exsiliumlogs | all work and [OPEN]

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all work and [OPEN]

Date & Time: 8/11-8/14
Location: Training area(...s...)
Characters: Jericho, others
Summary: donny osmond softly sings in the background
Warnings: whatever comes of spar/train/fightytime encounters that doesn't involve donny osmond

Like with any blank canvas ready to fall under pen or paint, starting was always the hardest part. The training hall was an intimidating structure as much for what it stood for as for how it felt to be there; expectations lingered in the air almost as prominently as that gross, inescapable gym smell. Sweat and breath and coarse materials and mats that pretended to be easier to fall against even when thrown hard enough...

Not that Jericho was intending on being thrown around or anything. That...that didn't seem very proactive, where training was concerned.

But beyond the basics and regimens he knew well enough before, there was plenty more to explore. More often than not, it began with observation. Seeing before doing was sensible, and given the wide array of people in the Initiative's care, Jericho was in a pretty good place to learn something new. And if he was going to be stronger, more capable (and less likely to get crushed by half a ton of building again), he had no better place to give it a shot than there.

And when there's no one around? He could at least run through his old, familiar sets. For a so-called superhero, he wasn't terribly brilliant when it came to combat...at least, not as his gangly, still-short self. Even so, he liked to imagine he'd improved a little, at least where footing and endurance went.

He'd keep at it, in any case, hoping somehow all this hard work would get whatever was all bogged up in his system good and gone, and that maybe those other blank canvases would fill up again.

You train creative blocks away, right?

Sure...

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Asuka was training again. She was determined to not let her skill-set atrophy, if only because this way she was marginally useful. She might not have been trained for perosnal combat, but she still had muscle memory and training from her Eva - so here she was. The loss of an eye was a detriment, but she wasn't about to let that stop her. If she let herself become useless, then what good was she?

She was settled into a combat stance on one of the mats, spear held out in front of her. Honestly, she felt a bit silly still. A spear wasn't going to do her any good against the UE. Of course, she also wasn't about to just give up. She'd done that once before and she didn't relish the thought of falling into a funk like that again, even if it beckoned (and it was tempting) every day. She shook the thought out of her head and lunged forward at an imaginary foe, thrusting with the spear. She froze, poised in position for a long moment and then fell out of it with a little groan.

She turned, ready to start grumbling to herself about something. Then she spotted Jericho and she tried to straighten herself up, self-consciously brushing at the bangs that hung over her eye-patch.

"Oh, hey. What're you doing here?"

Seriously, she couldn't imagine anyone as inoffensive as him fighting people.

Now there was a person Jericho didn't expect to see right then and there. He startled, halting not too far from the door, only realizing who it truly was when that voice piped up. And though his eye followed the motion of her hand, Jericho didn't register the very obvious difference hiding behind her hair; his eyes wound up back at the spear in a hurry.

Silence didn't have a chance to linger too long to nag him into some kind of response. He blinked, lifting his own hand, waving a hello before resuming his advance into the room.

What was he doing? The better question, in his mind, was what was she doing? Again, his eyes drifted to the spear, and his head tilted as he walked closer.

OK, so she was kind of used to his whole silent-mute-thing, but it was still a bit disconcerting when he just strolled up. Of course, she wasn't about to let on that it bothered her, so just shifted her weight to one hip, leaning on the spear as she watched him approach.

"What do you want?"

Her tone is a bit challenging, but she doesn't really consider him that much of a threat. It ends up more bored sounding then actually angry.

Definitely the same girl who'd found him practicing in the gardens. Jericho could feel some old, familiar butterflies flutter to life, his mouth twitching, rather at a loss on whether to be some kind of smile or frown. He stopped at what felt like a safe distance: close enough so she didn't have to shout and him not have to gesture too wildly, far enough to not seem quite the busybody he might inadvertently have seemed to be. He hoped.

And, of course, drawing closer, seeing her more clearly...His attention was pulled from the spear to her face – and that eyepatch. His eyebrows lifted, then pinched in a shade of confusion, concern.

