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Posted by _noblesseoblige on 2005.12.09 at 16:35
Current Mood: scaredscared
Place: Quidditch pitch
Time: Evening (day...3? I can't remember what day we're supposed to be on.)
Tag: Anyone



/I must not fear,/ said Vale to herself, repeating a mantra her father had taught her. /Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total oblivion./

How useful this mantra actually was was rather subjective. On one hand, it was very true that fears were primarily in the mind and that it was fear that gripped one, freezing them into inaction until it was too late. On the other hand, some fears were rational. Frightening experiences developed caution, a much more admirable approach than bald fear. In Vale's case, the experience was taking a bludger to the stomach and plumetting to the ground from over 100 feet in the air. Weeks bedridden in the finest magical hospital in France, only half of them conscious, had been the end result.

It had been a great surprise to everyone when Vale returned to playing Quidditch at Beauxbatons after the incident, particular since it was clear to anyone that got close that she was positively terrified. Despite her efforts to act normal, her friends knew that it was fear and not anticipation that got caused her intense focus and excitement when playing the sport.

To this day, Vale had never approached playing quidditch the same away again. Every practice she attended and every game she played was a direct confrontation of her fear. Not that she'd tell anyone that she was afraid. Part of this whole exercise in confronting her fear of falling was a matter of pride in the fact that she controlled her fears instead of being controlled by them.

Vale took a few deep breaths, mounted her broom, and flew onto the pitch. Even still, she tried not to look down and thanked whatever divine beings that might exist that she was the Slytherin Keeper and not the Seeker.

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