The sun peaked over the horizon, painting everything in Darcy’s path with vibrant shades of color. If she had grown up to be an artist, she might have tried to find a way to capture the beauty of it forever. Likewise, if she had been a writer, she would have wanted to dedicate a thousand words to the variety of shades and textures dancing across the pavement beneath her feet. Maybe, if she had been a normal muggle like the rest of her family, she would have delved into something involving science, to better understand how this phenomenon came to pass each morning and each night, when the world changed colors according to the time of day.
Instead, Darcy continued putting one foot in front of the other, pushing herself to move just a little bit faster instead of daydreaming about colors and their complexity. She did this now; considered the alternatives for her life, simultaneously shutting each and every one of them down in favor of pushing herself harder in her Quidditch career. It was a strange form of perseverance. Or maybe it was just a better way to remind herself what she was fighting for.
Slowing to a walk, she rested her hands on her hips and tried to regulate her breathing, starting to mental clock on the five-minute break between sprints. Her eyes watched the progress of the sun over buildings, enjoying the privacy that early hours offered her, until she spotted a figure approaching in the distance. A slow smile creeped onto her face and she stopped, letting them come to her. “Don’t you know this sidewalk is reserved?” Sarcastic, though by the tone of her voice, a random stranger would have been terrified all the same.
6 am wakeup, one cup of coffee to keep her from suffering the world’s worst headache, and by 6:30, Eliza was out for her morning run. Armed with a bottle of water and something called and “ipod” she’d bought on the muggle side of London, she pulled on her sneakers and set off. She started slow, a jog to get her blood moving, though as her playlist clicked over from a slower song to something faster, Eliza turned up the speed.
The adrenaline was the best kind of high, and it pushed her to run faster and farther lately. Eliza could feel her muscles protesting; she hadn’t stretched beforehand like she should have, but it’d be okay. At least her head wasn’t fogged up. With the headphones in and her music blaring, Eliza was lost in her own world. She was thinking about all the rest of the things she needed to do today. Quality Quidditch supplies for the team’s latest equipment needs. Practice, where she’d coach more than manage. Then it was broom repairs and laundry and collecting the balls until everyone else had left the training facility and she could finally, finally get on a broom herself...
And then she’d have to rush home, feed her cat, and make it to midget practice to teach some 10-year-olds how to dodge a bludger. So this time, this hour or so before the rest of the world woke up, was precious...and someone was interrupting it.
At first, Eliza assumed the figure up ahead wasn’t talking to her at all, but then she recognized that they were in a fairly deserted patch of street and she yanked one earbud out to survey the person in front of her. Darcy. Of course. Slowing to a stop and taking a swig of water, Eliza let her breathing even out before she bothered to respond. “I don’t see your name on it,” she murmured, coupled with the patented Blythe eyeroll. “Fancy meeting you here.” As if it was the first time this had happened.
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