|
|
Post by Aegle Vitus on Oct 28, 2016 16:57:22 GMT -6
April 15
Aegle's body swayed with the sound of the music, flowing from strike to strike with a fluid grace that one might not soon suspect from the otherwise awkward and crooked girl. With her shoulders hunched and her guard up, it was only the slight twist in her knees and the pigeon-toed arrangement of her feet which even hinted that the orange haired fighter was anything less than a practiced boxer deep in a defensive stance. She'd left her hoodie on for once, and the obnoxiously bright garment clung tightly to her small frame in emphasis of her slight physique. She hadn't bothered to put it in the wash since her last fight with Lily, and the whole garment was crusty with smudged dirt and dry blood, but Aegle plainly didn't care. As she moved into her next combination, a lancing jab followed by a cleaving hook which loaded her leading fist back for a full body piston uppercut, she had eyes only for the small shadow she cast on the wall. Her fists slammed into the blank concrete, barely slowing as they connected, without her form breaking or her combo faltering. She followed through on every last blow as though she'd punch the wind and not an immovable slab of masonry. Swaying back in what might have been mistaken for repose, Aegle switched to south paw and then lunged forth again to crack her knuckles against the wall and repeat the same combination, only this time with her opposite hand taking the lead. It was impossible to say just how long she'd been at this, even Aegle wasn't quite sure, but the wall disclosed all upon its implacable face. While most of it was rough and unfinished concrete of the same kind most of the interior training cells were constructed, the precise spot where Aegle's blows all seemed to land was smoothed and almost glossy, as if buffed and polished to a shine. This was an especially remarkable achievement when one considered the otherwise desolate silence of the room, broken up only by quick breaths and the rhythmic staccato of impact. The usual mechanical whine that seemed to follow Aegle around wherever she went was conspicuously absent as she trained. Had someone been close enough to hear the air whistle about her fists with each swing she took, they would have been able to hear something like that familiar motorized keening, but it was so quiet as to be nearly wholly muffled by small girl's clothes.
Huffing quietly, Aegle switched stances again, swung a sudden and savage cross, followed up with an uppercut and then concluded with an explosive haymaker. Something hissed on the last swing, like the quiet whisper of a blade drawn across silk, but Aegle didn't hear it. All she could hear was the rhythmic, barbaric cacophony of her music and the anarchic pounding of her heart in her ears. So absorbed in her training and her the thought obliterating music was she that she didn't even see the thin smudge of red her final swing left on the buffed masonry. Bringing her hands up in a peak-a-boo guard, Aegle unloaded a flurry of fast jabs, switching seamlessly from southpaw and back every few swings without ever breaking the rhythm of her swings. Then, swaying away, she loaded a haymaker and slammed her fist home with the entire weight of her body and the whole of her physical strength behind it. Then she did it again with her other hand, swaying back and switching stances at the same time so as to not lose the flow of her combo. Again and again and again she struck, before, without warning, lunging back a few steps and then rushing explosively forward. At the precise moment the wall came into range, she took a back handed swing with her leading hand and followed up with a shockingly quick jab, all without coming to a halt until her second blow connected. When it did, she was too close to fully extend, but that didn't stop her from doing so. Being that the wall would not move, however, Aegle did instead. As she followed through with the jab, she also forced herself backwards, her heavy boots screeching on the concrete floor all the while. Then she lunged back, switching stances as she did so, and did it again.
So tireless and without respite was Aegle's training that she didn't even notice that she'd left the door to her cell open. It had only been slightly open when she first started, but a slight unbalancing of the hinges and innumerable minuscule vibrations had conspired to let it drift more and more ajar as her training had progressed. Not that seeing the door's current state would have been enough of a reason for Aegle to arrest her efforts. Few students used the indoor cells unless weather and the elements conspired to make training outside wholly untenable. Being that it was sunny when she'd come in to train earlier that afternoon, and that most students waited a couple of hours after classes ended to do their daily training, she wasn't worried about being spied on. What was much more important was to keep herself focused on her training and thereby distracted from everything else. Her anger and her frustration, while not so great as to be cause for concern, had both been quite lingering, and only endurance and tolerance training had been enough to take them off her mind. Unfortunately, though she'd been at it long enough that her fists had actually gone numb, Aegle's emotions had not subsided. She could feel them as they continued to lurk at the back of her mind, eager for any pause in her mindless violence to spring to the fore. Had she only had something physical which she might combat, something to overcome, she might have been able to satisfy or at least placate her troublesome feelings, but her problem was not one which ingrained muscle memory nor irrepressible determination could solve. She would know, given that she'd already tried to solve if that way. So all she could do was train and train and hope her anger stamina subsided before her stamina gave out.
