Simpler. She circled lower while Edgar spoke, one hand loose on the broom handle, hair whipping wildly behind her in the wind as her eyes tracked the drifting shimmer zones overhead with sharp focus. Gold still tempted at the edge of her vision, daring and dangerous and fast enough to make her pulse jump. Marina had always loved speed a little too much for her own good. Then came the team declarations. Her jaw tightened almost instantly the moment CJ’s voice cut across the pitch. Orange team. Seeker. Of course he picked Seeker. Of course he launched himself at the sky like gravity had personally insulted him. And of course he had still somehow found the energy to shout at her mid-flight about the goblet incident like it had been a funny shared memory instead of one of the most humiliating moments of her life. Marina stared at him for exactly one long second as he vanished upward again in a blur of orange and reckless enthusiasm. Then she deliberately looked away. “Team Teal,” she called clearly a moment later, voice carrying across the pitch with clipped decisiveness. “Keeper.” The bib across her chest flickered instantly, teal spreading across the fabric while the symbol of the hoops appeared bright and sharp against it. Marina barely glanced down at it before kicking off hard again. Opposite team. Opposite end of the pitch. Opposite direction entirely. Good. That felt safer for everybody involved. She shot upward in a steep curve toward the hoops, weaving through a drifting silver zone that immediately dragged at her movements like flying through syrup. Her correction came instinctively, body adjusting faster than thought as she compensated for the delay and burst back into normal airspace with an impatient exhale. By the time she reached the goalposts, Marina’s expression had settled into something fiercely concentrated. Different from cheerful. Different from angry too. Focused in the sharp-edged way she only ever became during Quidditch. One hand tightened around her broom handle as she hovered before the hoops, eyes scanning the pitch below - whatever else was wrong with her lately, whatever ugly restless thing had followed her into third year, it quieted here. Not gone. Just… quieter. And when the Quaffle finally launched into active play beneath the shifting sky, Marina leaned forward on her broom with dangerous intent lighting behind her eyes. At least this kind of collision she understood. __________________ ......................let's be reckless, unaffected, running out until we're breathless ...............let's be hopeful, don't get broken, and stay caught up in the moment ♥