((Repost for description))
The "gym" was simply a patch of dirt right outside of the main building, with things such as punching bags, weights, and much more; most of the people exercising (or wrestling each other) were primarily the fit men, muscular and well, some even training with different types of melee weapon. They found themselves by what seemed to be a man of muscular physique without a shirt and with dark, white-striped gym shorts on; he was sending repeated punches towards a bag with great fervor, sending the bag pounding back with extreme force much higher than a normal man would; he had a short trimmed head with hollowed, dark eyes staring ahead with intent at the punching bag as he went to town on it, body fluidly moving as he punched.
They likely knew this man well; his name was simply 'Jim' and he was one of the physical trainers in Camp Cinder. His punches were gifted with supernatural strength and agility, and even without his magic, he was known as one of the top boxers in Paris before it was destroyed. Despite the gloom, it seems that the camp is absolutely teeming with life.
Alistair also rests his head, having spent quite a while punching a white sack.
Jim glanced over, huffing only a little bit as his muscles bulged in their post-exercise glory; he spoke, voice filled with intent,
"Come on, let me see your best punch, man."Nith smiles beneath his mask, and stands up from his hammock.
"Sleep well, Serena."
He just starts walking around now.
Living Quarters B was a medium-sized building of concrete, filled mostly with hammocks and some means of entertainment. He pushed the nondescript wooden door open and found himself outside on the gravel road of the refugee camp, streetlights of white illuminating the darkness of the night slightly. He found the occasional aimless wanderer leaning against a lamp post; a dark Human man of tall stature, hair messily cut into a short, dark style; he wore a white tee and dirty, cut blue jeans and he was it seems of African descent. Ahead, sitting by the medical tent door were three people with obvious injuries; one woman with messy, long and blonde hair had a dark and purple marking, curved and swirling on her arm that pulsed with magical color - a curse, causing her a great amount of pain. The man beside her was attempting to comfort her, pale hand gently shaking the suffering woman's shoulder and telling her it will be alright amidst her whimpers of pain. The final person was quite ugly; his face was hollowed and pale, eyes clouded in white from the plague of a curse; he was malnourished and unhealthily thin, bones showing well as the frail person sat in a fetal position, waiting his turn in the medical tent.
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Topic: Fall of the Magic Girls (RotMG 4) [IC] - Morning in Cinder (Read 15784 times)