Post by Marlene McKinnon on Oct 14, 2013 14:03:41 GMT -5
marlene mckinnon was not a very dedicated girl to begin with. that being said, one of the few things that she put effort and care into was one of the only skills she had; hitting enchanted, flying, heavy objects with equally heavy wooden bats. an impractical skill that she probably wouldn't pursue professionally, but a skill nonetheless, and one that she worked hard on, and thus being the explanation as to why the young gryffindor was seated miserably in the grass, staring at what had once been her prized bat that was currently nothing but an explosion of splinters. "fuckin' piece o' shite bat." she grumbled under her bat, huffing and blowing the dark wisps of hair that fell before her eyes, sticky with sweat and the little blood that trickled from a small, open gash above her right eyebrow, hinting at the collision between bat and bludger that must have taken place. continuing to mumble to herself in examining her own injuries and the destruction of the bludger, pale azure optics narrowed immediately upon hearing the trudging of approaching footsteps. "piss off," she hissed venemously, without bothering to glance over her shoulder to see who the intruder was, "i've got th' pitch reserved til fife." growling in her scottish veneer, she tossed part of the broken bat behind her.