on the edge (TYSON)

[dominique]

Dominique whistled as she brushed some of the wet mud off herself and swung her broom over her shoulder and strutted back to the lockers. A normal human being would be shivering from the cold but she was warm and ecstatic and it had nothing to do with the heating spell she'd performed before practice. It had been a good one and she'd caught seven of the eight snitches Tyson had let out in less than twenty minutes. If she kept it up, they'd surely have the trophy this year. So, here she was, happily kicking some mud and sending it flying around her and playing with the little golden ball in her hand.

She was tempted to keep it but decided against it, depositing her things near her locker and heading back out to return the ball to the chest. She spotted a figure hunched over the chest and grinned, recognizing the seventh year immediately. She wasn't good with recognizing people from far but being on a team lead to a sense of familiarity which was difficult to understand unless you were on it.

Flipping her hair, she skipped over to him, kneeling beside him. "Need help putting back an ickle Bludger, Oh-great-Captain?" she teased, flipping open the tiny compartment for the snitch. She unsnapped her gloves and let herself sit down for a minute. Now that the adrenaline had run out a bit, she realized how grueling a session it had been, despite the amazing results.

"You know, as much as we rock," she said, pulling her hair back in a messy bun, "I think I might have lost half my muscles there," she said, grinning at him.

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[ruley]

Tyson hadn't exactly expected his team to be performing so well, the beaters were almost perfectly in sync with the chasers volleying and passing beautifully. His Seeker, Dominique had also been on top form, after catching the first few snitches he had released he found himself releasing one after the other up to a total of eight! She only managed to catch seven of them though, but even that was an impressive milestone. The only low point he could have seen was when he had stopped participating in passing and moved off to observe his other players, his chasers hadn't gotten the message, throwing the quaffle into his side, causing him to walk away with a small bruise on his right shoulder.

Right now however, he had a bigger problem. Since Addison had only bothered to secure one of the two bludgers they had released at practise today, Tyson found himself wrestling the last one into its container. If he had brought his wand out with him, this would have been much, much easier and wouldn't involve mud stains all over the back of his quidditch robes. The golden number 4 was hardly visible, as was his surname, buried under mud. As he finished struggling, the satisfaction of a metallic clicking noise told him the bludger was secure and not getting out any time soon.

The light squelching of a team mates boots to his side had gone unnoticed by Tyson but he had heard her playful jab at his struggles. "Nothing I can't handle Dom." He replied with a smirk and a slight raise of an eyebrow, waving to a fellow player in the distance disappearing into the changing rooms. Now that Tyson had relaxed his upper arms and thighs, they began to burned with fatigue, thankfully they had a few days respite before the next time they would need to be on a broom. He wiped a bit of mud off his cheek and turned to face Dom, his broom swung over his shoulder. "Ah, but that's the only reason we rock, we train hard!" Tyson replied with a grin before nodding down at the now full chest chest. "Grab the other side would you? Lets get it into the store room by the changing rooms." He said, bending down to grab one side with his free hand.

[dominique]

Dom snorted as she saw him finally manage to shut the clasp on the bludger and mock-rolled her eyes as if she didn't believe him one bit, despite proof of the contrary. "Sure you can," she scoffed, a playful smile on her face. "Of course, we rock, we're the best team in the school in centuries, don't tell that to my dad or my uncles and aunts though," she added the last part, smiling cheekily. As much as her team had pride, anytime any of the kids at home mentioned that they were the best in ages, the numerous aunts and uncles of the Gryffindor Team always had something to say about it. "See, now I'm thinking that if we keep up like this, we can definitely win the next match and after that it's just a matter of keeping up the points to win the cup, right?" she said, excitedly, although she felt highly nervous, to say the least.

Her team always did a fantastic job and on the occasions that they lost, it wasn't a game they were any less proud of since they gave their best. But she always felt like it was her who would let the team down. It was a tricky thing, because if she caught the snitch too early on then the chasers wouldn't have a chance to increase the score and if she let it slip for a few seconds, she risked the other team catching it. She was glad she'd had a chance last summer to go and visit Mr. Krum, her fellow team member Mila's dad, because he'd taught her so much. Of course, she didn't mention a word of this to her Uncle Ron unless she wanted to be thrown out of the house.

She sighed and pretended to whine a bit. Wrinkling her nose at him, she bent down to pick up the other side of the heavy trunk and started walking. "Gone are the days when ladies were to watch their men do the work. Shame on you Mr. Crowshaw," she said. Walking back to the store room, she saw how muddy and messed up his robes were and how there was mud in his hair. "My, my, Tyson. Look who's looking so devilishly handsome and macho," she chuckled, ruffling some mud out of his hair.

