Post by Deleted on Aug 22, 2012 22:05:33 GMT -5
“I can do this, I can do this, I can f***ing do this!” Astrid spat to herself. It was the usual psych-up routine, as one would expect. It accompanied the stretching that she was currently doing. Actually, if Astrid could see herself, she'd see someone who looked very much like a leggy blonde track star, and very much unlike a Viking warrioress. There wasn't even a weapon on her. True, her axe lay in the bleachers a short dash away, but it wasn't on Astrid.
The this in question happened to be a run. Astrid was already moving, practically dashing, down the track. She actually moved quickly, a testament to her skills and lengthy legs. She'd lapped the track in a time that would impress most people, and was even grinning, confident that she was, in fact, going to f***ing do this.
Then she tripped.
Not a normal trip, a slight misstep that resulted in a hop, or even a trip that ended in a simple fall. This was a fall flat on your face, skid across the faux dirt track several feet, nearly eating gravel trip. Astrid had to spit out dirt as she finished, and she hopped to her feet almost immediately after. Which didn't quite work in her favor, as she'd apparently scraped up one leg nearly to the point of bleeding.
Not that Astrid cared. She was too busy figuring out what tripped her. "Who owns that?" she demanded, pointing. She looked to the bleachers, seeking out someone to accuse. "Who the hell left something in a track? I'm gonna--"
Who was that? That couldn't be... he looked... well, he looked kind of like...
But that just didn't make any sense.
"Is that yours?" she demanded, looking straight the person while simultaneously pointing toward the offensive object in question.
The this in question happened to be a run. Astrid was already moving, practically dashing, down the track. She actually moved quickly, a testament to her skills and lengthy legs. She'd lapped the track in a time that would impress most people, and was even grinning, confident that she was, in fact, going to f***ing do this.
Then she tripped.
Not a normal trip, a slight misstep that resulted in a hop, or even a trip that ended in a simple fall. This was a fall flat on your face, skid across the faux dirt track several feet, nearly eating gravel trip. Astrid had to spit out dirt as she finished, and she hopped to her feet almost immediately after. Which didn't quite work in her favor, as she'd apparently scraped up one leg nearly to the point of bleeding.
Not that Astrid cared. She was too busy figuring out what tripped her. "Who owns that?" she demanded, pointing. She looked to the bleachers, seeking out someone to accuse. "Who the hell left something in a track? I'm gonna--"
Who was that? That couldn't be... he looked... well, he looked kind of like...
But that just didn't make any sense.
"Is that yours?" she demanded, looking straight the person while simultaneously pointing toward the offensive object in question.