station72 | [training log] once you find your center

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[training log] once you find your center

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :153-155
SUMMARY: Get ready to sweat.
WARNINGS: None; will edit if necessary.

EARLY ON DAY 153 after you have had some time to rest, quiet your minds, get used to the feeling of other people in your head and start to know them better than you anticipated or possibly wished to, there is a call.

Unlike before, when you first awoke, it is not warm and sweet and coaxing. It is instead almost devoid of emotion. Nearly as impersonal as a phone call or a person speaking to you across the length of a desk. For those of you who have met him, it is instantly recognizable as Prince, the words fit themselves into whatever language is most comfortable to you, but his tone is the same, the deep, level sound of his voice almost the same as if it were in your ear.

What he says is this:

'New hosts are expected in the Training Wing within --' and here the voice doesn’t falter, but it seems less like words, more like a concept, tapping into the part of your mind with a far clearer understanding of time than you once had. It’s about an earth hour, either way, 'to begin training for your first assignment. Attendance is recommended.'

And with that his voice is gone, leaving behind only the clear impression of a place, how to get there, and your own thoughts. Well, your own and everybody else’s.

IF YOU CHOSE to heed his advice and go to the Training Wing, you will find upon your arrival Prince: taller than average, broad, with warm brown skin and a serious expression across his face. The cape he usually wears is elsewhere, for the moment, and beside him is a stack of dark grey jumpsuits that look very much like the ones both he and Cathaway wear.

If you’ve been to the Training Wing before it seems slightly changed, although it is difficult to say how. Certainly it was this large before, and certainly there were as many chambers. When you approach Prince won’t have much to say at first, but he will hand you your uniform and point you towards the single locker room, and if you ask for clarification he will only say that he will tell you more when you are dressed and the rest have gathered.

You can take this time to talk to your fellow hosts and get used to the slightly honeycomb textured space spandex that you will find fits you to a tee.

When the allotted time has passed, Prince will request you all gather in a single area, and will explain the situation. Your first assignment will be in three day’s time. It isn’t expected to be dangerous, however most of you are completely unprepared. You don’t know your own strength, you don’t know your own skill, and you haven’t had much time to learn.

What follows is a rudimentary explanation of Iota and Rho symbiotic types ((as outlined in the setting)) as well as an explanation of specialized skills. He doesn’t tell you what yours is, and most of his words are a warning- yes, you are stronger than you were before, but you’re not as strong as you could be. Yes, you are faster, but that doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to use it. Yes, you can see and hear better than you could before but it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to look and you don’t know what you’re listening for. He suggests that you set yourself to learning, although he only teaches the willing.

And then the Training Wing is yours.

((OOC Notes: Welcome to the training log!

The Training Wing is large- bigger than the biggest gym, and it contains a number of specialized spaces for Host’s use. What follows is an (incomplete) list of amenities. Have an idea for another space? Drop us a line in the questions section of the OOC info post! The training wing itself is a central hub-type area with a number of hallways that branch out in a vaguely spiraling fashion spanning multiple levels. Below are a list of locations key to this log:

• Lockers - The aforementioned locker space. Features (open) cubbies, shower spaces, a bathroom, towels, and sets of shoes for those of you without proper footwear.

• Track - Centrally located there is a large track, multiple lanes wide, the ground coated in some sort of slightly rubbery, gripping substance. It’s big, it’s open, it’s white, and if you just want to go fast here’s your chance.

• Gym - Located not far from the lockers is an almost traditional gym space, with a number of pieces of exercise equipment, some of which is familiar and some of which is not. There are instructions that will read in a pleasant voice if you seem lost. You will find both strength and cardio equipment arranged in a somewhat sensible manner.

• Training Hall - A large open space with a number of pads on the floors and walls and a wide variety of dummies and protective gear. You’ll also find melee practice weapons ranging from swords and pikes to slightly more exotic weaponry here as well as room for a little good ol’ fashioned wrasslin’.

• Range - Lying closest to the Flight Hangar, this room features a number of targets and projectile training weapons. Here you will find everything from bows and arrows to laser guns. Nothing is capable of doing real damage, but it feels and reacts in a way that’s very real. Handy readouts will tell you exactly how accurate (or inaccurate) you are.

• Pool - It’s a pool, there are lanes, so swim free. Please don’t drown. There is no sauna.

If you have any questions drop us a line at the OOC post

Let's get physical!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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gym

[It's not that her people are unfamiliar with weights and gym equipment, but they tend to go about making and securing their own devices. Without electricity, they can't very well repurpose anything like that. But they have managed, as any culture might when they are both largely warriors and largely brought up to fight.

