pyr min solemnly swears he is up to no good (twinclaws) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-07-04 16:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, juliette coulombe, pyr min |
Early morning spar
Who: Pyr & Juliette
What: Sparring
Where: Lindwyrm Hall training grounds
When: This morning
Rating: PG?
Status: Complete!
Pyr reached the training grounds at a run. He'd meant to wake up with plenty of time to eat breakfast, change and stretch for a bit before meeting Juliette, but those plans, made the previous night with a great deal of optimism, had not been transformed into reality. He had overslept, rummaged in one of the boxes he still hadn't unpacked for an outfit that was comfortable for training, grabbed a few of the cookies Councilor Cassul had brought him and made a dash for the door. He had agreed to meet Juliette for a spar in the training grounds at Lindwyrm Hall at seven, and he made it there out of breath but with a few minutes to spare – a small victory. He stood in place for a moment to get his breath back under control and take a look around. Whenever he by some miracle managed to summon the willpower to rise early, the idea always struck him that early morning was probably the best time to train, and he resolved to get up early the next day and put that idea into practice. But that particular match always ended with the result Sloth – 1, Pyr – 0 and he turned around in bed and went back to sleep. This time, though, the frustration he'd felt after being defeated by seafood was fresh enough in his mind that he was willing to make an effort, if it meant avoiding a repeat of the battle on the docks. His mind was running along those lines when he saw someone sitting some distance away from him. He wasn't sure if it was her or not, but he couldn't see anyone else and she looked about the right age. "Hi there!" He waved and started to walk toward her. Juliette had arrived at the training grounds half an hour early, as was her habit. She liked mornings, with their clear air and birdsong and hushed streets. She always thought better this time of day, and the quiet was soothing. Having ascertained that she was the first at the practice grounds, she had settled in a sunny corner, folded her leg under her, and slipped easily into a meditative half-trance. This was easiest in the mornings, too, before the frustrations of the day had built up. She had spent twenty minutes with her eyes closed and her breathing even when she heard someone call out. She opened her eyes, then after a moment rose to her feet. A boy, she saw, about her age or perhaps a bit younger, in clothing of a style not common in Emillion. "Pyr Min?" she asked, taking these factors together to make a guess of his identity. "Yup, that's me," Pyr said with a grin. So this was Juliette after all. She had been sitting down – meditating? – but when Pyr approached she stood up to greet him. Her training clothes were a different style from the attire the female squires wore back home in Ordalia, but they looked comfortable enough. "Hope you didn't have to wait long. Want to start?" What with the attack and his subsequent convalescence, Pyr hadn't really had a chance to get to know the other squires, but he thought it would be good to find out what sorts of techniques they knew sooner rather than later, and a spar was the perfect way to know. He'd asked Juliette because she'd seemed a bit awkward in the messages they'd exchanged through the network, and sounded like she needed to relax and make a friend or two. She hadn't seemed to grasp the concept of "just hanging out" (and he still felt making her friends call her Juliette was a bit stiff), so maybe sparring would be the perfect excuse to get her to let loose for a while. "Not at all," Juliette said, her voice fairly pleasant. He wasn't late, after all - she was simply always early. And getting to the training yard before the crowds descended was something she preferred in any case. They would have the place largely to themselves for the next hour. She gestured to the rack of practice weapons, gave him an inquisitive look. "Do you have a preference?" All squires were trained with most basic weapons, but most at her age - and even at his - already had some idea of what class they wished to enter, and their best weapons tended to reflect that aim. She was willing to be flexible, not only because it seemed she was older - as well as polite - but also because he was new to the Guild, and she was in some ways the representative of the Guild at this moment. Pyr considered his options. The only weapon he was any good with was knives, and though he usually carried two, when Juliette gestured to the weapons rack he decided to pick up only one. It was blunted, as all practice weapons were, but that didn't really matter much, as he would use it primarily as a distraction. When he sparred an unfamiliar opponent, he liked to keep a few tricks up his sleeve, and using a single knife was one of those. Over the years of training, he had found that most people tended to focus on the armed hand, which meant he could perform his real attack with his empty hand while his opponent's attention was elsewhere. Of course, this sort of thing stopped working after a while, but it would probably give him an edge until she learned to watch for it. It was also possible that Juliette had fought other people who used a similar tactic, or that she'd catch up sooner than most, but Pyr wasn't too worried. He was fast, which worked well enough on a lot of people, and he had more than one card up his sleeve. The practice knife held in his right hand, Pyr took a step back to allow Juliette to take her weapon off the rack. "Your turn, my lady," he said with a shallow bow and a smile. "As you wish," she said, picking up a practice knife of her own, wondering how he had known to call her my