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Post by HIMA on Nov 4, 2013 14:04:22 GMT -8
| He’d shout, but that would mean that he’d given in to the ones who wanted to kiss his feet and make him tea. Drink it, see your future. But no one was as good as Divination as he was, despite him hating the sport.
William Hurst was a boy, near enough a man but not quite accepting such a boring fate, that looked as much as a prince than his fellow man did a muggle. His world looked down on all the others, untouchable, so he didn’t know how it felt to be touched.
Which obviously meant capability and smarts to outwit the dumbest and the smartest. He was a boy born too late and bored already, with only eighteen in his body and a hundred in his bones. His family history meant being mediocre was a fate worse than swallowing a snitch from your bottom hole.
So he scoffed at the Hufflepuff boy.
"If you had an inkling of who I am, then you’d realise your efforts are futile." A smirk rose on his lips, a coy gesture, indeed. If only this Hufflepuff would learn some tact, that’d serve him good.
The grass on the pitch seemed to crunch under his shoes, his robe sat perfectly on his shoulders, shielding his arms.
William looked bored. |
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Post by Pool Boy on Nov 4, 2013 14:24:46 GMT -8
"Ohh, great Hurst, my liege and master, give me a bloody break - your mother's knits doilies with mine nearly every Christmas. I know who you are. Now-" he jeered, prodding the Slytherin in the shoulder like a badger fearlessly poking a snake. He didn't know if this one were poisonous, so you just had to keep poking it until it bit.
"Since your all dressed up in your crowns and emeralds, I'd like to see you put your broom where your mouth is." Eddie grinned, competition hanging in his voice. "C'mon, it'll be fun, general. Or are your prissy bones gonna faint at eight meters up?"
Eddie didn't know what Will was capable of. It'd been six years since Willie's team had beat the Hufflepuffs, and the guy had the mouth to say it was his talent. Eddie couldn't stand by and let the prat insult his game. He'd proved himself on the grounds for seven years now, and he knew what he was doing. If Will wasn't going to set it down on his own, Eddie was going to show him how proper. Call it table manners. "I heard you skipped practice until everyone just assumed you quit?" | |
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Post by HIMA on Nov 4, 2013 14:38:17 GMT -8
| "And why aren't you on your knees then?" He cut him in two, with a half joking, half serious tone. In fact, William himself wasn't even sure if he was one party or the other. What he could be sure of, however, was that this Hufflepuff boy was one half interesting and one big half irritating.
His lips pressed together, uninterested, unmoving, at his allegations, building up one after the other like one of his sister's muggle paintings. He'd wonder why she was so transfixed at non-moving, non-speaking, semi-alive works of art. Maybe she didn't understand. Nor did he.
"You're going off hearsay now? How... pathetic." He was as capable of venom as his house team was capable of cruelty.
"It's precisely because you sell yourself to 'fun', that people like you get nowhere, general."
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Post by Pool Boy on Nov 4, 2013 14:49:54 GMT -8
"Nowhere?" Eddie frowned, falling silent for a moment. Then, he chuckled to himself. He was already on his broomstick, hovering above the grass behind William. He floated now, seeming to lazily drift towards his rivals face.
"That doesn't make sense because its your quidditch record that's long-forgotten and covered in dust, not mine. What are you? Scared your rusty, Tinman?" His laugh was effortless. He wanted to know what the Hurst could still pull out of his sleeves, but he wasn't taking the moment as seriously as the other. | |
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Post by HIMA on Nov 4, 2013 15:01:21 GMT -8
| He watched the Hufflepuff raise and become airborne, all with a little smile.
He wasn't that weak.
Nor that cheap. Instead, he looked up, toying with the idea of having someone bring him a cup of tea in his favourite china set. If he wanted him to act, he'd have to do better than that.
"And why did you call me out again? Because you wanted so desperately to cling to my sporting memory?" He paused for a moment, thinking to himself, not caring if the wind was to carry his words away.
"You've experienced my, ahem, short reign first hand, so that's all you're getting. Muggle-like provocation, I might add, doesn't shine you or your family into a terribly good light. It's a wonder your lineage hasn't been mugglified."
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Post by Pool Boy on Nov 4, 2013 15:24:13 GMT -8
"Aww, don't be that way," Eddie pressed, meeting Willie's look with his own like two swords clashing. "You know, you're the one that clings to that damn sporting memory! Too bad you haven't played in what? Six years? Face it, Hurst, you've been left behind. Everyone's moved on. You even sound like my grandfather, bringing up muggles whenever things don't go your way."
Eddie slid off his broomstick, latching an arm around William's neck like they were chums. "C'mon Willie, I know its hard. I know you don't want to mar your pretty little first year record. But hey, maybe you won't be as atrocious as you expect? Just one chase, like old times." | |
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Post by HIMA on Nov 7, 2013 13:00:02 GMT -8
| William wondered whether or not this guy was eighteen or eight. Seemed the latter, of course. There wasn't much point in pointing out other people's flaws, especially letting them put up barriers and feel no shame.
"My grandfather was a pinnacle of the wizarding world; shaping the international wizarding society and what was yours doing? Driving the family name downhill, obviously." Right now he was seemingly drinking imaginary tea.
"Enough about your rear end getting itchy over a game six years ago," He looked away for a moment, hands returning to either side.
Now looking up, he smirked.
"Say, you're awfully close to the Ravenclaw prefect - Luttiere, was it?"
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Post by Pool Boy on Jul 14, 2014 16:14:36 GMT -8
Edmond was lounging on his stick a story up, speeding around with a quaffle in vague ovals around Will's head. He smiked to himself at the pompous, old-fashioned speech.
But when the Slytherin brough up Violetta, Eddie dropped the ball. It bounced on the grass several feet from his rival. Eddie hopped to the ground and scooped it up, but he'd lost his concern for the ball.
"Yeah, we're mates. Why do you ask?" he responded, grin falling into a more casual expression. Quidditch was his game, but his relationship with the prefect was a mess. | |
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