[Training] life in prism

Everest

'Training with your dads would be much too intimidating, I think.' Ever explains giving his head a little shake, in response to the botanist's question of why Remi and Ronin couldn't be the ones to do this training. "And if they were here, Ronin at least would likely gather a crowd and...well I would prefer to not have that happen." Hence why the aviator had dragged them out to the nothing end of the once prominent road into Stormbreak.

"Besides, if anything I just want to be better about the possibility of being touched, especially in a combat situation." When last he'd been in any sort of encounter that required fighting on his part, he'd been stabbed by a mad man. That it had healed him was still a factor that didn't resonate with Everest at all.

I've done the math, checked the facts
And there's no changing that

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"I understand," Mateo says with all of the resignation of a man who does, in fact, understand, but who does not like this fact. The tail end of Longheat brings with it no less heat considering its the closing of the season, and sweat already jewels his brow as he shifts the definitely-innocuous looking cane over his shoulder. "Do you envision being in many combat situations?" he wonders with a tilt of his head.

Once they are far enough from the hustle and bustle of the Citadel, Mateo falls to a halt, wipes his brow with a brightly coloured handkerchief, and hops up to take a breather on a floating piece of rock. "I am more of a lover than a fighter," he warns, though Ever will be more than aware of that fact. "So I am glad you are not expecting to necessarily get better at fighting."

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

Everest

'I don't, no. But then, I hadn't expected to be in one during my last trip to the Greatwood, but there I was.' He says with a shrug of his shoulders. Caido was nothing if not high in danger, making the probability of finding oneself in combat situations more than likely despite efforts to the contrary.

Considering for a moment as he falls alongside Mateo, Ever looks almost sly for a moment as he gazes up at his friend. "I suppose that would make me more of a fighter than a lover, since.." Well, since he had in fact fought before (poorly), and had never loved in any real sense.

"You at least know the mechanics of fighting better than I do." At least Everest thought so, given how much time Mateo had spent among the dragoons when his father was in charge. Though perhaps he'd overestimated whether or not his friend had actually been paying attention. "I thought even if we just started with you trying to hit me-" Ever nods at Mateo's abomination tentacle staff. "And I could just try and move out of the way?"

I've done the math, checked the facts
And there's no changing that

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Mateo supposes his friend makes a very good point there, and on that note, maybe it wouldn't be so bad for him to brush up on his (non-existent) fighting skills himself. Ever is right, though, in that he absolutely wasn't paying attention to anything dragoon related - especially the closer to the war they got, when Mateo had actively rebelled against being made into a potential new recruit.

"Hey you said it," he quips with a grin at their apparently official lover-fighter dynamic, the botanist climbing to stand on his floating rock and nodding along with the other boy's idea. "That sounds simple enough. Alright, do your best to dodge this." The this in question, of course, is a pathetically direct attack, Mateo reaching out with his tentacle rod as if to bonk or grab Ever with the writhing appendages.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

Everest

'I did indeed.' Ever agrees, before taking a few steps backward until he judged he was a fair distance away.

Dodge the aviator does, though it's entirely up for debate whether this is a success on his part or a failing on Mateo's. One might think even a blind idiot could dodge such an obvious strike, but given the two men currently sparring...well, evenblind idiot might be a bar too high.

Regardless, the aviator is able to move out of the way of the tentacles, much to his relief. 'Success!' Ever cries, sounding appropriately pleased. It's a very good thing that there are no other dragoons around, because the lunacy of Mateo with his tentacle rod and Ever sounding overjoyed at having literally backed up out of its reach, is a sight that neither of them would be allowed to live down any time soon.

I've done the math, checked the facts
And there's no changing that

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Listen, some men are born to be soldiers, and some men are Mateo Taliesin and Everest Hart. Give them some credit - they've got to start somewhere. For Mateo's part at least, he's just as pleased as his friend that he's been able to dodge out of the way, though the ominous writhing of his tentacles suggests that they are not quite as thrilled.

"Perfetto!" He grins, hopping down from the floating rock and turning to face the aviator a second time. "Alright, try this one!" He says it as if it's going to be any less terrible than the first attempt, and Mateo looks more like he's dancing than trying to strike as he reaches out again with his 'weapon' - wink... wonk?

Anyway. Bippity, boppity, tentacle rod!

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

Everest

Sexual innuendos abound, alas they are utterly lost on young Everest who is doing his utmost to avoid his friend's writhing strike. Whether it's Mateo's sweet, sweet dance moves that secure him this particular point or the fact that Ever can't seem to take his eyes off of the tri-tentacle mass moving his way, this time the botanist's strike hits.

