Court of the Fallen
[Training] [se] carry your own - Printable Version

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[se] carry your own - Melita - 05-07-2020

The waves called and called, and she stood by their ferocity and deigned to add her own. Beside the swells of surf and shells, the honeybee girl practiced, practiced, practiced, finally beginning to unite precision with tempestuous fierceness and mercurial might.

For once, they weren’t shapeless, haphazard movements laden out in disarray. Her daggers and staff laid out along the sand, next to the steadfast, guarding Fangorn; in case she felt the need to snag at them later. Presently, it was her fists and legs that flew. As if there was an imaginary opponent, a worthy adversary before her, the youth thought back to the tactics Hotaru had taught her. She breathed, winding an arm back to toss a punch that might’ve caught a knave’s throat. She inhaled, swinging out a foot that might’ve landed, plunged, and pounded into a demon’s abdomen. She exhaled, grounding herself into the molten earth, before the pretense of shoving an adversary into the dunes, and mockingly stomping upon their frame.

Thereafter, Melita turned back towards her gourd companion, who managed to gaze at her with sleepy expression. [say]“Didn’t watch a thing, huh?”[/say] She snorted at the pumpkin, before bending down to scratch the top of his head.


RE: [se] carry your own - Zephyr - 05-07-2020

[say]"Not a bad show, kid!"[/say]

The voice drifts up from the water, where you squat in the shallows, submerged to your chin. You'd been out for a swim when you noticed the familiar figure practicing her combat maneuvers on the sand. Good form all around, you'd noted with appreciation, inching closer to the sand. Great balance, and so much fire.

But what about when it's doused?

Shifting so you're on your knees, you flash Melita a rare, sun-bright smile. [Say]"Reckon y'might be able to teach an old dog like me some new tricks?"[/say] You've a soft spot for youngsters, especially those who have a bit of fire to them. They make you think of what Ray might've been, if only he'd had the chance.


RE: [se] carry your own - Melita - 05-07-2020

The girl hadn’t expected vocals coming from the water, incapable of comprehending just how long he’d been there, and the simultaneous jump along her skin made her laugh and shake her head thereafter; foolish for not perceiving her surroundings better. She raised her head, her frame, from its bent position near Fangorn, turning her cranium over her shoulder to regard the individual lingering amongst the surf.

Melita recognized the form at once, Zephele, of the smuggling variety. In some bizarre facets and speculations, she thought him familiar in other ways; a comforting existence despite the trivialties behind their occupations, but the youth couldn’t quite figure out how or why. So instead of furrowing her brow and contemplating it for far longer than necessary, she inclined towards the man submerged, tiptoeing along the sand. [say]“I can try.”[/say] A wild, nefarious, wolfish smile sprung along her lips, one of those untamed little things that sunk into her blood. [say]“What do you want to do?”[/say]


RE: [se] carry your own - Zephyr - 05-16-2020

Still bobbing like a demented buoy, you once again smile at the girl, pleased by her willingness to indulge an old man. As she nears the water you rock back on your heels, your body still submerged (the air's cold by comparison, yo), waiting to see if she'll come in further or if she's wisely going to remain on the shore.

[say]"Well... yer a sailor now, right?"[/say] If she's part of Jack's crew she certainly will be. Extending your arms to keep yourself balanced, you creep a little closer to shore. [say]"Y'got good form outside'a the water, but whaddabout in it? If y'wind up off the boat can y'fight t'keep yerself afloat- an' alive?"[/say] It is a serious question, and your face and tone convey that. A healthy amount of respect for the ocean and maneuverability within is necessary to survive a life at sea.


RE: [se] carry your own - Melita - 05-16-2020

She listened, feet sinking into the sand, muscles fine-tuned, ready, fervent, ardent for any ferocious undertaking. Oh, she could indulge, but to her own benefit, her eyes glancing over the water, before meandering back to Zephyr, who’d been driven closer towards the shore, but certainly not out of the sea. Her brow arched again, curious, inquisitive, nodding her head in response to the first query, and once she listened to the explanation, could understand its accord. What could she do if she managed to flail and fall off the boat? She didn’t want to end up like others, taken in by the waves, by ghost whales, sunken into maws and mouths of the fathoms – consumed, devoured. She craved to be the one that demolished and desecrated, and had no intention of winding around into parallels. Best to be prepared in all capacities; like she had with Hotaru, when weapons may not be beneficial.

Of course, she had other abilities at her disposal.

[say]“Sure. We can do that.”[/say] On acceptance, on the brimming, bristling nod of her fire-edged head and locks, her devilish smile etched its way along her lips, and she stepped onto the water. Giving no indication that this wasn’t anything out of the realm of normalcy, that people normally presided above the waves, the current tickling toes, the youth hastened back her sleeves, regarding a fighting pose and stance. [say]“Ready when you are!”[/say]


RE: [se] carry your own - Zephyr - 05-21-2020

Okay, so you can walk on water. Big friggin' woop.

