Who? Ernest and Rhonda Hemingway, and of course, Bumby as well! X-D <3 <3 <3 What? It’s Quidditch time, bitches! (lol!) Where? A field in the Hebrides Islands! When? Saturday afternoon! ;-D <3 Why? Because - Quidditch? X-D <3 <3 <3 Open to anyone who wants to play or NPC an HP-world-native character, of course, as well as anyone who wants the fourth ticket Rhonda mentioned having, in public, to Amelie…! ;-D <3 <3 <3
Rhonda grimaced sympathetically at her husband as they landed upon the Isle of Skye, of course, but made no effort to attempt to keep him upright, naturally enough, because she knew instinctually that he was about to be sick, or something of the sort… And besides which, of course, he was a much larger man than she was a woman, and thus it seemed rather foolish to attempt to hold him up! “Sorry, sweet; Apparation is a sorta strange sensation to get used to….”
“What’s wrong with you, Papa?” Bumby exclaimed with all due joy, for having been on a wild ride, just now… “Wasn’t that fun?! Can we go again, mommy? Ple-e-e-a-a-ase?”
“Maybe a little bit later, sweetie,” Rhonda responded to the baby laughing with him, of course… “I mean, when we’re ready to head home again… Or, you know, the hotel we’re calling home, for the moment…!” She giggled a little, and then patted Ernest on the back, gingerly. “You alright, there, sweet? Ready to get up and go into the match, now…?”
It was good to get off of the island, and Ernest had always considered himself an adventurous person. He liked to discover new things, and new places, and he really didn’t scare easily. But as exciting as this whole trip was, Ernest really felt like a damn alien or something. There was so much he didn’t understand- and honestly, he rarely even thought of his wife as a witch. But now, in her home world, it was clearly apparent. Not that it bothered him, but it took a bit of getting used to.
And apparating apparently took some getting used to as well. He felt as if he’d been spun round and round on a merry-go-round, and now he was trying to walk- oh, God, he felt very sick!
He groaned a little, and wobbled along, somehow managing not to fall over, but as expected, throwing up on the grass. Lovely. “Mmm- nothing, nothing, I’m fine-” he assured his son, who apparently felt none-the-worse for his little trip. He took a moment to steady himself, and then gave Rhonda a thumbs up. “Oh yeah, never been better!” he teased, but he was smiling again at least.
“Papa!” Bumby managed to gasp out, scandalised at the man’s vomit, apparently. “Are you certain you’re ok? You don’t normally throw up like that when you’re just “fine”…!”
“He’s fine, really, Bumby, sweetie…” Rhonda hastened to assure the boy, as she helped Ernest stand upright again, gingerly placing his arm over her shoulders. “I mean, he’s - yes, he’s fine, alright…” She giggled at the man, as he gave her a thumbs-up and a smile. “Let’s go, then, let’s go sit down….!” But still, she grimaced slightly as she struggled to move forward, with all her husband’s weight still draped across her shoulders…
“Totally fine, don’t worry. Travel sickness is all,” he assured his concerned son, giving him a little pat on the shoulder. “You don’t get travel sick-” the child started, but Ernest just shushed him.
He accepted Rhonda’s help, but tried not to put too much of his weight on her, using her as a support but not a crutch. He didn’t want to crush the poor woman. “Oh, I’m fine, really. It’s fine,” he insisted, eventually managing to stand on his own two feet. “Just a little dizzy, is all,” he assured her. “Enough fussing. Where are we going?”