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Post by michael on May 11, 2009 19:01:53 GMT
Michael swerved to the right as the tennis ball came zooming down the court, dipping down with his racket to fiercely shoot it back towards the wall. It bounced back, in ordinary accordance with the laws of physics. It fell down to the floor about 10 feet away. Michael sighed. 'I need a partner.' his head thought, craving a bit more excitement than a bounce. 'In every sense,' nagged another voice, possibly his libido. He brushed both of them out of his mind and wacked the ball again ferociously, and continued his practice. |
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Post by Sebastian Quinn on May 12, 2009 14:31:31 GMT
All those years of practice. All those late afternoons and sore shoulders. All of it had been for nothing. He had been good enough, more than good enough. "Best backhand I've seen in decades." That was the sort of things they used to say, showering him with compliments and praises. Sebastian had loved the attention, had cherished the dreams of Wimbledon and the cool, soothing, metal touch of a trophy in his hands. "He could have been a contender." But it had all been for nothing. He was supposed to be the best, and he had become the best, yet his father (his dear father) had thrown him of his pedastal as soon as he had obtained it. The sports world was not the place for an aspiring politician. Yes, one could be interested in sports, but one needed to be more focused in other things: current affairs, politics, history and debate. So that's what Sebastian became, starting again from scratch and clawing his way back to the top of that shining pedastal, bit by bit.
However that wouldn't stop him from enjoying the sport. Sebastian hitched his tennis racket upon his shoulder. The wall was going to be his opponent tonight, strong and sturdy and never varying. When he reached the large double doors that led into the Somnium Academy Sports Hall, he paused. Someone else was already there. Sebastian could hear them, the light thump of running feet and the hurried breaths of energised lungs. With curiosity he pushed open one of the doors by the slightest amount, revealing the figure of the other person through the crack. Dark hair and slim build, Sebastian recognised the person in an instant--Michael Evans.
He rolled his eyes. He was seeing a lot of Michael Evans lately. Not only was this boy encrouching on his classroom life with his supposed verbal prowess, but it seemed he was also taking up space in Sebastian's own sporting sanctuary (the fact the the Sports Hall was open to all students was defunct in his mind). With a loud and obvious bang, Sebastian pushed the door wide open, finally making his presence known. |
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Post by michael on May 14, 2009 19:47:53 GMT
Michael nearly jumped out of skin when he heard the huge bang, though he wouldn't show it. 'Certainly got an eye for drama you have,' he joked to Sebastian Quinn when he saw who it was, 'you should join us up in the Assembly Hall for lessons. Tenner bet you could pen a brilliant Shakespearean-style tradgedy.' He absent mindedly swung his racket through the air, trying to practice his swing. 'Fancy a friendly? I should warn you, I'm pretty powerful server.'
(Sucky size I know  ) |
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Post by Sebastian Quinn on May 15, 2009 14:55:48 GMT
Sebastian supressed the urge to roll his eyes and instead flashed Michael with his generic 'charming smile'. Why was he as if they were friends? But Sebastian supposed he had never once given the other boy any impression of the deep-seated dislike that he held for him. For all Michael knew, Sebastian Quinn was an upstanding young man; friendly and polite, if ever so slightly mysterious. That was how he was meant to be seen by the general public after all.
Ignoring Michael's remark about him being perfect as a Shakespearean actor (although noting in his mind that he would be an ideal Hamlet), Sebastian walked over to the boy, swinging his tennis racket casually by his side.
"I'll take your challenge," he replied, tossing Michael the tennis ball that he had in his pocket. "You can serve first and then I'll be the judge of how good you really are." He give Michael a quick, almost unnoticeable, wink, and made his way to the other side of the net. He was not going to lose of this one. |
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Post by michael on May 15, 2009 18:31:37 GMT
'I'll be the judge of how good you really are.'
