This whole week has been a lot. At the start of the school year the reminder that he was expected to be some sort of guide and role model to an entire team had filled Eddy with stabs of anxiety and dread. It had surely been the result of Youngblood playing alcohol fueled darts with the roster. But in the days approaching this first match it had been a mercy to escape all the stray thoughts whipping around his head and focus instead on getting ten other people ready to face off together as a team.
In spite of worries about allergies and fashion faux pas, they'd come together and played a solid opener. Bringing home the win was just the cherry. But pulling through in the end to be the last man standing meant the team could put their anxieties to rest. For today at least.
Eddy's not so selfless that there isn't a small pleased smile of victory on his face when he lands, completely understated compared to how much every molecule of his being is zinging.
Every member of the team gets an awkward "good game" and a clap on the back afterwards, but he doesn't offer even the slightest resistance to more exuberant displays.
After the JV game, Armani screeches like a banshee and charges across the field to leap onto Eddy in an aggressive hug. At least this time he's not beaten and bruised.
So, okay, maybe Hawthorne ate feathers pretty early in play, but did you see him? Guys?! Did you SEE him?!?! He FLEW. And didn't DIE or kill anyone ELSE while on a broom. To top it all off, Peckenpaugh had seen double victories today. You'd've thought this one scored the winning goal of the game the way he's beaming.
He hadn't expected to be so excited. Delight radiates off of him, thrilled as a kid on Christmas morning to have even gotten the opportunity to fly. It doesn't matter that he would've flown either way. He seeks out his captains, and the varsity captains, for thanks and any critique they might have. (Not the time, Hawthorne) And he's even completely kind to his siblings after the day.
Chanel Addams doesn't get nervous. She works hard. Which is exactly what she's been doing for the past few weeks. Still. The new responsibility of actually having to coach and teach the cheer squad had her a little tightly wound. The opportunity to glow up the buses with glitter paper was actually exactly what she needed to let loose before the game. She proudly notes her opposition's new hair piece.
The routines she's been teaching are flashy, and somewhat dance-centric, which is her forte, but with plenty of room for throwing people straight up into the air. Today's only the first time, but she's still looking for nothing less than perfection both for herself and everyone else on the team. The cheers she's come up with herself are usually about graphic murder. She tried to come up with a signature murder for everyone on the team, like: "Eviscerate them, scream and shout, Wyatt, turn their insides out!" and like the moral of this story is that they'll probably be doing generic school cheers for a little while if anyone's listening hard enough.
But she's very proud of everyone afterward, and says so.
This had been her first game without Jupiter, he secret weapon strategist. And, actually, it was fine? It was more than fine. It was great. The stars must have aligned, the team's energy was in sync. It's an auspicious start to the season.
Her excitement is still a little manic, though; all fizzing energy face-splitting grins. When she lands, she looses her hair from its ponytail and it spills out in perfect windswept golden waves. Her face is still smeared with her own blood. Valkyrie doesn't need anyone to tell her, she already knows she looks gorgeous.
The team gets swept into tight embraces, each one getting heaps of praise. Later they can go over their performances in detail, today they can just celebrate.
A secret. Even before he has to confront his behavior with Eddy, he's been really, really nervous about this game, actually. The week between his Big Face Change and this game has been filled with practice. He even took meditation a little more seriously than he would've normally. The whole move to varsity has come with more doubt than he likes, and more than once, he'd found himself wondering why he didn't just stay on Eddy's team. It would've been fun. Much less pressure. Much less glory, too, so there's probably the answer to that.
With this combined with his promise to Laszlo to not get injured, which also weighs on his mind a little more seriously than he thought, it's with a healthy dose of self-doubt that Tybalt hits the pitch, today. The result is he tries this new thing called teamwork. And that, miraculously, seems to have been the right move. He doesn't score anything himself, but he's part of some good passes and plays that set good things up for his team. And he lasts a lot longer than most. It's not a bad day. Thank god. He doesn't try to glory-hog at all, but seeks out everyone on his team to congratulate (making a POINT to hang off Felicity for a moment and crow what a good JOB she did and what a good TEAM they make.) He lands amid celebration with an uncharacteristically soft sigh of relief.
The whistle blows, and the game is over. Laszlo keeps shaking his pom-poms from the back row until the teams have both landed, then he waits patiently for the congratulation ritual to end. He watches everyone shake hands, hug, and tell each other how well they did. It should give Laszlo plenty of time to come up with something good to say, but he doesn't do much with it.
Cheerleaders start breaking the line, and Laszlo slips past the Addams twins with a quiet I'll be right back. Soon he's standing in front of Tybalt, and the first thing he does is pluck a feather from his wild hair. "Mites," he 'explains'.
While he's about to open his mouth and point out to Laszlo exactly how well he kept his promise, his litany is cut off before it even starts. Mites are a danger that heretofore have never crossed his mind, but he finds himself shaking out the back of his mess of curls with a hand to loosen a few more feathers. Just in case. "Mites?"
"Feather mites," Laszlo 'elaborates'. He stops with his hands up, trying to determine his next move. There are certain boundaries he shouldn't cross. But sometimes the context can make it acceptable. There's a reason for him to do this. The impulse has already settled in.
"Wait," he interjects before Tybalt can muss his curls any further. "I can—" He doesn't want to give any warning, just in case he's stopped. Laszlo reaches out and brushes his hand through Tybalt's hair.
