[closed]

[erbier]

CHARACTERS: Ilde, Mara, Batman
WHERE: Concordia
WHEN: DAY 33
SUMMARY: This is a training montage
WARNINGS: There's some violence and a tad bit of gore.

She has to go digging in Angel's clothes for 'athletic' wear. It is not a term Ilde particularly understands or even agrees with, but it seems that it would be best to follow Mara's instructions, for the time being. Still, any fight she gets in to... she is likely to be wearing a dress, why not practice in one? She only grumbles a little as she pulls into one of Angel's pairs of stretchy leggings with its panels of mesh. She pokes around for a shirt as well, but finds it more difficult to find a fit. She finally determines something that will have to do and goes to meet Mara on the rooftop. The rooftop of their building was the best compromise to be found. Perhaps somewhere isolated in the industrial district, but then it would have been the pair of them isolated on the far side of the industrial district. If something went wrong it could be troublesome. Besides, others have already used the rooftop for their fights. She's already had to move some of the plants into safer locations.

It's her turn. She is not so much nervous as excited. She has never had anyone like Mara in her life. There had rarely been other women, at all, once she began to live in the palace.

Even fewer, after Camille had been found a witch.

The blast of cool air as she comes out onto the roof removes that thought from her. It also catches her hair and blinds her for a moment as she moves to take control of all the long blonde locks and tie them up. She uses the same bit of twine she's always used to knot off the end of the braid.

Comments

[snaphiss]

The roof of the bearings is a fine enough place to spar. The floor is hard, and won't break Ilde's fall, but Mara's never been interested in being coddled, and assumes Ilde will feel the same.

She's been practicing with the link since she got here, trying to strengthen it without getting too lost in the flurry of emotions the Nest provides. She's been successful so far, and can manage to send simple thoughts and feelings without showing her hand. When Ilde arrives, she sends a spark of approval at her choice of dress, and how she's tied back her hair.

And that's all the interest she has in pleasantries.

"You said you killed a boy. Tell me how you did that." They may as well start with what Ilde knows, and Ilde didn't seem too shook up about the killing. Might as well jump right into it.

[erbier]

After all the disapproval her actions had received, it is very strange to hear someone actually curious of the technique of it all.

"I cut his throat," she says plainly.

A curved motion, mostly upward but with an inward angling, and then a sharp flick of the wrist at the end when she had pulled the knife back out: sliding the blade in under as much as she could and then twisting and ripping it out the side.

It was not a warning shot. She had intended to kill him, quickly and efficiently, and to shock his friends still watching her with the blood. It had worked out exactly as she had thought it would.

[snaphiss]

Mara cocks her head to the side, a halfway between amused and annoyed. "I assume he didn't just stand there and let you. How did he approach you, how did you approach him? I want to know what you're already good at."

Still, this is good information to begin with. She clearly has some experience with self defense, perhaps more than she's let on, if slitting someone's throat is such a practiced motion for her.

[erbier]

"He did not, but I did surprise him. He was not ready."

One could possibly argue then, that it was not self-defense, but Ilde doesn't know why she should wait for someone already being aggressive towards her to initiate physical violence. She would rather make the first move.

"I approached them to trade, their prices were low, and I left after informing them of such. They followed me and did not keep their distance when I turned, thus I struck."

This was all extremely normal behavior in the burned world. Violence was not a suggestion, it was always coming and as a child there was no one protecting you. You saved yourself or you were eaten, possibly kidnapped by a bandit, possibly just killed and left to rot in the wastes.

To Ilde it is self-defense, and she doesn't exactly care what anyone else says about it.

"I am quick, and I do not hesitate," she finishes with. That is what she is good at.

[snaphiss]

Mara nods, slow. Were she not so biased in favor of her fellow prisoners (a preferable way to think of it, rather than this girl, who is like me), and so biased against those in charge, she'd reconsider Ilde's story. But at the moment, she only nods and continues listening.

"Then that's what we'll focus on. You're small, but I was small at your age." Standing at an imposing five foot two inches, it's not hard to imagine. "You need to get one or two good strikes in before anyone else. Do you know how to stand?"

[erbier]

She takes a stance, turned slightly to the side, weight heavier on her back foot. The slight turn protects her center from a direct strike, the lighter weight on her front foot would free her to pivot or kick as necessary.

