[training log] we are the champions

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :44
SUMMARY: 1988 Crystal Light National Aerobic Championship.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

DAY 44 begins without ceremony, the station quiet and still, the murmur of host's minds distant. Even with all of the current new hosts returned from their mission the station is too large to ever really feel lived in. It is almost peaceful, when the call comes.

The voice is nothing like Cathaway's, who is so often in the young Host's minds, but then again Prince was rarely so warm or inviting, and in the days he has had to recover from the Station's recent jumps he has returned to his more stable state, his tone perfectly matched to his speech, seeming as near as if he is speaking just over their shoulders.

'Good morning. I would like to encourage all hosts, most especially those fresh to the station, to join us today in the Training Wing. This resource is not to be underestimated, as it will not be available to you when you are on assignment. Attendance is recommended.'

With that simple message he is again gone from their minds, leaving them alone with their own thoughts- and anyone else who shares them. Left behind is the impression of how to reach the Training Wing, in case anyone is unaware.




FOR THOSE WHO CHOSE to follow the call and make their way to the Training wing, they will find Prince, once again adorned in his traditional uniform. He has beside him a small stack of charcoal grey jumpsuits identical to it beside him, for any host who had not previously made their way to the wing.

For those who are familiar with the space he simply nods to them and leaves them to their own devices, unless they should chose to approach him for more than simple encouragement. For those who are new, he will direct them to the lockers and give them the honeycomb textured jumpsuits, which will fit them perfectly. He will also give a brief explanation of Iota and Rho symbiotic types for those who need it ((as outlined in the setting)) and go into the basics of the specialized abilities all hosts develop. He will not divulge the exact ability that a host possesses at that time, but may be persuaded to with some difficulty. He will then suggest that they set their mind to learning what they can aboard the station, and let each host know that he only teaches the willing.

After that, the space is theirs.

---

((OOC Notes: Welcome to the second training log! Below you will find some information from the first log, which is now also available in the setting section!

The Training Wing is large- bigger than the biggest gym, and it contains a number of specialized spaces for Host’s use. What follows is an (incomplete) list of amenities. Have an idea for another space? Drop us a line in the questions section of the most recent calendar post! The training wing itself is a central hub-type area with a number of hallways that branch out in a vaguely spiraling fashion spanning multiple levels. Below are a list of locations key to this log:

• Lockers - Featuring rows of open cubbies, shower spaces, a bathroom, towels, and sets of shoes for those of you without proper footwear. Hosts visiting the lockers for the first time will receive their station-standard charcoal grey suits, which are tailor fit to their exact measurements. These suits are flexible, strong, and surprisingly breathable, and are comfortable enough to wear all day.

• Track - Centrally located there is a large running track that is multiple lanes wide, the ground of which is coated in some sort of slightly rubbery, gripping substance.

• Gym - Located not far from the lockers is an almost traditional gym space, with a number of pieces of exercise equipment, some of which is familiar and some of which is not. There are instructions that will read in a pleasant voice if you seem lost. You will find both strength and cardio equipment arranged in a somewhat sensible manner.

• Training Hall - A large open space with a number of pads on the floors and walls and a wide variety of dummies and protective gear. This is the space where you will find melee practice weapons ranging from swords and pikes to slightly more exotic weaponry- all blunted or dulled- as well as room for most forms of martial arts.

• Range - Lying closest to the Flight Hangar, this room features a number of targets and projectile training weapons. Here you will find everything from bows and arrows to laser guns. Nothing is capable of doing real damage, but it feels and reacts in a way that’s very real. Handy readouts will tell you exactly how accurate (or inaccurate) you are.

• Pool - It’s a pool, there are lanes, so swim free. Please don’t drown. There is no sauna. There are two styles of suits available, a simple charcoal one-piece with white piping, and an equally simple charcoal swim briefs with matching white piping.

