Time: Dusk
Outfit: Link


Curious, very curious. Euphemia said as she looked around the pitch. Very curious. She looked up at the dusky sky and then down the to the crunched snow at her feet. “Curious,” she said aloud with a furrowed brow. She felt her teeth chatter against her will. Pity, she wasn’t able to control everything, ones body did have normal reflexes. She wiggled her toes within her boots before taking a step further onto the foreign pitch.

She smoothly walked forward as she looked up at the stands. “What is the appeal?” Euphemia was trying to grasp what was so fantastic about this particular space. She had over heard a couple of older boys talking about it once. She also heard of silly bubbly girls gushing about all the hot boys that spent time there. Euphemia was of course not interested in such frivolous things like hot boys but was merely curious at the power such a space had. What made the pitch that exciting?

With a disgusted sigh she rolled her eyes. This entire space was a complete and utter let down. There was nothing special about this place, and to make matters completely worse it was outside. She sniffed the air; okay so maybe the crisp air had some appeal. The snow was disappearing though making a slushy mess, one that was dirtying her books. This place was getting less appealing by the second. “Gross,” she let slip out.

Glancing over her shoulder she spied someone through her once again dark curls. Was someone following her? Watching her? Euphemia didn’t take kindly to being watched.

Go n-ithe na péisteoga thú!

Really?  Really?

How bloody annoying was this?  The quidditch pitch seemed, sometimes, to be one of those ideal sanctuaries.  Most of the girlie-girls in her year seemed to avoid it.  Rene was probably still deathly afraid of flying after that abysmal exam.  Mairead rarely saw many of the Slytherin girls here.  If she saw any of the kids in her year, they were the rough-and-tumble, not-afraid-to-get-dirty boys that Mairead usually surrounded herself with, anyway. 

Mairead had taken quickly to flying.  For better or worse, it was the one class at school she actually did well in and knew she did well in.  In fact, she liked to think she had actually managed to rank at the top in her class!  She found her way to the quidditch pitch as often as she could - either alone or with Grace or whoever happened to be here and willing to tolerate her watching or (if she was lucky) joining in. 

So, it was with great disappointment that she spotted little miss prissy Euphie standing in her quidditch pitch.  Her fingers squeezed the handle of Eimar.  (Yes - it had taken less than a week for Mairead to officially name the broom Grace had given her.  Over the winter holidays, she'd even seen to it that Deaglan, the wandmaker, carved the name into the handle of the broom.  He'd offered to tinker with it, some - give it some 'personality.'  They'd both decided it'd be best to try that after the wandmaker had conferred with a few broommakers on the matter.) 

Mairead continued to hesitate, watching the girl.  It'd be easier to turn around and leave.  Then, Mairead wouldn't have to listen to the girl's snide comments about her clothes.  Or her used books.  Or her muggle parents.  Or whatever else caught the Slytherin's attention at that moment.  But, then, Mairead would be relinquishing the quidditch pitch and this was her turf. 

Without a word, Mairead climbed on her broom and leaned over, urging the thing forward.  Quite obviously deliberate, Mairead flew just past the girl - hopefully close enough that the breeze (if not a few stray bristles on the broom) would tug at the Slytherin's fancy clothes. 

outfit

Who, or what, in the world was behind her? Euphemia couldn’t see a darn thing as she looked through her dark curls. She furrowed her brow as she shifted to get a better look, just in time for that someone to fly right past her. She felt her heart race and the breeze her hit her hair tossing it about. How rude she thought to herself a scowl rightfully upon her face. Euphemia took a moment to look down at a snag in her jacket that most assuredly was not there before.

She looked towards the direction the broom had flown trying to make out the small figure that was straddling the broom. It was obviously one of her year mates, if you could even call them mates. It was definitely not any well respecting girl she knew. Sure some girls played quidditch but none of the girls in her year spent a lot of time on brooms that she knew of. Well nobody self-respecting. So that only meant that it was either one of the annoying boys, or Turkey.

The mere flash of a hideous old sweater made her sure it was Turkey and not one of the dirty icky boys. Why were people so into being dirty, as dirty as Turkey was poor? Euphemia rolled her eyes and looked up. “Turkey, I don’t want to play.” She called out and crossed her arms over her chest.

The Slytherin's annoying whining reached Mairead's ears just as she whisked past the other girl on her broom.  She didn't want to play?  What did Ewfie think; Mairead was inviting her to do so?  Oh no - this was a grave, grave misunderstanding. 

"I never asked ye to play," Mairead barked back at the girl.  She turned her broom and tracked back to the girl, stopping a short distance away  - though, unmistakably out of reach.  But just close enough to see the gratifying little snag in the girl's sweater.  Mairead admired it a moment like it was a work of art.  "There's no reason for ye to be here so why don't ye just piss off."  Mairead wasn't in the mood to deal with the spoiled little brat (not that she ever really was).  She wanted to fly and practice and relax.  Not worry about what the other girl was doing. 

"Besides, do ye even know how to fly?"  Mairead asked the girl.  "Aren't ye in the flying for dummies class with Rene?"  Eirene, Mairead knew, was among the students who were taking the remedial flying class.  It was no surprise; Eirene flew like a granny in an Oldsmobile during the exam. 

Euphemia was sure the definition of play was very different for each girl. Torturing another person emotionally was play to Euphemia, and she was feeling like playing today. Euphemia was shocked that she wasn’t up for playing today, normally when Turkey was involved she was always up for being cruel and poke fun, it was one of her favourite pastimes actually. She actually preferred it when Keegan was involved. The mudblood was such an easy target, so she sometimes Euphemia got a bit bored. Since it appeared Turkey was not going away any time soon she was just going to have to get into the mood.

“The last time I checked I was free to go to the pitch, as it is not yours.” She raised her eyebrow. “Now if you were to tell me you owned this particular piece of property, maybe then I would consider your advice to,” she paused, “as you so cheaply put it piss off.” She rolled her eyes as she stood her ground. Before she would have left about now, on her own accord, but not it was just fun to annoy Turkey.

 “Flying for dummies, I would say that is a poor choices of words as that could include you.” Euphemia shook her head. “But for your information I am not in the remedial flying class. I passed my flying exam.” Euphemia just chose not to fly. She had no interest in the dirty brooms. Perhaps she would purchase her own but she would never use the dirty and splintered school brooms. “I wouldn’t expect someone like yourself to be observant or care about anyone but your pathetic poor self.”

( hope you don't mind me joining in)

Charles had decided to head down to the Quidditch Pitch to get some flying in, seeing as how he'd not been able to since he passed the Flying exam.However, he wasn't gong to use one of the school brooms. Nor was he breaking the rule about first-years owning brooms, since it wasnlt his broom, but his older brother Josh's broom. He had asked his older brother just before he came down, and indeed, his older brother had retrieved it from his older brother's dorm.

Reachig the Pitch, he saw Euphemia and Mairead were already there. This could be interesting, since they were no doubt arguing. Kicking off from the ground, he did a couple of laps of the pitch, listening to Mairead and Euphemia whne he could.