[Q.Pitch] Thinking about life[[Brinley Graves]]

[Matthew Thornton]

A solitary figure. Matthew Thornton sat alone in the empty Quidditch stands. It was a place that had held so much magic for him, once. Things were so different, when he was younger. It was his dreams that had led him here... but fate had changed his dreams for him. Or rather, made him pick between his two most desperate dreams. Once, there was nothing more that Matthew could have wished for than to fly around these stands, listening to the crowd cheer. But now, Matt knew what was important, and it wasn't his old dream. It was strange to think how close he had come. In a few short months, he would be graduating. It had come so fast.

Sometimes Matt liked to pretend that if he hadn't chosen this path, that he might have gotten everything he had wanted; a spot on the Quidditch team. But then there was always that nagging voice in the back of his head. Really, if you didn't make it the first four years, was it likely that you could have made it in the last three? Matthew scoffed. Doubtful.

It was a cold, grey day. The Quidditch field, which was once green, was now covered with thick white frost. Matthew felt uncomfortably cold, but he didn't want to go back inside. He had come out here to be alone. It hadn't been a very good day, and he wasn't in the mood to entertain anybody. But the seventh felt very lonely, to say the least, and he wished he had a close friend with him to sit and talk with. Someone warm, who he knew very well and who knew him well in return, so that they didn't have to talk much. Someone that he didn't have to entertain. It would have been better than sitting here.

Matthew closed his eyes, trying to tell himself that he really needed this time alone. His thoughts were busy, but blurred, and Matt had a hard time stringing his thoughts together. He couldn't concentrate on a single idea. The seventh year knew that if he had a notebook with him, he might be able to clear his thoughts through writing. But it was currently tucked safely away in his school trunk. Matthew, leaning forward, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He hated days like these. Days where he felt like he was drowning. Days where bright spots in his life were hard to find. Days where he had no courage in himself. Taking a deep breath, Matt leaned back against the stands behind him. A distraction; that was what he needed. A female... or a friend... or someone who was both. Someone who didn't need an explanation.

[Brinley Graves]

The biting chill in the air had dulled from the near-snowstorm earlier, as a few frost-flecked snowflakes tottered softly down from the clouds, blanketing the Quidditch pitch and the lands surrounding. Everything was so beautiful.. But it had its price. You couldn't have one good thing without the other; life required balance, if it were to truly be called life. And though pretty, it was a cold, dead beauty, one that wrapped its fingers around your heart and clenched it, so long as you were properly attired for the weather. Brinley herself had been fortunate enough to purchase a winter coat, one that didn't make her look like an eskimo, but actually complimented her pale skin and blonde hair. Hard to find, yes, but not impossible. Wrapping said jacket tighter around her the sixth year stepped lightly over the frost, hoping her boots had well enough a grip to keep her on her feet. The light layer of snow over the path produced a pleasant crunching noise underneath every step, and without realising it a small smile had touched her soft, pink lips. She was walking aimlessly it seemed, finding eventually that she was now heading up the winding, wooden steps of the Ravenclaw bleachers. Wrapping her small fingers over the rail as she finally ascended the last step, she found that she wasn't alone.

Brinley'd have liked a better explanation for her actions, rather than just sitting down beside him. She'd have preferred a rogue bludger be flying drunkenly at him for her to bear the brunt instead, shoving him away to have it slam her in the stomach. But there was no vision of a rogue bludger rocketing at his face, and she had no excuse. She just felt like it. Which was odd, considering she usually kept to herself. To poke your nose into someone else's business was grounds enough to have the appendage chopped off, at least in her opinion, which was why her calm eyes held more than just a relaxed gleam; there was slight surprise widening the edges, barely noticeable.. But there. She was sure of it. And as he turned to look at her, with an expression of mingled surprise no doubt, she parted her lips slowly. "Do you want me to leave?" Her voice was light, casual, quite a mouthful for what she usually spoke with. She didn't often speak unless it was truly neccessary, and what came out of her mouth was just that much more meaningful as a result.

Her green, brown-flecked eyes followed his, studying the expression on his face. Something was troubling him, on his mind. Had her intrusion been unwelcomed?[/font]