Post by Albrecht Beilschmidt on Mar 24, 2018 21:01:55 GMT
The sun had barely made its appearance over the horizon and the fog rolled over the grounds of the school, its tendrils caressing the carefully manicured grounds, the branches of the trees, and the banks of the grand lake. Albrecht Beilschmidt rose into the air, his hand gripping the smooth handle of his broomstick. His hair whipped around, sure he could have pulled it back, but honestly, he loved the feel of it. Albrecht closed his eyes as he flew a slow ring around the Quidditch pitch. He loved his job, he really and truly did. He enjoyed teaching, and while he couldn’t deny that the kids were challenging at times, he loved them. Getting a chance to know them, to see his kids grow into their own, while he’s not what anyone would call nurturing, he enjoyed being a resource for any student who needed it. Geira always made fun of him, said it was a miracle anyone would want to come to such a stick in the mud. Still, as much as Albrecht loves working with his kids, loves his job… there are just some times that he needed to himself.
Flying was always a stress reliever, the wind, the weightlessness of it. He had been addicted ever since his first broomride. He still remembered how he and his siblings used to play pick up games as kids, how Friedrich used to smile proudly at him after he’d managed some great save. It was probably the closest he’d ever been to his siblings, then or now. It was his way to connect to his nieces and nephews, as well as his students. And more than that, it was the only time he felt free.
Albrecht sat up straighter, basking in the warmth of the young sun, a rare smile grazing his face. It had become a bit of a tradition, but it was not a tradition he engaged in alone. He leaned back, pulling the broomstick into a backwards dive, hurtling himself towards the ground. To any observer, it might look as though he was going to slam into the earth, but at the last second, he pulled up, skimming just over the dewy grass to come to a stop before the singular figure that stood near the sidelines.
“Good morning, Herr Cooper,” he replied calmly, stoic mask back in place. He pulled his hair back into a quick ponytail. It had gone back to Allen’s first few days at Hogwarts, both were avid flyers and Quidditch enthusiasts and bonded over the sport. And so, at least once a week, they met up to fly together, sometimes they would face off, sometimes they would simply fly and discuss the latest games. Today though, Albrecht was in the mood for a battle, he held the beater’s club in his hand and rested it over his broad shoulder.
“I hope you are up for a game. I, for one, could use the chance to swing a club.” It had been a long week, with many an hour spent shut up in his office grading papers. His mind had seen enough action, it was time to put his body to work.
~~~~~~~~~
Allen Cooper
Flying was always a stress reliever, the wind, the weightlessness of it. He had been addicted ever since his first broomride. He still remembered how he and his siblings used to play pick up games as kids, how Friedrich used to smile proudly at him after he’d managed some great save. It was probably the closest he’d ever been to his siblings, then or now. It was his way to connect to his nieces and nephews, as well as his students. And more than that, it was the only time he felt free.
Albrecht sat up straighter, basking in the warmth of the young sun, a rare smile grazing his face. It had become a bit of a tradition, but it was not a tradition he engaged in alone. He leaned back, pulling the broomstick into a backwards dive, hurtling himself towards the ground. To any observer, it might look as though he was going to slam into the earth, but at the last second, he pulled up, skimming just over the dewy grass to come to a stop before the singular figure that stood near the sidelines.
“Good morning, Herr Cooper,” he replied calmly, stoic mask back in place. He pulled his hair back into a quick ponytail. It had gone back to Allen’s first few days at Hogwarts, both were avid flyers and Quidditch enthusiasts and bonded over the sport. And so, at least once a week, they met up to fly together, sometimes they would face off, sometimes they would simply fly and discuss the latest games. Today though, Albrecht was in the mood for a battle, he held the beater’s club in his hand and rested it over his broad shoulder.
“I hope you are up for a game. I, for one, could use the chance to swing a club.” It had been a long week, with many an hour spent shut up in his office grading papers. His mind had seen enough action, it was time to put his body to work.
~~~~~~~~~
Allen Cooper