Post by Blake Riina Kildal on Apr 8, 2010 16:38:47 GMT -5
There was a beat of music in the background, conflicting with the steady rhythm of muffled thumps. A small figure was alone in the gym, working at the punching back, hands taped up and moving the punching bag a bit, setting it swinging. The hits came in rapid succession, followed by a kick before back to the hits, never moving out of balance.
Her pony tail swung with her movements as she glistened from the work out, a nice shiny scar on her shoulder as she worked, one arm obviously not up to speed like the other. She frowned, working her right arm again in rapid succession, bright blue eyes concentrating as she focused on each hit, feeling how it went and unhappy with the lag in time.
She was on edge, with a lot of excess energy stuck in her body. She wanted to fight, to get into a scuffle and a punching bag was as good as she could get. The school didn't have gymnastics equipment, so she had to make do when and where she could, often getting herself into tight situations. She'd also found a few places where the vents came out and found herself worming and crawling through them, disappearing for hours before she dropped down in some new place.
Blake hissed when her hand hit wrong, jolting her from her thoughts and quickly working a few quick punches in, proper form showing. Her shirt had long ago been discarded, leaving her in work out pants and a sports bra, tossed by her water bottle as she caught the bag, letting it settle before moving away to the mats, working on tumbles and her form, practicing take downs, which was far harder without an opponent, but these were designed for military and she needed someone who knew what she was doing and what they were doing, otherwise someone would get hurt. That was the last thing she needed.
Her pony tail swung with her movements as she glistened from the work out, a nice shiny scar on her shoulder as she worked, one arm obviously not up to speed like the other. She frowned, working her right arm again in rapid succession, bright blue eyes concentrating as she focused on each hit, feeling how it went and unhappy with the lag in time.
She was on edge, with a lot of excess energy stuck in her body. She wanted to fight, to get into a scuffle and a punching bag was as good as she could get. The school didn't have gymnastics equipment, so she had to make do when and where she could, often getting herself into tight situations. She'd also found a few places where the vents came out and found herself worming and crawling through them, disappearing for hours before she dropped down in some new place.
Blake hissed when her hand hit wrong, jolting her from her thoughts and quickly working a few quick punches in, proper form showing. Her shirt had long ago been discarded, leaving her in work out pants and a sports bra, tossed by her water bottle as she caught the bag, letting it settle before moving away to the mats, working on tumbles and her form, practicing take downs, which was far harder without an opponent, but these were designed for military and she needed someone who knew what she was doing and what they were doing, otherwise someone would get hurt. That was the last thing she needed.
