(no subject)

[shieldofrohan]

Who| Éowyn and OPEN
What| Training. Slash stress relief. Slash destroying dummies and looking for a sparring partner.
Where| The training area
When| After the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Violence towards inanimate objects? Anger issues? Possible injury (but probably not)?

She had held her peace. She had played her part. She had managed to bite down on the grief and the anger and the frustration, and, at least to some degree, keep her cool. Over the few days since she had arrived, she'd even managed to stop glaring at everyone who had the misfortune to cross her path.

But Éowyn was still as frustrated as she had ever been, and so - unwilling though she was to play their games in any way - she found herself gravitating towards what she persisted in thinking of as the armoury. Part of it was, perhaps, that it was the most familiar place here (not that that was saying much) - the room itself was as foreign and overly-technological as everything else, but at least the weapons were like the ones she knew. She might not understand how the doors opened by themselves or what made the lights come on when there was no sunlight or flame, but she understood the feeling of a sword in her hand or a shield on her arm. They were real. They were grounding.

They were also an extremely good way to stop herself from stabbing Capitolites the rest of the time. In here, she could at least let off some of her violent urges on dummies who felt no pain and brought her no threat of punishment. She hadn't forgotten China's mention of the Avoxes, and had been watching them closely around the building. The idea of being like them was enough to keep her compliant, at least for now.

But the Capitol seemed positively to encourage violence, so long as it was the right kind of violence, and the training rooms had quickly become Éowyn's refuge. She spent some time at the survival stations, hoping to find out more about the world around them, but mostly she trained with sword and spear and shield, letting herself imagine as she did so that the dummies had the faces of those who had brought her here.

At the end of the day, though, it was... weak. Poor training, even if it was satisfying. What she needed, she decided, was a sparring partner - someone who could actually put up a fight, rather than standing there and waiting to be beaten. So, that afternoon, she set out to find someone, sword in hand, approaching the nearest person in the training room.

"Have you time to spare?" 

Comments

[revocation]

Cullen, too, was drawn to the familiarity of the training room. It wasn't just familiarity, of course, it was also a long-ingrained need to keep in practice. Without recruits to harangue and no other work required of him, it was easy to spend a lot of his free time here.

It was far better than staring at those headache-inducing screens that were plastered all over the place, or going out of the tower and into the streets, where he was inevitably crowded by a plethora of people - mostly women, interested only in pointing out how "dreamy" he was or some such nonsense.

The sword and shield were, by this point in his life, practically like natural extensions of his arms. He'd been using them regularly since the age of thirteen at least. When a woman approached him, sword in hand, he dropped his weapon to address her.

"Certainly. Are you looking for a sparring partner?" The dummies could really only do so much.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn smiled a little, nodding. "If it suit you," she agreed. "I fear straw men may do more to dull my blade than hone my skill. And you seem a doughty warrior." She had been watching him, on and off, assessing him as an opponent and as an ally. She hated herself for thinking in those terms - the terms they were forcing on her - but she did it anyway, all too aware of the need to understand the people around her.

He was a good fighter. Better than her, she suspected, although it was hard to judge from fleeting glimpses and static fighting. But he also seemed polite enough, and that was a gladness. She'd had more than her fill of rudeness in this place.

"Éowyn," she introduced herself after a moment, dropping into something that was half-bow, half-curtsey. "Lady of Ithilien and Edoras. And, I fear, a little out of practice with a blade, since the war was done. Well met, I hope."

[revocation]

She didn't need to bow, goodness, it wasn't like he was terribly important. Still, though, she seemed polite enough, and, more important, decent with a blade. Cullen could always spar with Cassandra, perhaps even ask Tabris or Alistair to do so - but it would be good, he thought, to try his skill against someone not from Thedas. To see how the style might differ, how he might improve.

"Cullen," he said, not sure if she would shake his hand, so just nodding instead. "Commander of the armies of the Inquisition of southern Thedas. I'm more than happy to spar with a new partner."

