Time to train
#1
[html]
Thread Information
Date: 25 April

Setting: Cour des Miracles, the training grounds

Time: Noon

Character Form: Optime
[/html]

[html]

Here we are.


Desi had been in the territory several days with no problems thus far. She was quite pleased; the girl had expected somebody to have run her off already. Vigilante must have said something to let the pack know, and silently she sent him a thank you. If things went this smoothly everywhere else she spoke to people, she would have a wealth of information about her father. Or at least, she would have all the information readily available to her.


Désirée was weary, though. Not physically, not as young as she was and as little work as she had really had to do, but emotionally she felt very tired. She needed a companion and she needed something to keep her mind busy besides turning the information she did receive over and over in her head. In a spur of the moment inspiration, the woman turned her steps to the first place she could think of from what she had seen and what others had told her about -- the training arena. What better to exercise body and mind than a vigorous work-out?


The grass covered training ground appeared empty, but Desi took her knife from its sheathe anyway and began feinting. She had not donned her dress today, and neither she had not removed the sheathe from its place tied to her thigh, so there was nothing hindering her movements. The woman paused only once; she stuck the weapon tip-first into the ground and stretched her muscles out to prevent them from cramping later. Then she picked up the knife, cleaned off the tip with her fingertips, and then began again.


.


<style>
.desi-z91 .ooc {font-style:italic; }
.desi-z91 p {padding:0px 20px 5px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;}
.desi-z91 b {color:#c687c6; letter-spacing:-.2px;}
.desi-z91 {background-color:#eee7db; background-image:url(http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff26 ... /table.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:230px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #fff; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#000; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:420px; text-align:justify; border-radius:10px; -moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px; }
.desi-z91-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto; border-radius:10px; -moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px; box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A; -moz-box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A; -webkit-box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A;}
</style>[/html]
#2
300+[html]

Adjusting the folds of buckskin in her lap, Anann shoved the thick needle through the first layer of leather and into the next. She had already sewn the longest seam and all that was left was to sew on the circular bottom to what was quickly becoming a new cover for her punching bag. The tubular bag of sand had taken its first year of punishment rather well since she had made it with a double layer to start, but time and use had taken its toll though and it was time to reinforce it again.

She had been working on the project since the late morning hours after she had finished with her morning training. Taking refuge in a lower branch of the large tree to the front of her cabin. It was high enough to give her a view over the top of her cabin, giving her sight over all that she considered to be hers. A favored spot, the bark of the branch had been worn smooth, or smoother than it had once been. Many of the cracks and crevices in its surface held a few amber and gold hairs from the woman's pelt in testament to the time she had spent there. Often with needle and cord as she stitched together one project or another from the leather stash she kept.

Anann had caught the movement of a silvery form from the corner of her eye. She tensed, not ready to deal with Keese's bullshit for the day, but all it took was one look and it was clear that it was not the silver male she had expected. The needle in her hand was momentarily forgotten as she watched the other female begin to practice in the training yard. The tell tale signs of a smile was beginning to pull at her lips, a rare thing as of late. It wasn't too often that there was an unexpected visitor to the training grounds she had created. Though Haven stopped by regularly for their usual sparring sessions. The young collie was unknown to Anann, but there had been a recent tide of new comers with the warminh of the season and so she thought little of it. After watching for awhile Anann slid from her perch, landing with a slight squat before striding out towards the training area, her project left hanging over a limb. "Widen your stance." She advised, though her tone was gruff and she skipped her usual introduction. Had she been her usual self she would have greeted the other with a gentle smile and a softer tone. As it was, this was as bout as good as it got.


<style type="text/css">
.anann003 b {font-weight:bold; color:#8fb5b6; letter-spacing:1px; }
.anann003ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#c7dadb; text-align:right;}
.anann003 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;}
.anann003 {margin:0 auto; width:347px; background-color:#000200; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/ ... ann003.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #aebabb; padding: 200px 0px 5px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#aebabb; line-height:12px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]


Forum Jump: