Post by Pyro Blackfire S5 on Feb 20, 2008 4:31:23 GMT
Pyro had no idea who the genius that mapped out the progression of depression was, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was the tree in front of him. It had been about a week since he talked with Kennedy, and Pyro was done moping. Pyro’s fist came flying in again, connecting squarely with the tree, sending chips of bark flying. So what if Alex had left him, good riddance to her. Pyro would be just fine without her.
He threw two more punching combos at the tree, than stepped back and spun around, connecting with a roundhouse kick. This had been his first time out training in a long time, his body wasn’t used to the exercise anymore and he was covered in sweat and breathing hard. A week ago Pyro had seemed a shell of his former self. His body drooped with weary. He hadn’t shaven or kept up his appearance at all. All that had changed when he found this new anger inside.
His face was cleanly shaven again. His hair was once again braided back into its regular tight ponytail, although a few hairs had escaped the tight hold. With this new found energy his body had quickly tightened back, even his eyes seemed to sparkle with that same old inner finer that he used to posses. He was far from being back to normal, he knew that. Also he had a lot of things to make up for, like getting his position back as a starting Chaser on the Quidditch team.
All would come in due time, right now, all that bothered Pyro was the tree. It wasn’t full grown, in fact it was still pretty young, and only two feet in diameter. Pyro’s hits were perfect and on the mark each time and his attacks had slowly begun to wear a rut into the tough bark. Pyro had studied this kind of extreme training, it was mostly used to get your hands tougher and stronger. Although most masters recommended you start on something softer than a solid tree, Pyro was impatient.
He had decided that if he could not defeat this tree, than it was time to give up on life. There was no way he was going to let himself get beaten by a tree. Pyro’s fist pounded in again and again, followed by a few kick combos and immediately back into a punching rhythm. He never let up, as soon as the adrenaline wore off he would feel his aching hands and feet, but right now, those did not matter. The rut began to wear deeper and deeper into the face of the tree.
Than, with a final punch, Pyro heard a loud Crack! Smirking to himself he sidestepped a little and watched as the tree caved in on itself and toppled over. Rubbing his hands together Pyro circled the fallen tree, examining his handiwork. It was than that he noticed the bruised and bleeding knuckles and swollen ankles. Sighing he moved over to another stump and picked up a towel and began to towel himself off, wiping off any blood. He stretched and looked up at the sky, letting the warmth of the sun sink into his body and heal his minor wounds.
He threw two more punching combos at the tree, than stepped back and spun around, connecting with a roundhouse kick. This had been his first time out training in a long time, his body wasn’t used to the exercise anymore and he was covered in sweat and breathing hard. A week ago Pyro had seemed a shell of his former self. His body drooped with weary. He hadn’t shaven or kept up his appearance at all. All that had changed when he found this new anger inside.
His face was cleanly shaven again. His hair was once again braided back into its regular tight ponytail, although a few hairs had escaped the tight hold. With this new found energy his body had quickly tightened back, even his eyes seemed to sparkle with that same old inner finer that he used to posses. He was far from being back to normal, he knew that. Also he had a lot of things to make up for, like getting his position back as a starting Chaser on the Quidditch team.
All would come in due time, right now, all that bothered Pyro was the tree. It wasn’t full grown, in fact it was still pretty young, and only two feet in diameter. Pyro’s hits were perfect and on the mark each time and his attacks had slowly begun to wear a rut into the tough bark. Pyro had studied this kind of extreme training, it was mostly used to get your hands tougher and stronger. Although most masters recommended you start on something softer than a solid tree, Pyro was impatient.
He had decided that if he could not defeat this tree, than it was time to give up on life. There was no way he was going to let himself get beaten by a tree. Pyro’s fist pounded in again and again, followed by a few kick combos and immediately back into a punching rhythm. He never let up, as soon as the adrenaline wore off he would feel his aching hands and feet, but right now, those did not matter. The rut began to wear deeper and deeper into the face of the tree.
Than, with a final punch, Pyro heard a loud Crack! Smirking to himself he sidestepped a little and watched as the tree caved in on itself and toppled over. Rubbing his hands together Pyro circled the fallen tree, examining his handiwork. It was than that he noticed the bruised and bleeding knuckles and swollen ankles. Sighing he moved over to another stump and picked up a towel and began to towel himself off, wiping off any blood. He stretched and looked up at the sky, letting the warmth of the sun sink into his body and heal his minor wounds.
