Brooks caught the flash of red as Lovelace got the quaffle from Dawn and made a break towards their end of the pitch.
A grin spread across his face. "There we go!"
That was exactly what the Basilisks needed. Open air and a fast broom. His eyes flicked toward the Acromantulas' hoops before immediately finding Lovelace again. Conor was already closing on her, Serik hovering nearby like an shadow.
Which left Brooks. Morgan was still there, glued to his side. He laughed under his breath, “Persistent. I like it! Come on baby, whatcha got?”
Instead of trying to outrun her, which with her speed would be difficult, Brooks changed his plans completly. If Morgan wanted to spend the match making sure he never touched the Quaffle, then she would be getting dizzy while he switched directions. He might not be able to beat her with speed, but out manuevering her was in his wheelhouse.
“Lets do this.” He said, under his breath.
Brooks dipped his shoulder toward the outside lane like he was going to break wide for a pass. At the last second he moved his weight over the broom and cut sharply back across Morgan's nose toward the center of the pitch.
Brooks attempted to fake Morgan toward the outside before cutting back into open space, trying to give Lovelace a clear passing lane.
It was a thing of real beauty. Coming off the first bludger going askew, Rae couldn't help the swell of pride at watching the second connect squarely with the opposing team's chaser. And why shouldn't it? It had been ages since she'd really gotten to enjoy a game and ages since her aim had really had to matter. Unlike Benji, who'd kept up a better workout routine, the Slytherin had let herself be consumed by less physically demanding endeavours. For the most part. She hadn't let herself get weak per se, and she'd joined her boyfriend a time or two when he was practising his beating, but she wouldn't consider herself at the top of her form.
In her seventh year, she didn't think it mattered so much to be either. She was on her way – hopefully – to the collegium. Her days would be filled with lectures and hospital rounds, observations and medical potioneering. The window of time in which her skills as a beater should matter was already largely behind her.
And yet...
There was something that remained satisfying about a bludger she hit, connecting with its target. That was made even sweeter by the fact it was Tulip's bludger. Not because she had anything against the Gryffindor but because getting in the way of another beater's swing came with its own validation.
No time to rest on her laurels, though. The game was still young, and helping to knock a quaffle out of a chaser's hand was only a portion of much larger work that needed to be done.
Lovelace nabbed herself the quaffle and could earn them the first points of the match. Until she did, it was her job to be on the alert.
Rather than chase a long-gone bludger, Rae twisted on her broom to face the one Benji had shot by Maevie. It was already heading her way, making it the only one she was interested in. She let it zoom close, timing it just right before swinging in an attempt to send it down the pitch toward the Acromantula keeper. Might as well try to make things easier.
Maevie’s eyes strained as she tried and failed to find another glimmer of gold. The wooden beams remained as boring and empty as they always were, and a low sigh of disappointment escaped through her nose.
Well, she supposed that would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? However heroic and epic finishing a game after ten minutes might have been, Maevie thought she’d rather enjoy her first match a little longer than that. Still, the pressure remained. After another few moments of hopeful searching, Maevie finally gave up and turned to look back out over the field.
Her eyes went wide. A Bludger was barreling her way.
The air caught in her throat, and Maevie froze. But before she had the chance to try and make a decision, Reyna was already swooping in. Her bat connected with the Bludger and sent it hurling back towards the other players. Only, on closer inspection, it hadn’t actually been coming all that close.
Maevie didn’t bother finding out where Reyna had sent the thing. The brief shock and the lingering effects were too overwhelming to care.
Damn Bludgers.
But damn her too.
She had to stop being so scared. The next one might not miss her by such a wide margin, and freezing in place then really couldn’t end well. She’d gotten lucky this time.
Her heart still fluttering faintly, Maevie swerved away from the scaffolding and climbed higher into the air above the game, resuming her circling. Dawn seemed to have lost the Quaffle. Maevie only briefly caught sight of the blur rushing towards their own hoops, the red leather ball tugged against the player’s side.
