BE A ♍AN (o)

❝You're unsuited for
the rage of war So pack up, go home you're through. How could I make a man out of you? We must be swift as A coursing river, With all the force of a great typhoon, With all the strength of a raging fire, Mysterious as the dark side of the moon❞

Sweat beaded down her cheeks, and she only took a moment to wipe her forehead with the backside of her hand before racing towards the attack dummy once again. It was difficult to practice hitting pressure points on a stuffed practice doll, but she made the best out of it. Red tape she marked on the figure were opimal areas to strike, they induced the most damage per hit. Yellow tape and blue tape were lesser areas of weakness, but opportunities to consider none the less. The training grounds were surprisingly unpopulated, considering the tournament was coming up soon. The light breeze blew by, shuffling the grass underneath her feet. Scattered around her was her backpack, her spellbook, her heels, and her clothes that she had stripped herself of as the hours went by.

Usually Edie was seen perfectly constructed; not a hair out of place. Perfectly pristine in heels, makeup, skirts, and dresses, all bought from the most famous brands. But then again, she was mostly a bookworm, in the library studying, people weren't used to seeing her in battle. She left herself in shorts with a small undershirt she wore to keep her blouse from seeming opaque, and she had abandoned her shoes long ago so her bare feet kicked up dirt when she struck the dummy with the side of her leg. Cascading pink curls tied up in a pony tail, it was almost primal of her to become raw like this. To abandon all cares as to how people see her, to sweat, to get dirty, to attack something that couldn't fight back for hours on her free weekend. She wasn't strong enough. The tournament was coming up and she needed to be stronger.

She knew she relied on her spells, but she also knew there would be timed where someone would come close to hit her and she'd need to hit back. Sure, she was very experienced at avoiding hand-to-hand combat, but she needed to prepare herself. Darting around the figure, circling like a predator, she struck with her palm. Two hits. Five hits. Eight hits. Stop. Edie turned and in a split second racing pain sparked up her leg like lightning and she collapsed.

Hitting the ground with a thud, Edie let out a "Oof!" on impact. She knew she meant to spin one way and her legs didn't agree, a twisted ankle. Great. She didn't worry, no, a simple healing spell would do the trick, but what if this happened in the tournament? A simple twisted ankle would be her downfall? She needed to train more, schedule in more sessions for herself. Hm, when was she free? Wednesday afternoon, maybe? No, how about Tuesday? As the pinkette went over her mental calendar, she stayed on the ground, spacing out in thought while staring at the grass tussle in the wind.