The Gym: Wednesday morning

[vkandis-son.livejournal.com]

Karal had fed his horse and walked around the school grounds. He'd wanted to ride, but he was too tense, and Trenor had had enough this past weekend.

His seemingly aimless path back led him past the gym, and he stopped in the doorway, staring. Dean was going to teach him the staff. It hadn't happened yet, but how hard could it be? It was a stick and you hit things with it.

He could do that. He needed to do something. Karal picked one, swinging it through the air, and approached the practice dummy. His first hit was tentative, his second much surer, and then he was wailing on it, slamming the staff into the head, the shoulders, driving it into the stomach as hard as he could.

Evey's voice saying, 'It was the Shadow Gallery, and V was standing there. He'd orchestrated the whole thing. He imprisoned me. He shaved my head. He tortured me. He told me I was going to die. He stripped me of all that I was.'

Wham.

'I needed to learn to set aside fear. To be more than I was. I needed to feel everything I felt in that cell in order to survive.'

Wham.

'I needed to be this way to save England.'

Wham.

'It was necessary.'

His breath was coming in gasps, his hands were starting to hurt and blister. He didn't notice. In his mind, the dummy wore a mask.

[ooc: it's a gym, so it's open, of course, but he's probably not going to talk to you.]