He pointed to his own face, the question clear.

Asuka's expression pulled into a frown and she shrugged and shifted her weight again, fingers wrapped around the haft of the spear as if it might bring her some comfort.

"It's nothing. Just... got hurt during the last big fight, that's all. It's no big deal."

She didn't say anything for a moment. Then she thought it might be a better idea if she changed the subject, "What have you been doing? Still playing the guitar?"

She's not that interested, but it was better then being asked stupid questions.

Edited 2013-08-14 03:00 (UTC)

Her discomfort with his unspoken question was very clear in her body language, doubly obvious by the continued questions directed at him. Jericho could take a hint, though he quietly wondered about the injury. He couldn't imagine seeing through only one eye...what would that do to his powers?

His mouth opened and closed after a moment of blank-faced silence, thinking on the question before having any answer. He shook his head, mouth tugging in a dubious line as his shoulders shrugged up.

Somewhat following the flow of an inaudible reply, his hands lifted, curling into fists, held loosely in front of him as he gave her a certain nod. They're in a training room, after all; he came here to do that, not play.

Asuka drums her fingers against the haft of the spear, the brow above her good eye arching slightly as she tries to interpret his reply. Really, him not being able to speak is a pain in the butt.

"...you want to train? That's weird. I didn't think you were that much of a fighter."

She's not trying to be cruel. But... well, it's Asuka.

It pulled a sheepish half-grin onto Jericho's face, that remark. Definitely not something new by any means; he was sure he looked about as threatening as an alpaca most of the time. That thought made his shoulders bob with a self-deprecating bit of a laugh mixed in with his shrug.

Couldn't be helped, could it? At least, not by just standing there looking like not much of a fighter. It was as encouraging a thought as anything, spurring him to move past her to a bench so he could unlace his boots; he didn't like stomping all over the mats in them. With shoes set out of the way, he continued his journey to an open mat and began to stretch.

"What, you're serious?" Asuka follows him toward the mat, watching him from a relatively respectful distance.

"What are you going to do, play music at people?"

She cares more then she lets on, really.

Was it that surprising? Jericho was a little disappointed, but...not shocked. He sighed as he straightened out of a toe-touch, shaking his arms loose and swiping bangs out of his eyes.

Moving smoothly with a single forward step, he slid into a fighter's stance, lifting hands. Fingers bent – a beckoning, offering gesture as his eyebrows lifted in inquiry. It was a question accented by a quirk in his mouth, giving it a fairly light-hearted air.

You wanna see what I can do?

Asuka blinked and then followed him onto the mat with a grin. Sure, why not? He didn't look all that tough. Then again, she wasn't exactly a martial artist either. She sets the practice spear aside and falls into a rather sloppy fighting stance. It's based on the dim muscle memory of fighting with her Eva, but it's not exactly trained.

"OK, sure. Let's go!"

He smiled, strangely pleased, but definitely a touch nervous. He had no idea of her skills, no idea how she would react, win or lose.

...Well. He had a fair idea of what winning would look like to her.

Either way, he shifted to best suit her own stance, readying to absorb any incoming attacks. That was his way – moving energy, not overusing his own. But he'd have to offer a little to coax her to strike first; Jericho rocked up to the balls of his feet and shifted, moving forward just enough to imply a headon strike–

[This is the first time she's sparred since she lost her eye and she keeps shifting slightly to the left to try and keep him entirely in her frame of vision. It's a handicap and not just in depth perception. She mutters something to herself, watching him closely-

He moves and she darts forward in a lunge, right hand cocked back and telegraphing the blow.

She's naturally athletic, a fast learner and light on her feet.

But none of that is really a replacement for practice.]

[that's what he was looking for. Jericho does a half turn, giving her a light shove with the heel of his hand to keep her momentum going in the direction she started, leaving him behind.

his foot slid forward, waiting for her ankle to make contact.]

