The hip bones connected to the back bone;;Closed.

[Gavin Dewhurst]

give me fuel, give me fire

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( GIVE ME THAT WHICH I DESIRE )
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burn your face upon the chrome,

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(QUENCH MY THIRST WITH GASOLINE)[/center]

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outfit: Gear
tags: Wilhelm
credit: gabs of a different color; @ caution 2.0[/ul][/size][/font][/left]

[Deleted]

Wilhelm’s yell echoed loudly through the weight room as the barbell he was holding clanked to the ground. Breathing heavily, he brought his hands to his hips and lowered his head. He had been in here for a little over an hour now with the place to himself. It was just the way he liked it. No distractions and the ability to use the equipment whenever he wanted without having to wait for something. It was why he often came down to small gym when the weather was bad outside. Most students weren’t brave enough to face the strong winds and heavy rain that came with Austrian storms. Not that he could blame them of course. Wilhelm had very nearly been blown over by a large gust of wind into the Great Lake as he had walked down the muddy path to the pitch earlier. The weather didn’t bother him though. After a harrowing experience of being locked out in one by his older brothers when the boys had been left home alone when he was eleven, he hadn’t been afraid of them since. There was nothing quite like facing your fears head on. At least that’s what his brothers had told him. As much as he hated to admit it, they were right. Lightning and thunder had always been intimidating to him, but once being surrounded by it outside, it had subsided. His brothers were the reasons why Wilhelm wasn’t afraid of many things. Their “encouragement” always wound up stirring him in the right direction, though he would never confess this to them. Looking up, he stared through the window facing the stadium. It was still horrible outside, but the rain seemed worse than anything at this point.

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes as he released a deep sigh. He had done everything he could at this point. Stretching, strength training, cardio. His afternoon workout was more or less complete. Three more of these and Wilhelm would be in prime shape for the final Quidditch match of the season. The big one. Gryffindor was set to face Slytherin in the Quidditch Cup for a match that was surely to be brutal. Theirs always were. With as much disdain the members of each had for one another, the school really couldn’t expect anything less. That was the way he preferred it though. It always made for a great Quidditch match. Plus the chance to beat on those douchebags without getting detention were chances he never wanted to pass up. He was dangerous with a bat and a bludger. It wasn’t any secret. Because of that, he felt like he had expectations to leave up to and he didn’t want to leave his teammates, opponents, fans, or himself, disappointed. Righting his head, Wilhelm looked around the room. He needed to stop for the day. Not because he wanted to but because he didn’t want to wear himself out. The last thing he needed to happen was to sprain something before the big game. Walking over to his gym bag, he lowered himself to the balls of his feet and searched for his towel. Once he grabbed it, he proceeded to wipe down his sweaty head and neck. The more he sweat, the better workout he knew he had and that always made him feel good about himself. Dropping the towel into the bag, he then picked up his water bottle and took a big swig from it. It was the best way to replace all the water he had lost from sweating. Wilhelm put the cap back onto his bottle and allowed it to rejoin the towel in his bag. Before he closed it for good, he pulled out his wand and pointed it to the bag. “Impervius,” he muttered, bewitching the bag to become water repellant so the items inside wouldn’t be damaged.

As soon as he was settled, Wilhelm slid his arm through the strap of the bag and lifted himself up. It was time to head back to the castle to rinse off and grab a bite to eat. He had definitely worked up an appetite from his time in the weight room. He might as well reward himself for a job well done with a sandwich or four. Walking to the door, he opened it as he approached and turned to the left towards the locker rooms once he had shut it. He had left his broom in his locker for safe keeping during his workout. He really hadn’t had any reason for bringing it down with him, but he always felt compelled to whenever he made any sort of visit to the pitch. More often than not, the urge to take flight overwhelmed Wilhelm and he found it impossible to leave without spending a few minutes in the air. As he reached his locker, he put in the combination and pulled down on the device once it had been unlocked. Grasping the handle with his fingers, he opened the door and reached in for his broom, relieved that nothing had happened to it. It was unlikely for any players to have their gear tampered with in the locker rooms, but he was never comfortable leaving any of his things alone for an extended period of time. Though times he did wish someone would try to mess with his stuff. It’d give him all the reason he’d need to give the guy a beating into the next century. Closing the locker, Wilhelm placed the broom end of the stick over his shoulder and held on to the other. Fortunately, his SkyRocket 360 had the water-repelling spell built into it so he didn’t have to worry about protecting it before embarking out into the rain. Turning on his heel, he made his way to the back of the locker room where the exit was. He could hear the rain pouring on the rooftop of the building as he got closer to the door. He was going to be soaked by the time he got back to the castle.

Pushing open the door, Wilhelm let himself out and was covered in raindrops before the door even closed. He wished he had brought along a jacket now. His legs broke out into a jog almost instantly after leaving the building. He had been going for a couple of seconds when a swishing sound came to his ears. Puzzled, he stopped, his eyes instinctively going towards the pitch. Sure enough, within a short amount of time he saw someone flying above him, surrounded by the various balls needed in a Quidditch game. Someone had decided to have his own little practice. The rider was too far away for him to identify but his curiosity had been provoked. Resuming his jog towards the first opening into the pitch, Wilhelm proceeded towards the middle. As he grew closer, he recognized the green and silver clothing of a Slytherin. No one else would wear those awful colors. His eyes narrowed as the flier stopped what he was doing upon noticing him. Clearly his presence wasn’t welcomed. He couldn’t help but to grin. He kept his position as the stranger dived in his direction. If he was trying to be intimidated, the brute was going to have to do a lot harder than that. Once the guy had jumped from his broom, Wilhelm’s grin grew even wider. Dewhurst. Merlin he hated that idiot with a passion. Like him, Dewhurst came from a wealthy family but he lived up to the rich stereotype more than he had ever had. The way he carried himself around the school disgusted Wilhelm. Like he was so much better than everyone. He made himself hated. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” He chuckled as the taller boy got closer. “Is that anyway to greet a spectator?” Was it bad to be this satisfied with being so unwelcome to someone? “Get the hell of my pitch!” Something snapped within him. His pitch? Was he that delusional? Laughing, he stepped towards Gavin as he finally approached. “Your pitch? I’m sorry Dewhurst. I didn’t realize your name was plastered on every part of this pitch. If I did, I surely wouldn’t have stepped into your pitch.”

Wilhelm looked up at the boy, the desire to punch him in his face growing. “What’s the matter? Is this place not big enough for the both of us? Because if that’s the case, you should have left when you saw me coming.”