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gooseberryhigh2017-04-23 02:00 pm
goosemods) wrote in gooseberryhigh2017-04-23 02:00 pm
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QUIDDITCH: April 23, Match #10
The day starts out overcast and only grows cloudier with every hour, but loyal Quidditch fans tote umbrellas and rubber raincoats as they fill the stands. Down below, Captains Ogletree and Powers are doing their best to keep everyone peppy despite the promise of rain. Luckily for the cheer squads, the grass is still dry when it’s time for them to perform their routines, and all that dancing, stacking, tumbling and chanting goes off without a hitch. The same can’t be said for the players, who feel a light sprinkle of rain just as they take off into the air.
But water never slows down a fish, and Chaser Alapai rushes forward to get her hands on the Quaffle first. While the Beaters run down the Bludgers, the Chasers do their best to disrupt each other’s formations. Chasers Quayle and Webb swing into the path of Valentine, cutting her off from her team; while Decourt pursues a zigzagging Alapai, bent on stealing the Quaffle—but she throws behind to Fairchild, who catches it and drops below the knot of Chasers, nearly skimming the ground as she speeds for the goals—but a zippy Quayle is right on her heels, and comes nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with her. Fairchild throws to Valentine, but the ball’s intercepted by Webb; Webb U-turns for the Ribbonfin goalposts, but Beaters Delgado and Fanning are the first on a Bludger, and coordinate their bats to slam it right at him; Webb fumbles and the Quaffle’s back to Alapai, who takes it down the pitch then passes to Valentine, who takes it the rest of the way. Decourt catches up and grabs for the Quaffle, throwing off Valentine’s aim, and Keeper Raza knocks it out of the air.
The game continues in this vein, quick and fierce, as though both teams are fighting to do all they can before the downpour starts. No one even scores a goal until eight minutes in, with Fairchild getting one past Raza, but Ebonhide follows up with two more past Keeper Davenport by the fifteen minute mark. Soon, the sky goes from drizzling to drenching, and the audience throw up umbrellas while the cheerleaders run for shelter. Coach Thorn calls for a five-minute break to allow players to cast rain-repelling charms, but charms do little to improve the poor visibility—particularly for Seekers Bright and Hale, who are still smarting from their failure during the last Ebonhide–Ribbonfin game. Before they hop back on their brooms, Thorn promises that there’s no way the Snitch is leaving the pitch this time (even if there is a Niffler in the audience).
Rain also slows Bludgers, but Beaters Fiori and Kim stay dogged, breaking up Ribbonfin’s Chaser formation as much as possible. The score climbs bit by bit for Ebonhide, 30–20 at the half-hour mark then 50–30 twenty minutes later, with Decourt scoring three of their five goals. It’s painfully slow-going game, but early enough in that all players are determined to stay focused and energetic as the rain beats down on them. It’s Hale who spots the Snitch first, barely a glint against the ground that blurs as it speeds for the Ribbonfin end. Ebonhide’s leading, Bright’s on the other end of the pitch, and Hale doesn’t waste a second; she kicks into gear, charging into the rain, her eyes fixed on the barely visible golden flicker. Only Beater Delgado is close to stop her, but Fiori/Kim have both Bludgers aimed at the Chasers, so Delgado improvises, speeding after Hale as fast as he can go. There’s a shout in the crowd when the audience realizes what’s happening—seconds too late to warn Hale as Delgado rams into her, knocking her off-course. Hale keeps a tight grip on the slippery wood of her broom, but the Snitch has disappeared.
It’s 66 minutes into the game, and the score’s sitting at 60–40 for Ebonhide. Coach Thorn calls for a penalty and orders Delgado back on the bench for ten minutes, with Reserve Lewis filling in for him. Usually a reserve entering the match signals good luck for the other team, but not this time, probably because Lewis hasn’t been soaking wet for the past hour. Beater Fanning demonstrates remarkably rainy weather maneuverability by getting between the Ebonhide Beaters and volleying a Bludger over to Lewis, who hits it with all his strength at a rapidly dodging Quayle. In clear weather, it might’ve taken off his head, but the half-second afforded by rain lets the Bludger only kiss the side of his head, leaving Quayle with a scraped cheek and ringing ears. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to slow him down for a few minutes—all the time needed for Fairchild and Valentine to get in two back-to-back goals through Ebonhide’s defenses, finally tying the game at 70–70. Despite being out for more than an hour and a half, waterlogged fans summon the energy to yell encouragement for their chosen team.
Both teams are determined, but it’s difficult to keep up the energy after more than an hour and a half on the pitch. Bright and Hale fly desperate circles around each other, hunting for the elusive Snitch. Noise from the waterlogged crowd drops to nearly a whisper as everyone watches and waits, only rising briefly when Fiori and Kim synchronize Bludgers to clear the way for Webb, who lobs a Quaffle through Davenport’s middle hoop, inching Ebonhide forward to 80–70. Then a sudden shout, and spectators stand and point as the Golden Snitch flits right before their eyes.
Bright reacts first, but Hale isn’t far behind, both Seekers streaking through the rain for the main prize. The commotion’s also enough to distract Quayle, who glances over—and gets the Quaffle stolen right out of his hands by Alapai. Neck and neck, Hale and Bright chase after the Snitch, closing in inch by inch as the flickering ball dives low to the ground, trying to throw them off. Fanning serves another Bludger to Lewis; Decourt veers hard to avoid getting hit; Alapai sails right past her and throws long, sending the Quaffle skimming across Raza’s glove and hitting the rim of the hoop before bouncing through. Everyone in the stands are on their feet. The Seekers stretch their arms as far as they’ll go. Bright gains the lead and closes his hand, but the Snitch, slick with cold rain, slips right between his fingertips. Hale bumps his shoulder hard as she throws herself forward, reaching out—and Bright lunges again, catching the Snitch square in his waiting palm.
But water never slows down a fish, and Chaser Alapai rushes forward to get her hands on the Quaffle first. While the Beaters run down the Bludgers, the Chasers do their best to disrupt each other’s formations. Chasers Quayle and Webb swing into the path of Valentine, cutting her off from her team; while Decourt pursues a zigzagging Alapai, bent on stealing the Quaffle—but she throws behind to Fairchild, who catches it and drops below the knot of Chasers, nearly skimming the ground as she speeds for the goals—but a zippy Quayle is right on her heels, and comes nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with her. Fairchild throws to Valentine, but the ball’s intercepted by Webb; Webb U-turns for the Ribbonfin goalposts, but Beaters Delgado and Fanning are the first on a Bludger, and coordinate their bats to slam it right at him; Webb fumbles and the Quaffle’s back to Alapai, who takes it down the pitch then passes to Valentine, who takes it the rest of the way. Decourt catches up and grabs for the Quaffle, throwing off Valentine’s aim, and Keeper Raza knocks it out of the air.
The game continues in this vein, quick and fierce, as though both teams are fighting to do all they can before the downpour starts. No one even scores a goal until eight minutes in, with Fairchild getting one past Raza, but Ebonhide follows up with two more past Keeper Davenport by the fifteen minute mark. Soon, the sky goes from drizzling to drenching, and the audience throw up umbrellas while the cheerleaders run for shelter. Coach Thorn calls for a five-minute break to allow players to cast rain-repelling charms, but charms do little to improve the poor visibility—particularly for Seekers Bright and Hale, who are still smarting from their failure during the last Ebonhide–Ribbonfin game. Before they hop back on their brooms, Thorn promises that there’s no way the Snitch is leaving the pitch this time (even if there is a Niffler in the audience).