[Asuka yelps in surprise and stumbles over his outstretched ankle. She flails for balance and then goes down to her hands and knees with a 'wuff' as the wind gets knocked out of her. After a moment of glaring at the mat, she grits her teeth and climbs back to her feet.]

Lucky shot.

[he grins a small, crooked grin, shoulders bouncing with a silent puff of laughter. lucky, sure. maybe it is! he's not going to make any judgments on his or her abilities on one turn of hand.

he simply slides back into form, positioning himself and waiting to see what trick she has next.]

[Asuka doesn't really have any tricks. She falls into her loose combat stance and then tries to rush him again, this time turning into a kick and lashing out with her left foot. Her depth perception's a bit off, of course, and she favors her left side, always edging to the left to keep him out of her blind spot.]

[he startles a little, and then – pap!

he swats the front of her foot with his hand while he rocks to his side and turns again, rocking his weight to one foot while he watches to see how far her own momentum will take her.]

[She's still an amateur in actual hand-to-hand, so she commits too much of her weight and momentum into the kick and she stumbles. Not too badly, since she's quick and light on her feet, but it's another attack frustrated. She draws back into her loose guard and then lunges again, teeth gritted in frustration.

This time she's broadcasting her punch the entire way in.]

Edited (COMMAS) 2013-09-09 18:57 (UTC)

[that frustration is easy to read, and Jericho gets a dubious look on his face as he moves to follow her, a beat slower.

he grimaces, seeing that punch come a mile ahead, having to make a decision.

he brings a hand down, snatching her wrist, twisting and pulling her with him, tucking himself down and sending her over his back in the last, quickest rotation.]

[Asuka goes head over heels and lands with a thud that drives the wind from her body. For a moment she can't catch her breath and she lies spread-eagled o nthe floor, staring up at the ceiling.

It's not fair, she thinks. She should be good at this, how come he's beating her? How come it's not coming naturally? How come nothing is ever easy anymore?

She swallows the urge to snap and snarl and spit and instead slowly clambers back to her feet, expression pinched.]

So, you can fight.

[he can't help but wince a little at the sound of impact, already standing up straight once more and turning around, watching her get up. considering reactions to less...hands-on activities prior, he's not sure what to expect, not sure how to present himself.

he nods slightly, shoulders lifting up, making it a fairly noncommittal reply.]

[Asuka flexes her fist open and closed with a scowl, trying to figure out how to salvage her pride out of this mess. He didn't look like he'd be much of a fighter, but then he rolled out some sort of ju-jitsu stuff.]

...who taught you that?

[he lifts a hand, meaning to sign before halting, realizing that might not get the point across.

so instead, he reaches, as if for a handshake, to take her hand. when offered, he can trace the letters on her palm.

m-o-m]

[Asuka takes a moment to piece it together and when she does, she flinches and tugs her hand away with a shrug.]

She must've been pretty good at that stuff.

[he winces, taking note to avoid hand-spelling from then on. it'll keep his hands safely at his sides as he nods, the weak smile nowhere near his eyes.]

[It's not the hand-spelling so much as the mention of a mother, but she's not about to tell him that.]

...what happened to her?

[She like to think she can read that sort of thing from a million miles away.]

[he blinks, looking mildly confused at that. happened to her?

well...nothing. he shakes his head, not really sure why anyone would think something's automatically happened.

he hasn't watched Eva, he just doesn't know.]

[Asuka automatically assume that something has happened to everyone's parents.

Everyone she knows has one (or two) dead parents, after all.]

Oh. My mistake.

[Not that she sounds happy about admitting it.]

[weird...

he stares for a beat longer before shifting back another step, looking about the mat before back at her with his eyebrows lifted.

his hands, too, lifting with the faintest suggestion of his stance. again, or...?]

Of late, Haruto has been transforming and training against himself with the aid of the Dragotimer, since it's extremely helpful for training his reflexes. (He shares a brain with himself, after all.) It's also, however, an extremely heavy mana drain, and after whining from Nitoh he's decided to alternate those sessions with ones that aren't so exhausting. At the moment, he's doing the much more simple drills that are the basics of his fighting style: kicks, sword, gun.

