station72 | come on and rise above it

Entry tags:

come on and rise above it

CHARACTERS: Misato + Sam, Damon and you!
WHEN: DAY 012
WHERE: Training area
SUMMARY: Work, work, work, work, working on my shhhh
WARNINGS: None really!

FOR SAM: When you're born in the dirt the only way to grow is up.
[ Misato has her forehead against the floor, her arms forming guards on either sides of her head as she kneels there gasping for sweet, sweet oxygen. The thought that runs through her mind is becoming more familiar, punitive, blaming herself for having spent so many endless nights and days poring over battle reports, test results, requests to different arms of the UN, superfluous apologies for collateral damage, rather than keeping up her physique. There was never enough time for exercise, not enough time for proper meals let alone to think about them, not enough time to prepare or to live life as it should be lived.

She silences it all with a decisive statement: It was necessary. To survive.

She turns her head at the same time as she allows herself to fall to her side in a loose fetal position, letting out a pained groan as she does. ]

Damn it.

[ She never makes any concessions for herself. That feels too much like cheating. It doesn't matter that Sam can probably bench press her with one hand or that he's a veteran of real wars, unlike her pseudo ones fought against amateurs, or that he has had more time to train. She measures herself against him and falls far short, and uses that as reason to drive her further onward.

She may seem defeated, lying there on the floor, but her mind resonates only with resolve, unyielding, ironsteel. She needs to get better, and soon, now, regardless that her body is crying out for merciful release. ]

Another round. I need all the training I can get.

FOR DAMON: Gotta know where to go where angels fear to tread.
[ There's no such thing as overpreparation or too much training when the days leading up to the mission stretch on, turning her anxious with anticipation. She needs to be as strong as possible in all the ways she knows, only then will she feel ready-- no, that too is a lie. She will never feel ready, forever standing on the balls of her feet, prepared for the worst.

Only this time that extends to her broodmates, those extensions of herself, knowing that she needs to ensure they are just as strong. Shepard can fend for herself, Beth is proving hardier than she seems and Kavinsky has powers that renders him godlike. That leaves Damon. Being undead doesn't necessarily make him invulnerable. He could still fall to the same strange sleep as Sirius, he could be incapacitated, he could turn mercurial and useless to her, there are no guarantees, but that has never stopped her from trying to make her own hedges. Misato raises the stakes when presented with unknown, impossible stakes. It's the only way she knows.

So here they are. Her with her arms wrapped in the hems she cut off of her white slacks to turn them into shorts, all the better for mobility, standing with legs apart and ready for a fight. ]

If you can knock me down, I'll let you take a bite.

[ Why does that even sound sexual. Vampires, why. ]

FOR STEVE: Better make the shot go straight just like an arrow.
[ Misato lives a binary life. All or nothing.

When she's awake, she's awake, filling every moment with an unending list of pending tasks. Going, going, going. When she sleeps, rare as that may be, she's sleeping, dead to the world, commonly helped by alcohol when sheer exhaustion fails to do its work. It's probably fortunate (for her, unfortunate for others) that most people who snore hardly get the luxury of hearing their own horrifying sounds and as such she has little point of reference for the cacophony that makes its way through the walls of her room. Persistent, rising in volume every time she nearly drifts off to sleep, like a kind of auditory water torture.

Eyes still half open, she casts aside her blanket and stomps her way toward the sound, never allowing herself even a moment to rethink this. The knock on his door is unabashedly angry, with the might and force of a raging bull. ]

Are you strangling a lawnmower in there or what?

WILDCARD!
[ Throw me anything for last-chance station shenanigans! You can check out Misato's offscreen activities and bad habits right here. You're also most welcome to PM me or hit me up at unhedged to plot something out. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Training. Katie needs more training. She doesn't have the castle here or Lance or Keith or Hunk. There's Shiro, but he seems more wrapped up in some of the mental stuff bouncing around his head and, honestly, she's still coming to grips with some of the... issues he's been going through with. Especially surrounding Sam and Aoba and the way that his symbiote ability seems to be working. It feels a touch safer to talk to Misato. Or at least find a better way to exert herself.

