alfred, the executioner (thegoodblood) wrote in the100, @ 2016-02-18 10:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, alfred, evie frye |
Who: Alfred & Evie Frye
When: February 17th, late evening/early morning
Where: Gymnasium
What: Alfred and Evie practice for fight club when things get uncomfortable. ~angst!~
They had been at it for the better part of an hour, stripped down to the bare essentials for this sort of activity and both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. When the round was over, Evie loomed over Alfred’s prone body and offered him both a smug smirk and a hand. Even she had to admit he was getting better. Both at learning control and at figuring out her weak spots, enough so that she knew it was only a matter of time before he was getting the best of her regularly rather than just on occasion. “Again.” It was the dead of night in the mountain, and the gym was suspiciously quiet. Which was exactly how she preferred it, especially when it came to a sport where people preferred to watch. They could watch on Friday, but this was for them alone. Not to mention, it helped tire her muscles enough to sleep soundly for four-to-five hours. “Or are you ready to give up?” If Alfred noticed her smug expression, one couldn’t tell - he gripped her hand and hauled himself up with the sweet sort of smile generally reserved for only the kindest of companions. The truth was, yes, he’d noticed her smug expression, and yes, the smile was a passive aggressive response he knew was annoying as could be from someone looking to get a rise out of someone else, and since his attempts at annoying her with trash talk were terrible then seeming unaffected and serene would simply have to do. “Give up? Why would I do that? Sounds terribly pessimistic when you’ve helped me come so far.” There, that was laying it on thick. He shot her a toothy grin with the edge you’d expect and took position once again. She had helped him greatly, it was true. His form had improved, his style wasn’t solely based on strength and brutality alone, and while she was still far lighter on her feet he was growing able to anticipate her blows. He had no hope that he’d progress far in the Fight Club (or at all), but the point was in the experience, was it not? Not the winning. Even if Evie seemed to enjoy the winning very, very much. “Would you like to break for water before we start again, or are you ready now?” Being an overly-kind arse was easy. Came second-nature at this point. Better to fight and to rile the other up than to think too hard on how bright her eyes looked against the redness of her face, and how much he liked it when she preened after a fight (although he had a feeling she would deny the preening until her dying breath). Evie laughed, she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t even someone who particularly enjoyed trash talk, not like Jacob did, but she was so bloody used to it when fighting with men. The Blighters that went against her in the ring in London were all too happy to throw any manner of disgusting words her way. She was all too happy to smash her fist into their face and snap their arms out of the sockets, in return. Fighting against Alfred was different. He was a prime specimen, in some of the best ways. Even she could admit - though it took some time on her part - that he was attractive, and when at this level for fighting she took note even more.Against her better judgement. She didn’t let it affect her fighting, however, and the smugness more or less helped combat any lingering looks she gave him when he made a move that impressed her. But his over-the-top optimism was one of the main things that endeared him to her. He had this way of setting her at ease that she didn’t get from many other people, and it was so unlike nearly every other persons that fought against her. That didn’t mean she was going to let him get the better of her, however. Moving into her position, Evie stood casually, arms dropped at her side while she watched him take his stance. “I’m always ready, Alfred. That’s something you’re going to have to learn.” Holding up her hands, she made a ‘come and get me’ signal with her fingers. “Come on, then.” And so he did, with a move she’d demonstrated several times before - fake a rush, drop to the side, set them off-guard and solidify that off-guardedness with a hit. Alfred was by-and-large unaware of how men usually fought Evie Frye; the fact that women were not generally thought of as tough as men in this world was something that continued to mystify him daily. Yharnam may have had a thorough set of problems to contend with, but whatever sexism it might have had paled in comparison to this world’s. There was no restriction on women fighting, nor any expectation that they would be better off at home having children. He supposed the plague had something to do with it, but also their religion was very clear that there were female and male gods, and both were capable of destroying or blessing you. Either