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sailboats wish that they were stars. Brendan...really isn’t as athletic as he’s convinced he is. Sure, he can pretty much do the splits now, and sure, through time he’s getting better and better with his kicks. But in his mind, he’s pretty darn sure he can take on anything that comes his way; if a badlander is to walk in the lodge right now, he’s super fricken confident that he can flying side kick them into oblivion and beyond.
Can he? Well...no, no he can’t.
However, that doesn’t matter to him; whether or not he’s a pro athlete, he’s still going to practice for a good chunk of his time. Heck, he can be found standing in the lodge’s cafeteria right at this moment, making sure he has enough space to train. Surveying the tables and chairs he moved out of the way (with some help he hasn’t asked for, of course), Brendan nods to himselfâ€â€yeah, this is good.
Bending downwards, Brendan props his hands onto the tiled floor, fingers pushing downward as his legs swing into the air; He stumbles for a few seconds, before finding the perfect balance. Remaining in the handstand for a bit, he attempts to move his legs around a little, before swaying once more and immediately shoving them back to where they were earlier. Once he’s done, he sends his legs downward, plopping them back onto the solid floor.
Let’s be real, handstands...aren’t part of his training at all, but they are fun to do nonetheless. Of course, now he has to do stretches, which actually are a part of his training.
Plomping down onto his butt, Brendan extends his legs outward, reaching forward and grabbing hold of his toesâ€â€easy. He knows he can do better. Sucking in a deep breath, he parts his legs, straightening them out into a splits position; Bending to one side, he stretches towards his left leg, hand reaching to grab hold of his toes. He can’t grab them just yet, but he really hopes to get there soon. Like, how cool would that be? He’d be pretty darn badass!
JUST STANDING WAITING FOR THE PUNCHES
Tomorrow isn't athletic; he's fit from so many years on the move, and certainly capable of defending himself on occasion, but he wouldn't call himself athletic. He's not good at stretching, his reflexes aren't the best, and he's overall much too soft to ever take an interest in those things; he might've had a interest in it once, but it'd been quickly discouraged. He'd needed time to learn other skills, not hone physical prowess. He may have taken a passing interest in yoga but... Well, he didn't want to think about the reason he'd stopped that.
Walking into the cafeteria - goodness, it was still a bit strange to him to eat in the presence of so many others - he saw many moved furniture and a young boy, stretching and attempting the splits. Tomorrow hovered in the doorway for a few moments, before regaining his nerve and walking inside. He pulled out a small journal, which he'd started keeping shortly after arriving in the lodge; after all, he no longer needed to worry about keeping the pages dry all the time.
Sitting down at one of the unmoved tables, he set down the book and tried to start writing, though his eyes kept glancing towards Brendan. It was difficult to focus when he kept thinking about how much he'd hurt himself doing those stretches.
'cus it don't make a difference anyway
tags - 26yrs - 6'1 - he/him - representative of fl
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☁ hayley was, much like tomorrow, in half decent shape from a life alone in the apocalypse. she'd fended for herself for the last two decades, and even after an accidental pregnancy and an exhausting labor, all of those years on her feet, fighting every day to stay alive and independent, it made it easy for her to bounce back. she cradled hope against her chest as she entered the cafeteria, the baby happily sucking away on a pacifier and dozing off, oblivious to every sound and movement around her. she was wrapped up like an itty-bitty pink burrito, still so small, too small for a baby that had been alive for two weeks already. two weeks alive didn't put a dent in being two months early.
❝always smart to stretch before a workout,❞ she said, dark eyes lingering on the boy before shifting to tomorrow as she approached his table, offering him a smile of silent greeting and taking a seat a few chairs down, ❝or is the stretching the workout?❞ she inquired, brow quirking. she didn't exactly see brendan as the type to do push-ups or anything of the sort, but then again, how well did she really know him?
❝do you know how to fight?❞ the question slipped out of her mouth as quickly as she thought of it, though she didn't regret asking. it would be good to know, and she figured it was something she probably should have asked sooner. ❝how to protect yourself, hold your own against someone?❞
JUST STANDING WAITING FOR THE PUNCHES
Tomorrow's eyes were caught by movement as Hayley entered the room, and he smiled softly in response to her greeting before his eyes were drawn once again to Brendan. His hand danced over the page, unintentionally writing down his thoughts as he observed.
He didn't react quickly to Hayley's question, his mind for the moment lulled and quiet; he blinked, fully comprehending the words a few seconds after she'd said them. He wasn't sure if it was aimed at him or Brendan, and it was easy for him to assume it was aimed at Brendan, though he didn't want to be rude by not responding if it was aimed at him... Goodness, he hadn't missed the panic of conversation.
"Not really." Tomorrow answered softly, eyes drawn back to Hayley. He noticed the bundle in her arms, and a warm smile tugged at the edges of his features; he'd always thought one day he'd be a parent, and he was happy that Hayley was able to experience that even if he most likely would never have a child of his own.
"My dogs usually protect me." He added after a moment; he hadn't been completely defenseless while on his own, and he did own that somewhat nice machete, though gods knew he wasn't the best at using it.
'cus it don't make a difference anyway
tags - 26yrs - 6'1 - he/him - representative of fl
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once upon a time, hayley had lived for being a spectator. there was something so thrilling to her as a teenager and an early twenty-something about seeing drama unfold, generally among strangers, when she wasn't involved in it. did she enjoy her own drama? no. she generally preferred to float through life without a care or confrontation to be seen. but there was something terribly thrilling about seeing it start up among others. so, when brendan turned on tomorrow, the brunette's first thought was that this would be a juicy show.
and then she remembered, oh yeah, i'm the leader. she was sort of supposed to stop this kind of shit.
❝hey,❞ she cut in immediately, lips now pressing into a frown, tone stern, a slight sampling of the mothering hope would have to endure in the future. ❝now isn't the time for infighting, brendan. the badlands are organizing, and for all we know, any day now they could be heading up the mountain to slaughter us like cattle. take an ally when you can get one, and that's what tomorrow is. remember who the enemy is.❞ if flintlockers couldn't trust flintlockers, then everything she'd been doing the last few months was pointless.
standing up, hope's head cradled in the crook of her elbow, she shook the newborn from side to side gently, nodding to brendan. ❝what kind of moves have you got?❞ she wanted to steer the conversation away from the crisis that had almost just unfolded, and it was pretty evident.
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