Another loud rip hissed through the cell at the conclusion of another jab, and this time Aegle saw the streak of blood which resulted from it. Pausing midway into her next swing, Aegle rose out of stance and looked at the hand which had left the streak. It was bound in bandages from the last knuckle on each finger, extending all the way to under the cuff of her sleeve. Except the part the bandages which bound the knuckles of her index and middle finger were a shiny bright red and were worn nearly all the way through to the knuckles they were supposed to reinforce. Aegle flexed her fingers and scoffed with irritation, a sound most unbecoming of the usually affable young girl, when the bandages moved loosely across the back of her hand. A quick glance at her other hand quickly confirmed to Aegle that the same had happened to the wraps on that hand as well. Grinding her teeth in frustration, Aegle used the cuff of her sleeve, alright a grimy reddish-brown from the purpose, to wipe her blood off the wall, then she turned sharply in place and marched to the small duffel bag waiting by the door. Out of stance, the faint crook in her back and hunch of her shoulders was unmistakable, as was the queer limping lope which served as her primary means of locomotion. She wasn't an unattractive girl, but there was nothing about her features which stood out either, aside from an almost cherubic smoothness of her cheeks and paleness of complexion. Most remarkable was almost certainly the color and style of her hair, which stood up straight in a stiff mohawk and was dyed the same eye-gouging shade of orange as her hoodie. From her woodland-camo cargo pants she pulled a pair of safety scissors and cut free the bindings on both hands, which she tossed onto a heap of similar scraps piled up beside her bag. From the bag she pulled a small tube of disinfectant, a bundle of gauze and a roll of boxer's tape. Removal of the wrappings disclosed two evenly scarred hands and two sets of calloused knuckles, that latter of which all seemed to be bleeding freely. With savage familiarity, Aegle slathered these in a liberal coating of disinfectant gel, then proceeded to bind her hands up again, which she accomplished with exception speed and efficiency. That accomplished, she replaced her supplies in her bag, cracked her knuckles together, and marched back to the wall on the opposite side of the room...
|
|
|
|
Post by Celia Abbott on Nov 2, 2016 3:17:41 GMT -6
1,632 WORDS BY MINNIE OF GS Have we...
The wind blew gently through the leaves and grass, an oddly rhythmic sort of natural background noise that most people tended not to even notice, but was a chorus of song that seemed to touch the souls of those who could hear it ever so faintly. The sun beat down lazily in the the colorful afternoon sky, casting long shadows that stretched from the bases of trees and benches and twisted into dim, almost unrecognizable shapes across the courtyard. Class had only been out for an hour or so, and still students mulled about the courtyard - sitting, talking, studying, and just generally enjoying the pleasantly mild weather that preceded the sunset.
A young girl, with a pace that was not quite a walk, but not quite a jog, made her way across the courtyard with a small, worn canvas gear bag carried at her side. The girl, though surprisingly petite and uniquely coordinated in her coloration, blended in among the loose gathering of other students, whom she paid no mind to and in turn, paid no mind to her. She was not in a hurry, she tried to convince herself as she walked, because being in a hurry would defeat the point of doing this in the first place. She just wanted to get there faster, so she would have as much time as she needed. That wasn't hurrying. that was just using your time wisely.
She let herself into the building that housed the training cells beside the field, beyond the courtyard, and found herself a cell at the far end of the building. She expected to be mostly alone here, as it had been nice out and it was a little while before most people came out to train anyhow. The cells would provide the perfect spot for her - quiet, open, free of distractions. Not that she was really here to train.
As soon as she stepped into the cell, she set down the gear bag. It was old, with small holes and a faded tone that might have been green at one point, but was now a mottled mess of dark stains and faded fabric. She knelt down, unzipped the top compartment, and reached in, sifting through the various tools and capsules it held, peering in so she could confirm what she sought was there in the first place. Her hand met a small, closed cylinder of something solid and smooth, cool to the touch, with a small seam that ran along the circumference of it's center. She moved it from the bag. It was a glass capsule with a white lid, that contained a single dust crystal. It was bright blue in color, uncut, and unused. She had bought it and some others just yesterday in preparation, since she had unwittingly extinguished the supply she kept in her weapon locker for this very purpose. For the moment, she set the capsule beside the bad, and stood up fully.
Slowly, gently, she began to adjust her clothes. First, she slipped off the detached sleeves she wore on her arms, folding them and carefully setting them on top of the bag where they would remain off the ground. She peeled her gloves off as well, setting them atop the folded sleeves. Her jacket came next, unzipping it in the strange bottom-up direction the zipper was oriented, hanging it by the hood from the corner of the open cell door - allowing her bushy grey fox tail some room to breathe. Next, her sheath came off, leaned against the wall as best she could without it falling. She debated taking her boots off as well, but decided against it due to the lack of softer ground beneath her feet. She popped in a pair of beaten-up earbuds that Minette had given her some time ago and plugged them into the port on her scroll, flicking her thumb across the screen as she glanced through her library of music. One particular track caught her eye, and she tapped it. It was a lengthy track, an hour-long mix of soft, lyric-less music that she used to relax herself for this in particular. She went to the center of the cell, away from the door, her feet planted squarely apart in a wide, but loose stance.
A thought clicked in her head. Embarrassed, despite having nobody seen, Celia slunk her way back over to the bag and picked up the dust capsule. She twisted the white cap until it clicked and let out a hiss, and then lifted it from the glass and let the dust crystal drop into her palm. She put the capsule back in the bag, not bothering to keep it paired with the lid, eager to start already. The crystal pulsed with a deep blue light as the dark light of her aura passed through it to bring out its power - her power. She held it out, with her palm facing away from her, and closed her eyes. The crystal broke down in her hand, it's form suddenly and without warning collapsing into a mist of pure cyan light, which formed outwards from her hand in a large branch. It moved, worming its way between her fingers and to the back of her hand, extending the thick blob that had extended outwards into a mass as tall as she, formless and shapeless, then condensing and morphing into something vaguely humanoid.
