|The Immortal Iron Fist (fist_of_iron) wrote in oh_marvelous,|
@ 2014-08-12 13:13:00
|Entry tags:||z: om1: !closed, z: om1: character: colleen wing, z: om1: character: danny rand, z: om1: location: new york|
If I can't show it, if you can't see me
Characters: Danny Colleen
Setting: H4H Office then wherever
Content: Nothing questionable
Summary: Sparring and hanging out
Being alone wasn't unusual for Danny, and didn't really bother him. Usually. Today was different, today he was restless and bored and thinking too much. He tried meditating but everything felt too silent, too still, and he couldn’t seem to get his head clear. After about twenty minutes he gave up and left his new apartment for the H4H headquarters, scaling the walls and roofs of his network of real estate. He figured the fresh air and exercise would get him out whatever this weird funk was. Wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his tee shirt, Danny breezed through the Chinese restaurant with a nod to the dragon lady who owned it and then pounded up the stairs and into an empty office. Where the hell was everybody?
So much for distraction. With an audible sigh (heard by no one), he flung himself into a chair, and spun around in it for awhile until it creaked like it was about to break. He stopped his spinning and powered up a computer to waste some time on the internet, but it wasn't long befor he was fidgety again and on his feet, bouncing from one to the other as he tried to decide what to do next. After some thought he kicked off his shoes and shoved the desks out of the middle of the room to clear a space where he could practice his kung fu. Probably, this would've been better accomplished in his private dojo back in that lonely apartment, but he was here and it was something to do. A hat rack (why did they have a hat rack?) was dragged into the middle of his makeshift desk arena to serve as a wooden foe.
Deep breaths, eyes closed, Danny worked his shoulders to loosen them up and was glad he'd warmed up free running on the way over. He had some purpose now, even if that purpose was just throwing kicks and punches at an inanimate object. It beat watching daytime t.v. Danny opened his eyes, focused on his enemy, and struck. Crescent kick, deceptive shadow cut, pious crane lunge, all just inches from the hat rack, testing the limits of his range and control in moves as familiar to him as breathing. Just his kung fu, not his Iron Fist; the poor hatrack hadn't done anything to deserve that.
The glorious serpent advance, then a roaring wolf scratch, and the vicious hawk technique. The hat rack wasn't as sophisticated as the set ups he had in his dojo, sounds of city outside the warped windows brought him a peace he wouldn't find in the austere tranquility of his high rise home. Anyway, the hat rack was working just fine. Until it snapped with an unintentional hit, unsurprisingly, and Danny stood in the middle of the circle of desks, holding the two halves of what had recently been a perfectly serviceable piece of furniture. Well, he guessed he was paying to replace that.