[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

[erbier]

Normally 'disabling' someone would be to kill them, but she has had little choice but to accept what others mean when they say such things. So she shakes off her weariness and focuses. It honestly doesn't bother her at all to move from Mara's lessons to this, endurance is a thing she is more than practiced in, and continuing to exercise it is nothing she will complain about.

According to Mara, disabling is an attack somewhere along the center: groin, stomach, throat, eyes. Some of those seem inappropriate for just meeting this man, she also knows that it is pointless not to dedicate to the attack, so she choose the most central point, fist to the solar plexus.

[batmotif]

Bruce had left his wording intentionally vague, to see how Ilde may interpret it; he's fought many who might translate the word "disable" more to their liking. A heavy hit to the head, or a forceful fracturing of the ankles. It often revealed much about the person, where they chose to focus on first; in this case, her choice is straightforward. Safe, effective.

Before her hit can connect, he twists to avoid it. It isn't to show off, but to simply avoid the force of impact; he cannot rely on his body armor here, and he would be a useless instructor if he allowed the wind to be knocked out him so swiftly.

"Again," comes the brusque command, and the implied now rings through their mental connection. If her opponent had dodged much like he had -- and now standing, shifted slightly to her right side -- how would she attack next?

[erbier]

She understands that basic concept, of not committing solely to one strike and hoping it hits. She was a scrappy little fighter, more intent on survival than skill, more focused on speed and surprise than on power, but she feels his insistence that she keeps up the movement. She quickly re-calibrates her intentions, this is not like when Mara had wanted to show her something a strike at a time. Different still from the Prince's methodical repetition of movements without attacking the partner at all.

So she lines up a series of targets in her mind, careful to keep her body loose so that she can follow him as he dodges. A strike up towards the throat, a kick down towards the knee.

[batmotif]

This is good, this is what he had in mind. There was little point in reiterating what Mara had already taught her; perfecting technique was critical to learning how to fight, but stringing the knowledge together, refining the rhythm and flow was just as important. There was something to be said about being adaptable, and Bruce believes that the best way to learn is to do.

So there's the faint flicker of approval as she strikes immediately for his throat, though the move is blocked, pushed out and forward by his forearm. Dodging the kick requires more footwork on his part, twisting his weight so that it merely grazes him. However, the maneuver leaves him open.

But this session isn't merely for the sake of observing what she knows, it's just as much for teaching. Faintly, images may appear in her mind of the more practical places to strike an open opponent -- the sternum, or again, the solar plexus. Or if she's feeling particularly bold and brisk, a hook to his jaw, or his temple.

[erbier]

She's almost surprised that he feeds her ways to attack him, but that fades quickly. She knows very well that much of this is about muscle memory, about practice. It reminds her distantly of playing chess with their littlest Sam. One did not start out with much skill, but as you learned the rhythm of the game, one improved a step at a time. Bruce has his own rhythm. Mara hers. Each enemy.

For a few rounds she lets herself fall into what he feeds her, letting her breathing fall in line.

And then with a sharpness she deviates, pivoting on her back foot and bringing a leg swinging around in a rough kick to the ribs. A good move in terms of power, momentum generated from the twist of her hips, but a spin kick almost always telegraphs.

[batmotif]

She was following his instructions well enough, but Bruce's twinge of satisfaction is swept aside by an unyielding focus. Because he knows where she will attack, he knows where to block, where to dodge. But that was hardly the point. This was indeed an exercise in muscle memory, in repetition. Like most, she would likely learn more readily when presented with nothing short of good old fashioned practice -- and a hint of hardheadedness.

The rhythm and flow is stable, and the session continues without complications. That is, until she twists her body to aim a kick at his ribs; Bruce sees it for what it is, he can see the shift of her weight that indicates something more than just the right hook that he had telegraphed her.

His forearm comes up to block it, taking the brunt of the hit. The contact is forceful and enough to form a bruise later, but he's had much worse.

"Anyone who knows how to fight could see that coming." Not so much a criticism as a stated fact, a consideration for her to take into account in the future.