( shauna flies at her with such a force that nat gets some distance while she falls to the ground, doing a graceless half second stumble before landing uncoordinated in the dirt, with a stick poking her ass. her expression switches from shock, to pain, to temporarily stunned speechless at shauna's audacity. shauna fucking shipman. nat gestures at her in a way that can only be described as angry italian. )
You ran into me!
( bitch, she just barely bites off, because if leadership hasn't tamed her, it's at least taught her to choose her battles. freak she barely bites off, because the call would be coming from inside the house. psycho she bites off because — well, poking at shauna is like poking at a bear, except she's quicker, more precise, and with fewer weak spots. name calling = not a good idea.
instead, she just grits her teeth and glares momentarily, tension thick between them. outright aggression isn't that rare from shauna, but nat is trying to place it — is this an attack? a warning? the snap of a twig sounds off in the middle distance, and nat whips her head in that direction, ears honed in from months of hunting, as if she's been preparing for this moment forever. when she looks back to shauna, it's with a little amusement, before she scrambles up and starts running in that direction, two midfielders chasing after the same ball.
shauna being here turns the game into a competition. and there's no drug half as addictive as nat's competitive streak. )
no subject
You ran into me!
( bitch, she just barely bites off, because if leadership hasn't tamed her, it's at least taught her to choose her battles. freak she barely bites off, because the call would be coming from inside the house. psycho she bites off because — well, poking at shauna is like poking at a bear, except she's quicker, more precise, and with fewer weak spots. name calling = not a good idea.
instead, she just grits her teeth and glares momentarily, tension thick between them. outright aggression isn't that rare from shauna, but nat is trying to place it — is this an attack? a warning? the snap of a twig sounds off in the middle distance, and nat whips her head in that direction, ears honed in from months of hunting, as if she's been preparing for this moment forever. when she looks back to shauna, it's with a little amusement, before she scrambles up and starts running in that direction, two midfielders chasing after the same ball.
shauna being here turns the game into a competition. and there's no drug half as addictive as nat's competitive streak. )
Better catch up, Shipman!