Coach Olivers
April 13, 2015 12:32 AM
Quidditch Game III: Teppalus vs. Aladren by Coach Olivers
Today was a match Florence was not particularly looking forward to seeing. It was clear that the combined Teppenpaw and Crotalus team was much less experienced than the dominating Aladren and Pecari houses. Though Aladren dominated almost every Quidditch match they played, Florence hoped they would show just a little mercy to the young first and second years. She doubted, however, that Anthony Carey would take that into consideration. No one could, after all, underestimate their opponent on the pitch no matter how young and inexperienced they were.The weather today was fair—slightly cloudy with a nice breeze that was strong enough to push the Snitch off course, but gentle enough to make no difference to a bludger. After the unpleasant weather in the last couple of matches, Florence was glad today was a pleasant day. She had never liked standing out in the rain even if it was to make sure those kids on brooms were playing safe. Dressed in black-and-white striped robes, much as a muggle referee would wear, she watched the players come onto the pitch. Once it was time, she pressed her wand against her throat and silently hoped Alistair was well enough to play.
“Welcome to the last match of the season,” she said, enunciating her words for everyone to hear and understand. “Here we have the combined Teppenpaw and Crotalus team led by co-captains Liac Reinhardt from Teppenpaw and Alistair Johnson from Crotalus facing off against Aladren led by Captain Anthony Carey. Captains, if you would please shake hands.
“When I blow my whistle, the game begins. The match ends when the Snitch is caught. Players, please take your positions.”
Once the players had mounted their brooms and the Keepers had flown to their respective positions, Florence released the Snitch and picked up the Quaffle. She put the silver whistle into her mouth and made brief eye-contact with the Chasers. After a moment, she blew her whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air. With the Quaffle now in action, she released the bludgers and took a step back off the pitch to watch the game progress.
The game had begun.
OOC: Two paragraphs minimum; creativity, detail, and realism will be rewarded. Make sure your names are colored according to your house and stick to the rules. Any questions, tag Coach Olivers on the OOC board. Good luck!
Subthreads: Flying right along by <font color=blue>Clark Dill, Seeker</font> with
Hoping this goes better by <font color=orange>Ginger Pierce, Keeper</font> with <font color='blue'>Theodore, Keeper</font>
Making the best of things. by <font color="orange">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font> with <font color='orange'>Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>, <font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>, <font color="blue">Captain Anthony, Chaser</font>, <font color=orange>Ginger Pierce, Keeper</font>
Ending the game by <font color=blue> Clark Dill, Seeker</font> with Coach Olivers
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Coach Olivers
Quidditch Game III: Teppalus vs. Aladren
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Coach Olivers
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<font color="orange">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>
April 14, 2015 8:18 PM
Making the best of things. by <font color="orange">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>
After Aladren won against Pecari almost as predictably as Pecari had against his team, Isaac had thought they would let the season end without attempting a championship. Even if they somehow lucked out and beat Pecari in a rematch, he assumed Crotalus and Teppenpaw would lose to Aladren the same way he assumed the sun would rise in the morning. The Aladrens were even less likely to be merciful than the Pecaris, and the Pecaris had been about as kind as his grandmother. The only thing that could be accomplished by making their ragtag bunch of misfits face Aladren was a fresh bout of humiliation. It wouldn’t be as bad as the first one had been, since Pecari couldn’t beat Aladren either, but the game was a path to certain humiliation nevertheless.It seemed, though, that the world had it out for them. Isaac tried to convince himself it was a kindness, a way to take some honor from Pecari, but he had never been good at thinking the best of people. It was more likely that the Headmaster was just bored and wanted something to point and laugh at. They could hardly do worse than they had the first time, but he didn’t really see them doing that much better, either.
The sight of the sun was slightly encouraging – they might even do a bit better than Pecari had against Aladren, which would really be a slap in the face to the Wild Boars after their loss; Isaac indulged for a moment in the fantasy of succeeding in that goal and writing a rude poem insulting Rupert Princeton and anonymously mailing a copy to everyone over breakfast tomorrow – but not enough to make Isaac smile like the good sport he wasn’t and very much never had been. Instead, he settled for watching first his captains, then the coach, and then the Aladrens with as little expression as possible.
