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legionworld2016-04-03 07:57 pm
notwithoutafight) wrote in legionworld2016-04-03 07:57 pm
only a week and she's already been here too long
Who| Videl & Open
What| Being new and finally free from the med bay
Where| Training Gym OR Mess Hall
When| Daytime
Warnings/Notes| Varying levels of hostility from Videl
A. Training Gym
Videl had been laying into a punching bag in the training gym for the better part of an hour, working through the mess of problems that had been cluttering up her mind over the past week since her arrival. A week interned in the Med Bay was enough to test anyone’s patience, but Videl reached her limits in only a matter of days. It was Officer Erin who, noticing how tense Videl seemed during her swearing-in, had suggested the girl find an outlet for her feelings. Vocalizing those feelings in a message recorded for the future hadn’t brought Videl the kind of closure intended, so a different approach was clearly needed. For Videl, that meant training.
Training had been Videl’s go-to method for working through her emotions ever since she was four years old, when her mother died. Back then, people were constantly crowding her, peppering her with questions about how she felt and ‘if you ever need to talk, I’m here’ -assurances. But Videl didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to be coddled. She didn’t want platitudes. She wanted her mom, and if she couldn’t have her mom, she wanted to fight the person who took her mom away.
That was what prompted Mr. Satan to teach his daughter how to use a punching bag. ‘When using words doesn’t help you get all the hurt out,’ he explained, ‘you can use your fists, like this.’ The older Videl got, the harder it became to expel negative feelings with words, and the punching bag in the family gym became the recipient of a great many upsets.
A punching bag in the Legion World training gym had been “listening” to Videl’s problems for about an hour now. Sweaty and winded, Videl steadied the swinging bag, then plopped down on a bench to catch her breath.
B. Mess Hall
Videl sat at a table by herself, working her way through her second large plate of okonomiyaki, frowning at her Legion ring and where it lay on the table beside her drink. In spite of how things appeared, it wasn’t the right that was bothering Videl; it was its power to bestow flight.
Or, more specifically, how it allowed her to fly.
Flight itself was not special to Videl; not anymore. It hadn’t been for the past few months, since Gohan had taught her how to do it. Videl had practiced every day since then, every moment she had spare time. She flew everywhere she needed to go, even long distances when she should have taken her helicopter. She practiced hovering at different heights while she did her homework. She even tried to incorporate it into her training, to mixed results. But ever since she got to the Legion world, she couldn’t lift so much as an inch off the ground, even with all of her concentration. Unless she used the ring.
Videl put her chopsticks down and pushed her plate out of the way, making room for her to put both hands on the table. What was it Gohan said when he first taught her about ki? Something about drawing it out of yourself? She turned her palms toward each other, about twelve inches apart, as Gohan had showed her. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the noise and bustle around her and just focus on her own breathing.
What| Being new and finally free from the med bay
Where| Training Gym OR Mess Hall
When| Daytime
Warnings/Notes| Varying levels of hostility from Videl
A. Training Gym
Videl had been laying into a punching bag in the training gym for the better part of an hour, working through the mess of problems that had been cluttering up her mind over the past week since her arrival. A week interned in the Med Bay was enough to test anyone’s patience, but Videl reached her limits in only a matter of days. It was Officer Erin who, noticing how tense Videl seemed during her swearing-in, had suggested the girl find an outlet for her feelings. Vocalizing those feelings in a message recorded for the future hadn’t brought Videl the kind of closure intended, so a different approach was clearly needed. For Videl, that meant training.
Training had been Videl’s go-to method for working through her emotions ever since she was four years old, when her mother died. Back then, people were constantly crowding her, peppering her with questions about how she felt and ‘if you ever need to talk, I’m here’ -assurances. But Videl didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to be coddled. She didn’t want platitudes. She wanted her mom, and if she couldn’t have her mom, she wanted to fight the person who took her mom away.
That was what prompted Mr. Satan to teach his daughter how to use a punching bag. ‘When using words doesn’t help you get all the hurt out,’ he explained, ‘you can use your fists, like this.’ The older Videl got, the harder it became to expel negative feelings with words, and the punching bag in the family gym became the recipient of a great many upsets.
A punching bag in the Legion World training gym had been “listening” to Videl’s problems for about an hour now. Sweaty and winded, Videl steadied the swinging bag, then plopped down on a bench to catch her breath.
B. Mess Hall
Videl sat at a table by herself, working her way through her second large plate of okonomiyaki, frowning at her Legion ring and where it lay on the table beside her drink. In spite of how things appeared, it wasn’t the right that was bothering Videl; it was its power to bestow flight.
Or, more specifically, how it allowed her to fly.
Flight itself was not special to Videl; not anymore. It hadn’t been for the past few months, since Gohan had taught her how to do it. Videl had practiced every day since then, every moment she had spare time. She flew everywhere she needed to go, even long distances when she should have taken her helicopter. She practiced hovering at different heights while she did her homework. She even tried to incorporate it into her training, to mixed results. But ever since she got to the Legion world, she couldn’t lift so much as an inch off the ground, even with all of her concentration. Unless she used the ring.
Videl put her chopsticks down and pushed her plate out of the way, making room for her to put both hands on the table. What was it Gohan said when he first taught her about ki? Something about drawing it out of yourself? She turned her palms toward each other, about twelve inches apart, as Gohan had showed her. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the noise and bustle around her and just focus on her own breathing.
no subject
"Somebody's feeling a little cranky about being stuck here," Rich said teasingly. "Don't worry, though, you're not alone. A lot of us are pretty frustrated by it."
Just like Rich was pretty damn frustrated with his lack of coordination. That was what he was working on right now. Plyometric drills. Calisthenics to work on his coordination and reflexes. He was clearly having trouble with them, in a way that didn't really suggest he was just incompetent. He looked more like someone coping with a new disability, fighting against numbness vor paralysis in his limbs.
"Aside from grabbing us from where we're supposed to be, this place has a nasty way of laying extra limitations on a lot of us."
A
Her temper diffused as she picked up a towel from a nearby bench and rubbed it over the back of her neck. Rich’s words and tone of voice suggested that the situation they (and apparently others) found themselves in now wasn’t a first for him --or even a second or third, Videl suspected.
“What kind of limitations?” she asked with evident wariness. This situation sucked enough; did it really need to be worse?
no subject
He was reluctant to describe it the way it really was, but if he was honest with himself...
"-- well. Disabled, I guess. My powers back home are caused by me carrying around this energy source called the Nova Force. Somehow, in coming here, a huge portion of my powers got blocked off. Normally, with the full Nova Force, I can do hairpin turns at near lightspeed -- I've got that much control over my body. Perfect coordination. Conscious control over even the tiniest movements. Having so much of it blocked off, it's like having nerve damage."
He stopped trying to do his drills because he honestly couldn't talk to her and do them at the same time, not without tripping over his own feet.
"My limbs are numb and my coordination is completely shot. I used to take on intergalactic dictators and now I can't even walk in a straight line without tripping over my own feet."