When Lexa enters the gym, she is surprised about the range of equipment, and only toils around anything that involves buttons or a screen for a short time before setting out for the weights, for anything that involves hanging or climbing, or anything in-between. Her actions are swift, methodical, but very, very human—just a very well-trained one.

When she notices someone watching her, she turns toward them, no longer resonating with the uneasy contempt from her initial arrival.]

Would you like to work together?

[She has a goal, a single-minded purpose behind being here. She knows that she can't come to terms with it on her own.]

training hall

[Her initial movements are like the ones she took in the gym: solo, independent, and without any intention of drawing someone else in. Her choice of weapons tends toward swords and pikes, though she's no stranger to many of them (or some form of them). What does surprise her is the nature of the weapons. Though they are appropriately weighted, her people don't tend toward practice weapons of the same kind. It doesn't prepare you for battle. But she keeps her thoughts to herself. She can trust, at least, that no one will use this opportunity to take her life.

Then again, a well-handled practice weapon could do the same type of harm if she struck the right area. She can think of several.

When she finishes her independent study, she takes up two swords and sits near the edge of the room near the entrance, legs crossed and mind calm. The moment someone joins her, she lifts her head up and takes up one of the practice swords, offering it out.] Shall we?

[For her, this comes with a level of expectation. It resonates around her. Of course, she also wants to see what shape the other Hosts are in. That's a point of concern, as well.]

wildcard

[Lexa will be hitting everything—in the locker room, someone may catch a glimpse of her tattoos, or in the range, they'll see (and feel) her extreme willingness to avoid any and all guns (or gun-like things). Basically, I'm open to whatever, and to her training people or chastising their abilities.]

[ Steve tears his gaze from the sixty foot cargo net (and away from the thought of his defeat against it at Camp Lehigh), staring at the young woman for a moment before nodding at her question. ]

Sure.

[ The jumpsuit has his slim figure framed. There's nothing about his physique that says he has a chance to make it to the top of the net in record time or be much use spotting her with those weights, but he rolls on his heels a bit, energetic for the challenge. ] What've you got in mind?

Understanding your limitations. [If she had followed him up on the cargo net, it would have been nothing to her. Though she's never dealt with anything quite like it, it's obvious from the way that Lexa has been carrying herself that she doesn't face many obstacles. She's still human, painfully so, but the symbiote has changed her (and she's only beginning to see exactly how).]

How much have you trained before?

[Though they are both slender, Lexa assumes that they come from different sides of the "has fought before" spectrum. She waits for his answer while looking around the gym, attempting to find the best place for them to begin.

While there's always a commanding and domineering way in which Lexa carries herself, and it's one that leads to a very assured sentiment coming through the bond of the Nest, she isn't looking down on him. If he was in danger, then he has to be prepared to fight—or at least defend himself here.]

[ A tension across his shoulders and a slight tightening of his jaw at the mention of limitations. He's heard that one before, over and over, from the well-meaning and less so. No one's more aware of his own limitations -

or, was. This new vigor is something else.

The flicker of disappointment is quickly to set aside in favor of answering her question - acceptance that she isn't speaking down to him, but its replaced by a hazy sense of uneasiness. Not for his own list of experience (or lack of) - to the surety that passes between them through the branches of the Nest, the foreignness of it even after days of being bombarded. ]

Learned some boxing from a friend. [ a beat ] I can take apart an M1 Garand and piece it back together quick enough. [ Quick enough not to get shouted at too bad. ]

[The knowledge of what boxing even is is vague, passed down to her by her people. It's not their choice of combat, but she can see the use in it. She nods after a moment.]

Boxing is a fine start. [Hand to hand combat has a larger range of applications. It means no reliance on weapons or on others. It's the purest means of survival.] But I don't know what an M1 Garand is. Before we proceed, can you explain?

[Her assumption is that it's a type of technology that never made it through the burning of the planet, but she doesn't honestly have any clue.]

[ Oh - ]

It's a rifle. A gun. [ Standard issue. He needs to start remembering how most names don't mean anything.

He waits, making sure there's some recognition for the word gun from her. It's possible, he realizes, that she might come from a place that doesn't even have those. ]

And how difficult is this task? [There is clear recognition of the word "gun," but she knows little about the differences between them. They are all swift and violent in their ability to kill. They can take out countless people if they are used "correctly," and they are much too dangerous to use.

But she's still against them for a number of reasons.]

And why did you handle the gun in the first place?

