Theea
Yla
The day is sweltering, and by the time Sohalia and I make it to the gym, I’m already sweating. It’s a relief to heading indoors, where everything seems to be kept cool. ”Thanks for doing this,” I say, slanting a smile her way—this will be my first time sparring with anyone in months, and my first time ever training with someone that wasn’t my parents.
The room opens wide before us, all polished wood and stone, lit by high lanterns and the slant of morning sun through tall windows. I pause just inside, blinking at the sight of it.
“Oh—damn,” I breathe, stepping forward slowly.
There are all kinds of strange equipment scattered across the space: thick punching bags swaying slightly from chains overhead, straw-filled dummies with faded paint marks where heads and hearts should be, weights stacked in neat rows, and ropes and beams that crisscross the upper levels like a dare. It smells like effort and clean leather, and the floor gives just enough under my boots to make me wonder what it's made of.
I glance at Sohalia with a grin.
“You didn’t say it would be this cool,” I tease lightly, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I feel like I’m going to trip over something I don’t know how to use—but in a good way.”
I set my mostly empty backpack aside and pull my hair up, fingers quick from practice. “I’ll follow your lead,” I offer with a bright look her way. “Punching bags first?” I bounce once on my toes, just to test the floor. Then I laugh, soft and sheepish. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually used one.”
The room opens wide before us, all polished wood and stone, lit by high lanterns and the slant of morning sun through tall windows. I pause just inside, blinking at the sight of it.
“Oh—damn,” I breathe, stepping forward slowly.
There are all kinds of strange equipment scattered across the space: thick punching bags swaying slightly from chains overhead, straw-filled dummies with faded paint marks where heads and hearts should be, weights stacked in neat rows, and ropes and beams that crisscross the upper levels like a dare. It smells like effort and clean leather, and the floor gives just enough under my boots to make me wonder what it's made of.
I glance at Sohalia with a grin.
“You didn’t say it would be this cool,” I tease lightly, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I feel like I’m going to trip over something I don’t know how to use—but in a good way.”
I set my mostly empty backpack aside and pull my hair up, fingers quick from practice. “I’ll follow your lead,” I offer with a bright look her way. “Punching bags first?” I bounce once on my toes, just to test the floor. Then I laugh, soft and sheepish. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually used one.”
let go of your fears, and jump into the river
as the starlight bleeds out, let it be your new route
as the starlight bleeds out, let it be your new route
