_kingofthedead_ (_kingofthedead_) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-09-28 23:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | bast, t'challa (black panther) |
Who: T’Challa and Bast
When: Labor Day weekend
Where: A dojo somewhere in the OC. I just made up things, don’t judge me
What: Sparring adventures
Rating/Warnings: Low
Status: Complete when posted
Bast really had no idea what to expect. She knew various forms of combat and understood, to an extent, the way she fought in the dreams. Then again, she had claws in the dreams. Bast wasn’t entirely certain that she had them here. At least, she hadn’t noticed it as a thing. But she wanted to understand more about T’Challa’s dream world and the way his people fought. Plus, it had been a while since she had someone to spar with. Someone who didn’t brush her off or find her too intimidating to fight. Though, she’d had far more experience with the former than she had with the latter. Apparently women weren’t particularly threatening. Then again, she’d also proven more than a few people wrong at the police academy. You used things like that to your advantage. If someone underestimated you, they were more likely to be sloppy and it was easier to take them down.
She’d charmed her way into a friend letting her borrow his dojo for the day, which had taken both a lot of pouting and a lot of sucking up. But it was worth it to get the chance to spar with T’Challa. She was curious about him and everything he dreamt, of the fact that he was her champion. She wondered idly how different it was from someone following the path of Bast in her dreams. She had a feeling it was more different than similar, but she’d figure it out eventually.
She’d been waiting outside, leaning casually against the building when she noticed T’Challa. “Hello, kitten. Are you ready for a day of exciting adventures?” A pause. “And probably bruises. Those will probably happen, too. If we do it right, I mean.”
T’Challa smiled as he walked up to her, flashing white teeth against dark skin, as he pocketed his car keys. His face made a barely perceptible curious expression at ‘kitten’, eyes questioning and brows twitching down a moment. They’d only met in person once and she was already using pet names? “Yes,” he said after a moment of hesitation. Let the kitten thing go, T’Challa. he told himself. “More than ready.” He could deal with bruises. He just wasn’t so sure about dealing them out against Bast. He had no problem sparring against women, thanks to his dreams. Wakandan women were just as easily warriors as the men, sometimes even fiercer and better skilled as his Dora Milaje proved. But he was still wrapping his head around socializing with a goddess, even if she didn’t seem to have all her powers yet.
Kitten was a pet name for everyone. She supposed it was a bad habit, but it was one that happened more often than it didn’t. It was how she addressed R on a regular basis. She just happened to warm up to people quickly. If she decided she liked you, then she liked you. There was nothing to change it. Unless you betrayed her or swore allegiance to Isis. Then again, Sadie was currently housing her great annoyance, the one and only Isis, so she probably couldn’t really say anything. She noted his expression, though. Her expression didn’t show any concern or discomfort, though. She was content to be her easy-going self. “Good. I’ve been excited about this since you texted.” She was not really worried about fighting. She hadn’t sparred with anyone since the dreams had started, but she wasn’t overly worried. She had a feeling that T’Challa could handle whatever it was that was thrown at him should she be suddenly stronger than she expected. “Come on in. I pulled a few strings and we’re the only ones here.”
“As have I, goddess.” he replied. And it was the truth. T’Challa had missed Stephen terribly, who had been his sparring partner previously. It made things interesting to spar against a master of the mystic arts. He hadn’t really asked anyone else from the network as he wasn’t entirely sure of their skill sets, and being a bit on the antisocial side, he hadn’t made as many friends as he probably should have by now.
Following Bast into the dojo, he gave it a once over. “This is a nice establishment. How did you manage to convince your friend to give us the whole dojo for the day?”
She smiled at his manner of addressing her, momentarily thinking about R’s comment. She shook her head, managing to keep from laughing even if the amusement was clear. “At least we’re on the same page, then.” She glanced around the place before tapping her fingers against her lips, doing her best mischievous look. “I just asked and offered to help him with a class sometime.” She shrugged. “I asked if I could teach napping, but he said he didn’t think that was going to work. So I told him I supposed I could teach a self defense class. Plus, he doesn’t get many people in here on Sundays.”
T’Challa grinned and chuckled. “In this busy world I think perhaps people could use a lesson in napping.” He nodded at the rest. It made sense she could teach self defense, considering her resume.