[That's also important, she decides. It will give context to his life. The people who use guns in her world have very specific reasons for doing so.]

Not that hard, once you figure out where all the parts go. [ There had been a lot more of them than he thought. And, well, he was much better at assembling and disassembling than he'd been the few times they actually tested the volunteers on their ability to fire them.

He straightens his shoulders, tone and expression hardening a bit. ] I'd just enlisted, back home. There's a war going on.

[ He's got no particular affection for guns either, but you had to know how to use one if you were getting shipped out.

(even believing that his presence would endanger them, he feels that slight ache of leaving his friends and home behind in the midst of war) ]

My people refuse to use them, but I agree that it seems simpler. [Of course, they could figure it out if they wanted. Even Indra had voiced the possibility that they might have to change their perspective on things, but thus far, they hadn't. Lexa hoped they wouldn't have to—after all, Clarke's pacifistic approach to ensuring their future was not an unwise one.]

Even in war. We have a lot of them. [She feels that ache, and sympathizes with it (though she misunderstands the meaning: she assumes it has to do with the pain of war).]

Still, that gives me enough information. You'll want to build up your endurance first. Speed, strength, before you focus on applying them to something like that net. [She motions to the net itself with a nod of her head.]

We'll begin with running drills.

[ That seems to surprise him, the idea that guns exist in her world but her people won't use them. The Great War had its own horrors, weapons banned from use. But there were always bigger tanks or better guns getting built, faster planes and deadly bombs.

Better soldiers. ]

I can do that.

[ Running drills. He nods, giving the net one last side-long glance. ]

[The surprise doesn't surprise her. Even Clarke's people had wondered why they wouldn't do that, and it's what led to the suggestion that maybe they should. She doesn't offer an explanation, though. Explaining the nuances of her culture to a stranger (no matter how much they can feel one another's emotions) isn't something that interests her.]

Good. But first, what should I call you? [Familiarity is important. Those she trains are meant to go on to become commanders like herself. That will be different here, where training is only a matter of survival. But just the same, she believes that here, their lives should be valued.

(Even if the value is largely so that they can fight, so that they can return to their worlds. And even then, she knows there will be some necessary losses along the way.)]

[ Introductions work a little funny here - he's becoming more appreciative of the normalcy of spoken conversation. It's only going to get stranger from here on out. ]

The name's Steve Rogers. [ And with that he takes a short step forward, extending his hand to shake. ] You can call me Steve.

[ He's got no titles to speak of. ]

[Just as there would be with others, there's a fleeting hint of hesitation with the extended hand. It's not a gesture that her people utilize, but she's grown used to it because of Skaikru.

She takes his hand after a moment and nods.]

Steve, then. I'm Lexa. [There is a faint resonance between them, an indication of a title unspoken: Commander. She's getting used to suppressing it, knowing full well that among these people, she has to prove that she deserves that title.

(Of course, there's a further, hidden underlying hint of agitation at that. She is the Commander for a reason, and if nothing else, she has been able to trust in that identity.)]

[ There's a real second where she swears this woman has to be talking to someone else. Ducks her head away to check there wasn't someone behind her that she was mistaken for.

But no, that expectation seems levelled at her exactly. So she takes the handle of that blade, tentatively. Is she holding it right? She can't tell, it feels unwieldy in her hand. ]

Are you sure? I've never used one of these before.

[ There's a guilt prickle, because it's rather that she's never fought anyone before at all. Athena and Zer0 used them often enough, and there's a certain understanding that comes from watching others fight, that she'd need another weapon outside of a gun. Something for if she got stuck in close quarters, ran out of bullets, whatever it was. Her powers sure, but those weren't exactly absolute all the time. Too controllable at the moment. ]

[The prickle of guilt surprises her. Lexa's brow furrows briefly, almost imperceptibly, before she schools her features into the same, unfazed neutrality that she usually carries. Both of her feet press into the floor as she rises to a stand, spine straightening as she looks around. She motions for Angel to follow her, hands holding her own sword with a proper grip, just in case she's willing to watch.]

What have you used before, if anything?

[Since meeting Skaikru, Lexa is understanding of the differences in her cultures versus others. While there are farmers and builders among her people, people who are not meant to fight, that doesn't mean that they don't know the basics of taking up a blade. Among Skaikru, there are many who came to the ground ill-prepared to fight.

Of course, there is the other alternative: guns, which she has had to accept as a part of Skaikru's identity after it was a part of the Mountain Men's. Still, she has her feelings of contempt toward them, and she doesn't think that they instill the right instincts in those that use them.

