Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jun 9, 2013 21:29:49 GMT -8
'One cannot have the power of a god without one possessing all that makes a god a god- for one will only crush under the weight of it'. Giggles sure had a cryptic way of speaking- and during the many times he'd teased and patronized her among all the other abuses one could inflict on another...it was one thing he'd passed onto her.
Bastille flexed her fingers, letting the weight of the hilt roll down the sweaty palm of her hand. Blood ran down her shoulder and her hand- various bruises and cuts all angry and red, littered her body. The scrap of bandages she wore around her chest, and the small shorts too, did nothing to protect her skin against the obvious strain of her training. Her hair was even stained a light brownish red noting she'd managed to split her head open in the process.
Purging, she called it. In her mind at the very least she would call it that. She did this every day until noon and then the girls would wake up from their nap and Bastille would be home to take care of them. A different kind of purging. This was purging of her body, that was the purging of her mind.
Training on the barren 'used-to-be' freeway, she over looked the city around her and sighed. She used Dragon territory because unlike God territory, it reminded her more of her ultimate goal. She coughed a bit, finding her breathe again.
She stepped back onto a piece of glass and grumbled as it sliced her foot open. That was going to hurt....not that it already didn't but adrenaline was a wondrous pain killer. Bastille kicked up blade, squeezing it tight in her hand as she moved it up to help her other hand tie a blindfold around her eyes.
She stood and began again....no rest for the weary. She still sucked at being blind, and her movements were fumbly at best. It was easy to sneak up on her like this....that was what she was training to avoid.
Bastille flexed her fingers, letting the weight of the hilt roll down the sweaty palm of her hand. Blood ran down her shoulder and her hand- various bruises and cuts all angry and red, littered her body. The scrap of bandages she wore around her chest, and the small shorts too, did nothing to protect her skin against the obvious strain of her training. Her hair was even stained a light brownish red noting she'd managed to split her head open in the process.
Purging, she called it. In her mind at the very least she would call it that. She did this every day until noon and then the girls would wake up from their nap and Bastille would be home to take care of them. A different kind of purging. This was purging of her body, that was the purging of her mind.
Training on the barren 'used-to-be' freeway, she over looked the city around her and sighed. She used Dragon territory because unlike God territory, it reminded her more of her ultimate goal. She coughed a bit, finding her breathe again.
She stepped back onto a piece of glass and grumbled as it sliced her foot open. That was going to hurt....not that it already didn't but adrenaline was a wondrous pain killer. Bastille kicked up blade, squeezing it tight in her hand as she moved it up to help her other hand tie a blindfold around her eyes.
She stood and began again....no rest for the weary. She still sucked at being blind, and her movements were fumbly at best. It was easy to sneak up on her like this....that was what she was training to avoid.