It isn't so much that he hasn't noticed Jericho as it is that he doesn't see any reason to stop his drill until he's hit every target at least once. Once he has, he turns, lifting his gun to rest against his shoulder. "Looking for ideas?" he asks.

Edited 2013-08-13 14:50 (UTC)

Guns are in a realm well out of Jericho's experience; the best he could claim was a little second-hand skill – literally. Even then, the weight of such a weapon wasn't something his own limbs had carried...if it was a good or bad thing, it wasn't something he could really decide.

It's not something he was about to determine in that moment, either. Caught looking, Jericho startled, blinking. He straightened up at the small bench on the wall and had to stop short of shaking his head and think about it.

Looking for ideas? Well...

His head bobbed side to side a little, not entirely a yes or a no. Kind of, right?

He's glad he's been here long enough to learn the basics of what he privately thought of as official hand-to-hand combat (as opposed to the scrappy, devil-may-care stuff he'd learned on the streets-- useful, but sloppy, as one instructor had told him). It meant he could go through kicks and punches again and again without a trainer-- which was how he liked it. Not alone, necessarily, he didn't care if there were other people around-- but no one touching him, no one grabbing him and throwing him on the mat, no one to startle him and throw him into a panic attack again. Just him and his body, punching and kicking and stepping over and over until the only thing he can hear is his heart thudding in his ears.

He stops, then, just for a minute, panting sharply, and notices a kid near him. Blondie, kind of skinny, big green eyes. He'd sell a hundred papers in an hour at home, Jack thinks vaguely, and gives him a tired grin. "'lo."

It wasn't good form to interrupt someone in the middle of training. Not very safe sometimes, either...Some people were really into their routines, some groomed more intensely than others. It wasn't something Jericho himself could pick on too easily, so it was much safer to keep a fair distance just to observe, innocently as he could.

And, you know, perhaps somehow conquer the blank, white expanse of a page while he was at it. Drawing still things were hard enough, but a body in motion...it was hard to know where to even start. Circles, shaky shapes, smudged, half-erased lines...all brought to a stop when Jericho looked up again and saw he was spotted.

Oh.

He straightened up, blinking, quickly glancing about himself with as little motion as possible just in case he wasn't the one being addressed. But...that was pretty much certain; there was no one around. As his pencil was quickly dropped against the page, he nodded. Hello.

Jack's tired smile grew wider as he realized what it was the boy was holding. "Can I see?" he asked, dropping to sit on the mat across from him. It was time for a break, he thought vaguely, and reached for his towel. Or, well, maybe not time, he'd only really just begun-- but he'd rather meet someone new than work out anyway.

Besides, no one had ever drawn him before. "What's your name? 'M Jack."

The sketchbook was immediately lifted to his chest out of sheer reflex at its mention, and Jericho felt a flash of heat on his face. Show and tell with strangers was still a faraway notion when it came to drawing, and being caught by the question made him realize it was probably really weird for someone to be the subject of sketching without even being asked before hand. Jeez...

Of course, the saving grace came by way of Jack carrying on with hardly any silence built up between one request to the other. You'd think talkative sorts would be troublesome for someone like Jericho, and in some ways they were, but...he found a lot to be pleased with in their regard.

He had good reason to turn to a blank page, too, so all the better to give Jericho a favorable opinion of Jack!

The pencil scratched across the page quickly, the whole thing turned around to be seen:

Jericho

"Jer-i-cho? Jerico, is that right?" Maybe the kid was shy-- like that Donny kid, stuttering and stammering, only worse. Or, more likely, he was probably mute; god knew the kid appeared calm enough.

"What're you workin' on? Didn't nobody tell you this was to exercise, not draw?" He winked with a little grin. It'd been a while since he'd had a kid to tease.

