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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2015 3:44:39 GMT -8
It'd been Alcaeus' idea and Citlal's doing. The Roman's suggestion was amplified by the Aztec's obvious enthusiasm, though it was practically a battle to get all six of them standing in a large ice-skating rink after hours, and Citlal considered herself a miracle-worker akin to the gods themselves for making it happen. Move over, Huehuecóyotl, she thought, lips quirking into a wry smile as she stepped up to the indoor ice rink.
The pale expanse of the rink lay before her, glittering with a sheen that meant it'd been smoothed before the rink closed. The air was chilled, frosty. Citlal's lips pressed together slightly until she pulled her gloves on, and then her expression smoothed out--but only because she had on a shirt, a sweater, and a coat, as well as gloves and thick socks. She laced up the skates and pushed herself upward with little effort, beaming to Al as her body adjusted naturally to the change in standing.
"Did you know that the human body's made of about 700 different muscles, 900 ligaments, and--depending on several factors--around 4,000 tendons? And literally all of those systems are working together to keep us upright and balanced on our feet." She arched her back in a long stretch and then grinned, adjusting her coat. "The human body is amazing. I'm so excited." She knew the name of almost every bone, the major muscle groups, the physics of how they work together. She never stopped being impressed by the body as a magnificently functional art form--the way her muscle memory kept her upright from the start, naturally shifting her weight to keep her balanced on top of the skates.
The ice beckoned her with its untouched beauty. She leaned in and pressed her lips to Al's cheek for a brief second before making her way to the rink--pausing for a just a moment in front of the ice, eyes glittering with anticipation. "Meet you out there!" she called back to the others, and with a whoop of joy, she thrust those muscles and tendons and ligaments into motion, shoving onto the ice with a delighted beam. Her body adjusted to the motion instinctively and she leaned effortlessly into looping figures and circles. She slowly shifted into faster, smaller turns, knees and torso bent, racing over the surface without much friction to slow her down.
She arced past the benches where her friends were sitting and waved brightly before pulling into a tight spin, rotating wildly in a whirl of billowing pink hair before she raced off again. If there was one single good thing about winter, it was this--and having her closest friends skate with her was even better.
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Post by rapaolo on Jul 13, 2015 13:53:24 GMT -8
Raffaele looked out at the ice skating rink in a way that was wholly expressionless, trying to decide how he felt about the outing. If Ori hadn't promised him that it would be fun, he likely wouldn't have agreed--though Citlal's cajoling was a similar force to be reckoned with.
His coat was thin, but decently warm, and he had on his usual gloves, a stark red in the overwhelmingly blue-tinted room. The chill wasn't a problem as much as the fact that he'd never been ice skating before, and though he had some natural talent for grace, this was... likely very different. He debated for a few moments about whether to stick to honesty or to feign excitement.
... Citlal had enough excitement for the entire group. She'd already taken to the rink, spinning artful, wide loops in a way that seemed impossible to him, that bright hair flaring out and in. He decided quickly that honesty was the best option.
"So," he said to the others, in that quiet, dry humor of his, "am I correct in the estimation that I'm going to be singularly terrible...? Or has anyone else also not done this before?" He was mostly betting on the large Spartan to be the only other person who wouldn't necessarily be good at this, based solely on what he'd seen of Praxiteles' usual activities and his larger size, which made ice physics more complicated. But even still, everyone aside from Raffaele seemed capable of at least staying upright.
He sat and laced up his boots with focused determination, but did not stand immediately. He'd seated himself nearest Ori, hoping that observing her would lead to some salvaging of his dignity on the ice. Though that... wasn't likely.
Che casino. Why did I agree to this?
If he could've brought his charcoal--it'd be more fun to sketch the others ice-skating, rather than attempting this himself. The movement would've been excellent. He continued sitting, though his skates were tight around his feet and ready to use. Perhaps he could put off standing up and lessen the number of times he was going to embarrass himself. ... Maybe.
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Post by littletiare on Jul 13, 2015 15:32:04 GMT -8
Winter wasn’t her favorite season; it was, by far, her least. Tahiti didn’t have much in the way of ‘winter’, not in the way that America did, and the more brutal temperatures that the season brought always made her thankful that Tahiti hadn’t had something like it. The only good things about the season were the snow--and even then, only to look at--and the activities. Activities like ice skating.