[shieldofrohan]

"Well, then." She smiled, taking a couple of steps back and shifting her grip on her sword. There was a light in her eyes that hadn't been there before, a brief glitter of well-suppressed anger that gave her whole face a harder caste. It wasn't aimed at him, of course, but it was there nonetheless. "Shall we?"

Fighting a single opponent wasn't her forte. She had trained for mêlée combat, which was an entirely different matter. In all honesty, she fully expected to be outmatched here. But that might be no bad thing. Better to be pressed to her limits in training than to grow complacent.

[revocation]

He nodded his head a little, stepping back and into a defensive stance, his blunted practice sword held in front of him with long expertise.

He'd had a lot of sparring practice at Skyhold - mostly with recruits, who didn't pose much of a challenge, but he considered it a necessary part of his duties, to assess skills and allow them to meet the man who would be giving them orders, sending them into battle and perhaps to their deaths. It was only fair.

And then, of course, there was Cassandra - far from a recruit, she was more skilled than he and he'd learned much from her over the months, that was for sure.

His first move was a feint, to his right - Eowyn's left. Mostly to test her reflexes, see how she would react. He clearly had no problem sparring with a woman - he was used to it, in fact.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn moved fast, sidestepping the feint, her own sword coming up - not to defend, but to press an attack of her own, slashing low at his legs. Like him, she wasn't really expecting to make contact, simply to test the waters and see what she was up against.

Her own response probably let on more about her fighting style than he'd been expecting. If he continued to attack, he would confirm it; although she knew well enough to parry and guard, Éowyn's first instinct was always to push the attack, to try and get her opponent on the defensive. It was also very obvious that she was used to fighting with a shield; now, without one, she was having trouble knowing what to do with her shield arm, and had almost brought it up into the blow without thinking.

[revocation]

Cullen, too, was used to having a shield along with the sword, and no doubt she would be able to see that in him as he stepped aside. She already reminded him a bit of Cassandra in her style - blunt, rushing headlong without much thought. This lady was a fierce one, no doubt.

Cullen, for his part, was far more cautious, more likely to take that defensive stance, attempt to parry her blows and turn, parry and turn, waiting for an opening to strike - he found one, and struck at her shield arm, quick and hard.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn was a little too slow in lifting her guard, and hissed in pain as his sword came down hard on her arm. That was going to bruise, for sure. She didn't let it throw her too badly off her stride, though, ignoring the sharp ache of it and taking advantage of the moment to slip under his own guard, striking out for his ribs. The pain was good, she decided. It would remind her not to make the same mistake again. She wasn't wearing a shield, and forgetting that was a good way to get yourself killed. With a real sword, she would have been bleeding out by now.

[revocation]

She dealt him a glancing blow to the ribs, and he staggered back, impressed. She definitely had skill, and quick reaction times. He was used to bruises, aches and pains. They were good - it was good to learn from them, if one had the wits.

Spinning carefully, Cullen swung the practice sword low, aiming for a hip check - it was obvious that all the places he was going for were spots where there would be chinks and joints in a suit of armor.

[drinkupmehearties]

As much as it was probably a good idea to frequently practice in the training room, the pirate -- more often than not -- could be found elsewhere in the Tribute Tower, most likely permanently attached to some sort of alcoholic beverage or carelessly passed out in some random location.

But on the rare occasion, Jack actually meanders down to the training center to hone his skills and brush up on his somewhat lacking survival knowledge. Or, in most cases, burn off any pent up frustration or energy that lingered in him.

And this is one of those times.

The pirate had just thoroughly pierced the heart of the nearest dummy with his sword, when the woman approaches him to ask her question. With the sword embedded deep in the dummy's chest, Jack turns to acknowledge her. He offers a warm smile in return, gold and silver glinting in his teeth.

"All the time in the world, luv. What do you need?"

