houseofcards_rp | [ota] always tests

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[ota] always tests

Supposedly, it was just sparring. That's what the young Seven had said he was interested in, to learn. But Julien could see the gleam in the younger man's eye that suggested it was more than that. More about seeing if the Ace who was now proven to be fallible could fall even further.

At least, in sparring among Spades, it's not unheard-of to beat your opponent black and blue. Bruises to remember the lesson by. More unheard-of is Julien helping the young Seven back to his feet, apparently all courtesy. Though the hissed come back when you're worthy is rather less than courtesy, but for the boy's ears only.

Of course, it was only the first of many such tests and lessons Julien expected he'd be getting in the near future, looking for weakness. And in this particular case he was fairly certain the boy had been put up to it by a supposed friend to be the punching-dummy, as it were.

He shakes his head, flexes his hands, wipes the sweat from his face. Then he raises his eyebrows at the small audience that seems to have gathered in the practice room. "Anyone else? Because I'd really rather go have some tea."

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It's instinct to move and pick up the blade, to start to hand it back before realizing he's moved away. Her exhale has only the slightest sort of shiver.

"...because I don't-- train with enough of a variety of individuals." Saying it helps get breathing back under control. "I don't... spend enough time having things changed to... provide an appropriate level of comfort with the... actual way in which people fight."

Spades aren't the only Cards who beat their opponents black and blue. Sophie manages not to wince even if the impromptu "lesson" brings back memories she'd rather forget. But soon enough she reverted to watching his form, the way he stood, if he had a pattern, any pattern--and sometimes no pattern can be one--did he favor one side over the other.

In the end she has to laugh at herself. You can take the girl out of the fight, but not the fighter out of the girl.

"Do you enjoy one style over the other, Master--" she stops the word in time and amends it, "Nine? Or a combination like just now?"

"So you were afraid you weren't going to be good enough."

That's what she's saying, isn't it.

He'll raise his eyebrows slightly at her almost-misstep of title but not comment on it.

"I expect one particular style makes one predictable, Miss Berthier. Don't you?"

Of course, were someone to challenge him in a particular style that person was highly trained in, they'd have something of an edge over him even despite the Nine's speed and cunning.

She wants to deny it, feet settling back into proper ready position and body sinking just a hair into preparation. But she can't.

"That it would hurt."

Because she wasn't good enough and because the blade was sharper than the floor was hard.

He doesn't really have to crouch down anymore to be eye-level with her, but this is important, important enough not to tower over her to say it. And presumably, she'll follow him down too. So he settles into a crouch and looks at her steadily.

"What is there to fear in pain, Eileen?"

He holds out his hands so she can see all the thin lines crisscrossing them from various cuts. And then he tugs off his shirt so she can see the bullet wound on his left shoulder, the other scars and marks of his life. Though at least not the stripes on his back.

"It makes you stronger."

It's true. Of course it's true. She knows the scars on his hands. She knows the small nicks and scrapes that have turned into her own scattering of scars already.

It's the bullet wound that makes her since. Her stomach twists and her heart skips at the same time, shoulders turning slightly in on themselves before she can catch a deeper breath.

"...it's still-- unknown. Real... real physical pain, I mean."

He's not going to introduce her to it. Not necessarily. Not here for certain, where anyone can see. He can just imagine how that would get spun and he'd find himself suddenly outside of the Deck entirely.

So he puts his shirt back on instead and nods.

"I expect your body's pain can be no worse than the other sorts you've already experienced, Eileen." Think about it in that context. And he'll stand again. "Why don't we trade roles, mm?"

It's a good point. Something to focus on while he pulls himself together again.

What could hurt more than knowing she would probably never see Lancelot again? More than Edgar and Andrew's funerals?

"--trade?" It catches her slightly off-guard from her thoughts. "Why?"

So she has to attack someone.

So he can show her different methods of disarming.

"You cannot always be on the defensive, Eileen."

"...why not?"

She knows why not. She knows that sometimes, even if she challenges in poetry the rest of her life, even if she only lifts a knife in self-defense, she's going to need to know how to attack as much as she knows how to defend.

Her jaw was set this way, just the same, the first time she used human-shaped targets.

"I'd definitely agree. It doesn't mean one doesn't have one." She smiles suddenly. "Or that one should admit to such when asked impertinent questions by a curious bystander."

It depends on one's purpose. A mixture of styles is best in a real fight. Specific arts are usually chosen in challenges, at least in the case of Diamonds.

"And sometimes," she muses recalling her challenge with Gerhardt, "one holds back because swift defeat isn't the goal."

"I am not saying you have to actually make the first move, necessarily. But you cannot always let your opponent come to you or you will find yourself losing ground."

And getting backed into a corner.

"Sometimes it is better to end a fight swiftly."

Most times, really. And she couldn't always count on simply disarming.

"Attack, Eileen."

Good point, Sophie. You'll even get something of an answering smile in return.

"How interesting you bring that up," considering his conversation with Eileen earlier, "and why, pray tell, would you not wish to end a fight swiftly, Miss Berthier?"

Emphasis on you.

"Why when the the fight is only a pathway to the real objective. And you, Sir?"

"I find I cannot particularly disagree with that. Should I worry myself about your objectives, then?"

Since you know. You're here. While he's 'fighting'.

She hates that it's true. She hates that it's right. She hates knowing that there will come a day when she won't have to make a choice because it will have been made for her.

She's glad, in a tiny piece of herself, that she'll be prepared for it.

There's the faintest stutter of her hand as she moves to follow the directive. The motion is otherwise clean, the follow-through clean of hesitation.

He nods, briefly, as she moves but it doesn't stop him from disarming her and letting the tanto clatter to the floor.

"You've practiced against one of the dummies, have you not?"

Her movement to free her wrist again, grab the blade off the floor, is instant. She needs to reset or she'll start to fret again.

"They don't fight back. It isn't the same."

She's meant to come again, right?

As he's moving, now just avoiding her attacks, blocking as necessary, but not actually stopping the flow of their movements.

"They don't fight back," he agrees, "and that is why you must know how to deal with those who do."

"But how--"

He'll forgive her, hopefully, if her sentences are choppy. Her attention, after all, is where it should be: on his hands, his feet, her own blade.

"--can you be-- really pre-- prepared for someone who's-- actually trying-- to really kill you?"

That will be a lesson for another day. When she's a little taller, maybe.

"I'll show you," he promises. "Not today."

And eventually, he'll disarm her again and halt the lesson. "I think that's enough for now."

It's always a little disconcerting, having lessons come to an end. Seeing the world for such an intense period of time as shifting, dangerous, deadly, and then suddenly being told to see things 'normally' again. Maybe living with mild paranoia would make the transition easier.

She lets her hair down again before moving to take the tanto to put back. Her face falls into a frown behind her loose hair. "...why not today, Julien?"

She's taken aback by that, but manages to regroup. "I shouldn't think so. I kept Zoe company last night while Victor was dragged off for his bachelor's and thought I'd get in a workout while I could."

Besides, even Sophie would hardly go about blabbing her intentions if she did have an ulterior motive. She wonders if she's the first Diamond who's spoken to him since that incident.

"I think we've both had enough work for today."

It's not really the real answer, but it will do for now.

"I wouldn't want to keep you from your other studies."

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[ota] always tests

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Because they are fated to meet in Spade gyms?

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They're quite conveniently public that way

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