Just a few laps ((Mack))

[sisi]

Standing at the Quidditch Pitch entrance, Sisi took a deep breath. Her smile content as the warm spring air filled her lungs. Winter felt like it had gone on forever to Sisi. She waited and waited for spring to come, for just the right weather so that she could practice. She even bought a new broom in her last visit to Diagon Alley for the occasion of next year's try outs. She loved Quidditch with a passion and needed the practice, badly, if she wanted to make the team.

Excitement rose in her as she bolted onto the pitch, her new broom in hand. The wind was warm and the sun bright as she mounted. This was the first time since buying the broom that she'd been able to ride it and she'd been out of practice for the whole of winter. Let me just say... she wasn't starting out well. Sisi threw her leg over that broom stick and off she went, much too fast and much too rough. She flew up and up and up and before she knew it she was so high she could hardly see the highest hoop.

Now she was stuck. Sisi couldn't help but sigh. This was just great... No wonder she never made the team! Taking a deep breath so that panic wouldn't set in, Sisi evaluated the situation and tried to remember what the box said about the broom. She bit her lip as she tried to think, but the pressure of being up so high was nearly too much! She tried taking deep breaths, but soon she couldn't handle it any longer.

She panicked.

"OH DIO!" She screamed in Italian. As the panic seized her, she began screaming things in french and latin, too overcome to speak English so that someone might actually understand.

"Que faire! M'aider! Oh bon Dieu!"


((OOC: translation: OH GOD! What to do! Help Me! Oh my God!"

[Mackenzie Holden]

Sometimes, Mack hated Prefect duties. She hated the patrolling, she hated deducting points, she hated handing out detentions - she just hated it. Other times, Mack was kind of impartial to it. School, as she had mentioned to Pyro and Trevor later on that same day, had become a huge distraction to her music. It wasn't something she considered necessary anymore, but it was something she was forced to do. Now, with her parents getting divorced (again), Mack had been wondering if she could just drop out. Dixie had done it. Dixie had left, and Pam hadn't been able to do anything about that. Then again, Dixie was of age. Mack still had a year to go until she was of age. Mack scowled at that thought as she made her way down the stairs from the third floor she had been patrolling.

She hummed the song she was working on as she reached the second floor, her eyes flickering down the corridor to make sure nothing was going on that shouldn't be. Satisfied that there was no form of torture or anything going on, Mack continued on down to the first floor where the entrance doors were. She figured she would spend the rest of her Prefect patrol hour outside. She didn't know just how much she liked the spring time at the moment. Inside she was more like fall. Everything was so dull or whatever. She was just living life, going through the motions, etc. Mack pushed open the double doors and stepped outside, wondering when she'd ever enjoy life again instead of thinking about it as something she had to work through. She sighed and turned toward the Quidditch pitch. Apparently there had been a small group of third years who had been using the pitch to brew potions, and Mack had figured she'd check it out and make sure that wasn't happening.

As she drew nearer to the Pitch, the outlines of a small group of students became clearer. They saw her and quickly grabbed whatever it was they were fiddling with and dashed off. Mack rolled her eyes, no use chasing after them. She neared the Pitch all the same, though, maybe to see what they were brewing, maybe because she just didn't want to stop walking. Then she heard screaming from above. If those kids had done something to a first year, Mack wasn't going to hesitate to- oh, no. It wasn't a first year. Mack tilted her head back and looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun to see a lone figure in the air frozen with fear at the height. Honestly, why didn't people know their limits? Mack scowled and took out her wand, accio'ing a broom to her from the Quidditch supply closet.

She mounted the broom, and kicked off into the air. Within moments, she was was level with the other girl and she recognized her as Sicilia Marie, a Ravenclaw in her year. Mack smirked, "Issues?" Without another word, Mack reached over and grabbed the handle of Sicilia's broomstick, pushing it down. Together they declined slowly toward the ground and soon they were standing on the green grass of the pitch. Mack sent the broom away and looked over at the Ravenclaw.

[sisi]

OK, OK, OK, OK, OK, ok... She repeated over and over in her head, I'm fine... I'm going to be fine... just tilt the broom handle down... OH GOD! No... can't do it! I'm going to die... Wishing to whatever God that would listen to her, Sisi tried her best to remain calm, but it really wasn't working. She finally bit her lip to cease the screaming, but her mind continued with the same sort of shouts, only in English.

Just when she was about to calm down enough to sort through the problem, a voice next to her surprised her so much, she nearly fell from her broom. She screamed, flailing her arms out and finally holding onto the handle for safety. She looked up at the owner of the voice. She relaxed. It was only Mack, a Slytherin in her year and one of the prefects. She was saved! She smiled, feeling deliriously happy. Mack took hold of the handle and led her down to the ground.

Once her feet were on the ground, Sisi just about fainted. Her knees shook, but not too much that she could stay standing. She took a deep breath and looked at Mack with a grateful expression. Forget Slytherin prejudices, this girl saved her life!

"Oh thank you Mack! I lost my head up there." She said.

If that wasn't obvious, Sicilia Sisi thought to herself annoyingly. Her blurt-everything-out-as-soon-as-it's-thought attitude usually caused her embarrassment. However, she was still a tad frazzled from the shock of being up so high that it really didn't matter.