Kennedy (
brat_inslayage) wrote in
fandomhighdorms2011-01-30 01:56 pm
Entry tags:
The Gym, Sunday Afternoon
So. Kennedy had heard the radio last night. Part of her was bummed about not getting to go along, but another part of her-- adjacent to if not necessarily the same part that was pummeling the crap out of the heavy bag right now (or trying to; she still wasn't hitting that thing nearly as solidly as she wished she could)-- had a feeling it was a good thing she hadn't.
She'd spent a good chunk of the morning on the phone with Constance, who'd been way more than a little alarmed when Kennedy'd barely waited until hellos were exchanged to start in on a barrage of questions about people coming back from the dead, but had, to her credit, explained fairly patiently what a very bad idea that typically was. (In their world's terms, anyway, which of course were terms toward which Constance was pretty strongly biased, and Kennedy had been too agitated to pay much thought to subtleties like other worlds maybe not following those rules.)
She knew she should be glad, and maybe she was. Just... it'd brought everything back: the frustration, the trauma, the anger at being used the way they had. All of that drowned out the relief, and if it was petty of her she didn't care. She should be happier about this, but mostly, right now what she wanted was to go off on Raven for letting all of this happen-- not just to her, to all of them, but she was still selfish enough that she was furious about the part she'd had to play.
Here was where the wacky came in: she was actually aware of the fact that it'd be a bad idea to do that.
Thus the gym, and the heavy bag, and the trying to wear herself into exhaustion or just burn all the anger off. Probably not the most constructive use of her time, but she cared less about constructive and more about venting.
[[cranky potential is cranky, but open gym post is open! i'm still doing the con thing today so I may be slow, but free con wifi is happy. ironically i may be around more than i usually am on weekends.]]
She'd spent a good chunk of the morning on the phone with Constance, who'd been way more than a little alarmed when Kennedy'd barely waited until hellos were exchanged to start in on a barrage of questions about people coming back from the dead, but had, to her credit, explained fairly patiently what a very bad idea that typically was. (In their world's terms, anyway, which of course were terms toward which Constance was pretty strongly biased, and Kennedy had been too agitated to pay much thought to subtleties like other worlds maybe not following those rules.)
She knew she should be glad, and maybe she was. Just... it'd brought everything back: the frustration, the trauma, the anger at being used the way they had. All of that drowned out the relief, and if it was petty of her she didn't care. She should be happier about this, but mostly, right now what she wanted was to go off on Raven for letting all of this happen-- not just to her, to all of them, but she was still selfish enough that she was furious about the part she'd had to play.
Here was where the wacky came in: she was actually aware of the fact that it'd be a bad idea to do that.
Thus the gym, and the heavy bag, and the trying to wear herself into exhaustion or just burn all the anger off. Probably not the most constructive use of her time, but she cared less about constructive and more about venting.
[[cranky potential is cranky, but open gym post is open! i'm still doing the con thing today so I may be slow, but free con wifi is happy. ironically i may be around more than i usually am on weekends.]]

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"And," she added, "thank you. I have no idea what it'll be like."
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No, it wasn't how things were supposed to work, which was throwing Kennedy's concept of everything out of whack, and contributed to the perplexed look on her face as she slumped against the wall near Tara.
"Freaking miracle, yeah. Wow. I'm glad, but..."
But something she couldn't quite sort out yet.
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The amount of self-control she was learning was impressive.
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The demon thing made it hard for her to totally believe that, was the problem. But she would try.
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Even unspoken, the but it isn't working so well rang fairly clear.
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They'd been over this ground before. Tara knew that, hence the rueful lilt to her tone.
"I can't believe she would have done it to us on purpose, though."
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Which admittedly didn't stop her from being nervous about this meeting.
"...hitting things is so much less of a headache."
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Not that that would actually help.
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Plus yes, it wouldn't help.
"Let me know how it goes, yeah, baby?"
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"Of course," she promised. "I'll call youthe second we're done ..."
She gestured vaguely. Coffeeing? Yelling? Making Dolf regret his offer?
"Talking."
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