[OPEN]

[showbizpanache]

Who| Kurt Hummel and YOU.
What| Kurt is blowing off some stream and trying to practice using a bow, perhaps in vain. Come bug him.
Where| The training center.
When| Earlier in the day.



[He's getting better at this, he thinks.

Or he wants to believe that, anyway. His arrows never fly straight, and half the time his wrist cramps up and he can't let them fly at all. Still, he wants to get good at this so badly. There's no way he'll use a knife or a spear or something that would require him to feel someone die, feel their blood spill, not if he can help it. No, this is better, distance is better, even if this is so impractical and he feels like giving up a little more every time an arrow bounces limply off the opposite wall.

If there's any skill he's always been good at, it's perseverance. And there's no way he's going to stand around and wait to die like Eponine had suggested. He doesn't want to kill people, but he has to survive. It doesn't take a genius to do the math.]

Comments

[showbizpanache]

[It's really impossible to get training done without someone else around--and even though they're always being watched anyway, Kurt longs for some illusion of privacy. He frowns at the other boy, irritated and uncertain.]

Forgive me for my lack of expertise in handling murder weapons. How exactly should I be doing it, pray tell?

[wantwhatiwant]

Fuck if I know, never held a bow before. [He shrugged, pulling a face at Kurt's words.] Odds of you finding one in the arena is low anyway.

[showbizpanache]

So you felt the need to criticize because...?

And I'm quite aware of that, thank you.

[wantwhatiwant]

Because doing the same thing with the same failed result over and over is stupid.

[He rolled his eyes]

[showbizpanache]

It's called practicing. And for your information, I hit rather close to the target last time.

[He looks ruffled.]

Honestly, unless you're going to contribute anything of value, I highly suggest you walk away, because I am in no mood for comments from the foul-mouthed peanut gallery.

[wantwhatiwant]

Yeah, real close. [He leaned against the wall] It's a free... well fuck it isn't but I've got as much right to be here as you.

[He should just walk away, but he's not in the best of moods.]

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt huffs, because the guy is right, even if he's being an ass about it. He sucks in a breath to try and calm himself down, then gets back to practicing.

His arms are shaking a little, exhausted, but he feels sharper now. It's like the other boy's harsh words are making him focus a little more, appealing to his competitive side--something that hadn't reared his head since he got here and didn't have Rachel to keep him on his toes.

Keeping what Eva said in mind, he tries again. This time, his arrow hits the edge of the target, lodged firmly in place.

He gasps, delighted, then quickly tries to pretend he isn't as excited as he is.]

[wantwhatiwant]

[He nods, actually impressed] I think you need to control your breathing a bit more, if it's anything like a gun [Which it wasn't he knew, but surely aiming was the same] If anything it calms your thoughts.

[showbizpanache]

[He looks uncomfortable at the mention of a gun; he doesn't want to think of this thing as similar to one of those. It's bad enough he has to learn to hurt people with this.

Still...]

Have you used one of those, then? A gun?

[wantwhatiwant]

Yeah [He shrugged, like it would do him any good here] I was on my way to basic training when I got brought here, and was in ROTC before that. [Kurt was from Blaine's world, and Blaine had known what that was so he assumed Kurt would too.]

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt doesn't. He looks mildly confused, but more than a little concerned.]

You're very young.

[wantwhatiwant]

I'm seventeen. [Just.] That's not very young.

[showbizpanache]

I'm seventeen too.

[wantwhatiwant]

See, exactly.

[showbizpanache]

N-no, you misunderstand. Seventeen is much too young to be using weapons. Our circumstances are deplorable, quite honestly, and--and I'm sorry that it was like that for you at home as well.

[He really does look genuinely upset about it.]

I think weapons are terrible. All of them are.

[wantwhatiwant]

[His face darkened] I chose to join the army, no one fucking made me.

[He didn't roll his eyes, just. But only because this was Blaine's friend and Ian respected Blaine.] You some sort of pacifist?

[showbizpanache]

Of course I am. Violence is abhorrent.

[wantwhatiwant]

[A raised eyebrow] And how's that working for you?

[showbizpanache]

I haven't compromised my beliefs, if that's what you mean.

[He looks profoundly uncomfortable.] I'm simply adapting to the best of my ability. But I don't plan on killing anyone.

[wantwhatiwant]

I doubt many people plan on killing others. Unless your a fucking psychopath it's not something you wake up plotting.

[He shrugs] It just happens [Said casually, as if Ian had ever killed anyone. So you never even got into a fight?

[Ian's... never met a pacifist before...]