Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2021 22:28:22 GMT -7
March 19, 2026
Claricia really didn't care to spend the next two days standing around at the Ministry, but she had been volunteered to represent the Quidditch league at the careers fair being put on for the seventh-year Hogwarts students. She wasn't entirely sure what good that would do for her as a scout, since neither she nor anyone else would have the opportunity to see the students' skills on the pitch in that environment. She also didn't think that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be terribly eager to have Bludgers whizzing around, so luckily there weren't any of those. There were also careers in Quidditch that were off the pitch, to be fair, but she wasn't sure what seventeen- or eighteen-year-old kid aspired to become an equipment manager. Then again, maybe she would be proven wrong.
There was something, though, about watching all of the eager young adults filing into the second level of the Ministry that made her feel sick. She knew that look. That would have been Edmund Windsor a year before, too, and that thought pained her more than anything. He should have been the one standing there, telling the students who had been in the year below him about what it was like to play in a championship match straight out of school. He should have been able to do that—even brag a little, for all she cared—because it would have meant that he had lived. It was such a stupid, freak thing, yet Claricia knew that she would never be able to shake it from her memory.
Trying to put that behind her for the sake of doing what she was there to do was difficult, but she tried to tell herself that it was no different from what she would have done back on the pitch. She just had to focus, though that was much easier said than done. Really, Claricia figured that the best thing to do would be to stand around and seem approachable. She wasn't some happy-go-lucky ball of energy with a cheery disposition under the best of circumstances, but she forced something that could be considered a smile and glanced around the room.
OOC: OPEN!
There was something, though, about watching all of the eager young adults filing into the second level of the Ministry that made her feel sick. She knew that look. That would have been Edmund Windsor a year before, too, and that thought pained her more than anything. He should have been the one standing there, telling the students who had been in the year below him about what it was like to play in a championship match straight out of school. He should have been able to do that—even brag a little, for all she cared—because it would have meant that he had lived. It was such a stupid, freak thing, yet Claricia knew that she would never be able to shake it from her memory.
Trying to put that behind her for the sake of doing what she was there to do was difficult, but she tried to tell herself that it was no different from what she would have done back on the pitch. She just had to focus, though that was much easier said than done. Really, Claricia figured that the best thing to do would be to stand around and seem approachable. She wasn't some happy-go-lucky ball of energy with a cheery disposition under the best of circumstances, but she forced something that could be considered a smile and glanced around the room.
OOC: OPEN!
