OPEN | see, the thing is,

[poleaxed]

WHO: jone poleaxed & YOU.
WHAT: It's time to play tennis, whether you want to or not.
WHEN: Mid-late Cloudreach.
WHERE: Gallows, training grounds.
NOTES: Currently G-rated tennis, will update if this changes.

If you're one to keep track of things, you may have noticed the Gallows were relatively Jone free for the past few weeks. Frequently seen at the training grounds with varying levels of volume, at six feet Jone is hard to miss, for all meanings of the word.

And now, she is back.

You might notice her early in the day, when she's (a) stringing a bit of waist-high netting across a corner of the training yard. There are some rackets on an unused crate, along with some balls.

"Oi, help me with this, would you." She waves you over.

Or you might be caught, when the game is rolling. Of course, it's not really a game with no opponents. (b) You hear a shout, possibly a warning, and a ball comes soaring toward you. Do you catch it? Throw it back?

Or are you hit? Oops.

(c) Of course, there are polite options, like when the six foot woman hands you a racket out of the blue, shoving it into your hands if you're not amenable. "C'mon, agility training."

(wildcard) Or perhaps it's something else entirely.

Comments

b

[truthtied]

Diana's arm shoots up out of instinct when movement flashes in the corner of her eye. She blinks when a ball bounces off her bracelet. Again when she catches the ball and catches sight of Jone.

"This is a strange set up for target practice," she calls, tossing the ball back towards Jone.

[poleaxed]

Jone catches the ball with practiced ease. "They not have games where you're from, luv?"

[truthtied]

Ah. Well now that she says that, Diana can see.

"I'm sure I've heard of such things," she says, approaching the net, "This looks like... tennis?" She's aware of the sport in her world, though equally surprised to see it here.

[poleaxed]

Jone's heard it called that. She nods. "Just a game. Might teach some of these pricks to be a bit more fleet footed."

She shoots Diana a look. "Present company excluded."

[truthtied]

"It is the fate of pricks to be terrorized by flying balls." Said with the mildest of innocence before a smile curves the corners of her mouth again, "I'm honored to have met your expectations."