"The Prince had some suggestion to that."

She does not take the stance as squarely, as crisply, as he had shown it, but she sees a value in feigning looseness, it was how you stopped an enemy from knowing you were coming.

[snaphiss]

"Then he's not completely worthless." She hasn't met the man, but anyone in charge of this operation has her ire. She steps closer, taking the opening stance, her arms in front of her with hands balled into fists.

"Do you know how to block?"

[erbier]

"Not well, it is not my preference to engage directly, or prolonged," said without any snottiness, she is happy to learn it, she is merely being honest about her current perceptions.

She watches Mara's hands carefully, warily. She knows they are training, but all of her survival instincts flutter at a level she can't quite control, a low thrum of fight or flight.

[snaphiss]

"Good," she says. "You're not strong enough to block. What you want to do is catch."

She looks at her hands, and then Ilde's. She's never taught this before, and isn't sure how, but perhaps a demonstration won't get her point across? Hm. "Try to punch me, and I'll show you."

[erbier]

She doesn't try to punch people often either, it was just another way to end up in a prolonged fight. If she was forced to be without her knife, she preferred her knees and elbows, sometimes her nails. But that does not mean no one will ever try to punch her and so she swallows, takes up a similar stance to Mara with fists closed and swings. Clean and swift but she does not follow all the way through, does she need to for this example?

[snaphiss]

Mara catches the punch and sighs. "Next time, when I tell you to hit me, I mean it."

But she has Ilde's fist in her hand, and she intends to use it. "If you were still throwing the punch, there'd be force behind it." She turns, taking Ilde's fist with her. "That's the basic idea of this. Now punch me again."

She lets go, and waits.

[erbier]

Ilde doesn't apologize, she dislikes doing so and reserves it for only the most relevant of moments. Instead, she simply squares up again without complaint, softly agreeing,

"Yes."

She puts her hips into the thrust this time, maybe even a little more confident about what they're doing now that she has seen the general idea of what Mara is trying to teach her. She does know that if she going to bother punching someone she needs to put herself behind it, she has never successfully knocked someone out, but she has broken a nose in her life.

[snaphiss]

Mara catches the punch, and uses the weight Ilde puts behind it to pull her forward. She turns with the momentum, drawing Ilde with her as she pivots on her back leg. Mara throws her down-- or would. At the last moment, Mara holds tight, just before Ilde would have hit pavement.

It's to build trust, she tells herself. Not to spare her pain.

Gently, she sets Ilde on the ground. "Did you see how I did that?"

after the above training takes place! I can edit if that doesn't work for you

[batmotif]

Bruce had begun to consider the rooftop of the Bearings a sort of refuge, or perhaps more fittingly, a place to re-align his focus, to reset his thoughts for the evening. The skyline of the city below calmed him, in a way that allowed him to clear his mind and reflect on the events of the day; the mission, the Nest, the hosts he was linked with, their thoughts bubbling away in the back of his mind. He was dressed more casually today (for even Bruce can only abide wearing the same suit from home for a limited amount of time), sporting comfortable dark slacks and an airy, white shirt with long sleeves that he kept rolled up at the elbows.

The waning daylight began to cast long shadows across the rooftop, and he found comfort in the isolation they blanketed him with, away from the prying eyes and curious minds of any others who may visit -- he leans against the railing in the corner, silent and contemplative, turning to look back only when he hears footsteps and, eventually, voices.

One is a woman he recognizes from the streets of Concordia below, the one playing journalist and who indulged him in a farce of keeping up appearances. The other young woman, he does not recognize -- or perhaps, is only recognized by this planet's news coverage. Regardless, it is immediately obvious that she is another host; if not by principle of simply being here, then because Bruce can feel the familiar tug of someone as connected to the Nest as he, especially when he subtly tugs at those connective strings.

Someone else, perhaps, would make their presence known before or during their training session. Bruce, naturally, remains in shadow, quietly watching with divided interest between the two. To say that he is eavesdropping is an understatement. He takes in everything he can, from the way they move to the advice offered from one to the other; which foot they favored, their reaction times, their "styles" of sparring. It's difficult to tell if he's impressed, but he certainly is interested.

