Coby (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chore_boy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-02-24 01:22 pm
chore_boy) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-02-24 01:22 pm
Training & Studying [OPEN]
Date & Time: Feb 21st - 24th
Location: Training Hall, Library
Characters: Coby & YOU
Summary: Nothing fancy! This will follow Coby's regular training and studying regiments, something he's going to be repeating indefinitely for the next ... forever.
Warnings: None expected.
Early in the morning, Coby woke up and left his empty apartment, content to rush to work a handful of hours in one of the local delis, putting in as much time as he could without sparing the expense of time he knew was best spent physically active. Working as a butcher didn't seem to help his sense of pride in being a Captain, but pride wasn't something that paid well enough for him to maintain rent, food and clothing. Free food tended to help, too.
He would work from Six to Ten every morning, diligently maintaining his allotment of travel time so he could arrive at the training halls on time to help anyone if at all possible. He spent the first two hours doing light training and doling out advice even if it annoyed someone--it was in his nature to want to be helpful even at the expense of being hit once or twice. When noon approached, he would separate himself and train alone for a number of hours--never exceeding eight of it. He would do simple stance and posture exercises, dead-lifting and a cyclical arena of stretching, punching and kicking until he felt his muscles tense up. Not once during his training would he seek out water or food. Starvation training was all a part of it.
Coby would leave around nine or ten o'clock and posit himself in the library, digging up a number of books he had checked out and sitting with them he began what seemed like the arduous process of logging tiny pieces of information from them in his notebooks. In reality, reaching the library on a daily basis seemed to be an immense reward to him and as he ate small and rationed pieces of fruit and meat with what seemed to be a prisoner's allotment of water, Coby tried his best to study as much as he could before the need to sleep would take him back home. It was his routine as a soldier.
(OOC: Feel free to toss times & dates in here via the subject header! Action or prose is fine.)
Location: Training Hall, Library
Characters: Coby & YOU
Summary: Nothing fancy! This will follow Coby's regular training and studying regiments, something he's going to be repeating indefinitely for the next ... forever.
Warnings: None expected.
Early in the morning, Coby woke up and left his empty apartment, content to rush to work a handful of hours in one of the local delis, putting in as much time as he could without sparing the expense of time he knew was best spent physically active. Working as a butcher didn't seem to help his sense of pride in being a Captain, but pride wasn't something that paid well enough for him to maintain rent, food and clothing. Free food tended to help, too.
He would work from Six to Ten every morning, diligently maintaining his allotment of travel time so he could arrive at the training halls on time to help anyone if at all possible. He spent the first two hours doing light training and doling out advice even if it annoyed someone--it was in his nature to want to be helpful even at the expense of being hit once or twice. When noon approached, he would separate himself and train alone for a number of hours--never exceeding eight of it. He would do simple stance and posture exercises, dead-lifting and a cyclical arena of stretching, punching and kicking until he felt his muscles tense up. Not once during his training would he seek out water or food. Starvation training was all a part of it.
Coby would leave around nine or ten o'clock and posit himself in the library, digging up a number of books he had checked out and sitting with them he began what seemed like the arduous process of logging tiny pieces of information from them in his notebooks. In reality, reaching the library on a daily basis seemed to be an immense reward to him and as he ate small and rationed pieces of fruit and meat with what seemed to be a prisoner's allotment of water, Coby tried his best to study as much as he could before the need to sleep would take him back home. It was his routine as a soldier.
(OOC: Feel free to toss times & dates in here via the subject header! Action or prose is fine.)
no subject
"You got other fruits like that?"
no subject
"Actually, there are countless Devil Fruits. Supposedly, only one person can have one ability in their lifetime and only one living person can have that ability until they die--then, that ability will become a fruit once more. They're very diverse things, though. I could name a few abilities for you, though that would hardly describe their variation."
no subject
It probably does.
He nods, to show that he comprehended it.
no subject
Gesturing widely, Coby looked a little bothered--not immensely, more so on the annoyed side of the spectrum. He had fought with plenty of Devil Fruit users before. Ones whose powers still surprised him to that day, "When one gets powers like that, it goes straight to their heads in most cases. They think they're absolutely above reproach and justice. I can't stand people like that."
no subject
Power did that to people. Keith thought about the man that smuggled money from the Family; he was dead now, perhaps turning into fish bait by now. Then he thinks about the bastard that came in and shot some of his his men because Luck and Berga picked him out of their office. He was an annoying small fry, and a coward who only came back because he had a body that wouldn't die. He was at the bottom of the Hudson now.
"There are always men like that."
no subject
He frowned inwardly, saying it only because he started. He didn't want to believe in it.
"If your world is nicer in that regard."
no subject
That being said, Keith finally puts down the book he took from Coby's pile and clears a part of the desk directly between them, placing one of his hands down there.
... Really, it's no big deal is it? He and his brothers and the Martillo Family didn't go around showing off what their bodies could do, but that was because if enemies knew and they got careless, the fear factor of the dead coming back to life would fade, and it could get used against them. They could still feel pain, after all. But Coby was a Marine. He was not a gangster and he was not an enemy from New York. Hell they probably didn't even exist in the same time-space. It didn't matter. Silently, Keith fishes into his jacket's inside pocket for a knife he keeps on hand.
"Most guys don't know about it, that's all."