Alphonse Dubois V (Cetus)
More fumbling than flying
Sat May 3, 2014 06:35

Coach Munro laughed as his kids started imitating him with their own broomsticks. Alphonse couldn’t hold back a grin at the sight, either. It was pretty funny to watch them, especially the smaller of the two boys, who couldn’t have been much older than Emile. They both looked to be around the same ages as his younger siblings back home… and the thought of home hit him with a sudden pang of loneliness, despite the crowd of other eleven-year-olds currently surrounding him on the Quidditch pitch. But he shouldn’t be feeling homesick right now. ‘That’d be silly, right?’ After all, the only similarity between Coach Munro’s kids and Alphonse’s siblings were their ages, and that was something he was kind of taking a guess at anyways since figuring out someone’s age by just looking at them was really hard (well, his grandpère was good at it, but that was because his gramps was a wandsmith and he needed to be good at reading people - a skill Alphonse was expected to learn one day, too, but for now, he was forgiven his mediocrity at it). Indeed, the Munro boy’s behaviours were very different than how he imagined his siblings would be acting in their place.

Emile, at five, was still young enough for his mum to forbid him flying the kiddie broom, or indeed even sit on it without having at least three tuques on in case he fell off sideways and bumped his head, and so there was no way he’d’ve been able to command it Up here. More likely than not the broomstick would have become just another ‘wheel’ for the little boy to roll around in circles; he’d developed a weird fascination with wheels ever since riding in a Muggle car for the first time last Christmas. Meanwhile, Lucien had not only no interest in flying but a profound negative interest and would probably have gone off to sulk read or something instead. In contrast, Naomi put enough passion into all her sportsy hobbies to solidly trounce all the boys in the family on the playing field and by now would’ve been flying circles around them.

So where did that leave Alphonse? Flying was enjoyable, but he was neither overly good nor bad at it, and he didn’t feel inclined to try out for the Cetus team, both out of a lesser interest in playing Quidditch here (sports had always been something he and his sister did together and it felt odd not to have her hovering impatiently beside him listening to the coach’s instructions) and simple logic (there was no way that a first-year could keep up with the older students on the Quidditch teams; why would he bother trying out with the knowledge that he’d just end up holding them back?). But that didn’t excuse him from attending this ‘refresher lesson’ on flying.

“Up,” he directed a bit hesitantly, palm extended over the handle of the school-provided broom. He did have a broom of his own - it was an older Stardust model from Alphonse IV’s school days that had passed his mum’s critical approval because it had a child safety charm limiting the speed and height of flight, a feature that had since been lifted when it became apparent that the kids had learned how to fly properly and weren’t going to pull too many stunts on it… Er well, Alphonse didn’t pull stunts, at least. Naomi did, behind Mum’s back of course. And she would probably continue to do so much more frequently now that he had chosen to leave the broom in her eager hands instead of taking it with him to RMI.

This school broom seemed stubborn, or perhaps lazy was a better adjective for the way it twitched on the ground under his confused brown-eyed stare, but a second, more forceful “Up!” and then it raised to meet his hand, though still a bit more slowly than his broom at home. Having decided to wear his silvery school robes to today’s flying lesson (the robes were part of their school uniform, after all, which in his opinion meant that they ought to be worn at all times within the school), but having never worn robes while flying before, he spent several awkward moments trying to figure out how to mount the broom without getting the slightly too-long hem tangled around his legs. Inevitably, when he finally swung his leg over the broom, his robes did get caught around him and he squeaked in surprise as he toppled over sideways into the person next to him. “Excusez-moi!” he sputtered out hastily, scrambling to disentangle himself, cheeks flushed under dark brown curls.

  • Flying lessons!Temp. Coach Gaston Munro, Tue Apr 29 18:19
    Gaston Munro took a deep breath in the cool air on the Quidditch Pitch. He smiled over at his two sons, ten year old Frankie was sorting the brooms into best, good, and okay while six year old Wyatt... more
    • This is not my best day ever...Prior Forbs (Draco), Wed May 14 22:41
              Though Prior had learned a lot about the wizarding sport of Quidditch, not all of these educational experiences were entirely voluntary. Surrounded by pre-teen boys who thought the most... more
      • BEST DAY EVER!John O'Neill (Lyra), Mon May 19 09:50
        When Jack had first picked up a broom at the age of five he had not been a natural flier. For some obscure reason the broom never seemed to respond to him without putting up a battle first and during ... more
    • More fumbling than flying — Alphonse Dubois V (Cetus), Sat May 3 06:35
      • I think you mean more fallingLinden Wrey, Sat May 3 18:26
        Flying. Now this was a lesson Linden could get into. Considering herself the only good flyer in the family (Pamela didn't know how and Christopher was all talk), the fresh Cetus had a certain... more
        • Hm, no, I'm definitely fumbling right now.Alphonse, Tue May 6 07:23
          He still felt a little maybe more than a little embarrassed (falling into her was hardly the best way to go about making a good first impression) but was also appreciative of how polite and... more
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