[Training] I'll never not

Liam

I just want one more chance

A familiar, staccato rhythm echoed across the sand as Liam walked along the shore, and he might have been tempted to leave it alone had it not been for the slender blonde figure that appeared in his vision.

The soldier didn't know Flora well, but she didn't seem like her usual self. She was damp with sweat, errant curls from her messy braid clinging to her skin, as she punched a bag as though it had personally wronged her. He'd seen her be playful, and he'd seen her be serious - he'd never seen her angry, and his brow creased with concern as he neared, watching her strike at the bag with a certain wildness in her eyes, listening to the half-laughter, half-sobs that punctuated her sharp jabs.

Liam was dressed for the beach in swim trunks and an unbuttoned shirt that bared his chest to the sun; he padded barefoot until he was near enough to grasp the punching bag, holding it in place as Flora flung herself at it. "If you're trying to hurt the punching bag, you'll need to adjust your stance," he instructed quietly. "Feet shoulder-width apart. Hands up to protect your face."

To put my arms in fragile hands

Table inspired by the lovely Skylark <3