Trunks Briefs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fighting4afuture) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2016-06-03 09:08 pm
fighting4afuture) wrote in legionworld2016-06-03 09:08 pm
Entry tags:
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Who| Trunks and open to anyone
What| Getting used to new surroundings! And other things.
Where| Observation deck, gym
When| N/A
Warnings/Notes| N/A? Maybe some musing about his bad end future.
Waking up feeling like death wasn't exactly new territory. He'd actually died once, not all that long ago, so Trunks had to guess it was almost all uphill from there. But feeling so incredibly weak wasn't normal at all, even on the rare occasions he was sick, or when he'd gotten kicked through a few buildings and was recovering from the broken bones and near-death experience.
It wasn't that he did feel ill, no. He just didn't feel right. He was, of course, in tune with his own body--he sort of had to be--but when he'd picked up the cup of water he'd been left with the usual light grip he'd need to use so he didn't crush it, the cup fell right out of his hand. The medics had insisted on doing tests, of course, but they hadn't found anything that they considered wrong, so when Trunks had asked--politely, of course--to leave, they hadn't had any reason to keep him. Especially when he'd promised he'd come back if he felt sick.
He'd gone to the observation deck, first--staring out into space, then down at the Earth. He took stock of how exactly he felt, mulling over in his head what he'd been told about the Legion and the recent battle and where he was. When he was. He'd say he'd overshot his future, but he knew that wasn't true. He remembered killing Cell, he'd been flying back to West City, relieved it was all over, then...nothing really, before he'd been picked up by the extraction team.
Then, after deciding he wasn't going to feel better until he knew what exactly he was capable of, he asked for directions to the gym.
Trying to lift heavy objects immediately after his release from the medical bay probably wasn't what the doctors had in mind, but Trunks had never considered five hundred pounds to be exceedingly heavy. He'd been able to lift that and more since he was a kid--so he'd loaded up a barbell with that weight, the individual discs not seeming too much. Altogether, though, it was more than he could even pull off the floor.
That didn't exactly make him feel good. In fact, it made him feel uneasy--almost anxious. Anyone walking in on him would find him breaking down everything and putting it away, afraid to even see what he could do now.
What| Getting used to new surroundings! And other things.
Where| Observation deck, gym
When| N/A
Warnings/Notes| N/A? Maybe some musing about his bad end future.
Waking up feeling like death wasn't exactly new territory. He'd actually died once, not all that long ago, so Trunks had to guess it was almost all uphill from there. But feeling so incredibly weak wasn't normal at all, even on the rare occasions he was sick, or when he'd gotten kicked through a few buildings and was recovering from the broken bones and near-death experience.
It wasn't that he did feel ill, no. He just didn't feel right. He was, of course, in tune with his own body--he sort of had to be--but when he'd picked up the cup of water he'd been left with the usual light grip he'd need to use so he didn't crush it, the cup fell right out of his hand. The medics had insisted on doing tests, of course, but they hadn't found anything that they considered wrong, so when Trunks had asked--politely, of course--to leave, they hadn't had any reason to keep him. Especially when he'd promised he'd come back if he felt sick.
He'd gone to the observation deck, first--staring out into space, then down at the Earth. He took stock of how exactly he felt, mulling over in his head what he'd been told about the Legion and the recent battle and where he was. When he was. He'd say he'd overshot his future, but he knew that wasn't true. He remembered killing Cell, he'd been flying back to West City, relieved it was all over, then...nothing really, before he'd been picked up by the extraction team.
Then, after deciding he wasn't going to feel better until he knew what exactly he was capable of, he asked for directions to the gym.
Trying to lift heavy objects immediately after his release from the medical bay probably wasn't what the doctors had in mind, but Trunks had never considered five hundred pounds to be exceedingly heavy. He'd been able to lift that and more since he was a kid--so he'd loaded up a barbell with that weight, the individual discs not seeming too much. Altogether, though, it was more than he could even pull off the floor.
That didn't exactly make him feel good. In fact, it made him feel uneasy--almost anxious. Anyone walking in on him would find him breaking down everything and putting it away, afraid to even see what he could do now.
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As she approached, Videl noticed the pounds printed on the face of one of the weights. Between this weight, the others around, and adjusting for however many he had already put away, Videl counted at least 300lbs.
She gave a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Did you really just deadlift three hundred pounds?"
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At least, until he saw a familiar head of lavender hair. And looked down to see an equally familiar denim jacket.
"T-Trunks...?" Gohan reached up to rub his eyes, making sure he wasn't seeing things. But nope, that sure was the Trunks from the future, looking almost exactly like he remembered him from seven years ago. It would've surprised him more, if he wasn't already aware of the dubious nature of time and space when it came to the rift.
But it was still uncanny, seeing someone he'd last seen seven years ago, who still looked exactly the same. Definitely... surreal.
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