Nah, Zeph, let's be real- you're as jealous as a crocodile, watching her with a bit of awe as she strides atop the surface. [say]"Neat trick, kid,"[/say] you remark with a whistle, bobbing a little deeper into the water with your head still aloft. [say]"Gonna' hafta teach me that one after we're done here, eh?"[/say] You wiggle tour eyebrows playfully, but before she can respond you've taken a breath and disappeared beneath the water, your salt and pepper hair forming a little whirlpool before being devoured by foam.

Your plan is to keep below long enough to tempt her further in (on?), into arm reach. You can hold your breath for nearly three minutes, and though it stings like a bitch, you've kept your eyes open underwater often enough to be able to withstand the pain.

Of course, if she doesn't come close enough to grab her by the ankle, you'll have to just rise back up - with a mouthful of water to spit up in her direction, and two broad hands ready to splash her and hopefully cause a good level of surprise.


RE: [se] carry your own - Melita - 05-22-2020

A smirk broadened across her lips; the grin further embellished by Zeph’s whistle and remark, a shrug to her shoulders indicating she wouldn’t be revealing too many secrets today. [say]“Maybe,”[/say] was a throwaway line, but then she had nothing else to provide or preside, as the man dove beneath the depths, and she was forced to glide along the surface, watching, waiting, attempting to see him through the veneer below her feet.

The movement of the current and the hues of his hair made it difficult to catch his location – even if Fangorn was grumbling and hissing something from the shoreline. She ended up completely back-to the man, narrowed eyes riveted along the surface, maneuvering constantly to strive, to catch, but in the end she was splashed (and spit upon) all down her back. A gasp of surprise rushed through her, because the water was still cold, and shudder of undulating movements and motions exploding from the frenzy.

She did laugh though, because everything seemed a bit ridiculous (her favorite mode of mayhem, antics, and lifestyle). The honeybee youth shifted, turned, back towards him, and kicked a wave of water in his direction, hoping to send a wide volley in vengeance.


RE: [se] carry your own - Zephyr - 05-23-2020

Well, you don't grab an ankle, but you do make a splash. When your head pops back above the water it's just in time to douse Melita's back, the ocean water rising up from your hands and mouth and dousing her thoroughly. As the brine leaves your mouth you grin broadly once more, laughing deeply in a warm bellow that rises over the crash of the waves.

You're still laughing when the water crashes into your face, causing you to sputter as your laughter changes to coughs, your body shifting backwards in the water, arms splaying out to keep you from going under. Falling onto your back on the surface, you kick up with your legs, trying again to upseat her from the ocean by unbalancing her with your kicking feet.


RE: [se] carry your own - Melita - 05-24-2020

At least their skirmish thus far had been embedded and infused with laughter, as opposed to crashing, embittered dominions, rushes of vehemence, vitriol, and abhorrence. She’d had those before, an eternity of flaring oppositions and rancorous edges, and wasn’t certain which she preferred. The bestial, siren throngs, or the softer, lighter, contortions, where one could coil, think, and still not risk being buried in their wrath?

Melita watched, very briefly, as Zeph’s sputtering coughs turned into movements onto his back, and for a second she was confused, bewildered, tilting her head –

And then his legs kicked upwards, knocking at her knees, and she didn’t have any other way to prepare herself except to embrace for the inevitable. Her balance skewed, she toppled, arms extended out in instinct, and the rush of water cascading over her hid her warm tidings of absolute laughter.

Then the girl was above the surface again, head bobbing over the veneer, the anklet’s powers and contortions gone. Even playing fields now, maybe, depending on experience and wits. So the honeybee thought to kick at him from underneath, but goodness her legs, her feet, were so much slower, cutting through swathes of water, that she wasn’t sure if it’d reach his back at all.


RE: [se] carry your own - Zephyr - 05-26-2020

Timber!

You laugh in triumph as the girl falls, joining you under the surface of the waves and, remarkably, not clambering back up. Your arms carry you backwards, giving her time and space to find her bearings as you bob above the water, your expression bright with a rarely seen, boyish grin. There's no point in denying your relief at her resurfacing - this is all for fun, after all - and you step on the bottom, coming near to make sure she's steady before acting out again.

An unnecessary action, as it turns out, and one that gives her the freedom to make a sneak attack of her own. Slow as her legs may be in the water, your stance isn't the steadiest (though steadier than most), and the girl's heel collides with your shin in what would be a comical slow motion crash, if only it were visible beyond the salt and foam.