It's after their session is over -- and only one remains -- when Bruce makes his presence more obviously known, straightening from his spot against the railing and stepping out to an open area of the roof.

"You picked a harsh place for a training session; the roof's surface will leave plenty of bruises if your partner isn't careful with you."

But it's less of a criticism than an observation. It's no practice mat, but the hard, unyielding surface of the rooftop makes sure one doesn't easily forget lessons learned.

all good :3

[erbier]

Ilde had remained on the roof after Mara in order to calm herself after that last push to wield her symbiote. She is found often on the roof, it is where the plants are and she longs for their company more than she longs for human companionship. The plants are easier, there are no layers of deception or manipulation. She loves them without motive and in kind, they grow. So simple.

She feels a bit foolish to not have noticed Bruce before he spoke to her, and she turns with a wary look, blue eyes wide. She considers his statement for a moment.

"It was the most obvious place to practice, where I would not be seen." She was pretending to be someone harmless. What would her 'fans' think if pictures of her fighting with a journalist got out. "Mara was very careful with me."

For exactly the same reason, really. What would the fans think if she came into the spotlight with a black eye?

She tilts her head slightly then, considering him. "What did you think of it?"

[batmotif]

He had expected the wary look; it's the kind most give him when he quite literally steps out of the shadows unannounced. (A habit he's taken up more than most normal people. Terror was also a common response, though they faced an entirely different manner of Bruce Wayne then.) Regardless, he doesn't seem fazed by it, nor particularly pleased with himself. He had simply been watching with interest, and there was little more to it than that.

Being careful, he thinks, sometimes defeats the purpose of training yourself to fight. This is one of the few instances that Bruce considers the excuse otherwise a reasonable one. A cover where one was in the public eye was a precarious choice, and being more careful was only to be expected. It merely meant that there would be room for improvement, when she was less restricted.

As always, he offers his opinion easily, with unyielding honesty. "Your instructor knows what she's doing. But it's hard to be creative when you're limited to covering the basics." It's neither a disparagement nor a compliment. Merely an observation.

"Your... powers, though," he continues, the real sticking point of his interest. "That was unexpected."

He expected, of course, for powers to be utilized (at least for those willing to wield them). What he didn't expect was an emotion etched on Mara's face which he was well-acquainted with: fear.

[erbier]

Ilde takes his honesty for what it is, and appreciates that he is forthright. She herself is a very straightforward girl, when it can be afforded. It cannot always be, there are times and places where she is forced to soften and evade, bend to the dangers of a situation in order to redirect the energy to something she can control. She feels no particular threat from Bruce right now, however, and so she answers just as plainly,

"I have trained with the Prince as well, but I did not find his methods suit me well. I am glad to start again with Mara."

She has never had another woman like Mara in her life to look up to. It is a pleasant feeling, it gives her direction, hope, and while Mara would assuredly deny it: a friendship. Ilde understands that much about the other woman, and thus keeps such comments carefully contained. She had made herself known when they met, meeting Mara's mind and letting all the places where their experiences overlapped illuminate. That was enough. Their kinship is understood, it does not need to be harped upon.

Ilde contemplates the man's other observations for a moment, but that too she is willing to be upfront about: "It was my first attempt at such a strategic use. My control is improving."

[batmotif]

Bruce cannot help but frown a bit at the mention of the Prince. He had only met the man once, but the conversation did not exactly leave the best of first impressions; and the fact that he was offering training to those who desired it did not seem to assuage his initial feeling about the man, as unfair as it might be.

He does not comment on it, then, but his faint glower is perhaps tell enough. He pushes forward with the matter at hand.

"A strategic use in what?" he continues, for the sake of clarification. "Anxiety? Fear? I've seen that look on someone's face before; it had hit her so quickly."

Which was, in the end, maybe not as advantageous as it sounded. Bruce believed it the emotion that was more effective starting as a slow, simmering boil, before it blossomed into pure panic. It left a more... lasting impression that way.

[erbier]

He is not the only one to dislike the Prince, and the elder host himself clearly preferred it that way. Ilde herself is not extremely fond of him, but she has come to understand after weathering multiple of his heated lectures that he has lost so many of them, whether he has trained them or not, whether he has loved them or not, and now he ekes out what he can from beneath bruises. She has understanding for Prince, but respect is... something else entirely.

