knightsoflegend | open ♔ valentine's day

[But what if someone steals his books??? Just kidding, he's going to bring his items with him when he goes to change.

Okay, so he'd much rather spend time with Skye in her proposed scenario - even if certain body parts are still very aware of her knees - over the staring at each other in silence option. He dog ears the page he was on (yes, he's one of those people) and sets the book down on the top of the pile, picks it up, and tucks it under his arm.]

Alright. I'll meet you in ten. [He assumes, she'll stand him up, because why would she actually follow through with this, except to kick his ass. Which, again, parts of him aren't so thrilled about this opportunity.

Regardless, he vacates the kitchen and heads to his room where he changes into something more training-friendly. A heather grey t-shirt and black track pants. He shows up roughly on time.]

[ Skye waits in the training room, pounding fists swinging the heavy bag by only millimeters on its chain, and she stops when he comes in. A part of her is surprised he takes her up on it, but a bigger part feels that it goes to show the levels he'll stretch to in order to achieve the nostalgia he's searching for. While he scrambles to regain something he lost, she has no problem taking advantage of that to let some of her frustration out on him.

She looks him over when he enters the room in a look that hesitates and lingers, like a hiccup straining her lungs and throat, but disgust catches up quickly enough; she doesn't greet him. ]

[He moves into the room, reaching for a roll of wrap. Unwinding a length of it he starts to wind it around his palms and wrist. Crossing over toward her, he offers her an honest glance.]

Is this where you tell me you won't be going easy on me?

Well, if I was going to before...

[ Skye narrows her gaze, cocks her head to the side with a snide look, and heads onto the mat, stretching her arms out now that it's been long enough since her full training session for her to lose fluidity. ]

[He lifts his head and offers a knowing, yet smug, smirk. He finishes wrapping his hands and moves to the center of the mat, twisting his torso briefly and then letting his wrists make small cracking sounds when he rotates the flex in his wrapping. He probably should warm up a bit more, but he doesn't want to keep Skye waiting for whatever beatdown she's looking to give him.]

One request - [He'll at least TRY for this.] Try not to knee me in the groin, again.

I'll try.

[ The forced smile she offers him comes with a shrug that joins with the emphasis on 'try' to say no promises. Before he can answer, she's on him (nat 20 init tho) and though she leads with her left, the stronger, more targeted flurry of well-targeted punches come from her right (atk 26, 22, 18 vs flat-footed/ dmg 5+16 sneak attack, 5+7 sneak attack, 5+13 sneak attack bc you gotta get that shit in while u got it, all nonlethal). ]

Edited 2016-04-06 04:28 (UTC)

[Well, right out of the gate that first hit connects. He takes a step back as the second one hits. Clearly, he's had enough and manages to dodge that last one. He's not sure if he should be proud that she managed to get the drop on him or upset that he didn't see that coming. Still, he moves for her leading with his right (atk 23, 9 | dmg 8, 5).]

[ The first hits, staggers her, and Skye gathers her wits about her just in time to raise a hand and knock the other easily out of the way. She then takes a beat to raise a hand to her lip to find that blood comes away from it on the side where he punched her. She tilts her head like it gives her cause to abandon any reservations she had and comes at him with a pinwheel kick—her first kick sails past his face (atk 17), but her foot plants on the ground and she brings her left up from behind her to strike him flat in the chest (atk 26, dmg 6). She tries to follow it up with a punch but she's off balance with her side to him as the final kick left her, so her cross-punch falls short and is possible for him to dip back from, though it comes too close for comfort (atk 20). ]

[As he watches her form come toward him, he leans out of the way of her foot keeping his eye on her as she continues her follow through. He tries to move for the second, but it connects giving him that momentum to barely move out of the way for her final attempt. He cants his head, catching the spot of blood on her and glances to this wraps, seeing her blood there on the surface. It's not something he likes to see and so he'll just stop aiming for her face. His posture crouches slightly, leaning into her space to go for her left side, then bring a second hit to her right (atk 28, 15 | dmg 6, 7)]

[ He catches her in the right side, but she shakes it off and blocks the second hit—just narrowly—with her forearm. Then she lifts her hand to strike him across the face while she's got him close (atk 25, dmg ... 1). She seems discouraged enough by the way he seems unfazed by that hit that her next two hits go wide (atk 14, 15) by quite a bit. Ward might be avoiding the face, but Skye seems pretty determined to make hamburger out of his. ]

[The slap, which is pretty much all it feels like, causes him to blink and watch as she continues to try and put her frustration and anger into her fight. It's interesting, because he knows she has a lot of anger, but she's clearly not doing a good job of filtering it down into something she can use. Once more he opts for lower hits, going to her left side then right (atk 27, 17 | dmg 7, 9).]