We're in control, body and soul,
We push ourselves to the maximum!!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

Cathaway | NPC | ota

[polyphonos]

a. suck it, michael phelps

[Surely a moment ago,
Cathaway was actually swimming. Water is glittering on her shoulders and she's wringing moisture from her pale hair, but at present she's simply perched at the edge of the large pool with her legs in the water. Is it strange to see her out of her draped clothing, without The threads of gold jewelry looped at her hips and strung through her fingers? Certainly she is inordinately small in the sleeveless body suit, the opalescent fabric ending just above sharp narrow knees.

She hums idly as she twists the water from her hair, one foot stirring through the pool's cool water.

There are worse ways to spend a day.]

b. hard work or hardly working

[Cathaway isn't interested in setting a pace on the track. Instead she's taken a seat on a slate grey bench at the center of the expansive oval (was the bench there a moment ago?), and is making a day of removing the multitude of charms from the small chains typically strung through her clothes.

She has a small set of tools and the process is methodical, meditative. She creates rows of small metallic charms - geometric shapes, miniature alien creatures, and strange flora -, then sets about reordering them with apparently significant thought.

Running is for chumps, apparently.]

B

[sistershoggoth]

Oi.

[ Annie had promised she'd talk to this bitch if she saw her, but she's not really all that enthused about it either. ]

Need to talk to you.

b

[wrackful]

[Running is absolutely for chumps, though really, Murphy already did his Bellamy-and-Annie decreed laps this morning, and definitely isn't going to willingly do extra. He hasn't even changed into a jumpsuit, though he'd stuck around to listen to Prince's talk. Which had ended up being worth it, even if it just left him with more questions.

Questions he probably could've directed at Prince. Instead he's here, taking a seat at the further end of the bench, glancing over the rows of charms. Not disturbing them.]

So do you know what type everyone's got? Or are you guessing as much as we are.

a

[deployed]

[ None of the children of the Ark were taught to swim. Space required many things of them, but navigating large bodies of water was not one of them. Bellamy isn't even entirely sure it's something he needs to know now, but the pool exists and it is a safer challenge than harnessing the poison in his fingers or the way his thoughts and emotions unspool at the slightest provocation. Comparatively, flinging himself into the deep end of the pool is an easy prospect for self-improvement.

He has seen Cathaway in water before, surrounded by greenery, wielding sharp objects. This time she has none. Her empty hands are stranger than her swimming costume. Bellamy's stride doesn't break, but he does refrain from just his usual routine of skeptically circling the pool for the best place to ease into the water. ]

I would have expected to see Prince.

[ Not that Bellamy's as familiar with Prince as he is with Cathaway, but from the projected message he'd assumed the training wing were more his domain than Cathaway's. ]

bellamy blake | ota.

[deployed]

( training hall )

[ The invitation had been completely welcome. There's only so often Bellamy can bother Sam, and the prospect of training with Prince piques his curiosity. He's been outmatched in most of his bouts since he arrived on the Station, and he's aware of being outclassed. He's also aware of how he's improved because of it. There's no real way to temper Bellamy's impulsive approach to fighting, but he's gotten stronger, and he's gotten better at observing the movements of his opponents. Spending his time on the Station improving those skills only makes sense to him.

And it keeps him from dwelling on the Darkling, and the ever-present, excruciating absence of him. Throwing himself entirely into sparring matches is the best distraction Bellamy knows. It tempers the urge towards destruction and anger that Bellamy might have tried to shake, but hasn't quite managed it. Getting knocked down by better opponents is a strange kind of relief. The bruises he'll walk away from this with are all worth it.

Come knock him down, folks. Or try to. ]

( swimming pool )

[ Before now, Bellamy had never seen a swimming pool, much less had opportunity to utilize one. Swimming was the kind of frivolity that hadn't existed on the Ark, and no one had made time for on the ground. Bellamy isn't even wholly certain he wants to make time for it now. He'd circled the pool the last time they'd been on the Station, skeptical, and left without dipping a toe in. Now, he's at least graduated to stowing his clothes in a locker and struggling into a pair of briefs before going back to circle the pool again.

He doesn't know how to swim. That's quite the stumbling block. Bellamy has counted on instinct before in his life, but he's reluctant to rely solely on them to keep from drowning in a sprawling pool on a space station.

