- Messages
- 4,325
- OOC First Name
- Camilla
- Blood Status
- Muggleborn
- Relationship Status
- Single (Not Looking)
- Wand
- Curly 13" Rigid Pine Wand, Meteorite Dust Core
- Age
- 20 (21/9/2043)
Aine had made a list of personal goals for the year, in order to help with her training. Maybe, she thought, if she became more of a complete human being in her final year of school, she'd be able to control her mind a little better, and she'd be entirely ready for adulthood. She was legally an adult in the wizarding world, and soon would be back home as well. Whether any of this would actually help or not was a different matter entirely, but all she could do was try and put her hesitation and self-doubt to one side and tick things off one by one.
Easier said than done, apparently, as Aine was already doubting herself looking at the first item on her list. Fly on a broom. She had learned, technically, in first year, but it had been a dismal failure and was the one bad mark on her record. Sitting on a broom made her nervous enough (how was she supposed to stay upright properly?) and then without anything solid underneath her, she would panic. She'd never had problems with planes, funnily enough, but something like a broom, or even a shaky ladder? Absolutely terrible. She was going to fall, she knew it. It was just like riding a bike, except Aine couldn't even do that.
But she wasn't going to give up so quickly, as stubborn as she could be. Borrowing one of the larger brooms - appropriately sized for a seventh year, not a first year - she'd found a spot on the Quidditch Pitch where she wasn't directly obvious to a passerby, and awkwardly swung a leg over the broom. She closed her eyes, screwing up her face, and slowly tried to raise herself off the ground.
Easier said than done, apparently, as Aine was already doubting herself looking at the first item on her list. Fly on a broom. She had learned, technically, in first year, but it had been a dismal failure and was the one bad mark on her record. Sitting on a broom made her nervous enough (how was she supposed to stay upright properly?) and then without anything solid underneath her, she would panic. She'd never had problems with planes, funnily enough, but something like a broom, or even a shaky ladder? Absolutely terrible. She was going to fall, she knew it. It was just like riding a bike, except Aine couldn't even do that.
But she wasn't going to give up so quickly, as stubborn as she could be. Borrowing one of the larger brooms - appropriately sized for a seventh year, not a first year - she'd found a spot on the Quidditch Pitch where she wasn't directly obvious to a passerby, and awkwardly swung a leg over the broom. She closed her eyes, screwing up her face, and slowly tried to raise herself off the ground.