Bouncing off the walls

To any walking by the empty gym a soft tapping sound, varied in its consistency, could be heard. Now why would there be a tapping sound in the gym at midnight? Simple, an insomniac who played the drums and trained to take off the edge that not being able to sleep caused. Currently the seventeen year old female was tapping away at a small square of concrete, beat up black drum-sticks a blur since they moved so fast, her head bobbing in time as her foot also tapped away. Suddenly the frequency of the tapping increased, and suddenly, it stopped, and the sticks were placed on top of the pile that was an over-sized red sweatshirt.

Standing abruptly, she reached her hands above her head, white tank top also rising to reveal a sliver of pale stomach, a pair of black wings on either hip also visible for a span of seconds. Then she bent at the waist, legs spread apart, touching one brown sneakered foot, then the other. While her hands were on the floor, she placed them in the space between her spread feet, shifting all her weight to her hands, her legs rose into the air slowly to meet, toes pointing straight up. Bending her arms, she rolled out of the hand-stand rising smoothly.

Moving to a wall, sea-foam green eyes studied upward, then the ceiling. With a sigh, her eyes focused, and she set both hands upon the wall, her feet soon following. Her gray sweatpants, which were rolled to beneath her knees, allowed her to move freely up the wall. Light pink locks were tied back in twin buns, shorter pieces held back by a black headband, her vision unimpaired. When she reached the top of the wall, she looked behind, then a blink of an eye later, she jumped. Quickly she grabbed the rope hanging from the ceiling with both hands, quelling the urge to wince as she experienced the sensation of rope burn. She stopped herself from sliding down the rope further by grasping it with her feet. Once she was still, she began her descent, letting go when she was around three feet from the mat. All was done in a rather nonchalant manner that was typical of the younger Exar sister, Ace.

"That's what healers are for," she said, her voice identically accented, as she looked at her raw hands. With a shrug she blew gently on the torn skin, willing away the burning as she then shook her scarred hands. Ace had many scars in fact, most were simply small unnoticeable nicks, but some, like the white strip on the back of her neck, were quite visible when uncovered. It was odd that she should have so many when she could pull bones from her body, but only the wounds created by such an act healed without a permanent mark left behind.

"As usual. You think it's going to be like last time Loo?" she questioned in reference to their last school experience. Forcing the pain in her hands from her mind, she once more lowered her hands to the floor and lifted her legs so that she was in a hand-stand. Lifting one hand from the floor, her legs spread until they were in the shape of a V. When she placed her hand on the mat so that both hands were supporting her weight, she closed her legs, but repeated her previous action when her other hand was lifted to the side.

Ace bent at the waist, as her feet touched the ground she stood, finally drawing her attention to the boy. Though the blood had been rushing to her head, her face was still the same complexion, not pale as expected of one in her former position for extended amounts of time, as she had been.

"Ace," she stated briefly, before moving back to the hanging rope, which now had some of her skin as a souvenir. Though she was normally the more social of the two, when training or during her bouts of insomnia, she preferred not to talk, often doing so in only brief sentences. Taking the same approach to climbing the rope as she did to climbing a wall, she first grasped it with both hands, then bent her legs, her feet coming to rest on the knot at the bottom of the rope. Slowly she began her ascent, ignoring the irritation the rope was causing against raw skin on her palms.