“So, shall we get started then?” he said after a moment of silence between them. He proceeded to stretch, though it was hardly necessary. It seemed the dreams had enabled his body to be limber all the time, ready for any action that could be thrown at him. He put on a show for barely a minute before deciding enough was enough. Normally he was used to practising in his Black Panther habit, but since the deal had been struck between them he’d only show her his when Bast’s costume showed up, he had to dress normally. Which was fine, as he discovered in his new set of dreams he could fight just as well in civilian clothes as he could in his costume - despite some of their movement restrictions versus a skintight suit. He had chosen to come in a form fitting t-shirt, as well as a pair of pants made of a light material. T’Challa slipped off his sandals and stepped onto the mat barefoot.
“I completely agree. Napping is an excellent pastime.” She grinned before starting to stretch herself. She wasn’t sure if she was any different when it came to fighting yet. She guessed that she’d find out eventually. She wasn’t going to chance hurting herself on the off chance, she hadn’t gotten some of her dream!self’s abilities. She’d gone with leggings and a tank top. It wasn’t a leopard print leotard, but it was close enough. It gave her the ease of movement and a little less leopard print. When T’Challa stepped onto the mat, she assumed it was time to go, so she toed off her shoes and stepped onto the mat after him. “So where do we start?”
“We start, with what you know. Show me.” he took a stance, as he would in costume, legs apart and bracing, arms poised with fingers spread as if he had claws at the ends of them, ready to strike out. It was a classic Black Panther pose.
“I’ll do my best.” There was a lot of knowledge stored in her head, from this life and the one that she dreamt of. It took her a moment to decide which to go with. It was probably best to mix both of the two together, so she did. She let her muscles relax for a moment as she let that part of her memory take over. She didn’t have her knives and she noticed the lack of them at the moment, but she figured that it was for the best that she didn’t have them. She tried for claws, but nothing happened, so she assumed that she wasn’t that changed. Just enough for her muscles to remember how work with her fighting style in the dreams. She was a cat goddess, after all. Cat-like reflexes came naturally. She offered a hint of a smile. All of her wanted to pounce and scratch, much like a cat, but she resisted the urge and went for something just as direct, but a little less like a cat. She could at least try to kick his legs out from under him. If not, then she trusted that she’d have the speed and ability to get out of the way of a return attack. If she could still manage flips and the same level of agility as she had in her dreams.
For his part T'Challa was doing his best to deflect Bast’s moves as they came, while also analyzing her fighting style. Remarkably, it was similar to his own - plenty of swift and deft strikes with the hands at the head, chest and abdomen. His hands were lightning quick, pushing away and deflecting each attempted blow with the muscle memory of a master at martial arts and close quarter combat. So it took him by surprise when Bast managed to land a strike against his side, and after he leapt out of the way of a kick, got his legs swept out from under him.
She was fast. Very fast. T'Challa flew back as if to land on his back, but instead turned it into a head over tail tumble, landing nimbly on all fours into a very cat-like crouch. He looked up at her and smirked. “Most impressive.”
Bast was fast, but she was surprised at how well he was able to deflect. She was also proud in a sort of abstract way to know that a version of her had him as a champion. He was clearly skilled and he would certainly have done well in a fight against mortals. She would never have put him up against Apophis or anything like that like her father had done with her. But she thought, had he been a little less mortal, he probably would have done well against him as well.
She grinned at the compliment, but forced herself not to let it distract her. “I have dreamt about years and years of fighting a giant snake, so I would hope I’ve managed to be somewhat impressive after that.” She tilted her head slightly. “But you have done very well also. I can see why you would be chosen. Even if some of it came after the fact.”
T’Challa stood and chuckled, dusting his hands off. “I can only imagine what fighting Apophis must be like. Would look good on a resume if this world were more like our dreams.” he teased. At the compliment, his smile sobered into a polite and respectful one and he bowed in acknowledgement. “Thank you, goddess.” Approaching her, he took stance again, this time in a slightly different pose. “My turn.” And he smiled almost fiendishly, before going into a flurry of movements, hands attacking in thrusts and jabs in cat like movements, legs striking out to kick at the gut or return the favor and try to kick her legs out from under her. He was in her face, up close and personal, Wakandan fighting movements now muscle memory.