Cringing in even more fear than he felt would have been smarter, made the Aladrens think even less of him than they should have, but there were limits, at least when he wasn’t in immediate physical danger, and Aladrens annoyed him at the best of times. They were, after all, very nearly the antithesis of his House and its ally with their independence and willfulness and such. He thought it would have made them a lot easier to view as enemies than just being Other would have – he could never see why outside sport teams had rivalries when there was no difference in them besides hometown and most of the players weren’t even from the places the teams were – even if his favorite sister hadn’t been one when she was in school, or even if he’d actually liked her.
Isaac still began, behind his calm mask, to feel a little sick all over again as the captains started to rejoin their teams and the beginning of the game loomed suddenly, after days of being a distant thing to dread, close. He thought frantically about how vulgar and repellant the Aladrens and their ideals were to try to give himself some sense of purpose and distract himself from the thought of imminent ritualized humiliation. It worked, and it took him a matter of seconds after kickoff to start thinking it had worked too well, because at the end of those seconds, he realized he had just thrown himself at the rising Quaffle and had somehow gotten his hands on it.
Dear mother, please don’t cry, I’m afraid I had to die….
Nope, no poetry for or about him. Clinging to his breakfast and the Quaffle both with his fingernails, he assured himself that they probably had the useless little Beater, the one who’d cheered all non-Aladren hearts when he played Chaser last year, down here anyway and flew toward the younger Wolseithcrafte as fast as he could, hoping it would take the Aladrens long enough to figure out what had just happened to at least let him get rid of the Quaffle.
When he saw the chance, he slowed enough to feel properly in control of the broom again and tried to draw closer to level – exactly level was just asking Underhill, or whatever his name was, to get lucky and hit one of them with a Bludger hard enough to knock him into the other guy and take them both out at once or something equally awful and improbable – with one of the other Chasers so he could pass. Biting his lip in worry and concentration, he threw the ball toward the chosen one and hoped for the best.
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<font color="orange">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>
Making the best of things.
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<font color="orange">Isaac Douglas, Chaser</font>
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<font color='orange'>Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>
April 15, 2015 1:23 PM
A much better start this time. by <font color='orange'>Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>
There was a part of Alistair that looked forward to playing against Aladren. It was good to physically be able to play again and to have the opportunity to show everyone that it took more than a nasty bludger injury to deter him from pursuing the sport he loved and leading his team to victory. Although victory was more something that Alistair dreamed about rather than hoped for because it was almost certain that Teppalus would lose today. Everyone knew it. Pecari had destroyed them before Christmas and there was no reason why things would not unfold in the same way against the Aladren team, if not worse considering the Aladrens long history of wins and their current selection of skilled, seasoned (and generally quite ruthless) players.Nonetheless, time had passed since the first match of term and Alistair liked to think the Teppalus team practices would pay off enough that this loss wouldn't be so brutal. Returning from the midterm break, Alistair had been out of condition and it had taken him a while before he had been able to even join in the team practices. Obviously, that didn't mean he hadn't gone to practices as he was, after all , the Crotalus captain (or rather, the Teppalus co-captain) and a dedicated one at that who liked to exercise his new authority by barking instructions at his team in a rather commanding manner that didn't suit his size or age but didn't seem at all funny to Alistair. He refrained, of course, from acting the same with Liac Reinhardt, who he had begrudgingly accepted to be on a authoritative level with. Isaac Douglas he also gave more respect, namely because the other Crotalus boy was considerably older and bigger than Alistair. He had enough faith in the fourth year that he tended to let Douglas do his own thing.
Determined to put up a better fight this time around, Alistair had been keen to schedule team practices as frequently as possible. Annoyingly, he had to allow for his team having other commitments (himself included) so they couldn't be held everyday. Even so, when he found himself with free time, Alistair would usually be in the MARS room practising alone or in the common room reading up on all elements of Quidditch, something he was already considerably read-up on anyway. He'd instigated contact with his former coach, Frances Curtis, for additional help with his captain duties, despite having decided he no longer required her tuition once he began at Sonora. After the Teppalus team's defeat last semester, Alistair had admitted to himself that he wasn't at all experienced in coaching (although he prided himself at being knowledgeable in the sport, enough to quickly become good at coaching it) and so was glad when Franki agreed to lend him a hand through letters whenever she could.
