Post by laika demaux on Mar 24, 2013 19:30:59 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,3,true][atrb=style, width:390; ,bTable][atrb=Valign, bottom] | [atrb=Valign, bottom] | [atrb=Valign, bottom] | [atrb=Valign, bottom] | [atrb=Valign, bottom] | [atrb=Valign, bottom] "i'm breaking in, i'm shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus. this is it, the apocalypse." |
Running. Agility. Pure movement and nothing else - no ties, no burden, just the motion of placing one foot before the other at speed. Obstacles in the way only made it more challenging; a predator in chase only heightened the thrill. So many used the ability as a chance to escape from something - but not her.
The desolation of Staten Island had served its purpose of a personal playground since her discovery of the place, probably at the disdain of its remaining residents. However, she had no time for their complaints. The few criticisms that were voiced in her direction became lost to the howling wind in her ears, to the steady, rhythmic pulse of blood rushing through her body. Headphones on, another beat to time her pacing to. Nothing could beat the feeling of a little adrenaline in the morning.
"Ta!" accompanied her grin, snatched bottle of victory sloshing in panic to her rhythm. Drops of sweetened cider escaped the glass, dripping onto the hand clasping at the bottleneck as the chorus of angered cries were whisked away on the breeze. It wasn't summer yet - no, it was barely spring, if you could even call it that - but with chilled booze in hand, sweat rolling down the back of her neck and her heart racing, who would have thought otherwise?
The woman, barely the stature of a teen though twice as reckless, tore through the totalled housing district only to skid to a halt at... a blockade?
Inspection of the hazard signs told more of the story - reconstruction efforts. Not that they'd do much - they would probably get wiped out by the next tornado anyway - but for now, it seemed the black and yellow striping would be standing directly in her path. That and the girders. Ugh. Seeing as her relaxation ritual had been cut short, the blonde backtracked her steps, announcing as loud and crude a curse at the construction crew as she could muster. So what if people needed housing? She needed somewhere to let off her steam! Was everyone blind to all this pent up energy she had to expell?!
Marching her way along the dusty little road of crushed lives, the joltik morph stretched her arms, knuckles cracking sharply against the dimming ruckus behind her. Now what the hell was she supposed to do with her day?
The desolation of Staten Island had served its purpose of a personal playground since her discovery of the place, probably at the disdain of its remaining residents. However, she had no time for their complaints. The few criticisms that were voiced in her direction became lost to the howling wind in her ears, to the steady, rhythmic pulse of blood rushing through her body. Headphones on, another beat to time her pacing to. Nothing could beat the feeling of a little adrenaline in the morning.
"Ta!" accompanied her grin, snatched bottle of victory sloshing in panic to her rhythm. Drops of sweetened cider escaped the glass, dripping onto the hand clasping at the bottleneck as the chorus of angered cries were whisked away on the breeze. It wasn't summer yet - no, it was barely spring, if you could even call it that - but with chilled booze in hand, sweat rolling down the back of her neck and her heart racing, who would have thought otherwise?
The woman, barely the stature of a teen though twice as reckless, tore through the totalled housing district only to skid to a halt at... a blockade?
Inspection of the hazard signs told more of the story - reconstruction efforts. Not that they'd do much - they would probably get wiped out by the next tornado anyway - but for now, it seemed the black and yellow striping would be standing directly in her path. That and the girders. Ugh. Seeing as her relaxation ritual had been cut short, the blonde backtracked her steps, announcing as loud and crude a curse at the construction crew as she could muster. So what if people needed housing? She needed somewhere to let off her steam! Was everyone blind to all this pent up energy she had to expell?!
Marching her way along the dusty little road of crushed lives, the joltik morph stretched her arms, knuckles cracking sharply against the dimming ruckus behind her. Now what the hell was she supposed to do with her day?
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