Fateful Opportunities

The bag swung. Magma red eyes watched it intently as their owner ducked and dodged around each swing. Twin tails of black hair swirled around her as she kept moving around the bag. A strike or a trio of strikes were sent out on occasion to slam into the bag, never actually stopping it's swing. No one of them seemed like they would hurt too much. When the swinging was not sufficient, the woman would slide back far enough to send a powerful kick into the bag to give it all the momentum it needed. The woman was silent as she worked, only occasionally huffing to add effort into a kicking.

The woman wore red coveralls while training, like that of blue collar worker. In a way it was a representation of her humble roots, but it was also the most comfortable thing for her to wear when moving around. Plus, it added protection against scrapes and cuts when she fought in the ring.

With a subtle flourish, the Gym grew a little more sophisticated in the span of a moment.

And what moment was that? Why, the entrance of new competitor, it seemed. Only a few eyes bothered to cast a glance towards the slender, dark-haired woman as she stepped with intent onto the gym floor. An air of refinement seemed to follow even her silent steps, a certain pompous sway in her hips, a distinct uplift of her chin. Even though she wore simple gym clothes (a pair of fitted burgundy shorts and a black zippered workout bra), they were brand-name model, and together likely cost more than some of the workout machines themselves.

Eyes the color of the deepest part of the sea glanced about the gym, unimpressed, before she caught the eye of a diminutive crimson-eyed eastern girl, whom immediately went back to her punching bag training. Lynette contemplated this a moment, before setting her eyes on a pull-up bar alongside the wall. After doing a few stretches, she rubbed her hands together in preparation, and rolled her neck.

Time for a warm-up. First step in showing this place what I can do.

Magma orbs took note of comings and goings of the women around her. It wasn't a true mapping of the specific movements of each woman, that would have taken too much focus away from the bag. The point was to train her precision attacks rather than interact with the other women... but someone new had entered. A side step around the bag put her further away so that she could align a hard thrust kick to get the bag moving faster. Now it was time to see how much focus she could divide between the bag and the new girl.

Who was this new girl? She couldn't imagine the full cost of the clothing the woman wore, even from here... side slip, thumb knuckle strike and the bag was spinning away from her... the clothes looked more expensive than the sum of Lu Zhou Yi's entire wardrobe. This was not to say that she wore trashy... solid stance knife hand strike to throat level and the bag was knocked to the side... or second hand clothes, she simply wore clothes that were hardy and durable. Why was she trying to justify her wardrobe against this woman's... elbow strike to the oncoming bag, it was too close that time, and she missed her mark. Expensive tastes and money to support those tastes, that was the important bit of information. If she had money, what was she... side step open palm strike to the rib level... doing here?

With a little jump peppered with energy, Lynette's fingers found their way around the pull-up bar, seeming to find their perfect grip within moments, and with a steady, smooth rhythm, began to lift her chin above the bar with a confident ease that seemed almost uncanny. Upper body strength was far from her most lethal quality, but the european noblewoman had discovered some time ago that a girl's athletic form was only as strong as her weakest link, and therefore, all parts must be kept in braggable condition, must they not?

With each passing pull-up, Lynette could feel more eyes passing over her; she suspected it natural, for a myriad of possible reasons. It could have been as simple as the fact that she was new, or the fact that most of the other women were likely jealous of her. A little smirk crossed over her lips that was unmistakably french, as she entertained the notion of being more beautiful to these other fighters. But beauty didn't leave scars. And Lynette would.

Or perhaps she was just being sized up? The thought of her wardrobe didn't even cross her mind...after all, when your motto is "the worst I'll ever be is the best," why would you even consider something that works less for you?

27...28...29...30.

When she reached 30 pull-ups and she felt a vague burning in her arms, she eased herself down onto her toes, and gracefully released from the bar, before she turned back towards the rest of the gym to find her next work, simultaneously challenging all eyes that had drifted over her to stay on her. Lynette would not be bullied in this place. As most eyes turned away, a freshly-familiar pair of burning reds did not, and Lynette's deep blues countered them both in stare and color, as if two elements had met and had yet to decide on war. Lynette gave the tiny oriental lady a clear look-over this time, and admittedly felt a slight tickle of intrigue. Overalls? In a gymnasium? The girl seemed far too serious to be wearing them stupidly, so perhaps it was a training method, or had some other meaning.