There had been physical PT at the Garrison. So what harm could come from asking Misato to help her stay in shape? The training area is mostly empty. Just the two of them when Katie arrives, feeling scrawny and short and all of the other things that come when you're fourteen and you're not sure you're ever going to hit any kind of growth spurt. That awkwardness and feeling of being in an ill-fitting body permeates the emotional space around her, even if she's here for a reason. She blows out a breath and then tries to smile. ]

Hey, Misato. You still willing to help me work out?

[ Doing it alone seems... inappropriate, for some reason. Besides, Misato had been there to help her when she'd almost passed out. ]

Uh, just as a warning, I kinda... sweat. A lot. It's kinda gross and I don't really know why, it's not even like I'm that athletic. I mean, I'm not out of shape, but I was a tech, but then I was a paladin, so I guess I should get better at fighting or running or whatever it is we need to do-

[ While others might look away from their fears and weaknesses, sweep them under the carpet and refuse to acknowledge them, Misato takes the other extreme. She digs them out, brings them to light and faces them head on to tame and subdue. The mirror she looks into is stark, startlingly vivid. She knows that she's trained (enough) and tactically smart (enough) but she lacks strength and stamina, because better than average just doesn't cut it when she wants to be the best she can be. There's no other way to ensure her continued survival, and survival is a non-negotiable absolute.

She spares the girl a glance when she speaks up, but doesn't stop her routine of frantically flipping the large tire that comes up to her hips when upright. Seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four-- ]

You're too small to fight.

[ Her words are rushed and breathless, dismissive. On one hand, she's had enough of training people. On the other, she wants to see if Katie will fight her on it and try to change her mind. Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty. That beats her previous record. That done, she lets the tire roll away and crumples to the floor to lie on her back and catch her breath. Cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her face in the least attractive way possible, and very, very sweaty. At least her grin is amiable. ]

And do I really look like I care about sweat?

[ Katie's sort of impressed. Most of her physical training has either been fairly basic PT (push-ups, running, so much running) or the relatively individualized stuff they'd done on the castle. She didn't think of herself as out of shape, just... not as intense as some other people. Like Keith. Keith never turned it off, apparently. On the other hand, her expression falls as soon as Misato says "you're too small". It's not despair, it's more anger and indignation.

She'd thought better of Misato. That's evident from the discontent that roils the air around her and plunges the temperature of the room to somewhere below chilly. ]

I've fought before. I'm a paladin of Voltron!

[ She folds her arms with a frown. ]

Besides, it's not my fault my limbs are short. I just haven't hit my growth spurt.

[ Keep telling yourself that, Katie. ]

It doesn't matter whose fault it is.

[ That you're short and small and hasn't hit your growth spurt. But she thinks the girl gets the point. There's no use blaming anyone else for the things you can't help, better to find the things you can blame yourself for, because at least then there's a chance you can change it, even if it takes bleeding yourself dry for. Misato isn't really the person to go to for healthy life advice.

She props herself up on her elbows, flashing a cheeky grin at her. Teasing, mocking. ]

You're yelling about this "paladin of Voltron" like I should know. What's that? A cheerleading squad?

Cheerleading squad-?

[ Pidge groans. A part of her wants to be angry at Misato and another part of her sort of gets that this is just how Misato is. She scratches her cheek with a frown and bits and pieces filter down the link. Large, robotic lions. A futuristic cockpit. Explosions in the cold black of space. ]

No, we're... defenders of the universe. We're fighting against the Galra Empire. It's... sort of a long story.

[ It's comical how quickly her expression changes from mischief to surprise to newfound respect, or at least, some measure of familiarity. There's a moment of concern there too as she weighs the benefits of returning the favor, showing Pidge her side of the story, but decides against it. The point was for the girl to prove herself, right?

There's no need for her to show her cards any more than necessary. Maybe later. ]

Fine, fine. You owe me the story if I help you though, how's that?