Which is why when Alcaeus and Citlalicue had suggested it, she’d jumped at the opportunity. While she’d never learned ice skating while she was alive, being exposed to new places and things in this ‘afterlife’ had brought along the discovery of skating, and ice skating with it, and the experience was pleasant enough that it became one of the sole things she loved about winter.
Oriata looked out at the glimmering, clean white ice that served as the floor of the ice skating rink, and pulled the fur collar of her coat closer to her. While it wasn’t as cold as outside could be, the air inside the skating rink was decidedly chilly enough that she was glad she’d worn her gloves, coat, thick woolen tights, and sweater. She exhaled, breathing back in cold air before leaning down to tie the laces of her skates. Two tugs before it felt snug enough on her foot, and she laced up the strings on one foot before moving to the other.
Hearing Citlal’s last comment to them, she looked up to see her friend spinning gracefully along the ice. A small smile touched her lips as she watched; if anyone in their group could skate with enough grace to bring professional skaters to mind, she wasn’t surprised it was Citlal.
She frowned a little at Raffaele’s comment before shaking her head slightly, giving him a reassuring smile, “You’ll be fine.” She pushed herself to her feet, moving forward before turning back to face him in a single, fluid motion. “If you need help, I’ll be here.”
Smiling once more, she turned back to the entrance of the rink and with a light push, her skates met the ice as she glided forward, moving outward to make a small arc around the rink as she floated across the ice.
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"Truly the bright days shone for you..."
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Post by ChurroChariots on Jul 13, 2015 16:46:51 GMT -8
Alcaeus pulled on his gloves, stretching his fingers once they were securely in to make sure there weren’t any air pockets left. Part of him had wished he’d brought a hat, but the sustained cold in the rink wasn’t quite cold enough to warrant one. And really, with a turtleneck, scarf, coat, and thick socks, along with the feeling of the cold lessening when he actually started moving, a hat might have not been necessary.
Ice skating had been suggested on the whim that, since they were all there and it was already cold enough, they should at least do something fun. While he wasn’t sure if this matched everyone’s expectations of fun, it was still better than nothing, right? He knew his teammates enjoyed ice skating, and he himself was decent enough at it, and, well, at least half of them had seemed interested enough in the suggestion before Citlal had commandeered things and managed to corral the rest of them along.
He laughed a little, listening to Citlal’s enthusiastic commentary. 700 muscles, 900 ligaments, and 4,000 different tendons, and for some reason she knew all that off the top of her head. It was remarkable, however, that the body was made up of so many little pieces and links that worked together to keep themselves up and running and able to do whatever it is they needed to do. He nodded in agreement, lacing up the strings of his skates, and gave a quick kiss to Citlal’s cheek in return before she ran off to go skate.
Oriata was off shortly after, and Alcaeus shrugged a shoulder lightly in response to Raffaele’s question, “While Oriata might be right, I’m afraid you might.” He frowned, glancing out at the ice. He’d seen more than enough people fall while skating, and he’d had his fair share of that when he was first learning. “If it makes it any better, we won’t laugh. Everyone’s fallen down at one point or another.”
He stood up, dusting himself off lightly before looking over to the others, “In any case, see you out there.” He gave a small smile before moving to the entrance of the rink and pushing himself out onto the ice. Following Oriata’s lead, he skated along the rink, keeping to the outer edge, before moving towards the inner section where Citlal was skating. While he wasn’t really one for the deft spins and figures that Citlal seemed to enjoy, he slowly lapsed into small circular turns along the ice, making a light figure eight.
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Post by username on Jul 13, 2015 22:16:09 GMT -8
Praxiteles had gone along with nary a grumble, despite having misgivings.
Said misgivings were increasing at a steady rate. For one, there was the cold. He'd known it would be cold -- they'd decided on an ice rink, not a sauna -- but it had been a lot easier to write off the low temperatures when making spur-of-the-moment plans with friends. Death's HQ was suitably comfortable. Greece had been warm. Now the chill of this place sank into his bones, despite the extra layers he'd warn.
Cold was something that he could bear, but not something that he enjoyed. He shuddered despite his resolution to dismiss the chill as a minor discomfort, pulling his jacket tighter around himself and resolving to wear more than a single extra layer and a scarf next time they went to a cold place in the dead of winter.
