`` who's got a match . . ? [[lycoris]]

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

There were few things that would get Grey willingly out of his bed before the Sun reached its zenith – a bacon sandwich was one of them, though this usually resulted in a return to bed upon its completion (or even a straight return to the warmth of his duvet with the aforementioned breakfast item still in his possession, prior to ingestion). The other, slightly more useful, activity for getting the seventeen year old up and about was Quidditch; he loved the sport, and also loved nothing better than breaking the crisp morning air with a zoom around the stadium. He was better on his broom than he was in any class, most probably than all of his classes combined, and felt very much at home astride his top-of-the-range Nimbus.

And so the morning found him headed to this familiar haunt, comfortable black jeans and striped hoodie pulled on without much thought, goggles perched on his forehead, heavy black boots on his feet, with his arms draped across the broomstick which lay across his shoulders. He shrugged off a shiver as a chill of wind whistled through the school’s grounds, drab in the grey half-light that they were afforded through the thick blanket of uniform cloud and in their state of decay as the Summer moved on to Autumn – yet at the same time remaining a source of wonderment and beauty... to those who appreciated such things. Quinn was not counted amongst that number. The extent of the natural world that the Slytherin appreciated usually had fur and four legs, plants and sponges and rock formations just really weren’t able to pique his interest in quite the same way.

He whistled tunelessly to himself as he passed under the tunnel that led to the manicured turf of the pitch – which, he observed, was in remarkable condition despite the recent, frequent downpours of rain – and turned sharply up the staircase before reaching the grass, swinging his broom down from his shoulders and taking the wooden steps 2 and 3 at a time. To some, this would have seemed a needless expenditure of energy – why would one not simply fly up to the top of the stands, or why would one bother at all? The ritual of the thing, however, held Quinn to this pattern, as did the need to quench his thirst for an adrenaline rush that only came from the first flight of the morning. And it had to be perfect. He had to catch the breeze correctly, had to skim along the grass, had to hit that perfect arc and circle at that precise altitude. Climbing the bleachers, feet tracing familiar parts of the wooden benches which creaked lightly beneath his treads, he kept his eyes down with no regard for the view nor the silence as he continued to whistle in time with his steps.

Finally he raised his blue-grey eyes as he reached the top step, turning and leaning upon the back hoarding in one movement with ankles crossed and Nimbus clutched beside him in loose grip. He scrutinized the stands then, making sure of solitude – he didn’t think he would get it wrong, but he didn’t want to risk humiliation on the off-chance that it should; this perhaps wasn’t the best plan, if something did go wrong, it would go very wrong, and he would need some help. But that was just a risk he would have to take, a little danger weighted against a potential shitload – technical term - of ridicule seemed a worthy sacrifice to make. Removing his wand from the pocket of his trousers, he caused the broom to levitate and start forwards at a brisk pace. With that, he replaced the rosewood stick, snapped his goggles down and charged off after the broom at a sprint.

As it reached the lip of the stand, the spell changed and the broom began downwards, Quinn throwing himself after it, spread-eagled for a moment in the air, hanging weightless before he was taken down by gravity after the Nimbus. Catching on, he headed straight for the ground, rescuing the freefall as his toes skimmed the grass before looping upwards around a goalpost and flying a lap around the pitch, stomach pressed flat against the wood to attain maximum velocity in flight. He grinned with the exhilaration, slowing as he sat up and allowed a lull in his pace, wobbling slightly as he readjusted his balance as he closed his eyes. That was the way to do it. He began to wish that he had had a witness.

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: seven-six-one.
NOTES:: okay, why did I say I'd start? i suck at starting.
MUSIC:: where's the magic - bowling for soup.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.

[lycoris faith sunders]

Oh mornings. The blonde haired girl was not exactly a fan of mornings, but she also didn't mind getting up some days to do something she loved. She had decided the previous night that it was time to start brushing up on some basic flying skills, just because the new Quidditch season was fast approaching, and she wanted to be well prepared. Lyc quickly got dressed in a grey long sleeved shirt, some old jeans, a vest, and a hat and nodded to herself in the mirror. She wasn't exactly one to care too much about her looks, but she also didn't feel like wearing her normal weekend drab to go flying in, it was not practical.

After a quick breakfast Lycoris headed back up to her dorm room to grab her new top of the line broom. Sure, her parents didn't eactly like her that much, but they were not about to let any of their children go to school without the best. What was wrong with her old brom, who knew, but she didn't really mind too much either. Grabbing her gloves out of her trunk, and her goggles from her table, she left her dorm. Most people were doing their homework in the common room, so it was fairly easy to sneak out without being asked if someone else could come along. Today she felt like flying solo.

The wind brushed past as she moved swiftly to the familiar pitch. It didn't bother Lyc in the least though, she was used to having the wind rush past when flying high in the ground in nothing but her uniform. Boy did that feeling make her happy. Just the thought brought a small smile to her face. As she walked she slipped her goggles onto her head, fitting them under her hat and securing her hat with a few clips so it wouldn't get lost, and then placing her gloves on one by one. Honestly, that was the thing she needed to get used to again. They drove her nuts, but it did make handling the quaffle so much easier.

As she reached the pitch Lyc closed her eyes for a brief moment. taking in the familiar smell of the grass. The blood and sweat smell from last year had thankfully been cleaned up, and washed away with the recent rains. When she opened them again she caught a glimpse of someone else flying around. Well, not really flying, more like diving towards the ground, and managing to smooth it out. She was momentarily impressed, but it didn't last too long. People did that out of sheer stupidity usually, or just for the rush. Lyc had done a few dives during games, but not like what that person just did. That just looked psychotic.