The light exploded outwards, and in the wake of the shape stood a double of Celia - but not an exact double. In contrast to Celia's own vibrant orange highlights, the double had somehow opted for an ocean blue tone in her own clothing, finishing it off with a streak of color that Celia's own hair lacked. Eyes met, golden and seafoam, and the clone nodded to her. Celia paced away, back to the center, and closed her eyes as she immersed herself in the music again. The clone watched, silent, demure in it's posture, from where she had sat beside the door. Celia took her stance, and began.
Her mind cleared as the familiar movements of Minette's lesson overcame her, leading her in the odd, almost dance-like motions. She moved at an excruciatingly slow pace, but with the fluid grace of a practiced student as her hands and arms weaved intricate shapes in the air, her knees bent as she stepped slowly from one form and stance into the next. Never once did she hesitate, nor did her pace change, as she made her way through the practiced steps. It was not an exercise, nor was it even very strenuous, it was more akin to...meditation. It was a way for her to clear her mind, an excuse to get away from unwanted distractions and allow herself to just be at peace, if only for a moment. All the while, the clone watched her carefully, as if searching for something.
A noise jarred Celia out of her practice. She wasn't even sure how she had heard it, as it was not loud at all and she had been listening to music, but she had indeed heard it. It didn't do much more than cause her to lose focus for a brief moment before she continued on with her routine. The clone's eyes continued to rove over her true self, analyzing her form and technique, making mental notes of other, more personal things, and doing the best it could to keep it's mind off the wide array of raised, white lines that crisscrossed in unorganized patterns and lengths across most of the skin on her body. They were old and had mostly faded, but they both knew that they still hurt - if not for the pain they had brought, then for the lessons they had taught. Shirking Aura training was no longer acceptable. It would be twice a day from now on.
A repeat of the noise caused Celia to stumble, throwing her out of the rhythm of the routine. She let out a sigh, more out of exasperation than frustration or anger, and turned to her companion. The clone closed its eyes and nodded twice, standing up from its spot on the floor, grabbing Celia's sword and sheath, and following behind her as the two left the cell to search for the source. They walked in sync, each combined step of their boots clacking loudly and echoing through the concrete hall that led to all of the cell doors. She wasn't angry, she just wanted to practice in peace for once.
One of the doors, she saw, was partially opened. From behind it came the sounds of tearing cloth and scissors. Someone was certainly training in there. She approached the door and peered in. It was someone she didn't recognize, not that she was surprised by that. She knew very few people at this school. Raven, Agnès, and....that was about it. Two people she knew by more than just their name, which was only barely true in the case of the former. They seemed to indeed be training, or at least in the process of returning to said training, as they were currently making their way towards the wall. Celia wasn't entirely sure what sort of training this person was doing, but she found herself curious. She stepped a little further in to get a better look, but misjudged the distance between her foot and the door, and accidentally kicked it. The noise it made was loud and sharp, the sound of one solid object meeting another, with only a thin buffer in between. She tensed, anticipating being spotted and being unable to turn away before the cell's only occupant was likely to notice.
The steel-toe boots might have been a bad idea after all.
...met before? |
|
|
|
Post by Aegle Vitus on Nov 2, 2016 23:45:42 GMT -6
Whether it was Celia's rather imprudent footwork or the second collapse of the continents, Aegle was in no state to notice either. Even if she hadn't been wearing listening to the exact sort of cacophony which most pleased her, at a volume fit to make her ears bleed, no huntress was more renowned for her inattention than Aegle Vitus. Her focus had been sharpened to the point of a knife, and that knife had then been affixed to a wall on the exact opposite side of the room from where the unusual girl had come in from. She took no notice when Celia's clumsiness announced her presence, and scarcely even seemed aware of anything that wasn't directly in front of her. She slugged away with impunity, each blow another isolated shattering of the silence which had followed Celia's noisy entry into her space. The Queen of all Grimm herself could have been stood right behind Aegle and she would never have noticed.
Then, within moments of Celia's entry and in less time than it would have took the interloper to cross the room, Aegle attempted a charging cross. Without understanding the fundamental tenants of Aegle's particular style of combat, it would be hard to say precisely what had gone wrong. From behind, where Celia was approaching from, it looked as though she simply lost her footing and slipped at the same moment that her fist struck the wall. She wouldn't have been positioned to see the way Aegle's leg buckled to one side or the way her back bowed just before impact, though she might have known what they implied. It was her way to ensure that all attacks were thrown from sure footing and a firm foundation, ensuring that the full strength of her body could be translated into force for each punch. It was a technique which demanded much from her, but could ensure that ever blow struck landed as hard as possible. After all, Aegle wasn't like most fighters. She was physically smaller and weaker than the majority of her peers, and practiced a style of combat especially maligned by both those facts. Where most fighters could rely on the edge or weight of their weapons, boxers were handicapped by their weapon's lack of stopping power. Where other fighters could keep their opponents at range with their weapon's reach, a boxer needed to get up close and land precise blows to have any hope of victory. That was why, while another fighter would have straightened back up, taken a deep breath and maybe rightfully reasoned that they'd been at it a bit too long and it was time for a break.