But she knows that isn't true for all. Either way, she awaits the answer, turning once they hit their spot and waiting.]

[ It's hard not to feel a prickle of envy of as she watches this woman move. The same way as she had watched Maya and Lilith once. Shifting like her weapon was part of her, a surety that rolled off her in waves. She didn't stumble in her own skin. Angel had the stomach for violence, gotten it young, because what else was there to do? But being here grates in a way she had expected. Guilty, because she's always guilty, frustrated because -- she spent a life encouraging the violence of others, watching psychos and bandits slaughter each other, and her father was worse than all of them, and what was she?

Useless, right now.

But better to learn, than to wallow. So she takes the moment to adjust her grip in mimicry. It immediately feels wrong, because it's more weight on her wrist, on muscles never used that way, and she grips too tight in compensation. Fingers holding stiff around the pommel of the blade. Focused on that as they come to a stop, and realises that she's forgotten to answer her. Looks up, trying to stand straighter, all student imitating teacher, before she responds. ] I've never fought before, not with swords, or guns, or anything. So you might need to start at the beginning with me, sorry.

[Truthfully, it's what she fears most. They are safe here, but will they be safe outside of this Station? When they step outside for a mission or something else, will they find that they are able to be competent, to deal with whatever threats might face them? Will the "people" they've been rescued from come to find them, well aware of the fact that they've already bonded with the symbiote inside of them?

So many questions. But Lexa has to prevent the worst case scenario. It just might be one of the only scenarios. She worries.]

You will hear this, but the blade is an extension of your arm. Don't grip it as if you're holding on for dear life. That will make it easier for your opponent to hurt your hand, your arm, to take advantage of the tight muscle and hurt you. That's not to say that you hold it loosely. [Her voice throughout all of this is clear and authoritative; she's clearly trained someone before.] But be confident in your hold.

[The basics are the basics. But more than that, Lexa wants to get a read on her body language, to see how she reacts. It'll give her an idea of where to begin.

Her people are trained from childhood. No one is as old as this woman.]

[ She tries it, tries to loosen the hold somewhat until her wrist can move a bit easier. It's still uncomfortable, still requires more grip than she has. But she shifts it, trying to do as she is told. ]

So loose but... not so much that I'll drop it.

[ Repeats it back as she tries to get it right, and she feels like she's got it right, and unsure, she holds up for inspection, to be adjusted. Something to being a blank canvas, even a little bit is better than nothing. No bad habits, because there's no habits at all. Her stance is loose, and more like she's ready to bolt if she needs to. Whatever scared might count for. ]

[Palpable discomfort won't help someone's strength. Seeming confident in someone's ability to fight is what matters most. If she seems weak, she'll be targeted. If she serves a purpose, she will be held on to, even if she's dragged to another camp. Of course, their enemies want them dead, but their enemies likely won't be the only ones they'll face.

What Lexa knows, understands, of a life of survival is that there are always threads that get in the way, pieces that complicate matters. No one can work alone. No one can have resources that depend on just themselves. That's why it had been important to bring together the coalition. They had warriors from all different walks of life under one umbrella, all aware of the importance of joining together to face their enemies.

Together, they wouldn't fight and cut each other's numbers down. Together, they would succeed.

The Nest offers a similar yet entirely different scenario, one where safety is and may remain a risk for a very long time.]

Relax. Set it down for a moment. [They won't continue forward. Not yet. Titus' lessons move through her mind. How to approach them?]

Why did you come here? [A beat.] Well, first, before you answer that. What is your name? I am Lexa. [To engage in something more comfortable, or to give the illusion of it. With Lexa, much has a political, diplomatic air to it.]

[ She lowers the weapon, worried that she'd somehow completely misunderstood completely as the tip of the training blade settled beside her on the ground. Holding it out from her body careful, making sure not to drop it. ]

I'm, uhm, [ The casual diplomacy is something she can follow that -- that she does know. To put people at ease, to talk them through otherwise difficult situations, give them hope in the face of the insurmountable.

It's just odd to be on the other end of it. Flicks her gaze from the weapon up to her face again. ] I'm Angel. Thank you for helping me.

[ As for the second part, she stays quiet. She doesn't want to say the truth, not because she's practised at lying or finds a joy in it, but it's pathetic, but she knows what a waste her life is, how it sounds outlied. ] I came for the same reason everyone else did, it was an escape.

It was more than that. We can escape a great deal of things. It was the only option available to us if we hoped to live, but we could have accepted our death. We didn't. [Death is not something that Lexa fears so much as pain being caused for her people. She hoped to go along for survival, to ensure that she could return later. Survival is something she understands, but she also knows that it might have been her time.

