11-23-2018, 03:20 AM
Ivan listened. This time really listened, filing it all away. He remember his first fight in the tunnels. His default had been fire and rock. Most instinctual.
When he'd been at Yun's place it was fire that he was going to use to destroy the place.
Yun. The faces of Zara and Danya, of his family came to mind. Back on his final project, he'd scoured the internet, even learned about pressure calculations and Boyle's laws, puzzling out engineering diagrams and strange terminologirs. His teammates twitted him about that, but he was serious about it.
As he was now. He knew the chess piece would come eventually. Fine motor control wasn't learned in an afternoon.
You learned the exercises and their proper form and purpose and then did them regularly. So this time he followed Nox's lead, trying to copy the complex thread he weaved. No way was he gonna split it off. It took all he had to hold the pieces together. Like carrying a 100 differetly shaped boxes and trying to keep them all from slipping out and falling to the ground.
Sweat beaded his forehead, as if he were doing preacher curls, biceps screaming in that exquisite agony that came at the peak of the move.
Something slipped.
Next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his ears ringing, a tunnel of sound going in and out of clarity, vision just now coming into focus.
Despite himself, he laughed, mostly feeling the vibration.
When he'd been at Yun's place it was fire that he was going to use to destroy the place.
Yun. The faces of Zara and Danya, of his family came to mind. Back on his final project, he'd scoured the internet, even learned about pressure calculations and Boyle's laws, puzzling out engineering diagrams and strange terminologirs. His teammates twitted him about that, but he was serious about it.
As he was now. He knew the chess piece would come eventually. Fine motor control wasn't learned in an afternoon.
You learned the exercises and their proper form and purpose and then did them regularly. So this time he followed Nox's lead, trying to copy the complex thread he weaved. No way was he gonna split it off. It took all he had to hold the pieces together. Like carrying a 100 differetly shaped boxes and trying to keep them all from slipping out and falling to the ground.
Sweat beaded his forehead, as if he were doing preacher curls, biceps screaming in that exquisite agony that came at the peak of the move.
Something slipped.
Next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his ears ringing, a tunnel of sound going in and out of clarity, vision just now coming into focus.
Despite himself, he laughed, mostly feeling the vibration.