Then she recognized who it was, and wished that he had not come out of that dive, that would have been entertaining to watch. Falling, falling, falling, SPLAT! One less person to deal with in her life. Oh that would be the day. A small grin creeped across her face at the thought. Then she made that grin into a smirk. This day was supposed to be about solo flight, but apparently it has now become about enemies. It wasn't like Lycoris enjoyed having enemies, but when she gained one for the simple reason or a bludger, and winning a match, well, it kinda makes it interesting.

Lyc quickly mounted her broom and took off, making an easy climb to the perfect flying height. A smile then covered her face as she relaxed into the familiar feeling of the wind in her hair, whipping across her cheeks. She twisted in the air slightly and veered towards one Mister Quinn Grey. They would meet up in the air sooner or later, and honestly, she would rather start the fight rather than have to join in on this particular day. Besides, it could prove to be entertaining. "Think your cool huh Grey? Or maybe still down about that last match?" Lyc called out casually, stopping her broom a fair distance from him, but within earshot so she didn't have to yell too much...yet at least.

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

His breathing had subconsciously quickened during the dive and circle and he could feel his heart beating in his chest, pumping the adrenaline and endorphins through his veinous system. He had missed the thrill of flying in a purpose built stadium – okay, so it hadn’t exactly been built to be used as he had just done, but the atmosphere of even the empty stands evoked a sense of worth to his actions. Of course, he hadn’t been sitting around all summer without flying, it wasn’t the novelty of the situation that was causing these feelings; he had in fact practiced quite extensively throughout the summer (one of the perks of living in an all wizard town was that it was a perfectly normal thing to do), with knowledge that a place on the House team wasn’t guaranteed – well technically, he had made every team since 3rd year. It was just good to be back.

One thing that he had not missed, however, was certain members of the opposing teams. Whilst Quinn was not particularly ardent or even caring over whether Slytherin won the House Cup in any particular year, he cared deeply about securing the Quidditch cup and winning every match. He saved the great majority of his competitive urges for the pitch (the few which were expended elsewhere utilized in dares and general contests of one-up-man-ship with students and professors alike). So when he was cheated of victory, robbed of the only honour that he could bring to his House, he was not best pleased. And one such case had just entered the stadium. Great.... Lycoris Faith Sunders. Of course, she was a Ravenclaw, and a blue-eyed blonde, and female, and just generally not Quinn – so obviously her version of events, however bias or skewed, was going to be believed by anyone that she could make listen. Even Quinn, with such a silver tongue as he possessed stood little chance in convincing others that his version of events was the right one (though whether he himself was being truthful remained an entirely different question).

He maintained that she had cheated, shunting into him and interfering with his broom in the air causing him to release the quaffle early and miss the goal, while distracting him for long enough that he couldn’t possibly have avoided the two incoming bludgers – landing him in the hospital wing with a broken radius, nose and several bruised and cracked ribs. The bruising of his ego was what hurt him the most though, enough so that he carried this grudge along with him for these past two years and that Lycoris Sunders had become a proper enemy – for petty reasons initially, but reason none-the-less. Truth be told, Quinn wasn’t entirely sure what had happened anymore, both sides having adapted the story on so many occasions that he didn’t even trust his own version of the events that unfolded – but he’d be damned if he would admit to that, too stubborn and proud to back down even an inch.

A growl rumbled in the back of his throat, lip rising over his teeth in a small snarl as he watched the Ravenclaw mount her broom and head pointedly in his direction; well, if she wanted to play so early on in the morning then he would retort in a suitable manner. Setting his expression back to one of haughty disdain, he hovered lower to meet her silent challenge with arms folded across his chest. He scoffed at her jibe, cocking an eyebrow, “Oh don’t act like you weren’t impressed. You just wish you could pull that off.” He narrowed his eyes at her as she continued, the growl edging into his voice, “A fluke, you know Gryffindor’s team has shit on Slytherin.” He stated simply, he didn’t want to bring up their altercation, it was the last line of defence. “Though you wouldn’t know anything about good teams, would’ya?” Every insult he could have used had been thrown at the girl over the course of their war, he really couldn’t be bothered with being so very clever with every jibe, instead levelling the Ravenclaw with a look one usually reserved for something found on the bottom of a shoe.

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: seven-oh-three.
NOTES:: i wrote this at work, apologies if it's rambling and shifts styles. =P
MUSIC:: emily - bowling for soup.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.

[lycoris faith sunders]

It still amazed Lycoris just how much thrill one could get out of flying. Sure, she was completely used to it, but to be that completely free, if only for the duration of the flight, it was wonderful. If only one truly could be free from everything that was horrid with life while doing it. Really, it was one game, how much of a grudge could you hold? Aparently alot of course. The wind whipped a peice of her blonde hair across her face, and she balanced herself so that she could move it back out of the way. If this was going to turn into a fight she sure wanted to be able to see what was coming at her.

Subconciously, before responding, Lyc twiched her foot where her wand was stationed while flying, just to double check that it was there if and when she needed it. Anything with this particular Slytherin could turn nasty in a flash, and she wanted to be ready when it came. "Something so juvinile as a dive is not exactly impressive in my books. Unless of course you choose not to pull out of it, then I would be very impressed." Lyc retorted. Did she exactly wish for people to die? No, not at all. But she really disliked Quinn, so much that it wouldn't really bother her really.