He's never seen water like this. It's clean and still. The pond he'd found Cathaway in had been dark and overgrown with greenery, and that had been closer to what Bellamy was used to than the manufactured elegance of this particular body of water.

Well, he'll start with the shallow end. What could go wrong with that? ]

( wild card. )

[ choose your own adventure. ]

training hall!!!

[lilies]

[ there's a patience to gladio that seems to stretch for miles like open, battered road. this is what he was raised for, what he grew up doing: taking blow for blow and dodging, moving, being there to train and to teach.

even the impulse that's rolling off of his opponent in waves feels familiar. this is frustration, a distraction, and gladio is happy to supply it. He deflects what hits him sloppily and is equally caught by eyes that read him even though they've barely met. it's been a while since gladio has been in this kind of setting, and it eases the cagey nerves that have started to creep in with the invasiveness of the station itself.

the blow that fells bellamy is part luck and part good-timing. gladio sees an opening and moves in for it, sweeping low to knock his ankles out from under him while he's in a stance in between movements to send him to the ground. even so, gladio can still feel the sting of a variety of very good hits along his side. they'll stay for a while, he's sure of it. half-poised in a crouch, he laughs a little, and he admits: ]

You almost had me there for a while.

swimming

[wrackful]

Never got around to swimming classes in Arkadia, huh?

[Murphy hasn't changed into a jumpsuit or any kind of swimming attire. Still in a hoodie, hands in his pockets as he wanders up to the poolside, eyeing the water before he looks back to Bellamy again. He'd seen how tentatively Bellamy had climbed in. Braver than Murphy, again, but then, he hadn't dealt with watching a sea monster eat two people, drifting in wide open water in a tiny wooden boat.]

Kind of left a big gaping hole in the Earth skills handbook, if you ask me.

wildcard

[adamance]

You're improving.

[Lexa's participation in Bellamy's training has been one of distance. Though she had tested the limits of his strength upon their return to the Station, it had been all for the sake of confirming that, like her, he's an Iota. Her involvement with him beyond that is more personal, largely kept out of the Training Wing except when she decides that he needs to know her opinion on the matter. With Bellamy, she actually pays him the respect of not always judging him—it's an odd statement on the closeness of their relationship.

That said, her words aren't without intention, and they don't come from nowhere. It's obvious throughout the course of this training experience that she has been observing him, albeit from a distance. It's only when things begin to wind down that she sits with a bottle of water not far from where he's finishing his exercises. For her part, it's her third bottle of water, a sign that she's been utilizing her own training room for her own purposes.]

Do you think you'll be able to protect what matters here? [The question is searching, at least to some degree. She knows that he's been observing her in his own way, but unlike days and months ago, she doesn't rebuke him for it. His constant reminder of his worries is just as customary as anything now.]

closed to the prince.

[deployed]

[ The only person who spars with Bellamy consistently is Sam Wilson. That had been enough, while the Darkling was still awake. Now there's a void, and Bellamy's doing his level best to fill it productively. Less murder, less lashing out, more training. It seems like a far better way to handle the absence of someone so precious. The Darkling is not Clarke, nor is he Octavia, but his name has somehow ascended to join their ranks, and the passing days do very little to soften the loss of him.

Sparring with other members of the Nest is always challenging. It's more difficult now. His mind is unruly, clinging on, and that makes it more difficult not to anticipate the coming blows. He thinks sometimes of Kylo Ren on the rooftop and the ache of mirrored bruises they'd given each other. It's like that sometimes, with Sam.

The Prince is different. He's different from Kylo Ren and he's different from Sam Wilson, and he's different from Lincoln. He's thorough, and careful. Bellamy's never been made to stretch before sparring, and the extra measure of caution is difficult to accept. Bellamy's impatient. It makes him sloppy. He can hold out for a certain amount of time, but eventually— ]

How many is that? [ Bellamy asked from the floor, pushing up on his elbows.

