| It is as ‘dressed down’ as anyone ever sees her. Trackpants and a tanktop is the outfit de jour, her feet bare, her hands covered only in fingerless gloves. Like this, one can see the flawless nature of her skin, but for the small strip of skin under the waist of her tanktop, where hints of a scar twist around her abdoman. It must have been bad, being what she is. Other then that, there is a twisting tattoo around her right bicep, an iron band with some abstract like design.
She had taken the time to reaquaint herself with Sniper, feeding him and declaring him the fierced Snapping Turtle that ever lived, and making sure that he was in good health, before she had donned her workout clothing and come to reaquaint herself with the heavy bag in the workout corner of the main room. The afore mentioned tattoo wavers, shimmers, then slides down her arm until materializing as an ironwood staff in her hand. The staff is taller then she, and hard as, well, the iron for which the wood was named. Carefully cured, lovingly tended, the runes carved along the sides telling a story.
Her story.
A moment more, centering herself, and she goes to work, the staff hitting the heavy bag with practiced, solid thunks and fwaps. Faster, and faster still, the bag swinging with the effort and strength of the Modi. |
