09-14-2025, 10:56 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-14-2025, 11:01 AM by Riley Wright.)
Riley’s running shoes pounded against the track, her breath coming steady as the cool afternoon breeze caught the loose strands of her hair. She had long since learned to turn underestimation into motivation. Her frame moved with wiry efficiency, each stride carrying her forward with purpose. Dressed in dark running tights and a fitted training top, she had rolled her sleeves high to keep cool, the faint scar on her forearm catching the light with each swing of her arm. A flicker of ink showed beneath the fabric, shifting with the motion of her stride.
Beside her, T’Varen kept pace effortlessly. The Vulcan cadet’s expression remained calm and measured, as though running laps were nothing more than a simple calculation to be solved. Clad in a simple gray top and shorts with lightweight trainers, she showed no sign of strain. Where Riley’s movements were fueled by determination and energy, T’Varen’s were precise and economical, every motion exact. Does she ever even sweat? Riley thought, half amused and half annoyed.
“You know,” Riley said between breaths, “you could at least pretend this is hard.”
The words came out between gulps of air, her tone laced with playful irritation. She leaned into the curve of the track, arms pumping harder as though the added effort alone might prove her point.
T’Varen arched an eyebrow, not breaking stride. “I find it more productive to conserve unnecessary exertion.”
Her voice was calm, unshaken, as though she were discussing the weather rather than keeping pace on a run. The steadiness only made Riley’s smirk deepen. Of course she’d say that.
“Spoken like someone who’s never had fun a day in her life,” she teased, stealing a glance at her friend as she pushed her pace.
Without missing a step, T’Varen replied, “On the contrary. I find efficiency to be quite enjoyable.”
The response was delivered so dryly that it nearly broke Riley’s rhythm. She let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she pressed harder into the next lap, unwilling to give her friend the satisfaction of thinking she’d rattled her. One day, I’m going to crack that calm exterior… and it’ll be glorious.
For a while, neither spoke. The only sound between them was the rhythm of their footfalls, perfectly in sync despite their contrasting styles. Riley thrived on the burn in her muscles, the sting of the air in her lungs, while T’Varen ran as though untouched by either. It was their balance — fire and calm, drive and control — and for Riley, there was no better training partner.
Beside her, T’Varen kept pace effortlessly. The Vulcan cadet’s expression remained calm and measured, as though running laps were nothing more than a simple calculation to be solved. Clad in a simple gray top and shorts with lightweight trainers, she showed no sign of strain. Where Riley’s movements were fueled by determination and energy, T’Varen’s were precise and economical, every motion exact. Does she ever even sweat? Riley thought, half amused and half annoyed.
“You know,” Riley said between breaths, “you could at least pretend this is hard.”
The words came out between gulps of air, her tone laced with playful irritation. She leaned into the curve of the track, arms pumping harder as though the added effort alone might prove her point.
T’Varen arched an eyebrow, not breaking stride. “I find it more productive to conserve unnecessary exertion.”
Her voice was calm, unshaken, as though she were discussing the weather rather than keeping pace on a run. The steadiness only made Riley’s smirk deepen. Of course she’d say that.
“Spoken like someone who’s never had fun a day in her life,” she teased, stealing a glance at her friend as she pushed her pace.
Without missing a step, T’Varen replied, “On the contrary. I find efficiency to be quite enjoyable.”
The response was delivered so dryly that it nearly broke Riley’s rhythm. She let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she pressed harder into the next lap, unwilling to give her friend the satisfaction of thinking she’d rattled her. One day, I’m going to crack that calm exterior… and it’ll be glorious.
For a while, neither spoke. The only sound between them was the rhythm of their footfalls, perfectly in sync despite their contrasting styles. Riley thrived on the burn in her muscles, the sting of the air in her lungs, while T’Varen ran as though untouched by either. It was their balance — fire and calm, drive and control — and for Riley, there was no better training partner.