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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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Sandra had maybe said something. Maybe. If nobody heard the sound, did it exist? Did that classic didactic device even apply when Sandra had the obvious ability to hear herself say things? Flashpoint thoughts that evaporated as fast as they came, shunted aside by the thrill of adrenaline gouging deep into her grey matter.

Sandra's one-upping Irene however was perceived in slow motion. With each addendum to the laundry list of executed tricks Irene's heart fluttered, feeling the visceral joy of indulging in the power and skill of another. Sure she should have been feeling nervous, feeling the visceral pressure to perform against her long standing rival. From head to toe. Knees should have been weak, arms should have been heavy. But Irene only felt proud of the girl who'd been her mentor for over a year now, for the beauty and grace displayed by an expert in her craft-

Nope, fail.

"Nice one!" Smug retort flew out of Irene's gaping mouth as she neatly swerved around the grind rail and past Sandra's fallen form. "What happened to doing it or whatever you were- whoa!" Irene's vernacular was as neatly clipped as her board was by a step she had been cruising towards. Sans awareness- typical- Irene was also felled, toppling forward. Reflex born of many years of taking unwanted tumbles kicked in and she was able to pull a front roll out of her ass at the last second. A maneuver she managed to bunk up anyways when her elbow gave out, leading her to take a break fall directly to the back.

"Ouch! Fuck this gay Earth!" A strong and offensive sentiment to match the pain Irene acutely suffered in her spine, feeling like it was a step short of fragmenting into bits. Irene lay, stirred feebly. "... Kay. We both ignore. Deal?" She feebly murmured, probably not even loud enough for Sandra to hear. While her recovery from 'RIP' to 'critical condition' seemed fast it took something of an eternity, as far as Irene was concerned.

V6 - Like you imagined when you... were young...
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