Asking for and accepting help was almost alien to Alistair Johnson but his determination to prove himself to all doubters overrode these, although he obviously kept his correspondence with his ex-coach strictly confidential. Since he had been allowed to play again, the first year had requested less advice from his former Quidditch tutor and was not quite so intense with the team practices as he had been before, more intent at this point on getting his own playing back up to scratch. Even now that his injury had made a near full recovery, he still had to pay a little extra care to his shoulder and make sure he warmed up and cooled down properly before exercise. Fortunately it was not his throwing arm that had been damaged as such a repetitive or forceful movement would not be wise.
The weather was good which made a nice change from the torrential downpour of the last match and set Alistair in a fairly optimistic mood. It would be far easier for his Seeker to spot the snitch and he felt that the chances of him not hearing or noticing an approaching bludger were slim. He still hasn't forgiven Rupert Princeton for that. Although he couldn't blame the Pecari captain for simply playing the game, he had found an personal dislike for the older student. Perhaps it was just because Princeton had made his first defeat all the more humiliating but it didn't help that the seventh was apparently dating a muggleborn, and Joella was always singing his praises.
As was the same with Pecari, the Aladren captain was a pureblood and as far as Alistair was aware the older player wasn't well-known as a 'blood traitor'. Alistair was very familiar with the name Carey and gave the opposing captain a firm handshake and a serious nod. He wasn't cold because it didn't do to act in such a way with older pureblood students of good status but wasn't friendly either because the first year could easily picture the Aladren team giving Teppalus a good thrashing in a few minutes, much as he was determined this shouldn't be the case. He didn't feel like smiling but doubted Anthony Carey would appreciate it if he did anyway.
Alistair grouped the Teppalus team together for a pep-talk, making sure to get in before Liac. "OK team, just remember everything we've done in practice and give it all you've got. The weather much better this time so we've got more of a chance," he tried to be vaguely inspiring as Franki had written about the importance of team morale and how it was a captain's job to maintain it. They were much better practised as a team than before and Alistair hoped that they wouldn't fall apart with pressure and that the rest of the school would be able to see their improvement as a team and be impressed. "Shinohara, you just focus on finding the Snitch."
He turned to Liac now, content that he had done the most part of the co-captain pre-game speech. In the last match he had picked Liac's cousin to mark Uzume but Liac was the better Beater and this time around the sky was clearer to see the Snitch so Alistair wondered if they should switch it up. Either way he wasn't particularly fussed, so long as both Reinhardts did their job and constantly distracted the Aladren players by sending unfriendly Bludgers their way. Although he didn't like sharing his captaincy, especially with someone like Liac Reinhardt, the first year felt he could rely on his co-captain to pull his weight on the Pitch.
Once Liac had given his own input, the team took to the Pitch. Alistair flashed Ginger Pierce one of his more charming smiles (not his usual smirk) as he mounted his broom near her. "Good luck," he said. It was important that she be confident in herself to keep positive so that her playing didn't go to pieces. Alistair planned to try his best to keep the Quaffle in Aladren's half but thought it was likely that Ginger would recieve a lot of shots from Aladren during the game. It couldn't be easy, having such pressure and the Pecari match must have been morally diminishing for her as shot after shot went in but Alistair appreciated the Teppenpaw girl's perseverance. Overtime he was very much doubting that she was of the respectable Pierces but liked her none the less.
The whistle went and the young Crotalus was up into the air. He was surprised to see Douglas soon making off with the Quaffle. It was a good start and would be even better if they could hold onto it. Alistair flew fairly parallel to the older player, some distance away but not too far that a pass would be difficult. He'd managed to get out of the initial struggle for the Quaffle fairly easy as, perhaps due to a slight worry for his recently healed shoulder getting knocked about, he had been hesitant to get in with the scrimmage. It was likely for this reason, and his speedy broom, that he was fast to find himself a good position, ahead of the Aladren Chasers.
Alistair was ready for Isaac's pass when it came and sped up immediately after catching it, hoping to get some way closer to the Wolseithcrafte boy before having to pass. When he did release the Quaffle again it was perhaps sooner than he usually would have done but Franki Curtis had drilled into him the benefits of being a 'team player' and his last run with the Quaffle in the Pecari-Teppalus game was still somewhat on his mind. When he noted another orange-robed Chaser in a good spot, Alistair neatly threw them the leather ball, hoping to avoid Aladren interception.
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<font color='orange'>Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>
A much better start this time.