Lycoris raised an eyebrow at what Quinn said next. Nothing on Slytherin? Only because all other teams played fair where Slytherin did not. Did he really think that she was stupid? Okay, dumb question, of course he did. He also thought that she had tampered with his broom long enough so that he would get smashed by a couple of bludgers. If you don't wanna be hit, then don't play the game. Even Lyc herself has broken bones thanks to a bludger attack, but she didn't blame anyone for it.

"Honestly Grey, we play fair, so of course we have nothing on you." She spoke with such innocence in that statement it would almost be like a mother telling her child why they shouldn't try to jump off their room and spread their wings to fly. She then laughed. Slytherin...a good team. That was comical.

"You know what. Your right." Lyc started. She grinned. "I know nothing about good teams. You know why that is? Because mine is great. I almost feel bad for you being only on a good team. Almost." She smirked then. This was definatly going to turn into something quickly. She slowly moved her leg into a better position to grab her wand out.

That thought was exciting. A duel in the air. Boy would they get into so much trouble if caught. Heck, they would probably end up having to serve detention together. She scrunched her nose at that thought. Several hours stuck by his side doing who knows what who knows where. That would be torturous. Lyc quickly remembered what she was doing and focused her brain back to the situation at hand.

Why did he not understand that Lyc was not the type of person to tamper with a broom? Of course it was just because she was the one that grabbed the quaffle after he let it go, and therefor became the target. "Really, all of this hatred because of a couple of bludgers getting you when you weren't paying attention. Get over it, that was years ago."

((sorry its short, I'm at a loss))

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

The Slytherin nudged his broom into a slight crawl towards the girl with his arms still folded across his chest, his eyes narrowing slightly but his expression otherwise imperceptible. He turned his head away from her at an acute angle, though his steely blue eyes remained upon Lycoris’ face with scrutiny lingering about the hard look. Although their relationship had been firmly established since the first moment they had entered into each other’s spheres of existence, Quinn couldn’t help but evaluate the Ravenclaw upon every meeting with her – querying exactly what direction the conversation would go in, which role he would play to best get under the skin of the girl who so frequently appeared unshakable. Even though the twitch towards her wand had been small, it was still telling of many things that she was trying to hide: for example, even though she had been the one to initiate contact with Quinn, she was still on the defensive – highlighting insecurity and uncertainty. He supposed she could just have been waiting to see which cards he was going to play, speaking volumes of her adaptability (for which he had to give her credit) and boldness; although it did remain that she did know him just as well as he knew her by this point.

“Juvenile?” he huffed lightly, eyebrows raising and eyes flickering from her but returning almost instantly, “Somehow I think that a juvenile trying that would end up in the ground.” A cruel twitch of a smile briefly alighted on his lips as he realised the double meaning that could be appointed to his words. “I’m hurt though, that you wouldn’t cry if I died,” he wiped away an imaginary tear, the mocking turn of sadness playing across his expression, “And here I was thinking you were a polite and caring thing...” He sniffed with a little disdain, halting his progress towards her at 2 meters or so and placing his hands now onto his thighs.

He scoffed. Oh here we go... He rolled his eyes obviously. “Yeah, yeah. Slytherin are cheats, the evil bastards. Punish them, ban them... Yeah, change the record why don’cha?” he retorted with bite, the sneer heavy on his tone even if he hadn’t actually raised his voice in protest. He levelled his gaze upon her again, not enjoying the condescension that he was picking up in her tone. He despised being tarred with that old brush; whilst he was quite willing to admit that his House did not have the best reputation (and he himself knew that he was doing nothing to remedy this stereotype), it was ludicrous to continue with the ideas that were perpetuated during the Dark Lord’s 2 assaults on the Wizarding world. Slytherins were not inherently evil – Machiavellian, cunning and ambitious yes, but to throw the accusation that an entire grouping of people based on disputable evidence amounted to little more than slander. “Can’t be playing that game now can we.” he reasoned, seemingly taking the adult route instead of arguing, “By that merit, all Ravenclaws would have to be intelligent – and I think present company,” he motioned to Lycoris, reverting back to previous form, “proves that not to be the case.” He shrugged in mocking apology.

He shook his head, dismissing her claims of who was better than who, the bias involved invalidated that whole argument – he would let the matches be the decider of that particular strain of conversation. His lip curled slightly however as she baited him about their first meeting, clearly knowing what she was doing and how big a source of contention that it was, and he couldn’t help but rise to that argument, “You can claim you’re innocent all you want, and get away with it because of all this,” he brandished and arm in her direction, motioning up and down her form in reference to the angelic appearance. Realising his temper however, he withdrew from further comment in such a direction, instead reverting back to far-too-slick-to-be-serious replies. “Really, I think you just want some of my attention. I mean, I don’t blame you, I can see where you’re coming from... dunno how you live with being the little plain old Jane...” Again he turned away from her slightly as he let the sentence hang in the air between them, watching her in his peripheral vision now.

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: seven-two-five.
NOTES:: don't worry about it, i realise i didn't make an interesting premise.
MUSIC:: closer to the edge - 30 seconds to mars.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.

[lycoris faith sunders]

Cori watched the movement of his broom closer to hers, and she manuvered slightly to accomodate. Did she move back? Not at all, she just adjusted her position so that she would not strain her neck trying to get a good view of him. She also re-evaluated the situation again. She was the one who began the conversation this time. She, in one respect, had the upper hand because of it. She was prepared, while he was, in a way, ambushed. He seemingly thought that he was on his own, and she came along and took that away from him. It was probably best for her though, she knew just how tough Quinn could be. They were actually quite similar in that respect. sure, Lyc typically stayed away from fights, but it was rather hard to stay away from them with Quinn. Both were passionate about the sport of Quidditch, and she wondered just how long it would last.

