hadriel | Video 2 (Backdated to the 12th)

Great. Know where I can find her?

[she sighs]

Look, all I'm trying to do is--is cast a wide net, okay? I'm just saying that I'm not fucking picky about what I learn, just that I do learn.

She is in your phone contacts. Send her a message.

[He huffs, giving her a faintly vexed look.]

Do you wish to fight in close quarters or at a distance? How much strength do you possess? How quickly do you tire? Would you rather stand your ground or strike and retreat? Is it monsters or people that you would defend yourself against? Furthermore, it is no good learning to shoot a gun if you do not possess one. You will find none in the armoury.

[barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes]

Close quarters, not much, not quickly, big fan of not dragging shit out, and people.

[Was that so hard? his expression suggests.]

Then Ikaruga is a fine choice. I would also suggest that you learn to wield a dagger as a secondary defence. They are small and weigh so little that you may ever keep one on your person unhampered. That they are easily concealed is another advantage.

[He pauses.]

I have mastered their art among others.

[yes her expression says back]

Okay. Daggers. I'm assuming the armory has those?

[she waits. patiently. really]

Yeah? So that is something you could teach me.

Yes.

[He nods once, decisively.]

I freely offer it.

[But she's certainly not obligated to take him up on that offer.]

Okay. Guess I'll make a stop there.

[she sits the sword off to the side, uncrosses her legs, gets up, and starts to walk through the house]

Cool. Then, I'm accepting it. Where should I meet you?

[He touches his knuckles to his mouth briefly, then answers:]

There is a watchtower further south of the armoury. Meet me there.

[George is a pill. she genuinely does have a reason for it ~~which she is not discussing~~, but she's still a pill. sorry. :(

she's left her house and is on her way to the armory]

Sounds good. And I guess I should introduce myself or something. I'm George.

[His eyebrows briefly raise at that, before he dips his head.]

My name is Henry Percy.

[With introductions done, he reaches off screen to pull his own dagger from his belt and holds it up.]

You want one like this. [He puts it away after a moment, then says:] I will see you shortly.

[If there's nothing else...]

[what? she'd been polite. ish. by her standards]

Hi, Henry.

[eyes the dagger and makes a mental note of what to look for] Yeah, see you soon?

[she's at the armory now and having a look around]

[Henry ends the feed and leaves her to it.

He waits where he promised, though since then he's put on his gorget and breastplate over his mail. It's better to deal with the excess warmth they trap than to go without if they're doing this; a dagger cannot pierce steel armour.

There is a single door into the watchtower. The lower floor consists of a staircase leading up and a single room. Henry waits in that room, sitting on a chair with an elbow rested on a small table. A second chair is tucked in at the other side. There is a storage chest in the far corner.

While there's not a huge amount of floor space, it's enough for wielding daggers. And inside they are sheltered from the heat of the sun(s) bearing down from above.]

[and George makes it to the armory and spends a fair time poking around, looking for something that looks like the dagger Henry had.

she's taking this seriously, she really is. despite her attitude problem. the reason for which will not be discussed. not with a near stranger, anyway.

she sighs and calls herself stupid several times before she finally settles on a dagger and makes her way out of the armory.

she knocks on the door when she first arrives at the watchtower. that's just being polite, right? whatever, she sucks at being polite. so she opens the door, walks up the stairs, and hovers awkwardly at the door opening, waving at the man inside]

Hey. It's, uh. Me. Obviously.

[When she arrives, he looks to her and rises to his feet, briefly dipping his head in greeting.]

George.

[Seeing the way she awkwardly hovers there in the doorway, he wordlessly beckons her in with one hand. Taking it for nervousness, he says:]

I am a knight. You are safe.

[yeah, she's definitely nervous. she's bad at people, especially ones she doesn't know very well. she enters the room, though]

I--figured I was, but. Yeah. And you're a knight? Like with the armor and sword fighting and chivalry and all of that stuff?

Precisely.

[Henry pulls his dagger free of its sheath, which hangs from his sword belt on his right side. At the left side is his actual arming sword, which remains sheathed. He looks at its blade, then to George.]

Repetition of the correct form builds the instincts and speed that shall save your life, however tedious you find it. If you are lazy now, you will fight poorly in battle. If you hesitate, if you are uncertain, then your foe has won. If their technique and understanding of these arts is better, you have lost. Practice exists to rid you of those weaknesses. Do you understand?

[He will know if she does not practice in her own time, and he is strict on commitment; this is making that clear from the outset.]

Waste not my time, for I shall not waste yours.

[He won't stand for the former. His lifetime of experience, honed in battle since he was fourteen, is valuable.

With that said, he eases the harsh edge of his words.]

We shall begin with the most important skill of all: how to strike, at its most basic.

Edited 2018-01-23 02:21 (UTC)

Cool.

[she watches him curiously.

uncertainty, hesitation, and laziness are how George has spent all of her life and most of her afterlife. but she's not going to back down. stubbornness and the desire to prove herself as not being worthless may end up being her saving graces.

she nods]

Okay. I understand.