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<font color='orange'>Ali Johnson, Chaser</font>
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
April 16, 2015 7:03 AM
It was nice while it lasted.... by <font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
Francesca was usually more excited than nervous before matches – sure, there was a little anticipation which worked itself up over breakfast, making her want to just be up in the sky already, and which got worse as the time until the match stretched out, running ever slowly. But it was more the edginess to be getting on with it than true worry, and it was left behind once she kicked off and had something to do. She could only hope the same would be true about today's nerves, which were worse than normal. Teppalus shouldn't have been a worry – they were an easy opponent on paper. But perhaps that was what bothered her... Losing to Pecari would be gutting, especially after their long winning streak, but losing to Teppalus would be utterly humiliating. However unlikely it was to happen, that fact remained and was bothering her.She made her way out to the pitch. The weather was about as perfect as could be for Quidditch – the breeze was refreshing but not too much of an interference. It might have affected the Snitch but Clark had never seemed to end up in all out races for the little gold ball anyway. If he did, she rather suspected it would be his broom that failed them, not a sudden puff of wind knocking the Snitch into the Teppalus Seeker's hand. She listened to Anthony's pre-match speech, trying not to really think of it as his last one. On the other side of this match, lay her being in full command of the team. It was something she had always hungered for but she was also nervous about taking over.
As the whistle blew, she hung back just a little. She had seen very little of the Teppalus team, owing to the fog that had shrouded their last match. As – to her knowledge (and she was assistant captain) – Aladren had not stooped to spying on practises, she only had limited sources to go on. One was the post-match reports, which mostly said that Pecari had run circles around the younger team, which was about as uninformative as it was unsurprising. The only other information she had was what Jemima said Ginger had said about practise. Had this information been at all helpful she might have felt bad for taking advantage of her younger sister's tendency to be so open and unguarded when it came to conversation but it had scarcely given her anything on which to base tactics. She had shared anything that sounded like it hinted at a particular play with Anthony but it wasn't as if they had learnt of any surprising and radical new moves. The Teppalus team, after all, was still walking through the basics. If they had anything more than staying on their brooms and doing a competent job up their sleeves, she was going to be very surprised. Still, she allowed herself a little time to watch, confident that she could catch up. One of them took the Quaffle. Everything was so fast in Quidditch, even at beginners level, that she was sure she was just imagining the look of surprise as he realised what he'd accomplished. She tailed the two players, close enough to catch up when she put some effort in but not near enough to be seen as a threat. She nearly closed the gap by accident as they came to pass, as the one with the ball slowed much more than she would have done for the manoeuvre. The pass was completed, competently and with care and attention. They would need to do more than that to stop the Aladrens being able to run constant interference. Confident she had a handle on what their current ability was, she sped up, marking the new bearer of the Quaffle closely. It was the boy who had received a nasty Bludger shot from Rupert Princeton in the last match. Whilst that was the game, she couldn't help but feel the job of a Beater was to use as much force as necessary, especially when the opponent was an eleven or twelve year old. She could only hope that it was because Rupert hadn't had a clear line of sight, and be happier than ever that her sister hadn't been press-ganged into joining a team she didn't want to play on, and which would have had her potentially in Alistair's place at that point. She was trying to put off thinking how it would feel to face off against Ingrid next year. Those were emotions that she would deal with when she had to. She thought she could handle it. Unlike Jemima, Ingrid was game for whatever the world threw at her. And, as Francesca didn't play Beater, it wasn't like she had to make the decision personally to maim her sibling. She just had to be detached from it should it happen.
Alistair passed quite soon, but she had been alert to the possibility. When she had first played, she remembered not making it far down the pitch before the pressure of holding the Quaffle started to needle her, making her sure she could hear a Bludger just behind her. Given what had happened to Alistair in his first match, it was unsurprising that he too should feel skittish, as she saw it. She swooped in, easily snatching his pass before it reached his team-mate, and turning tightly to begin a run towards Teppalus's goal and The Teppalus Keeper. Not Jemima's room-mate. Not the girl her little sister had had a craft party with to decorate their dorm room. Jemima being Jemima, had told her how upset Ginger had been after the last match – how she had found her crying her eyes out. Francesca could not afford to think how much worse it would be if it happened again, and if Jemima, trying to comfort her friend, knew that her own sister was part of the reason for her tears. This was the game. It had to be played. And The Teppalus Keeper was just a position, not a person, that she had to get past.
