"If you're thinking I'm gonna just fucking sit here and contemplate the ephemerality of the wind or some shit, you can think again, bitch!"

Samira "Sammy" Collins lifted her empty left hand, currently bereft of any decoration except for one small silver bracelet, and punched a steel pole holding up a wind turbine next to her. It's not the hardest punch she's ever thrown. She's got enough sense left in her to know that if she hit a five foot thick piece of wind turbine generator steel with the hardest punch she has, she'd break three fingers. And girl, she doesn't feel like dealing with that shit tonight.

No, instead, she punches just hard enough to put a light dent in the metal and make her fingers hurt with pain shooting up her arm. Yeah, like that, like you gotta feel it. Enough to know it was a real punch. 

She shudders as the pain passes through her, and punches it again. It makes a good ringing sound, nice and deep and solid. Her jean vest flares out, showing off her electric lime t-shirt that cuts off at the belly-button. She should be cold, but she's been working too hard to feel the wind that way. Instead, the wind is good. The wind is power, it's motion, it's life passing over her body as she punches. Wishing she could draw it into herself and save some for later like these turbines. 

"Wow, seriously, I'm wishing I'm a fucking wind turbine? This is your fault, Machia! You hear me! It's your fucking fault!" 

She stops, pulls her phone out of her jeans pocket with the aching hand. Looks at the messages. Puts it back away. Fuck'em. She'd get matched against who she got matched against. The rest didn't matter. She wasn't sure what did matter anymore. Feeling this pole mattered. 

She'd be here till she got too cold and tired to feel anything at all. And then she'd collapse somewhere with a cheap bed and wake up the next morning to eat the cheapest shitty hotel pancakes on the face of the earth like they were god's gift to humanity. and then...then she was going to find Titanomachia. She was going to find her and make her change her mind. Yeah. That was the ticket. Her finger hovered over the phone again, looking at Machia's public page, reading every word of her announcement again and again. Why? Why why why?!

The sound of the pole echoed into the night. [i]kthunk. kthunk. kthunk.[/i]