Eloise Anais Midgen (ellectric) wrote in riddikulus,
@ 2007-12-27 22:21:00

WHO: Eloise Midgen and Charles Vaisey
WHEN: Lunchtime
WHERE: Quidditch Pitch
SUMMARY: A random bump-in.
RATING: TBD?
WARNINGS: None as of yet!
STATUS: IP

Sharp but sure, the school bell rang to alert students of the impending lunch in the Great Hall. Where adolescents once lounged in the corridors, strolled through the gardens, or perhaps panicked in the library, most all of them gave into the blessed hymn that announced food was on the way. A strange hush overcame the campus during this time, at least for those who were not seated beside rowdy Housemates at their assigned tables, but Eloise found it quite therapeutic. It was not uncommon for her to forgo eating indoors for taking advantage of the empty pitch, as she had done on this day.

Thirty minutes after the bell first rang, Eloise emerged from the locker room with her blond hair damp and dripping onto her crisp white collar. Said collar, askew upon her neck, was crookedly fashioned due to inattentive fastening that married the wrong button with the wrong slit. But the girl was unaware -- as she typically was about such things -- though it might have been due to the thoughtful look that weighed upon her brow. Her limbs still moved with their jaunty swing, and her damp lips pursed with their usual whistle, but those that knew her knew there was something of heavier mien upon her mind. The source might be her face, which her fingertips absently touched upon with foreign curiosity. Indeed, the smoothness that it now showed was a recent event -- especially for those who had not seen her in the past few days.

Catching herself in this poor attempt at awkward vanity, Eloise flicked her hand away from her face and instead lowered it to its familiar place -- a thumb casually hooked into the band of her skirt. Now walking across the Quidditch field with a lazy, swinging gait, Eloise gave her broom a few light twirls in her hand, her agile fingers spinning it about, until poising the tip on her palm and attempting to walk with it balanced in the air. This of course ruined her straightforward stride and caused her to weave to and fro in order to keep the thing poised bristle-up, with her eyes narrowed and tongue emerging in concentration.

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vaisey
2007-12-28 08:43 am UTC (link)

Charlie ran his fingers though his hair as he walked out of the oak doors, his broom held to his right side. He hadn’t flown in what seemed like forever, and he was certain that if Madam Pomfrey caught him in his break for freedom she’d be less than approving. Charlie felt around the gash that was still very sore on the back of his head, frowning automatically when he thought of Goyle and his inability to aim a bludger properly. He’d been resting for five days, still lightheaded when he’d move to fast, and still queasy when he thought of who had found him sprawled out on the first floor. He gulped as the Quidditch pitch came into sight, and thought about Melanie Roberts, and the way she’d taken the owl he’d sent her earlier. He shook his head when he tried to think of another way things could have happened, and then started to smile as he thought about strangling Finch-Fletchley with his bare hands. It would be too quick with a wand, after all. He sighed when he knew that nothing would ever come to that, and his imagination was running wild again.

He switched his broom to his left arm as he thought about some way he could try to get Melanie to not like, no he wouldn’t dream of her liking him, but to at least not hate him. Charlie couldn’t stand it that she thought of him in such a manner.

It was relatively clear when he arrived to the Quidditch pitch, and flying was just what he needed to clear his thoughts. He looked around the grounds, and it was relatively clear since most of the student boy was at lunch. His stomach was aching for food since Charlie had missed breakfast that morning too. So much for walking all the way to the Owlery. Maybe a pop in into the kitchens after I’m done, he thought. Skipping meals was becoming a bad habit of his, and the house elves had begun to remember that his favorite dish was Sheppard’s pie.

He squinted as he saw a figure in the distance. He could just make out that the student was blonde, and attempting something with a broomstick. His stomach made an uncomfortable flip when he thought about spending time with anyone. Charlie had come to the Quidditch Pitch to try to get some time away from people. He debated on just mounting his broom and ignoring the fact that someone was there when he took another glance at the person, and noticed that it was Eloise Midgen.

Charlie immediately picked up his stride, another smile upon his face. He wanted to catch Eloise before she left, or something of the sort. They could talk about Quidditch, or maybe just keep each other company. It was easier to talk to Eloise than other girls, it might have been since they’d known each other for so long, or the fact that Eloise was a very good Quidditch player, or that he just felt comfortable around the girl.

“Eloise!” he yelled out, with a wave of his free arm, trying to get her attention. He covered what little distance there was left and walked up to her. He was still as shocked as the first day back, when he’d originally saw Eloise. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her before, in fact she’d been a very good friend and had never judged her by her acne, but it was just so blaringly different seeing her now. For some reason his stomach did another uncomfortable jump as he saw her, and he shook his head telling himself that it was just the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything.

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ellectric
2007-12-28 09:09 am UTC (link)

While Charlie agonized over Melanie, Eloise agonized over someone else completely. It was a fellow, firstly -- a fellow in her year, at that -- and someone she had known for quite a long time. There had been parties where they’d amused each other, and when they were older, heartbreak to be alleviated by playful words, self-deprecating goofiness, and promises of a less painful future; admittedly, Eloise had always been more of the shoulder in that regard. Her romances were few and fleeting, mostly marked by quiet pining, except for one steady relationship a year ago that ended badly. So is the life of a teenager!

Even now, as Eloise balanced the broom in hand, her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts carried, thinking about that particular friend who would, it seemed, always just be that -- a friend. But, as fate often does, it intervened with the arrival of just that young man.

Eloise!

The shout echoed across the large pitch, and Eloise, startled by the interruption, turned her face over her shoulder with a dumbfounded look. The broom that had been so carefully poised now flopped to the land in the grass, but the girl did not notice. No, the sight of Charlie inspired a large, amicable grin to rise, with just enough leverage to expose a hint of white teeth. Reining it in some, the look transitioned into something more light, but no less welcoming, and after crossing one foot in front of the other, she gave a playful turn to face him.

“Vaisey!” she called back, one hand lifting to wave as the other stooped downwards to recover her broom. “Dare to risk a boxing from Madame Pomfrey, eh? I don’t think you have it in you to take another beating, boy-o.”

Bouncing her brows in a playful fashion, she then propelled herself forward in order to meet him halfway. Upon coming close enough for contact, she slapped a hand playfully upon his shoulder and then slid it back so that her forearm was nonchalantly planted there, hand dangling. Tilting her head up to regard him from the slanted vantage of her eyes, she added with a mock conspiratorial whisper, “If I hadn’t gone on to clean myself up, I’d volunteer for the job myself.” Another grin, and another wink, before Eloise gave her broom a meaningful wiggle.

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