rukhgate | 01 ★

[One hundred and sixty six. One hundred and sixty seven. One hundred and sixty eight. The rhythmic tip-tap of shoes against the cobbled floor barely echoed among the noise of the courtyard of birds--sometimes students, too--overhead, and those calling to one another. Germany's rope slapped against the floor occasionally as she skipped for the past hour. Her uniform was abandoned not far, discarded after-hours for ease of practice.

Her back was starting to ache, however. She'd never felt the strain of her figure before arriving her. Now her back ached liberally with exerted effort. If anything was an incentive to get out of here and where she belonged, getting rid of back ache was a good one as any.]

One hundred and seventy. One hundred and seventy one. [She muttered to herself, resisting the urge to wipe her damp fringe off her forehead. Perhaps she could get two hours out of this before figuring out what to do about food for the evening.

The thought was just about distracting her from those who stared as she exercised.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You're not the first to call me that, dear, and I highly doubt you'll be the last. Besides, every twat who has ever mocked me has been put in her place at one time or another by me, so it goes to show.

We'll see about that when we get out of here. As for now, it may be more productive to stick together.

[Hm. So probably bad relations in Germany's time as well. Damn.] I suppose so. A cooperative truce, for the moment.

01 ★

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