lady. Most of her fellow squires didn't realize, at least not at first. Or was he teasing her? Was that what was happening? She could never work out these things. She tested the heft of the knife before deciding it was good enough for her purposes. She usually preferred two, if it came to that, but she could be accommodating. Stepping out into the center of the training yard, she bowed her head - ingrained habit, from all the monks she had worked with - then settled back into a guard stance. His stance, as he stood across from her, was mildly familiar - Ordalian? it reminded her of Councilor Liu - and she considered how to adjust before she moved in for a jab with the knife, testing how he would react. Pyr didn't miss Juliette's reaction to his words. He'd only called her 'my lady' to tease her, but maybe he'd inadvertently struck a nerve. Was she nobility? Or did she just not take well to such teasing? She picked up a practice knife like Pyr's without comment, as if nothing was amiss, so Pyr let it slide, but he made a mental note to find out more later. He followed her out into the center of the training yard and returned her bow, then adopted a defensive stance, as did Juliette, though he didn't recognize hers. He wondered if it was common in the area, and if it had any particular advantages over the guard stance he'd learned back home in Ordalia. Perhaps he'd need to spar with the squires here more often to find out what else they did differently. Pyr had barely finished forming that thought when Juliette moved in for a jab. His reflexes were unmatched, however, and he quickly dodged and retaliated with an attack of his own. But Juliette rejected it almost effortlessly. She was fast. Although Pyr's strength wasn't so good, he had never fought anyone who could match his speed, but as they continued their little dance, neither of them managing to make their attacks connect, he began to think Juliette might be the first. Definitely Ordalian style - she adjusted for it as he launched his attack and deflected the swipe of his knife at her ribs with a forearm against his wrist. She tried a second attack, this time a swipe from below to skirt over his ribs; he deflected this one too, then launched an attack of his own, which she in turn parried. They went on like this for some time, jabs and swipes and the occasional kicks and punches. He was quick, she had to give him that - generally, that was one of her best strengths when fighting someone her own age, but with him she did not have her typical advantage. But she did have one other; as they continued to trade blows, each deflected and parried, flowing into the next, she began to notice small things. A slightly dropped left shoulder, a certain angle to his knife hand as he came in for an attack, the way he balanced just a little forward. Juliette was by no means a creative combatant, but she had always been praised for her observation and analytical skills. As the spar wore into its second minute, she calculated, waited. As he came in with another attack, she feinted left, then brought her right leg up to a quick roundhouse, connecting solidly with his ribs. Pyr realized Juliette was feinting a split second too late to avoid her kick. Pain shot through his body and made his vision white out. He'd broken a couple of ribs during the fight on the docks and, though the bones had healed, the soreness remained. He staggered from the impact, crippled by her blow, and she took advantage of his delayed reaction to pull his feet out from under him. Pyr recovered his wits in time to hit the ground with his arms first, palms down to discharge some of the energy from the fall and dull the impact. "Ouch," he said. Juliette pinned his armed hand above his head. Next she would place her practice knife against his neck, which would have meant death in real combat and thus brought an end to the bout; before she could, Pyr let the spray he'd obtained from Sky, which he'd placed up the sleeve of his empty hand, roll down into his grip and sprayed water into Juliette's eyes. It was harmless, but it triggered her blink reflex, and when she flinched her grip on him faltered long enough for Pyr to throw her off and reverse their positions. Now he was the one on top, and he immediately brought his knife to rest under her chin. "I win," he announced with a grin. She had won the bout fair and square - until he'd cheated to flip her onto her back. She knew she was gaping up at him as he grinned at her. The rules of practice bouts were certainly universal, he must have known. She felt her temper simmering, narrowed her eyes, then shifted her weight, ignoring the twinge in her mostly healed hip as she pressed it into the ground, giving herself just enough room to kick out at his knee. It was crude and awkward, but it did the trick; as his balance wavered, she shoved, bringing him once again to his back. This time, instead of bringing the knife to his throat - useless, since he had thrown out the rules himself, she pinned both of his wrists above his head with her two hands. "You cheated," she told him, her tone icy. "Hardly an honorable victory." If he desired knife fights in alleys, he was surely in the wrong guild. Seeing Juliette gape up at him felt pretty good, especially since the pain in his ribs hadn't faded yet. Pyr thought about injecting a smartass comment to rub it in her face, but before he'd opened his mouth she wiggled under him and he found himself lying on his back once again. This time, Juliette pinned both of his hands. A twinge of pain shot through his recently healed wrist and he grimaced. He opened his mouth to tell her that the bout was over and if she would just let go, they could start a new one if she wanted. Then he saw the furious expression on her face. When she accused him of cheating in her prissy princess tone, he almost laughed out loud. "Honorable? Trying