 PHILOMATH ❅ not one atom, but two ♪ ♪ made of starstuff ❅ def main():
Sylvie snorted. Baldvinsson thought she meant real farming, didn't he? Wizard people. Psht. Five years in this school, the Gryffindor had learned to identify when people knew what she was talking about and they had no idea. it was an easy skill to have really, since most of the time they just looked confused. Baldvinsson, sir, you looked mighty confused. Sir.
Sylvie was very tempted to choose running as opposed to flying. She was, after all, better on her feet than all of these Quidditch people put together But she had [i]honour[i], see, yes she did, and this honour would not let her stay on the ground while Zoryn, Derf, Abra and all of the rest of her class were flying around and doing aerial tricks and generally being impressive. By Thrall she would fly around like the rest of them and be as equally (just a little bit less) impressive (not impressive at all though, maybe adequate, a nice acceptable for Sylvie Norcott if we're honest).
Mounting her broom, she kicked off the ground with her customary wobble, almost a ritual by now after kicking off like this since her first year, and started her (slow-ish) laps around the pitch. She was not competing or chasing or in any way comparing herself with anyone else, okay, Ms. Roommate-Likely-Trying-To-Show-Off? Just so we're clear.
__________________ yeah I like tеlling stories________________________
but I don't have to write them in ink_____
_____________I could still change the end |