A small smile twitched across Lyc's face at the statement of a juvenile trying the dive and ending up on the ground. so try was that statement, but she wouldn't admit it to Quinn. "Your not at all hurt. You and I both know that the same would be reciprocated if it were me and not you." She gave a short nod, a smirk twitching the corner of her lips. "Towards you? You have got to be kidding, after all you put me through?" She gave a short laugh, noticing that his broom had stopped a mere two meters away. Close combat it was then.

Cori gasped in mock shock. "So you admit that slytherin's are cheats. If only I had proof of this, I would be a hero for the rest of the houses." She shook her head happily at the thought. of course, there was no one else around to hear the truth coming from a Slytherin's mouth, but oh well, she had her memories of this moment. Her eyes hardened upon Quinn as he spoke about Ravenclaws being intelligent, excluding present company, meaning her. wow, sinking further into the house rivalries. Though, she did bring that one upon herself, in a way. "Fortunatly for you, I am choosing to be the bigger person and ignore that comment. Because we both know who the intelligent one is in this company." She paused, then continued. "considering I am not the one with a death wish."

Lycoris noted how Quinn had avoided her comments about who was best. True, that was better left for the game itself, but she half wished that there was a response from him about it. True, each team was biased towards their own teams, and Cori was not exactly above that. She knew her team was good, but they have also had their losses, as any good team does. She boiled it down to the hatred she felt towards Quinn in this instant. Lyc watched as he motioned towards her appearance in response to her innocence. If only he knew. "I get away with it because I'm not a slimey git. I'm honest with people, which you seem to lack most of the time."

She laughed at his next comment. Her, wanting his attention? "Don't flatter yourself. The whole world does not revolve around you ya know." she shook her head and sighed "You're all alike. Its always about you, not about someone else." She found it rather difficult to not comment about the 'plain old Jane' comment, but she was not going to let him crack her on that one. She could feel her blood boil beneath her skin, and took a long, slow breath to calm herself. Soon enough, she would crack, but she hoped that he would crack first.

((lol, my word count just can't compare, dumb teachers making me write short papers -shakes fist-))

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

“Au contraire!” he rebutted, a look of hurt on his face that was so very obviously sarcastic that he couldn’t maintain it for more than the shortest amount of time that it would be required to get his point across. “I’d be crushed! Not in the same way as you of course,” he continued along the lines of the pun, his monitoring of her expression catching the flicker of a smile before it had evaded her lips, “but all the same. I’d get the black robes out, deck the halls in flowers and write a touching eulogy that would bring everyone to tears at its beauty...” he trailed off, flippant tonality destroyed with the look that he levelled on the Ravenclaw – despite how funny his irony could have been, to laugh at it at that point seemed like suicide, such was the darkness in his glower. He paused then, allowing the silence to grow – he wondered if it was the gaps in their “conversations” that was the real cause of escalating tensions between them, the insults themselves were petty and forgettable with little actual content; as compared to the looks they threw each other, which spoke volumes more.

Quinn refolded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow raised in disbelief at Lycoris’ understanding of his sarcastic agreement with her regarding his Quidditch team. Ravenclaws may have been smart (regardless of what he would say to the girl, of course he knew that she was intelligent) at least it seemed where books were involved; seemingly she had missed the entirety of his irony – obviously he would have to try harder. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her retort to his jibe about her intelligence, it was one thing to ignore a subject entirely but it was quite another to explicitly say that you wouldn’t answer and take the holier-than-thou approach – Quinn, having an answer or bluff for everything as he did, couldn’t help but feel this was for lack of ability to reply. Or maybe she really was just above it; it was hard to tell when judging against his own standards. “I’m crushed.” he replied simply to the jibe about his intelligence, taking a look around again.

That was the trouble with a rivalry that was built on so little. Fun as it was to maintain such arguments and to irritate those who were irritating themselves (in his eyes at least), to pick up on those little things that people hope go unmissed in their everyday mannerisms and give them hell for them. It never failed to bring a smirk to his face when their faces fell and they looked like goldfish, opening and closing their mouths with no words forthcoming, beaten by cool logic. This situation was tricky though, Lycoris did have high enough levels of intelligence that she didn’t get so easily flustered as – say - a Gryffindor would have, and so the Slytherin had to tread more carefully around her, not to give away too much of himself that the situation might reverse itself and Quinn may find himself on the wrong end of some ridicule. Besides that, there was nothing too telling about her, nothing to pick-up on and exaggerate; she was decidedly average in his company, the perfect archetype of a Ravenclaw in most all facets. Although, Quinn was hard lined to the grapevine of gossip that existed within the school, very few things that were interesting went unnoticed by him, he liked to be in the know. He knew that she had problems with her family, but then again it seemed that most people did – it was almost an entry requirement for attending Hogwarts it seemed – and he didn’t have enough information to flaunt this to her yet.

Time was not yet against them, still a good portion of the morning before any classes were called for and until more students would venture down towards the pitches in their free time (many with hopes of spotting the new flying Professor out and about, teaching a class or simply out for a fly) or for a class itself. It could be interesting, a mid-air battle of some sort with spectators – he wondered then if he could market it in some way, but dismissed such thoughts as the girl’s words recalled his attention. “No one else is lookin’ out for me; if I don’t I’m screwed.” his statement was fact then, flat and simple. “Been keeping tabs on me though?” a smirk again tugged at his lips, “Make it your business to know about me? Who I’m with? What I’ve been doing? Hmm?” he goaded, a flirty intonation on his voice (which still remained mocking however, yet held the promise that if she did respond this would drop).

