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Post by Christina Galloway on Oct 21, 2010 7:24:02 GMT 10
Chris lazily warmed up for a run. It wasn't necessarily that she didn't want to practice, it was just that her mind was elsewhere and she usually prided herself on her ability to focus. She decided this was time for contemplation instead. After all, there was a lot to think about. She'd come into a new school, and of course, she was surrounded by talented pupils. They all seemed so enthralled, so organised and decisive, and it just made her consider whether running fast was really a true fulfilment of her day to day life.
She jogged gently back and forth, watching the white lines shake as her feet hit the ground. It began to give her a headache and she really didn't feel like continuing. In a dramatic movement, she gently rolled to the ground in a theatrical fall, because she wasn't brave enough just to throw herself down. There was no one around, it was mid evening, so it wasn't as though she was at risk of being trampled. She sighed to herself, puffing out her cheeks, and then chuckled a little. Her ability to continuously doubt herself was laughable. She considered how she would feel if she weren't talented...she paused in thought for a good few moments, before deciding to do a few stretched while she was sitting down. She sat up, and stretched her legs out, pulling the front of her trainers a little to stretch her leg muscles.
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Post by Jocelyn McKenzie on Oct 25, 2010 2:06:15 GMT 10
Creativity had hidden in a locked box and Jocelyn was struggling to find the key. Her usual creative stances weren't working, and although she had taken the inspirational stroll through the natural world, she was still finding difficulties in locating some sort of idea. It was this that had led her to the school's football oval. She'd been before to watch those aspirational, gifted footballers play at their best during some cup games, but never had she arrived when it had been so empty. Usually it was full of a thriving crowd, cheering and clapping, intently focused on the roundabout nature of the ball below them, but now, there was just one sole person other than her.
The girl was stretching her legs on the ground, obviously preparing herself for some form of exercise - perhaps, she was one of the more passive athleticists, one whom did not involve themselves in the physical rough aspects of sport, preferring to compete in a non-dangerous but fairly competitive way, the way that Jocelyn herself preferred too. Out of sheer boredom, and without the creativity to distract her, she approached the much older girl; at the young age of thirteen, there was difficulty in locating anyone else gifted at the same age, so she was used to the age differences.
"Good evening," she said, approaching the girl from behind, but still preparing a smile for the soon-to-be swivelled head.
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