Aegle did not. Aegle half stumbled, carried over by the momentum of her rotten swing, then stamped her foot heavily down on the concrete floor and rounded upon the wall as if it had done her some great injustice. There was no technique in the swings that followed. Three in total, neither landed with so much as half the care nor precision which her previous punches had exhibited. Each was little more the implementation of fists as clubs, which was a job for which they were particularly ill suited. At the last blow, she snarled, pushed herself back and kicked the wall with one of her steel toed boots.
"I'm not stupid!" She shouted at the wall, before kicking it again, "I know what I'm doin'! I know how to fight!"
Breathing heavily, far more heavily, even, than when she had been earnestly training, Aegle stood before the wall, the focus of all her frustration, clenching and unclenching her bandaged fists. In that moment, her weariness, and the fact that she'd been training well past any reasonable point, were most evident. Her back was hunched and her arms visibly shook, yet it was only when her head finally bowed and her shoulders sank that the threat of violence seemed to leave her. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. Still excited and still weary, but normal. Then she raised her hand, touched her knuckles off on the wall, and sank back into guard. And then she resumed, as if nothing had happened.
|
|
|
|
Post by Celia Abbott on Nov 10, 2016 20:46:24 GMT -6
The stranger's outburst and subsequent return to her training gave Celia a bit of pause. They hadn't noticed her, and that was very much a good thing - she wasn't particularly good at diffusing the kind of tension this girl seemed to hold. Celia, though, continued to watch. Her fighting style was unfamiliar, and odd, and she personally doubted its effectiveness in a combat scenario, but judging by the fluidity with which she moved from one strike into the next, this girl was well-practiced in...whatever it was she was practicing.
She stepped into the room cautiously, though her clone lingered in the doorway, hesitant. She disliked being intrusive, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her here. She continued to watch the odd training regimen that the girl was working her way through, eager to know more. She wondered idly what kind of weapon she used. How she would do in a fight. How they would fare against one another. She wouldn't lie, Celia kind of wanted to fight this girl - if for no other reason than to see her technique in action. Minette always encouraged her to spar with people she could easily read or counter, it would help her learn to overcome her own shortcomings. She did her best to, even if it often landed her in the infirmary.
A hand on her shoulder shook her out of her thoughts, the cool, ungloved palm of her water dust-infused clone. Celia looked back, and the clone favored her with a kind smile and a tilt of its head. It pushed the sword against her, urging her to take it - knowing what she wanted. Celia shook her head. While she did indeed desire a spar with the girl, this was hardly the time or place. She still had to meditate, and after that she had her Aura training, and she was already behind schedule. There simply wasn't enough time.
The clone shook it's head sadly, and took Celia's hand in her own, gently uncurling her fingers and placing the sheath into her palm. It closed her fingers around it and backed away, holding up something she had not expected it to have. In its hand, a chunk of something red and smooth glinted in the hallway light - dust. Fire dust. The crystal shattered and the clone shone with red light along its features, the cool blue of its various highlights shifting into a brilliant crimson. Its magenta eyes flashed with mischief as it backed up, and before Celia could react, it had shoved her into the room.
Or rather, it had struck her into the room, with a well-placed aura-infused strike to the chest. She had barely even had time to activate her own Aura before it hit, sending her flying back into the room, sliding across the floor on her back and coming to a stop a short ways away from the wall, maybe a few feet to the right of the room's other occupant. The clone shouted to her creator from the doorway.
"Make some friends! Or stop the noise - either way, do something! Quit wasting time!"
...met before? |
|
|
|
Post by Aegle Vitus on Nov 13, 2016 15:46:28 GMT -6
At the height of her anxiety and frustration, the second fracturing of the continents could have been unfolding around Aegle and she would have scarcely given it a glance. Her inattention had moved well beyond the scope of simple obliviousness and well into the realm of willful exclusion. That she didn't notice Celia, even as the girl argued with and was subsequently locked in the room by her clone, could only be accounted for by absolute and dedicated ignorance. She simply wanted nothing to do with any part of the world which lay beyond her wall and her music, and nothing short of one's removal would cause her to abandon her efforts. A flurry of blows played staccato on the wall as Celia slid across the floor, each landing faster and harder than the one previous. Then came the tell tail tearing and the accompanying smear of blood, and Aegle finally took notice of her surroundings once again.
It started only as the smaller girl pulling back from a punch to inspect her bindings, which her frenzied blows had worn away with sudden alacrity, and evolved into her taking complete stock of herself and her surroundings. She examined her other fist next, noted the thinning fabric around her index and middle finger, sighed loudly and started to turn towards her bag once again. Aegle stopped halfway though, as her emerald eyes fell across Celia's fallen body. At once, the frustration and irritation drained from her flushed countenance, and were replaced by a most uncommon expression for her cherubic features: Utter Surprise. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide, she gawked openly at the stranger, her bleeding knuckles and worn out bandages briefly forgotten. It was only a moment after Celia came to a halt that Aegle noticed her, and only a moment after that when the orange haired girl addressed the intruder, but the transition from surprise to concern was nearly immediate.