Enough that maybe Bellamy should be embarrassed. But it doesn't occur to him that he should be. He's learning. Maybe he will never completely excise the emotion from the way he fights, but at least he's trying. And it's better than the alternative, which is trying to push the gnawing absence of the Darkling out of his mind with books. ]

lexa | ota

[adamance]

[Lexa is and will always be someone who trains regularly. Even if she is caught up in the concerns of other people's lives—which they may not ask for themselves—she still gets in time in the training area at least a little bit every day. Some part of her fears being weak, so she's driven by this routine.

Being off on missions disrupts that, so she is at least glad for this part of the Station, and what benefits it allows her to reap.]

range

[Helped along by an advanced bow and arrow, Lexa's time in the range is focused, to the degree that she has chosen to block out any sound or disruptions from other people. Her accuracy is near perfect, which shouldn't be surprising for anyone who's seen her fight before. For those who haven't, an arrow is easier for her to guide than a spear, but if she had chosen to play target practice with those, she knows the range would be in disarray.

It's only after an hour of shooting that she comes to a pause, setting aside the bow and arrow, to come to train her attention on a different weapon: a gun. There is a sense of festering anxiety that builds up within her as she considers it. The gun is clearly there because Lexa wants it to be there, but she hasn't moved it from its initial placement.

To anyone observing, it's apparent that Lexa is having a battle with herself—and one that is surprisingly public. She may be silent, but the consternation that is present on her features is undeniable.]

training hall

[Just as Lexa has in the past and will inevitably do in the future, she has set up a "station" of sorts for anyone who might answer her call. Near her is an array of weapons: pole-arms, practice blades, and similar items to use to their advantage. Though it may not be immediately clear to newcomers—or those unfamiliar with Lexa—she doesn't mean to idly spar. This is all to train—and to gain at least a beginning lesson with Lexa herself.

Just as someone might pour in from another activity or for the first time, she'll nod to them in greeting.]

Care to join me? I trust that you're here for a reason, after all.

a room of her own

[As she had discussed with Prince a little bit ago, Lexa now has a room set aside for herself. Explaining her lack of comfort in growing more familiar with her abilities had been difficult, but she had found a (reluctant, at least on her part) kinship in Prince's understanding of her reluctance. Now that she's without a brood, she does not have the bodies and minds to make up for her difficulties. She has only those she's decided are her people, or her friends, or whatever blurred lines have taken place.

Lexa sits at the center of the room with an object that is both flammable and meant to control the flames. Her hand reaches out, and begins to burn bright. Only she hesitates with sweat droplets forming on her brow if anyone might pass by to consider what's happening within this room.

Unable to speak with ease, she reaches out with her mind: ( If you're curious, I'm willing to explain. )

[Lexa's version of events is always ... well, her version. But she is training a special ability.]

wildcard

[Lexa will be hitting the pool, lockers, and gym area to do some more basic exercises.]

training hall! also lmk if anything needs editing

[ergane]

Yeah, I would.

[ annabeth still isn't quite sure what she thinks of lexa. the other girl hadn't been what she'd call easy to get along with, but if annabeth's being honest? neither is she. more than that, lexa had both had and shared information, and there's something to her demeanor, her composure, that annabeth finds herself begrudgingly respecting.

annabeth had once picked reyna ramirez-arellano out of a crowd as a leader. lexa has a similar vibe: her certainty, her bearing, the way she shows no weakness. annabeth doesn't have the same kind of rigid control, but they're qualities she's found herself wearing often. camp half-blood doesn't have as strict a hierarchy as, say, the roman camp (or lexa's culture, not that she knows), but she knows that groups don't follow people who show uncertainty -- and enemies don't show any mercy to weakness. ]

Training with dummies and targets can get pretty old pretty fast.

training hall

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy arrives, seeming a bit more chipper than the last time she'd seen Lexa. For one thing, she's slowly getting more comfortable here. For another, she's going to see someone she actually likes. She raises a hand in greeting and pauses to survey the practice gear. ]

Of course. Normally I don't worry too much, since I have to do these things every day. Here,there's no absolute need for it. I need to practice to stay sharp.

