Post by irria on Aug 20, 2009 23:48:08 GMT -5
Boots clicked on the floor as Irria walked across the mess hall. A few spots at the tables in the hall were occupied. Men laughed loudly at war stories and other defeats they accomplished. A few groups of women were also scattered in the room. Their conversations a lot lighter in volume as the spoke in whispers to each other.
Irria eased her form on to a bench away from any groups. She slipped her legs over the bench and to the other side. Her arms rested on the table, folded. One hand held a glass of water. She sipped at it, her eyes wandering around the groups surrounding her. She pursed her lips at the lack of her own conversation, but it was for the best. The angel knew she would have to live the comforts of the building and embrace the heat of the desert sun. She still had more work to do.
Irria had spent the morning training a young female angel. She had talent with weapons and moving with an unnatural grace to dodge and pursue attacks. However, she had a nasty mouth on her. Irria learned to correct her quickly when she spewed her cocky comments. The girl would be going home with new bruises for sure. She was unsure if the girl would continue with the attitude. Irria would find out tomorrow if she needed to be rougher with the girl in order for her to get the idea. Irria was in charge not some bratty pubescent angel.
She sipped her drink angrily. The thought set off fine little anger receptors in her head. The cool water ran down her throat and calmed her irritated nerves. She continued to hold the glass in her right hand. She twirled the liquid around in the glass, watching the liquid lick the sides of the glass. She sighed and with a reluctant realization, she tossed back the rest of the water.
Setting the glass on the table, Irria slid her legs from under the table and on to the opposite side. She brought herself to her feet with a gentle push off the palms of her hands. She turned briefly to grab the glass of water. Slowly, she made her way towards the entrance and exit for the mess hall.
Irria eased her form on to a bench away from any groups. She slipped her legs over the bench and to the other side. Her arms rested on the table, folded. One hand held a glass of water. She sipped at it, her eyes wandering around the groups surrounding her. She pursed her lips at the lack of her own conversation, but it was for the best. The angel knew she would have to live the comforts of the building and embrace the heat of the desert sun. She still had more work to do.
Irria had spent the morning training a young female angel. She had talent with weapons and moving with an unnatural grace to dodge and pursue attacks. However, she had a nasty mouth on her. Irria learned to correct her quickly when she spewed her cocky comments. The girl would be going home with new bruises for sure. She was unsure if the girl would continue with the attitude. Irria would find out tomorrow if she needed to be rougher with the girl in order for her to get the idea. Irria was in charge not some bratty pubescent angel.
She sipped her drink angrily. The thought set off fine little anger receptors in her head. The cool water ran down her throat and calmed her irritated nerves. She continued to hold the glass in her right hand. She twirled the liquid around in the glass, watching the liquid lick the sides of the glass. She sighed and with a reluctant realization, she tossed back the rest of the water.
Setting the glass on the table, Irria slid her legs from under the table and on to the opposite side. She brought herself to her feet with a gentle push off the palms of her hands. She turned briefly to grab the glass of water. Slowly, she made her way towards the entrance and exit for the mess hall.