Vi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
giveittoyoursister) wrote2022-01-07 01:45 am
giveittoyoursister) wrote2022-01-07 01:45 am
The Unexplored Woods, Early Thursday Morning
This morning Vi had finally reached the point where four walls had gotten too stifling when there wasn't even a locked door keeping her in and gone out the window and down the side of the building. After dashing across the far too exposed grounds, she'd made her way up to the relative security of the town's rooftops and started running.
Sure, the ice and snow made for a new and exciting challenge, especially on unfamiliar roofs, but it was easy to fall back into the rhythm, the habit of looking for signs of the best path, keeping an eye out for guttering and pipes that looked like they would (or wouldn't) hold her weight.
At least until for the second time this week she ran out of roof. Though this time, instead of an ocean, she was looking out at a forest. Okay, maybe not a forest, but it was still more real trees than she'd ever been this close to in her life. She dropped down and wandered closer, reaching out a hand to trail her fingers across the bark.
As she wandered further into the trees, her trailing fingers turned into dragging, then tapping knuckles, until she found herself in front of a wide trunk, a fist pressed against pale, smooth bark.
Since things were already awkward enough without the risk of Libby taking punching a wall the wrong way, she hadn't done more than shadow-boxing the last few days, she was past due for some proper exercises. Hanging her jacket on a handy branch, she took up a stance in front of the tree, rolling her shoulders, loosening tight muscles.
She started with light, controlled blows, her knuckles barely grazing the wood, gradually hitting with more and more power, until her fists were landing with a meaty thud. She needed this, needed the burn and stretch as she moved, needed control of one single thing in her life.
She swung and something went crack. She pulled back, but her fingers only smarted, and she could see the thin line running up the trunk. She'd broken wood, not bone. She stared at the mark for one long moment, then swung at the exact same spot, only harder. And again. Then again. Until the hairline crack was a great jagged scar marring the tree and Vi staggered back, a hoarse animal cry tearing from her throat.
[Can be open, I guess]
Sure, the ice and snow made for a new and exciting challenge, especially on unfamiliar roofs, but it was easy to fall back into the rhythm, the habit of looking for signs of the best path, keeping an eye out for guttering and pipes that looked like they would (or wouldn't) hold her weight.
At least until for the second time this week she ran out of roof. Though this time, instead of an ocean, she was looking out at a forest. Okay, maybe not a forest, but it was still more real trees than she'd ever been this close to in her life. She dropped down and wandered closer, reaching out a hand to trail her fingers across the bark.
As she wandered further into the trees, her trailing fingers turned into dragging, then tapping knuckles, until she found herself in front of a wide trunk, a fist pressed against pale, smooth bark.
Since things were already awkward enough without the risk of Libby taking punching a wall the wrong way, she hadn't done more than shadow-boxing the last few days, she was past due for some proper exercises. Hanging her jacket on a handy branch, she took up a stance in front of the tree, rolling her shoulders, loosening tight muscles.
She started with light, controlled blows, her knuckles barely grazing the wood, gradually hitting with more and more power, until her fists were landing with a meaty thud. She needed this, needed the burn and stretch as she moved, needed control of one single thing in her life.
She swung and something went crack. She pulled back, but her fingers only smarted, and she could see the thin line running up the trunk. She'd broken wood, not bone. She stared at the mark for one long moment, then swung at the exact same spot, only harder. And again. Then again. Until the hairline crack was a great jagged scar marring the tree and Vi staggered back, a hoarse animal cry tearing from her throat.
[Can be open, I guess]