 Ariel Scamander [TEAM ORANGE] Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
She had not been late. She had not almost been late. She had definitely not arrived at a jog with her hair windswept in a way that suggested a mild sprint across the grounds. Her appearance was the sign of dramatic athleticism, obviously.
The warm-ups had been survivable, the low-altitude flying only mildly insulting, and the fast and inverted zones had been brilliant. Ariel had nearly flown herself into disaster the first time she hit the bronze zone and suddenly found up becoming down. However, that didn't stop her from doubling back after the initial oh-Merlin-what-is-happening moment and did it again because, apparently, self-preservation occasionally took a holiday.
By the time Edgar Cloggs called everyone in for scrimmage play, Ariel looked practically incandescent with excitement, fingers drumming lightly against her broom handle while she hovered.
"Orange team!" she called immediately, shifting on her broom with a bright grin already spreading across her face. "Chaser!"
The bib across her chest flickered obediently, orange bleeding across the fabric as the Quaffle symbol appeared.
The second they were released again, Ariel shot upward with considerably more enthusiasm than restraint, weaving between pockets of normal airspace and drifting shimmer zones as her eyes tracked the pitch below. And then—
Calliope had the Quaffle.
Ariel's eyes followed almost instinctively as the Slytherin cut through the air with that smooth confidence she always seemed to have on a broom. The dark braid streaming behind her, the immediate energy she'd thrown herself into the play with...
Not that Ariel was staring. She was merely observing, which was a very different thing indeed.
The corner of her mouth lifted faintly before she caught herself and shook her head once, snapping her attention back toward the play as Calliope entered the silver zone. The glacial pace at which she was moving was going to live in the ginger's head for a while.
Unfortunately for Ariel, Quidditch had the audacity to continue happening and her attention jerked sharply toward the red blur of the Quaffle tearing wildly off-course after Viano's throw launched itself through the fast zone and was snatched by Forsfelle.
"Oh, absolutely not," she muttered to herself before tipping forward hard on her broom and, after dodging a bludger, giving chase with hopes of intercepting before it came down to Singh-Phora to stop a goal from being made.
Wind whipped through her hair as she accelerated. Ariel immediately made a face, her fingers stretched outward while she leaned dangerously sideways over the broom handle, determination present in her expression.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon—"
Whether she grabbed hold of the Quaffle or missed by inches remained to be seen. But Ariel, nevertheless, looked like she was having the time of her life either way.
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