“I didn’t sleep for centuries,” was the only reply she had. But then she hadn’t needed to. She’d missed cat naps, but that’s what she gave up to be her father’s Champion. Along with pretty much everything else. “You’re welcome, Champion.” The fighting style was different from any that she knew, which wasn’t entirely surprising. She didn’t have the dreams he did. She was able to block hits, but she wasn’t perfect. Especially when it came to Apophis. That was why she’d almost been lost completely. The hit to the stomach momentarily knocked the wind out of her. “Okay. That was pretty good. Painful, but good.” She didn’t think that anyone attacking the stars was going to be able to fight like that, but who knew? She waited a few moments before actually pouncing a little bit more like a cat, but there was always a chance he’d be distracted.
He hadn’t actually expected to land that blow, and stood momentarily horrified that he’d knocked the air out of her. When Bast pounced before he was able to issue an apology, he was caught off guard and backpedaled while trying to defend himself. Tripping backwards he landed on the mat, hitting his head a bit hard. He winced. When he opened his eyes he realized he was staring up at Bast, who had pounced on top of him. “Um...I’m sorry?” This was becoming a bit surreal, having just kicked the goddess of his nation in the stomach.
Bast had to take a moment not to be completely awkward about the situation, while simultaneously not bursting into laughter at the situation. “And that’s how you get into trouble,” she said without really thinking about it. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Unless I say otherwise, but usually, the rule is don’t feel sorry for me. You don’t have a fancy suit on to protect you.” She smiled then. “Also your face is priceless right now. I thought you should know.” With that, she pulled herself up and held out a hand to him. If nothing else, she could say that at least she hadn’t laughed the minute she’d decided not to make things more awkward.
T'Challa took her hand and let himself get helped to his feet. He smiled his small, mysterious smile at her - the one reserved for when he was evaluating someone. He wasn't certain if the threat was legitimate after her comment about his expression - which he was sure probably was quite amusing considering the momentary alarm he’d felt thinking he’d truly made her upset with him. “Duly noted.” And his eyes were smiling again, his quiet charm restored. “So, your skills are quite exceptional. I'm not sure what you would like me to teach you. Perhaps some offensive hand to hand maneuvers?”
“I’m always ready to learn more. Plus, even if I’m not technically learning, having someone to keep me on my toes is always an added bonus.” She paused, looking him over for a moment before saying, “And I think I could learn a lot from your fighting style. I may be particularly capable of fighting and I did hold up against our enemy, but I don’t really have my avatar to fight with at the moment, so I should be prepared for anything.”
T'Challa pressed a hand to his chest and made a slight bow. “Then I am at your service.” He decided to start off teaching Bast some of the basic stances of the Panther fighting technique. This way, if she dealt with any overzealous types it’d be like hitting a brick wall. He first showed her the pose, then asked her to mimic it, carefully repositioning limbs with looks of permission and the gentlest of touches or nudges with a foot. “These poses mimic animal poses, such as the cobra or the panther.” Crouches, dodges, weaves, and disarming defensive and offensive hand to hand movements came next as one hour turned into the next and these were probably more familiar to his sparring partner as the strikes were catlike in movement and speed.
She carefully studied the stances as she mimicked them. Maybe she didn’t get them perfectly, but she didn’t fight when he fixed her position. She wanted to get them right. Especially since this was her champion. If she was the Bast that he knew, she would probably know all of this. She wondered idly if she’d have stood here and done this like she was or not. “I’ve never played snake before.” She wondered if that was something to keep in mind if Apophis ever showed up. She followed his direction and felt comfortable once things turned more catlike than anything else. She smiled when they took a break, working to catch her breath. “That was fun. I like this Black Panther way of fighting.”
T’Challa barely looked winded. There was scarcely a bead of sweat on his dark skin as he casually stood there during their break. The enhancements from the heart shaped herb plus Dream!Bast’s blessings had given him exceptional endurance. All the same, he sipped from a bottle of water so as not to show up this Bast. “Good. Perhaps we can make this a regular thing?” He smiled. It would be nice to keep his skills sharper than just the occasional OC invasion of madness.
Bast may have been a dream goddess, but none of it had really bled over outside of her influence over cats and her fighting technique. But she was sure in time, she would be back to ‘centuries of fighting Apophis over and over’ shape. “Definitely we can. I’ve learned a lot already, though I’m sure there’s plenty more. Thank you for taking the time today.” For a brief moment, she wished there was more she could teach him regarding her own things, but he was not a magician and he probably couldn’t see into the Duat or open portals. He certainly did not have it in him to use combat magic. “I’m treating us to post fight food, so grab your things and let’s go.”