Who: Falmouth vs Puddlemere
What: Quidditch happenings
Where: Puddlmere Stadium/St. Mungo's
When: 3 December
Rating: Gen
Status: Complete


He could hear the bludger faintly over the sound of the crowd, but it seemed distant. Zigzagging just to be sure Marcus raced towards goal, passing off to Min and then racing forward to catch the pass on. It was a move they'd practiced a lot, utilizing all three Chasers in a spiraling v. It was one of the newer plays that had given them such an advantage in their previous matches; the ones he'd been Captain for anyway. He caught sight of his cousin in his peripheral vision and readied the the final pass, shifting his weight, he released the ball, lobbing it to Min just as something smashed into his side.

The pain was instant and intense enough for his vision to grey alarmingly. He tried to hang on, to keep his balance but the force of the blow already had him half off the broom and he was holding on with one arm. Two things registered in his brain. One, Dominic had a clear shot on goal and would definitely score. Two, he couldn't really breathe properly. Why couldn't he breathe? Something had snapped when the bludger had hit, he'd felt it go, a rib or two most probably. He tried to gasp down as much air as he could, whilst at the same time struggling to right himself on the broom.

He knew he was slipping and if he fell; he glanced down, well there would be a mess. Gritting his teeth, he tried one last time to haul himself back upright onto the broom, raising his right arm (the one on the injured side) to catch hold of the broom. It was too much, a searing pain burned through his chest and he blacked out completely, brain deciding that it didn't want to register anymore of that agony.