Of course, it wouldn't be now. The ball might pass back to her before they got to goal but it wasn't now that she had to cross that bridge. She looked around for a blue robed Chaser. She allowed herself to fly in a bit nearer, confident that the Teppalus players would take time to close the gap, and that they wouldn't be as comfortable with making moves that required them to get in close to other players. Of course, they might be tempted to try, and cause a pile up, but that was a risk she would have to take – the resultant penalty would go in Aladren's favour anyway. She made the short sharp pass to her fellow Chaser.
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
It was nice while it lasted....
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
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<font color="blue">Captain Anthony, Chaser</font>
April 16, 2015 10:44 PM
But all things must end by <font color="blue">Captain Anthony, Chaser</font>
Anthony had considered just going to spy on the Teppalus practices himself, but had finally decided it wasn’t necessary. The information he could get from doing so hardly seemed worth the also very slim chance of detection. He had told Malcolm to get as much out of his little brother as he could, but Mal had said all Andrew had to say about that was tell Anthony hello, and good luck from me!He thought he should have been annoyed – Malcolm had definitely looked like he expected him to be – but Anthony had actually gotten a pretty good laugh out of that one. It helped that the other team was a complete non-threat, but still, the boy was evidently one to keep an eye on. And a reminder not to completely disregard them just because only Douglas was really old enough to walk from the main building to the Pitch without someone to hold his hand. They were young and probably too nice to stand, not necessarily stupid, and as Anthony had been further reminded by an unusually long note from the man himself, his brother Arnold had started winning in a year when everyone had assumed the Aladren team was going to meet a horrible end because of all the first years on it. These kids weren’t Arnold and his roommates, but it was worth remembering that Arnold and his roommates hadn’t been themselves until they were, either.
With that thought in mind, Anthony had hoped for more miserable weather, something he assumed his team could handle better than the Teppalus team could, but instead woke to the most pleasant Quidditch day they’d had all year. Undismayed, he’d gone to breakfast as normal and made an effort to greet each member of the team. He didn’t insist on eating together or participating in bizarre initiation rituals or any of the other excessive closeness he thought the Pecaris indulged in before games, suspecting most of his teammates would just resent it or at best mock him behind his back if he tried, but four of his six teammates had sisters in Teppenpaw and he thought Jack had one in Crotalus. Clark was the only one whose loyalties he was sure were not at all divided in this, and while it definitely helped that none of those girls were on the opposing team, he didn’t think it could hurt to reinforce everyone’s Aladren connections today. He especially did not want his Beaters holding back because they were worried about their older sisters scolding them for making the Teppenpaw first years cry or something. It wasn’t likely that they’d think that way – Quidditch was Quidditch, after all, and even Teppenpaw girls probably understood that – but since he had felt a little sorry for the Teppalus team himself after their game with Pecari, it seemed like yet another thing to bear in mind.
Before the match itself, he smiled at his team. “Well, here we are again,” he said. “This one should be an easy win, but don’t take it for granted that it will be. They’ve had most of this year to get better than they were against Pecari, the weather’s also much better today, and as my brother – who, for those of you who didn’t know him – “ he thought that was really just John and Jack; Clark had come to Sonora after Arnold left, but was more likely to have heard of him than the Beginners – “does this for a living these days – decided to remind me, anyone who assumes he’s won a game just because the opposition looks weak might be in for a nasty surprise. Play well, okay? Luck might come into it with the Snitch, but we control the Quaffle and the Bludgers.”
He’d mildly disparaged the Pecaris for doing the exact same thing in his last speech. Well, Quidditch was not a pretty game. “John, you did well last time,” he said. Better than he thought anyone had expected, anyway, though Anthony privately still assumed the fog messing up Rupert’s aim had as much as anything to do with it. Against inexperienced Beaters and Chasers, though, who most likely hadn’t been pushed half as hard as an Aladren would push himself, much less be pushed by Leonidas, John might end up looking pretty competent. It was worth hoping for. “Do so again. Leonidas, you’ll stay with Clark. Keep in mind that they’re half-trained and maybe a little desperate, so there’s no telling what their Beater and Seeker might do. If they get close, keep an eye on them for that and – well, don’t over- or underestimate them. That applies to everyone, really. Now it’s time to go. Good luck, everyone.”
