- Messages
- 230
- OOC First Name
- Sir Dylaaaaan!
- Wand
- Kingwood 15 1/2 with Essence of Thestral Tail Hair
Rhys slowly walked down to the quidditch pitch, his Emerald Streak in his hand, resting over his shoulder, hus mind lost in deep thought. He wore his Slytherin quidditch robes, and carried a quaffle in his free hand. The sun was setting, but it was still a good hour or two away from dark, and he hadnt been hungry when dinner had rolled around. His mind had been lost in thought all day, and he had finally decided that sitting around stressing wasnt going to help. He was worried. And worried was starting to become an understatement as he very slowly became more and more stressed. He had made the quidditch team. Even though he had been so confident that he would, and he had only made alternate mind you, but the realisation had only finally hit him. There was a major difference between playing muck around with his brother, and playing in a proper game in front of hundreds of his fellow students, and actually representing his house. Doubt had clouded his mind, and the worry had seeped in enough to make him start to panic. What if he messed up? What if Slytherin lost the game because of him? He was already struggling to make friends at the school, but the thought of being the reason of losing the game was too much for him to bare, and the thought of having to then trying to make friends whilst being labelled the reason the team had lost made him almost want to cry. He was the youngest person on the team, and the only first year to have made any of the teams so far as he had managed to find out. And that reality had all but destroyed his confidence.
He sighed to himself in relief as he walked into the stadium, and saw that it was empty. He had been worried that someone might have been using the pitch. He figured majority of the school would have been at dinner, but one could never tell. Dropping the quaffle on the ground, he mounted his broom and kicked off, flying up and over the pitch. He stopped his rise after he thought he had gone far enough, and sat hovering high above the pitch. The air was warm, and the sight of the dying sun was like something out of a movie. There was a small breeze, but it was warm as it pressed against his face. He often found that being in the air helped him think, but now all it did was reinforce his fears. He ran a hand through his hair to try and calm his thoughts, but it did little to help. "I dont want to mess this up." he admitted to himself, his voice croaky. He hadnt realised how dry his throat had been until he had spoken. What was happening to him?
He sighed to himself in relief as he walked into the stadium, and saw that it was empty. He had been worried that someone might have been using the pitch. He figured majority of the school would have been at dinner, but one could never tell. Dropping the quaffle on the ground, he mounted his broom and kicked off, flying up and over the pitch. He stopped his rise after he thought he had gone far enough, and sat hovering high above the pitch. The air was warm, and the sight of the dying sun was like something out of a movie. There was a small breeze, but it was warm as it pressed against his face. He often found that being in the air helped him think, but now all it did was reinforce his fears. He ran a hand through his hair to try and calm his thoughts, but it did little to help. "I dont want to mess this up." he admitted to himself, his voice croaky. He hadnt realised how dry his throat had been until he had spoken. What was happening to him?