Not Poetic My ASS JOCIA - Tumblr Posts

💬 (for anyone >:])

People always called Jocia rough around the edges. Tough, rude even.

Eh, maybe she was.

So the raised brows and curious glances weren't exactly abnormal when she got on the ice. She could tell the strangers and even familiar faces didn't think someone like her was suited for something as 'elegant' as figure skating. Half the time she didn't have to assume, they would question her outright.

She thought they were stupid for judging her, so she never cared...much. Some part of her couldn't necessarily blame them, given her reputation at school. Always getting into trouble. She rolled her eyes at the thought.

Blades were still blades. Even if they were just on her skates... or somethin' or other, she wasn't poetic. Was it really so far out there?

"JOCIA!" Coach called from outside the rink, voice laced with irritation as always. The teen had simply learned to get used to it, "WHERE'S YOUR PARTNER?"

"Zack's not here today. He's sick," Jocia responded bluntly, snapped out of her train of thought. She narrowed her eyes in her coaches' direction. The girl dug the pick of her skate into the ice, quickly coming to a stop where her coach stood on the other side of the glass. The others continued their warm-ups behind her.

He swore under his breath, turning his head away from her as to avoid eye contact. Avoid her entirely. She was the only one he did that with. He learned very quickly not to barrage her with bullshit. She was NOT afraid to yell back, and she had very quickly become the other student's shield. It was just figure skating, dude. Fucking relax.

As he went to direct his anger to his more obedient students, Jocia began skating again with a steady rhythm. Bastard always excused it as 'tough love' or some shit, so did the parents, but Jocia knew that excused nothing.

Besides, she always put a lot of effort in to make sure he didn't sour her limited time here or anyone elses.

'It was JUST figure skating' was kinda hypocritical coming from her of all people...

She took a breath, feeling the cool air whisp past her face and brush her hair out of her eyes with a gentle touch, calming any bubbling fire that roared under the surface due to her coaches frequent outbursts. This was comfort to her. No one could get under her skin here, no matter how hard they tried. The hot and cold always cancelled each other out.

The words of everyone around her, the white noise, everything became obsolete compared to the sounds of her blade cutting into the ice beneath her. The teen picked up speed.

And at that moment it felt like she was flying.

Nothing else existed or mattered.

If that was flying, then when she did her first lutz, she soared.

Three revolutions in the air during the jump, cold whipping past her yet guiding her every move to the tiniest detail. From her toes to the very tips of her fingers.

Sure, maybe a blade was still a blade. A weapon. A tool made to cut or dig. She had never been the picture of grace,

But something so brutal could still create something beautiful.

A dance of fire and ice. An equilibrium.

Was it really so far out there that something like this was made for someone just like her?

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