Rugby Pitch (Open.)

[Arlen]

Much to Arlen's pleasure this school had everything. An American Football pitch, rugby pitch, basketball courts, soccer pitch and a host more. Arlen found himself alone on the rugby pitch. Only the posts and a bag of rugby balls for company. The bleachers either side of the pitch were empty and Arlen took in a slow breath. The freshly cut grass of any type of sports pitch was one of his favourite smells. The school had a game coming up soon, a new season about to go under way and Arlen was the new player. He'd already earned the respect of the team through training he was strong in attack and deffence. The coach noted that Arlen's only weakness was his kicking game, for such an alround talented player his kicking was at best average.
Arlen took this on board and at this time everyday the giant student would head out to the rugby pitch to perfect his kicking game. Walking to the 30 meter line he opened the bag of rugby balls and spilled them out on the ground. Taking a single ball up in his hand he began to get a feel for it, spinning it around gently between his hands before his thumb found a seem. Prepairing himself for a drop goal Arlen took a step forward with his right foot, releasing the ball before him as he did so as the ball met the floor in the same instance his left leg would have driven through and his left foot would catch the ball on the impact and drive the rugby ball toward the waiting rugby sticks. Watching as the ball travelled through the air Arlen cursed to himself as the kick just shaved wide. Muttering a few words to himself he heded back to the balls on the floor, prepairing to do the same routine as before.

[August Velway]

OOC: Eight days? I'm sorry I didn't post to a thread like this sooner, since it evaded me. If you don't mind Arlen, I'll revive it.

IC: The warm aftermath of the school day was always a welcome event. The speed of running, driving, or biking students as they escaped the bounds of their High school, some to their apartments or homes, some to the city, others to the courts and fields of sports, music halls, or even the swimming pool. After all, even after the commitment to education was over, there would still be the commitment to school spirit and exercise still lurking.

But it wasn't always bad; most people loved their extracurricular activities. If August Velway had any, he'd love them too.

Maybe I should change that, the Junior-grade Aussie thought to himself, his jean-garbed legs leading him down a concrete sidewalk behind the school's main building, a simple white tee covering his chest, the usual bike boots clanking against the earth below. His brown eyes glanced and observed the scenes surrounding him, taking in the crack of aluminum bats against whining baseballs, the swish of basketballs through their hoops, the roars of football players as their armor clashed against one another, or the tap of tennis rackets as they flung birdies across their fences in the distance. The school's spirit in sports was impressive, that much was clear, and while most of them weren't in August's taste, he couldn't help but smirk at the determination, the ambition of each varying athlete. None of those listed were seen as "unfit" to be considered in the renown they had. In August Velway's eyes, anything could be a sport, so long as it brought out the passionate competitiveness in a human being.

Hence, that was why he found the smell of sweat on a teenage fighter to be so enthralling. That, he thought, was perhaps the greatest sport possible in the Corporal Punishment System, and that was no different in Hircine High.

Continuing his pass through the fields, August finally came across a sport that was, at the moment, not in session; it was the Rugby field, and surprisingly enough, the school's team was not out at practice yet - unless, of course, they had already completed their daily training, and the man now alone on the field remained to push himself further.

Whether he was waiting for his fellows, or simply remained behind for the day to try and push or improve his limits, August couldn't help but hold at least that respect toward him. To try and push someone's limits further was always a noble action.

Standing outside the field with his arms folded, August witnessed as the man would continue his training, however long he could go on before noticing him, kick after kick, wind slicing every few seconds, the stage giving August a moment to filter in a new experience.

Rugby... it's possible. I could see myself playing this, I've just got to learn first. And again, I'm not sure if I'm built for it.

Still, August anticipated the athlete - a strong stereotype for the image of a Rugby player, of course - to take notice of him, and perhaps finally confront him, but while it was probably wiser for August to break the silence himself before hand, he preferred not to. A bit of anxiety honestly held him quiet, and he was too busy watching the man practicing to even consider stopping him.

So he stayed silent, watching, waiting...