exceptions to the rules [beth]

[Sampson Abernathy]

With the weather being so nice, it was almost hard for Sampson to not feel a bit cheery. He may have a reputation for being cold and sarcastic, but it was summer and Sampson always did like the nice weather. Fall had always been his favorite season of the year because he could wear pants and long sleeves without feeling too hot or too cold. Sampson never liked wearing shorts and those tank tops Gideon wears. It was one of the reasons Sampson hardly went outside and was the same color all the time. Gideon stood out in the summer next to him and Desmond because of his tan skin. Sampson couldn't be outside for too long before he began to sweat and he wasn't about to look like some hobo with shorts and no shirt no matter how good he looked without a shirt on.

Today was different. It was warm enough to be in his tan pants and his light denim long sleeves. Sampson had the sleeves rolled up at to his elbows and wore sandals. As much as he was against it, Sampson would let it go for today. He didn't think he looked like a total hippy if he wore some sandals. Sampson just hated to be mistaken for one of his brothers, that's all. They all looked a certain way and if Merlin forbid Sampson dressed down a bit, he'd be called Gideon or even Desmond. It was the most annoying thing ever. It was days like those that he wished his brothers were either a younger or older sibling instead of bloody triplet brothers. Damn genetics, Sampson thought.

Sampson had been wandering outside for most of the morning, but after lunch, he decided to head to the Quidditch Pitch to watch some of the players practice or just fly around. Sampson had no need to learn how to play Quidditch. He understood the concept and went to the games to cheer the few friends he had on the team, but never in a million years would Sampson get on a broom. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights, it's just that Sampson didn't like the idea of falling off his broom hundreds of feet up in the air. Just imagining the thought of falling to his death made his skin grow goosebumps. Instead, Sampson preferred to sit on the stands. He leaned back and kicked off his shoes. Going barefoot was nice when he got the chance. Sampson crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes wander back and forth between players.

tag; beth
notes; later than i anticipated, but the internet wasn't working yesterday

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[beth spencer']

Her hair whipped out behind her as she took a sharp left, her ankles right around her broom as her hands reached out for the quaffle. Once she felt it graze her fingertips, she leaned forward pulling it in close as she maneuvered quickly through the maze of brooms around her. Twisting beneath a fellow teammate she sped off in a straight line, leaving the other players straggling behind as she made her way towards the goal, her eyes carefully following the keeper. Beth dare not look behind her, but just assumed that all the players were close, allowing her to keep her attention focused ahead of her. As she was nearing the goal post her broom jolted suddenly at the impact of a teammate from the side, struggling to regain the quaffle. Beth cut far to the right and back towards the goals, throwing the quaffle as the keeper sped in from the highest hoop. She yelled out gleefully as the quaffle sped through the hoop, offering high fives to her teammates as they passed.

It wasn’t an official team practice, but a few of them had taken the warm weather as a first opportunity for practice. The pitch was littered with students, some working on their riding schools, while others like herself were taking advantage of the quidditch supplies. They’d settled into teams, playing everyone but the seekers for practice. Right, shall we go again? She called out, receiving several nods from her fellow players. The keeper took the quaffle and threw it far out into the pitch, causing a flurry of movement as all the chasers set out for the first capture. Beth stayed back, taking after the other players after they’d moved some way down the field – eyes constantly moving as she followed the motion of the quaffle. She’d made her way down the pitch, only for the quaffle to switch possession. She brought her eyes up just in time to see the quaffle hurtling in her direction, the other players quickly forming around her.

The quaffle had barely settled in her hands, when she felt a sudden bludgeoning in her side. The red leather ball fell from her hands, and she only managed to hold her grip on her broom. The broom hurtled sideway with the contact of the bludger, sending her spiraling straight into the stands. Desperate Beth turned her broom in an upward direction, trying to miss the stands, but fell short as the bristles collided, knocking her grasp. She fell with a sudden crash, her hands just catching herself before she went face first into the stands, her broom falling to a clatter a little farther away. Bloody hell. She whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She had been playing quidditch for some time and she had never once fallen from her broom like that

She waved the other players away as they moved in close to check on her. I’m alright. She said, still managing a smile as she rubbed her hands at her knees, which had struck the wood in haste. I’m just going to sit it out a bit. Once she’d convinced them all that she was alright, she turned her attention back on the stands, looking for her broom. Beth spotted her broom, just as she shook her long mahogany locks over her ponytail, allowing them to cascade freely over her shoulders and there by her broom, was a boy. She climbed over the seats picking up her broom, grimacing at the state of it, it would definitely need some repair, before turning an embarrassed gaze on the male situated in the stands. I guess watching the sport can be nearly as dangerous as playing.. She said with a laugh, not entirely sure how to approach him. I promise I wasn’t trying to take you out with my broom.