For two --
" -- am I correct in the estimation that I'm going to be singularly terrible...? Or has anyone else not done this before?"
Right there lay Prax's second problem. He was pretty pessimistically sure that he would not be better at this than the last time he'd visited an ice rink. That had been a while ago, and it had gone about as well as one would expect. Any grace within his capability was usually limited to the art of fighting. Combative footwork and dodging blows were things that he could manage, but he wasn't sure how those things would translate into gliding around on slippery ice wearing bladed shoes.
Actually, scratch that. He was fairly certain that it didn't translate. At least not for him. But he took some comfort in the fact that the ice rink wasn't crowded, this time around. And in the fact that the skates didn't look to be on the verge of breaking.
Attempting to loosen the laces on his skates, he let Ori and Alcaeus have their say before turning to Raffaele himself.
"I'm sure you'll be just fine," he said, still picking at a particularly stubborn knot. Glancing towards the ice, he marveled at how relatively easy the others could make ice skating look. Graceful loops and smooth movements and not falling down and all. How they managed that was, for now, beyond him.
"And if you do fall," he added, finally managing to get the knot to come undone, "Try not to land on your face. Befriend the wall."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2015 22:42:34 GMT -8
Logistically, snow was a mess. Snow made roads difficult to travel, snow visited harsh conditions on those unlucky enough to be caught in it without shelter or thick enough clothing; snow made it nigh-impossible to grow staple foods (or, well -- it had. Greenhouses were marvelous, even if many claimed that forcing plants to grow out of season harmed the flavor) and made starvation a very real threat in the best of times. A hidden ice patch could make the unwary break their neck, weather below the freezing point made protective armor a double-edged sword.
Of all the things to miss in Death's Headquarters, Arielle missed the snow.
Bundled up in a puffy dark jacket that swallowed up her frame and didn't at all match the light flush the cold brought to her cheeks, the apprentice stripped off her gloves to retye the laces on her skates. Once the task was complete, she replaced her gloves, breathed out, and pushed up off of the bench.
Her knees and ankles wobbled, unused to the way her balanced was altered, but she drew up her spine and redirected the tension to her core, feeling out her new center of balance, which was far less precarious than Arielle had been expecting -- good, good. The knight would prefer that she did not, in fact, fall directly onto her face before ever reaching the actual rink, if she had to fall at all; it was a genuine tossup as to whether the ice or the concrete would be more unforgiving to her body, but at least falling on the rink meant there was a handy ice pack ready to render on-scene aid to the bruises prepared to blossom. And besides -- the rest of her friends were already out on the rink, or almost there. With the way Citlalicue was handling herself, there was at least one being that might be able to catch her if she tumbled.
...Definitely not Raffaele, she decided, considering the Italian had yet to even stand. Perhaps she would fall out there, on the rink, but at least she wouldn't be the first. It had to count for something, yes?
...Or maybe they would crash into each other and fall together. Their group seemed to posses just that sort of luck.
"Befriend the wall," Praxiteles had said. Out on the rink, Citlalicue was gliding over the ice, bright against the off-white of the frozen water; Citlalicue -- Citlalicue could befriend anyone, it sometimes seemed (soft hands on her cheeks and caring in her eyes, sweet words that dropped thoughtlessly from her painted mouth, a warmth inside that threatened to close up her throat), but it appeared it had not been necessary in this case. Alcaeus, too, seemed to have skipped the step of wall-hugging, and --
And standing next to the benches, staring out at the ice, was hardly going to do anything. Citlalicue had asked them all to accompany her and Alcaeus to living world, to have fun, and while Arielle hadn't initially been chomping at the bit to go, it wasn't -- unpleasant. Outside, snowflakes had melted on her face and the snowbanks around the building the rink was in were white and untouched save by the occasional smattering of footprints, and -- even if they had not come here to ice skate, she would have appreciated the view nonetheless. It was so clean. And now, now she had friends, that she liked, and liked her, that didn't make her uncomfortable or want to run away and went ice skating together.
"If you fall, we will catch you," Arielle said to Raffaele, a burst of determination guiding her to taking the first tentative steps toward the rink itself, arms a bit spread for balance, although otherwise her movement was unhindered. People reacted far better to falling companions than walls did, which is why they made far better friends -- in addition to their convenient ability to move. And talk. And...