[ There's something closed off to her, but Pidge doesn't pry or try to ask questions. There are things she prefers to bury and not discuss. She's sure the same is true for Misato. She sighs and offers a grin. ]

Deal. What do we start with?

[ It's true. There are things she prefers to never speak of, but not out of fear, only because they are long past irrelevant to her. Scarred over and forgotten. Why reopen old wounds?

Misato rises to her feet with a sigh, stretching her arms above her to loosen her joints. ]

Like I said, you're small. Without the-- Voltron, you won't be able to hurt anybody much really. But you can be fast. You can be smart and sneaky.

Well, I kinda knew that. It's what I've been doing.

[ Another bit of memory leaks out - crawling through some sort of vent system, trying to avoid getting shot by lasers. Yay. ]

I'm not strong, but I'm quick.

That's a start. You can turn quick into strong.

[ Misato walks over to grab Pidge by the upper arm with utter disregard for personal space, meaning to get an idea of her muscle mass. She seems disappointed. ]

Honestly though, why do you want to fight? Aren't you better at doing the computer stuff?

[ Pidge allows the physical contact, but she still pulls a face. That's not encouraging. Or all that polite. She tugs her arm back after a moment. ]

Why can't I do both? Like I said, I'm a paladin of Voltron. I've had to fight and I'm going to have to again and the other side isn't going to care that I'm short or that I might just be along to "do computer stuff".

[ Her face sets in an expression of determination. ]

If you don't want to, I'll find someone else.

[ She lets go without protest, crossing her arms over her stomach, striking her usual pose albeit with an amused smile playing on her face. The girl's determined, more so than others, and that counts for a lot by Misato's books. ]

Well, you know, I've met less likely heroes and they turned out okay.

[ Okay, she says, the master of understatement. ]

Run twenty laps around the room for me while I grab a few things for us.

Twenty laps-?!

[ Oh my God, this is exactly like the Garrison. Can't be any worse than Allura and Coran's training, right? She groans, but she starts running. This is gonna be a long day, isn't it? ]

I'm just warning you, I get pretty sweaty.

Edited 2017-03-24 02:53 (UTC)

[ Oh, this is about to be so much worse. Misato's expression turns from mildly pleased to extreme displeasure the moment Pidge expresses alarm at her order. ]

What's that? Complaining already?

[ There's little anger belying her words no matter her displays of irritation. ]

It's only a problem if you slip on your sweat and hit your head. Otherwise, get to it.

It's a free country!

[ Katie retorts, but she is starting to run. Besides, she's a teenager. Complaining is in her blood. ]

This ain't no country! It's my training.

[ It's not even a planet, or a galaxy, or an anything really. She sets aside the thought before it gets too existential, moving across the room to find a long unadorned pole and something that resembles a baseball bat, tapping it against the ground impatiently. ]

Not done yet? You gonna make me wait until I'm eighty?

[ WOW, give her some time to actually run, Misato. She shoots a rather typical teenage sulk in her direction as she starts on another lap. ]

It's not my fault I have short legs.

[ One of these days she'll hit a growth spurt. Hopefully. Still, she focuses on running and it doesn't take her too long to finish her first assignment. ]

[ Misato is quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically thoughtful when she walks toward the edge of the room as if to observe Katie closer, before she plants the pole against the wall to stop the girl in her tracks. The expression she wears is serious, severe. ]

You keep saying that, how things aren't your fault, well it doesn't matter. Life isn't a fair game. Suck it up and find a way to make up for it.

[ Katie jumps as the pole comes slamming down in her path. Unexpected. She stares up at Misato for a moment, looking confused and then more irritated. She rolls her eyes and sidesteps (or goes under) the pole. ]

I wouldn't be here if I didn't find a way. It's how I ended up in the Garrison. It's how I ended up a paladin.

[ She folds her arms with a defiant little scowl. ]

I already know life isn't fair. I don't need you to lecture me about that.