"Y'alright?" Aegle asked indelicately, taking little notice of the weapon in the stranger's hand, as she closed the small distance between them and extended her bandaged hand. Her face was the very picture and almost a parody of conscientious concern, as if she'd once seen the expression and had set out to do it better and more obviously. It couldn't have been more complete transformation, between the fiery and almost explosive anger of just a few moments prior.
|
|
|
|
Post by Celia Abbott on Nov 22, 2016 3:22:42 GMT -6
Her sudden entrance seemed to have at least drawn the attention of the other person in the room who, now that she got a closer look, was indeed another girl. She gently mused to herself how there seemed to be quite a greater number of females at the school compared to males, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on it for long. She had, unintentionally, ruined this girl’s training session. Regardless of whether or not she had done similarly to Celia, to interrupt someone for any reason just seemed in bad taste to her. The girl seemed completely taken by surprise, not that Celia especially blamed her. Before Celia could stammer out a reply, though, the girl spoke.
“Y’alright?”
As many recently had, the question caught her off-guard. Someone was concerned about her again, and while it was a surface-level concern at best, it was still concern and it still confused her. Slowly and hesitantly, she nodded. The girl held out her hand and Celia took it, using the extra leverage to pull herself up off the ground where she half-sat, half-lay. She got a better look at the girl on her way up.
She was...interesting. Her odd hairstyle, her bright clothing, and her bright eyes. Emerald green, clear as day, just like...she pushed the thought out of her head. Now wasn’t the time for reminiscing or dwelling on the past, it was time for the present. She tied her sword back onto her belt quickly, and gave the girl a quick bow.
“Sorry to interrupt your training.” Celia didn’t really meet her eyes after that, nor could she bring herself to continue. After doing something like this, she didn’t have much right to ask her to keep the noise down. Her clone, however, seemed to have other ideas.
“Alright, alright, everything’s fine now,” it spoke up as it sauntered into the room, glowing embers dancing around it like snowfall on a windless day, “We didn’t come here just to say “Hi” and “Sorry” did we, master?” Celia’s breath caught in her throat as the clone clapped her heavily on the shoulder. Even though it was her body, it always astounded her how much force the clone could muster for such a simple action. She looked away, and the clone scoffed at its’ creator, and turned its head to smile challengingly at the orange-haired girl. “Don’t mind her, she’s shy. I’ll say what needs to be said.” It pushed itself away from Celia, who protested quietly by attempting to grasp the clone’s arm, her eyes going wide as she realized what it intended to do. It stood, feet squared, hands resting at its sides, head titled with a smug grin painted across its features.
”We should fight.”
...met before? |
|
|
|
Post by Aegle Vitus on Nov 22, 2016 20:47:59 GMT -6
For as light and small as she evidently was, Aegle did not require so much as to brace herself as she hauled Celia back to her feet, imparting a bit more assistance in that exchange than had been strictly necessary on her part. With her thoughtless, almost subconscious act of altruism accomplished, Aegle's previously noted emerald eyes refocused upon the unexpected interloper in her midst. Things like scrutiny and suspicion and general perception might not have been in her nature, but her shortcomings in all these areas had never impinged upon her inherent and voluminous curiosity. So while she wasn't questioning what this stranger was doing in her midst, as any sensible person might have been, she was interested in who this stranger might be. Not that Aegle could divine much from examining someone, not even Celia's evident faunus heritage, suggested by her eyes and broadcast by her tail. All she saw was a girl with grey hair, and my wasn't that a strange hair color. Gold eyes too, Aegle also noted, finding them to be quite beautiful, though hardly suggestive of any underlying suppositions. The only thing that really did catch Aegle's interest, much in the same way a banner might 'catch' the wind, was the presence of what was unmistakably a weapon in her hand. A sheathed weapon, but a weapon none the less. That by itself didn't say much, of course; Weapons were hardly rare within the academy, less still in its training cells. Its presence did, however, stoke something within Aegle's presently affable and amicable disposition, something which at least alluded to the more dangerous and deliberately focused state she'd been in before Celia's interruption.
"Sorry to interrupt your training." The unfamiliar girl said, drawing Aegle's inquisitive gaze from her sheathed sword. Now where it might have almost been expected for Aegle, presented with so vital an opening, to question the stranger about the very interruption she'd just referred to, that was not the route which the orange haired girl took.
"Don't worry 'bout it." She replied careless, as if she hadn't been caught shouting and punching and kicking a wall in evident extremity. In fact, the absolutely offhanded manner of her conduct rather plainly broadcast that Aegle hadn't even considered that her previous outburst might have been witnessed. Neither was this sudden reversal of character evidently any sort of affectation or stonewalling. Rather, Aegle appeared and was wholly genuine in her vague dismissal of Celia's intrusion, as well as her ill defined pleasure at the stranger girl's appearance. It was less like she'd put on some sort of personable mask, and more like she had completely forgotten her frustration and anger in Celia's presence, like the girl's arrival had fundamentally distracted her from her very heated argument with the wall, and all the equally heated emotions associated with it. Indeed, she seemed to have become equally oblivious to the fact of her ripped bindings and the gentle patter of her blood onto the scuffed concrete at her feet.
Whatever Aegle might have said next, be it some interrogative comment about Celia's presence in what was clearly an cell already occupied by another student, or some other weightless and absent minded reassurance, she was interrupted before she could speak another word.
"Alright, alright," Said a voice both vaguely familiar and, at once, quite different, drawing Aegle's mercurial attention from Celia to find another Celia walking towards her. "Everything’s fine now."
Once again, Aegle wore an expression of vacant shock, quite clearly disbelieving of the unusual sight before her.
