The Deck [Monday afternoon]

[pasunereveuse.livejournal.com]

A week had come and gone since Ichabod had turned into an owl (not that Celia had witnessed the transformation itself -- for all she knew, it had been longer), and she was starting to get a little concerned. How long did one have to linger as an animal before there was cause for worry? Elsa had been a bear cub for what seemed to have been the better part of two weeks, after all, and didn't seem to have any ill effects or remaining bear-like tendencies.

He at least seemed to have adjusted to a more diurnal schedule, at least, which Celia was grateful for -- hard enough to come back from a week (or more, she was afraid) of having feathers without having one's sleep schedule utterly confused as well. So Monday morning saw Celia taking advantage of her day without classes or work to go out to the deck to get some sun, with Ichabod on her arm.

While she had brought her book to read (of course), she also had stuck a few brightly-colored rubber balls in her pocket, and was making a game of throwing those off the deck as far as she could for him to fly off and find. Was it demeaning to play fetch with one's significant other when they were trapped as an animal? Probably, but he seemed to be having fun with swooping off to go find the balls and bring them back in his talons, and Celia would infinitely prefer that they exercise his owl instincts this way, rather than by having him bring her mice or other adorable small creatures.

(She had heard about Elsa and the fishes, yes. Eleanor was clearly in possession of a stronger stomach than she was.)

[open deck is open!]

the gym ; monday afternoon

[flickofthewrist]

It felt like it'd been a long time since Flick had come down to the gym. Truth be told, he probably shouldn't have been here today, pushing his hand and fingers but he was. He had some pent up energy that needed to be let out in some fairly aggressive ways.

Where he usually went bare knuckled for this sort of thing, he'd slid on a pair of boxing gloves today to give his finger some protection. It still stung a bit when he struck the bag and he could feel the vibration up his arm but he pushed through it. His fingers were healed and he'd only re-break them if he got too careless.

Which he very well might do but it wasn't something he was aiming for right now. He just wanted to get back into the swing of things. He wanted to hit the heavy bag and he wanted to get out of his head because it was just dangerous up there with all his thoughts and self loathing.

So, he was there, smacking the heavy bag and testing out his healed fingers. So far, so good. Well, mostly good. Sort of good. Good enough.

[Open]