He nodded, confirming Jack's pronunciation, his mouth tugging a little with a one-sided, very plainly shy smile. But no stuttering, no stammering. Jericho only flushed more with needless embarrassment at the cheerful question, certainly having to adjust his state of mind to better interact with such energy. He'd been getting a little gloomy, even as he had zoned out in trying to draw.

The little tug at his mouth pulled and flashed teeth in a weak grin, ducking his head, shaking it a little. He gave a passive kind of wave with his pencil hand before scratching out the next:

Didn't want to interrupt

"Nah, you wouldn'ta," he assures his new friend. "I ain't one o' those sorts. I just like practicin', but I ain't, you know, into it." Does that make sense? Hopefully. Jack's not so good with words sometimes, especially when he doesn't exactly know what he's talking about.

"So-- what sorts o' stuff do you do? I mean, hand to hand, or are you just here to try out some stuff?"

Jericho didn't know whether to nod once, twice, or...simply keep writing, really. He had already begun to nod at hand to hand before Jack went on; he bit his lip, eyebrows lifted and emphasizing how much care and attention he was giving Jack. He made it easy, talkative as he was – confident in being talkative as he seemed to be. Whether or not he was confident with coming across right didn't really matter so much as the act itself, really. It was kind of a nice twang to hear in his voice, like pushing guitar strings up sharply as you strum. Twang. -ing. Practicin'. One o' those sorts.

Jericho's mouth quirked, and then he decided it was better to write.

Tai chi
But I want to learn more too

"What's tai chi?" He glances behind him, as if he might see an example-- which isn't precisely as silly as it sounds; there's at least four other people training here, sparring and moving through exercises. It is interesting to watch; Jack makes a private note to come here himself with a sketch pad.

"Sorry," he adds with a grin. "I don't mean to keep pepperin' you with questions; your poor hand. I talk too much sometimes."

Jericho shook his head, smiling back at him – a genuine smile. Jack's a stranger, but he sure doesn't seem that way. It didn't bother him at all, really, all the talking and the questions...save for that inevitable silence as he had to decide how best to respond.

In this case, however, he had an idea.

He set the book aside and gave Jack a bit of a nod as he rose to his feet, dusting off his pants out of sheer habit. Looking down, he lifted a hand in gesture.

Wanna see?

"Yeah!" Jack jumped to his feet, a wide grin on his face. Tai chi, and he didn't know what that was, but it had to be something interesting. He'd already learned the basics of both karate and judo; this must be some other style his teacher hadn't yet covered. "Teach me, yeah? I'm a fast learner, don't worry."

Jericho nodded a little, smiling. He's not much of a teacher, he's sure, but he can at least show what he can do.

Over to the mats, Jericho steps slowly, getting a feel for the way his weight would settle on the surface once more. Once he's situated enough, he turns, sliding into his stance and holding it for one, slow breath, before lifting his hand, gesturing for Jack to come on, take a shot.

He hesitated for just a few seconds-- the kid wasn't exactly a weakling, Jack could tell, but still, still, he was younger and a little slimmer and he really didn't want to hurt him-- but then again, he wouldn't beckon unless he was confident.

He crouched his knees a little, settling into an offensive pose-- and then started forward in an easy swing, something Joey shouldn't have too much trouble blocking.

If only his real foes were as easily led astray by his weak looks...

It was an easy dodge, but if Jericho settled for simply that, Jack wouldn't be motivated to really try. So he shifted his weight as he swatted Jack's wrist down, turning and pressing back-to-back with the older boy, continuing his turn and giving him a shove at the shoulder, using Jack's forward motion against him. Himself, he slid back into stance, facing him.

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all work and [OPEN]

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i'm so late

no probs :]

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any time i read donny osmond i think of that time he was on the johnny bravo christmas special tbh

i'm glad i could contribute to the perpetuation of this imagery

hello friend

yes yes yes yes

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I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE I'M THE WORST

but somehow still the best GO FIG

u/////u no you

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