"We didn’t come here just to say “Hi” and “Sorry” did we, master?" the copy continued, and only it's reference to Celia as its master managed to break the spell of delighted surprise which had already begun to form on Aegle's face, to which the orange haired girl glanced quickly between master and creation. If Aegle's thought processes had a sound, the cell would have been filled with the dissonant rattle of simple clockwork as she looked quickly between Celia and her clone, followed finally by a singular 'ding' of realization. When Aegle's attention finally resettled upon the clone, which had been kind enough to walk up to Celia, that the orange haired girl might watch them both without comically glancing between them, her lips were curled in an expression both amused and impressed.
"Don’t mind her, she’s shy." The clone persisted, and it was only a nod, as lazy as it was perfunctory, which confirmed that the dumbstruck pugilist was, in any way, paying attention to what was being said.
"I’ll say what needs to be said." The clone said, pride radiating out from her, or it, along side the ambient heat of its fired infused body, "We should fight."
For several long moments, the clone's words hung in the air, like the trailing tethers of a fire built from green wood. During which time, all Aegle did was gawk and avid amusement and bemusement at the most uncommon sight arraigned before her, betraying all presumption that she might have actually been listening to what was said to her. Then, in a moment so obvious, students on the other side of the school were aware of it, everything seemed to click into place in Aegle's belabored and overwhelmed brain. It was at this point that her countenance took on an aspect to which it was especially familiar, unlike the expression awestruck surprise it was previously wearing or that of seething frustration it had worn less than a minute prior. A smile, so broad as to be visible from the top of Atlas Tower, exploded across Aegle's face.
"That is so cool!" She squealed, in a tone of childlike wonder, at a pitch that would have made most dogs howl with agony. At once, she surged forward, all previous exertion and fatigue forgotten, to closely examine the fiery facsimile.
"How're ya doin' it? S'gotta be yer semblance, right? That's so neat!" Aegle gushed, getting far closer to Celia's clone than would have been prudent were it a real person. "Gosh, that's so neat. It looks just like you~"
Reaching up, Aegle had been just about to poke Celia's clone right in the cheek, when the other penny finally dropped and a second metaphorical 'ding' sounded from within the vacant expanse of her mind.
"Hold on. Didja say ya wanna fight?" This question, incongruously, was addressed not to the clone, but to Celia herself. Then, looking back at the clone, her radiant smile broadened into an eager, nearly predatory grin. Taking a step back, the orange haired girl danced awkwardly on the balls of her feet. The whole time she'd been regarding Celia and then her clone, Aegle had not deigned to straighten out of the slight hunch which perpetually curved her back. As she danced in place and shook her hands out, it became increasingly evident that she couldn't. Further more, for so close up, it was impossible not to noticed certain other things about her posture and physique which her unusual fashion choices seemed specifically meant to hide. Her shoulders were crooked. Not greatly, but fundamentally, with one always slightly higher than the other. Further more, it was plain from the way she moved her feet that such physiological asymmetry was not isolated to the top half of her body. She was inclined to be pigeon toed and possessed of a strange kind of gait which suggested some deliberate and well practiced augmentation of her steps, like one or both of her legs didn't quite work the way legs aught to. Then there was the fact that she whirred. It hadn't been too apparent before, over the sound of her breathing and the rustling of her clothes, when she had been striking the wall. Now, however, as she practically bounced with excitement, the soft mechanical whispering beneath her clothes was wholly unmistakable.
"S'it gonna be both of you or just one?" Aegle asked brightly, as she performed a couple of rudimentary stretches, made strange by the atypical arrangement of the skeleton, all enthusiasm and raring to go despite the literal hours of prior abusive and self destructive training. She brought her hands up in imitation of a standing guard, threw a couple of test punches, having utterly forgotten the torn and ragged state of her bindings, then cracked her neck from side to side. All the while, she bounced on the balls of her feet, like she had energy enough to take on two or twenty opponents in a friendly fight.
"I don't have my Oupis with me, s'it okay if I just fight ya with fists?" Even in a school full of trained fighters, many of whom were learning to become hunters, Aegle's sudden enthusiasm at just the barest suggestion of a fight was abnormal, if not outright alarming. Especially seeing as most people liked to know the names of the people they fought, and Aegle hadn't even bothered to share her own name, much less inquire after Celia's. Fewer still were the huntsman who would willing eschew their weapons without knowing the rules or stakes of the fight in question, especially when their opponent was evidently armed. Still, Aegle took things one step further and asked, almost absently, "D'ya want me to 'hit'cha' hit'cha, or just 'play-play' hit'cha? I ain't so good at 'play-play', but I can try if ya don't want me sluggin' out yer aura."
|
|
|
|
Post by Celia Abbott on Dec 6, 2016 18:27:53 GMT -6
The silence that followed the clone’s challenge was long, and tense. Bright embers danced off the clone as it’s fiery aura flared around it, eager for a good fight. The breaking of said silence caught both the the clone and its master off-guard. The voice hurt their ears, and while Celia made no real movement, the clone’s eye twitched rather noticeably. Thankfully, though, the fire dust augmented Celia’s passion in the clone’s form, and not her anger, so neither one of them were particularly willing to chastise their soon-to-be-opponent for the volume and pitch of her unexpected outburst. The clone scratched idly at its ear, mostly to make sure it was indeed functioning, as its master stared on in mute shock while the situation continue to develop.
