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1Perseverance (stamina training) Empty Perseverance (stamina training) on Mon Aug 08, 2016 12:33 pm



It was just one of those spur-of-the-moment things.

After having done his assignment of delivering information, having finished his meeting with and as a middleman, Rookwood was left with some personal time. It wasn't an uncommon thing; the majority of Revolutionary Army's movement was done with secrecy and patience. The culmination of these various actions was the part that the public was most concerned about, so it was an easy thing to forget. Rookwood certainly had. But he had to admit that slow and deliberate was the sensible way of doings things, the correct way, despite of its unpleasant nature. Only a fool would say otherwise.

The first past-time that one can think in Ohara is to immerse oneself in all of the knowledge the island offers, and Rookwood was no different. The day, however, offered itself as another alternative. The sun on a cloudless sky, small wind to cool one down just enough and seemingly creating the only waves found by the shore... it was a darn beautiful day, something not to be wasted on on old books and small lectures; the perfect time to work on the soundness of the body rather than the mind. And Rookwood had just the idea.

Ohara was a fairly sparsely populated island, with lots of small forests and, more importantly, shores. Swimming around the shore and stopping on a few didn't seem like a bad idea. Who knows? Maybe he could surprise himself and manage to swim around the whole lot. Imagine that.

The answer to the speculation became obvious soon after Rookwood had started his progress. He was forced rest far more often that he would have liked to, floating on water on his back and making sure that he didn't drift wherever. It wasn't that he felt tired or anything like that; his muscles just refused to keep up with him, demanding breaks and aching until Rookwood complied. This wasn't uncommon, and Rookwood figured it just to be the consequence of him being able to be as spry and active as he was; perfect functionality at the cost of flaws that resurface from time to time.
It was a minor setback, nothing to sulk about. He continued the cycle valiantly.

Rookwood felt like he had been at it for an hour or so before he came across something. As he floated on his back, he turned his head to his side and slowly made the realization that this part of the cliff was climbable. It wasn't any shorter in height, but its surface looked evenly uneven that finding a place for your hands and feet should be easy even for an inexperienced climber. And as extemporary was the word of the day, it didn't take Rookwood long to decide to give it a shot himself.

Rookwood wasn't a stranger to climbing. Climbing around the ship was completely normal, so was the more... improvised things that one had to do to evade something far more consequential than a simple fall. But this was a whole new kind of challenge. The good parts to grab were less distinct, and everyone so often the coarse wall would nick against one of his limbs. But Rookwood had a feeling that if he could do this, he could at least feel somewhat better about himself. And with one sweaty hand at a time, one slow horrible set of toes at a time, he climbed. And climbed. And clim


His body shook ever so slightly down as some of the rock beneath Rookwood's left foot gave in. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to lose his good position. He swore as he kept his eyes on the cliff above him. Four meters. The sun on his back was starting to get to him and his fingers kept aching, but he'd only have to last four meters to get up there, or fall. He'd have to get positioning straight and start going through the motions before his strength ran out, but it should be doable. Rookwood had a few seconds to calm his wheezing breath before he acted on his decision.

Rookwood's released their grip, pushing against the rock to get his body as far as possible from the wall. His body twisted around as he made sure that he body was right, upright and arms wide. The distance he had laboriously trekked was made in an instance as he dived back into ocean.
Rookwood was relieved to confirm that he had estimated the depth correctly. He swam to the surface.

The old man was forced to gaze upon the cliffside once more. And to his surprise he didn't feel that bad, if you don't count the saltwater entering his cuts. Nature wasn't an enemy to feel anger towards. You didn't compete against nature; you just used resources available to you to endure anything it would throw at you. Rookwood couldn't help but just feel glad towards the fact that he knew how to use his.
He turned his head towards the way he came, feeling that he'd be lucky if he even got out of the bed in the morning.

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