Natural sort of grace
Kate should have figured that after the clothes box's overwhelming generosity for her wedding, it would put her through a dry patch. Not that clothes is even what she's needing. Trainers. Just one pair of proper running trainers would be great. The sole of her left shoe is flapping somewhat ominously as she reaches the end of her run and moves into the hard packed sand near the water's edge but she keeps moving. Her breath is coming now in harsh pants as her legs strain to go just a little farther.
She goes just a little farther than intended when her shoe catches on a lump of sand and she goes sprawling, sand scraping up one side.
"Crap," she mutters.
[ooc: Open to all! I know I know but I seem unable to go more than a few months without having her do something klutsy and painful. She's fine, mostly.]
She goes just a little farther than intended when her shoe catches on a lump of sand and she goes sprawling, sand scraping up one side.
"Crap," she mutters.
[ooc: Open to all! I know I know but I seem unable to go more than a few months without having her do something klutsy and painful. She's fine, mostly.]