[ Like a well-honed blade, she needs care and maintenance to stay at that knife's edge. Training will just be part of it. ]

Range

[earthborn]

Shepard herself loves a good firing range. Well, she likes using her weaponry, at least-- the range itself is often incidental. There hasn't been much call for them, outside of the long gaps between regular combat assignments. In the last seven years, very little call for them at all.

This one was almost as nice, though, and as nicely stocked, as the Spectres-only range on the Citadel. It was pleasingly high-tech, the readouts precise, varied, and with options for everything between the newest energy-weapons and, apparently, old-fashioned bows-and-arrows. Shepard's just finishing when Lexa arrives, and she's been taking her time with cleanup to give herself an excuse to watch her work.

Not the kind of thing you see every day, someone with a bow. There's good reason for that in the weapon Lexa is now doing her level best to stare down. The pistol is, unsurprisingly, not concerned with the possible ramifications of The Evil Eye.

"You want to actually use that, or just look at it," Shepard says, in the waiting silence. It's just the two of them in here, today, and the hardness of the room renders her voice loud, importunate with echo, "Have you ever used a gun before?"

clint barton | mcu | ota

[cognitived]

a. range;

[ In truth, Clint was already in the range when the summons filtered through. It's a familiar haunt, and the Darkling's loss is still close enough to the surface, that Clint's distracting himself as he does best. The familiar motion of drawing a bow, the reassuring hit of a bulls-eye -- it's something he's fallen back on since he was a kid. So Clint goes through one full quiver, refills, and goes through another. Stationary and moving targets, he hits them all with practiced ease.

Someone happening to watch might eventually realize those handy readouts read perfect every time.

Eventually though, the loss and nightmare driven tension eases from his frame, and Clint relaxes into his practice. This is where he shines, where he excels, and eventually those never missed shots start gaining more and more flair. Until they're nearly all trick shots, blindly aimed, or even just utterly ridiculous.

The ebb of his mind gleams with contentment, though, so at least he's having fun. ]

b. training hall;

[ While it might seem like Clint lives in the range, he can often be found in the training hall too. Usually it's with Sam, fighting tooth and nail to keep their skills honed sharp. Other times it's brutal and vicious and contained to the calculated destruction of training dummies. Clint is, after all, a secret agent man.

But coming from the end of a stint at the range, this is something calmer. Little more than a simple work out -- though, considering Clint was an assassin and a superhero, his simple work outs are still a bit extra.

Eventually though, he wanders over to the swords and take his pick. Though clearly at ease with the weapon, and having a solid stance, it's also easily apparent that this isn't something he's practiced with recently. In fact, it's largely showy, flashy moves; things Clint remembers from his childhood in the circus.

In the end, the sword gets put up, and he moves on. ]

c. training hall; closed to sam

[ By now, the hall has emptied of most of it's people. Which mostly means it's incredibly easy for Clint to flip a knife between his fingers and mentally nudge Sam to gather his wings. Training while Sam's winged is nothing new to either of them, of course, but this is more of a game than anything.

Though maybe not the best one out there.

Still, the trust they have in each other's abilities means there's no hesitation. And though it's Clint's idea, Sam's right there with him. By the time Sam straps in, Clint's warned what few others are in the area. With a grin, and a bit of shielding to add a little more difficulty to their movements. The knives are evenly balanced, well crafted. When paired with his marksmanship, there's no doubt that they won't miss. Still, it should probably a little insulting at how lackadaisically Clint tosses. An idle flick of the wrist sends the first blade flying true, with just enough force behind it to hurt.

Easy enough to block, for now. ]

You done playing around, Falcon? Or you feelin' a bit rusty?

d. wild card;

[ Choose you're own adventure. ]

b

[shiro2hero]

You look like someone back home when you do that.

[He may have not completely meant to say that out loud, but who's counting. Clint probably won't mind. And he says it with a lot of fondness. As much as he tries to keep his thoughts locked down, his memories withheld, there's the inevitable flashes of red and white armor, of a sword, unkempt hair and an expression set in mild, constant, irritation.]

[Been a long time since he'd seen anyone flick a sword around like that.]

Where'd you learn?

