Hello!
My name is Vivia, short for vivacious--meaning lively and spirited. I guess that you could say that the name fits me.
I am a newish member of the Spartan training program, in which a take part in a number of things. These include wrestling, running, boxing, and gymnastics (my favorite).
I have red hair, freckles, and brown eyes. I have arms and legs like strings of spaghetti, and a torso not much thicker. All in all, I’m a skimpy, smiley girl that most o the adults and kids find too chatty.
My very best friend, Meg (meaning tomboy), is the complete and total opposite of me. She’s kinda dark and likes to wrestle. She doesn’t exactly paint the picture of a stay-at-home mom living with way to many children. That, by the way, is what us Spartan women are supposed to become from the moment we are induced to merry at age twenty to the day we die.
Now, that might seem a little unfair, that we have to train from seven to twenty and from there, have a bunch of kids for her husband, but you should take a look at how the Athenian women have to live. They can’t go outdoors, are forced to merry at age fourteen or fifteen, and can’t go to any household celebrations. There job, too, is to bare many children to their husbands.
I am not, of course, saying that I think that the Spartan lifestyle is fair.
Both me and Meg hate the fact that we will have to merry and bare many strong babies. An we both wish that our lives were different. But, hey, I can feel a little bit more advantageously when we look at the Athenian women.
Anyway, right now I’m talking about the present. And in the present, I’m doing one of my least favorite things; wrestling.
My opponent is Spitfire, a nasty brute of a girl with well-muscled arms and legs and wild eyes that look as though they belong to a particularly nasty, charging boar. She has a single sining gold hoop earring that make her resemble a pirate. She isn’t the nicest of people, either, resulting to not many of the public liking her.
Now, mind you (as so that you don’t get to awestruck), Vivia is not all that good at wrestling. And Spitfire, well, she’s tied for the best at it.
And who is she tied with?
Well, none other then Meg and Gamine, two other very tough girls.
Vivia, on the other hand, was one of the worst at wrestling. And that is one of the biggest understatements I’ve ever made.
Okay, so back to the story.
Spitfire and Vivia had just engaged. Vivia, who was quite good at gymnastics, leapt onto Spitfire’s back and used this leverage to do a summersault off of the larger girl’s back and land lightly on her feet behind Spitfire.
At first, Spitfire merely blinked in surprise. Then she bellowed in rage and blindly flung herself at the little redhead standing behind her. Vivia, who was throughly enjoying herself, twisted herself in an unreally flexible way. Into a perfect ring. Around the revoltingly pudgy arm of Spitfire.
In repulsed awe, Spitfire pulled her arm away. Instantly, Vivia broke the circle she had made and landed with a perfect floor roll.
Spitfire did not appreciate the wonderful gymnastic moves being executed before her very eyes. Instead, she growled in a low, menacing rumble and launched herself at the small girl leaping about her massive thighs.
This time, Vivia unfurled her ribbon that she used to practice her ribbon dancing and rand around Spitfire, tangling the rope-like ribbon around the large girl’s legs. When Spitfire attempted to pounce on the “small, annoying redhead”, she fell flat on her face.
Abut, to no avail, for this merriment, unfortunately, did not last. Spitfire shrieked in rage and kicked off her bounds. She then promptly sat on poor Vivia.
Vivia wriggled a bit, but she had already been aquatinted with defeat, and knew it well. For, this was the longest she had ever lasted in wrestling, and all that had bought her time was her gymnastic skills.
Once Vivia was off of the ring, Spitfire grunting obligingly behind her to the people giving her encouraging slaps on her sweaty back, she immediately started searching through the crowds for Meg.
“Meg!” Vivia called, cupping her hands over her mouth to amplify the sound. “Meg! Where are you?”
“Vivia?” a voice called back from the far left of the crowds. “Is that you, Vivia?”
“Meg!” Vivia cried gleefully, parting her way through chatty masses of girls.
And the two friends found each other, pushing their way through the people until they met in a joyful embrace.
“Vivia, you did so well in the match!” Meg said with an encouraging smile playing on her lips. Then she broke into a laugh, “Spitfire never knew what hit her!”
“Yeah,” Vivia said with a smile. “I bet you could beat her faster then she could blink, though! You’re awesome, Meg.” Meg was kind of like Vivia’s idol, her role model.
Meg rolled her eyes, cheeks rosy red and an embarrassed smile on her face. “Yeah, right,” she said sarcastically.
“Well, you’d better,” Vivia said with a teasing smile, “because you’re up next!”
Meg gave her an evil look and melted into the shadows.
“Bye,” Vivia murmured with a wave.
Was it her imagination or did she hear someone reply? “Farewell,” it whispered, horse and cracked.
-KittyLover8
© 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment