faderift | (no subject)

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{ katniss everdeen }

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WHO: Katniss and Salem
WHAT: How To Make New Friends - With Weapons
WHEN: Now
WHERE: The Training Circle, the Herald's Rest, and ... ahem. About.
NOTES: Violence. Cursing. Drinking. Possibly acting like derps.

The training circle wasn't just used for templars testing out their swordmanship skills, or even the Chargers working with shields. Sometimes, it is something as simple as someone going through the motions of their sword work, or their dagger work. Or, like now, it is a single target set in the middle of the circle, and an archer. This particular archer is climbing from post to post, taking shots as she runs and moves. Pause, aim, fire. She pauses only when her shots go wide. Huffing, adjusting her stance, working to perfect her balance as she moves.

Sometimes, she'll drop down, to practice a shot while falling, then jumping up again. Other times, she'll pause to take a break, taking a drink out of the bucket of water she put aside, so she could pull her arrows out of the training dummy and return them to her quiver. So far, she hasn't been disturbed, and that's the way she likes it.

For now, anyways.

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She watches him warily, her finger tensing to fire as he comes up a foot to her, but she doesn't fire. Doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink.

The appraising look is returned, though, when he drops the axe to the ground. The tension on the bow string gently relaxes.

She may not be giving him a reason, but her tone steps right up to that challenge, "I would like to see you try."

"I'm the guest, I make the first move. That's how this works, right?" Salem flipped his blade around in his hand, giving Katniss a cheeky little smirk. When he moves, it's fast terribly so. Without being encumbered by his axe, he holds that same uncanny speed that elves attuned to fighting do, and while he'd just been right there in front of her, now he'd flowed around her, and she has one chance to block the pommel-first upswing of his shortsword.

Genetics hadn't done much for Katniss's elven heritage. She had not gotten the shorter height, nor the waifish figure. She certainly hadn't gotten the delicately pointed ears, and only her eyes would be considered 'elvish'.

What she lacked in the look, though, she made up for in other departments. Like speed. So he flows around her, and the pommel is coming fast, so she swings her bow around, to slap the wood as hard as she can into his arm, averting his aim and allowing her to step backwards.

His arm rides up the wooden arch of the bow and he hisses quietly at the sharp sting, but smirks as his free hand comes around and closes around the lower half of it. He spins in place, ducking under his own arm and twisting the bow around in Katniss' hand, trying to loosen her grip on it. The hand with the blade in it has been stopped, but if she's not focused on his feet as well, she'll find one hooked behind her knee and kicking it out from under her, not so much as a strike, just a move to unbalance her.

Salem, you never detach an archer from their bow. Katniss's grip tightens, which is why she isn't focusing on where his feet are. She can feel her knee start to give up, and start to fall, so she keeps her grip on the bow as she stumbles. She hits her knee, hard, which is fine, because now she uses the bow to shove up under Salem's chin hard enough to jar him back. Using her height and momentum to hopefully get him back away from her.

When his teeth click together Salem stumbles back, shaking his head but resisting the urge to do more than that. Instead he ducks low again and jukes around her then wraps an arm around her neck from behind, though not in a proper chokehold given he'd rather not actually hurt her.

"Cheeky," he chuckles in her ear, using his knee to knock the other leg out from under her.

Katniss gasped as her other knee went down to the ground, leaving her kneeling as he wrapped his arm around her throat. Not tight enough to bruise, but to hold her into place. Grey eyes narrowed, before she gripped his arm tightly, and then lifted him up and over her shoulder, to slam him into the ground, flat on his back, as she gasped out, "You have no idea."

The wind was knocked out of him, but he grinned up at her, wheezing quietly in a somewhat painful laugh. He rolled out from under her then flipped himself back upright. "Impressive, lethallan," he teased, "have you got more up your sleeves?"

Katniss heaved out a breath, wiping blood away from her mouth as she looked at Salem. Her eyes narrowed, as she moved to circle him. "Oh, as many as I need."

Blood leaked a little, as she smirked in turn, "How about you?"

Edited 2015-12-20 22:53 (UTC)

"That is something you'll have to find out for yourself."

In other words, come at him Katniss, you may well find a real challenge in a small elf. He was circling her in kind, moving sideways with his hands in toward his center, head canted with his ears perked up, keeping her fully in his sights.

"Oh, I'll be glad to."

Her grey eyes narrowed, keeping her feet even with his, and this time she did not give him an opening to attack her. Instead, she shifted to the side, this time, going to hit him at the side, going for his legs and in the lower half of his body, to throw him off balance, with a swift punch, and then following up with a side kick.

Glancing down at the legs aimed at his own, Salem dodged back, bent to the side to avoid the punch, but it left his side exposed. She was a damn sight faster than most things he had experience fighting, and that third blow connected in a way that would surely leave a large, ugly bruise on his side. He groaned, but he didn't fall or even step back. With her leg still within range, his arm wrapped around the back of her knee, lifting it up to keep her perched on one foot.

"Very nice. Looking forward to going out and cracking a few skulls with you," he grunted, then turned in place, swinging her around and letting her go when the momentum was enough that she'd end up out of reach of him again.

"The feeling is - "

And as she tried to twist out of his grip, she finds herself flying across the circle and hitting the ground. Hard. She hisses as she bounces and rolls, but drags herself back up to her feet immediately. If she's holding her ribs there for a moment?

Well. No one's business but Bruce's.

Edited 2015-12-30 19:33 (UTC)

Salem grins when she recovers, leaning against the post at the edge of the ring with his arms crossed. "Not bad for a ranged fighter."

She let out an 'ooof', as she put her hand to her ribs again. Clearly, they are taking a break and thank Sylaise for that.

"...Yes, well, my father always said that archers had to learn how to deal with what happens when they get around the arrows. I don't think he imagined someone as strong as you, though."

"Smart of him. Mine always told me I should be wary of archers that had taken that into account."

Watching her holding her ribs, his head tilted, and he reached into a pocket in the interior of his armor until he'd come up with a little pouch. He took a pinch of what looked like shredded herbs out of it and held it out to her. "Here. Put this under your tongue for a few minutes, it'll kill the pain. Don't swallow any of it though."

"Then your father was equally savvy."

She took the herbs from him, and in a way that showed her mother had raised her, sniffed the herbs, rubbing them a little between her fingers. "Elfroot. Touch of embriumum, as well. I never thought to combine them."

And she sticks it under her tongue, trying not to sigh with relief as the pain started to fade. She really did not want to swallow any of this.

Salem nodded. She was certainly knowledgeable. "Right. Makes a good tea for the cold nights if you add a large amount of honey and and cut it with proper black tea leaves."

She spat out the leaves, sighing with relief, "I'll keep that in mind ... I could use a good healing brew."

Ugh. She moved, stiffly, straightening herself. "What I could use right now though, is a place to sit and not move for ... awhile."

He might have offered her a hand to keep her upright, if he thought her pride would allow it. He wasn't completely heartless after all, just a smartass.

"Come on, benches over near the smithy. Would you like me to call one of the healers?"

She made a face at that. "If we tell the healers - I for one am going to get Bruce'd at. No, thank you. I'll chew more elfroot, let it heal up. What I really want is some food." She was starving.

Salem snorted some, but he could understand that. He was mostly fine with Bruce, but he really didn't feel like anyone else being subjected to fussing when it was so much easier walking it off. He dug in his side pouch briefly, then held out another clump of elfroot. "Sit, I'll find something to eat."

"Thanks and ... " She dug into her pocket, dug out a silver and pressed it into his palm. "Get us something to drink. On me, for a good fight."

Because Creators, the man knew more than a few tricks.

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