open.

[deployed]

CHARACTERS: Bellamy, Murphy + YOU
WHERE: Training wing!
WHEN: Day 0:10
SUMMARY: Bellamy attempts training, Murphy is useless.
WARNINGS: None, but will be updated if necessary.

[ In an open area of the training wing, an array of targets have been set up, a staggered circular around a floor strangely perfectly cushioned underfoot. Varying between standing sandbags, Wing Chun dummies and weighted foam figures in only vaguely humanoid shapes, it's a small field of combatants created to compensate for the lack of a sparring partner.

Bellamy’s stripped to the waist, working his way through the makeshift obstacle course. Periodically he pauses to fuss with the position of a dummy or swing a sandbag out of the way. His thoughts are humming quietly with a handful of specific memories: guard training on the Ark, sparring with Lincoln and the delinquents on the ground, all projecting absently outward. What he’s rigged up is no substitute for the real thing, obviously, but he hasn’t enlisted any of the more viable candidates for this particular workout. And the help he has enlisted has clearly given up on him.

Not that Murphy had tried in the first place. The focus mitts Bellamy had initially attempted to get him to use were abandoned immediately, still discarded on the floor now where he sits with his back against the wall. A tablet retained from Concordia occasionally takes up his attention, but most of the time he's watching Bellamy. He doesn't feature in the images seeping from Bellamy's mind, but there's an atmosphere of familiarity to them sharing the same space like this. They've done this before. And even if he isn't interested in getting actively involved, it's not like it's a bad show. ]


[ OOC: open for tagging Bellamy, Murphy or both; please just let us know in the subject line. Bellamy is open for sparring partners, but Eppy would prefer to handwave any actual combat! ]

Comments

por que no los dos

[miscreant]

[Where there is heavy physical activity, there is Seviilia. She can be counted on arriving inside the training wing around the approximate time Bellamy's limbs begin to ache from various activities -- or maybe it was Murphy's occasional attentiveness that drew her there. Either way, she thankfully arrives minus dreadplate and swords -- but there appear to be some blood stains splattered on her sleeves. Old, dried, but present nonetheless.

Whether or not she notices or cares about them is up for debate. She looks to Murphy first with a cordial smile before looking over toward Bellamy.]

Getting a bit restless, are we?

[She might have been saying the same, were it not for The Darkling and others.]

hops in here first

[deployed]

[ Nothing in the Station is truly closed off. Bellamy doesn't miss Concordia, but he thinks he misses doors. Seviilia drifts in and Bellamy's immediate impression is...cold. It's like icy fingers against the warmth of Bellamy's memories. They recede, vanishing behind a self-conscious veneer as Bellamy turns away from the dummy. His gaze moves first to Murphy, assessing his reaction to her before taking in the blood on her sleeves. ]

You could say that.

[ Though isn't everyone? This much leisure time makes Bellamy's skin itch. He doesn't know what to do with himself. Peace had always been a far-off notion; it had been something to strive for, without any real consideration of what it would mean. If the Station is a preview, Bellamy isn't sure he's suited to it. ]

Here to watch?

[wrackful]

[Murphy doesn't move, still comfortably slouched back against the wall, but his eyes track Seviilia across the room. Caution flows down the line between him and Bellamy, the kind encased in smooth, closed walls: holding your ground against a grounder, not retreating from a threat. Distrust is a secondary offering, and might almost be a given for how rarely Murphy gives his out, except Seviilia is his brood. He knows Bellamy's perception of that bond, and he knows it's starkly different to what Seviilia has demonstrated.]

[miscreant]

I couldn't help but notice your form.

[If Seviilia feels anything from Murphy, there is no outward display of it. All of her poise and professionalism appears to be present -- what little she's learned over the years of being a functional member of the Ebon Blade, and perhaps some left over from a time she doesn't remember.

But if Murphy is there, she imagines that the other man is already at least passively aware that she is his broodmate. Her words mean to suggest that he'd called her there on purpose, even though he hadn't.]

I thought you might enjoy a moving target.

[deployed]

[ Briefly, Bellamy's eyes flick to Murphy. He doesn't trust himself to ask anything specific without his thoughts carrying, but he's caught the meaning. Murphy's identifying Seviila as someone to be approached with caution. Bellamy wants to press for specifics, but that will have to wait until some point in the future. For now, Bellamy's disinclined to turn own the offer. ]

I wouldn't turn one down. [ Bellamy admits. ] There's no substitute for the real thing.

