edward-midford:

herman-greenhill:

edward-midford:

Herman-Greenhill started to follow you

The young lion stalked the field among fellows of his pack. The crack of bats that sent firm balls soaring through the sky. The sweat and kinship and laughter that rang out. Proud and fearless students one and all, in the face of any opposition - Even among their own dorm for practise. ‘ere the Midford son could be found in the aftermath of practise, hot and bothered as he sprawled upon the short-shorn grass of the only field upon which treading was applicable; with their own prefects permission of course { G R A N T E D } though he was absent, here or there Edward knew not though he could rest easy in the knowledge that he’d worked hard to complete all the duties as expected of a prefects fag in order to enjoy this time.

As the sun beat down, he reflected he ought follow the lead of his friends though the need to rise was at present contested by lethargic limbs. Dressed in cricket whites that were stained with smudging of green from the crushed grass beneath. Still breathing a little heavily. How nice it would be to nap, he reflected. Enjoying the way the moment dragged as if it could last an eternity.

{ Enter, stage left; } G r e e n h i l l

❧ Slight shash of the grass when it gave up under the tall blonde’s feet, step by step the same little sound that somehow appealed to him. But he knew why. It was the green that represented what he held dear, what he loved most. Every patch of emerald grass that when he passed reminded him of a fall -Literally- a shot ball flying faster than his own eyes, and the bang of the bat he now carried, still. 

“Midford” The prefect’s voice resonated across, loud and clear over the silent nothingness that filled the open space. There, an inflating and deflating chest dressed in white stood, a familiar face. Another blonde, his fag, and a man he believed. A man he had to believe, because he was his right hand, in more than one way, both in the field and off. “I bet you are too tired to beat me …once again.” Herman rounded up the boy, speaking seriously and properly but what he would know was a tone of joke. Switching his white bat from his shoulder to touch the grass, a smirk came to view. 

The sharp bark of his name had him turn, a glance over his shoulder as smile met smile. His prefect, that prefect cricket player and honourable man Herman Greenhill. Edward much admired him, that much was obvious in the dedication and attention to detail all duties he took upon were graced with.

“Sir!” He called in firm acknowledgement, all too aware he might be demanded to repeat- and more loudly too. Next words a quieter tone, better suited for light conversation. “Is that a challenge?” He questioned the obvious for comic relief more then anything. More then content to follow the whims of the taller blond.

“There is but one bat and no ball between us.” A slightly lighthearted and playful twist to his tone as he lifted his chin ever so slightly. Having turned properly to meet him face to face.

❧ “Then you will have to do with what you have” Herman swung his bat from left to right, sporting a smile you almost never could see before hiding it again and turning serious once more. “Or you will have to serve as my own ball. Seems like a good day to roll in the grass without a care, doesn’t it?” Could have been a joke, but the prefect spoke gravely. 

A step or two towards where the first wicket of the field stood, the tallest of the two boys began checking their equipment was perfectly hammered into the ground. Of course, this seemed like a rather unnecessary move, since there was no ball, but a safe game before all! Hypocritical, them being without any protection. But again, how could they get hurt without anything to play with? The Green Lion chuckled once. “Ready?”