Arielle shook her head, scrunched her nose. She was getting off-track.
Perhaps Citlalicue or Alcaeus would be willing to allow her to grasp their arms while she tested the... frozen waters.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2015 16:13:13 GMT -8
The ice was beautifully smooth under her skates. Citlal could feel the muscles in her leg shifting to keep her racing forward. Hamstrings--three muscles at the back of the thigh, affecting hips and knees--and quadriceps--a four-muscle group at the front of the thigh, extending the knee and lower leg--flexing in her upper legs while she squatted low. And most importantly, the Achilles tendon, a magnificent connection of three muscles—the plantaris, calf, and soleus—to the heel bone, storing the elastic energy needed for things like running, jumping, and ice skating.
She exhaled slowly, relaxing her body, and then flashed a wide, adrenaline-pumped grin before hurling her body into the air. For a brief, glorious moment, she was whirling in an upward arc, bursting outward in a flare of hair and pale blue coat before landing. Her legs bent to catch the impact--hamstrings and tendons and quadriceps--and she arced away over the ice while an exhilarated laugh bubbled up from her chest, arms pumping in victory. "Whoo!"
Easing her way into wider, slower curves, she looped between the other two out on the ice, bending into a bow--abdominal muscles, erector spinae, and quadratus lumborum--while her hand made a flourished outward gesture. "Ms. Tetuanui," she greeted, with a light, teasing grin as she swept by. "Mr. Vorenus. Looking splendid."
And, near the entrance to the ring, hovering--a figure smaller than Citlal, which was rare, though Arielle packed more power into every inch of her form than Citlal could've ever believed--which made her wonder. An idea blossomed in the back of her mind. Citlal made wide, leaning curves on her way over to Ari, testing how far diagonally she could go while physics and anatomy kept her upright. "Ms. Chevalier," she greeted, enlivened, curling into another soft bow before she spun to a stop. Her tongue still often tripped over the French, muddling it with her accent, but she'd gotten better at saying Ari's name with a light lilt instead of heavy tones. (And she'd finally remembered to stop saying the 'r'--a hearty struggle that had taken far too long. Poor Arielle.)
"Come skate with me!" she said, extending an eager hand--flexor carpi radialis and flexor carpi ulnaris, as well as the flexor digitorum superficialis, all beckoning her friend with a familiar, nurturing warmth. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation--and, potentially, something adventurous. "I wonder if we could lift each other. That'd be beautiful."
The image in her head was one of utter grace and artistry. It would be a miracle if they could pull it off, especially when relying on Citlal's arms--biceps, triceps, and extensor digitorum/carpi not always quite up to par. Still, there was a spark of feat and thrill behind the brown irises, and she beamed at Ari.
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Post by rapaolo on Jul 22, 2015 0:54:30 GMT -8
"Befriend the wall." The joke was on Praxiteles. Raffaele didn't like befriending most, and a bland, indifferent, and uncongenial wall topped with smudged Plexiglass was not high on his priority list.
The other responses were amiable enough--"If you need help, I'll be here" and "we won't laugh" and "if you fall, we will catch you." In those offhand remarks lay the reason for Raffaele's attendance in the first place. A fireplace could only do so much in terms of general heating--in terms of warming over a chilled core, the genuine warmth radiating from the five people before him (aside from the Spartan, he thought with amusement) were superior. His face was unreadable as he looked out at them--but at least he thought it.
"Thank you," he told Ori and Al before they left to skate. "I appreciate it." That left him with Praxiteles and his wisecrack, and the small knight that Raffaele had grown to, for all his distance, respect greatly. He inclined his head to her as she moved away, silently appreciative of her general fervency for protection. "I trust you will," he responded, no hints of irony to taint the simple phrase.
That left him with Praxiteles and his own apprehension. Quite the pair.
He bent again to feign fussing over his skates, although he didn't actually undo the strings. He adjusted the flap at the front, tugged at the sides, and shifted the way his pants squeezed into the shoes (frowning at the way the shoes would wrinkle the hems), and finally decided he'd done enough fussing. Any more and they would likely be well-aware of his procrastination. He inhaled, put his palms against the bench, and slowly rose to his feet, stiffly calculating his chance of falling every step of the way up.
... There. He was standing. That was... something.