Again, Maevie forced herself to ignore the action.
She let her eyes trace the skies once more as she slowly drifted overhead. For a split second, her gaze darted towards Mohler. Was he still just…there? It was strange. Strange enough to make her wonder whether she was the one doing something wrong, but Maevie quickly dismissed the thought.
That hardly made sense.
Ignoring him too, Maevie tried to find another sign of the Snitch.
Well, shit.
He was obviously a bit rusty coming back into the first game in years, so who could blame him if his shots weren't as good as they had been before? He told himself when he could flesh out the time, he'd force himself into extra practices. Between studying for his NEWTs and...other activities...he hadn't exactly prioritized Quidditch, and it was beginning to show.
No matter. The first game hardly mattered anyway, but if Maevie turned out to be the kind of seeker he knew she could be, his team might be in trouble. A few shouts caught his attention; their team had the quaffle. The boy hovered a moment, hazel eyes darting back and forth across the pitch, calculating the bludgers and where every player was. Rae had the keeper covered, but a second attack wouldn't hurt.
If anything, it might make Blackwood panic, which was just as effective as an actual hit. The diversion would be enough to let Lovelace make the shot.
"Right behind you, devil," Benji called out to his girlfriend, his bat meeting the second bludger, sending it towards the Acromantula keeper.
Worse came to worse, at least the two of them had kept their opposition on the defense.
addicted to those glances, taking chances tonight
i need a fix in those heroin eyes
She saw his shoulder dip towards the outside lane.
Morgan had a split second to decide if she believed it. Or if she followed suit. She knew how Rook flew, had spent plenty of early mornings training with him to know his tells. Or she thought she did. The shoulder said outside.
She made the call.
“Oh, you absolute –” the wind picked up and carried away the rest of her cursing.
“Persistent. I like it! Come on baby, whatcha got?”
Morgan had half a mind to tell him off after the match was over. It would likely happen. In detail. And at length. But that was a problem for later because right now, Lovelace had the Quaffle and was making for the Acromantulas hoops with the nervous energy of someone who had talked themselves into something they weren’t entirely sure about.
That was not happening.
Morgan pulled up hard, out of the wide lane, reorienting fast, her eyes finding Lovelace immediately. Rook had his passing lane (she’d given it to him, which was a sentence she’d think about for days) but Lovelace wasn’t using it. It looked like she was going for the hoops herself.
Morgan’s jaw set.
She recovered and drove hard after Lovelace, attempting to close the distance between them.
She smirked, while continuing to fly as fast as she could. “Lovelace! Don’t look back!” she shouted.
Swoosh! The bludger sailed right past Brooks, and went squeaking away, like it had some personal vendetta against its Beater. Knowing the bloody unpredictable buggers, it probably did.
"Oh, for the love of--" Reyna twisted her body and rocketed towards the others. A string of colorful curses followed in her wake, mostly in Tagalog, since there were children present. Mostly. She had to up her game, for real this time. Sure, there was still time left on the clock, but Reyna had to have some sort of offensive strategy.
Otherwise, no one here would take her seriously!
Maybe it was the increased oxygen from the speed and the wind whipping at her face, but Reyna's brain worked lightning fast. The two bludgers were screaming towards Elowen, so there were only seconds left to act.
Reyna raised her arm, and aimed for one of the bludgers. Her target? None other than dear Lovelace, who was too trained on the rings to notice the looming sisterly betrayal. Reyna grit her teeth as she angled her bat. All bets were off the table, now. Hopefully Lovelace wouldn't be too cross or anything.
All's fair in love and quidditch, right? Reyna knew that her sister, the little grub, would have no qualms about knocking her off of her own broom.
i'm talking myself out of my own happiness
I'LL MAKE IT UP 'TIL I QUIT
Round Three Results
A fumble, a fake, and a Keeper caught in the crossfire!
