in my head / for @jaeyongdx
the air in the training room smells faintly of sweat, mixed with a static hum — the whole room feels sterile, as if someone has scrubbed all signs of life out of it. even after five years as a guardian, the room still feels like an affront to her senses. it’s too cold, too artificial, too bright, in the wrong way. the hum of the fluorescent lights makes the brightness of the room feel too sharp, too artificial — nothing like natural sunlight.
five years in, she still hasn’t managed to find beauty in this room. and she doesn’t think she ever will.
she’s made a lot of progress in the past five years, though she can’t rid herself of the feeling that it’s not enough. that she should be doing more than what she’s capable of. sometimes it feels like however much she trains, her physical combat capabilities will never be enough.
(and she can’t help but think that, in the end, it probably doesn’t matter as much as she thinks it does. it’s not like, once promoted, she’s likely to have to see physical combat often, if ever. the guardians at the top don’t swing punches, they smile for the cameras. zyra sometimes thinks they’re like flowers on display in glass cases — something pretty to be admired, but not useful.)
having jaeyong to spar with for the past couple of years has helped. he’s better than her, by a landslide, though that doesn’t bother zyra. she’s just thankful he’s willing to help her improve.
that’s not to say it doesn’t get frustrating at times. zyra isn’t sure how long they’ve been at it this time, but it’s long enough for sweat making strands of hair cling to her forehead, and an air of frustration surrounding her.
jaeyong’s rhythm outpaces hers — his steps are more measured, more confident, while zyra can’t help but hesitate, nearly stumbling over her own caution. she moves to dodge, but his movements are faster, and she finds her wrist pinned in his grip for what’s probably the tenth time already this session.
zyra exhales sharply, frustration catching in her throat. her body never quite seems to be able to catch up to her mind, never fast enough. she allows herself a moment to relax, freeing her hand from the younger’s grip and taking a step back, as she lets out a huff of air.
“i never seem to get good enough at this, do i?” there’s an attempt at a smile, though jaeyong should know her well enough by now to see right through it. another sigh. “not that it matters in the end, anyway,” she mumbles, gaze flickering away from her sparring partner, towards the floor.