[shieldofrohan]

"What I need is to be home and away from this fell place," Éowyn replied dryly, but she answered his smile with one of her own - albeit one more cautious and more coolly polite. "But failing that, I had hoped to find an opponent more able to put up a fight than men of wood and springs. Had you the time and inclination, sir, I would spar with you. There is no satisfaction in this hollow play-acting of battle."

Truth be told, the combination of his metal-filled smile and casual attitude didn't fill her with confidence. But in such a place as this, she could hardly afford to judge by appearances, and he did seem to be good with a sword. That was what mattered.

[drinkupmehearties]

Her first comment provokes a humored but sympathetic widen of that smile. "Aye, i'n'it true for us all."

The pirate has been in this place for more than three months, now, so he's acutely aware of what it felt like to yearn for what was left back home. But he'd also become achingly familiar with how futile those hopes had started to feel, particularly after his first Arena match, and how thoroughly this place was able to rip a person's dignity to shreds and replace it with an endless sense of powerlessness.

And Jack has had a great many men -- and women -- judge him solely from first impressions, so this wouldn't be the first or last time. He turns to retrieve his sword from the dummy, then graces her with an appraising lift of both eyebrows. "Sure as can be, luv. I've a moment to spare and, as it happens to be, the inclination." Smacking at dummies wasn't a great replacement for actual combat, so he's glad to have someone to spar. Especially when that someone happened to be an attractive woman.

He'd left his hat back in his room, and so instead taps a couple fingers to his temple as an introduction. "Captain Jack Sparrow. What might I call you, darling?"

[shieldofrohan]

"I am the Lady Éowyn, of Ithilien and Edoras." She gives him a little curtsey, not without an edge of humour, and shakes her head. "Though, as we are far from Ithilien and Edoras both, there is little need to stand on ceremony - I shall not take it amiss if you wish to drop my titles, Captain."

Straightening up, she shifts the sword into a two-handed grip, smiles at him, and gives him a little nod. "Whenever you will, then."

[drinkupmehearties]

The curtsy receives a grin and an inclination of his head in return. "Sure enough and well met, luv." A second of consideration, then Jack briefly pops up a finger. "Nevertheless, if it'd be all the same to you, I would insist on the captain bit."

It didn't matter that his ship was nowhere to be found. It was important.

The pirate finally lifts the dulled practice sword one in hand, stance ready. "Aye, let's have at it." He takes a couple slow steps in a circle, gauging her, then darts forward to try and land a strike on her left.

[shieldofrohan]

Her left side is her weak side, of course, her shield-arm still mildly damaged from the Witch-King's blow all those months ago. But that only means that she's more careful to guard it. Although her arm does twitch instinctively to raise a shield that's not there, it's her sword that meets his blow, steel clashing on steel as she parries and sidesteps away.

"I should never dream of such discourtesy," she assures him, circling cautiously for a moment before darting forwards to strike low and hard at his shins.

[drinkupmehearties]

"Much obliged."

His eyes are fixed on the movements Eowyn makes, and when she leaps forward to strike Jack rotates his blade down and around to meet hers -- metal rattling against metal once more -- then forces it upwards and to the side.

In the same motion the pirate steps smoothly and slightly backwards, then quickly lunges forward to strike a blow at her ribs.

[shieldofrohan]

She sees the blow coming, and lets the momentum of his parry carry her into a low roll, slipping under his blade and coming up a foot or two to his right, her shield-arm aching but her sword raised and ready. He's good, she realises, with a grim smile. Better than her. Avoiding that blow was more luck than judgement, and she fully anticipates leaving this sparring session with a few bruises.

That's good. She can work with that.

For now, she doesn't wait, pressing an attack as hard as she can, a flurry of blows from all sides.

[a_minute_younger]

Gary might not be the best choice here. He's approaching the sparring area because it's between the elevators and the treadmills, which he just got off of, but it's easy to see how he might look the part. Dressed in slim workout clothes, a towel splashed with water draped over the back of his neck, Gary is jogging between the weapons racks and training dummies to cool off from his extended run when Éowyn approaches him. He stops, wide-eyed and still prancing from foot to foot, pops out one of his earbuds to catch what she's saying.