to kill someone is hardly honorable. Isn't that the point of sparring? To avoid getting killed in real combat?" He rolled his eyes at her. Was she serious? "Or what, you expect your opponent in a real fight not to use dirty tricks?" He pictured an attacker bowing in apology to his victim for pulling them roughly into a dark alley. I'm terribly sorry, sir, for startling you like this! Where are my manners? Pyr had to laugh; it was ridiculous. "There's no point to sparring if you're always holding back." Arching an eyebrow up at her, he asked, "Well? Are you going to keep frowning at me all day long?" Her illusions that he might apologize for his behavior were shattered when he laughed at her. Laughed! Nearly unbelievable, considering she had him pinned to the ground under her. Surely this wasn't what they taught squires on Ordalia; she hadn't personally met any, but there were a number of senior guild members from the neighboring continent and none of them displayed this - this - ridiculous cockiness. "That is hardly fair," she responded to the mockery, affronted. The nerve of him! But she couldn't help thinking of the narrow alley as she made her way out of the docks. crabs and iguions didn't fight fair, either. But in the training yards... "Shall we fight to first blood, then?" she inquired. The idea of breaking his nose for him held some appeal. "Perhaps to the death?" she continued snidely. "With edged weapons? Your new instructors will adore it, I am quite certain." And... she was speaking far too much, and too freely. She released him and stood, picking up her practice knife with white-knuckled hands and stalking over to the weapon rack. She wouldn't apologize - she wouldn't, despite the urge being nearly overwhelming - so she busied herself with tidying the weapons on the rack, which didn't really need tidying, as she took deep breaths and attempted to regain her composure. Juliette rejected his line of reasoning, but Pyr didn't miss the way her eyes darted to the left. She'd been injured in the fight on the docks too; was she remembering something from that day? He doubted the iguions or the crabs had stuck to the rules when fighting her -- they certainly hadn't for him -- but pushed the thought out of his mind when her expression turned even angrier. She couldn't mean what she was saying -- first blood? To the death? -- but Pyr kept his expression neutral; it was wise not to piss her off even more, especially since she still had him pinned to the ground. Just when Pyr thought she might punch him, she suddenly released him as if she'd been burned and walked over to the weapon rack, her back to him. He massaged his wrist, which had gone numb from being pinned to the ground, and let a slight smile form on his face. From the beginning of the spar, her manner had been calm and totally in control, but it seemed that was all on the surface. Pyr thought it couldn't be healthy having to constantly fight to affect a demeanour contrary to what she felt, but he was certainly grateful she'd recovered her composure before beating him up. He wasn't eager for more broken bones so soon after recovering from his injuries. He walked over to her. She didn't speak, and he wondered if she'd decided to ignore him. "Want to spar again? I won't use the spray this time." His body was telling him it was a terrible idea to challenge her again while she was still mad, but on the other hand, he wanted to see how she would fight angry, and his curiosity was stronger than his self-preservation instinct. If she accepted, she was fairly certain she would simply try to smash his face in and be done with it. "No," she said shortly; having replaced the knife, she selected two longer practice daggers, tested their heft to make sure they were equal. Wrist and ankle weights next; she strapped them on, saying nothing while she did so. When she was finished, she realized he was still standing here, so she added a pointed, "No, thank you." She took herself to the center of the practice yard with her selected weapons, fell into a guard stance. With her eyes closed, she counted her breaths, reminding herself that if she lost her calm, he would indeed have won, and more than the match. On an exhale, she began to move, first form into second, second into third, against an imaginary opponent to whom she determinedly refused to give Pyr's smirking face. Pyr shrugged and sat on the ground. If they weren't going to spar again, he might as well do the next best thing and watch Juliette do her katas. Though some of her movements looked unfamiliar, her form was solid. She flowed almost effortlessly from one form into the next; Pyr had to wonder how many hours of training she'd put in to get this good -- more than he had, that was obvious. After he'd been watching a while, though, he began to notice small openings that blinked in and out of existence as she moved. If those mistakes were always there, he could take advantage of them next time they sparred. And if they'd only appeared because she was angry, he might have to rile her up again. She had to be aware he was watching her practice, but she didn't open her mouth once to tell him to mind his own business or even acknowledge him. Was her concentration really so good she could block her surroundings out, or was she too proud to admit he was bothering her? From what he'd seen of her that morning, Pyr was willing to bet on the second. And if she wasn't saying anything, then neither was he. He continued to watch her in silence until, after some thirty minutes, she placed the practice daggers back on the weapons rack and tidied everything up. As Juliette began to walk away, Pyr shouted after her, "Same time next week?" She didn't reply, but Pyr was sure she'd heard him. The question was whether she'd show up. He'd just have to come back the following Thursday and find out. |