way, it meant that he neither held back his strength beyond what he would do for any human being, nor did it mean he had any particular shame over losing to her. And lose, he usually did. His feint half worked against her, Evie hadn’t quite expected him to use the move, fully waiting for him to take a more straight-forward approach, and barely dodged in time. Instead she caught his arm against her own, still taking a hit but having caught it in time so she wouldn’t be bruised from it in the morning. But it was enough of a late-move on her part that she stumbled even as she grabbed his arm, and pulled him with her. The move was efficient, a strong yank that was meant to throw him off his own balance, but the struggle was less than graceful, compared to how Evie liked to usually handle things. A few steps and she ended with her back to his front, at a disadvantage, but she had his arm trapped in her strong grip and with just enough force, she knew she could throw him over her shoulder and onto the ground. “What? No commentary about the best fighter winning?” “Why talk when I can do it?” He returned against her ear - she was pressed very tightly against him, after all. Pinned really. Alfred was stronger than her; he was certain if he just got her even more off-balance-- And then he was flying over her shoulder and hitting the ground, his hesitation having cost him dearly against Evie’s quickness. At least she’d taught him how to land properly, and instead of hitting hard as he’d used to do he managed to do a disgraceful landing roll thing, just enough to save him from being pinned himself as he moved back into his original defensive stance, albeit decidedly more ruffled than before. “Well-timed,” he informed her dryly, and came at her from the left. Evie snorted this time, her laugh not quite making it out as she wasn’t breathless, but it always took a little out of her to throw someone of Alfred’s size over her shoulder. She circled around as he rolled, noting his technique and watching his clumsy footwork as he managed to get upright. “Good roll, but you need to practice that a dozen more times to make it slightly more graceful.” He had more grace than Jacob, at least, which said a lot for someone with training that was almost entirely “hit someone as hard as you can with a weapon bigger than you”. Giving a tiny bow, she saluted two fingers off the tip of her forehead. “Cheers.” It was far more fun to banter with someone she enjoyed the company of when it came to sparring, than the sexist pigs she was used to. So she made the next move, small smile on her lips as she went in with a barrel run towards Alfred’s middle. “You’re going to have to throw me a dozen more times, then,” he said, and then paused. “...not an invitation, really, but a… threat.” It wasn’t either, but there was no time to think of something better to say when she attacked. Evie rarely used her full force - it wasn’t her strongest point given how small she was - but Alfred was more-or-less ready for the blow, putting his heels back to bait her into it only to shift his weight and claim victory. That was the thought, anyhow. Unfortunately as he took a step back his heel slid off the edge of the mat, throwing him off balance and her off balance as she crashed into him, but not in the way either of them had anticipated. Down they went, her falling perfectly on top of him and him falling perfectly on a rather not pleasant corner of soft mat and hard floor. If Evie had enough time to laugh before crashing into him, she likely would have, but as it was her full weight had gone into his chest with the intention of only throwing him off-guard while she kept her footing and knocking him over, under her heel. Instead, he managed to throw her off of her balance (not an easy feat, since she was often compared to a cat) and Evie went down with him, much like a bag of rocks. She heard a crack, but couldn’t tell if it was the back of Alfred’s hard head or his elbow. Her hands braced on his chest. one palm reaching out quickly to try and soften their blow but failing. For a moment, she remained still, the wind knocked out of her after they landed, legs tangled into his own and sprawled out on his much larger frame. “Well,” she paused, trying to figure out how to untangle herself efficiently, “that was.. not exactly how I intended things to go.” This was the part where the shy and gentlemanly Alfred would ordinarily say something comforting and embarrassed, giving her ample time to free herself so that they could dust themselves off and regroup. Alfred was very good at knowing what was the right thing to say, at what was appropriate and expected, and he nearly always did exactly that. But the anonymous Valentine he’d received that wasn’t all that anonymous weighed on his mind, as did the anonymous Valentine that he’d sent in turn. He may have been a man of patience and virtue, but patience was not an infinite resource, and virtue… well. Virtue was hard to come by when the object of one’s