( ;;&& -- cxledonia )
She done everything she had to, putting well over two hundred percent into it all. She ate right, ran until her legs wouldn't let her go anything further, and she trained. By god, did she trained. Nat had been up since five thirty that morning, leaving the other in bed as she dressed in a simple sports bra, boxing shorts and a tank top, grabbing her duffel bag and heading for the gym. When there, others knew not to disturb the fighter. She kicked until until her shins aches, punches until her knuckles were raw, even with the protection of hand wraps and fighting gloves. A thin layer of sweat covered her inked skin, stained parts of her tank stop, obvious signs of how violently she trained. Nat didn't even think of returning until about ten am. Even after that, Nat pulled her hood up, bag over her shoulder, earphone in and she ran home, no matter how sore she got. Once back in her apart which cost god knows how much, Nat dropped her bag and pulled off her hoody, throwing it into the laundry. With no shame and even ounce of body confidence, the other pulled of her tank, kicked off her shorts as she headed for the bathroom, having a quick shower, exiting with wet hair and in a towel, heading out into the open plan scenery of the apartment, only to spot the other body, a sigh leaving Nat’s lips. “Did I wake you?” She asked although it was obvious that she wasn’t up for much conversation, but with Callie -- that girl always had something to say.
