Who: Sparx Larsa<br/>For: Open<br/>Where: The path, hoping to be spared a brutal butt-fucking.<br/>When: Early Afternoon, Sunday<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://img259.imageshack.us/img259/3635/sparxlarsa.jpg)</div><hr/><br/>Sparx wasn't happy. He wasn't happy at all. Especially when he heard Henrick's blunt words. Before, he ignored them, but this time, they sounded all too familiar.<em>"I've got some survival advice. Spend less time tinkering, and more time honing your body."</em>It was Henrick's words, but it was his father's voice that he heard. The heavy-handed retired military general didn't stand the sight of weakness. Sparx's eyes fleshed with a venomous pain, but he hid them away under the glow of his data pad. He didn't want to think about it; about anything, so he spent a quiet moment staring at the cold blue screen. No matter what anybody said about him, it didn't matter. Tinkering, building, and programming. Those were his skills. Those are what made Sparx different from everybody else. They made him special. At least... that's what he's always told himself.<br/><br/>Siren's voice was the first he heard, and he pulled himself out of that little funk before looking over to her. He stood himself up and turned to the girl, then offered a cheerful smile. "I suppose." He said kindly, hoping that all he had to do was make it to class today and he'd be spared a brutal butt-fucking. It was then that he saw her get painted with those markings, and it seemed to apply a lot of weight on her. She fell over from the weight and he was surprised. How heavy could those marks be to knock down such a strong demon. "Do you need any..." Before he could finish, she was already on her feet and on her way up the trail. He smirked. The weight probably just caught her off guard. She looked like she was handling it pretty well, as was most everyone.<br/><br/>Sparx then squeaked when Black Butler applied the paint to his legs. He helped, and tried to get away, but the weight already set in. His legs felt like tree roots. He groaned; there was no escape. Rolling his sleeves back, he accepted the markings on his arms as well. Immediately, they swung heavily to the ground and the young man almost fell on his face. He groaned, and strained, but was finally able to stand straight up. His body was shaking under the weight, and it took all the energy he had just to stand up. This was pathetic. How i the world was he going to get anywhere like this? He decided to try and observe the others. Maybe they found a useful way to negate the weight of the markings, or were using some type of technique he could mimic. The young human watched all the other students making their way using whatever they could to their advantage. Zaara took to the ground like an actual spider; he thought that was pretty clever. His eyes then fell on Henrick, and he watched the human fight his way up one foot at a time. No pain, no stress, no nothing. He was just going for it.<br/><br/>He reminded Sparx of his brother, Lennox. His elder brother was always stronger, faster, and more talented. Lennox could run, jump, climb, and shoot a fly out of the air with a BB gun all at the same time. He was Dad's favorite. Probably mom's as well, but she did better not to let on that she played favorites. They used to be close, but as Lennox got older, he started spending more time out of the house, and then when he went off to boot-camp, he left Sparx behind. Now he honestly had no one. Before, he always blamed everyone else: his mom, his dad, even Lennox. Now, the only person he blamed was himself. He wasn't strong like his brother, or like anyone for that matter. He just couldn't keep up physically, and just like his older brother left him behind, now the short-lived acquaintances he just made were also pushing forward.<br/><br/>He didn't want to be left behind. Not again. He grit his teeth; a self-depreciating hatred hidden under the darkening tint of his transition lenses. ~Just one foot... at a time.~ His struggle was of epic proportion. Hus right leg felt like it had a refrigerator on it. He strained, and lifted a shaking foot, then slammed it into the ground in a singer step forward. He panted. ~Good... now just one hundred and eighty-two steps to go.~ If only he were as strong with his legs as he was with his body. No time to complain, however. He lifted up his left foot, another struggle as he fought back against gravity, and then slammed it in front of the right leg. He then had a thought.<br/><br/>Gravity...?<br/><br/>He thought about his hover board. Its weight capacity could support up to five Sparxs. He could just ride up the rest of the way. His eyes lit up. He'd easily be the fastest there and blow everyone else away. ~Ha ha! I'm a fucking genius! Science always prevails!~. Then it hit him, like a gunshot to the heart.<em>"Spend less time tinkering, and more time honing your body."</em>He froze; the heavy weight of his heart now dragging down his spirit. ~That would definitely be cheating...~ Sparx was no cheater. He hated being a loser, and he hated getting stuck, but even on the hardest video game against the baddest boss or most complex dungeon, he never cheated. Even as a hacker, he never altered programs to make winning easier for himself. That just wasn't cool.<br/><br/>He grimaced, and his hover board deactivated. "Sorry, buddy. I'm gonna have to do this climb alone..." His eyes whipped up towards the path. ~One hundred and eighty-one left...~ He lifted up his right foot, and slammed it down in front of the left. ~Come on, Sparx. Pick up those knees! Straighten those shoulders!~ One step at a time, each at thirty second intervals. He'd measured out in his mind how much energy he had left for the day, how much he used with each step, and the total amount of energy he would expend trying to make this climb. After that, he guestimated how much time between each step he should take to optimize his output. He came up with around thirty seconds per step. He had one hundred and eighty steps left. With a thirty second break between each step, he should make it to class in... an hour and a half.<br/><br/>He wanted to die...