suppressed affections was lying on one’s chest and legs and… right. “Could have gone a lot worse,” he offered wryly, and throwing caution to the wind, deliberately caught her eye and held it, hand that had (badly) attempted to break his fall slowly snaking up to her waist. “If I were to kiss you, and it went badly, do you think I could blame it on brain damage?” It was especially difficult when Evie tended to alternate between incredibly impulsive and strenuously calculated. Her brain thought about everything and at remarkable speeds when it came to strategy. And this was becoming something that required strategy. Or.. not. She honestly wasn’t sure. Things with Henry had been so… tame. Easy. Jacob teasing her had been the most annoying of any of it. She was sure she enjoyed his company, exactly the same that she was sure she enjoyed Alfred’s company. Which is exactly what stopped her from agreeing. It was the only reason that stopped her from agreeing, and her eyes even drifted down to his lips, hands not pulling away as quickly as they should have. The last thing Evie needed was to complicate matters with someone that had become a close friend, one of her few here. She had already gone back on a word given to Henry and to do that to another person without- She was overcomplicating things. Evie knew it. Her eyes drifted closed for a half-second and she strongly debated just leaning down and jumping to the kiss before he could, but instead did the opposite of what she wanted and pulled away, expertly maneuvering herself off of Alfred. Her words were awkward and her eyes wouldn’t quite meet his when she held out a hand to help him up. “I think, perhaps, we should avoid doing anything that might exacerbate a head-wound. Do you think you’ll require an escort to medical?” Alfred hadn’t actually expected to be shot down. Had he ever been shot down before? Off the top of his head, he couldn’t remember a time. Granted, it had nothing to do with being irresistable or any self-indulgent rot like that (Alfred may have had an ego but it wasn’t so awful as to assume himself a catch), but romance in Yharnam was altogether different from romance here. And thinking on it, now that she was scurrying off of him and inquiring about his head, he should have anticipated that better. Evie was so careful and planned about everything; why should she act against her nature for his silly whims? Disappointed more in himself than in her, he accepted her hand up and shook his head. “Medical’s not necessary. Just a bump. Not seeing double or anything like that. I’ve managed to immunize myself against being a terrible klutz.” His tone was even, voice chagrinned, no sign of any embarrassment as long as one didn’t look at his ears, which had gone very pink. “But if I’m this sloppy, it’s probably for the best that we call it a night. But,” the corner of his mouth quirked up, “I do have to thank you. I doubt I’d be half as prepared for your fight club if you hadn’t leant me your knowledge and expertise.” Evie nodded, kind of stiffly in her ‘I accept what you’re saying but am entirely too unsure of exactly what’s happening’ way that she so often did around Henry or anyone of note. Aleck. Ned and Freddy, on rare occasions when they flattered her and she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it. Honestly, Evie was so incredibly unsure of what to do with anything that was romance. There was… George. Which wasn’t romance, that was trying to rebel quietly and without notice while still keeping control of a situation. But at the same time, Evie had no wish to brush him off entirely. She liked Alfred - that was such a childish way to put emotion, in her eyes, but accurate nonetheless - and thoroughly enjoyed his company and all that came with it. Evie was simply resigned to the fact that she still had no idea what she wanted out of life now that the Assassin thing had gone wayside, and getting someone - anyone - caught into that wasn’t her idea of kind. “Right, well,” This time her smile was genuine and less awkward, even as she shuffled a bit. “I am happy to help, of course. You have potential and I think against anyone that isn’t me, you could do quite well. Better than some we already have participating, even.” It was always much easier for her to talk shop, and she began unraveling the cloth from her hands. “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight this Friday.” “And you, of course.” Any other time and he might have added a compliment to it, but Alfred felt that smiling and retreating at this point would probably provide the least discomfort for both of them. He was faithful that easiness, teasing and compliments would return between, and once he thought about it, he would realise that she hadn’t outright rejected him. And he knew that Evie would be very, very clear when something crossed a line. So maybe… well. Neither here nor there, at present. For now, he only bowed and grabbed his bottle of water, eager to shower and take refuge in the workshop. |