The strange girl’s expression was one of a child on christmas day, gazing in awe at the ribbon-wrapped parcels that sat comfortably beneath the colorfully lit tree. "How're ya doin' it? S'gotta be yer semblance, right? That's so neat!" Celia and her clone shared a glance between the two of them. The clone was certainly having second thoughts about having challenged this particular girl to a fight, and Celia was beginning to regret having not immediately left. The girl began to approach the clone, uncomfortably close, and reaching up. Instinctively, the clone leaned away a bit as the girl’s hand closed in. "Gosh, that's so neat. It looks just like you~"
Thankfully, she stopped before any actual contact was made. The situation was already awkward, there was no reason it needed to be made moreso. "Hold on. Didja say ya wanna fight?" Celia swore she heard a tiny bell go off somewhere as the girl’s expression changed as she backed off. What she was more certain of, however, where two very distinct things that came with the question itself. The first, was the quiet whirring that seemed to be coming from the girl as she moved away, coming and going almost exactly in time with her odd, awkward dance of movement. The second, was that the question had been addressed not to the clone, but to herself. Celia hadn’t issued the challenge, much less agreed to the fight at all, but she couldn’t just...back down. Most of the time, she trusted the track that the clones set her on. They were her, and sometimes more than her, but they knew their master well - and they wanted what was best for her. The flame clone...it had done this for a reason.
"S'it gonna be both of you or just one?" The girl’s addendum brought her back into the situation at hand, and she idly ran her thumb across the smooth sheath of her blade as she held it in her hands. The girl seemed to warming up for the fight, and it was at this point that Celia really noticed just how sharply the girl’s attitude had changed from earlier. Shortly after Celia had stepped in on accident, the girl had been yelling - though whether it was at the wall, or herself, she could not really tell. Now, though, she seemed rather happy and spry. It was certainly a far cry from the anger and frustration the voice had held before.
"I don't have my Oupis with me, s'it okay if I just fight ya with fists?" Celia stared, dumbfounded, and the clone tilted its head. Just what the heck is an ‘Oupis?’ Was that the name of her weapon? What even was her weapon? Well, it wasn’t like it mattered. The girl had just announced she would be fighting assumingly bare-handed, and if the glimpse Celia had gotten at her earlier practice was any indication, the girl certainly knew how to fight unarmed. Distressingly well, in fact. Celia nodded shakily, and considered her sword. Brawler though the girl may be, would it be right to fight against an unarmed person by using a weapon? Celia certainly preferred the sword and the bow, but Minette’s training had given her options for unarmed combat. At the same time though, it seemed a bit insulting, or at least disingenuous, to challenge someone to a fight and then assume you’re strong enough to face them at a handicap. At the same time, though...if the girl was fighting without her own weapon, would it really be seen as an insult if Celia opted out of her own weaponry? Maybe it would even be the “right” thing to do here?
"D'ya want me to 'hit'cha' hit'cha, or just 'play-play' hit'cha? I ain't so good at 'play-play', but I can try if ya don't want me sluggin' out yer aura." Well, it was decided, then. The clone made to speak up, but Celia cut her off. “Just me. I’ll be leaving my sword as well, to keep things fair.” The clone took the sword as Celia handed it to her, holding it awkwardly and looking to her as if it didn’t know what to do. Celia made her way to the other end of the room and turned herself around at about a third of the room away from the door, taking a deep breath and focusing her thoughts to psych herself up. “A proper spar would be nice, though. My Aura needs to be stronger, and the only way to make it stronger is to use it.”
She settled into her stance naturally, as she had done with her mentor many times before. It was low, wide, and gave both of her arms a good starting position to wind up for strikes or defend quickly, one arm bent with her fist closed just before her stomach, and the other bent up, fist, held close just out to the inward-facing side of her chin. “Whenever you’re ready.”
...met before? |
|
|
|
Post by Aegle Vitus on Dec 7, 2016 1:27:04 GMT -6
Aegle was almost disappointed when Celia decided to fight without her sword. Used to fighting without the Oupis as she was, it really wasn't such a big deal for her to go unarmed, and she very rarely had the opportunity to fight an armed opponent. She actually was disappointed that she wouldn't be fighting 'both' girls, because while she did get the occasionally opportunity to fight armed opponents, she never got to fight multiple opponents. Not even in school sanctioned sparring matches. Still, getting to fight someone, even if it was just one someone who was equally as unarmed as her, was much like getting to eat a bowl of icecream without syrup or sprinkles. There was nothing wrong with it, and it was a treat in its own right, just not as much a treat as it could have been. At least she wasn't expected to pull her punches, Aegle thought with mounting satisfaction. One out of three wasn't bad.
Holding her hands out at her side and bouncing on her toes, Aegle shook loose all the strain and pain that had built up over the course of her previous exercises. It was a bit bold of her to presume she even could have taken on Celia and her clone, much less with both of them armed, after hours of borderline abusive physical conditioning, but then Aegle could no longer feel the weariness in her muscles and tenderness in her bones. All of it had been washed out of her, along with the fury which had been their cause, with the prospect of getting to fight someone new and wholly unfamiliar to her. All that mattered now was the thrill of combat and the joy of getting to know someone in this most complete and intimate way possible. At least so far as she was concerned.