"Yes," she's a straightforward girl, when it suits, when it is safe to be so. "My symbiote's ability spreads fear. When I began it was... a formless dread. It is recent that I have managed to make myself specific."

[batmotif]

Bruce vacillates between being intrigued and concerned. He knew the use of fear against his enemies, having employed it in his own way when he could, but the tactic was one that required more than the element of surprise. It was, in many ways, glorified theatrics, the ability to get under one's skin, to gently ease them into panic. To make them lose their focus in fear itself, giving Bruce the advantage.

He considers his words for a moment before speaking.

"Specificity is well and good, but you still failed to use it to your full advantage. You've dealt all your cards early in the fight, and a strong-willed opponent won't be so unsuspecting the next time." And it was obvious from her actions alone that Mara appeared to be one such individual.

[erbier]

"It will only work with the unsuspecting," she agrees. "A last resort."

Mara had told her she needed some kind of holdout, and Ilde sees this as an acceptable option if she cannot get her hands on a weapon. She has been quite expressly forbidden from them, actually, after stabbing a ruffian to death on Avera. The Prince had not been pleased with her, and so she is doing her best to obey the mandate set before her. Still, if she were truly threatened here in Concordia... anything could happen.

[batmotif]

"You could," he begins, though it's obvious it has a bit more to say on the matter. "Though there are better ways to wield fear, than to hit your opponent with all at once."

A part of himself questions why he should bother sharing, but it's quickly overridden by a desire to make his fellow hosts simply better at what they do. It made their chances of a successful mission higher, which in turn may eventually lead them to find a way home more effectively, assuming all the answers slowly begin to unravel before them.

"I mean a slow, simmering sort of fear. The kind that builds into panic, and clouds the judgement of your opponent. It lasts longer, and it's more detrimental."

Of course, he cannot help but comment on something else he had overheard.

"You may not have to resort to cutting someone's throat if they're too afraid to even look at you, for example."

[erbier]

Rather than answer, she instead simply activates her symbiote to do exactly what he had suggested. The slow simmering fear, the amorphous dread, is easier for her. She is a creature filled with fear, there is no coincidence that her symbiote simply lets it loose from within herself. She has lived her entire life in a haze of anxiety and panic, stalked by man-eating shadows across and endless scorched waste where there was nowhere to hide. Her earliest memories are of death and pain and fear. She needs no reason to be afraid, life is fear. Death is always knocking. No one is to be trusted, not even those who love you most.

The churning uncertainty develops in his stomach, hair raising at the back of his neck.

"Yes," she agrees, unrelenting. "It has been useful in the past."

[batmotif]

Bruce feels it nipping at his heels, that stewing anxiety creeping into his chest. It's familiar to him, a double-edged apprehension that he often turns outwards, detaching it from himself. But this time it doesn't truly belong to him; it's a foreign dread, intermingling with a mental link that reveals faint glimmers of deadly shadows and unyielding wastelands.

He has long learned that while his body works on instinct, already threatening to eke adrenaline into his system, his mind is what he can control. His will is abnormally petulant, a steel wall holding in his own experiences, while blocking anything trying to worm its way in. He brings up this barrier tenfold, setting his jaw. His mouth curves into a frown, looking at her, deflecting.

"You're fast to offer a demonstration," he says, though his tone lacks flippancy.

[erbier]

"We have powers which words are often inadequate for," she answers evenly, she looks off at nothing, her face pale and eyes glassy. Her fear is like a sickness, and it always has been. The symbiote knows her far too well, is all too clearly indeed meant for her. She is a superstitious girl, grew up in a world ruled by a mad Godking who spoke about his great and terrible destiny in wild hypnotic oration. Sometimes it soothes her to think that she is indeed where she should be. Sometimes she still doubts, although that lessens with time, lessens as she looses her sycophancy for Dreus, as she her dependence upon the intoxicating nature of his magic lets her mind be free. She is, in steps, taking control of herself; though what that means to her may be troublesome to others.

"I have much more room to grow into this power," soft but determined. She intends to be a terror one day, she intends to eclipse her mad Godking who had burned their world to nothingness, who had promised to truly turn it into nothing but ash when the day finally came.

Power and control, her weakness, her longing.