He smiled kindly at the co-captains as he shook their hands, then returned to his own team for kickoff. He missed the Quaffle and blinked in surprise when he realized Isaac Douglas had it instead. Douglas, of all of them, was the one Anthony had thought the least of; it was hard to take a guy seriously when he was a fourth year subordinate to a first year. If it didn’t turn out that the catch was a freak accident, Anthony might have to think of him the way Arnold had thought of some opposing Seekers: doomed, but deserving of some respect for the quality of his attempt to succeed.
The quality of the pass made that seem a little less likely, and Francesca reclaimed the Quaffle on its next journey through the air. It made its way to him easily from her to him afterward. After covering more ground, he passed again, another short one made at very little less than his previous speed and angled slightly up to the next Aladren player, assuming it reach its destination as easily as it had the last time.
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<font color="blue">Captain Anthony, Chaser</font>
But all things must end
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<font color="blue">Captain Anthony, Chaser</font>
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
April 17, 2015 7:23 AM
That doesn't bode well for us (goal attempt) by <font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
Her pass easily reached Anthony and Francesca flew up - putting on a burst of speed to try to get back ahead of her team-mate. For all that they could pass at speed, taking the Quaffle involved a little braking and it was almost impossible to fold yourself as flat against your broom with it as without. She varied her path a little, swooping left and right but never so much that she lost the distance she’d gained. She focussed on staying close. Not close enough that one Chaser could mark the two of them, or to make them an appealing ‘two augureys with one stone’ affair for any passing Beaters, but close enough to be useful.
It worked well. Anthony’s short, sharp, upward pass reached her easily. Tucking the Quaffle tightly under her arm, she made her way towards the Teppalus goal. The distance closed rappidly, the pitch falling away behind her and the goal line looming. Then she was over it. It was just her and the Keeper and that sense that something was about to happen. She tried to block out any noise from the crowd, quite sure that a lot of them would be rooting for the under-dog. There wasn’t much pride to be gained from beating the twelve year old but there was certainly a lot to be lost from losing to her. Besides which, it was her job to put her all in, regardless of who she was facing, and feeling like everyone watching wanted her to miss wasn’t going to help her.
She tried to look for the space around the Keeper, registering her body and which way she might be poised to move, but trying not to notice her as a person. Francesca angled her body, her eyes focussing to the left, having also registered in her peripheral vision that there was good space to the right as well. She drew her arm back, as if aiming left. She didn’t feint the actual pass, just very quickly threw her body weight left as she slowed, thus swinging her around to face right, suddenly changing her angle as the ball left her hand, sending it sailing to her right instead. Then it was just a case of watching and waiting...
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
That doesn't bode well for us (goal attempt)
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<font color='blue'>Francesca, Chaser</font>
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<font color=orange>Ginger Pierce, Keeper</font>
April 17, 2015 10:08 PM
Or me either by <font color=orange>Ginger Pierce, Keeper</font>
For a little while, Ginger thought her team was doing well. The Quaffle had actually made it well into Aladren territory. Then it turned around and came back. And it crossed the center line. And it made its way to Ginger. She recognized the girl carrying it as Jemima's sister. By all accounts, Jemima's sister was a very good Chaser.Ginger was too small to cover all three goals effectively, so she picked two and was not at all surprised when Francesca went for the last one (though for a moment, it had looked like she was considering the opposite one as Ginger's arc brought her closest to the middle one). She'd been expecting it and was ready for that. Had been counting on it, even. She changed directions - she had a school broom, true, but she'd carefully selected one that seemed to handle a Keeper's need for tight sudden turns and quick bursts of speed better than most - and pushed for the other side. It was a tactic she'd been working on for months, trying to get people to go for the hoop that seemed less protected, but Francesca was a little faster, a little better, than the Teppalus players that she'd been practicing against.
She came close. She came really really close.
But the Quaffle passed just out of her reach and sailed through the hoop.
Ginger growled under her breath - a sound that would have seemed quite ridiculous really coming from the tiny girl if anyone had been close enough to hear it - but she dove and caught the ball on the far side as it fell. Returning to the front of the goals she looked for an opening and threw the Quaffle to one of her teammates, hoping they'd at least get it out of scoring range for a little while so she could have a few seconds to regroup.
They'd scored against her again, yes, but she felt they'd done it on her terms and if she'd been a little taller, a little more practiced, she might have maybe gotten that one. It was more hope than she'd had at any point during the Pecari game.
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<font color=orange>Ginger Pierce, Keeper</font>
Or me either
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<font color=orange>Ginger Pierce, Keeper</font>
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