Off to a Flying Start [Open RP]

[chinasorrows.livejournal.com]

The air was still crisp with the previous night's downpour, the grass was laced with a fine layer of water that made the green look lighter. When China walked a path to the centre of the Quidditch Pitch, her steps were unmistakable. She was dressed fashionably, which meant; not idealistically, for the cold dawn. He wore black tailored three-quarters, a white blouse under an emerald vest and regular black slip-ons. Her hair was up with the aid of a Slytherin-inspired clip; a stunning, yet simple silver necklace adorned her swan-like neck and a delicate chain was around the wrist of the hand that held a book, her thumb book-marking the page she was up to. It was what she held in her left hand that seemed to work against her. A broomstick. A Nimbus 2001.

She stood in the middle of the empty arena. The sun was climbing higher into the sky, as sluggish as any newly-riser. China lifted her book up and read a few more lines as she bent slightly, and dropped the black broomstick to the grass. She was of course a Cadillac-girl, but when you're in a new culture you try out the cuisine, do you not? So as China had spent countless hours in the school's library, spending time book-hunting in Diagon Alley, and slaving over memorising each, all and any spell, chant, curse or jinx in this world, she was just as ready to try the transportation. No matter how much it made her uneasy. She closed the book, having read sufficiently and placed it to the grass. She hovered her hand over the broomstick and with a clear voice, resonating with confidence she wasn't truly feeling, she said; 'Up.' With that, the broom shot to meet her hand instantly. She smiled.

After a moment she mounted it, side-saddle.

She hovered for only a moment above the ground before something wrong started to happen. The broomstick jerked to the right and then sharply down, China shrieked, gripping the staff of the flying device with both hands. There was something in the air that she could feel, it was resonating from the castle, when China looked up amidst the temperamental attitude of the shaft of wood, she sore a hole in one side of the castle, on recognition she knew it to be the sorting room - and some battle was waging within. The power emitting from the room through her broom into anarchy and it wasn't going to have with China as its navigator. It thumped in the air, propelled up into the sky, darting around the goal post and nearly colliding with a Hufflepuff turret. She shrieked and brandished her wand, but in needing to do so she had to release her hands - which the broom took full advantage of. It bucked under her and with a scream she was falling to the ground. She barely had time to put her hands out to brace herself.

The grassy field rushed to meet her and with a dulled thud she hit the ground, landing oddly and breaking her arm. The force of the sudden stop dislodged her clip from her hair, letting that raven-black hair fall like silk around her shoulders. After a moment where all she could focus on was not throwing up, she lifted her head and squinted her eyes in the direction of the rising sun, the broom was disappearing over the Forbidden Forest.

'Damn it,' she groused.

[OOC note: The power that messed with the magic of the broom is caused Ulquiorra Schiffer's spiritual energy, during a confrontation with certain Hogwarts alumni.]

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[adm-zex.livejournal.com]

Zex had been wandering around, enjoying the flora and fauna under the light of Earth's star. He'd been enjoying the human's antics, but at the sight of her crashing to the ground he got concerned.

"Are you in good health?" The green alien loomed over her.

[chinasorrows.livejournal.com]

Her fingers dug into the soil, digging up the blades of grass, drawing in a breath that soon stabbed her in her lower rib-cage. She had also broken a rib. She looked up at Zex, her usually elegant features twisted and gnarled into angry lines and shadows. She grunted and awkwardly sat herself upright, not nearly kneeling so much as slumped to one side, leaning on her good arm. Her broken limb lay lamely in her lap as she bent herself, with agony, so as to not weigh down her broken rib. Afterward she glowered at Zex's feet. 'I'm just peachy,' she jibed, pride stricken and looking a mess after an arrogant attempt on her part to master Broomflight.

edited for present tense stupidity

[adm-zex.livejournal.com]

The woman had been lying down, with an expression that suggested either extreme pain or extreme erotic pleasure. Zex peered into her face and twisted one of his arms in puzzlement, but finally had to admit he didn't know what was really going on. "Peachy means...good?" he asked eventually, in a hesitant tone, far from his usual voice. And she was angry. Why?