The gym bustled with activity. This was to Madeleine's liking. Crowds were a source of energy, partly because of their noise—the grunts, the pounding feet, the crashing iron—but mostly because of their eyes. She enjoyed the sensation of their eyes needling her body with curiosity, desire, and jealousy. It was why she wore a version of her ring gear rather than gym clothes.
Her foot slammed against the bag. For a lightning of an instant, her leg was fully extended, snapped at the end of a whip, a fouette. Sweat gleamed like oil on her bare thigh, taut and thick. Then she bounced backwards, springy on her feet as a hare.
Mobility was the soul of Savate. Mobility and distance management. This meant that her routines at the bag focused as much on footwork as on the explosive strikes. There were only three main strikes she practiced. The snap-kick fouette, the piston-kick chasse, and the spinning revers. The way she delivered each kick, however, the position, the step in and duck out,
that was where Savate practitioners found variety, which is to say, art.
Yes, Madeleine enjoyed the attention while her golden hair and red skirt spun and bounced and she kicked and ducked and kneed her unfortunate pig-skin of an opponent. But at the same time, she also was not
so self-enamored as to miss the other opportunity that the gym afforded—namely, the opportunity to look
out. To see her future opponents. To notice their training. To admire, to draw inspiration. To, without ever ogling anyone, make herself aware of the beautiful and talented people with whom she shared LAW's facilities.
Guess they wanted me to show off what I do
But I couldn't care any less to show you
Cause though I'm a hare, I've got nothing to prove
Though I'm a hare, I've got nothing to prove
--Madilyn Mei
Roster
Discord: feel free to add _malkavia.