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: eight-oh-one.
NOTES:: feel free to make something happen. i was going to here but i realised my post was already pretty long.
MUSIC:: got a lot to say - the ramones.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.

[lycoris faith sunders]

Lycoris listened to his words carefully. He'd be crushed, he'd write a eulogy, at least she knew how much of a lie that was to not get sucked into it as some girls would. Then again, if other girls had this kind of hate towards someone, they may not get wrapped in the lies as well. maybe only if there were a past romance between the two would they get wrapped up. "Deck the halls with flowers? You sound like a bad Christmas song." She said, shaking her head in disbelief. If there were any thought in her mind that he would thinks he believed any of this, well, that would be interesting. She eyed him up, sitting there at the two meter mark, just thinking about which spell to throw that would knock him off his broom and shooting towards the ground. Could she really pull off that first spell?

Cori began to mentally go through a list of spells in her mind, deciding which one would be best. Could use Rictusempra, tickle him to his doom. Though she really did not with so have a death on her hands. Maybe shoot a bunch of birds at him with Avis? Nah, that could distract him too much and he still may fall. Could use Confundus and just confuse the poor guy. Simpler still, she could solve most of her problems, as long as she saw his wand, and just disarm him with Expelliarmus. She continued to throw spells around in her mind, debating which would be best for this situation. They were quite high in the air, and she really did not wish him death, at least, by her hands. He thoughts were broken by the sound of his voice saying he was crushed. As if. Honestly, did he think her that dumb? "Yes, crushed like a crab under a rock." She shook her head, knowing very well that it took much more than a simple comment to crush this particular boy, just like a crab could live happily under a rock.

Truth be told, Cori really hated these fights. She just wasn't the fighter type, never had been. Something about Quinn Grey brought out the worst in her though. Quite probably because of certain resemblances to her family, but also quite possibly because of his ability to hold a grudge over nothing but an accident. She shook her head, thinking once again of that fateful Quidditch match where their rivalry started. It was so simple, but it almost seemed like the rivalry was now for fun, and not because of bludgers. She even, somewhat, enjoyed these confrontations. It was almost something to look foreward to in the day, it just wasn't complete without some form of snide comment from Quinn. It was rather sad actually.

Cori rolled his eyes at the boy infront of her. As if she was keeping tabs on who he was doing, and who he was with at any given point in the day. She noted the slight bit of flirt in his voice and raised an eyebrow. Really? Resorting to flirting now? "Need to keep your confidence boosted then? Can't function unless you keep your ego up past your head?" She sighed, debating on whether it was worth the breath to continue on with that conversation or not. "Your not getting anywhere with that voice," she said dryly, just about to crack.

Was it worth it to wait anymore? Could she wait any longer? Better yet, did she want to wait for him to throw the first spell? That was where this was headed now, hands down. She quickly made up her mind. It was not worth the wait. Either she would be caught ungaurded, or he would be. Quite frankly, she would rather not be the one caught unguarded. In one swift movement her hand went to her leg, grabbed her wand, and before her brain fully reacted to the whole thing she had her wand pointed at Quinn, the word "Confundus" spilling out of her mouth. Aparently she did not need to decide which spell to use, it just seemed natural. Bring on the detention! She thought afterwards, hoping that they would be alone long enough to have this situation resolved before anyone came out to the pitch. Especially a professor.

((and let it begin ^^))

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

The jinx hit him square in the chest; he hadn’t seen that one coming. Forgetting where he was momentarily, his balance waivered and caused him to tumble backwards, off over the brush end of his broom and into the ether. He was lucky however, it seemed the Lycoris had only intended for this momentary confusion – rather than having doomed him to an extended period of time under the influence – allowing him to collect his thoughts fast enough to withdraw his own wand from the pocket down his thigh, point it at his broom and shout “Accio!” with only slightly more panic in his voice than he would have liked to have admit to. It was further luck that he knew to do this, ironically the whole diving stunt provided him with need to have perfected this particular spell, and the movement required for himself to get back on the broomstick (although he’d never fallen so far nor in so uncontrolled a manner before). The broom zoomed down towards him, half the distance to the ground now covered by the boy; Quinn swinging his leg over the body and righting himself head above body.

The speed he carried was too great however, even his quick thinking of summoning the broom not saving him from a crash landing. He ploughed into the ground, like an airplane going too fast trying to land, gouging out a deep trench of dirt and grass along the previously immaculate pitch (all nicely finished for the start of the year and the new Quidditch season. He grunted in pain as his shoulder impacted the ground (having rolled sufficiently to the side so as not to break his broom (a broken arm could be fixed much more quickly than a new broom could be procured!)), gritting his teeth against the audible groan that he heard his bones as a collection give. Again he flipped, rolling several times over before coming to a stop on his back some ways away from being below the Ravenclaw. He felt battered and bruised, but nothing felt like it had shattered as he gave each of his fingers a wiggle around the wand still clutched in his grasp against his chest. He heaved a sigh of relief, a small smirk lingering about his expression as again his adrenaline was going, though quickly this was replaced by a frown – she had jinxed him!

