Collateral Damage

[Ashai Sutekh]

• Ashai was roaming. It was early evening, though the day visitors of the market had not yet wholly dispersed, the alcohol tents not as busy as they could be, and the less wholesome night entertainment had not quite emerged from the shadows. Having tried some British Butterbeer - and spat it all out on the grass afterwards, because that was some sickening shit - he had taken off on a lonely prowl of the place.
  
  The market didn't interest him much. But aside from training for the final, which took up plenty of hours in the day, and some extra flying he did when he didn't feel inclined to socialise with his teammates, there was little to do. He could stay cooped up in his tent in the outpost, but that was precisely all he'd done, and he was starting to worry he might go mad before the finals even came around.
  
  But he didn't want to see Hogsmeade, he had no intention of exploring further. Britain. How could these little islands think themselves the rulers of the world? How did they believe they had the right to meddle in Egypt's affairs? To top it all off, they were lousy Quidditch players.
  
  Paying little attention to his surroundings, then, he marched along confined to his own head. Snatches of conversation floated past, but most of it was incomprehensible, and it was not as though he presumed to care. However, a rather abrupt shout accosted his ear, and he looked over his shoulder, seeing that he'd just unwittingly knocked over one of the displayed platters at a food stand. Ashai peered down at the food littering the ground. He didn't understand the stall-owner's words, but by the tone, he could figure. He stood, unresponsive.

  

[Layla Walmsley]

• That Egypt had won their first game came as no surprise to Layla, who feltùquite biasedly, reallyùthat they were plainly the superior team. Still, she had been a little put out, as it meant they could not return home until summer's end: while she had had high hopes for her jaunt abroad, Britain had not risen to meet her expectations. Staying in a tent, even one as luxurious as her own, was not as glamorous as she might have envisioned, and the men she had met, like her late husband, had lacked spark.
  
  It was without any real purpose that she made her way through the tents in the marketplace, desperate for some sort of diversion. Her brother, though a dear companion, could not always be relied upon to entertain her, and a woman in her position was, in this place, not accepted anywhere interesting after darkùwhich was coming swiftly. She might have found the night to be a waste entirely, had it not been livenedùslightlyùby the sight of one of her brother's teammates being verbally abused by another man. Though not particularly acquainted with Sutekh as she was with some of the other players, but was reluctant to see her countryman endure any such treatment.
  
  The stall worker was red in the face with anger, and would not allow Layla a word in when she tried to intervene calmly (if half-heartedly). Liking neither his tone nor his dismissal, the witch quite brazenly elected to slap him.