Sunny Stress Relief

[Ambrose Wilder]

Ambrose had to train. He was seriously in no mood to do much else. This mood would pass, of course. Actually given maybe five minutes he would be ready for a nap. Not because he was lethargic, although often times that was the case. No, he would want a nap because if he sat there trying to calm himself down he was going to feel so drained after the fact that he’d need a nap. So instead of doing that, Amie sat up.

He had on his slacks and button down shirt. Good enough, he was completely alone in the woods, he had a plan. Much as he loathed getting dirty, he did like working up a sweat. The exception to the rule, but only if he could clean up afterwards. There was a fairly large stream nearby that he was sure he could wash up in. First all he needed was a good area to work out. He grabbed his bag and leaned it against a tree. Amie pulled out a towel and lay it over the bag. He’d need something to lay on besides the dirt if he wanted to avoid getting dirty again after cleaning up. Amie went looking for such a thing.

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[Ambrose Wilder]

“Hah!” Amie exclaimed when he noticed a large rock. It wasn’t quite big enough but it was a large surface to start. He crouched down and lifted, hoisting the rock up and then headed back near the stream. “This will do… almost…” he said, examining the rock as if it were his handwork instead of just something he’d found. He walked off, taking a good five minutes before he found another suitable rock. This one was larger, heavier, and much farther away. He’d worked up a good amount of swear before he made it back to his little station. Once he’d placed the large rock down he wiped a layer of sweat off.

“Better take this off, it’ll get pretty gross,” he said as he unbuttoned his shirt. He dropped it near his bag, planning to wash it regardless of its current condition. He lay the towel over the two rocks, making a sort of two point bed. It would be uncomfortable for most people, but Amie was fine with the strange angles. What he wasn’t fine with was his arm. He looked down at his arm as he had dropped his shirt, and he saw the scar running down the length. A reminder of his current anger flooded back and he sent a fist into the tree, hearing the crack of skin to wood before looking up to see the singe marks. Of course… losing his temper was just starting. He needed to rein it in, but that didn’t mean he actually planned to.

[Words: 461/1000]

[Ambrose Wilder]

His fist throbbed but the pain dulled before he even moved away from the tree. He was angry. He had a lot of anger in him, and a disturbingly violent streak to boot. It wasn’t a good combination, an angry man and two very powerful fists. He couldn’t consider himself a young many anymore, he was twenty-five and fully grown. That was why his temper was usually under control. Usually didn’t mean always. His blood started pumping and it threatened to break out of the recently bandaged wounds. Of course he shouldn’t push himself, but… he wanted to. When he got to thinking about these things he just wanted to move. He wanted to do exactly what he’d been prevented from doing when he was younger.

Amie made a fast leap at another tree, using only his good leg. He was angry, but not completely out of his mind. He knew he couldn’t strain that leg. The momentum, a quick powerup, and a new spell he was trying to master, combined to crack the tree in half. Normally he would have joked about that, or laughed, or looked around and started whistling as if he hadn’t done a thing wrong. Today he was just angry. He worried he’d scare people when he got this angry, so it was best to work out all the anger now, while he was alone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d scared himself. Maybe it should have been when he beat those bandit’s faces in, but no. That was par for the course with Amie. He would never kill them, he hated death, but he hated them all the same.

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[Ambrose Wilder]

Amie kept jumping around and just pounding into things. He found out that he could see the waves of magic around his fists when he got worked up enough. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign, but he just kept going. He was working hard so that he could constantly have some sort of magical punch at his disposal. He only stopped when the sweat was dripping off of him and he could hardly see. Wiping his arm over his eyes did little to help, but he had a good grasp of the surrounding area.

Amie wandered back to the stream, just walking right in. His clothes were as drenched in sweat at he was, so the lot of them needed washed. He pulled his wife-beater off and found several more rocks in the stream. He used one to clean off a long stick. He lay that stick between to trees and tossed his shirt over it. He washed all his clothes and left them to hang there and dry. When he got out he changed into a pair of clean shorts and lay on his towel. It wasn’t the most comfortable situation, of course. Still, he had two points of pressure, so he just squirmed around a bit and lay there. When he was alone his scars weren’t as big a deal. If he’d had company, it would have been an entirely separate issue.

Oh well, he thought with a yawn. He closed his eyes against the warm sun, and ruffled his hair to get it to dry sooner. “Now I get to nap,” he mumbled as he managed to sleep, like a cat, in one of the least comfortable positions.

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