Post by Marina Roeswood on Sept 6, 2004 19:35:16 GMT
A Nimbus 2000 wasn't the best broom in the wizarding world, but it was far better than the old Cleansweep 6 she used to have. Marina had decided against dressing entirely in her quidditch robes, but she still wore much of the protective gear over her school set. Arm guards, shin guards, and thick leather gloves completed what would be stopping a bludger from doing her severe bodily harm in what was seemingly going to be a solitary practice.
Nina had carefully checked over the schedules for practices, and when she arrived, the pitch was as predicted, quite empty. The trunk of quidditch balls was easy to find, and she quickly retrieved the beater club, taking a few practice swings while still on the ground. She needed to take it easy and build up her strength, though two bludgers should be no challenge provided that she kept track of them. All she had to do was make sure that she wasn't hit, because alone on the pitch, she'd be the only one to look out for. Perhaps Marina could have just gone with one, but she was feeling particularly daring today.
Quickly unlatching the trunk, she hopped onto the broom quickly, launching up into the air. She paused for just the briefest moment, revelling at the feeling of the wind in her hair, tied back into a tight severe ponytail that would most certainly let most of her hair stray by the end of the arduous practice she had planned for herself. Marina was just a bit out of shape from her lazyness over the summer and her reluctance to practice in the hot sun. Today was overcast, though the clouds were a light enough gray to ensure that it most likely wouldn't rain. Of course, practice in less than perfect conditions couldn't hurt. Last year the last game of the season had erupted into pouring rain. The loss of that game could have lost them the house cup by itself, so Nina wasn't going to shrug off practicing on her own.
She sensed a bludger approaching the back of her head, and she swung quickly on the broom, her bat held at the ready. Swinging solidly, she sent the ball a fair distance away, giving herself just enough time to dive to avoid being smacked in the shoulder by another. Swinging wildly, not feeling the fatigue that quickly overtook her mind and body, ignoring the burn of the lactic acid that was building up on her muscles. Contacting strongly with another bludger, she swooped suddenly upwards, doing a half-turn midair and putting her entire body weight behind the blow that sent the bludger reeling towards the other end of the goal posts. She imagined a Gryffindor knocked off their broom, and she hid a broad grin. The expression would have looked odd at the moment, below a forehead that had developed a fine sweat sheen, haloed by loose, softly waving sweat soaked locks that the potion had failed to keep in place. Her eyes, shining with manic glee, as she anticipated the approach of another bludger behind her, feeling it's presence, but playing chicken, daring it to try and hit her.
A last minute turn, another daring swing, a miss. Her face broke into a quick panicked look as she dove wildly, managing to catch herself a bit before the ground, cursing her recklessness and sobering as she waited for the mindless foes in the sky to come down after her. Breathless and sore, she'd be waiting for them...
Nina had carefully checked over the schedules for practices, and when she arrived, the pitch was as predicted, quite empty. The trunk of quidditch balls was easy to find, and she quickly retrieved the beater club, taking a few practice swings while still on the ground. She needed to take it easy and build up her strength, though two bludgers should be no challenge provided that she kept track of them. All she had to do was make sure that she wasn't hit, because alone on the pitch, she'd be the only one to look out for. Perhaps Marina could have just gone with one, but she was feeling particularly daring today.
Quickly unlatching the trunk, she hopped onto the broom quickly, launching up into the air. She paused for just the briefest moment, revelling at the feeling of the wind in her hair, tied back into a tight severe ponytail that would most certainly let most of her hair stray by the end of the arduous practice she had planned for herself. Marina was just a bit out of shape from her lazyness over the summer and her reluctance to practice in the hot sun. Today was overcast, though the clouds were a light enough gray to ensure that it most likely wouldn't rain. Of course, practice in less than perfect conditions couldn't hurt. Last year the last game of the season had erupted into pouring rain. The loss of that game could have lost them the house cup by itself, so Nina wasn't going to shrug off practicing on her own.
She sensed a bludger approaching the back of her head, and she swung quickly on the broom, her bat held at the ready. Swinging solidly, she sent the ball a fair distance away, giving herself just enough time to dive to avoid being smacked in the shoulder by another. Swinging wildly, not feeling the fatigue that quickly overtook her mind and body, ignoring the burn of the lactic acid that was building up on her muscles. Contacting strongly with another bludger, she swooped suddenly upwards, doing a half-turn midair and putting her entire body weight behind the blow that sent the bludger reeling towards the other end of the goal posts. She imagined a Gryffindor knocked off their broom, and she hid a broad grin. The expression would have looked odd at the moment, below a forehead that had developed a fine sweat sheen, haloed by loose, softly waving sweat soaked locks that the potion had failed to keep in place. Her eyes, shining with manic glee, as she anticipated the approach of another bludger behind her, feeling it's presence, but playing chicken, daring it to try and hit her.
A last minute turn, another daring swing, a miss. Her face broke into a quick panicked look as she dove wildly, managing to catch herself a bit before the ground, cursing her recklessness and sobering as she waited for the mindless foes in the sky to come down after her. Breathless and sore, she'd be waiting for them...