He pushed himself roughly up to his feet, a little too quickly perhaps as he winced upon putting pressure down on his left leg. Pointing upwards, he fired off a spell of his own – less likely to hit her as he squinted against the bright cloud and at such a distance – “Flipendo!” Two could play at knocking each other out of the sky. Grimacing with the pain of it, he ran as he cast the spell, headed for his broom – which he snatched up in passing – and took straight back to the sky again (if they were going to duel then they would do it on equal terms). If anything was broken, it would have to wait, and at least this way he had his weight off of his injured leg.

He circled around and headed for her, zigzagging his way in her direction, he wasn’t going to be caught out by another jinx or curse – he was only fortunate to have been hit by a rather mundane jinx (he wondered briefly the extent of her cursing knowledge – surely someone so intelligent would have a good grasp of both pleasant and not-so-pleasant spells, but the question was would she be willing to use them). He supposed in his case, regardless of her normal rules considering firing spells at people, he would be treated to the full array of her talents. Wonderful.

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: six-three-oh.
NOTES:: yeah this was awful, i was at a gig and am tired; just wanted it done though.
MUSIC:: 1985 - bowling for soup.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.

[lycoris faith sunders]

Lycoris watched as her jinx hit square on. A wicked grin crossed her face, proud that she had hit her mark. She watched as he flew around helplessly for a few moments, her grin growing in size. He wasn't confused for long though, that wouldn't have been very fair. Soon enough he realized what was happening and summoned his broom back to him, moments too late though. By the time he had his broom he was too far down to pull out.

Cori watched, and cringed, as Quinn hit the ground. Sure, she was quite happy about that fact, serves him right, but she did not particularly like watching someone crash to the ground. She had the right mind to fly down and help him, but that would only be bad for her.

Sure enough, Quinn recovered. She watched him stand up and point his wand towards her. Cori prepared for the worst, you know, crucio or something along those lines, and tried to keep moving around so he couldn't get a good target. However, her manuvering was in vain. His spell hit her square on as well, and she was knocked backwards off her broom.

Lycoris was in shock. He had managed to hit her while she was moving around. He was probably in pain too, that fall looked horrid. She felt the wind whipping around her body as she flew, trying to gain her focus back enough to summon her broom towards her.

Cori recovered very quickly, and soon enough she had her wand ready and shouted "Accio broom!" Like normal it only took a few moments for her broom to zoom back to her. By this time Quinn had recovered and was flying back up into the air. She eyed him, and pointed her wand towards him. "Everte Statum" Lycoris wondered just what the outcome would be of this battle. Would she be the one in the hospital wing, or would he? It was really hard to tell. The biggest difference was not in the amount of spells each knew, it was which spells they would choose to use.

After the spell was shot off Cori began to fly back towards where the duel was 'taking place.' She did not want to put herself at a disadvantage, and not being able to hear what spells were being sent her way through the wind would be a bad thing. She like to be prepared, and at least through hearing the spells you may be able to sheild yourself against them.

((sorry its short, I think i covered everything. i just got back a while ago from my trip and I'm falling asleep, lol.))

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

He stabilized his flight as his spell reached the Ravenclaw, wanting to get full appreciation of the impact – well the impact that he hoped to observe. Her flip was impressive, he wondered if he had fallen with as much style as she was – although he supposed his hair would have looked less artistic in its inability to whip around him in a halo. What he did not find so impressive was her utter plagiarism of his self-rescue; although, he would admit to himself but no one else, he really couldn’t think of a more reliable way to do it – even if it hadn’t entirely worked out for his purposes, he hadn’t died that was the main thing. But neither had she, which was somewhat irritating (Quinn didn’t like to be beaten at his own game, which she had just done by skimming the ground rather than smacking into it). He wondered if she would have thought of such a rescue if he hadn’t done it first – his guess was yes, but still the possibility remained that she wouldn’t have, something which the Slytherin couldn’t but help feel a little smug about; sure that she wouldn’t like to admit to having even unintentionally copied him.

As soon as she had completed the bottom of her dive though he jerked into action again, knowing that her recovery had been faster than his and so the next spell to be thrown in his direction would be mere seconds away. He too was having trouble hearing exactly the words being spoken and so pre-determining the spell that was being cast (his mind raced for a spell that would solve this, but none came to mind that would improve his hearing). He grit his teeth together as he arced through a turn, his shoulder complaining loudly in its socket at the pressure being placed upon it – he just thought himself lucky that it wasn’t his casting arm – rounding to find himself flying straight at Lycoris. “Incarcerous!” he shouted on reaction, barrel-rolling to avoid the shot fired by the Ravenclaw.

He shoulder throbbed painfully again, making him lose grip on his broom, Quinn shooting his dueling arm down to catch onto the handle and forcing him into an inelegant completion of what would otherwise have been a textbook Quidditch move. He cursed silently, flexing and contracting his left fist and bicep to try and numb the pain at least a little and push it to the back of his mind until the duel was over. Of course, this was something that he was already probably doing, the adrenaline surging around his veins and his competitive streak well and truly on show, a thought which caused another stab of pain to shoot across his scapula. Tentatively, he replaced his left hand upon the handle, hoping that the majority of his steering could be done by his knees and that it would only be required very minimally for balance (he was a good flier, but he didn’t know if he was that good to manage to dodge all of her attacks in such a manner).

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: five-one-seven.
NOTES:: yeah during a duel it's difficult to write alot since you need to wait for a lot of responses...
MUSIC:: mountains - biffy clyro.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.