Trying his best not to yelp—the strike doesn't hurt but the immediate need to run home and wash his clothing as well as his entire body is suddenly quite strong—Ever shakily nods before stutter-stepping back. "I don't like being touched by that." He says in a low voice, eyeing the writhing rod unhappily. If ever there comes a time that Everest finds himself in a sexual encounter, no doubt this moment will flash unhappily before his eyes. How will his body respond to such a reminder? Well, maybe one day we'll find out. Until then, the aviator tries to mentally shake off the botanist's last strike.

"Okay, ready."

I've done the math, checked the facts
And there's no changing that

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"I am not entirely sure that it likes touching you either," Mateo says in the rod's defence, though he's saying it entirely for Ever's benefit - it absolutely does enjoy touching the aviator. Still, Mateo isn't a monster, and he sidesteps around a bit as he waits for his friend to get ready. And this time, rather than going directly in for a tenta-tickle, he reaches out with the rod, allowing the writhing appendages to grasp a hefty rock.

Whipping the stone forward, the tentacles release it to send it sailing towards Ever's legs and feet; if it does miraculously hit, hopefully it should only catch him on the calf or something. (Again, though, the likelihood of it is by luck rather than design at this point).

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

Everest

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Ever wonders. In most instances not wanting to touch someone is meant to be an insult, though in this context and with a semi-sentient object, he really has no idea.

Watching the rod pick up a stone (insert vomit-gif from New Girl here), Everest thinks he can judge precisely where the tentacle is going to throw the stone. It's just basic physics after all, and so he tells his legs where to move his body so to avoid the stone. Not unlike in moments of playing League where you absolutely rush into Lux's ult or Janna's tornado even when you can see them fucking coming, Ever actually manages to move precisely into the path of the stone, instead of avoiding it.

'Ow! F-nnnn.' It's as close to a curse as the aviator will likely ever come, and as he clamps his teeth around the end of the word, he leans down to rub at his shin. 'This is much harder than I would have thought.' He mumbles, already vowing to bring his notebook to the training grounds the next day to observe the dragoons.

"Let's do one more." Ever decides with a small frown.

I've done the math, checked the facts
And there's no changing that

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"Ah, merda!" Mateo curses as he sees Everest move into the path of the oncoming rock, and he's already wincing and stepping back as if he can avoid the hit on his friend's behalf. "Mi dispiace tanto. Perhaps I should save picking things up for another time. Like when you are wearing armour." Resisting the urge to call everything off and go to check on Ever, as the aviator insists he wants another try, Mateo nods.

"Alright, but I will try again with this," he says, waving the rod (it waves as well, which is likely disconcerting for anyone who isn't Mateo). Taking in a long, deep breath and letting it out again, the botanist lunges forward, actually seeming a little better at it as he aims to touch Ever on the shoulder.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

Everest

There's probably a very telling correlation between the phrases of the travelling tongue that Everest has come to understand and his relationship with Mateo. Maybe that's what's on Ever's mind when Mateo reaches out, because based on the roll the botanist appears to be moving in slow motion such is the obviousness of his attack.

The tentacles slorp out, twining together so that they can all clump as one against Ever's shoulder. Stroking it rather salaciously Ever feels the blood rush from his face, feeling both lightheaded and dizzy in response to being stroked. Even on top of his clothes, it's too much for him. "Nope." Shaking his head, lips pulled into a frown and stutter stepping backward, the aviator has had enough. "Nope, nope, nope." He continues insert danny davito gif here.

"Luckily being either a lover or a fighter is a false dichotomy." He says, looking very pale. "Because I am neither."

I've done the math, checked the facts
And there's no changing that

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Feeling surprisingly good about how his impromptu training has gone, Mateo's smile is nonetheless already fading from his lips as he realises how done his friend is with the proceedings. Quietly berating his tentacle rod in the travelling tongue and telling it sternly to behave, the botanist puts it away and raises both hands placatingly to Ever. "Not necessarily," he says, trying for reassurance. "Perhaps you are just ill-equipped to fight and/or love tentacles."

Is he helping? Is he making it worse? Keep digging and find out, Mateo.

"Which is probably quite wise," he continues, "given how deep in the ocean they live. Shall we start walking back to the city? I am certain there are no cephalopods in Stormbreak, for what it's worth."

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

Everest

Blinking hard at this logic, Everest finds he has no words with which to reply such is the static-y fuzz coating his every thought. Anytime his mind tries to solidify his thoughts into something coherent, tentacles reach out, touching and writhing and pressing, such that he utterly loses his hold on the contents of his mind and nearly on the ability to keep walking in a straight line.

"Mmmmm." He manages uncertainly, suddenly imagining all of the buildings reaching out for him with Lovecraftian fingers. 'I don't know how Ronin does it.' Ever adds shaking his head slightly. He didn't know how most people managed most things to be fair, but given just how tentacle-y Remi could be, the aviator couldn't even fathom how the Supernova dealt with it. Of course if he knew even the half of it, he'd probably die.

~FIN

I've done the math, checked the facts
And there's no changing that