[ Persistent. It's enough to take her aback, eyes widening in surprise before her expression reverts to mild amusement laced with acceptance. Alright. If that's how it's gonna be. She takes the pole back and plants in on the floor, tweaking a little smile at the girl. She may not know what Garrison means or paladin (isn't that a better word to use for their heroes, rather than children?), but she doesn't think she needs to. ]

Fine. No more lecturing. Are you sweaty enough yet?

[ Huh. Pidge blinks and then decides to shake it off. It's not worth arguing about and apparently Misato is ready to move on. That's fine with her. She rolls her shoulder and half grins. ]

If I say "yes", you're just gonna want me to run more. So probably not, especially since we haven't even started>

[ The grin prompts one from her too. The girl is starting to get it. Sometimes, she doesn't mind being so easily read. Isn't that better than not being understood? She takes one step backwards before turning around to walk over and take her place in the middle of the room. ]

Nope. Come out here. Let's work on your core, it all starts from there.

[ "Core workout". She's heard that one before so she sort of knows what's coming. She follows Misato out into the middle of the room and takes a few stretches. She's actually feeling pretty energetic, all things considered. This isn't too bad.

Maybe she won't be a complete mess by the end of this. ]

So, what? Pushups? Crunches...?

That'd be boring. Save it for homework.

[ She sets the bat and the pole to the side, then stops to think, mind clearly spinning for ideas, before she goes to fetch a ball at the last minute. She gets down on the mat into a plank position and gestures for Pidge to follow suit. ]

We're playing ball. I'll hit this toward your left hand and you hit it back, then I aim for your right hand, and so on. But maintain the plank.

[ Sweet Jesus. Katie settles onto her hands and knees and then takes a breath and hoists herself into plank position. This is gonna suck. She can already tell.

But she did ask for this, so she can't really complain. ]

OK-!

[ She sounds a bit strained. ]

Let's go!

[ Dedicated isn't an extreme enough word for Misato. Sam's good at hand-to-hand combat - even aside from his military training, he's been working with Natasha Romanoff for long enough that he has no excuse not to be. But Misato never fucking gives up, never, and if they were back where he's from -

Well, Sam'd be trying to recruit her for being an Avenger, or whatever they hell they were now, but aside from that, he'd be pushing her to do pararescue. She could make it through the training, he thinks, if only because if he told her that only about 15% of the people who start ever make it through, she'd damn well make sure she was one of them.

And she'd be good at it, she'd survive through anything and never, ever quit. It almost makes him wistful. ]

You shoulda been in pararescue with me.

[ But he's just getting nostalgic now, and he hands her a bottle of water after he tips some back. She needs a break - hell, he could use a break - that much is obvious, but it's equally obvious that she probably won't take him just saying that. ]

There's more than one kind of training here. [ He taps the side of his temple. ]

Edited 2017-03-19 08:25 (UTC)

[ She knows a compliment from a fellow military brat when she hears one, giving him a look of stunned surprise before averting her gaze with the excuse of rising to sit up, fixing her ponytail in lieu of replying. Does he know? She wouldn't fight for any reason other than her own personal vendetta and certainly not to rescue strangers. Besides, that wholesome joviality he and his fellow countrymen wear don't fit her. Outward appearances deceive. Reserved, inward-looking anxiety suits her better.

It's when he suggests another form of training that she turns to him, biting the inside of her cheek in a pained expression, even if she doesn't give voice to what she's thinking. He's going easy on me. ]

You're just saying that to get in my head.

[ Head. Pants. Head. Get it? She fiercely swipes the water bottle from him and gulps it down as violently, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Already, she feels an oncoming cramp, everywhere. So she lets out a sigh, posture slumping. ]

Fine. But I can't really control what you'll see, so . . .

[ He catches that surprise, but doesn't explain the comment. It'd been born of nostalgia, a wistful memory of the kind of training that chews people up and spits them out and what it takes to survive that. Maybe it isn't a good thing that she'd have been one of them.

She might not say what she's thinking, but the look on her face is enough for him to get it all the same, even as he gives a soft chuckle at her not-quite joke.