Flashing another coy little smile, this time to the asian, Lynette strutted towards a more open part of that side of the gym, and selected an ab roller from the weight stand. Aware she was being watched, a little flip of her hair behind her ear followed before she slowly, almost sensually lowered herself to her hands and knees, and gripped the handles of the wheel. Then, with practiced precision, she extended herself forward on the wheel, held for a solid three seconds, and then slowly pulled herself back, biting her lower lip in concentration. If people were going to watch, she'd give them something to watch.

When blue eyes met red, Lady Yi would not avert her gaze to hide her attentiveness to the woman There was no need to hide her gaze, she meant no disrespect in sizing up the woman, nor were her thoughts shameful. With shift of her body she was out of the swinging alignment, and angled her body in a spinning back kick to stop the bag entirely. The historian was effective at shifting connection through her body so that her might was rarely based on what her physical body could muster but rather what her physical body could transfer from the ground. The spin also gave her good reason to break eye contact without appearing like she was shy. The new woman seemed to stop at twenty-eight pull ups... no, twenty-eight had no mathematical significance, thirty was likely and Yi had simply missed two of them to count. After all, she couldn't keep her eyes off the punching bag the whole time.

She held the position for a few pounds of her heart before pulling her leg back and thrusting it back into the bag to begin it's swing again. The woman was on the move, and Yi made certain to side step around the bag so that she could keep the bag in her sight as well as the woman stuck narrowly within her sight. Lady Yi's gaze lacked hostile intensity, but would reflect little more than just passive interest. The smile was recieved by a bit of surprise on Yi's mind, but it didn't show in her face, nor did it stop her from landing three strikes in rapid succession upon the bag. Yi's response to the smile may have been underwhelming, as not but the emotionless mask of her gaze was given back to the French lady.

Nor did she seem to partake in any lustful desire as she watched the new mysterious woman get into the ab roller and stretch out. Though there was special note taken that the duration of the... thrust kick to get the punching bag out of the way... abdominal stretch without muscle shaking exhaustion showing its way. From the closer vantage point, perhaps Lynette could see that the bag had a very small number of white dots no larger than a well trimmed pinky toe nail, and each of these dots had been well loved by every strike Yi had made to the bag. She wasn't just hitting a bag with strikes, she was hitting specific points of white showing up on a black bag.

Lynette had intentionally laid out her exercise with her front towards just to the left of where Yi was boxing her punching bag, and took slow, but flawless extensions of the roller wheel, each one pausing once her chin was impossibly close to the floor, before she reeled back, and rested for a few fleeting moments. Her concentration was on her exercise; she wouldn't give anyone in the gym the pleasure of believing they had earned enough of her attentions to distract her from her work-out. However, a few teasing stolen glances made their way to the chinese girl, those deep-ocean eyes intently returning to Yi's cautious smouldering ones.

It was a game, obviously. The french girl's attitude played aggressively, while the chinese lady's tactic seemed stoic. To what end, Lynette did not know nor particularly care about, but someone had clearly taken a moment of interest in her, so she would comply with her own charmingly imposing finesse.

Several more sets of her exercise continued, only a short third-of-a-minute rest between each dozen extension. Then, once finished, she rose up to her knees, delicately resting her hands on her thighs and leaning back onto her heels, and caught her breath. Again, the oriental was graciously granted a moment of her time and Lynette watched her continue her pursuit of that punching bag's defeat. Thin, perfectly crafted eyebrows rose as she picked up on the dots and precisely what Yi was strengthening, and after a moment's council in her head, deemed it an intriguing and possibly impressive way to practice.

Smirking, stretching her arms over her head, her tummy still burning from her wheeling, she fluttered a pair of long, dark eyelashes at Lu Zhou Yi, and looked directly to her amusedly.

"Impressed?" Her voice carried like a melody, a notable french accent silkily wrapped around the word. The inquiry was playful but strong, a sense of character establishment subtly crafted into the sudden move. She spoke in English...if the chinese girl spoke a familiar language, it'd likely be English, hmm?

