| Banshee
Join Date: Dec 2008 Location: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Posts: 50,244
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Abraham Orlando Botros-Giordano
Gryffindor Third Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Aurelio Kolya Kaiser
Slytherin Seventh Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Alexei Dragomirov Petrov
Slytherin Fifth Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Typhon Ulysses Prince
Slytherin Seventh Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Achilles Alexander Zacharias
Ravenclaw Seventh Year  x12  x12
|  1 Lovely™ | Captain Hurted | Ariana's Bane | Resident Antagonist | Unparalleled Delight
Daxton was still pummelling the dummy, pinning it to the floor and punching every last inch of it he could reach, over and over and over again. Had this been an actual threat of a situation, and he been facing an actual attacker, Daxton might have completely lost himself in the moment, as he took out his barely latent (read: always present, occasionally visible) anger on the dummy. As it was, he was totally aware he was still in a classroom, surrounded by other students, surrounded by threats, but the noise of the room barely bothered him for once, and he just kept punching.
Until the whistle. The shrill, piercing blast of the whistle that seemed to penetrate his ear drums and offended his oh-so-sensitive hearing. At once, Daxton stopped, slamming his palms over his ears to block out the noise that was now ringing through his head, his face screwed up in an expression of pain. For a long moment, he did not uncover his ears for fear that the whistle would sound again. Breathing heavily after the thrill that had been beating the dummy quite literally into the ground, he looked around for the culprit and saw... of course. Hirsch.
Another glare came from Daxton, as locked eyes onto the stupid professor and his stupid whistle. The anger that had been drawn out by the first activity was now directed entirely at Hirsch, this time for the added reason that he felt the need to assault Daxton's ear drums. Daxton himself missed most of what the professor was now saying, what with his ears firmly covered (he absolutely expected the man to blow that whistle again) and being half caught up in a fantasy of going over there, taking the whistle and chucking it right out of the window or into the nearest fire. Then, predictably, there it was again - another blast of the whistle - and Daxton was able to hear it even though his hands were pressed against either side of his head with considerable force.
He had missed the instructions, but the addition to the board and the actions of everyone else in the room meant that it was not difficult to deduce exactly what they were doing now. Daxton continued scowling at Hirsch for a moment, then looked down at the dummy he still had pinned to the floor, as it had started to move again. Finally, he removed his hands from his ears and, just because he could, gave the dummy one last full force punch to its temple. He had just started the climb up off of it when, as an afterthought, Daxton peeled the nametag from the front of his shirt and slapped it on the back of the dummy's head. Then he stood, gave it a good hard kick right where its ribs would have been (without shoes or socks, it should have hurt, but Daxton felt nothing), and left it there on the floor. Before doing anything else, Daxton reached into his pocket and pulled out his ear muffs, and quickly put them on to block out the worst of any more unbearable sounds; now he was not in the midst of beating his dummy to a pulp, the noise of the room was noticeable. Too noticeable. Discomfort flooded back to the Ravenclaw and the tenseness returned to his muscles.
A new dummy. He needed to take down a new dummy. From the looks of it, they were supposed to be wearing protective clothing, too, but Daxton hung back for a little longer, though kept an eye out for any dummy that looked as though it was coming for him. The adrenaline started pumping again, fuelled by anxiety, feeding the desire to fight. |