"Uh...yeah! Sure." Gary gives a vigorous nod, although his eyes flicker with some apprehension to the practice sword held out at knee-level. She seems nice enough--probably isn't planning on stabbing him with that. Probably. And if she's considering it, Gary decides that it would be best to stay on her good side. "What'cha need?"

[shieldofrohan]

His apprehension didn't go unnoticed. Maybe he wasn't the best choice, but she had made the approach now, and she wasn't about to make assumptions. After all, assumptions about who could and couldn't fight had dogged her for her entire life.

Éowyn smiled as reassuringly as she could, pushing back a strand of hair that had worked its way free from her plait. "I do but seek a partner," she explained. "These dummies serve their purpose, but I would value an opponent who could fight back."

[a_minute_younger]

Gary froze and his expression turned blank. He was not a fighter, not by any stretch of the imagination. Two Arenas and a Mini-Arena had yet to breed that sort of behavior in him. And frankly, he had no interest in starting.

But Éowyn asked very nicely.

"Sure!" Gary chirped through a wide, slightly exaggerated grin. Why was he agreeing to this. This was such a bad idea. Was he going to stop? Of course not. "I can do that. No problem."

A beat. He looked over his shoulders at the weapons rack.

"...Like, right now?"

[shieldofrohan]

She saw his discomfort, and frowned at it. "If you would sooner not," she said gravely, "I would ill force you to it. I had assumed... but come, friend, do not take me for someone who will press you to aught you would not wish. I shall find another, if it suit you better." It seemed like it might, judging by how obviously surprised he was by the idea, and by the slightly hunted nature of his look at the weapons.

Clearing her throat, she shifted her grip on her sword, wishing for a scabbard. "If you will, though, then now seems to me as good a time as any."

[a_minute_younger]

...Wow, she is...incredibly formal. That was surprising enough to stun Gary a second time, his expression frozen on that odd, kind of confused smile he put on a moment ago, while he took the time to process exactly what Éowyn was requesting of him.

But Gary could only dedicate so much attention to parsing what people are saying, even at the best of times. He gave up quickly and just worked with the last thing she said. "Now's good! Sure." Gary spun around and looked over the assorted weapons stacked against the wall. Shit. What should he pick? He'd used a dagger in his scoring sessions, mostly because it seemed easier to run with. But if Éowyn wanted to spar, maybe she wanted something that was on more equal footing.

With a small shrug, Gary gave up on that, too, and grabbed a dulled shortsword from the pile. Then he passed an unconscious glance at Éowyn to affirm that this was an acceptable pick.

[shieldofrohan]

She gave him a small smile, nodding a little, and shifted easily back into a defensive stance, her sword describing a smooth arc as she shifted her grip. "How well-versed are you in swordplay?" she asked, almost conversationally, suspecting that the answer was not very. He had a certain hunted look to him, and she was definitely regretting putting him on the spot. But then, he had agreed to it. She could go easy on him, and that would be enough, for now.

[a_minute_younger]

That suspicion would be correct. "Not at all," Gary grinned, bright and only a little desperate. This did not seem to deter him from trying to mimic Éowyn's sword grip. He was, if nothing else, very enthusiastic to figure out how this all works, judging from the way his wide eyes tracked the tip of his sword with the same gleeful excitement of a child with a toy lightsaber. It's amazing how easily Gary could distract himself like that.

"The goal is to stab the other guy until they stop moving, right?" he quipped, miming an experimental jab at the air. This was pretty cool, once he was on the delivering end! "Sounds easy enough."

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn smiled, almost fondly, and settled her stance a little less stiffly, lowering her sword. He reminded her, in an odd way, of Meriadoc. It was probably that ebullient approach to things - nothing more substantial than that - but it was enough to put her oddly at ease. "It sounds easier than it is," she warned him, shaking her head. "But the goal is not so far from that, it's true. You've never handled a blade at all, ere now?"