umbradomina (umbradomina) wrote in commandhq, @ 2018-01-01 07:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~nicolette ashford |
[ Umbra ]
Who: Nicky Ashford
When: Monday, January 1st, 2018; 0600
Where: The Gymnasium
Rating/Warnings: Language.
Summary: Nicky didn't sleep well so she's trying to work it out.
The booming bass of music was like a second heartbeat in Nicky's body. It gave her life when other things just couldn't. There were very few personal pleasures to be had while lost in Limbo, but the one that she had always managed to horde for herself was her will to dance. She fit dancing in between training sessions and classes, eating and sleeping. Sometimes she even cut out a bit of sleep just to make sure she had the time to dance. Eventually, she was given the freedom to schedule out her own activities and, well, most of her free time was spent dancing. Her performance on the field had never been hindered by her passion so it seemed the talking heads were fine with her extra curriculars. In fact, her rigorous devotion to music and motion provided her with better cardio and flexibility than any combat training she had received while in the program. She assumed that was really why they let her continue. They looked past the fact that dancing allowed her the tiniest bit of individuality, a no-no among most regimental ideals and rules. You aren't an individual. You are a token in the game, meant to be used and discarded as the game masters deem necessary. Today was no different than any day, minus the fact that the woman had barely slept the night before. Everything was weighing on her and it was almost visible in the way she moved. Anyone who knew how graceful she could be might see that she was off time by half a beat as she spun and swung her arms. The moves were still graceful and any untrained eye would be in awe of her skill, but she was getting frustrated with just how sluggish she felt. Sleep was shit. Breakfast was shit. Now her dancing was shit. She let loose a horribly frustrated growl as she slung her arms downward, shaking her hands as if she were trying to shake water from them. Nicky needed to try to focus and get her body back in time. Concentration was always her weakness. If she could not concentrate, she couldn't perform. She rolled her head around a bit, rocking it back and forth before drawing one of the shadows from across the room and slinging it toward the NEXT button on the iPod hooked into the sound system. It missed and hit PAUSE instead. "Mother fucker," Nicky mumbled as she took long strides toward the iPod and pulled up her playlist. If she was so out of focus that it was effecting her powers, she knew she needed more sleep. She was just unsettled by the lack of communication from her family this Christmas. Their letters had begun to dwindle over the years, but this year there wasn't even a card. She knew she was an adult who didn't need to communicate with her family, but being in Limbo was like being in one of those fancy rich people prisons. Just because you were well taken care of didn't mean it wasn't still a prison. It was still hard on you. The iPod clicked as she fiddled around with it and set a new list to play. She could still feel the beat in her body, but the pace was slower. It would allow her to keep better time. There was no routine in her head, only the idea that she needed to move. Motion was what sustained her. It kept her sane. Without it, she would've spiraled into depression long ago. Instead, it allowed her to work through intense emotions that she would've bottled up and never shared. It kept her from exploding. The woman raised her arms and started moving with the beat. There were pops and locks, spins and kicks. Her motions progressed until she thrust herself forward and preformed what amounted to a handstand, her back arched and legs slug toward her head. She held the pose for a moment before slinging her body around in a bit of a spin and kicking her legs around like a break dancer. She carried enough momentum that she was able to pull herself from the floor with the spin and continue dancing on her feet. It was really a sight to behold, but, had you asked her, she'd call it a mediocre performance. Nicky ended her dance when the song ended, her arms thrown outward and her head thrust back as if welcoming the morning with the widest of open arms. Her breathing was heavy from all the motion, but that familiar feeling of muscle motion helped ease her tension and bring her back to a better state of being. |