Room 506, Sunday Afternoon
Nov. 8th, 2015 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soniaroadsqueenRingo had been using the weekends for longer, more aggressive runs around Baltimore, or the warehouses on island. This weekend she'd been working on a series of pretty intricate rooftop-to-rooftop spinning flip transitions, and she'd come down at just the wrong angle. Not quite enough to sprain her ankle, but it was definitely sore.
Injuries were just a fact of live with AirTrek, but she hadn't made a simple mistake like that in years. Not on a landing. The fact that she'd made one now suggested one thing: she was out of Tune. Badly out of Tune. Which made sense, really. She hadn't actually Tuned since she got to the island. That was, wow, almost six months. Six months. Ringo hadn't gone more than a couple of weeks without tuning since, well, basically since she could remember.
So after she'd limped back to the dorms and taken a shower, she'd headed back to her room. It had taken her fifteen minutes of digging around in the back of her closet to turn up the box she was looking for, still taped shut. It was actually kind of embarrassing, considering how she sort of talked down to some of the people she'd introduced to AirTrek. Acting all superior, and she hadn't Tuned in six months? Hadn't even talked about Tuning with anyone else? What a joke.
After spending a few minutes brooding, Ringo shook off her frustration and got down to business. She opened the box, carefully pulling out a bunch of complex wires and electronics. Half an hour later she was stripped down to her underwear, electrodes stuck all over her body running into a gray box sitting on her bed. She sat, legs folded beneath her, eyes closed, with a pair of huge headphones on. Her breathing was slow and easy as she centered herself. Then she began to hum, not especially loudly, but clearly audible, long steady tones, shifting the pitch with every breath.
Finding her sound. Finding her rhythm. Tuning.
[ooc: Door cracked, post open.]
Injuries were just a fact of live with AirTrek, but she hadn't made a simple mistake like that in years. Not on a landing. The fact that she'd made one now suggested one thing: she was out of Tune. Badly out of Tune. Which made sense, really. She hadn't actually Tuned since she got to the island. That was, wow, almost six months. Six months. Ringo hadn't gone more than a couple of weeks without tuning since, well, basically since she could remember.
So after she'd limped back to the dorms and taken a shower, she'd headed back to her room. It had taken her fifteen minutes of digging around in the back of her closet to turn up the box she was looking for, still taped shut. It was actually kind of embarrassing, considering how she sort of talked down to some of the people she'd introduced to AirTrek. Acting all superior, and she hadn't Tuned in six months? Hadn't even talked about Tuning with anyone else? What a joke.
After spending a few minutes brooding, Ringo shook off her frustration and got down to business. She opened the box, carefully pulling out a bunch of complex wires and electronics. Half an hour later she was stripped down to her underwear, electrodes stuck all over her body running into a gray box sitting on her bed. She sat, legs folded beneath her, eyes closed, with a pair of huge headphones on. Her breathing was slow and easy as she centered herself. Then she began to hum, not especially loudly, but clearly audible, long steady tones, shifting the pitch with every breath.
Finding her sound. Finding her rhythm. Tuning.
[ooc: Door cracked, post open.]
