Training Room (Coryn Garore, Open)
Apr 10, 2010 11:13:56 GMT -5
Post by -xXInverted FlyingJennyXx- on Apr 10, 2010 11:13:56 GMT -5
OCC: Hey y'all. This is a thread meant for Coryn and Amethyst in training but is open to all who are training. Just clearing that up. (:
Amethyst
School was frustrating today. Why couldn't some people just understand so we could move on? I mean, the subject was so simple. We haven't hit the hard stuff yet. Why must they make school so boring?
Jon and I walk homeward in silence--both the usual kind and the telepathic kind, for once. He knows I'm going to the TC (training center) again; it's where I always go when I'm frustrated, and he definitely knows I'm frustrated right now. He's lagging behind, reading his newest novel on the amplification of some sort of virus again, accompanying me just to make sure I get there safely, although he denies it. I'm not following you; I'm going to the woods through the opening behind the TC, he always says. I've checked him on that before, and it's rarely true. I don't think I'll spy on him today. Not physically, at least. In my head, I usually have a sense of where he is.
We get to the TC, where I say over my shoulder as I open the door, "Don't forget to tell Mom I'm at the TC and not at the orphanage. Last time you forgot, she ended up scolding me for the longest time about not letting her know where I was. She doesn't have the same internal sight as we do." Then, I open the door and slip into the air-conditioned smelly place. No matter what they do to it, it'll always have that slight odor.
There aren't many people in here just yet. I store my backpack on a shelf and stretch before walking over to the punching bag, where I always go when I'm frustrated. For the next minute, I rain down upon the bag a fury of fists, releasing all the emotion I've felt all day. I'm in my own world. I don't hear anything, feel anything, see anything. I just smell the ugly odor of training and taste my own burning frustration.
Amethyst
School was frustrating today. Why couldn't some people just understand so we could move on? I mean, the subject was so simple. We haven't hit the hard stuff yet. Why must they make school so boring?
Jon and I walk homeward in silence--both the usual kind and the telepathic kind, for once. He knows I'm going to the TC (training center) again; it's where I always go when I'm frustrated, and he definitely knows I'm frustrated right now. He's lagging behind, reading his newest novel on the amplification of some sort of virus again, accompanying me just to make sure I get there safely, although he denies it. I'm not following you; I'm going to the woods through the opening behind the TC, he always says. I've checked him on that before, and it's rarely true. I don't think I'll spy on him today. Not physically, at least. In my head, I usually have a sense of where he is.
We get to the TC, where I say over my shoulder as I open the door, "Don't forget to tell Mom I'm at the TC and not at the orphanage. Last time you forgot, she ended up scolding me for the longest time about not letting her know where I was. She doesn't have the same internal sight as we do." Then, I open the door and slip into the air-conditioned smelly place. No matter what they do to it, it'll always have that slight odor.
There aren't many people in here just yet. I store my backpack on a shelf and stretch before walking over to the punching bag, where I always go when I'm frustrated. For the next minute, I rain down upon the bag a fury of fists, releasing all the emotion I've felt all day. I'm in my own world. I don't hear anything, feel anything, see anything. I just smell the ugly odor of training and taste my own burning frustration.
