Yaris 31, 2714 - Late Afternoon
Cerise could hardly back down now, when she'd started it in the first place. She threw her head back, the chaos of her dark hair going with it. Her face was still shining with sweat, and she watched rather enviously as Siordanti rolled up his sleeves. She wanted to do that too, she thought, but she was less allowed. It wasn't fair. Cerise glanced around. There was nobody else there but the three of them, roasting alive out here while they cleaned up the Lawn. With a frown etched as deep as it could go into her face, she unbuttoned her cuffs and rolled up her own sleeves all the way to the elbow.
"That just sounds like you don't think you can win," Cerise spat, her tender ego bruised further by Siordanti's taunt and the grin that followed it. The color wouldn't leave her face, and that ate at her too. She didn't want to be so easy to read; that was the first step to losing. She'd learn, she told herself stubbornly. Eventually, she'd figure out how.
Oh, and the way he talked to her! Antoinette was "Miss Roumanille", but she had suddenly become just "Cerise". That brought the heat in her blood up too. How dare he, just because he was older. That was a confusing sort of anger, she thought, and it didn't make her any less snappish than she had been. Cerise put her hands on her narrow hips and she sneered right back.
"If you're so confident, then what about a wager? If you win—if you 'char the lawn with me'—then I'll clean up all the rest of this alone. And if I win, you have to. With Miss Roumanille." Truthfully, Cerise didn't think she would win. But she was curious, and she was angry, and she was more than anything too clocking stubborn for her own good. She'd gladly take the risk of having to clean up the rest of the equipment by herself if there was even a sliver of an opportunity for victory. "I know the rules," she added, sullen.
Cerise did her best to hold his eyes, even though she had to look up to do it. That galled her, too, but she didn't know if there was much she could do about that. She was taller than the other girls and many of the boys already, but Siordanti was both basically an adult already and tall by anyone's standards. Well, any galdori standards, which were the only ones Cerise really thought counted here. When he agreed, she haughtily insisted that he be the one to flip for who went first—since he clearly didn't trust her to follow even that much of the rules.
(Really, Cerise simply didn't have any coins in her pockets. She had already spent all her pocket money for the month on books, right down to the last hat.)
They called their sides; Cerise, then, got to go first. No matter how much she knew she shouldn't, the younger student couldn't help but grin. Just a little smug to have the potential advantage. Each took their places, and Cerise even bowed at least somewhat respectfully—whatever else could be said about her, she took this seriously. Going first gave her a little opportunity to collect her thoughts; at least as much as she could in this clocking heat anyway.
After a moment, Cerise made up her mind and began to cast. Nothing fancy, nothing clever—she certainly wouldn't win any points for style with this one—but truthfully? She was a little intimidated. She had perhaps made a rather poor decision, with Roumanille there to witness it, if she failed. But she couldn't have stopped herself even if she wanted to. And even more truthful? She hadn't wanted to.
Cerise formed herself what she thought of as a snowball of force, aiming it rather carefully at Siordanti's right shoulder. She must have stumbled somewhere, because it was less solid than she would have liked—but it hung together, all the same, and her aim was more or less true.