[ruley]

Tyson often forgot about the Weasleys fame around the school, having descended from two thirds of the golden trio, as they were dubbed in the daily prophet on occasion. Tyson often attempted to distance himself from such times as although they might have been times of joy and celebration for most of the world, he didn't feel like partying at all. Still, having gotten to know the Weasleys on the team, he easily saw past what might be called their public persona, despite not wanting to pay much attention to it in the first place, and had gotten to know them as individuals. When playing on a team, it was part of the course and to be expected that you would get to know things about your team mates you just wouldn't have noticed in corridor chats.

Tyson nodded in agreement with Dom before grinning somewhat maniacally before joking: "I'll try to leave it out of my weekly letters to your family then!" Team banter was always good after a strong training session. Most of the time, players were ready to drop the moment they hit the ground. Tyson's predecessor had put it best; If you didn't laugh you'd cry. Yet even though that didn't necessarily apply to Tyson today, it was somewhat hard to tell what his players were thinking, he was never good at reading minds. "Do you wana take over the post game changing room talks?" Tyson chuckled, adding: "That's motivational gold right there, even if its a little cliché!" She was of course perfectly right however, if the team stayed on form he didn't see many threats to there campaign for the house cup.

As he and Dom hefted the crate, playful protests could be heard to his side as they started back towards the store room. "Well, it's called the future, so get used to it!" Tyson smirked, glancing over at Dominique, pondering if the playful protests were just playful. The last thing he'd want to do is strain a player too much on the ground that left them out of action in the air. As they reached the store room, Tyson felt a grubby hand ruffle through his hair with a jest. "Only you would think that under all this mud Dominique!" He chuckled, returning the favour by smudging some of the mud that had lightly splattered in her cheek. "If you hadn't been in quidditch robes, I would have apologised about walking in on your face mask session!" He chuckled, grinning as he hefted his broom over his shoulder once more. Tyson always loved how his team hardly subscribed to him being the captain, except when it really mattered. He had hated the awkward feeling the first time he had joined the team, the captain always taking a stern tone and attempting to professionally separate themselves to some degree, what was the point?

[dominique]

Dom watched his inner monologue with a slight interest, but didn't say anything. Sometimes it was so easy for her to forget that she came from a family which set a legacy. She'd never looked too deep into the facts and history. She was proud of all of them, each and everyone, but whenever there was a class in History of Magic related to Voldemort, she would cut the class or skip the pages while studying. To others, they were the Golden Trio's off springs, the golden family and all that. But to her, they were just like any other. They studied and fought and loved and told stories and tucked themselves into bed and went home on Christmas and Easter. To her, it was just the way things were.

"Tyson!" she said in mock exasperation as she lightly hit him on the shoulder. "I should've known you were the rat, telling my mum and dad what all I'm up to. And here I thought it was Louis doing it," she said, grinning. She pointed herself and raised a brow. "Moi? Why thank you, but I think I'll leave the locker room chats to you. I prefer not to give speeches at four in the morning since my audience is not awake," she teased, winking. At least his pep talks actually pepped them up instead of scaring them and making them nervous. She used to be so tired of being told it was down to her but Tyson seemed to make it seem like something to be proud of and not be scared of.

"I know when I see handsome," she said and then gaped at him as he smeared mud on her cheek. "Huh!" she huffed, flipping her hair as if she was the queen. Putting her nose in the air, she said with most proud voice she could put up, "I don't need a face mask. It's all in the blood, lover boy," she nodded. She said it in such a way so that he'd know she was joking and not honestly being arrogant about her mother's heritage. "Where to now? Lockers?" she asked, tilting her head in the general direction.

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[ruley]

Naturally, Tyson liked a bit of back and forth with people. Back home, it was rather common for his friends to just devolve into these random conversations that realistically served no point but to make everyone laugh. Most of his friends were from class whom he only rarely had a good laugh with outside of classes. He was glad to be part of the mixed diversity of the quidditch team, people of all age groups and personalities was the perfect staging area for any kind of conversation you could want to have, within reason.

Tyson smirked to himself as he jeered "Whilst we're on the subject, tell you're mum I do like those cookies she sent me last week! Maybe another batch for Christmas?" Obviously, Tyson had no contact with Dominique's parents, but it was all in the fun and games. Tyson was actually interested how much Hermione checked up on her children, attempting possibly to keep them on top of their grades? Or did she know that some didn't need as stern an eye over their shoulder as others? "My audience and I share something in common in the mornings then!" Tyson laughed, his talks always tried to be personal, comment on players performance but always put positive spins on everything, even bad notes had a joke or two that could be pulled out of them in his experience.

"Well that's a gift I don't share, being able to see Jason Conway under a quidditch pitch!" Tyson smiled, hefting his Skyfire N-27 over his shoulder again after dropping the crate. Jason Conway was considered the equivalent of Brad Pitt, a muggle actor his mother often joked about at family parties as she had a previous interest in muggle media, she did her degree on it. Tyson grinned slightly, nodding his head once for effect. "Oh, naturally." With a heavily implied sarcastic undertone, but resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow. "Yes, to the lockers!" He said with gusto, adding: "Unless you want to stay in you're quidditch gear."