Focus on the target as an object, not as someone you loathe.

[ He's wearing her down, and it shows—enough that she can barely restrain her anger in the grind of her jaw and the glower in her dark eyes after she takes only one of the hits to the abdomen and grunts with the force of it. It knocks her back, and she comes back with … even more frustration that seems to spitefully ignore his advice to little success (atk 21, 20, 16). ]

[He reaches out and blocks each of her attacks, the expression on his face growing from one of trying to help her to one of concern. Her frustration is easy to see and the way she wildly attacks -- this isn't going to help her on any level. With his hands raised, he doesn't opt to strike back, instead he offers targets to her.]

Skye, focus on the object, not the person. [He sets his hands up for her to hit.] Be angry all you want; hate me with everything you have, but don't let that side win.

Edited (suddenly all bold....) 2016-04-06 05:16 (UTC)

[ Revulsion twists Skye's expression—the nerve, to act like he can stand here and mentor her. She has a teacher: Kali. She doesn't need whatever Ward's trying to offer her. Skye goes for him with an elbow to the face, but she trips. Her ankle catches and twists her and she winds up stumbling right between his spread hands into him, shoulder blade flat against his chest (crit fail). It's nauseating and familiar and hard to extricate herself from all at once (will save 12), so it takes her a moment to drag herself out of the contact.

It occurs to her—suddenly and resolutely—that it's going to take a sharp break. Her elbow drives back into his ribs (atk nat 20, 29 total; dmg 6). She steps away then, turning to catch him in the face with another punch that flies wide (atk 21). ]

I didn't ask for tips, Ward. [ But her breath is short and it's not just flustered from the fight. ]

[He draws in a sharp breath through his nostrils, a hint of his own frustration at her willfulness creeping through. He knows that she has someone to train her, he is well aware that clearly some of that training is working because she did come into this with a clear attack, but the longer they go at this the less focused she becomes and he knows that it's because of her. Her mentor can't train her for this, they can't simulate this sort of obstacle, because they won't understand where it comes from. The elbow to his ribs earns a groan from him, but it's short-lived as her follow up is easy to duck. He offered her his hands to hit and she still opted for the face. He's grateful that she didn't knee him when she was this close.]

Then don't listen to them, Skye. [That was a little catty.]

You can train all you want and listen to whoever is on the other side of the mat for whatever advice and tactics they can provide you. They did a good job preparing you for the fight, they just can't prepare you for this one. [He even points down to the mat, to signify that he's not being vague for fun.]

So, you can bottle it all up and refuse to listen or you can use this opportunity to get through that haze of being pissed off and actually hit me.

[ This pacifist refusal to fight back might be what irritates her the most—or so she thinks, until he starts talking again. Somehow, nothing manages to get under her skin and stoke the fire of rage in her chest like Ward running his mouth. So, thank you very much, she will bottle it all up and refuse to listen.

She comes at him again in a flurry of easily blocked hits that aren't even well-aimed, as though even if they did come near him, they'd glance off. Each one comes as a punctuation mark between breaths. ]

If you want to teach me a lesson so badly — [ Punch (13). ] stop talking — [ punch (15) ] and fight back! [ The last one comes as a kick that is practically begging to be caught at the center of his chest, it's so tired and poorly formed (atk 8). ]

[He's not asking to teach her, he's barely imparting a lesson here except trying to get her to shake off enough of that raw emotion that she's letting cloud every single thing she tries to do. Her insistence that she doesn't need his help isn't really convincing him as she lobs easy blows at him and then actually puts her foot somewhere near his chest to the point that he can take a loose hold of her ankle and then let it go.]

We aren't fighting, Skye. This isn't combat and I'm not looking to injure you until you give up. [Maybe she had thought that she could go that direction, but this isn't really landing in her favor as of late.]