He stretches as she takes a drink from the water, rolling his shoulders out before he drops down to sit on the mat. ]

Making yourself stronger physically is a hell of a lot easier than making yourself stronger mentally, you know. All you gotta do for the first one is never quit - the second one, you gotta learn what kind of strength will break under pressure, and what kind will bend. It's not enough to just keep pushing yourself, you gotta be able to recognize the cracks when they start forming and figure out if you can patch them up or you need to try something new.

[ Misato is an open book for any who would listen and take the time to read. It's a long story. But she's not prone to hiding her expressions, heck she's near incapable of it, her feelings bared for the world to see, face shifting from mild curiosity when he begins to talk to all-out irritation when he says It's not enough to just keep pushing yourself, before settling on grudging acceptance by the time he's done. She's thinking of walls and defenses and the near-crippling headache she earned from the latest mental exercise she took upon herself, but then, she does need help patching them up. Or trying something new.

She scoots closer, knowing not to touch him, this time wearing an expression of restrained enthusiasm. ]

I wanna show you something I learned it while practicing with Ilde, but you have to try to come in. It's invisible otherwise.

[ The force that holds each living thing apart from the other is unseen, what the eyes grasp is only the form of the thing, held in shape and in place. It's true of human hearts too. Individuals are formed by the shields they put up, erected at the moment of birth, mother is the first other, dissolved and made flimsy in the act of falling in love and built upon the wreckage of itself at the moment of betrayal. It's this barrier she uses, clear like a film and not quite substantial but undeniably present and forceful, the cracks there but invisible. ]

Come on. I won't bite.

[ It's something that Sam really likes about her, actually. Sam himself is a pretty expressive guy, whether he's content or pissed or amused, and it... makes him feel more comfortable with her, knowing that she's the same. Misato is complicated as hell, but at least he doesn't usually even need a mental connection to get an idea of what she might be feeling.

His eyebrows raise a little when he hears that she's been practicing mental training with Ilde as well as physical, but her enthusiasm is catching. Hell, all right, he can go with it. ]

You sure about that?

[ But he's teasing, and he focuses on their connection. He's not sure if she's inviting him in or inviting him to try to get past her defenses, so at first he just brushes gently against her mind, just the smallest hint of pressure to see how much give her barrier has. ]

[ It's unfair, really, how much worth others place on her emotions because she's unashamed of expressing them, when others with deeper, hidden feelings go unnoticed. Much of it, still, is for show. ]

Don't ask me that.

[ Her tone is clipped, dismissive, easily construed as rude. She doesn't need any more reminders of how alike Sam is to a certain watermelon farmer-slash-couch philosopher and the way the latter used to ask Katsuragi, what do you want? Is this what you want? Is this what you really want? At least-- at least Sam doesn't wait for her to answer, the question being nothing but courtesy, and therein lies the difference.

Her barrier is deceivingly flimsy to the touch, transparent, like the surface of an air bubble. But it's flexible, bending against his touch without letting him in. She quirks a smile, challenged. ]

I'm going to try to come in.

[ It's a warning, not a request for consent. She hasn't tried this before, having only recently discovered that the world of the mind isn't limited by the laws of physics, with her imagination being the literal limit. There's no hesitation, even if her moves are clumsy and unpracticed: attempting to push back against the surface of his mind with her own, wall against wall, while mulling over the idea of dissolving both to form a pathway. Like bubbles merging together. The barrier between the souls can only be eroded by another soul. The AT Field's nemesis is another AT Field. ]

[ Don't ask me that, she bites out, and he wants to ask why, wants to know what nerve he touched so he'll know to approach it more carefully the next time, but he doesn't. She'd explain it if she wanted him to know.

They're supposed to be working, anyway, and there's a flicker of delight when he feels it bend under the press of his mind. His shields are similar, both layers of them - flexible and durable, meant to bend without breaking, instead of focusing on solid strength.

He hums an acknowledgment of the warning, ready for her - they're training, after all, as far as he's concerned he's already given his consent. He wouldn't ask for it before every punch he threw, after all.

