RP: It's the end of the world as we know it
Date: November 27, 2007
Characters: Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Marcus Flint, other Quidditch team members, anyone else who would be there...
Location: Paris, France
Status: Public
Summary: The run is over after months of effort and playing their hearts out, but nobody can quite believe it.
Completion: INcomplete
Katie contemplated the firewhiskey in the glass sitting in front of her - she'd downed one in a single gulp upon her arrival at the bar just around the corner from the hotel the team was staying at in Paris. They'd eschewed the tents pitched around the playing area in favour of a more central location where a good night's sleep between matches was at least a better probability, given they couldn't exactly participate in the revelry. She had no idea where everyone was going to be for the coming night, considering the days of curfews and no-sex sleeping arrangements were definitely over. She imagined a few would head back, and a few would enjoy the opportunity to explore France.
For her part she'd avoided company for the most part since the moment the snitch had been caught by the Peruvian seeker, save the obligatory things. She'd been sharing a room with Alicia since the team had arrived Saturday, but had packed up her stuff to move back in with Cedric, who had come along as well. She'd been grateful for the support, both the intangibles and minor things during the preceeding weeks - and even though her time was preoccupied with the team, Katie had been thrilled that he had been able to be there.
Though she wasn't much for talking at the moment, he had come with her to the bar. Currently he had slipped out to take a floo call, and she was left with her drink.
What had gone wrong? There was nothing she could pinpoint. No bad play, no grievious error, no weak link on the team. Just somehow the game had ended in a loss. Yes, the backups had been able to get at least a moment in the sun for at least a few minutes during water breaks, but they hadn't played badly. The team hadn't underestimated Peru, they'd prepared just like it was Ireland or Bulgaria. At least she thought they had. Maybe the team hadn't taken the message of overconfidence to heart. Maybe they hadn't trained long enough, hard enough. Maybe the detractors who had said they didn't belong in the tournament had been right. They hadn't won when it really mattered.
What else could she have done? She'd put her heart and soul into this tournament.
Again she sighed, picking up her glass, twirling the liquid in the glass before taking a long and slow sip. She set it back down on the table with force. The post-game interviews were harder to take when one was on the losing side; she'd remembered that from pro play, but it was ten times worse here. They'd had to stay, answer questions, make the story for Peru when all she at least wanted to do was head back to the hotel room and burrow under the covers for a week or two. A few reporters had even managed to make it into their team meeting before wards and muffling spells were cast. Instead then, they'd let the other players go since the outside world had no place in their commiseration and doubts.
Glancing up from the current pity party she was enjoying, she noticed she was no longer alone. She didn't bother to raise her glass in toast, but gave a half smile, realizing her solitude was about to be interrupted.
Characters: Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Marcus Flint, other Quidditch team members, anyone else who would be there...
Location: Paris, France
Status: Public
Summary: The run is over after months of effort and playing their hearts out, but nobody can quite believe it.
Completion: INcomplete
Katie contemplated the firewhiskey in the glass sitting in front of her - she'd downed one in a single gulp upon her arrival at the bar just around the corner from the hotel the team was staying at in Paris. They'd eschewed the tents pitched around the playing area in favour of a more central location where a good night's sleep between matches was at least a better probability, given they couldn't exactly participate in the revelry. She had no idea where everyone was going to be for the coming night, considering the days of curfews and no-sex sleeping arrangements were definitely over. She imagined a few would head back, and a few would enjoy the opportunity to explore France.
For her part she'd avoided company for the most part since the moment the snitch had been caught by the Peruvian seeker, save the obligatory things. She'd been sharing a room with Alicia since the team had arrived Saturday, but had packed up her stuff to move back in with Cedric, who had come along as well. She'd been grateful for the support, both the intangibles and minor things during the preceeding weeks - and even though her time was preoccupied with the team, Katie had been thrilled that he had been able to be there.
Though she wasn't much for talking at the moment, he had come with her to the bar. Currently he had slipped out to take a floo call, and she was left with her drink.
What had gone wrong? There was nothing she could pinpoint. No bad play, no grievious error, no weak link on the team. Just somehow the game had ended in a loss. Yes, the backups had been able to get at least a moment in the sun for at least a few minutes during water breaks, but they hadn't played badly. The team hadn't underestimated Peru, they'd prepared just like it was Ireland or Bulgaria. At least she thought they had. Maybe the team hadn't taken the message of overconfidence to heart. Maybe they hadn't trained long enough, hard enough. Maybe the detractors who had said they didn't belong in the tournament had been right. They hadn't won when it really mattered.
What else could she have done? She'd put her heart and soul into this tournament.
Again she sighed, picking up her glass, twirling the liquid in the glass before taking a long and slow sip. She set it back down on the table with force. The post-game interviews were harder to take when one was on the losing side; she'd remembered that from pro play, but it was ten times worse here. They'd had to stay, answer questions, make the story for Peru when all she at least wanted to do was head back to the hotel room and burrow under the covers for a week or two. A few reporters had even managed to make it into their team meeting before wards and muffling spells were cast. Instead then, they'd let the other players go since the outside world had no place in their commiseration and doubts.
Glancing up from the current pity party she was enjoying, she noticed she was no longer alone. She didn't bother to raise her glass in toast, but gave a half smile, realizing her solitude was about to be interrupted.