Mituna Captor (
helmetdoesnothing) wrote in
sortinghat_logs2012-11-12 08:13 pm
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Entry tags:
[In which Mituna makes good use of his helmet]
WHO: Mituna Captor and Dirk Strider
TONE: General/Friendly
RATING: G
WHEN: Afternoon of November 12th
WHERE: Quidditch pitch
WHAT: Mituna is out on the pitch between classes practicing some sick moves. And some sick falling off. Dirk comes across him and shenanigans ensue.
STATUS: Ongoing.
---
It had been a common thing, even long before the events which had damaged most of his mental faculties as well as his balance and co-ordination, to find Mituna Captor on the quidditch pitch between classes. Even his father's concerns, and the undeniable fact that he hurt himself almost every time he did it wasn't going to stop him from enjoying his favourite hobby and the afternoon found him indulging in it again. The cold was no deterrent at all, even higher up where the chill in the air bit at his skin and forced a flush into his cheeks.
Anyone walking onto the pitch would find him zipping up and down between the goals, flying about the pitch in lazy circles and occasionally turning upside-down, ankles hooked together to keep him from falling off. There was no fear as he climbed higher than the tallest goal post, higher than the stands, hovering there for a moment before he dived sharply, body pressed low to the broomstick and fingers clasped tightly around it. Moments before he could have hit the ground he pulled up, knees skimming the grass, jack-knifing upwards in a giddy spiral. There was an expression of uncommon determination and concentration on his face as he flew between the goal posts, from one end of the pitch to the other and back again.
It was on the return, flying several metres from the ground, when Mituna abruptly fell. There didn't seem to be a cause for it. One moment he was on the broom, and the next he was hitting the grass, a quiet grunt leaving him on impact as he rolled once, then lay still, half curled up on his side.
TONE: General/Friendly
RATING: G
WHEN: Afternoon of November 12th
WHERE: Quidditch pitch
WHAT: Mituna is out on the pitch between classes practicing some sick moves. And some sick falling off. Dirk comes across him and shenanigans ensue.
STATUS: Ongoing.
---
It had been a common thing, even long before the events which had damaged most of his mental faculties as well as his balance and co-ordination, to find Mituna Captor on the quidditch pitch between classes. Even his father's concerns, and the undeniable fact that he hurt himself almost every time he did it wasn't going to stop him from enjoying his favourite hobby and the afternoon found him indulging in it again. The cold was no deterrent at all, even higher up where the chill in the air bit at his skin and forced a flush into his cheeks.
Anyone walking onto the pitch would find him zipping up and down between the goals, flying about the pitch in lazy circles and occasionally turning upside-down, ankles hooked together to keep him from falling off. There was no fear as he climbed higher than the tallest goal post, higher than the stands, hovering there for a moment before he dived sharply, body pressed low to the broomstick and fingers clasped tightly around it. Moments before he could have hit the ground he pulled up, knees skimming the grass, jack-knifing upwards in a giddy spiral. There was an expression of uncommon determination and concentration on his face as he flew between the goal posts, from one end of the pitch to the other and back again.
It was on the return, flying several metres from the ground, when Mituna abruptly fell. There didn't seem to be a cause for it. One moment he was on the broom, and the next he was hitting the grass, a quiet grunt leaving him on impact as he rolled once, then lay still, half curled up on his side.
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scaredmade him hesitant, watching people was still cool. Maybe one day he'd be able to get over his own reservations and stop being a chicken about it.This was one of those moments where he thought that would be possible. The person on the broom was doing some sick stunts and it was so cool. Dirk couldn't take his eyes off of it. And then abruptly, the flyer was on the ground. What on earth...
He couldn't believe what he'd just seen. Was the guy dead? Hurt? What was he supposed to do? It took longer than it should have to react, but as soon as he could get his legs to work, he ran over to Mituna. "Are you okay?"
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"I'm okay. I.." He trailed off, looking around. "... Did you thee where my broomstick went?"
He rubbed his arm again. It hurt a bit, but he'd had worse falls than that before.
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"Are you sure you're okay? Do you need to see the nurse?"
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"I'm okay."
There was a pause, while his mind ticked over, then he narrowed one eye slightly.
"What are you doing out here."
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When he got back to Dirk, he rubbed the back of his neck, then offered the broom out to the younger boy.
"Wanna try?"
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"I don't know. I've never even tried before."
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Mituna was of the opinion that everyone should know how to fly a broom, even if they couldn't pull off the kinds of moves that he and Latula can. He offered his helmet as well, and a crooked smile.
"Here. You can use thith. I don't mind."
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It didn't even seem to have occurred to Mituna that if Dirk didn't know how to do this then he must have been skipping Flying lessons. He set his broom down on the ground, then put his hand over it.
"Up!" he commanded, the broomstick immediately lifting from the ground and into his hand. He grinned, then set it back down again, beside Dirk. "Put your hand out and do what I did."
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"Okay. Up." The broom was almost like a Magikarp, to be honest. It shifted around and did nothing otherwise. "I guess I can't."
If he'd been to his classes, he would've known that's normal.
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"You have to really want it. If you don't it won't come."
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The entire time, he kept his eyes closed, as if that would somehow help. It took a little longer, and broom was wobbly, but it started working its way upward.
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"You're doing it. You're making it happen. Conthentrate."
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"Okay. I'm trying harder." He clenched his eyes shut even tighter. The broom was still working its way up.
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"Look, you fucking did it, buddy!"
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And he was so proud of himself.