knightsoflegend | orientation ♔

[Scout hesitates for a breath, hazel eyes from him to the door, then decides that if he doesn't insist, she'll go first. This aspect is uncomfortably Master-Padawan to her; some knights and masters preferred to lead everywhere or walk alongside, others didn't care.]

I can show you some of it, sir. [She'll go through the door now. Doesn't hold it.] Much of what I do is - it can happen anywhere, anytime, but I do use the training rooms. When I wake up I go out and run. On alternate days I'll run more or focus on calisthenics. Otherwise there's not really a schedule.

['Led to believe', she thinks with grim good humor. Promising.] Sir? Is it not training to protect people?

[ He reaches for the door over her head, following behind her, after securing it tightly. ]

I meant that I'd like to see what you are physically capable of. You may demonstrate such in whatever capacity you see most appropriate.

[ As for her other answer... ] To protect whom?

Yessir. [The closest practice room is probably still her best bet. She wishes she had someone to spar with, whose technique she knows well.]

Those who can't protect themselves. [She frowns over her shoulder, breaking a concept into words.] Or... it's not that they can't, many of them, they aren't really helpless. But there are things that are too much or too... not what they know, and they need help.

And many of them Shadowkind or people affected by Shadowkind, without regard for ethnicity, affiliations, and so on. Yes?

[ Luckily, the spacious combat room is right across the hall! And mostly abandoned at this time. ]

Not inaccurate.

And of whom do you think our membership is comprised?

Shadowkind, those descended from Shadowkind, people like mages with particular talents. Again, without regard for affiliations.

[Scout glances around before she goes in, again not holding the door, and without missing a beat starts shedding outer layers of clothing to put on hooks. She wears nothing she can't either remove in two seconds or won't restrict her movements, but if this is a test it's better not to obscure her body.]

[She's naturally thin and has been undernourished for months, but has been eating more and working to build muscle again since arriving, though she's not particularly defined. Scout actually ate soon before reporting in, but lightly, so she's not bothered about that; still, she feels herself start to sweat as she considers her options. No one is here who she'd be comfortable asking to spar with an onlooker watching, and she doesn't care for most of the exercise furniture. Velocities? Forms? Or... surely not Jedi Flow. That's a game.]

[Surely not.]

[ He certainly doesn't seem about to offer up any suggestions at the moment, folding his arms, as he stands to one side of the room. ]

You're missing one group.

[Scout paces restlessly barefoot, bare armed, freckles on her shoulders, trying for a moment to redo her short ponytail lower, at the base of her neck. Her hair is slightly too short for that and some keeps escaping; she ties it tighter and decides it's enough for now.]

The people knights see and think could be knights themselves. That's the main thing actually, isn't it? Everything is dependent on that.

[There's a mat. Scout stops at the edge, hesitates, steps onto it, testing to see if it sticks to her feet at all.]

Not all of whom are Shadowkind, or even proficient in magic or "Shadow" arts.

Some of our members are human, born of this world, with no talents that mark them as anything more than determined and willing to learn how they might aid those from another world, or face threats that come from another dimension. [ he doesn't sound particularly impressed by these people; it's more of a matter of fact statement. ]

But as you say, all of them are bound by not only their desire to be here, but by the impression they leave upon us.

Not everyone's even a fighter specifically. Need not only those skilled in combat...

[that sounds like part of a quote or a paraphrase. Also it sounds distracted.]

[Scout's gone out into the center of the mat, bouncing slightly to test it. It's thin but springy, the kind of thing used for gymnastics or wrestling. It'll do, she decides.]

[Her posture changes subtly and she inhales deeply through her nose, holds it, exhales through her mouth. A great tenet of the Art of Movement, she recalls, is that physical action is the unity of breathing, motion, and alignment.]

[Jedi Flow had been a game when Master Yoda taught it. But when that class had graduated to Master Solace, who knew the Art to a depth matched by few, things had changed.]

[Maybe this can work.]

I can begin.

[ Solace begins to pace slowly along the exterior of the mat, not particularly focused on her, but glancing back up in her direction to nod for her to proceed. ]

[Another deep breath, and without falling or crouching, eeling her legs apart into a split, she's sitting on the mat and... writhing, to a casual glance. Stretching, contorting, balancing, moving her body in odd ways, tumbling and rolling and doing springing tripod moves.]

[She does a lot of things that would result in neck or spine injury if she wasn't both flexible and practiced. It does manage to get the tie out of her hair within a minute or so, and slightly kinked hairs promptly cling to her sweating neck and scalp and face, getting snarled as she keeps going, sometimes clearly getting pulled. Oddly, despite not looking where she's going most of the time, she avoids the tie completely when it's gone, moving around it but never touching.]

[Most of what she's doing is some kind of precision body flow routine, pitting her body against gravity. She also shows that she can fall, kind of ripple, and end up upright, and manages to spring to a standing position from all kinds of other poses. Scout does a couple back- and forward- flips at some point too, which seem weirdly out of place.]

[After about ten minutes, still breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth if harder than at the start, she ends with some elaborate bridge-threading, then springs to her feet, bows, and rakes her hair out of her eyes.]

[(It wasn't quite what the linked people did. She hesitated a little more at the start, though it got easier farther in. Her face was a mask of concentration at the start and she winced or scowled as her hair got pulled by the exertions, grunted and made noises in her throat from time to time, but by the end Scout was more serene. While she could do any of those moves, there was a kind of jerking lashing quality that came and went, especially at the start, more vigor than grace. Also she sweated through all of her clothes and left sweat in darkened marks all over the mat.)]