Brooks’ Fake
Brooks: 10 (success) / Morgan: 18 (fail)
Brooks sells the fake perfectly, dipping his shoulder just enough to convince Morgan he’s breaking wide before cutting back hard toward the center; she bites completely, and he’s left with a clean passing lane nobody’s using yet. Still reeling from the misdirection, Morgan can’t recover fast enough to close the gap on Lovelace either, left trailing behind as the Basilisks push forward.
Lovelace’s Grip
Lovelace: 14 (fail)
Lovelace’s nerves finally catch up with her; her grip slips on the Quaffle’s worn leather at the worst possible moment. She manages to hold on, barely, but the bobble costs her precious seconds and very nearly sends it spinning loose, right into the lane Brooks had just cleared.
The Bludgers Converge
Ruth: 9 (success) / Benji: 5 (success) / Reyna: 19 (fail, intercept) / Elowen: 18, 15 (hit, hit)
Both Bludgers close in on Elowen from opposite angles at nearly the same moment. Reyna sees it coming and throws herself into the gap, bat raised, but she’s a fraction of a moment too slow to redirect either one. The first connects, then the second, catching Elowen twice in quick succession before she has any real chance to recover between hits.
Maevie’s Search
Maevie: 6 (success)
This time, it pays off! A clear line of sight on the Snitch, hovering near the base of the northern stands, long enough for Maevie to actually orient herself toward it before it has the chance to dart away again.
Elsewhere on the Pitch
Serik stays close to Lovelace’s side even as she fumbles, doing what he can to shield her from the incoming press. Conor, closing fast, suddenly finds himself with a real opening to make a play. Robert continues his one-man commentary from the Basilisks’ end, still with nothing to actually defend.
Round Four
Lovelace holds onto the Quaffle, shaken but still in possession, with Conor now closing in fast after her stumble. Brooks still has that open lane, unused so far. Morgan remains a step behind, not yet back in striking distance. Elowen is reeling after taking two hits in a row, leaving her in a state of both wanting to cry but also refusing to cry. Maevie finally has a real lead on the Snitch to chase.
OOC:
I will update again at about this time on 23 September.
She was rusty. Tulip was incredibly rusty and it has just showed. She had totally missed even seeing any of the bludgers everyone else was all over them. This would not and could not do. "Have a word with yourself Tulip" she muttered. She scanned the pitch looking for what she needed. She needed to spot the bludger, "This is why this should not have lost quidditch, you've made us all rusty" she said glaring at the castle and whoever was in charge this week.
Looking at the game below she wasn't the only rusty one. The chasers on both sides couldn't find a goal with a flash light and a guide dog. "Find the goal will you" she yelled at Dawn and Connor "Barlow is doing all the work, bloody help her or you may as well join the other team." Someone had to score.
It was a dammed shame they couldn't have house teams that little Lovelace was a decent chaser especially for a first year. She was sure there was some stupid reason for not having house teams. Knowing this place Tulip thought it's because there are staff who are off to murder people, or a yeti, it could be anything. At least it was back before she left school forever.
She needed a plan, as good as Lovelace was Tulip didn't want her scoring, she must be stopped no matter that cost. Tulip saw her opening. She lined up with the bludger coming close to Lovelace she was less than 10 foot in front of her, and at the speed they were flying that wasn't alot. Tulip swung her bat at the bludger aiming to hit the incoming Lovelace, hoping the bludger would hit her if that failed she'd still crash into Tulip
Morgan cursed under her breath, glaring at her boyfriend who had successfully faked her out. She knew him better than he knew himself, or so she’d told herself, but clearly he had… well, it was a mess!
She knew she was a step behind and had to catch up at this point. She had no choice.
Morgan pulled hard out of the wide lane, jaw tight, already running the math in her head. She’d seen Lovelace nearly fumble the Quaffle, but she still had it. Conor was closing in, chasing the girl down in case she managed to drop the ball. Brooks was open and ready for a pass. And Morgan knew that if the girl was wanting to really get rid of the Quaffle, she’d give it to Brooks.
