fandomhighdorms | Gym, Wednesday evening

Current Music: "In Bloom," Nirvana

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Gym, Wednesday evening

Angela's muscles were a little cramped from the bus ride, so she decided to yank on her workout clothes and head down to the gym.

She contemplated the weight circuit and the exercise bike before getting on an elliptical runner. She had Nirvana, loud, on her headphones and was contemplating what she wanted to do during her days at home.

[OOC: Come sweat with me!]

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Alanna had been basically living at the gym for the past day, with short breaks for food. Sometimes. If a punching bag could cry, it would have done so upon seeing Alanna.

Alanna nodded at Angela and went to her new favorite hobby of beating up the punching bag.

Angela turned the volume down on her iPod and waved at Alanna. "Are you trying to kill that thing, or something?" she asked, voice coming out in short spurts.

"I've named it Jon." Alanna explained, while continuing to punch the bag. "If I'm lucky, he can feel every single punch." She punctuated the last word with a kick.

"Ah," Angela said.

Then, cautiously, "Who's John? Not one of the Johns here, right?" She would have noticed if Alanna was dating one of them. She thinks.

Alanna's answer was composed completely of colorful vocabulary strung together into an almost gramatically correct sentance. She took a breath and stopped the punching bag from moving. "No. Jon. Crown Prince Jon of Conte. At home." Kick, punch, jab.

Angela nodded, eyes following the action. "...Jerk. I mean, I'm guessing."

Alanna offerred up a few more colorful adjectives to describe Jon. "Among other things, yes." She launched a rather vicious punch at the 'head'. "I wish the bastard felt that one."

Angela slowed in her running enough to raise an eyebrow at Alanna. "Do you want me to ask what he did, or should I just let you kill the punching bag in peace?"

"Well, it's lovely to arrive at home and discover one's friends are making bets about who ones, um, suitor person, is sleeping with. Even if said friends are happily unaware of anything that might be happening underneath their noses. And then being bloody expected to act civilly and normally and not letting anyone know that you have just had a row with the Crown Prince not because you don't approve of his latest girl-friend but because you two just broke up. Violently." Alanna's explanation was punctuated with jabs at the bag. "And the vase? Did not get knocked over by me because I was klumsy. It got knocked over by me because it went flying at Jon's bloody head. And would have hit had the bastard not ducked."

"Too bad it didn't get him," Angela said, some anger now speeding her run. "God, why do guys do that? They just wait until you're looking someplace else and then they're all over your best friend, or someone."

"It sucks that you can't just let everyone know what a dick he is."

Alanna laughed dryly. "Lady Delia is far from being my 'best friend'. The little-" The words that had been before aimed at Jon were now aimed at Delia. Alanna had quite an arsenal of curse words at her use when necessary. "And yes, it is a bit hard. Seeing as how everyone thinks I'm a boy." Poor bag. What did it ever do to Alanna?

"Still?" Angela said. "Okay, that beats whatever I would have said. Can you ever tell them, or do you just have to be a boy until you die?"

She scowled at the monitor on the eliptical runner. "My ex slept with my best friend last year, is all. But she was ... most of what you called Delia. I'm not over it yet."

"Yes, still. And I'm hoping that only until I get my shield. Then I'll...figure something out. Temporary leaving the capital will probably be part of the plan." Kick, jab, punch, repeat. "And ugh, I feel the pain. Delia is." Alanna stopped for a moment to find the right words. "Tall, blonde, blue-eyed slut who realizes that her beauty can get her into the beds, and lives, of Tortall's wealthiest and most prominent sons." Another pause and a short laugh. "She kind of missed when trying to make me fall in love with her. And damn, she spent a lot of energy on that project." Back to killing the bag.

"Rayanne isn't even that pretty," Angela said. "She just, like, believes guys will sleep with her. So they do. She doesn't get all wrapped up in the relationship stuff."

"I mean, I don't really care who she does whatever to, but it wasn't like she even cared about Jordan. She was just drunk." A year later, and Angela still can't make this make sense to her.

She did manage a smile at the idea of a girl trying tos educe Alanna, though. "So people back home must think you're practically a monk."

"Either that or gay. Especially since I don't bother the maids." Alanna glumly replied. "I think some people don't need a reason to sleep together aside from 'felt horny'. Guys usually though."

Parker's still giggling from what she and Rory did to Xander occasionally when she comes in to work out the last of her travel lag. "Hey Angela. Alanna."

She starts stretching carefully, then slowly starts to move through her aikido blocks and kicks, at about half-speed.

"Yeah ... I'm not like a guy, though," Angela said glumly. "It would have made my life way easier back home, if I was."

The absurdity of what she was saying, and to whom, hit her. "Um, not as much easier as it would make your life. Sorry."

Alanna glared at the punching bag and launched a new set of punches at it. "Men are scum. Pretty much end of story. And I'm including Gary in that because if someone is growling at you everytime you mention a name, you cut it out and don't bait the person. And Raoul because he was just standing there, being Raoul and plotting the fastest route of the room. And Geoffrey because he bet on there being a marriage by the end of the month. And Alex because he wasn't even there. And George because." Alanna paused. "Um, because he probably knew and didn't tell me." Ranting, yes, a bit.

"Hey Parker," Angela said. "So why is life still easier for guys?"

Parker paused for a moment, then said, "In what sense? They have bad fashion sense, they look horrible when they wake up, and most of them have no idea how to cry their way out of a ticket or other trouble. Give me something specific to work with."

"Okay, I have absolutely no idea who any of those people are?" Angela said. "But, yeah. Guys pretty much suck. Possibly not Marty, but he's an exception."

"They can sleep around, cheat on their girlfriends, and not be called sluts? Though that goes for the girls they sleep around with sometimes too." Kick, jab, punch, repeat.

"Oh, that." Parker punched out, snake-fast, then did a high-to-low block. "Honest answer?"

Poor bag, it wasn't going to make it through the night, was it? "Yes please. I'm tired to the bone of being lied to by." And Alanna went back to her usual language of cussing.

"Honesty would be nice," Angela agreed.

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Gym, Wednesday evening

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