It was a normal routine for the demon hellhound. Wake up early, stretch, and go for a run around the town square fountain, through the woods to the lake, back up the cemetary, a lap around each of the dorms, then to the gym. There, he had his own locker that he kept a change of clothes and other necessary items so he did not have to double back to his place for his duffel. With deep breathes, he glanced at the mirror on his way out. He ran his hand over his chin, fingers rasped against the facial hair. His scruff has grown in some since last week which meant he was due for a trim. His complexion was doing better since the excursion into the Whispering Forests. But the events that took place there still left his mind in a haze of questions, left him anxious for word of the outcome of the Umbra Council. Shaking his head, he knew it wasn't the time to be thinking about that. That was what the gym was for - to clear his head, to let it empty it out and relax. His hair was sweat soaked as was the rest of him, the change into dry clothes was appreciative. A shoulder-arm-lock stretch and a hand comb through his hair, he left the lockerroom to begin the regiment.

Curling a 25lb weight on a bench was no issue. He moved at a slow curl - 90 degree up to his chest, then back down to the outstretched. Headphones in - Hang Drum - he could focus on his work out at his own pace. He didn't have to push himself, though he could. He could certainly curl more than 25lb, but this was more beneficial for one's growth. The slow curl of the weight from resting to the 90 degree again made the muscles in his forearm tense, his biceps contract, and it gave that soothing burn that he had wanted. It was something called 'time under tension' where one prolonged the movement for an additional ten or so seconds. The duration and the stimuli led to the progress of one's growth. He had learned that if he dropped down from his maximum, he could prolong the exercise and thus gain more. Plus, it was also less stressful. He smirked to himself at the memory of that one student who insulted him for lifting so little.


During a lull of his music, he could hear the murmurs. During his workouts, he could feel the eyes on him. He tuned it out, he was working out alone in his head.

Uru took the first bench press that became vacant. He ignored the groans and scents of the other boils who were pumping away at what he imagined to be their maximum weight. He did so because he could sense the ghouls that were lingering, looking this way, or generally about. Boil have to show off - either for the ghouls or to one another. However, Uru ignored this. He wiped down his station before socketing the weights onto the bar. 45lb for the bar and an additional 300. Similar principal as curling, he wasn't going to go for his maximums and go lighter for prolonged reps. The blue eyes glanced at the other boils along the line of benches, watching their reps. Wrong. Wrong. Alright. Wrong. His expression pinched as he imagined what would happen if any one of them slipped. They were driving the weight from their clavicle - their collar bone. Not only is more work for them for no reason, but it risked injury. Rolling onto the bench, Uru flexed his grip on the bar before hefting it off the cradle. One should drive the weight above the chest. One should keep the elbows bent at a 90 degree angle, anymore would result in injury. And the trick was to lift from the legs to prevent the back from remaining flat on the bench. Another common mistake. Weight training was a serious regiment that required one to have a good form. Know what could result in an injury and minimize those risks. It is fine to push yourself to find your maximum, but to constantly rep that limit does not help the body.

With these little tactics, Uru could rep curls and bench presses all day without risk of injury.

Sitting up, the demon rucked up his shirt to wipe his face of sweat. It was time for a pause in the work out, and a water run was a good idea. Even while standing in line, he could feel others looking at him. Perhaps it is paranoia, or his own thoughts that were getting the better of him. Yes, he is a good looking boil; tall, athletic, has a face one would consider dangerous, he knew this. But that wasn't all that he was, right? Another point for Damien because he definitely knew the Uru behind this body. The one who has nightmares. The one who has his in-mornings. How he would whine if he was awoken on those days. The monster who didn't put up with his silent, broody treatments. Uru smiled to himself as he flip-catch his water bottle.

On second thought, that monster was gonna get a sweaty hug from his sweaty boilfriend very soon.

Thus, Uru ran out of the gym like a grinning idiot to the monster dorms.