So Morgan stopped chasing the play and started getting ahead of it.
She knew where he was going to be before he got there. Morgan had learned that lesson the hard way approximately thirty seconds ago and she wasn’t interested in learning it twice.
Morgan dove hard across the pitch, attempting to cut off the passing lane between Lovelace and Rook before it could be used.
Her eyes found Brooks across the pitch. She raised her eyebrows at him, a smirk on her face.
“Not this time, Squid Brain.”
The unmistakable sound of Bludger connecting with a player drew Maevie’s attention before she could stop it. Another hit followed less than a second later. A grimace twisted her face. Maevie watched Elowen take both Bludgers in quick succession, leaving the Keeper reeling, and Maevie's stomach squeezed uncomfortably.
That looked like it hurt.
Obviously.
Her first instinct was to fly over and check on her teammate, but Maevie stopped herself. Elowen wasn’t going down, at least not immediately, and she’d probably give Maevie a mouthful if she began fussing over her in the middle of the action. Besides, this was the game, right? The risk? They had their own set of Beaters, but they couldn’t always be there in time.
Hopefully Elowen could recover before the Basilisks got a chance at the hoops, though.
Maevie felt bad for that thought in the same beat.
Before she could get too entangled in her own conflicting feelings of sympathy and competitiveness, Maevie forced her attention back to her own job. The Snitch that she still hadn’t the faintest clue where to find. She abandoned the Chaser-Quaffle action and resumed her search.
There.
Maevie shot forward and dove down the moment her brain registered the glimmer of gold. Cold wind nipped at her cheeks and nose, ripping at the loose strands of hair around her face. It rushed in her ears, loud enough to drown out the chanting crowd, the beat of her heart like a drum in her head. Maevie kept her eyes fixed on the tiny fleck hovering by the northern stands, not daring to blink.
Pressed to the handle of her broom, she barreled towards the Snitch, trying to get close enough to reach for it.
Brooks watched Morgan break away from him, cutting across the pitch toward the passing lane he'd worked to create. His grin widened. He loved playing quidditch, but playing with Morgan made it SO much better.
She wasn't chasing him anymore. She was trying to figure out where he would be instead. Smart girl.
For just a heartbeat, Brooks considered staying in the space he had worked to make, but Morgan was already working to erase it. That lane was gone. Staying there would only make her right.
Years of flying had taught him one simple lesson: a Chaser waiting for the Quaffle was an easy Chaser to defend. So he kept moving.
“Not this time, Squid Brain.” He was laughing as he raced through the air, curving and moving, never making it easy to follow.
Brooks let the wind carry him a few extra yards before banking behind Conor's pursuit. Every second he stayed in motion forced Morgan to recalculate. Every change in angle gave Lovelace another option.
He trusted she'd look up. He just needed to make sure there was something to see when she did.
Brooks curved wide behind Conor's, attempting to create a new passing lane for Lovelace before Morgan could cut him off again.
Lovelace did her best to avoid the bludger and beater in front of her!
Things just seemed to be getting worse and worse. Reyna cringed as one bludger hit poor Elowen, then another. She'd been on the receiving end of the bloody terrible things herself. And she had done naught to save their keeper! Grumbling to herself, Reyna redirected her broom her broom. She racked her brain for a new angle.
The battle of the chasers was going strong; each one of them was neck and neck. The whistle of a bludger past Reyna's ear told her that Tulip wasn't giving up yet. Reyna tightened her jaw. Neither of them could now.
Well, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
Raising her bat once more, Reyna tracked down the other bludger and sent it in Brooks's direction again. The ear-splitting crack echoed in her brain, but whatever whimsy she'd carried at the start of the match had soured into frustration. Hopefully, that would be enough to fuel her performance.
i'm talking myself out of my own happiness
I'LL MAKE IT UP 'TIL I QUIT
Round Four Results
A hit lands, a door closes, and gold flickers just within reach.