Permission to get a drink? [She didn't appear to have noticed the drinking fountain against the wall when she came in, neither did she seem to have looked around at all during the routine, but she's looking at it now.]

[ Within minutes of her routine, he's come to a halt at the head of the mat, watching her with critical interest, though he belies nothing of what his estimation of her skills is through his expression. A few other Knights heading in and out of the weapons training areas pause to watch and monitor her as well, some offering whispered commentary to each other, though he stills it all with merely a sharp glance in their direction, that sends them on their way before she finishes.

At her question, he nods. ] Granted.

Thanks.

[Scout leaves sweaty footprints along the floor. She's drenched, frankly. Drinking is a lengthy affair and involves splashing her face with cold water, and then she snags a towel to dry herself somewhat, fingercombing her hair as she comes back with the towel around her shoulders. She doesn't look any the worse for wear, aside from being more disheveled and amazingly sweaty. Not trembling with exertion, or slowed down, or stiff.]

[-actually, she seems more content, though she keeps from smiling while facing him. There's a reason why Jedi Flow is considered a game; it's difficult but, if properly done, exhilarating. Her nervous energy has been burned off, though she's still alert and has glanced at anyone else still watching as if to say "Well?".]

Do you need me to go over anything again?

I think that's quite satisfactory. [ He seems to consider before broaching a question. ]

You've been trained. That much is quite clear. [ It's obviously a question, as much as a statement. Who trained her, and to what end. ]

Yeah.

[She heard that question and stares at him and through him for long moments. The whites show around her eyes. What should she say? What can she say?]

[Eventually the Force in her murmurs. For a moment she could almost swear that Master Maruk stood behind her, saying something, but she can't quite catch it. Still, Scout exhales and steps closer to Sir Solace. She goes to one knee on the mat in a single Flow-like motion, and uses a finger to draw an insignia with her own sweat, then stares intently up at him, all senses alert, that hand near it so it could be smeared away an instant if there's a sudden strongly adverse reaction.]

[Is it godmodding to say there isn't? Because then she stands and speaks quietly, positioning herself so no one else would be able to see her lips moving. The symbol stays, slowly evaporating away on the mat at her feet.]

I'm... a member of an Order a little like this one, but much older. They took me in before I could walk. I... I was in a stage between being an initiate, a child, and achieving Knighthood.

We... well, abstractly we served peace and justice for all beings, we were peacekeepers, we served a higher power. In practice we... worked 'to protect those who cannot protect themselves', that... entire concept. Wherever we could make the difference, halt the conqueror, avert the war, reconcile the factions, find the lost, heal and teach and save... We did.

[Pride and agony builds in her voice, and it gets harder and harder to speak. Scout halts completely.]

[ There's no reaction whatsoever, given that Solace is hardly any kind of pop culture buff...

He seems more interested in her delivery than even in her response. ]

You find it difficult to speak of.

[She nods stiffly, eyes glazed. Scout's voice is half-choked and flat and her accent - vaguely Scottish, faintly British, distinctly neither - thickens to the point where it's a little hard to understand.]

Because I'm one of the last. We're all either dead or in hiding now. There are rewards for turning us in.

[Her eyes focus, welling overbright and burning. They're a moment from spilling over, but she doesn't look away or blink.]

Do you need the details. Sir.

Not unless you believe them necessary.

I don't.

[She passes the end of the towel that's around her shoulders over her face to cover it as she calls on her Jedi discipline, lowering it red-eyed but suddenly steady. Scout clears her throat. Her voice is overly brisk, she might as well be saying "Moving on".]

Another time maybe. Not now. This is another world, far from there, please don't bring it up unless you need to.

[Scout's stance changes, more hip-shot with one knee bent, and she hangs on to an end of the towel with each hand. It's the most teenagery thing she's done so far, though she still sounds focused.]

What will you be needing from me, as my mentor? Are there things I can help you with, sir?

We can always use assistants in the healing rooms... Our organization is too short on clerics these days. [ He offers no explanation as to why. ] But most of our relationship consists of my assisting you, in settling in to your duties here. Adjusting, as it were.

[As a non-healer that's likely orderly work, she thinks, but truth is that concept doesn't feel unfamiliar. Was she doing that before reaching this world...? Scout can't quite remember.] I'd like to do what I may. What are the hours and requirements?

Me? [That's as surprised as she's gotten today.]

You'll do well to work the late night shifts, tending to those who wake, and keeping watch on those recovering. Simple tasks, but we need the extra eyes and hands.

[ He glances at her, as if trying to decide what to make of her incredulity. ]

Do you find something wrong with that arrangement?

I can start tonight.

[Scout purses her lips, and uses a towel end to brush at her arm, where drying sweat is starting to itch.]

- You're a division head, sir. Surely you have more important things to do, if hea- clerics are so needed. I'm just a green squire.

Our green squires represent the future of this organization. If we don't tend to them when they're green, they'll rot through and through rather than thrive.

Yessir. But you said yourself you haven't taken a squire for a long time, and rumor is that division heads get asked rather than assigned. [She doesn't name Sir Fred as the source of the "rumor".] I'm not a healer.

[While she does have a kind of low sense of self-worth, she says it without self-pity. It's a plain statement.]

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