Of course, that she took the path of escape, that she saw it as a way out, means she accepts that it just isn't her time.

Still:] Death is an escape just as much as living here is an escape. You valued your life enough to keep going. That's why you're here.

[Underlying this belief is the fact that someone recently reminded Lexa of the value of her life. Drawing upon the heart of that wisdom makes Lexa miss Clarke painfully; that pain resonates, but there's some happiness that she can draw upon, too. She knew Clarke long enough to deliver these words, and hopefully, by coming here, she secured her survival.]

[ It's sobering, that pain with the inflection of deeper meaning, words that are precious, because of where they come from, who said them. Weighted, that way, where they would mean a lot as they were, the feeling behind them. Makes her stop in her fiddling, her eyes fixed on the other woman. Nodding once to show she was listening and something as faint as a tremor in return for the rest.

It's like standing on the edge of a cliff, what this woman spells out. All that's left is for her to jump over the edge. Her breath stills, and it's like something clarifies sharp and quickly. She chose this, she chose to do something other than die, because she hadn't ever wanted to. It was just the only thing she could do.

Living was far more terrifying than she ever had an understanding of, but she was never going to turn her back on it. Not now that it is finally hers to truly have. She was sick of being just a shell and a collection of bundled wires.

So once more, now, with conviction, the fear and the want and the need to grasp with her own two hands. ]

I know. [ Death was a choice, living was a choice, they had been her only ones. Says it with that pain in return, says it with a weapon gripped in her hand. This was hard, but she didn't care, she didn't care how hard any of this was. She was going to do this, for herself. ] Please, show me.

[The meaning is clear. Or rather: the shared understanding is clear. They are here to fight for their lives. The fight didn't end with the escape. For as long as they would live, there would be more fights. Lexa has only ever known a life of war, and she had just stepped onto a path where she had a chance for something else when she had come here.

She'll never know what that was truly like. She can only hope that her efforts to make that possible for her people didn't go in vain.

(Hope is a funny, fragile thing when it comes to Lexa. She doesn't really believe in its existence, not really.)

But people can make hopes reality by taking charge of the life in front of them.]

Much of this is repetition at first. Much of it is set that way so that you don't injure yourself while fighting another. You'll learn what you can manage in time. [The practice blades are also lighter, easier to manage, and she shifts her own back up, placing her left hand behind her back. The finer methods of fencing hadn't passed down to her people (that would have been impossible), but there are simply things that would be passed among any culture.]

What you can learn here can be applied to a smaller blade. If it seems that will suit you better, we'll proceed there. [But it's clear that she's undertaking this as her responsibility. To Lexa, it's a duty, and an important one. She can't just trot around acting like she knows everything. Being a leader (no matter how much she isn't one here—which is a reality she's reluctant to recognize) comes with actions as well as words.It comes with obligations, and this is one she takes on gladly.]

[ It's something she understands, fighting doesn't end, fighting never ends, whether that's here, or on some wasteland plain of Pandora, or on a planet a hundred years away. She's died screaming and choking on purple stained blood, she might die like that again. Doesn't change anything, not really.

But she can change how she meets it, this time. Not through machinations. She's done with it - she'll burn this time. She wants to be bright, not a cold girl and shell of a body. One day she won't just look with envy, she can been seen as something other than pathetic.

For now, she gives herself over to Lexa's teaching, to her keeping. Her attention is rapt, given completely to observing and storing away. In that manner, her mind is exact, controlled and regimented so that everything has a place. Like she's build a folio just around Lexa herself. No detail left spared. ]

This one's a little heavy so far, but I think that's just practise. I've never really used these muscles before. [ But Prince had already said there was nothing for that but training. ]

You'll want to find weights to train with, as well. [There are none in here, but Lexa assumes she's seen the thorough arrangements elsewhere. If, for some reason, she didn't take in what was available, she'll only supply that information then.] Working with a blade will do a great deal for the strength in your arms, but you'll need more than that. Either way, there is a good chance that you'll be sore early on in your training. Get used to it.

[Not just from blows, but from adjusting to the repetitive motion. Bruising of the muscle will come into play with the pain at hand, but there will be much to change.]

But so long as you practice, you'll adjust. If you trade down for a smaller weapon, I advise you to keep up the practice with something larger. [But that's a bridge to cross later. This is all rather preemptive, as it's only the beginning.

Still, showing that there's some flexibility to it is important.]

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circumspector - 2016-04-03 14:28 (UTC) - Expand

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