Gym - after classes - 2/10, Tuesday
Liir stared at the punching bag. The punching bag stared back at him.
He couldn't hit it, wouldn't hit it. What had it done to him, after all? Of course, it could take the hit, would feel nothing, would not be damaged even a scratch, but he couldn't find it in himself to just... hit it. No games, no lies, just aggression.
He'd tried once for Professor Deadpool's class and while practicing for Ino, but it'd always been slightly unnatural, against his grain. Like hitting himself, in a way. Wrong. He'd only really accomplished it by making it a game, thinking of it like a gooseball. But it'd come up again, talking to Dinah the other day, during class today, even to some extent talking to Professor Atreides about what he wanted to do, what he hoped to do.
So he was going to have to learn. He might have magic, might be learning how to use it, but the world didn't change by words alone. If anyone had taught him that, it was his mother.
Get angry, Thropp. Get mad. Snap. Lose it. Hit the bag like it's--like it's the Wizard!
But that just produced a glare, a formidable one to be sure, but a glare all the same. Ridiculous, when it was really just a punching bag.
Woman's anger. That's all you've got. Slow, cold, calculating woman's anger. Sarima would laugh at you.
She did laugh at me. Frequently. When she deigned to notice me.
There you go then.
And now he was talking to himself. Brilliant.
[open for later gym use or any throppishness you might require!]
He couldn't hit it, wouldn't hit it. What had it done to him, after all? Of course, it could take the hit, would feel nothing, would not be damaged even a scratch, but he couldn't find it in himself to just... hit it. No games, no lies, just aggression.
He'd tried once for Professor Deadpool's class and while practicing for Ino, but it'd always been slightly unnatural, against his grain. Like hitting himself, in a way. Wrong. He'd only really accomplished it by making it a game, thinking of it like a gooseball. But it'd come up again, talking to Dinah the other day, during class today, even to some extent talking to Professor Atreides about what he wanted to do, what he hoped to do.
So he was going to have to learn. He might have magic, might be learning how to use it, but the world didn't change by words alone. If anyone had taught him that, it was his mother.
Get angry, Thropp. Get mad. Snap. Lose it. Hit the bag like it's--like it's the Wizard!
But that just produced a glare, a formidable one to be sure, but a glare all the same. Ridiculous, when it was really just a punching bag.
Woman's anger. That's all you've got. Slow, cold, calculating woman's anger. Sarima would laugh at you.
She did laugh at me. Frequently. When she deigned to notice me.
There you go then.
And now he was talking to himself. Brilliant.
[open for later gym use or any throppishness you might require!]