Post by Kieran Prince on Jul 19, 2009 22:54:28 GMT -5
The snow fell intermittently in small flakes that drifted down slowly due to the lack of any real breeze. Though a thick white blanket covered the ground, it was relatively nice out, especially for one use to the chill of the dungeons and the only common room located under the lake. After six years, Kieran understood why his father preferred the manor to be cooler than most of their guests liked, it was more refreshing, crisper… easier to think in. Most of all, he liked playing in this type of weather.
Making his way down to the pitch, intent on getting some extra practice in himself as he felt he never got enough when having to spend so much of their team practice time watching the others, Kieran grinned, pleased to find the weather had stayed the same as earlier that morning. With his broom in one hand and his bat propped on his shoulder with the other, he took his time walking down to the pitch, enjoying the way his breath escaped him in puffs and the sound of the snow crunching under his feet. His insides were still warm from the thick stew served at lunch and he didn’t intend to let this beautiful day go to waste. It was a pity really, there being no match that day.
A few flakes clung to his thick wool turtleneck, the green of the yarn so deep it almost looked black, giving it an almost peppered appearance. The warmth of his head however melted the little crystals upon impact but his hair remained dry thanks to the repelling charm he cast before exiting the castle. There was no sense in risking a cold. With their match against Gryffindor coming up he would take no chances of giving the lions any edge. He even made it clear to his team that anyone foolish enough to wind themselves in the Infirmary between now and then would do best to avoid the dormitory as he wouldn’t be the only one displeased in the serpentine house. They would have the cup this year.
Once the pitch was in sight, he was glad to see it vacant of any players and his paced increased slightly, his head shaking here and there to throw off the droplets of water clinging to his dark hair. There were a few people in the stands, mostly couples out to find a quiet place that would give them more solitude than a dark corner. He didn’t need to circle the pitch to know there would be a few more active couples lurking amongst the stairwells. Entering the Slytherin locker room, he grabbed a case that carried two practice bludgers and carried it out onto the pitch, his broom tucked under his arm. He promptly set the case on the field, followed by his bat, and turning his back on the case, took a few steps forward to mount his broom and fly around to warm up.
No sooner than he threw a leg over the handle of his priced piece of gear a noise was heard behind him and Kieran’s head snapped to look over his shoulder. What he saw drained his good mood immediately and a piercing scowl spread across his face. Of all people, it had to be one them.
“Isn’t it too cold out for lions?” he suddenly asked, distain dripping off every syllable. “I’m sure there’s a fire somewhere begging for you to curl up against. It’s about all your lot is good for, rugs, otherwise they’d never give you brooms. Though, I doubt you Gryffs have the sense to sweep the dirt out of your house.” Only Hufflepuff seemed to have a greater infestation of Mudbloods, which wasn't saying much. Their house sigil might as well have been a teddy bear.
Making his way down to the pitch, intent on getting some extra practice in himself as he felt he never got enough when having to spend so much of their team practice time watching the others, Kieran grinned, pleased to find the weather had stayed the same as earlier that morning. With his broom in one hand and his bat propped on his shoulder with the other, he took his time walking down to the pitch, enjoying the way his breath escaped him in puffs and the sound of the snow crunching under his feet. His insides were still warm from the thick stew served at lunch and he didn’t intend to let this beautiful day go to waste. It was a pity really, there being no match that day.
A few flakes clung to his thick wool turtleneck, the green of the yarn so deep it almost looked black, giving it an almost peppered appearance. The warmth of his head however melted the little crystals upon impact but his hair remained dry thanks to the repelling charm he cast before exiting the castle. There was no sense in risking a cold. With their match against Gryffindor coming up he would take no chances of giving the lions any edge. He even made it clear to his team that anyone foolish enough to wind themselves in the Infirmary between now and then would do best to avoid the dormitory as he wouldn’t be the only one displeased in the serpentine house. They would have the cup this year.
Once the pitch was in sight, he was glad to see it vacant of any players and his paced increased slightly, his head shaking here and there to throw off the droplets of water clinging to his dark hair. There were a few people in the stands, mostly couples out to find a quiet place that would give them more solitude than a dark corner. He didn’t need to circle the pitch to know there would be a few more active couples lurking amongst the stairwells. Entering the Slytherin locker room, he grabbed a case that carried two practice bludgers and carried it out onto the pitch, his broom tucked under his arm. He promptly set the case on the field, followed by his bat, and turning his back on the case, took a few steps forward to mount his broom and fly around to warm up.
No sooner than he threw a leg over the handle of his priced piece of gear a noise was heard behind him and Kieran’s head snapped to look over his shoulder. What he saw drained his good mood immediately and a piercing scowl spread across his face. Of all people, it had to be one them.
“Isn’t it too cold out for lions?” he suddenly asked, distain dripping off every syllable. “I’m sure there’s a fire somewhere begging for you to curl up against. It’s about all your lot is good for, rugs, otherwise they’d never give you brooms. Though, I doubt you Gryffs have the sense to sweep the dirt out of your house.” Only Hufflepuff seemed to have a greater infestation of Mudbloods, which wasn't saying much. Their house sigil might as well have been a teddy bear.