Did he just wink at me? Probably his imagination. Michael caught the ball, keeping his eye on Sebastian. He walked over to the right of his side of the court, tossed the ball up, then brought his racket around, hitting it pretty hard, but it could've been harder with his capacity. none the less, it zoomed over the net, well into the right of Sebastian's side. He was already into the game, swerving his body left to right rhythmatically to prepare for the ball that would probably return soon. Sebastian used to be a really good tennis player. That was before he had to quit the team after hid father forced him. He had to pity the guy. Forced into politics and debates. He was good at those things, a good rival to him in the English room. But now they were on the tennis court. and he strongly suspected that Sebastian would be the better. |
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Post by Sebastian Quinn on May 16, 2009 16:06:08 GMT
Sebastian was mot sure why he had winked at Michael moments ago. It was something he often did with girls, such a small gesture was enough to charm the majority of girls, but of course Michael was a boy, and an annoying one at that. Sebastian had little time to ponder the occurence further as, in a flash of green, a tennis ball shot across to his right side.
Basic instincts were thrown into play. Sebastian dived to where the ball had landed and quickly returned it to the other side of the net before it could make it's second bounce. Michael had not been wrong to say his serve was powerful, Sebastian couldn't disagree with that despite how much he wanted to.
"Not bad," he muttered, regaining composure. How he loved this game.
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Post by michael on May 22, 2009 17:34:26 GMT
It would be better this time. This is just like dancing. Throw your emotions into it, let it flow out into the world. Today he had gone down to practice tennis just for some exercise, not for stress release. It seemed likely that it would work as that too though.
As the ball came directly towards him, he brought up a lightning fast slideshow of thoughts: his intolerant father he had to hide from; his confusion for the last 4 years over his sexuality. However, rather than swing round in some epic slow motion swing to fire the ball at an incomphrehensible speed, he simply overshot himself. The racket slipped past the ball.
'Shit!', Michael shouted as the ball bounce off to the other side of the gym. 'I'll get it.' He ran to retrieve it from under a climbing apparatus, hiding his face from Sebastian. 'Your turn right?' Michael's grasp of the rules of tennis was quite poor, as it was for most sport. he wasn't sure why he had challeneged one of Somnium's former greatest. He tossed the ball back over the net to his opponent. |
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Post by Sebastian Quinn on May 30, 2009 7:41:45 GMT
It seemed that Michael was not as talented on the tennis court as he was in the debating classroom. Sebastian was glad of this. Not that he would have been jealous if the contrary were true, of course not. Jealousy was such a flimsy emotion. "No need for such an emotion as jealousy if one was the best at everything," that would have been undoubtedly what his dear father would remark were he present and able to read Sebastian's thoughts.
He watched as the other boy rooted around under the climbing apparatus to retrieve the stray ball, one dark eyebrow slightly raised upon his brow. Sebastian wondered briefly whether Michael had even the faintest idea of his contempt towards him. No, probably not; and of course he preferred it that way. With the quick reflexes of someone with years of training, Sebastian caught the ball that had been thrown at him with ease.
"Indeed," Sebastian said in response to Michael's query. "You're not too bad at this game," he partially lied, compliments were always a good way to create an amiable atmosphere. "Apart from that last fumble," he added, this time including a smile and a slight chuckle--a perfect combination that had proved him well in the past.
Sebastian moved towards the back of the net and bounced the ball upon the court once, twice, priming his serve. Then, in a flurry of wind, tennis racket and arm, the ball flew the the air, and with incredible force, over to the other side of the net. |
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Post by michael on Jun 5, 2009 18:30:50 GMT
Michael winced slightly. It was so embarrasing, having had to admit to not being sure of such a basic rule, and after such a miss as well. He would hit the ball this time. he would make sure of it. He focused his mind body and soul on the ball that Sebastian was bouncing, staring at it, readying himself. The ball rocketed at him, and he swung round, channeling the same emotions as last time, but this time funnelling it into the action of hitting the ball. With a whacking noise, the ball bounced right back over the court, slightly slower than Sebastian's serve, and struck the floor on the other side. |
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