TRAINING. [ open ]
Having been sent back home so suddenly definitely had an impact on the way she made things work. Mutants looked down upon, ennemies made, secrets kept and workings disrupted. Training was notched down to a minimum -- Barely once a week or twice if they’d been lucky enough to catch a break for once. But other than that, things went their way and the flow was restored. Of course, Grandma’s passing wasn’t easy on the whole family and times hit difficult but it was pushed aside like it would be. Hard when activities were nothing short of boring back home but -- It worked. The level of excitement that came with news of being sent back to school ( Someone excited for school? ) reached its maximum and soon the eldest Hawthorne found herself stuck to a seat, listening to the rumble of the plane’s engine vibrate through her seat.
Fingers danced along the air, mouvements exaggerated and not at all limited. Little clay blobs bounced along the ground, morphing into little figurines that ran along blindly. Merging. Seperating. Soft smile curved along lips as amber optics fixated themselves on the clay in deep concentration. Nothing big. Certainly not something she would have done before having left -- But getting used to the feel was more than enough to satisfy the urge of having held back the one thing that differentiated herself from the rest. Clay manipulation. Was it a big deal to most? Probably not but the amount of training dedicated to making it something would say otherwise. Attention had yet to shift over to the sound of footsteps that tapped against the cold ground, head not turning to check who it’d been. If they were to make themselves known -- Then maybe Nala would take the time to check.