As Celia raised her hands and assumed her fighting pose, Aegle regarded her with an ever growing grin.
"Heh, I know that one." She said approvingly, before moving her hands to mirror her distant opponent's posture, though the slight crook in Aegle's shoulders and the irregular bend in her back precluded true mimicry. The parody took on a more bizarre extreme a moment later when Aegle's expression abruptly became one of the deepest consternation. Regarding Celia for a couple of seconds, she finally saw the problem and carefully switched hands and footing, so that she was no longer perfectly mirroring the taller girl, but actually matching her pose.
"Not a southpaw." The orange haired girl observed, grinning a bit sheepishly. Then, pulling out of the pose she'd so easily dropped into it, Aegle cracked both fists together and slipped into a new one altogether. A pose which had both hands up high, almost in line with her face, with her shoulders hunched so that her vertical forearms formed something of a shield before her.
"I prefer this one." Aegle told Celia openly, as if the two of them were comparing outfits rather than fighting styles, "Less kickin'."
Then, just like that, Aegle lunged forward into a full on sprint, as if she'd secretly been standing on a spring. As she took her first few steps, however, a confused look flashed across her face, followed abruptly by a look of realization.
"Wait, wait!" She called, throwing up her hands and skidding to a halt. "I almost forgot." Without waiting to see if Celia was actually waiting, Aegle reached over her shoulder and down the neck of her hoodie. Sticking her tongue out, she fiddled around for a couple of seconds, her hand hidden beneath her tattered garment, before her face lit up with satisfaction. With a flick of her wrist and a barely audible rising hum, Aegle retrieved her hand, smacked her fists together once again, and sank back into her fighting pose.
"There, much better..." She preened in her violin screech of a voice, with no indication as to what she was referring to, save the fact that, for the split second before she took off running again, she stood slightly straighter than a moment before. Resuming her charge as if she'd never interrupted it, Aegle moved far more quickly than might be expected. Certainly the awkward, half-limping lope which served her should not have been nearly so quick as it was, and she cleared the remaining distance between herself and Celia in under a second. As her headlong sprint brought Celia into range, Aegle lashed out at the taller girl with her leading hand, implementing the back of her fist like the flat of some invisible shield. As she did so, she brought her off hand back, using her exaggerated swipe to mask the motion, then lunged forward with an offhanded jab that traveled with the swing of her leading hand, hiding behind it. The result was a shieldless shield-bash, intended to batter aside defenses and stagger opponents, followed up seamlessly with a surprise lancing punch, delivered in such close combination that it was impossible to tell where one swing ended and the next began.
|
|
|
|
Post by Celia Abbott on Dec 13, 2016 7:26:00 GMT -6
The strange girl regarded her with a mix of emotions that Celia couldn't easily identify as she took her stance. It was strange, for both Celia and the clone, watching the girl's attempts to mimic her stance. Did the girl recognize her fighting style? That wouldn't surprise her in the least. If nothing else, this girl seemed well-versed in some form of martial arts, and Minette had told her that one of her two styles was very widely practiced in her homeland. Human though this girl seemed to be, Menagerie's history and culture wasn't exactly a secret. All it would take was a bit of time spent online or in a library, really. Celia felt woefully unprepared, especially as the girl switched to a stance not too unlike the one she had been in earlier, with her solo training. It created a good passively defensive stance, but it put her arms in a position to strike out quickly if need be...this girl certainly knew her stuff. As she kicked off into a sprint, Celia readied herself and-
"Wait, wait!"
Celia's body tensed when she heard the outburst, even for the second time. She didn't want to say her voice was "annoying," or "grating," but she was having trouble coming up with a word for just how much it shook her. "Distracting" would probably be her kindest bet. Still though, why the girl had called for a sudden stop was more of a passing curiosity, that is, until she reached over her neck and behind her back. Celia couldn't see what the girl was doing, but she could swear that some kind of white noise in the room got ever so slightly louder. She retreated her hand and returned to her fighting pose with a grin and a comment, forcing Celia back into a tense state before she was actually ready.
The girl charged and lashed out with her leading hand in a kind of backhand motion, which would probably hit spot on if Celia wasn't careful with how she approached it, not that she really had time to think. The girl was far more nimble than she had been expecting, and she was somewhat taken off guard. By the time The girl was upon her, she had to make a choice. Her body shifted ever so slightly, and her left hand bolted straight out and up to parry the backhand, but she hadn't been expecting the unseen followup.
The impact hit her left shoulder, and quite forcefully, but she went with the impact and rolled her body parallel with the girl's arm. Her left hand still outstretched, she brought the arm in to pin the girl's forearm against Celia's chest, and her right arm settled somewhat forcefully against the girl's upper arm, just short of the elbow. Immediately, her right arm slid across the girl's arm until the side of her palm rested along the girl's neck, and her left hand snapped up to the girl's underarm, and at the same time, she stepped forward and tried to settle her foot just behind the girl's leading foot. She gave a hard, snapping push, intending to force her away or, hopefully, send her sprawling to the ground. Whoever she was, this girl was fast and well-trained. In a straight up fight, Celia knew she couldn't win without some kind of tactic. She would have to try and play keep-away until she could come up with a better plan.
Still, that reminded her. "Hey," she spoke, a little winded from the sudden unexpected exertion, "I'm Celia."
...met before? |
|