[all she has to occupy her time are her shifts at the temporary clinic. she'll have plenty of time to practice]

I get that. No one likes to waste their time.

[she's getting that impression, yes. being harsh with her may actually be the best tactic, if only because it's going to make her try harder, even if it's just to prove a point]

All right. How d'you do that?

[If he is harsh, it's not personal; it's simply his natural disposition.]

It begins with a balanced stance. Your feet should be shoulder width apart. Step forward with your right foot. Bend your legs. Your knee should not overlap your foot, else you risk injuring it. Keep your back straight, but remain loose. Make sure that you are comfortable. If not, adjust the position of your hips and foot.

[It's easy as breathing for him to slip into the correct stance, but he allows more time for her to.]

For this, grip your dagger with the blade held downwards.

[He changes his grip on his dagger to demonstrate; the blade is down at his little finger end and the pommel is up at the thumb end while his hand and wrist are in a neutral position.]

[still, it will be a good motivator.

she listens carefully and tries to move herself into position as he lists off how it should be. tension makes her at first, but she mutters under her breath about being loose, damnit and she improves slowly, finally getting into a stance that feels comfortable and (she thinks) is what he means]

Okay. I can do that.

[and she does, if very slowly and painstakingly]

You shall need to be faster if you hope to stand a chance.

[It's fine, but it does concern him that it takes her so long to do something so basic — it suggests a lack of bodily awareness. That is a poor quality in a fighter.]

Keep your hands at the height of your chest. You shall use your left arm to defend and grapple when we move into actual plays. In your resting position keep your elbows comfortably bent.

[With their posture correct, they are ready to actually work on striking.]

Power must come from your whole body, not merely a small part. If your strike is weak it is easily defended against or set aside. Even should it hit, 'twill do but minor harm. Watch closely.

[He goes slow, so she can see the principle clearly. The tortion of his hip drives the thrust, and his shoulders and arms follow through smoothly, and he steps with the strike. His arm does not overextend; nor does the strike. The full power is thus transferred.]

A strike begins in your hips. Let your shoulder and arm and hand follow through naturally; you do not swing your arm but push you elbow to full extension. Flail and you you shall waste most of your strength. Step when the turn of your hips demands it.

[He repeats the action of striking, adding a little speed with each repetition, until he is doing it as fast as it should be, with deadly force.]

It is but one smooth push from your hips through to your hand.

Hey, I'm just beginning here.

[a large part of that can be blamed on the fact that George is so uncomfortable in her own skin and doesn't like herself very much.

but she tries. she listens intently and watches closely when she's told to watch, making mental notes about what she is and is not to do.

the part about the strike beginning in her hips makes her furrow her brows slightly, before relaxing her face and nodding.

she can't help but be impressed by his skill. she wants to do this. she wants to not fuck this up. she wants it very, very badly]

So, like this?

[she takes what she's been told and what she's observed and copies it as best she can. much, much better than the first try]

[Henry nods, satisfied that she's not making any critical errors.]

Excellent.

[That's much more encouraging.]

Now repeat it, until I tell you to stop.

[He wants to ensure that George gets a real feel for it, and to be certain that she can do it again and again before they move onto the second part of striking well. It's important that she feels comfortable powering them correctly first. The next part is harder, mentally.]

[she can't help grinning a little at his assessment, though she doesn't stop practicing]

Thanks!

[when she really sets her mind to doing something, she does well]

I can do that.

[and she does, improving by increments each time. and there are times when Reaper metabolism comes in handy]

[Eventually, he says:]

That is enough.

[The lack of corrections suggest that he's satisfied with her form.]

Now you shall strike me. [He raises a hand and taps the left side of his neck — or more precisely, the solid metal of his gorget protecting it.] Right here. A dagger cannot pierce my armour; I shall block any wayward attempts. What is important is that you learn this truth: you must stab through a person. Not merely at them. Though you dagger hits here [he taps his gorget again for emphasis] you must aim for my right shoulder, through my neck.

[Lowering his hand, he holds George's gaze steadily.]

These arts are no game. Your purpose in wielding a weapon is to greatly wound or kill your foe. They work not without that intent.

[He would never fault anyone for being unwilling to hurt or kill another living person. It's admirable in its own right. But one who wields a deadly weapon is a hypocrite if they pretend they have any other use than violence. And a weapon wielded halfheartedly will always lose against one wielded with full purpose. To take up a weapon is to commit to causing someone harm.]

Okay.

[she stops to listen and pay attention again. she swallows when she's directed to strike him--what if she hurts him, despite the armor?--but she straightens up, not wanting to show weakness.

she meets his gaze seriously]

Got it. I can do that.

[and she can. she's been a witness to all kinds of deaths, from the gruesome to the mundane. and while she can't be killed, she's assuming she hasn't seen the last of the Null and she doesn't want to be stuck defenseless like she was last time.

she takes a breath, lets it out, and strikes at him as instructed. she's not backing down]

Video 2 (Backdated to the 12th)

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