"Angela Roberts" | Ginia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unlucky7) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thenearshore2018-06-26 10:58 am
unlucky7) wrote in thenearshore2018-06-26 10:58 am
[Semi-open] Am I still tough enough?
Who: Ginia and anyone that would have any reason to be around Caster's temple
When: December 10th, flexible dates with wildcard
Where: Caster's Temple
What: Ginia deals with her problems the only way she knows how: drowning herself in training.
Warnings: Suicidal ideation, body horror in relation to the ablution.
A
If you can stand, if you can fight, you can train. A day of sleep, a sling to immobilize her shoulder, it's all Ginia tells herself she needs as she trains in the temple's training room. The rapid thunk of throwing knives embedding into a training dummy or the fainter swish and sharp crack of a wood practice sword fill the space. Ginia might be ambidextrous, but it's also clear her right hand is the weaker hand. What better time to practice and train up when her dominant hand is out of commission?
B
The forest making up the land of Caster's temple are full of large, spiraling trees, glorious and ancient. Their cavernous root structures and massive branches and trunks are perfect for climbing and running around on. Ginia sticks to racing and climbing along the lower levels of the forest, carefully checking and adjusting to her new sense of balance as she springs and runs about. Catch her leaping through the trees or perhaps accidentally dropping down in front of you.
C
Line!
It's been over an hour since Ginia placed a borderline in front of her, remaining stock still as she channels her energy into maintaining a strong barrier. She'll hold the barrier as long as she can, letting the hours running into each other. Hopefully she's not accidentally blocking your path.
Closed to Archer
Pal's wet tongue swipes along Ginia's face as she sits on the forest floor, arm slung around the white hound's back for support. Her face is pale, eyes unfocused, breathing labored. She's drenched through with sweat, barely able to keep herself upright but too stubborn to pass out. Her borderline snapped seconds, minutes ago, several hours after she began her training.
Not long enough. Ginia tries to rise to her feet as Pal wiggles into her lap, the weighty dog squishing her back down. There's barking nearby, Regal's rich, low bar. She looks over, the small motion feeling laborious, and sighs as the white guard dog runs over, Archer close behind.
"I'm fine," she signs, but really, she barely believes the statement herself.
D - Wildcard!
Have an idea? Hit me up over PM or at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
cordially! Willing to work with flexible dates.
When: December 10th, flexible dates with wildcard
Where: Caster's Temple
What: Ginia deals with her problems the only way she knows how: drowning herself in training.
Warnings: Suicidal ideation, body horror in relation to the ablution.
A
If you can stand, if you can fight, you can train. A day of sleep, a sling to immobilize her shoulder, it's all Ginia tells herself she needs as she trains in the temple's training room. The rapid thunk of throwing knives embedding into a training dummy or the fainter swish and sharp crack of a wood practice sword fill the space. Ginia might be ambidextrous, but it's also clear her right hand is the weaker hand. What better time to practice and train up when her dominant hand is out of commission?
B
The forest making up the land of Caster's temple are full of large, spiraling trees, glorious and ancient. Their cavernous root structures and massive branches and trunks are perfect for climbing and running around on. Ginia sticks to racing and climbing along the lower levels of the forest, carefully checking and adjusting to her new sense of balance as she springs and runs about. Catch her leaping through the trees or perhaps accidentally dropping down in front of you.
C
Line!
It's been over an hour since Ginia placed a borderline in front of her, remaining stock still as she channels her energy into maintaining a strong barrier. She'll hold the barrier as long as she can, letting the hours running into each other. Hopefully she's not accidentally blocking your path.
Closed to Archer
Pal's wet tongue swipes along Ginia's face as she sits on the forest floor, arm slung around the white hound's back for support. Her face is pale, eyes unfocused, breathing labored. She's drenched through with sweat, barely able to keep herself upright but too stubborn to pass out. Her borderline snapped seconds, minutes ago, several hours after she began her training.
Not long enough. Ginia tries to rise to her feet as Pal wiggles into her lap, the weighty dog squishing her back down. There's barking nearby, Regal's rich, low bar. She looks over, the small motion feeling laborious, and sighs as the white guard dog runs over, Archer close behind.
"I'm fine," she signs, but really, she barely believes the statement herself.
D - Wildcard!
Have an idea? Hit me up over PM or at