Post by Morrigan on Mar 15, 2023 11:09:23 GMT -5
How radically things would change if one took their eyes off of them. A year ago in this very place, a grand structure floated off the mainland. It had beckoned the strong to compete with promises of glory, experience, or just a bit of fun for the easily persuaded. Nowadays one could scarcely imagine its former magnificence. Most of it was submerged deep into the biting cold waters, and all that could be seen on the surface was a fractured field of debris, perpetually lashed at by the waves.
Atop one such fragment bobbing in the sea, a rounded top of a former tower with a spire jutting toward the sky, stood an Earthling with white hair whipping in the wind. Morrigan remembered Battle Island in its heyday. She could remember the few times she'd been in attendance, spectating from the stands when she was young and right in the thick of the battle more recently. Competition didn't usually cause her nerves, but it had been such a spectacle then. Upon reflection she might've even been a little embarrassed by her past self.
The nostalgia was undeniable, but it was not what brought the martial artist here today. The chaotic sprawl of uneven wreckage looked like a unique challenge. Being that flying was never her style, improving upon her nimbleness was a must. Content with the course she'd plotted mentally, Morrigan began shrugging off the outer layers of her gi and tucked them against the base of the spire at her side. The cold winds stung immediately against previously covered skin, providing good incentive for her to get into gear.
Morrigan took a deep breath as she lowered into a crouch, and but a moment later sprung off of her platform. She touched down only momentarily on her first target before leaping to the next and the one after it. The rule she'd set for herself was to not dwell on any one landing for more than a second. A simple way to ensure it took some effort to carry out the exercise. Bounding from a shattered staircase, she was mindful of her next checkpoint: a sheet of ice, probably having drifted in from further north. It would be a terribly novice mistake to slip, and a novice Morrigan was not. She planted herself firmly upon the ice, and... it broke. A small blessing, maybe, that the undignified yelp she let out was cut off by the splashing of water.
Thrashing about for a few seconds, eventually Morrigan found her bearings and vaulted up onto a nearby ledge, looking a bit too much like a wet cat. Spitting out and shaking off her sudden abundance of seawater, she heaved a sigh and began to more cautiously return to her starting point.
Atop one such fragment bobbing in the sea, a rounded top of a former tower with a spire jutting toward the sky, stood an Earthling with white hair whipping in the wind. Morrigan remembered Battle Island in its heyday. She could remember the few times she'd been in attendance, spectating from the stands when she was young and right in the thick of the battle more recently. Competition didn't usually cause her nerves, but it had been such a spectacle then. Upon reflection she might've even been a little embarrassed by her past self.
The nostalgia was undeniable, but it was not what brought the martial artist here today. The chaotic sprawl of uneven wreckage looked like a unique challenge. Being that flying was never her style, improving upon her nimbleness was a must. Content with the course she'd plotted mentally, Morrigan began shrugging off the outer layers of her gi and tucked them against the base of the spire at her side. The cold winds stung immediately against previously covered skin, providing good incentive for her to get into gear.
Morrigan took a deep breath as she lowered into a crouch, and but a moment later sprung off of her platform. She touched down only momentarily on her first target before leaping to the next and the one after it. The rule she'd set for herself was to not dwell on any one landing for more than a second. A simple way to ensure it took some effort to carry out the exercise. Bounding from a shattered staircase, she was mindful of her next checkpoint: a sheet of ice, probably having drifted in from further north. It would be a terribly novice mistake to slip, and a novice Morrigan was not. She planted herself firmly upon the ice, and... it broke. A small blessing, maybe, that the undignified yelp she let out was cut off by the splashing of water.
Thrashing about for a few seconds, eventually Morrigan found her bearings and vaulted up onto a nearby ledge, looking a bit too much like a wet cat. Spitting out and shaking off her sudden abundance of seawater, she heaved a sigh and began to more cautiously return to her starting point.
Thread PL: 17,000 (Suppressed to 1,700)
WC: 461
WC: 461