The Lane Shifts
Morgan: 5 (success) / Brooks: 13 (success)
Morgan finally closes the gap she’d been chasing, sealing off the lane Brooks had been working, but he’s already three steps ahead of her, curving into fresh space before she even arrives. The old opening’s gone for good, but a new one takes its place, and Lovelace suddenly has somewhere else to look.
Tulip’s Strike
Tulip: 13 (success) / Lovelace: 15 (fail, hit)
Tulip finally shakes off her early rust and puts everything into the hit, sending the Bludger rocketing straight for Lovelace’s flank. Lovelace throws herself into a break, twisting hard against her broom, but she can’t quite clear the angle in time: the iron ball catches her before she’s fully free of it.
Maevie’s Lead
Maevie: 12 (success)
This time it holds. The flicker of gold threading near the scaffolding beneath the western stands doesn’t vanish the moment she looks for it, and for the first time all match, Maevie has a real line to chase instead of a glimpse to lose.
Reyna’s Second Bludger
Reyna: 9 (success) / Brooks: 9 (success)
Reyna finds her mark again, sending the second Bludger screaming towards Brooks. But he’s too busy weaving through open air to be caught flat-footed, twisting clear with the ball missing him by inches.
Elsewhere on the Pitch
Serik stays close to Lovelace’s side even as the Bludger connects, doing what he can to screen her from a second hit. Dawn stays tight to Morgan’s shoulder, ready to pounce the moment the Quaffle comes loose. Edwin circles high over the pitch, still without a single glimpse of the Snitch, and with Maevie visibly closing in on it, he doesn’t have much of a chance to catch up. Elowen, still shaking off last round’s battering, keeps both eyes on the hoops and none on sympathy. Conor circles wide, watching for his opening.
Round Five
Lovelace is still holding the Quaffle despite the hit, shaken but not shaken loose, with Brooks’s new lane sitting open and unused ahead of her. Morgan’s a step behind again, working to close the distance. Maevie finally has real eyes on the Snitch. And on the Acromantulas’ end, Reyna’s second miss means the Bludgers are still very much in the air.
OOC:
Round Five is the final round of the match! Get your last actions in!
This thread will close and results will be posted on Friday!
Her eyes stayed fixed on the tiny fleck of gold shimmering in the distance. This time, she wouldn’t lose sight of it.
The pitch around her blurred as Maevie raced from one side of the stadium to the other, pressed flat against her broom, her grip so tight she could feel the wood’s grain embedding itself into her skin. Her breaths came fast and shallow, the beat of her heart a drum in her chest.
She had to make it.
The Snitch didn’t vanish like it had the first time. Maevie didn’t dare look away, though. A faint thought knocked at the back of her mind: watch out for Bludgers; expect a hit. Sharpen your ears, at the very least.
She had read enough about Quidditch to understand that a Seeker in chase was about as much of a Bludger magnet as possible. Catching the Snitch ended the game in most cases, and no opposing team would let that happen if they knew how to stop it. Benji and Rae were probably the best Beaters at school, and Maevie had no doubt the crack of wood against iron would soon echo across the pitch.
It made her heartbeat grow even more frantic, every muscle tensed, but how embarrassing would it be to chicken out now? She had gotten this far, after all. Hopefully Reyna or Tulip would be quick enough to intercept, if needed.
With the wind rushing all around her, Maevie drew close enough to extend a hand, trying to grab the Snitch out of the air.
Tulip braced herself on her broom incase her bludger missed. But it was a waste of time as her bat hit bludger and bludger hit first year. She hadn't pulled that hit, that was going to bruise. She'd say sorry and send some of the sweets from her last trip to Hogsmead. It was no hard feelings it was just Quidditch.
