Chapter Text
Shayera Hol climb up the tall ladder. She hated the ladder. It made her feel like a child, how scared she was. It was embarrassing. And stupid. She hated the ladder.
At the top of the ladder, there was a hanging pole. She was fine on the hanging pole, swinging around on two limbs, sometimes one, and even none occasionally as she flipped mid-air. So of course, you could see why Shayera might find climbing up a ladder with all four of her limbs embarrassing.
When she got to the top, her fear melted away. She leaped, grasping the hanging pole with ease, as she had a million times before. And she began swinging and flipping. Shayera loved it.
The feel of wind rushing past her face as she spun, the way her orange hair, which was in a ponytail flew out behind her, the way the storm and the sounds of the busy city outside was drowned out... Everything. Up there, she could almost pretend she was flying.
"Watch yourself on that double flip, Shayera. It's dangerous, and you didn't even have a spotter." She let go of the pole, landing in perfect form only a few feet from the man standing below the pole, his muscled arms crossed.
"Hello, to you too," she replied drily, accepting the towel he held out to her. "I'm serious, beautiful." Hro intoned, because apparently, that's what coaches called their athletes.
Shayera didn't mind it too much. Hroman Talak, or Hro as he was called wasn't even half a decade older than her, and he was nice. His face, only a few shades darker than hers, (which was golden brown) looked at her with a face full of adoration. She offered a shy smile in return. Dating him wouldn't be bad, she supposed.
And he had kissed her before. It was definitely a kiss, alright. She didn't have much to say about it.
But.. In the books she read, the main female character always described her kisses with the powerful, muscular, seven-foot-tall male love interest as "magical, with sparks travelling up her body." Shayera's kiss with Hro had felt like having a part of her body touch a part of his body.
Nothing special. Then again, maybe she shouldn't use the 5-foot-tall pale "warrior" in "fighting leathers" as a guide. Her love life was nothing like Dahlia Maplewoodson's was, and that was 100% a good thing. So.. why did she feel.. Unfulfilled ?
She needed to fly, clear her head. She cast her eyes to the ladder. She hated the ladder.