C

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam laughs softly the moment he catches on to what Clint's doing, rolling his shoulders and spreading his wings just as lazily as Clint handles his knives. It's a game, that much is clear, and he watches Clint as though he was flipping pancakes instead of knives.

Even without the wings as a defense, Sam would trust Clint not to hit him, but this is more than a trust exercise. This is for fun.

Probably not the kind of fun people might expect Sam to be having, but here he is anyway, flicking a wing up to knock the blade away like he was just stretching. ]

Who's playing, Hawkeye, thought you were gonna show me how good you are with your hands? [ There's the hint of a smirk. ] You already know how good I am with mine.

range

[ergane]

[ annabeth had been practicing her own archery skills here in the training hall -- they really hadn't to pull her leg with the summons, as much time as she spends here -- but found her concentration interrupted by clint. not such a bad thing, considering the warm happiness that reverberates off his mind. after a point she gives up and just watches, arms akimbo. ]

Now you're just showing off.

[shiro2hero]

a) GYM
[Full armor -- minus the helmet. It's not that heavy, he's fairly used to it, but all the same, it's better to train in, this way. Better to do weights and reps and pushups and everything else while wearing what he's used to working in. Used to fighting in.]

[With his metal arm covered, it looks like he's just a normal dude, power lifting like normal people do hand weights. And thinking nothing of it.]

[Once that's done, he's off to more exercises. Moving with the determination of someone who is absolutely keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.]


b) TRAINING HALL
[There's all kinds of weapons to choose from, but, really, his specialty is hand-to-hand, no pun intended. He's still wearing armor, but now his helmet is in place, as he hunkers down, watching whoever else might be in the room.]

[Should they pause, he'll lift a hand, intending to get their attention.]

Hey -- you up for a round or two?


c) POOL
[Because no trip to anywhere is complete without a little bit of embarrassment. And these little booty short swim briefs are it. This is the face of a man who is torn between getting in the water and preserving his limited dignity.]

[He could probably just... go in with his clothes. The Paladin armor body suit is probably waterproof. Probably.]

[You can also probably find him weighing his options outside the actual pool, so. Weigh in?]

b

[adamance]

I am. Though it appears that you're intending these rounds to be far more violent than most. [It's not that she thinks the armor is unnecessary—there are many among the hosts who don't know how to contain themselves, especially the ones who are new—but the degree of it surprises her. For her part, she is wearing the basics, if only because she knows there will be many moments where she is caught unawares.]

Is there a reason for that?

[Unsurprisingly, Lexa seeks a deeper meaning to what Shiro is doing, implying that there must be one.]

b.

[earthborn]

[Shepard stops. She's feeling pretty good today, all things considered, but-- well, it's tempting. She's always up for hitting people, and even if she weren't... Shiro's tall and well-built, and if what he was doing on his own was any indication, he knows how to give, and take, a beating.

What? It's not a crime to look. The treadmills are oriented that way for a reason.]

What, really? Yeah.

[Don't get her wrong, she delighted to comply, but they hadn't parted on good terms, last time.]

...Am I underdressed? I can go gear up, if we're doing this properly.

b.

[deployed]

[ The armor is unlike anything Bellamy's seen before. It's sleeker than anything the grounders had fashioned, and it's expertly crafted in a way the guard uniforms had never been. Compared to what Shiro has on, everything else Bellamy has experienced seems clunky and crude. But it still surprises him to see Shiro wearing it. Bellamy's only in a light t-shirt and loose fitting pants, sweat darkening the fabric. He steps away from the dummy as Shiro calls, eyebrows raising. ]

A round of what?

