If the top is his favorite, this pulls in a quick a second. Gravity and the crush of air, the way both take all his weight and propel him even harder forward. When Cath's care toward her steps has him distancing from her quickly. Going with gravity. Going with his weight.
Focusing only on where his feet land. How far into dirt or on what part of the wood paneling. The way everything is fast narrowing. Slamming each extra momentum and free fall seconds in to something he can use. Keep bouncing in, though, with. Hard step down, keep going. Fast, quick movements of knees, ankles, his hips. Keeping himself close and tight across his core.
Even the thought of falling is at the edges. Like falling from roof tops. It's not about slamming the ground. It's not about pain. It's not about falling. All that is far behind, if it was there at all even at the beginning. It's only plan. Roll, catch a step with a hand, knee, elbow. Dive or roll in the opposite directions of any groups if people, which could mean taking the mountain itself, instead of the stairs, over collateral damage.
It's about planning. Control. Inevitably. Intent.
He isn't going to fall. He never has. But he knows what he'll do if.
And that is enough to banish the consideration, focus, until its needed here.
Keep the slap of his shoes constant. Give into that reckless smile curving his mouth the faster he gets going, the more its about planting a landing and letting go into the next step. Letting gravity and weight control his movements, his descent, while only reigning in where and how long. Using it to his benefit, not holding back from it's uses.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-28 06:49 pm (UTC)Focusing only on where his feet land. How far into dirt or on what part of the wood paneling. The way everything is fast narrowing. Slamming each extra momentum and free fall seconds in to something he can use. Keep bouncing in, though, with. Hard step down, keep going. Fast, quick movements of knees, ankles, his hips. Keeping himself close and tight across his core.
Even the thought of falling is at the edges. Like falling from roof tops. It's not about slamming the ground. It's not about pain. It's not about falling. All that is far behind, if it was there at all even at the beginning. It's only plan. Roll, catch a step with a hand, knee, elbow. Dive or roll in the opposite directions of any groups if people, which could mean taking the mountain itself, instead of the stairs, over collateral damage.
It's about planning. Control. Inevitably. Intent.
He isn't going to fall. He never has. But he knows what he'll do if.
And that is enough to banish the consideration, focus, until its needed here.
Keep the slap of his shoes constant. Give into that reckless smile curving his mouth the faster he gets going, the more its about planting a landing and letting go into the next step. Letting gravity and weight control his movements, his descent, while only reigning in where and how long. Using it to his benefit, not holding back from it's uses.