His own mental wall is a rolling blanket of clouds. They shift as she pushes against them, fluffy white to pale grey to dark purple, heavy with rain, but it's like pushing through fog that won't clear. ]

[ How like him, to have clouds as his defense, deceivingly soft to the touch but mighty in its own way. She has never mistaken him for weak, well, maybe that comes with the package.

The risk in using a mind to invade another's mind (as is true if one were to invade a heart with a heart, as is true if one were to bridge, breach the barrier surrounding another person to establish connection), is that she has to allow him in as she steps inside too. There is no attack that doesn't leave one vulnerable too. But Misato is nothing but persistent, and if it takes going through miles of clouds to get through to him then reach through she will, a hand grasping through the fog to reach anything solid. It's hard for her to tell whether she'll just find herself reaching for air no matter how far she tries to extend herself. ]

Are you gonna let me down easy?

[ She thinks that if she were to plunge through these clouds, he'd just find a way to break her fall. ]

[ Honestly, it's something that he really appreciates Misato for. There's many things they don't know about each other, many ways they may disagree - but there's so many more things they see about each other. There are a more than a few people in the Nest that write him off as soft or weak on first glance, but she's never been one of them.

He's not as good at entering other people's minds as he is about keeping other people out of his - mostly because he never has, not unless he was invited. At most, he's tested other people's shields for weak spots to draw their attention to, for them to build up. That's the strategy he takes now instead of trying to push, breezing invisibly around her mind like wind wrapping around a house searching for any crack to whistle through.

It's easier to keep up his cloud layer, as long as she's going slow and steady. He's built his mind up with more than one defense, to switch between them as needed, but it's only ever been tested with a sharp and sudden attack. It's good to strain his mind a little like this, to practice keeping it up. ]

I'd never let you fall.

[ Bless his poor mother, the paper thin walls in the apartments couldn't drown out the night time clatter coming from her son's room. Fortunately for the rest of the Hosts, he's picked a room far off from their own beds - well, he had, until the new Hosts showed up and claimed their own rooms.

Tonight's a particularly bad one. His sinuses are adjusting back to the Station's air from a prolonged period on Concordia, and he made the mistake of sleeping on his back - as soon as his mouth slipped open... he gives loggers a run for their money.

He's wedged into that place between wakefulness and and an unintended nap that somehow tends to be his loudest nasal concerts, so the banging sound outside his room has him jolting to some light form of consciousness. ]

'm awake, sorry. [ Mumbled, but with genuine apology -

- which is quickly canceled out when approximately a half minute of silence later gives way to snoring again. ]

[ For half a minute, Misato is satisfied enough with the apology that she begins to turn around to go back to her room-- until the noise starts again, and this time her anger comes redoubled. She sends a forceful kick at his door, one to send shudders through the wall, but is awake enough by now to change tack from futile yelling.

Across the link she tries to send, out of all things, the feeling of subzero water rushing in through the windows and drenching the bed and quickly submerging the entire room. ]

Wake! Up!

( the idea that he might need any training in how to fight is honestly kind of laughable to damon. no human is ever going to be able to overpower him, and that's all he seems to be surrounded by here. even the ones who aren't human he's pretty sure he could take. the symbiotes can only do so much to make the weaklings of the nest durable, and he's not worried about any of them.

but misato had offered, and he wasn't about to say no. it'd be fun to kick her ass, anyway. so here damon is, standing across from her, one eyebrow arched sharply. )

Who says I'd want one?

( he only pauses for a second before blurring towards her, reaching for her leg to pull up on it sharply and drop her on her back. )

[ Misato has always fought on the side of the underdogs. Overpowered opponents are the norm and the only way to win is by sheer refusal to lose and a certain dash of insane creativity. And she knows about his superspeed, not that it makes it any easier to anticipate.

When he pulls her up in the air, she has only a split second to twist her body and swing her free leg toward him -- his head, torso, whatever she manages to hit or not hit -- while focusing her attention on grabbing the floor so she can land on her hands then flip to her feet in a low crouch. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand to reveal a smile, heart pounding a mile a minute. There's a thin line between fear and excitement. ]

Sneaky bastard. [ That's you, Damon, said with growing affection. ] Really, try, you might learn a thing or two.

