[center][color=FireBrick][h1]Oshea Jackson[/h1][/color][/center]
[center][img]http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/marveldatabase/images/6/62/Everett_Thomas_%28Earth-616%29_004.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/166?cb=20070412113055[/img][/center]
[center]"This waitin' got me real impatient."[/center]
Time: Night
Location: Xavier's Institute Courtyard
[hr]
Oshea sat in his room with an arm tucked behind his bald head. To his right on a makeshift clothes hangar was his X Men suit; orange hued sun toasted the side of his caramel face as he [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxNdSDraYOU]nodded his head[/url] alongside the music blaring in his earphones. He was half asleep when the sun was beginning to set. Soon, most people were going to be asleep within the walls of the mansion; tonight he would see if all his recovery and training was to pay off.

Night fell, Oshea dressed in his X-suit. He stepped outside and embraced the rigid cold; chills ran down his spine from the crown of his head--Oshea figured he should have worn a beanie. He began: at first it was a slow jog, a pace his body had gotten used to. Slowly, he sped up his pace, there was some semblance of pain still coursing through his shin, but it was bearable--he gritted his teeth and attempted to soldier on. Oshea's speed increased: 20, 30, 40, 50, 55, 60, 75, 80, 90, 100! He was nowhere near his top speed, but Oshea figured given a few more days his leg would be in good enough shape to sustain heavier loads and persistent speeds for a longer time.

In truth, Oshea was tired of waiting and tired of sitting around. The running helped ease his mind, as it always did. Add to this escalating sense of angst his recent spurt of sleepless nights and Oshea had begun to feel weary and bored all the same. All of this expectation was making him [i]giddy.[/i] Yet, Oshea was too fearful of what might become of this newfound burst of manic excitement; he took a seat on one of the benches next to the water fountain and gazed a the stars. In his mind, he made up his own constellations--his right index finger acted as his pencil as he stitched his imaginary markings in the stars: one, a wolf with bared fangs; then a girl's face with a perked smile. Hmmm? It was then he got an idea--he jogged back to his room in his excitement and pulled out his canvas paper and got to work.