[ They're all members of the same Hive. Bellamy has sparred with more volatile members before. He has no reason to think this would turn out differently, though his mind pings against Murphy's in quiet acknowledgement. He intends to be careful. ]

Murphy was probably getting sick of watching me with this set up anyway.

[ Last chance to volunteer, Murphy.

[wrackful]

[There's no stepping in to stop this. Even if he did, suddenly struck by inspiration to pick up the target gloves he'd been ignoring the entire time, it'd just be giving more away to Seviilia. He's aware it's pretty pointless to try and keep much from her, and part of him feels like the attempt would just be giving in to how big and bad she wants to make herself out to be. But if there was one thing Murphy instinctively guarded from everyone, it was what and who he actually gave a shit about.]

Try not to make it too easy for her.

[Is all he offers, dry and drawling. Mocking, maybe, except for how it's true. He really doesn't want to feel Seviilia feeding off Bellamy's pain.]

[miscreant]

[Perhaps predictably, Seviilia turns just enough to allow Murphy to see her pass a mostly benign smirk in his direction before returning her attention to Bellamy. She closes some of the distance, allowing herself one simple roll of her shoulders to brace for any impact she might receive.

No reason to show off here -- they were all supposed to be on the same team, and such grandiose was beneath her in death. Usually.]

Come, child. I will allow you the courtesy of the first strike.

wouldnt mind both uwu!!

[cognitived]

[ the fissure of thought catches at him, quicksilver snatches of polaroid. not unusual, these days, and clint could ignore it, keep moving on, but -- but he's gained a weakness when it comes to his brood. besides, bellamy is always entertaining to lurk around, and clint was never one to turn down training. decades of circus, army, agent, curling in his blood, his bones. he's spent more time here, than elsewhere, probably.

even if he does wistfully miss the over the top training centers stark sunk under the avenger's tower and base.

still, clint's had months to get used to being away from the comforts of superhero identity. enough that he puts it aside, stepping through the doors to catch sight of bellamy running his course. murphy gets a glance, categorizing, acknowledging, before focusing once more. not bad, but still, he can't resist-- ]

Sloppy, kid. [ a slow grin, teasing. ]

drags murphy in

[deployed]

[ Seeing Clint awake is new enough that it colors Bellamy's thoughts over with relief. He doesn't ever want to admit that he'd doubted, but he'd been afraid of the idea that Clint wouldn't wake. They'd already lost Rey. It didn't feel as if they could afford any other losses.

He flashes a smile, pivoting towards Clint smoothly. Bellamy doesn't compare to some of the fighters here, but he's no slouch. And he knows he's improved, even if all of that is from a combination of Lincoln's tutelage and secondhand knowledge from the brood's pooled experience. ]

You're lucky I'm so glad to see you up and about, old man.

[ Regardless, he's not sure he could take Clint. It'd be dicey. Bellamy would need to get lucky. That doesn't stop him from considering it, even as he strays away from the center of his makeshift obstacle course. He puts himself by Murphy; it's a quiet way to include him even if Bellamy covers it over by bending to snag what passes for a towel on an alien space ship. ]

[wrackful]

[The whole exchange gets an eyeroll, Murphy clearly finding the kid and old man teasing a little too friendly-sweet for his tastes.]

If you two want some privacy...

[He can leave, the trailing end implies, though he's making no move to do so. Really, it's all an easy cover up for the quiet spike of envy that had risen in response to the waves of relief coming off Bellamy. Murphy was three broodmates down, but here was another one of Bellamy's, reawakened. But he doesn't really want either of them to pick that up.]

[cognitived]

[ rey's loss is too new, too sudden, a still curling thing beneath his ribs. clint can't blame bellamy for his relief, nor the way it spills over. he simply moves closer, casually splitting the distance. sizes the both of them up with automatic appraisal, an assassin's habit he'll never be rid of.

they're scrappy -- it'd be fun. ]

Yeah, yeah.

[ he dismisses, waving a hand lazily. lets his broodmate posture all he wants, even as his grin tempers, curious, head tilting like a bird as murphy speaks up. he's not familiar enough with murphy to pick up the envy, doesn't settle in minds as others do. clint simply laughs, a small little thing. ]

Don't go far, someone'll need to peel him off the floor.