[lycoris faith sunders]

Lycoris kept a watchful eye on Quinn, counting in her mind the amount of time it should take for her spell to impact him. One, two thre... She counted as she flew closer to him, being sure to keep behind the path of the spell so as not to intercect it with her own body rather than his. She chanced flying with one hand for a few moments to push her hair that had managed to come free back out of her line of sight, the better to see Quinn.

Four, five, six.... She continued counting, getting closer with each second. She noticed his lips moving as he did a barrel roll out of the tragectory of her spell. She silently cursed, trying to think of another way to say a spell without his notice. She wished that she could just think a spell and send it off, making a mental note to look into that. "Protego" She said softly, figuring that his spell that she figured was being sent should be impacting at any moment. Sure enough, she felt the pressure of the spell impacting her sheild, and she smirked. Quick thinking was a good trait to have.

Within seconds she had spoken her next spell "Expelliarmus!" Her reflexes to disarm her opponent surprised her. She had not been one to find herself in many duels, being as she did not like to fight, but she knew what to do.

She watched as he faltered in exiting his barrel roll, and let a laugh escape her lips. She was close enough now that at a yell Quinn would be able to hear over the sound of the wind "Seems you fail at more than landing skills." Another wicked grin crossed her face at that statement, knowing perfectly well that Quinn should be in pain and that was probably the reason. She had, after all, seen a barrel roll performed by him in Quidditch matches in the past, but she just couldn't help herself at that point.

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

He squinted up to follow the path of the magical ropes that twisted through the air like hunting snakes towards the Ravenclaw, not entirely surprised that they missed her by a stretch – he knew that he had pulled the spell off to the left as it had left his wand, her shield had almost been entirely pointless and served only to deflect their path from her proximity rather than actually prevent a collision of spell and student. Still, he cursed through his teeth, swooping around to round on Lycoris again; they were almost like jousters, headed for an impact, passing each other and turning to head straight back into the fray, except their horses had no hooves and the penalty for getting hit was much worse than some bruising or a broken ankle.

Shifting his position upon his broom slightly, wedging his legs between the stirrups by the broom’s tail and in the contour of the handle (intended more for aerodynamic purposes rather than any sort of purchase, the dark polished wood slick with wax not willing to provide very much friction against which his knees could act) he bent closer to the stick, lessening the target area that the female student had to work with, and sped up – most likely a foolish idea when he did only have one hand (well closer to half really) to work with. If it came to it he supposed he could just give her the run around, forget about retaliatory spells and simply zip around as he would if one arm was occupied by the Quaffle, he could dodge attacking Chasers and bludgers well enough so what really was the difference of a spell? He didn’t want it to come to that though, it was tantamount to defeat in his eyes: no, he wouldn’t be satisfied until she was disarmed or on the run (and “evil” as he was perceived he would much rather that it did not come to having to fetch a professor to scrape what remained of one of his year mates from the grass).

Not that he supposed he would be the one to have to inform anyone of anything – it seemed that the castle was slightly more awake now, those early birds having had their breakfast out for a pre-lesson stroll or those who skipped the meal entirely and just wanted away from everyone else for a while. In the corner of his eye he briefly caught the motion of a small huddle of spectators in the stands, perhaps three or four of them; though year, house or even gender he couldn’t have told you, nor whether they would be sympathetic to his cause of Lycoris’. It seemed to him that they were a little enraptured with the aerial battle, not particularly willing to run to a teacher and have it all end before the climax, but one never could tell – hell, maybe someone had already run off and they were about to be dragged back down to earth by a well placed retrieval spell. He didn’t want to check either, intent on not giving away an inch of sky to the Ravenclaw.

He had to gain back the advantage, and short of physical injury or removing her broom, the only thing he could do would be to disarm her. Breaking the rules of a standard duel he shot off another spell in those nano-seconds that it had taken Lycoris to recover from her own shield. “Expelliarmis!” he shouted, not giving heed to the fact that they were close enough that his spell could be heard (he had figured she had a spell on the tip of her tongue anyway – not that he had heard it during his own call – and wouldn’t have time to jump back to defence after her offence).

His fingers clutched at the air though, stupidly groping in the space where his wand had been as if it had become only momentarily intangible and not in fact having left his grasp entirely. Surely he hadn’t done that himself with his own spell? No. He cursed again, this time more audibly – a weakness that he inwardly chided himself for as he regretted showing that hint of anger immediately – as he grew even closer to his opponent. He snarled back at her quip, “Lucky shot was all.” he said in reference to her first hit, “You Ravies are good at relying on that rather than pure skill when it comes to flying and the likes!” Keeping his acid tongue despite having lost his wand - well, at least now he didn’t feel so bad about using his uninjured arm for steering – he darted downwards, his mobility and cornering notably improved instantaneously, with eyes searching for his wand. God, where’s a Seeker when you need one... he inwardly growled.

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: eight-oh-two.
NOTES:: apologies for the sparse replies! uni is killer at the moment, will be the same for this coming week too i think, sorry.
MUSIC:: n/a.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.

[lycoris faith sunders]

Lycoris watched the flurry of events happening all at once. The ropes which she had blocked, Quinn and her changing positions in the air, and the people appearing down below. Wait, what? People appearing. This could not be a good sign. That meant that people were alive enough to notice exactly what was happening in the air above the Quidditch pitch. Which also meant that there was probably going to be some professors showing up as well to gather students for such classes as flying, or herbology, or care of magical creatures. All of these classes meant that there were going to be tons of people outside to realise exactly who was in the air, and also realize that the two students were fighting, and one wrong move could mean death.

