- Messages
- 57
- OOC First Name
- Samantha
- Wand
- Ebony Wand 15 Essence of Phoenix Talon
Isabelle woke late Wednesday morning, watching the soft morning light reflect of the panes the window. Her Charms class wasn't until later in the afternoon, so she figured she'd stop procrastinating and practice what she loved most: fencing. It had been too long since she'd last laid eyes on her precious epee. Her fingers twitched in anticipation. The only question was, where to go?
There was the Quidditch Pitch, but no, there'd be too many students around. The gardens were hardly appropriate; too many flowers. Isabelle's mind drifted, and she tried to rack her memory for a spot that was secluded yet scenic. She needed somewhere that filled her with energy and made her feel alive, where the wind whipped through her hair and the sun streamed down.
Hey deep brown eyes flew open; the cliffs! They were perfect, and the added drama of waves crashing against stone would only improve the mood. Giddy with excitement, Isabelle discarded her traditional Gryffindor uniform for clothes she would be able to move more easily in. After securing her long chestnut hair into a braided bun, she examined herself in the mirror. She looked every part the fencer in sleek black tights and a body-hugging white top. Thank goodness it wasn't too cold outside.
After grabbing a quick bite to eat at the Great Hall, Isabelle sped towards the cliffs, hoping they were fairly emptied. It's not that she didn't mind anyone watching, it's just if one wasn't familiar with the sport they might find it weird. They obviously just don't understand, she thought with a grin. It was a cloudless day, and a brisk wind flew through the trees. Birds shone black against the turquoise sky, and the smell of salt lingered in the air. Isabelle breathed in the nature, feeling adrenaline shoot through her body.
After a brief pause, Isabelle decided to forgo the chunky fencing mask. It felt more natural without all the padding anyway. Gripping her epee tightly with her right hand, Isabelle made her way onto a small clearing about ten meters from the cliffside. With great lunges and parres, the sword whipped through the air, slicing and bending and chopping. It looked as though Isabelle was locked in an intricate dance, she felt her body and soul become one with the weapon. Without meaning to, she deviated from the regular routine, adding her own flourishes. This is what it felt like to be alive, this is what it felt like to be free!
After twenty minutes, Isabelle clutched her side, panting. Strands of hair were falling out of her bun, and she could feel a drop of sweat roll down her temple. Sticking her epee in the ground so that the hilt waved in the air, Isabelle sat wearily on the ground. "Good work today," she said to her sword, giving it an affectionate pat.
There was the Quidditch Pitch, but no, there'd be too many students around. The gardens were hardly appropriate; too many flowers. Isabelle's mind drifted, and she tried to rack her memory for a spot that was secluded yet scenic. She needed somewhere that filled her with energy and made her feel alive, where the wind whipped through her hair and the sun streamed down.
Hey deep brown eyes flew open; the cliffs! They were perfect, and the added drama of waves crashing against stone would only improve the mood. Giddy with excitement, Isabelle discarded her traditional Gryffindor uniform for clothes she would be able to move more easily in. After securing her long chestnut hair into a braided bun, she examined herself in the mirror. She looked every part the fencer in sleek black tights and a body-hugging white top. Thank goodness it wasn't too cold outside.
After grabbing a quick bite to eat at the Great Hall, Isabelle sped towards the cliffs, hoping they were fairly emptied. It's not that she didn't mind anyone watching, it's just if one wasn't familiar with the sport they might find it weird. They obviously just don't understand, she thought with a grin. It was a cloudless day, and a brisk wind flew through the trees. Birds shone black against the turquoise sky, and the smell of salt lingered in the air. Isabelle breathed in the nature, feeling adrenaline shoot through her body.
After a brief pause, Isabelle decided to forgo the chunky fencing mask. It felt more natural without all the padding anyway. Gripping her epee tightly with her right hand, Isabelle made her way onto a small clearing about ten meters from the cliffside. With great lunges and parres, the sword whipped through the air, slicing and bending and chopping. It looked as though Isabelle was locked in an intricate dance, she felt her body and soul become one with the weapon. Without meaning to, she deviated from the regular routine, adding her own flourishes. This is what it felt like to be alive, this is what it felt like to be free!
After twenty minutes, Isabelle clutched her side, panting. Strands of hair were falling out of her bun, and she could feel a drop of sweat roll down her temple. Sticking her epee in the ground so that the hilt waved in the air, Isabelle sat wearily on the ground. "Good work today," she said to her sword, giving it an affectionate pat.