Not having to use her body as the opposition's crash barrier meant that Tulip had time to look over the pitch and take stock of what was going on. That first year still had the quaffle, had they used some sort sort of sticking charm? It was clearly staying there. She chuckled, they almost deserved to score. She hoped they didn't and that her team got possession soon
She looked to her left seeing Maevie chasing something. She saw her reaching for something, had she found the snitch. No way! Oh that was cracking. But it also made her a huge target for the opposition. Especially their beaters. She didn't need swines like Benji hitting bludgers at their seeker now. Tulip deliberately moved to use herself to block any attacks by players or bludgers on Seeker Golding
Unsure of how she was still holding onto her broom or the Quaffle, Lovelace resumed movement towards the opposing goals through the lane she wasn't aware had been opened by Brooks. Aware that her luck was probably running out, she was now much more focused on finding any chasers to pass to while occasionally remembering to keep an eye out for bludgers.
She didn't know about anyone else, but Rae was having a great game. It had been off to a shaky start, but once she got back into the swing of things, things were steadily looking up.
Take the beautiful collision that had befallen Elowen. Not only had her bludger connected, but so did the other, courtesy of her darling boyfriend. A double whammy was a nasty way to go, but maybe it would wake up the beaters on the other team. If nothing else, it had already gotten Tulip back on the ball. The bludger shot by faster than Rae could reasonably hope to catch up with. It might've been a nasty smack for Lovelace, but the girl was made of iron and at least determined to hold onto the quaffle.
Had to admire the nerve. Rae could still remember the first time she'd been hit by one of those death balls. Unpleasant...was an understatement. Depending on how murderous the beater had been feeling at the time of the swing, things could get worse.
Benji had nearly been killed one year. On purpose!
Thankfully, the school had the common sense to expel the psychopath. It wasn't immediate, but a guy like that could hardly help himself. Enough incidents, and he was OUT.
That said, reminiscing was for the birds, and she had a game to continue.
Rae tracked the bludger, keeping an eye on Tulip in the background. It had only been in case she intercepted, but it drew her attention to Maevie and the snitch. That would never do. Swinging hard, Rae attempted to steer her bludger in Maevie's direction. With any luck it might end up too fast for the Gryffindor to halt.
"Bloody hell..." he muttered under his breath, watching Lovelace get hit by the bludger.
He'd taken Bludgers before. Everyone who played long enough had. It wasn't the pain that worried him. Players panicked, forgot to breathe, forgot they had teammates, after a hit. Lovelace, on the other hand, seemed to keep her mind. For someone so young, it was a miracle.
She still had the Quaffle. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He could only imagine how good she would be in a few years.
Brooks resisted every instinct to charge straight at her. Instead he kept just ahead of the action
while staying where she could see him.
He angled his broom, never flying in a straight line for more than a heartbeat, forcing anyone following him to keep making decisions instead of trying to follow him. Every turn kept him open without dragging another defender toward Lovelace.
If she wanted to shoot, he'd draw someone away. If she wanted to pass… He'd be waiting.
Brooks continued weaving through the open space, keeping himself open as a passing option for Lovelace while forcing Morgan to keep reacting to his movement instead of staying in one place.
Lovelace didn’t seem to want to let go of the Quaffle, and Morgan couldn’t blame her.
Still, Brooks was more than capable of taking the ball to the end if she wanted, and yet the firstie didn’t seem to want to give it up.
The way that her boyfriend was weaving in and out, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. She wanted to block him somehow, if Lovelace ever decided to give up the ball.
But after a moment, she realized that if she kept chasing Rook, then there was no chance of her scoring. She’d never played Quidditch with him before, and he was in general a great distraction. Him being on the opposite team to her?
That was just a cruel twist of fate.
Instead of closing in on Lovelace or following Rook’s movement, Morgan decided to swing wide and pushed hard towards the hoops. Getting between Lovelace and the hoops was probably her best bet at this point. The Quaffle would be taken, eventually, but for now, blocking any chance of a score would force the girl to adjust. Perhaps finally pass the ball.
Morgan dove to cut off Lovelace’s shooting lane, attempting to force her into a worse angle before she could get a clean shot off.
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