gave it 110% | elly & anaya
Since the day Elly had talked to that one trainer (Donovan?) and half-heartedly expressed some of her frustrations, training had become nothing more than a daily routine in apathy. She arrived on time for the most part (although when she was late, it was with a predictably dry apology and little explanation), and completed the tasks assigned with mechanical mindlessness and levels of effort that were tepid at best.
Mostly, she tried to keep her brain from screaming that it was a waste of fucking time. After all, it had shown to have some benefits---she could move normally again, her limbs mostly obeyed when she wanted to do something like lift a bunch of books or clamber over a chair. She wasn’t technically skeletal anymore, even had a little bit of muscle which wasn't so much a source of pride as it was a weird surprise. It looked strange and unfamiliar on her arms and legs when she got changed into her workout clothes---she'd gone from emaciated to unremarkably person-shaped, if a little on the thin side still.
With her additional memories of the Wastes restored, she could appreciate the fact that if someone were chasing her, she could probably run away, -ish.
So, not utterly pointless, but still... Mostly.
But strangely, it’d also become one of the more social parts of her day. The aching need to get through it without her mind growing dark and sullen meant that if one of her acquaintances was in the same group as her, she'd be much more likely to strike up a conversation than normal.
This morning, however, there were no familiar faces. It was going to be... a long week, then.
She made it through the stretches while her mind hummed tunelessly, filling her with anxious static that only underlined and put in italics the boredom she needed to prepare herself for in the coming days. Staring out across the training rink, the browned winter grasses still sheathed in morning frost, she heard someone count out the stretches and only moved her body enough to mimic the stances as everyone changes from one to the next. The bare minimum---whatever would be required to not stick out, not draw attention, just get through the next hour.
It was when her group gathered to start doing laps that she found herself dawdling. The trainer called to her, urging her to catch up, and she nodded.
"Yeah, be there in a minute. Just gotta... do something." The excuse would be that she needed a drink of water, or to retie her shoe, maybe. It didn't really matter, as long as she looked like she was doing something, so she wandered over the bench to scoop up her water bottle and watched the other group for a minute. The physical therapy group, her old one, but with all new faces. Not that Elly had much noticed who else was in the 'you're barely surviving' gym class when she'd been in it---that point of time had been consumed by a blur of pain and loneliness. She waited and watched them idly until they finished up---their workouts being much shorter, but no less painful, if she could trust her memory on that. Right as Elly began contemplating the potential fallout of simply walking out, a petite brunette limped over towards the bench she occupied.
"You alright?" she asked, brow creasing, but her concern was mostly for show. Maybe if she made the excuse of taking this woman to the infirmary, she could skip out on at least a bit of her training session without getting in too much trouble.
@anayadolmen