Cori chanced a quick look around at some of the crowds of gathered people. There were quite a number, though from such a height it was rather difficult to tell just who each person was, be it a Slytherin or Gryffindor, male or female, or even if they were in the second or sixth year. They all looked the same at this point, but then again, when going as fast as she was most things did. The only thing that was not blurred was her opponent. It was like a movie. The focus was not on the surroundings, but on the one single person that mattered at that point.

She hadn't even been paying full attention to him for a few moments, and was quite surprised that she still sat atop her broom. His crystal clear voice is what brought her back, with his shout of the disarming spell she had used. The look on his face was priceless when he realized what had happened. She listened as he cursed, and watched his face turn to anger. A smirk crossed her face at his retort. Lucky shot, as if. She aim was true, just as if she was throwing the quaffle into one of the rings to score a point for her team in a game. Just then he darted downwards, in search of his wand.

Lycoris was not about to let him do anything to her once Quinn found his wand once more, so she darted after him. She had an advantages though, as long as he didn't have his wand. Lycoris could simply summon the wand to her. That seemed rather unfair though. She leaned down on her broom with a smirk, gaining speed to catch up with Quinn. "Give it up Grey, your snide remarks and wandlessness will not allow you to win this." She sped past him then, looking in the direction she figured the wand had flown.

Things had happened rather quickly, either that or Cori just did not pay enough attention. She should have though, that way she could have flown exactly in the direction of the wand, and most probably get to it before Quinn did. Her eyes scanned around frantically, half expecting the wand to be either nearing the ground or on the ground by now. Not desiring to impact with the ground as Quinn had before she lessened the angle of her drop, still heading in the general direction of the wand.

((s'all good, I have a paper due on wednesday, and I'm proobably gonna give up my comp for a few days so that I can get the spyware out. And do we want to ask Ringer if he can pull Syloh in after a few more posts? catch them sorta thing?))

[quinn bernard grey]

MR. Q. B. GREY___________

He let her overtake, not even deigning to dignify her with an answer to her jibe – whilst he was quite capable of spitting off another remake dripping with its usual sarcasm and venom, it seemed a pointless exercise and waste of his breath. Not only would it serve no purpose other than to insight another bland and pointed comeback; but it was true, weaponless the only thing he would be able to resort to was physical tackles and dodging – man of dishonour that he was, he wasn’t going to stoop to such levels as giving a girl a kick in the ribs or punch in the face. So he kept searching, keeping a slightly higher perspective on things (just like he had heard his Seeker being told to do during so many training sessions) than the Ravenclaw, his sharp steely eyes darting back and forth in pattern as not to miss one blade of grass. His wand did have to be made of ebony, of course, a most difficult colouration to see against the grass – not like beech or hickory which would have been visible from their prior location without much hassle. He just hoped that he was only looking for one longer bit of wood and not a couple of shorter splinters.

In the periphery of his vision he could see Lycoris, not having more luck than he was, darting about on her alternate strategy. Well, hopefully not having more luck than he was, rather than hanging back laughing at him and waiting until he noticed this before swooping in and claiming ultimate humiliation along with his wand. He wondered if she would sink to such levels, after all good girls didn’t do things like that, they played fairly and kept to the rules of the game to the last detail. But neither did they engage in physical or verbal sparring, he wondered quite how much of her personality was just an act, a facade to fool the masses into thinking her harmless before striking them down with whatever method she had prepared.

He changed tactics, the wand too small a stationary object to see from such height; falling into a fast and loose spiral towards the ground – covering enough distance to see a large area, yet at slow enough a speed that his eyes could catch the details of the ground. Another glance in her direction, frown of concentration upon his features with a snarl still drawn across his mouth, he wouldn’t let her best him – he would pull out all the stops before defeat. The broom flew smoothly now as he cruised the less turbulent air of the lower stadium, his speed ever increasing as he drew closer to the ground, no chance of a crash happening this time.

The wand had landed point downwards into the soft sediment of the pitch, sticking up at a 60 degree angle much like an arrow that had fallen from the sky after being shot from a bow. His eyes caught the glint of light off of the dark handle. There was a gap of maybe 100 metres or so between himself and the wand, perhaps a little less to Lycoris; but he had the element of surprise, by adding in her reaction time it seemed the prize was fair game for either. He shot forwards, body pressed flat against the broom handle and blatantly ignoring the scream of pain that lurched through his shoulder as he had shifted position. Locking his rotator cuff muscles around the injured joint, he rested the crook of his elbow against the broom and lined up his forearm with the wood, giving maximum contact and support to the left side of his body, and prayed that it would be sufficient to combat the damage that he had clearly done; other arm poised to shoot out and grab the wand at the last second, he wouldn’t give away its location with that rookie mistake. She was too late anyway. He had it in his grasp, fingers locked tight around the wood. Yet he continued onwards, looking as if he hadn’t already collected the target and was still in full hunt mode.

With as much subtlety as he could muster, he repositioned himself for a quick twist, simultaneously bracing himself for the protests which his shoulder was about to make. He would have to be accurate and pin-pointedly so to hit where he needed to for his next move to work and end the game sooner rather than later. “Aresto Momentum” he cast in a more subtle voice than before, aiming precisely for Lycoris’ broom rather than the girl herself – hoping to have the effect of halting her ride whilst bucking her off as she continued ( close enough to the ground now that serious injury was all that was likely, rather than reduction to jam).

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: eight-one-zero.
NOTES:: yep, seems like a plan, you want to reply to this then have syloh come in? or whatever suits you really.
MUSIC:: bubbles - biffy clyro.
TAGGS:: ms. l. f. sunders.