Detachment.<br/><br/>The class continued, the teacher droning on and the ever "diligent" students working.<br/><br/>Separation.<br/><br/>Nothing was really learned when the motions became memorized.<br/><br/>But then, something different... Anger. Adrenaline. Resentment.<br/><br/>Her actions, the one who called herself Sirra's actions... Drake felt as if he was performing them himself. His limbs shook as his muscles tightened, his vision tinted red as his blood roared through his ears.<br/><br/>Then it was over. Sirra was done, the instructor unfazed. Drake knew, Drake was SURE he would have fazed the instructor. It was hard to remain unfazed when you are laying on the floor... Eyes bulging as hands clasp around your neck... breath leaving your body as your vision clouds... Thumbs searching...finding your eyes.... pushing... pushing...<br/><br/>Drake blinked. His visions cleared and the bell had rung. It wasn't time for such actions, he knew that. The class was filtering out to the common rooms, chatting among themselves. Drake ignored them as he maneuvered through the small crowd, tablet an after thought in his hand. As usual he secluded himself as best he could, laying stomach down on the floor tablet near by, and beginning to push himself up with his fists, knuckles pressing into the unyielding floor as he did fifty push ups. At fifty he flipped to his back, using his abdominal muscles to pull his body up to his bent knees and letting himself slowly drop back to the floor again. His routine usually lasted until they were all called elsewhere, but this time something unscheduled happened. They took Sirra, they took the only one who had actually acted out against the instructors, albeit stupidly. Drake stopped mid sit up, wrapping his arms around his knees as he watched the guards drag her off.<br/><br/>Interesting.