He cast a glance over at the last remaining member of their group--the one who'd given him dry-witted advice. His eyebrows quirked with the faintest hint of a reaction, eyes hooded with a general amusement, and he shook his head. "Of course. Can't damage the face." With that, he took several halting, awkward steps towards the rink, his entire body stiff and controlled and horridly ungraceful. The metal blades were strange. He barely paused next to Citlal and Ari at the edge of the rink and instead stepped onto the ice with grim resignation to his fate.
Befriend the wall. Ridiculous. Raff could feel his dignity sliding away as he begrudgingly did so, shuffling awkwardly along the side while his feet traitorously wobbled beneath him.
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Post by littletiare on Jul 22, 2015 16:23:42 GMT -8
Moving felt good--even better when the momentum of her body propelled her along the ice, allowing for the cold to lessen from an annoyance to a nice, cool feeling; the heat generated in her core and trapped by her layers of clothing was also a great help in allowing her to enjoy the cold more, and she was thankful for it.
Oriata glided along, body turning with the gradual curve of the side of the rink, before bending her knees lower and leaning on one foot, thoroughly skidding to a stop as she watched Citlal launch herself into the air. Her breath stopped for a moment, until a light laugh began to bubble in her throat and slip out as the smaller woman landed successfully. She clapped, letting out a excited yell, “That was great!”
As Citlal skated by and bowed to her, she laughed again and bent herself low, copying her. Her hair tumbled forward in waves, sweeping down closer towards the ice, before she straightened up again. “Ms. Citlalicue,” she called back sweetly, before waving her off when she glided away to go greet Al.
She turned to start skating again before noticing Arielle embark out onto the ice, and waved a hand to her before Citlal claimed her attention. Raffaele came out shortly after, and she could see he was...definitely having a bit of trouble already. Holding onto the wall, shuffling, and wobbling? The poor man was going to either fall or be stuck in one place for an hour.
Pushing off and gliding forward, she skated over towards Raffaele slowly, keeping her momentum low enough that she could skid to a stop once close enough. “You’ve gotta keep your knees bent. Weight forward, chin up, arms out.” She gestured towards each part she mentioned as she pointed them out. “Don’t think about falling.”
She looked away for a moment, glancing back over to the off-ice part of the rink where Praxiteles was before waving her arm, trying to call him over. Sitting out there with his ice skates on was like sitting on the beach with flippers; 100% of the preparation but 0% of the enjoyment.
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Post by ChurroChariots on Jul 26, 2015 0:49:07 GMT -8
Skating was relaxing; once you got the hang of it and your body got used to the muscles required to move and spin and stop, you didn’t have to concentrate so hard on what you were doing. It could’ve been compared to regular skating, riding a bike, or jogging. All of them used muscles in the leg, and the body eventually got used to the routine needed and the stored the information on it on a more subconscious level.
But then, there were the muscles and active action required to fling someone in the air; a whirl of hair and limbs and laughter in an upward arc before landing back on the ice. Citlal was the one who knew the most about the body in their group, and if he was surprised that she could hurl herself into the air and back down with just as much grace as she did everything else, his face didn’t show it.
Instead, he laughed. Raffaele, whose caution and observance he was more than used to by this point, had been more concerned about his ability to stand, and likely wouldn’t have ever thought of trying to do what Citlal just did. But Citlal, full of life and adventure and laughter, launched herself--quite literally--into skating.
Alcaeus watched as she curved along the ice, moving fluidly around Oriata before gliding towards him. He smiled a little, bowing slightly as he returned her compliment, "Same to you, dear. Radiant as always."
As she glided away, he noticed she was headed towards Arielle who, despite him being unsure of whether or not she’d ever skated before, looked as unwavering as always; as if the only way she was going to fall was if someone else dragged her down with them.
Nearby Arielle and Citlal, Oriata seemed to be trying to help Raffaele, who...was doing just about as well as he'd thought he'd do. Maybe better, since he was standing up at the moment. But he was trying, and that was the important part.
To think, however, that if they hadn't all been friends, some of them wouldn't have ever given ice skating a try. Sure, they were bound to mess up at first, and for some people the embarrassment made trying harder, but they were exposing themselves to a new opportunity. Friendship could certainly be a catalyst for gaining new experiences, and if this eventually turned out to be a good one for the ones who hadn't tried or had much luck skating before, then all the better for them. Their friendship made outings like this more fun, and he was glad they'd agreed to come.
