Post by Frida Feldt on Mar 27, 2012 21:06:56 GMT 1
It was cold. Lonely, lonely, Frida stood alone on the soccer field, determined to overcome her weakness and learn to play. She hadn’t been able to plan her lessons with Haruka and Olivia yet, which was a real shame. But she couldn’t just sit there waiting, driven to inaction by her lack of a tutor. No, Frida exercised often. And this time the halfling had remembered to bring her inhaler. The purple breathing device was tucked away in the pocket of her thin, black, sports pants. She could feel the light wait and the awkward lump against her thigh, comforting her.
Her hair had been tied into a horsetail for the occasion. She hadn’t bothered to straighten it. Why would she when it would only get messed up again? Her top was white, made out of the same sporty material as her pants. She didn’t know what it was called. Frida was a smart girl but her knowledge in relation to sports was minimal at best. Her shoes were sturdy, made for running. She’d done her makeup with bright purple and red around her eyes, and electric blue eyeliner. It was the only part of her that betrayed her true taste in style.
Frida did not know how to play soccer. She’d never been taught the rules. She had a medical note from her doctor that allowed her to sit out of physical education, so she was often sent walking around the track while the rest of the students played their games. It was not an easy circumstance for her, but it was preferable to letting the other students see her have an asthma attack. Frida did not like others to see her weaknesses. Haruka, however, already had. That made her an ideal tutor. Olivia’s presence would help ease the pressure, turn it into a social thing by adding an extra set of feet rather than a serious one on one sort of deal.
There was one thing that Frida did know. Kick the ball into the net. That was how you scored. Frida lined up the ball and then backed up. She paused long enough to analyze what she was about to do, and then ran up and kicked. She watched as the soccer ball flew too far to the left, missing the goal. Frida frowned. Why had the ball turned that drastically? How hard could it be to kick the thing straight?
Her hair had been tied into a horsetail for the occasion. She hadn’t bothered to straighten it. Why would she when it would only get messed up again? Her top was white, made out of the same sporty material as her pants. She didn’t know what it was called. Frida was a smart girl but her knowledge in relation to sports was minimal at best. Her shoes were sturdy, made for running. She’d done her makeup with bright purple and red around her eyes, and electric blue eyeliner. It was the only part of her that betrayed her true taste in style.
Frida did not know how to play soccer. She’d never been taught the rules. She had a medical note from her doctor that allowed her to sit out of physical education, so she was often sent walking around the track while the rest of the students played their games. It was not an easy circumstance for her, but it was preferable to letting the other students see her have an asthma attack. Frida did not like others to see her weaknesses. Haruka, however, already had. That made her an ideal tutor. Olivia’s presence would help ease the pressure, turn it into a social thing by adding an extra set of feet rather than a serious one on one sort of deal.
There was one thing that Frida did know. Kick the ball into the net. That was how you scored. Frida lined up the ball and then backed up. She paused long enough to analyze what she was about to do, and then ran up and kicked. She watched as the soccer ball flew too far to the left, missing the goal. Frida frowned. Why had the ball turned that drastically? How hard could it be to kick the thing straight?