His hair probably doesn't itch right away like he thinks it does, but Tybalt wrinkles his nose anyway. He, obediently, holds very still and allows Laszlo to try to pluck them out.The cursory brush, though, doesn't do much. With the wind and feathers combined, it's a veritable rat's nest up there. "They're not fatal, are they?"
"Only to birds," he says, although he honestly knows very little about birds or mites.
Laszlo sighs, defeated, but Tybalt looks just fine even with his hair in tangles, full of bits of feathers. He always does. "Take a shower tonight. I—you can just brush them out."
He picks out the most complete feather he found in Tybalt's hair, looks at it for a second, then pockets it. It's not the weirdest thing Tybalt's seen Laszlo keep for undisclosed reasons. "Congratulations."
As much as he flies, he's not a bird. So he's probably fine here. He tilts his head, curious, at the disappearing feather. But he doesn't ask. It's true. He's seen Laszlo pocket stranger things. And he's probably actually going to test for mites, which is objectively a pretty good thing. He leaves it in favor of grinning. This shouldn't be something to brag about, but he does, anyway. "And I didn't die once."
"You look very alive," Dr. Pataki assesses. Tybalt had stayed on his broom, and Laszlo's pretty sure he prefers quods to bludgers. Even with all the explosions and feathers, broken bones seem minimal. Besides, the feathers are probably harmless. Saying otherwise was just an excuse. An alibi for his own terrible heart.
Laszlo doesn't know why he can't do this without the preamble and misdirection. He should say something more tender.
ON THE PITCH: Players & Cheerleaders
ON THE PITCH: Eddy
In spite of worries about allergies and fashion faux pas, they'd come together and played a solid opener. Bringing home the win was just the cherry. But pulling through in the end to be the last man standing meant the team could put their anxieties to rest. For today at least.
Eddy's not so selfless that there isn't a small pleased smile of victory on his face when he lands, completely understated compared to how much every molecule of his being is zinging.
Every member of the team gets an awkward "good game" and a clap on the back afterwards, but he doesn't offer even the slightest resistance to more exuberant displays.
Re: ON THE PITCH: Eddy
ON THE PITCH: Hawthorne
He hadn't expected to be so excited. Delight radiates off of him, thrilled as a kid on Christmas morning to have even gotten the opportunity to fly. It doesn't matter that he would've flown either way. He seeks out his captains, and the varsity captains, for thanks and any critique they might have. (Not the time, Hawthorne) And he's even completely kind to his siblings after the day.
ON THE (SIDE OF) THE PITCH: Chanel
The routines she's been teaching are flashy, and somewhat dance-centric, which is her forte, but with plenty of room for throwing people straight up into the air. Today's only the first time, but she's still looking for nothing less than perfection both for herself and everyone else on the team. The cheers she's come up with herself are usually about graphic murder. She tried to come up with a signature murder for everyone on the team, like: "Eviscerate them, scream and shout, Wyatt, turn their insides out!" and like the moral of this story is that they'll probably be doing generic school cheers for a little while if anyone's listening hard enough.
But she's very proud of everyone afterward, and says so.
ON THE PITCH: Valkyrie
Her excitement is still a little manic, though; all fizzing energy face-splitting grins. When she lands, she looses her hair from its ponytail and it spills out in perfect windswept golden waves. Her face is still smeared with her own blood. Valkyrie doesn't need anyone to tell her, she already knows she looks gorgeous.
The team gets swept into tight embraces, each one getting heaps of praise. Later they can go over their performances in detail, today they can just celebrate.
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt
With this combined with his promise to Laszlo to not get injured, which also weighs on his mind a little more seriously than he thought, it's with a healthy dose of self-doubt that Tybalt hits the pitch, today. The result is he tries this new thing called teamwork. And that, miraculously, seems to have been the right move. He doesn't score anything himself, but he's part of some good passes and plays that set good things up for his team. And he lasts a lot longer than most. It's not a bad day. Thank god. He doesn't try to glory-hog at all, but seeks out everyone on his team to congratulate (making a POINT to hang off Felicity for a moment and crow what a good JOB she did and what a good TEAM they make.) He lands amid celebration with an uncharacteristically soft sigh of relief.
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt & Laszlo
Cheerleaders start breaking the line, and Laszlo slips past the Addams twins with a quiet I'll be right back. Soon he's standing in front of Tybalt, and the first thing he does is pluck a feather from his wild hair. "Mites," he 'explains'.
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt & Laszlo
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt & Laszlo
"Wait," he interjects before Tybalt can muss his curls any further. "I can—" He doesn't want to give any warning, just in case he's stopped. Laszlo reaches out and brushes his hand through Tybalt's hair.
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt & Laszlo
It's mostly a joke.
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt & Laszlo
Laszlo sighs, defeated, but Tybalt looks just fine even with his hair in tangles, full of bits of feathers. He always does. "Take a shower tonight. I—you can just brush them out."
He picks out the most complete feather he found in Tybalt's hair, looks at it for a second, then pockets it. It's not the weirdest thing Tybalt's seen Laszlo keep for undisclosed reasons. "Congratulations."
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt & Laszlo
ON THE PITCH: Tybalt & Laszlo
Laszlo doesn't know why he can't do this without the preamble and misdirection. He should say something more tender.
"Are you allergic to dander?" Maybe next time.