Rain also slows Bludgers, but Beaters Fiori and Kim stay dogged, breaking up Ribbonfin’s Chaser formation as much as possible. The score climbs bit by bit for Ebonhide, 30–20 at the half-hour mark then 50–30 twenty minutes later, with Decourt scoring three of their five goals. It’s painfully slow-going game, but early enough in that all players are determined to stay focused and energetic as the rain beats down on them. It’s Hale who spots the Snitch first, barely a glint against the ground that blurs as it speeds for the Ribbonfin end. Ebonhide’s leading, Bright’s on the other end of the pitch, and Hale doesn’t waste a second; she kicks into gear, charging into the rain, her eyes fixed on the barely visible golden flicker. Only Beater Delgado is close to stop her, but Fiori/Kim have both Bludgers aimed at the Chasers, so Delgado improvises, speeding after Hale as fast as he can go. There’s a shout in the crowd when the audience realizes what’s happening—seconds too late to warn Hale as Delgado rams into her, knocking her off-course. Hale keeps a tight grip on the slippery wood of her broom, but the Snitch has disappeared.
It’s 66 minutes into the game, and the score’s sitting at 60–40 for Ebonhide. Coach Thorn calls for a penalty and orders Delgado back on the bench for ten minutes, with Reserve Lewis filling in for him. Usually a reserve entering the match signals good luck for the other team, but not this time, probably because Lewis hasn’t been soaking wet for the past hour. Beater Fanning demonstrates remarkably rainy weather maneuverability by getting between the Ebonhide Beaters and volleying a Bludger over to Lewis, who hits it with all his strength at a rapidly dodging Quayle. In clear weather, it might’ve taken off his head, but the half-second afforded by rain lets the Bludger only kiss the side of his head, leaving Quayle with a scraped cheek and ringing ears. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to slow him down for a few minutes—all the time needed for Fairchild and Valentine to get in two back-to-back goals through Ebonhide’s defenses, finally tying the game at 70–70. Despite being out for more than an hour and a half, waterlogged fans summon the energy to yell encouragement for their chosen team.
Both teams are determined, but it’s difficult to keep up the energy after more than an hour and a half on the pitch. Bright and Hale fly desperate circles around each other, hunting for the elusive Snitch. Noise from the waterlogged crowd drops to nearly a whisper as everyone watches and waits, only rising briefly when Fiori and Kim synchronize Bludgers to clear the way for Webb, who lobs a Quaffle through Davenport’s middle hoop, inching Ebonhide forward to 80–70. Then a sudden shout, and spectators stand and point as the Golden Snitch flits right before their eyes.
Bright reacts first, but Hale isn’t far behind, both Seekers streaking through the rain for the main prize. The commotion’s also enough to distract Quayle, who glances over—and gets the Quaffle stolen right out of his hands by Alapai. Neck and neck, Hale and Bright chase after the Snitch, closing in inch by inch as the flickering ball dives low to the ground, trying to throw them off. Fanning serves another Bludger to Lewis; Decourt veers hard to avoid getting hit; Alapai sails right past her and throws long, sending the Quaffle skimming across Raza’s glove and hitting the rim of the hoop before bouncing through. Everyone in the stands are on their feet. The Seekers stretch their arms as far as they’ll go. Bright gains the lead and closes his hand, but the Snitch, slick with cold rain, slips right between his fingertips. Hale bumps his shoulder hard as she throws herself forward, reaching out—and Bright lunges again, catching the Snitch square in his waiting palm.
.
.
.
.
.
RIBBONFIN WINS
130–80
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.
.
.
RIBBONFIN WINS
130–80
Whether you’re a player, cheerleader or spectator, post below with your character’s reactions! If you wish to post separately about the game, please use lj-cuts and mark for spoilers for the first 24 hours, so no one sees the result before reading the official match description. bluh bluh
Rafael & Leo
Rafael hums in satisfaction. "I will show you where you should be." He's not as confident as his words, but he can feel the bottle of booze sloshing in his bag. Now that the decision has been made, Rafael is committed.
