Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2017 18:22:25 GMT -7
MARIA CAMILA DA SILVA POVOAThe end of classes stroked by illusively, as Bunny caught himself in his head for majority of the day. The holidays had approached. Bunny could anticipate his arrival to the Wulfe household -- a series of insults on impact, followed by a flurry loving conversations his siblings would display. Hours of his wishing Sarah just may show her face. Subsequently, leading to Bunny's slipping into the night, into the muggle world, to find his own happy Christmas. Good times. He'd awaken with his cheek pressed firmly to a desk -- as none of his friends appointed themselves to be reliable, and poke him when class was dismissed. He raised his head, a large red imprint settled securely, tracing from his chin to directly under his left eye. Bunny sat blankly, squint-eyed in an empty room, glancing from left to right -- the aroma of ink, and involuntary tears of boredom stinging his respiratory. He stretched, and stood. An abrupt flash of black dressing his eyes, causing him to stumble out of his desk, and toward the door. Quidditch Pitch. Bunny hadn't been there in quite a bit of time, and the rays of sunshine that slyly wriggled their way through the arches of the castle looked exquisite.Bunny trekked out onto the field, with a school broom in right hand, left hand crested over his eyes, to be used as a shield. A light layer of snow crunching under his feet. The air was crisp, and slipped through his nostrils coolly. The chill nipped his skin, slightly. It felt good. Not too hot, not too cold. His eyes trailed up to the largest hoop, the keeper guarded. Bunny had only played Quidditch for one year, and lost interest. He'd never gotten as far as the hoops. He prepped his broom, and kicked off the ground hard -- trailing towards his target; the largest hoop. Wind pressing in his face -- Bunny had forgotten how lovely it had felt, to fly. Pulling up on the broom gently, he slowed next to the hoop. What would it be like to sit, and relax inside of one? Bunny smirked, and carefully stretched a foot toward the hoop -- inching the broom closer, and closer. Finding the edge, he secured his leg over one side, bringing the broom in closer. Finally, he slipped his other leg over, and settled in place. He grinned in contentment. "Good right?" Bunny looked over to the broom, he'd addressed -- as if it were alive. Only it wasn't suspended in midair, as Bunny had originally predicted.Bunny looked through his legs, to see the broom hurdling toward the ground. Damn school brooms. The one he had at home, was state of the art -- and would never have propelled to the ground without permission. "Bollocks," he muttered, as he watched the broom smack into the soft grass below. He was stuck on the tallest hoop, in the Quidditch Pitch.