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Post by username on Jul 28, 2015 11:41:23 GMT -8
Stalling wasn't a good tactic. Sound, maybe -- it got you nowhere, and the act of not moving prevented any potential misadventures. But sitting around and twiddling your thumbs while the others went and did things only served as a tantamount to cowardice... and this was undesirable, if not outright detestable. Besides -- Oriata waving over to him meant that his hesitation had been noticed. Praxiteles made a resolve to stand.
And stand he did, shoving apprehension to the side. Mostly. Upright, slowly shifting his weight from foot to foot to make sure the skates wouldn't give out, he was struck by a realization that he'd probably had the last time he'd gone ice skating.
He severely disliked the sensation of being parted from the ground.
Sacrificing some amount of free will and coordination to be able to glide effortlessly around the ice sounded like a good trade-off. In theory. It was a different thing entirely in practice; especially for those who wouldn't be able to glide around effortlessly in the first place.
The ground was stable. Steadfast. Supportive. He could take on anything (almost anything, at any rate, but it was easier and morale-boosting to say "anything at all") with two feet rooted to the ground.
These ice skates were decidedly not the ground. They made his footing unsure, and the slip-and-slide nature of the ice would probably make that unsure footing even less ideal. The separation between self and stability was not a pleasant feeling, and he knew there was no point being put off by it -- if the others could get used to it, then by the Gods, so could he -- but he was put off all the same. It didn't feel right to put so much faith in two pieces of metal attached to an encumbering pair of shoes.
Faith was for gods (to an extent) and fellow apprentices (also to an extent). And the ground. And if the ground wasn't available, then the wall, smudged Plexiglas or not, would have to serve as a replacement.
Standing was a feat in itself, but it was little accomplishment out on the ice-free ground. No -- the true test would come as soon as he set foot on the ice. Staggering across the still-trustworthy ground was a warm-up -- and proof of how maladjusted he was to the situation -- but after a few seconds of plodding to the mouth of the rink, Prax managed to transition to the frozen ground with little to no incident.
None at all, in fact. It was almost miraculous (it certainly felt that way, at least), and in the few moments he had to marvel at it, he did. And then he was stuck taking his own advice; he let pride be forsaken in favor of common sense and kept to the wall, slowly shuffling and using the wall to drag himself along the side of the rink. It was a slow process (irksomely slow, to him), but he would eventually, hopefully, make it to Ori and Raffaele. At the very least. Shuffling along miserably was boring, perhaps, but practical. So very practical. Hello, smudged Plexiglas.
His gaze was pulled towards the others; one could only keep staring at the immediate expanse of ice or the numerous smudges for so long. Citlal had been making loops and turns that looked utterly dangerous, and was now beaming at Arielle in a manner that suggested something was about to happen. The sounds of voices carried over the ice, but not much coherency accompanied them across the way. Just cheerful, distant words. And maybe, maybe, the word lift.
Well. They all made it look rather easy. If they were talking about a lift, they'd probably pull off whatever they attempted with elegance. Meanwhile, here he was, slowly slinking along the outer edge of the rink.
Mildly, unfairly resentful, he stopped for a moment. And then he got an idea. A stupid, determined one. He was going to leave the wall (some part of him -- common sense, most likely -- was wailing about what a terrible idea this was). He'd see how far he could make it without clinging to support like a child.
"Of course," Raffaele had said. "Can't damage the face."
Well, Raff and his pretty, delicate face could cling to the wall. This was too slow, too droll, too mundane -- he would get nowhere if he was inclined to be content with just this small amount of progress. Nowhere at all. And so the decision had been made, and to his credit, he only regretted it a few seconds too late -- after he'd swept any lingering doubt under the rug and pushed away from the side of the rink.
By some miracle he remained standing. Thank Tyche for that. But he had no idea of how was was supposed to keep moving. One foot forward? No -- that didn't even sound right. How was one supposed to go forward at a decent pace while also keeping their center of balance? Or their footing? Or their dignity?
He froze, much like the water beneath him, standing a little over a foot away from the side of the rink, with little idea of what to do or where to go.
Should have stuck to the wall. Should have befriended it. σκατά.
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