[deployed]

[ Murphy might not be so inclined to scrape Bellamy off the training mats. It's hard to predict. Bellamy doesn't expect Clint to do that kind of damage and rolls his eyes over the idea of it. ]

Murphy, this is Clint.

[ Introductions are still...strange. They feel superfluous at times. With the way their minds overlap, Bellamy sometimes feels as if it's rendered the most basic aspects of interaction useless. ]

Clint, this is Murphy. He and I come from the same place.

[ There's a weight shading those words. Bellamy would have used the same turn of phrase to introduce Lexa, but it's different with Murphy. They're from the Ark. They're Skaikru. They're more closely connected, even if that's not immediately obvious. ]

[wrackful]

[Murphy lifts one hand, gives a lazy little flick of a wave. From the same place is a complicated thing, but at least Bellamy hadn't gone for the same people.

Though he also hadn't exactly made it a balanced introduction.]

And you're the same brood.

[Being the only other thing he knew about Clint past his name, right now, and Bellamy hadn't even volunteered it.]

grabby hands at for both

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Even when Sam'd been retired from the military, he'd never really stopped training, and now sure as hell isn't any different. He'd just planned on hitting the weights when he'd headed over to the training area, but he'd been pulled in by the snippets of memory that Bellamy's putting out. He's missed having easy access to a variety of people to train with. He spars with Clint, of course, and it's always more than a good work out, but one person isn't the same.

And no one's the same as Natasha Romanoff, but he's resigned himself to that. Training with her features heavily in the snapshots of Sam's own memories that hover at the surface of his mind as he asks if Bellamy will go a round or two with him.

Full contact, of course, and damn it feels good to let go a little. Despite Sam's obvious focus and the way he holds nothing back, he's far from quiet while they spar. His mind is calm and almost at ease, and he comments on Bellamy's form, offers pointers and accepts any in return, casually laughs at himself when he missteps or Bellamy gets the better of him.

In the end he's bruised and banged up, but Bellamy's more so. His muscles burn with exertion, but it's a good feeling, and he catches his breath as he stretches out. ]

Hell, brother, you're good. [ Sam looks him over for a moment, then wiggles his fingers at him. ] You gonna let me heal you up if I promise I remember I gotta give it back?

[deployed]

[ The training does feel good, but Bellamy can't even tell how much of that euphoria is his and how much is Sam's. It feel good to be outmatched; Sam pushes him and Bellamy adapts. He can almost feel himself improving. That's satisfying, even if the fight comes to an end with Bellamy on the floor, gasping and outplayed. There's blood in his mouth, but he grins anyway, ignoring the split lip. ]

Nah, Murphy's not a half-bad nurse.

[ One time Murphy held a human heart in his hands. That's how you qualify for nursing, right? ]

And I don't trust you to give anything back.

[ Sam operates in the same way Bellamy would, if he had that type of power. (If he were a healer instead of poisonous to the touch.) Bellamy slouches beside Murphy with a groan. ]

You're better, you know. [ His knee knocks against Murphy's, even though his gaze doesn't leave Sam. ]

[wrackful]

[There's nothing satisfying in watching Bellamy get beaten. There would have been, once, but now there's just a strange kind of tension. A gathering knot between knowing it's just practice, knowing Bellamy can take more than a few knocks, and maybe being kind of sick of seeing people get hurt.

So Murphy pays more attention to the tablet, mindlessly paging through the various pieces of information he'd collected on Concordia, only glancing up again at the mention of his name.]

First you want me to be a punching bag, now you want me to mop up your blood.

[Dry tone communicating exactly what he thinks of playing nurse, but something in him relaxes for the brush of contact. He's looking at Sam's hands, though, even as he discards the idea of pushing Bellamy to take advantage. Murphy knows he won't. But he also knows it'd be something useful to know more about.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam presses a hand over his heart as though wounded, even though his grin doesn't fade. ]

Ouch, man, that one hurt worse than your left hook.

[ He's teasing, but doesn't bother protesting that of course he'd keep his promise. He would, he doesn't make promises lightly, but he's not going to try to force Bellamy to do something Sam already knows that he's uncomfortable with. ]

Should see me in the air. [ He doesn't dispute it, though, as he takes a long pull from his bottle of water. ] I've had a lot of practice. Last couple of years back home, I worked with the best. [ Sam nods towards Murphy - yeah, he didn't miss the way he was looking at his hands. ] The healing's an open offer for you, too, you know.