[ It's a little bit teasing, a little bit questioning. ]

I don't think I'm outfitted for what you're asking.

gladio / ota

[lilies]

training hall ( OTA )

[ this is as familiar it gets in a largely unfamiliar place for gladio. blunted and weighted swords line the walls and for obvious reasons, gladio trades his own weapon for something with equal heft and swing. he goes through the motions of a warm up easily, each movement with the sword controlled and well-honed. considering he's no longer in the heat of battle almost every day, it'll pay off in the end to practice practice practice.

gladio's mind is, for the most part, something placid and undisturbed in this state, stable, but he's not exactly an expert at this whole controlling your errant thoughts thing. there's a groan of nostalgia like a door creaking open. a training hall, not quite like this one, windows letting in the daylight from up above, step, slash, step, guard, step--

if you're around and up for a bout, gladio is too. obviously swords and shields are his forte, but he won't turn down a little hand-to-hand on the mat either. ]

training hall ( FOR ALOY/huntsmachines )

[ this is as good a place as any for some quality bonding time, right? right. aloy's not in close vicinity, but she's around and gladio can feel it, the meandering tug of her somewhere in the station's expansive halls. he's been warming up for a bit and decides to extend the offer. ]

( Aloy, hey. ) [ reaching out to someone is so weird... ] ( Up for a little sparring? )

pool ( OTA )

[ this is literally the no shame option. because gladio has no shame and you either go big or you go home.

and by big i mean you wear the space short shorts and you get in the goddamn water in all your glory (enjoy that tattoo or smth). it's easy to get lost in the motions of a backstroke or a breast stroke, or to just let yourself float along when the pool isn't quite as occupied. this is something you can probably find him doing.

alternatively, if you look like you're balking at the water, you're probably gonna get splashed a bit from the side. ]

Oi, are you coming in or what?

POOL

[wille]

[ Is it time to face the water?

Misato can swim once upon a time, but it doesn't mean she wants to, even if she's already wearing the generic charcoal one-piece (all the better to cover her scar, which is far less aesthetically pleasing than Gladio's tattoo). She's already sitting by the edge with water lapping against her knees, but it doesn't mean she has to get all the way inside the pool, right? The water's not going anywhere, but she's growing older and running out of chances. So maybe it is time.

The look on her face is one of consternation, which shifts to surprise and more anger than warranted when she gets a splash of water to her face. Her petty streak rears its ugly head. ]

What's it to you? Maybe I just like to watch.

SLIDES IN LATE???... the pool

[somnifacient]

[Noctis is just here to check out the pool, not necessarily to swim. Spotting Gladio, he had considered maybe leaving him alone to enjoy the pool but... nah.

Eventually he'll catch sight of Noctis standing near the edge of the pool, if the man hadn't already sensed him approaching. He's certainly not dressed for a dip in the water, so he just crosses his arms and watches the water ripple.]

I'll pass. You look like you're having enough fun without me.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

track | for steve rogers
[ It's nothing like the outdoor trail he'd run in DC or back at the Avengers' compound, but a track is a track, and it's as good a place as any to keep up the running regimen he's been doing since he left the military. He keeps an even, steady pace - granted, it's faster than the one he'd kept back home, thanks to the symbiote - as he runs laps, focusing on the pound of his footsteps and the beat of his heart.

It's always been good for clearing his mind.

Which reminds him that there's more than one kind of training he'd been hoping to do here today; only he's a little more picky about who he lets into his mind for mental training. So he brightens some when he picks up Steve's presence close by, and he moves off of the track to start stretching for a cool down as he reaches out. ]

( Hey, man. When you're done with the physical training for a bit, up for doing some mind stuff with me? )


pool | for kavinsky
[ Between the Raft and bleed over from some of the other Hosts, water hasn't been the greatest association for Sam lately. But he's always been a strong swimmer, made even more so by his time as a pararescueman, and he's not about to let something interfere with that.

So he's been doing laps, more underwater than not, though he starts to slow down when he can feel Kavinsky's mental presence. Honestly, he's not sure if the kid's actually close by or if Sam's just picking him up like he is - his range is starting to grow in a way he hasn't quite gotten a handle on yet - but he reaches out anyway. ]

( You thought more about working on your shielding with me? )

[decommission]

[ Sam doesn't need to reach all too hard for Steve's attention. ]

( Been meaning to ask you the same thing. ) [ His words are light and welcoming, the link pulsing to his heart rate, quickened by exertion. Running. He never gets tired of it.

He starts making his way toward where Sam's stretching, a faint sheen of sweat at his brow. ]