You wanted to show me how your training has been going. [He again, focuses his gaze on her, intense and expectant. Both of his hands going back up again.]

So show me.

[ She staggers back as he drops her ankle to regain her balance. A special brand of humiliation turns her face hot—he's messing with her, and truthfully, she should have known he had that in him; she's seen Ward fight. But it needles her all the same because this isn't what she'd hoped she'd get out of him, this isn't stress relief, it's causing it.

But only because she's allowing it to. Begrudgingly, she allows herself to privately admit that he has a point about her unchecked anger blinding her, about her letting it get ahead of her in what should otherwise be a controlled sparring match with a concerted goal of some form of release (not, she's sure, the kind he's hoped for).

Although she takes a subtle, deep breath before coming at him again, leveling herself off and tempering that anger (though not subduing it entirely, she hasn't mastered that), she doesn't stop in her insistence for a real fight or at the very least a real sparring match. There's too much instruction in the way he tries to bait her into a passive show of her abilities, too much coaching, and she won't allow him that.

Instead, she comes at him with a kick to the outer side of his knee (atk 25, dmg 4) and follows it with a punch that whiffs past him because she expects him to have fallen from the kick but she's not able to take his leg out from under him effectively (atk 13). She course corrects, and her right fist comes up to catch him in the chin (atk nat 20, 24 total, dmg 8). ]

Edited 2016-04-06 05:57 (UTC)

[The first hit to his knee connects, but doesn't do that much to him that he has to worry about her attempt to sweep him to his feet. Of course, when she clocks him, it definitely gives him something to think about. His hand comes up to rub at his jaw, tasting the hint of blood on the inside of his cheek from where his teeth clicked hard enough to catch.

He looks at Skye and shifts his stance before coming at her again. (atk 21, 18 | dmg 8, 5) Attempting to go low against her frame once more, aiming for her ribs.]

[ Winded and slow, Skye allows Ward's first hit to land, but dances out of the way of the second—very narrowly. His fist whiffs through the air close enough to catch the loose fold of her t-shirt. She grabs for his hand, ready to twist and throw him if she can get a hold—but she telegraphs the movement, and bringing both hands around his forearm also opens her up to other hits (attack of opportunity provoked! if it misses (AC 19), her grapple roll is 22, which is an opposed melee attack roll). ]

[The moment she goes to grab him, he hits her where she's open (atk 28, dmg 9) and uses that to avoid being caught. He steps back a bit before going at her again (atk 31, dmg 8 | atk 24, dmg 4).]

[ It's the second-to-last hit that gets her, really, drives up into her abdomen and knocks her back off balance. Skye thuds to the floor in a haphazard spill of limbs, one palm slapping against the mat to catch herself and absorb some of the shock as she does. It doesn't help much, because the bruises aren't in her ass from the fall, but in the rest of her from one indisputable truth: Ward still has the upper hand.

She grunts with impact, props herself on her elbows looking up at him, knees bent and bangs pressed flat to her forehead with sweat. There's blood at the corner of her mouth, and she's sure beneath her shirt, bruises have already begun to form in ugly yellow patterns.

She does not move to get back up, breathes heavily as she holds his gaze, then strips off her gloves before she finally holds a hand up and out towards him, palm up, fingers splayed in a motion to 'stop.' ] I'm out.

[The moment she went down he took a step back and moved into a relaxed stance. His instinct to reach down and offer help is there, but he holds back, knowing that it probably wouldn't be well received. Instead he moves to grab a towel and offer it down to her. If she accepts that, he'll venture to the small fridge and grab her a bottle of water. He can hear how labored her breathing is - how she must have been holding it in through all of it.

He's impressed. Not to say that he wouldn't have been impressed before, but this is good. This is very good.]

[ Exhaustion grips her, a heavy weight that makes her lungs burn and her muscles ache. She doesn't feel impressed with herself: she feels like she's come up short, her pride as winded by the forfeit as her body is by the fight. Still, she reaches up to swipe the towel from his hand and wads it against her breastbone to drag sweat away from her neckline while she watches him pace away. The anger, as it turns out, isn't quieted by violence, only further incensed. ]

[He returns to offer her a bottle of water. Reaching down with it in his hand.]

You did good. [He pauses.] I'm sure that's not what you want to hear, but I still want to say it.

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