French? Interesting, the accent lifted almost immediately from just the single word. "Your body is durable and lean," she complimented humbly, as her attention was now apparently full upon the woman. A shift of her body to the right was led by her right leg, though her left arm struck out to where she had been standing and caught the bag in one of those aforementioned white dots. "And your new, which leads me to wonder who you are," the bag came to a vibrating halt, though the gyrations of it reflected more of a rocking/swinging in place type motion.

For Yi, to demand the new girl introduce herself immediately seemed bad manners (and somehow much worse than just starring at her from afar), so she continued speaking before the new woman felt the need to fill the moment with her own introductions, "My name is Lu Zhou Yi, I am a fighter in the Friction league." She gave a shallow bow to the woman, not caring if others in the gym heard the precise and well practiced diction that she offered the French woman.

As the french woman watched this Lu Zhou Yo compliment her and then introduce herself in what happened to be the most textbook courtesy ever divised, the corners of her lips curved up into an effectively charmed smile. So her admirer had actually admitted to being impressed. That was gratifying enough to continue the conversation. Rising from her knees to step closer to her newest conversation partner, Lynette found herself towering over the girl, but kept an amiable disposition regardless.

"I am Lynette de Villiers, also in the Friction circuit. It is a pleasure to meet you, non?" Her words smacked with self-important satisfaction, as if warning Yi of what would assuredly be her dominance in the league, but despite her personable impression, Lynette stepped back, and bringing her ankles closer and pointing her toes outward, and gave the little chinese woman a customary cultural greeting, in the form of a bow of her own french nature. "You're exceptional at your own work, mon ami," she cooed, shifting her weight to one side and resting a hand saucily on her hip.

"I am new, perhaps, but ready to win." The statement was simple, promising, and confident, without being overtly domineering. Another little smile crossed her lips as she continued polite introductions. "It is a pleasure, Lu Zhou Yi. I pray that our paths are on compatible roads..."

The accent was noticeable, though the historian's ears were discerning. Definitely French, though now having heard so much come from the woman's mouth recognizing that she was French was no admirable feat, like someone claiming to see the sun in the sky on a clear day. She did not cower beneath the woman, though her posture did become more rigid as she neared. The historian felt naked without her feather fan while speaking with someone, but wouldn't let such discomfort show. There was a conversation to be had, "I appreciate your compliments," she spoke in regards to her work and again humbly bowed again. The shaking bag beside them seemed to be cowering to their combined presence until Yi's left hand absently reached over to stop its shaking. The thinly veiled threat that their roads had some hope of changing by prayer. Yi was convinced that even deepest of prayers could not do to even make the winds change.

"Few appreciate the level of precision I strive to attain," she added after rising from her bow... though her words were complimentary of Lynette, they were revealing of a league whose primary focus in fighting was the sloppy and over the top showy wrestling moves. "I think perhaps the fact that you can suggests our roads are parallel in some way," her face seemed to lack any reflection of emotion except the occasional show of humility. It was a practiced mask she wore both in and outside of the ring. Emotions led to the heart overpowering the mind which in itself was a poor decision. The fall or near fall of countless civilizations had been documented for exactly that reason.

"What do you know about Friction... besides that it is a place to test your skill against others?" she asked, though the curiosity in her voice was not reflected in her face or eyes as she watched the Lady de Villiers.

A deep aqua gaze watched Lu Yi throughout this introduction, and the french woman admitted (with some trepidation) that she liked the chinese woman. She was serious, to the point, efficient, and adorably, classically eastern. The fact that she kept bowing to the noblewoman was both cute and satisfactorily played to the taller one's trained ego. Lynette's ears perked upon hearing the curious mentioning of parallel roads, and noting it, crossed her arms over her chest, beautiful defiance incarnate.

"Friction?" Lynette toyed with the word as it departed from her lips, the 'r' pronounced especially deliciously.

"Politics are so contrived, ma soeur." The words rolled in her mouth like the lightest honey, and those piercing blues watched her new acquaintance with steady intrigue. "It is best to seize such things and force your whims upon them instead of playing by the rules of someone else's game, hm?"

Was she implying some coup d'etat? Or perhaps she was merely flaunting her ego? Either way, Lynette did not betray her secrets, which kept her tantalizingly enigmatic...the way she liked it.