( her leg does connect, briefly, with the back of his head. enough so that damon frowns down at her, more offended than truly hurt. what is it with humans and not having the good sense to stay down when they're knocked off their feet? )

If you were less Asian you could pass for a Gilbert, ( he says, and the mix of admiration and exasperation is as clear in his tone as it is through the link. jeremy and elena are both just as stupidly plucky as misato — he killed jeremy and the brat still didn't have the good sense to be afraid of him. that mix of bravery and stubborn pride is a trait damon's always found equal parts moronic and kind of endearing in them, and it's the same with misato.

he's clearly going to have to get more creative if he wants to knock her down. damon regards misato with narrowed eyes from his position standing above her, and waits for her to stand before he throws an actual punch at her. it has only a fraction of his real power behind it, and the form is... passable. he at least knows to keep his thumb on the outside of his fist.

that's about all he knows, though. he's clearly used to letting his superior abilities do his fighting for him. )

[ A thrill of displeasure courses through the link despite his clear intent. It's hard not to know that his words are meant as a high compliment when days of dreaming of brown doe eyes has made sure she understands full well what Elena means to him.

But she is, and will always be, Katsuragi. No other name can rest so heavily on her shoulders. Her father was the one to discover the tree of life itself and in the process opened pandora's box to find hope in the aftermath of two billion dead, and see, she has destroyed each and every one of the horrors he unleashed. She is her father's daughter, the one to bring his work to completion with the same brazenness and, yes, moronic bravery. Her refusal of his compliment only serves to prove his point.

What she fails to expect is how fast he moves, too fast for her to do anything but relax her muscles to receive the blow that hits squarely against her jaw. It's telling, instead of fear or anger, her mind betrays a rush of excitement, an awakened thirst for violence, just before she retaliates with a straight punch aimed toward his torso, twisting her fist to maximize the force, enough to bruise a normal human. She's trained, yes, and precise, but it's still an audacious move, when missing would send her swinging into thin air and threatening her balance. ]

( that displeasure earns an eyeroll — take a fucking compliment, katsuragi — but it's only momentary, his focus more attuned to their fight.

"fight", if it could be called that. there's no hope for her, here, no way she can win, so long as he has his attention entirely devoted to her and there's no chance of someone else joining them. the only chance humans ever have of beating a vampire is to get the drop on them, surprise them in some way, and since this is supposed to be a fair fight — mostly — there's no chance of that. she can't win.

it's adorable that she keeps trying, though. the bloodlust his punch awakens in her is almost like his own, enough so that he smirks and opens the link between them just enough to let a little of his own excitement through. his is tinged by predatory hunger, but that hunger is tightly in check, and all that he wants now is a good fight.

when she throws her own punch, he doesn't move, just takes the blow. it stings, just like it would a human, but it heals as quickly as it hurts — more than that, it allows him an opening. as soon as her fist makes contact, damon grabs misato's wrist, twisting so that he can spin her around and force her down again. )

[ Impossible victories are the only ones worth fighting for.

This isn't a fair match, that much is clear, but Misato has always used insurmountable challenges as fuel for her fire. This isn't about winning either, but about fighting on despite the near certainty of losing. An age-old tradition of ars moriendi taken into daily life, because she doesn't remember what it's like not to fight for survival every step of the way. The strongest are the most complacent, and she doesn't think herself strong. She takes the fall, knowing the precise moment to jerk her hand back, when his grip would be weakest owing to the shape of the human wrist, and gets back to her feet as soon as she can. She licks her lips. ]

Predictable.

[ That, unlike her calling him a bastard, is an insult. She spares no moment to rush back into the fight, preceding her physical attack with a mental one, a sudden deluge of salt water quickly filling a confined space, the faint scent of blood, diluted, followed by her spinning round once for distraction, for momentum, before aiming a roundhouse kick toward his side. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

come on and rise above it

WILDCARD

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sleep friends

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gotta know where to go where angels fear to tread.

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