The greenhouse is never very secure. The lock pops open agreeably as Rafael whispers Alohamora. Inside, they're safe from the rain, and the smell of dirt and lush greenery hits them immediately. It's humid and warm, nothing like the wet chill outside. Rafael shakes rainwater off his umbrella, and peers down the dark, narrow rows of planers. Climbing plants crawl all over the walls, and the look is elegantly overgrown. It's small. Intimate. Risky. The rain's loud on the glass panes above them, nearly drowning out the trickling of the pond deeper inside.
"You are alright with this?" he asks, turning to Leo. He whispers even though they are almost certainly alone.
Rafael & Leo
"If you are, so am I." His voice stays very low, and a little amused despite himself. Leo steps in close, pressing a kiss just under Rafael's ear, while he's right there. "Do we have to plant things?"
Rafael & Leo
"I have something else in mind," he admits, having the sense to sound at least a little bit embarrassed. This isn't something that's typical of either of them, and Rafael realizes Leo could still refuse the proposition. However, agreeing to break into the greenhouse with him was a good sign. "What do you think about drinking your troubles away?"
[OOC: A glance into the future.]
Rafael & Leo
But he doesn't think it is. And as most things Rafael thinks up, it suddenly sounds like the best idea anyone's ever had. He's not normally one to drown his problems in alcohol or anything else. He thinks it's cheating, in a way, and a crutch. But right now, Leo's chilled to the bone and too exhausted to care about leaning. If it was with other people, it might be different. But this is Rafael. And Rafael knows him.
Leo tugs on the zipper in front of him, decisive. "I think you're a genius, what else is new."
[OOC: I LOVE MR. HIGHTOWER SO MUCH L O L WATERING CAN]
Rafael & Leo
But Rafael looks at him now, when it's just the two of them and Quidditch feels far way, and... he's smiling. It feels like a victory. One of many tonight, he hopes.
"You deserve to not worry anymore." Rafael can only bear to let go of Leo with one hand to fish out the bottle of Jack Daniels that was donated by Quinn. Once he has it, though, he hooks a finger on the collar of Leo's shirt and leads him further into the greenhouse. "And I know how difficult that is. So I found help."
Rafael & Leo
"I'm not playing Quidpong with that." Is his only proviso. He follows as close as he can manage, keeping just one arm around Rafael. The other touches the hand on his collar, holding it to his chest. "Love you." It isn't enough to communicate what this intervention means to Leo,and how grateful he is. There aren't enough words in any of their languages to come close.
Rafael & Leo
But there's business to attend to. Rafael presses the bottle lightly against Leo's chest. "No quidpong. What do you want to toast to first?"
Rafael & Leo
So Leo finds a comfortable looking space near some tall ferns a few steps away, and tugs at Rafael's elbow so he knows to sit. It wouldn't be great to have someone outside looking in, anyway. That done, he uncaps the bottle and offers it to Rafael first. "You earned first toast the second you broke that lock, cuore mio. To you." He sounds very firm on this.
Rafael & Leo
"To me," he says quietly, his stomach doing a little flip at the term of endearment. Whenever he thinks he's over the butterflies stage of their relationship, something happens to prove him wrong. He doesn't linger on it, though, and takes a deep breath before tipping back the bottle.
Rafael winces as the alcohol hits his throat. "Dios." His voice is hoarse, but he recovers and hands the bottle over to Leo again, smiling. "Now you. We need to practice drinking so next time we can play more than one game of Quidpong before we get too drunk."
Rafael & Leo
"We played three rounds of Quidpong, that once." Leo's quick to point out, even though that accomplishment is nothing to be proud of. "It was awful. So. To you." Leo toasts the air and takes a long, determined swallow. Maybe too long. It rushes to his head quickly, after all that exercise and no food. It's nice, kind of. He smiles, and hands the bottle back. "People do this for fun." He jokes. "Your toast."