Post by Gabriel Adams on Dec 3, 2010 16:33:27 GMT -5
Time blurred. In all actuality, it might have just been the rain in his face, cold biting rain that stung the skin. There wasn't anything pleasant about it. But Gabriel gritted his teeth and kicked off, boot squelching in the mud. The snow might be on the way, but it wasn't there yet. The rain had been an unexpected obstacle, but one he was glad to have.
Gabriel didn't go far - he didn't trust the broom enough for that. It was a rickety thing, apparently made from glued together toothpicks with a stable brush stuck on the end. If he planned to keep up his little charade - or give himself a hobby that wouldn't earn him jail time - perhaps he should invest in an actual broom. There would be time for that later. All he needed right now was to run the course.
Setting it up in the rain had been a pain. The boards were about twelve feet tall, although originally they had just been plain two-by-fours. Once he'd sunk them in to the ground, it had been easy to just use an enlarging spell to make them the size he wanted. The result was what could have passed in a dog's agility course.
At least it wasn't thundering. It was just pouring. Likely he'd get pneumonia or something from this, but he didn't care. The Ravenclaw had started to realize that he really didn't care any more. Call it an epiphany, but Gabriel had finally noticed that he really was stuck in the past, and the boy was reluctant to leave those days, even if they weren't much better than the current time. At least there had been people that had known him then.
Down, down, to hell.
He had done similar exercises a thousand times - as a bird. A goshawk, in specific. And those birds happened to be built for this sort of thing, agility freaks. He'd watched them before, even one little program on the muggle TV where scientists had strapped a small camera to a goshawk's back to tape it as it rushed through the woods. His own first go had been scary as hell.
And so much fun.
The rain, the rickety broom, the hazardously constructed course, it gave him danger factors. He enjoyed danger factors. Gabriel shut his eyes for a moment, peered through the rain, and then willed the broom forward.
It shot like a rocket.
Oh hell.
The first board came up fast, and he barely managed to scrape around it. Now to look around the second without -
There was a slight crack as the handle connected with the board. He was going too fast. The broom spun, smacking his leg against a board, and then he was diving to the ground. It wasn't a far fall. He hit, and then rolled, dropping the broom. It flipped off some where else, and he stopped lying flat on his back. His arm burned, like it might have been scraped, there was a splinter in his wand hand, and the blood pounded so hard in his head he couldn't hear.
Oh, and he couldn't breath.
It started as a breathless wheeze, then built into a sort of silent laugh, his shoulders shaking. The rain tried to drown him, and mud clung to his clothes. The laughter faded.
"Zero to ... seventy." He swallowed.
"Fantastic."
Gabriel didn't go far - he didn't trust the broom enough for that. It was a rickety thing, apparently made from glued together toothpicks with a stable brush stuck on the end. If he planned to keep up his little charade - or give himself a hobby that wouldn't earn him jail time - perhaps he should invest in an actual broom. There would be time for that later. All he needed right now was to run the course.
Setting it up in the rain had been a pain. The boards were about twelve feet tall, although originally they had just been plain two-by-fours. Once he'd sunk them in to the ground, it had been easy to just use an enlarging spell to make them the size he wanted. The result was what could have passed in a dog's agility course.
At least it wasn't thundering. It was just pouring. Likely he'd get pneumonia or something from this, but he didn't care. The Ravenclaw had started to realize that he really didn't care any more. Call it an epiphany, but Gabriel had finally noticed that he really was stuck in the past, and the boy was reluctant to leave those days, even if they weren't much better than the current time. At least there had been people that had known him then.
Down, down, to hell.
He had done similar exercises a thousand times - as a bird. A goshawk, in specific. And those birds happened to be built for this sort of thing, agility freaks. He'd watched them before, even one little program on the muggle TV where scientists had strapped a small camera to a goshawk's back to tape it as it rushed through the woods. His own first go had been scary as hell.
And so much fun.
The rain, the rickety broom, the hazardously constructed course, it gave him danger factors. He enjoyed danger factors. Gabriel shut his eyes for a moment, peered through the rain, and then willed the broom forward.
It shot like a rocket.
Oh hell.
The first board came up fast, and he barely managed to scrape around it. Now to look around the second without -
There was a slight crack as the handle connected with the board. He was going too fast. The broom spun, smacking his leg against a board, and then he was diving to the ground. It wasn't a far fall. He hit, and then rolled, dropping the broom. It flipped off some where else, and he stopped lying flat on his back. His arm burned, like it might have been scraped, there was a splinter in his wand hand, and the blood pounded so hard in his head he couldn't hear.
Oh, and he couldn't breath.
It started as a breathless wheeze, then built into a sort of silent laugh, his shoulders shaking. The rain tried to drown him, and mud clung to his clothes. The laughter faded.
"Zero to ... seventy." He swallowed.
"Fantastic."