Rocket Robins (demzarocket) wrote in flippedrpg, @ 2012-09-05 19:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | ch: can: demelza robins, p: giles |
Who: Demelza Robins canon, Open
What: Flight Test
Where: Hogwarts, the Black Lake
When: Wednesday Evening/Night
Warnings: swearing
Status: Solo Log/Open
Being at Hogwarts again was weird.
Of course everything was weird when it came to Compound life, science fiction TV-show level weird. Weird and profoundly messed up, in Demelza’s view, for them to be ripped out of their lives like this. The fact that so many of the places they visited had been cool didn’t change the fact that they were prisoners. She wasn’t going to let herself forget that again. She wasn’t going to let it get in the way of doing whatever the hell she wanted, either, but the fact that this was playing right into the Scientists agenda still rankled, made even the good times here sour. A prison with fabulous amenities was still a prison, and maybe in some ways it was worse. Azkaban stripped everything away from you. The Compound made you a co-conspirator in your own imprisonment. Not so different from the Wizard World at large, really . . . Demz scowled, kicking a small rock down the dirt path ahead of her. Too much serious thought, that was her problem; thinking about anything for too long just made her angry.
She needed air.
One of the ways that fake Hogwarts was weird was how easy it was to sneak out of the castle. Probably because most of the Prefects who were supposed to stop that sort of thing were fellow Taken who really didn’t give a crap and good on them as far as Demz was concerned. This wasn’t really Hogwarts, and even if it was, they weren’t real students. And if the Science Jerks had a problem with it they could kiss her fantastic ass.
Demelza was dressed in her Quidditch robes, one of the more durable School brooms tucked carefully under her arm. If anyone asked, she could honestly say that she was practicing maneuvers. Demz knew her team was a long-shot for the (fake) Quidditch Cup, if only because the opposing sides were all loaded with a whole cross Hogwarts Quidditch all stars (not to mention the great Wronski). The scheduled practices had gone well so far, but that was probably true for the other teams. She wasn’t going to make any excuses for not putting the work in. She was still Captain damn it, still Rocket Fucking Robins. Racing was her true passion, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love Quidditch too. None of which changed the fact that she’d have stolen a school broom and hit the skies even if she weren’t on a team. Even if the school’s Shooting Stars were relics, they were still brooms. She couldn’t push her limits like she would on a proper broom, but just getting in the air again felt right. Grounded, she was just Demelza. In the air she was Rocket. Nothing could ruin flying, not even the Compound. She wouldn’t let it.
Reaching the shore, she gently set the broom down. Almost reverently: the school Shooting Stars hadn’t aged well, but in their day they’d been the cutting edge, and so far this particular broom had performed better than any of the others she’d tried out. But she hadn’t really pushed her limits yet. “Okay, baby, let’s see what you’ve got.”
The broom shot up into her hands and Demelza grinned, mounting and taking off with minimal difficulty. She noted the difficulty in handling and eased up a bit, taking the broom into more of a gentle hover over the water before slowly picking up speed as she ascended. Leaning into the broom she whispered, “Still fighting me huh babe? Be a good girl and I promise I’ll take you someplace nice.”
As if responding to her the broom suddenly kicked left and Demz laughed, turning her ascent into a long sweeping dive before pulling up at the last second, feet skimming just above the water as she accelerated and finally pulled up again. This time the broom behaved itself, and Demz just knew that now she could really push it. With a slight twist her straight ascent became a corkscrewing vertical spiral, building momentum for a straight shot out towards the middle of the lake. She was nowhere near approaching her top racing speeds, but what she really wanted to test right now was how well her adopted broom could handle a tight turn at speed, since that’s what you needed most as a Chaser. When the broom began to twitch left again, instead of fighting it she powered into it, briefly spinning out and nearly being launched off altogether before managing to straighten out back towards shore. But not before she pulled into another ascent, easing up on the speed this time, to repeat the process all over again. Easing up slightly on the speed and, sure enough, the Shooting Star handled like a dream this time. Not that bad, really, but a Firebolt or Accelerator never would’ve fought her like that in the 90 kmh range. Slowing up and finally breaking completely, but still hovering a few feet over the water, she whispered to her broom again, “Oh sweetie, you may not have power like you used to but you’ve still got moves, don’t you? Let’s work with that then.”
And so Demz spent the next hour as the sun set putting herself through the paces, trying out increasingly complex loops and spirals and rolls further and further out over the middle of the lake before, finally, trying her luck with one last sprint back to shore and, for the hell of it, a full-on Wronski Feint that she then turned into a Woollong Shimmy and, finally, a Sloth Grip Roll that she somehow managed to turn into a running landing without dislocating her shoulder in the process. With a giddy spin and a squeal, she fell backwards on her arse and then, laughing in sheer joy, collapse back onto the ground, hugging the broom tightly against her.
“Yeah. Still got it.”