[say]"Aye, well landed,"[/say] you exclaim, bouncing away, your body feeling weightless in the water. [say]"But careful - if yer shallow 'nuf t'stand, y'don' wanna' give up that footing. Otherwise..."[/say] And, suddenly springing upwards like a goddamn ballerina, you attempt to land your hands on her shoulders and push her backwards off her feet.


RE: [se] carry your own - Melita - 05-26-2020

She took the compliment where she could, feeling out of her element despite natural tendencies towards the water.

But she’d never fought in it; only swam, only cajoled, only wreaked havoc. A learning curve all on its own, and the youth had been rightfully shocked that her maneuver even landed. Everything felt slowed down, tumultuous, tempestuous, too many other factors and factions at play. This wasn’t a familiar brink like her staff, her bow, her knives, or even her newest short sword.

Which made it great.

Until he seemingly launched, and she stared wide-eyed as he drifted above, and then sunk upon her shoulders. Feet unsteady and unstable, she shifted immediately downward, back into the brink. Not without fight or peril, and choking somewhat on a lack of air, below the surface, intermingled with the splashes and footfalls, the girl rampaged with fists, intending to launch them into his chest, legs kicking in attempts to regain composure on the sand below.


RE: [se] carry your own - Zephyr - 05-29-2020

You have no intent of drowning or harming, only proving a point, helping her understand how to move in the sea. Her blows land squarely enough on your stomach, eliciting a mild oof but doing little real damage given the impact of the water. By then you've already released her, anyway, again bouncing back on nimble feet and giving her space to rise up above the surface, time to catch her breath.

[say]"That was good - ya held steady - but instead'a fightin' with yer fists, y'gotta make use'a what you got. The water, an' how it changes weight."[/say] Very Yoda, you insufferable old goat. [say]"Here, yer turn t'come at me. I'll show ya what I mean."[/say] Squaring your feet on the shifting bottom (and swaying as a wave presses against your shoulders) you wait for the little firebrand to strike, anticipating a retaliatory blow similar to your own.


RE: [se] carry your own - Melita - 05-29-2020

Something about the motions beneath the water, the sensation of suffocating, the tremors of another world, another place, gnashed, ground, and weighed down upon her. Panic surged and seethed through her blood, and if she could’ve screamed beneath the waves she would’ve, howling and unfurling, unwinding in her apprehension, incapable of understanding how or why. She’d always been at home in the ocean. She’d always been fond of its power, of its predilections, and now she was overwhelmed, collapsing on its essence, bound into the dirges of its expanse, chest beating a siege, everything burning, burning, burning –

And then she was released, feet kicking, sputtering above the surface, water mixing with the sudden barrage of tears streaming down her face, lungs spasming, choking on much-needed air. Her palms dashed away the frenzied, hysteric range of salt, as she struggled and strived to catch her breath. [say]“Sorry,”[/say] she winced, uncertain what she was apologizing for, because she should’ve been ready, should’ve known, should’ve understood the weight of all these things.

The girl shook her head and she could heard Fangorn calling from the shore, a handwave confirming she was all right.

But gods, she should’ve been better than that.

The sea had been a sanctum, a refuge, not a harbinger of doom, death, or destruction, and somewhere in the midst she’d forgotten, hadn’t realized, had thought herself better than its prowess. Somewhere his words were echoing, and she fought in the haze to reach for them, snatch, grab, and understand, shaking her head, clearing, clarifying.

Concentrate. She needed to concentrate.

The youth tried to adhere to what he said, but everything felt listless, as if her brain had shut down completely. A raised chin settled in for makeshift defiance, but she didn’t feel it in her bones anymore. She tried to square her feet, to reflect the motions, and garnish strength through her limbs, but it was likely lost as she attempted to launch upon his shoulders as he’d done to her.


RE: [se] carry your own - Zephyr - 06-01-2020

There's the briefest moment when she comes up for air and you fear you've gone too far. Sputtering, coughing, her face a mask of some shock you cannot understand or answer. Did you hold her too long (it was less than a minute), shove her too hard (the water should have held your weight)? You remember watching Ray tumble through the waves and come out sobbing because he'd been caught in the undertow and held down longer than expected.

But then, he'd always run back in again.

And that's what Melita seems to be doing, the shadows fading from her eyes as she once again readies her stance. You want to stop and ask what happened, to make sure she's okay- but she isn't your child, isn't a child at all, and if the young woman wants to keep going you are not going to tell her she can't. You lift your lips in a smile at her defiance, planting your feet and preparing for her to strike.

And when she does, instead of fighting against her with fists and blows you let her weight be her own undoing, sinking down beneath the surface as far as you can before pushing up and back. The hope is that it will unsettle and unseat her enough for her to let go, that she will not want to place her own head above the water in pursuit of you - and that if she does, she will lose her footing and be taken off-balance as you surge back up again.