An M4A1 assault rifle? Nope.
… A decent knife? President Nope of Nopetown sends his regards.
Royals were so… boring. ‘Careful now, Uly. You’re a royal too’ she inwardly chided herself, absently adjusting the fitting leggings and tank top she’d requested. They were a touch ill-fitting and, given the looks she’d received when retrieving them, she was debating whether they’d be worth the hassle. She’d go insane if she spent another moment teaching herself how to eat properly.
The small gym she’d found at the rear of the castle was neat and well-maintained, the equipment holding that definitive sheen if disuse… far from the worn bars and rusty metal she was used to in the military gyms. ‘Guess it’s up to me to break this puppy in’ she mused to herself as she sized up afront a hanging punching bag, absently adjusting the protective bandaging across her knuckles along with the headphones on her head. With a tap, ‘Hey Look Ma, I made it!’ by Panic at the Disco began echoing into her ears.
It did not take long before the familiar burn in her muscles returned, greeting her as an old friend. Left, left, right, under, right. She cycled through a standard set of punches over and over until sweat began to bead across her forehead, plastering the few rebellious strands of brunette that had escaped her ponytail to her forehead. Each strike venting the frustration she felt at the recent weeks. She was not a royal and every day she spent telling herself otherwise only mounted a growing pressure in her chest.
Johnathan’s face flashed behind her eyelids, gaze disapproving. ‘I’m not you, big brother… that isn’t me.’ Her strikes increased in ferocity, the bag rocking with each strike. As the chain above rattled and shook, she found herself growing more and more on edge. Usually, the bag dissolved her of her anger and annoyance, but today… she couldn’t beat submission from her problems.
“Ah, fuck!” Uly hissed, pain lancing through her left hand and wrist as her blow glanced and tore at her knuckles. Crimson began to blossom over the white fabric as Uly watched, chest heaving.
‘Enough.’ Uly thought, beginning to unwrap her hands as she made for the door, making it out into the hallway before accidentally shouldering into a mess of blonde curls and cloudy blue eyes. “Fuck, sorry…” She said before wincing, realising she looked anything but royal. Covered in sweat and bleeding, she looked more like some ‘commoner’ as the other royals might say. “I was distracted. My bad entirely.” she muttered as she tugged off her headphones, draping them lazily around her neck.
Holly was convinced that by far the worst part of being in Athens was simply the fact that she could not escape her parent’s phone calls. For once, they knew exactly where she was, and if they weren’t sure what she was doing, there were more than enough people who were willing to tell them what she was doing. In fact, she was nearly certain that some of the servants were their spies, although she might just be getting more paranoid.
Which was why she was now wandering the castle, searching for a spot that was a little more secluded than normal. Normally, she wanted to be the center of attention. She wanted everyone looking at her, because she deserved it. Right now though, she just wanted a little bit of quiet and time to sort out her feelings. She wanted to not have to talk to anyone.
And yet, here was someone, quite literally running into her, stinking of sweat and with what looked like bloody cloth in her hands, and Holly wrinkled her nose. “Ew. What in the world did you do to yourself?”
