01 | OPEN

[shri]

WHO: Lakshmi & You!
WHAT: Out and about events, catch all for the month, etc.
WHEN: Today to the end of the month??
WHERE: Kirkwall and the surrounds
NOTES: N/A at present.

i. ( training )
Each morning, Lakshmi's pattern is incredibly similar: she rises, goes about getting ready for the morning with quiet prayers and as little sound possible to disturb anyone she might be sharing her quarters with, and goes down to the training grounds. It has been years and years since the only weapons she relied upon were sword and shield - if ever. Disliking a pistol in her youth wasn't the same as not having it. Even so.

There is some secret thrill, to having nothing but the joy of Shivaji's weapons, to be like the stories of her grandfather's time. Fighting by Bajirao's side.

But stories they were, and the years since she had been taught the weapons, there had been rifles, thermite and Tesla's electricity to fill the space where those skills had once been sharp. Time to start at the beginning again. First with a spear, dressed to turn the long material of her sari to wrap her legs like pants and tuck the rest in tightly to a waist belt. The Inquisition light armour over the top.

Enough to train in. Taking up the spear first - and beginning to move with it - a series of long movements as she begins to turn it like a pinwheel between both hands, over her head, another full circle. Then again, and speeding up as she goes. Stepping in turns as she passes it between hands, one at a time, puncturing it with long thrusts, the practised strike of a spear into flesh mimed and pulled back from. Feet turning in the dirt in precise movements, turning on her heel the lessons of her father, sharp in her ears, it is speed, more than strength, a fast lion's swipe than its bite is how Shivaji triumphed, and it is - big, flashy, more dance than strict combat. But as much concentration as either. Fixing in the middle distance with the effort of keeping it up. Until the spear in her hand is spinning as fast as she can manage it, from behind her back to in front of her, holding it for moments it above her then, then across from one side of her body to the other as she turns into each step. Breathing hard, the sting of sweat on her brow. Then faster again, until her arms felt the ache of it.

Until when it's over, far more suddenly then how she built up to it, the spear is thrown down, tip to the ground and she bobs down. Arching on her toes, balancing there as she touches the ground, the reaches up to mime the touch near her face. I've gotten slow, father. Rolling up to standing after that, she goes to pull the spear out of the ground. Absent gestures - leaning her face down and pushing her shoulder up to wipe her brow clear.

Nothing for it, she returns the spear to the stock of weapons, then reaches for the sword and shield closest to her own preference - a long eye cast on the other pieces she sees. No, no, not worth it. Not yet, not until she knew her pieces perfectly. Shaking out all her limbs. The long sword was no talwar. This was not the lightness that she was used to exactly. Didn't curve against her palm right. But if this was what was most commonly available - then it was what she was to get used too.

Better than sitting around stewing over other matters she could not change - like still being here, or what Kitty had said to her. And to that - she gladly takes the offer of anyone who might want to the spar. Whether it was overeager Inquisition soldiers ( some she beats, some she does not ). Or other Rifters and her grin is quick and easy -

"And you? Fancy a match?" Her laughter with it, she likes being this - more than she likes just about anything else. It's simple, and easy, and knows quite plainly what and who she is.

ii. ( bathing )
Not a single time after training for however long she does so - that it isn't immediately followed by gladly throwing herself to be clean. Nothing more utterly blissful as that, especially after the recent years. ( Scrubbing in cold water on the worst of winter days left little to be desired. ) So glad that at least here, for all she might not want to stay here, had something decent.

Took the same sort of discipline to it, even if it was a sight more eagerly done than perhaps was necessary. Unravelling all four feet of hair from where it was pinned to the top of her head ( - ought to cut it, like she had before this place sore fit to give her reminders she did not want and with it the memory of why she had not until need demanded it. ) Taking the only truly selfish item she had purchased so far with the gold from trading some of her bangles, the bottle of perfumed oil. Tipping it onto her palm to coat her hands before she cards fingers through all that hair. Kashi would shudder for the rough care. But it was better than nothing. Scrunching it with rough hands at the ends. Whatever is left on her fingers is rubbed into old wounds, the bullet hole above her heart, the lycan bite on her middle, the claw marks on her legs.

Then gladly sunk in down until the water went over her head. Half intent on drowning herself, it seemed. Scarred skin softening with the moisture and all that hair wafting like an ink spill in the water. Only until she can't hold her breath anymore that she sticks her head back up and takes to resting against the side of the bath with both eyes shut. Not intent on moving for a good long minute. Her strange radio firmly discarded. If anyone wanted her, they could come to find her if it really mattered.

At least until someone else does arrive - and she cracks an eye, seeing who it is and whatever they might so, she hums and does her best to move over to give space if they need it. Still early, the sun ought to rise soon but - not busy in the day yet. "I'll be out soon - " in case they needed the place to themselves.

iii. ( lowtown )
A merchant here was as decent as anyone she could find in Hightown, she reasoned, and at least here - there was a great deal less fussing involved. Even if she did dress and behave differently, her veils drawn as ever. If they were going to insult her for the mark glowing in her hand, they would do it to her face.

Which is how things end with this merchant - as it turned out. Most people seemed a little less guarded, the benefit of the tournament. At least meant no one went out of their way to avoid them. But she could feel the taste of being ripped off for the prices she was being offered on the plain bolt of cotton she had her eye on. Something of Myira perhaps, or Bronach, when she felt the urge to sit and sew again.

"That much? That was twice what you offered the man before me. Is my coin not as good as his?" Her voice is pitched, brittly angry. Deliberately loud enough for anyone else walking by. Never suffered anything quietly when it was like this, and it ripples an anger through her. Did they think she was an idiot? The response the same: that was the price.

Her teeth grit, pulling up to her full height. Ready, absolutely ready to pick a fight in the middle of the street. She could be quite decent at holding her tongue, walking away, at least until her temper got the better of her. Her fingers flexed cooly at her side, ready, ready, ready. That flickering dull green light on her palm that apparently what deserved this when she had never asked for it and once more punished for that which was never her fault.

Might be a good time to stop it.

iv. ( wildcard )

Got something else you want to do that we talked about? Want to do something, drop me a pm or a message over at aeneia.

Comments

iv. Shopping trip

[notacrow]

Myira is excitable at the bestod times and being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of Kirkwall is threatening to overload the bird-turned-young woman. She's darting from one side of the road to the other in short, sharp movements to look at this street vendor or that shopfront and it takes a firm reminder that they're here looking for something specific to get her back on task.

When she's finally centered at least a little, she tags along at Lakshmi's heels, eager to talk about the sights and sounds and just about everything.

"Skies, I never seen so many humans in one place," say says as they finally step off the street and into a shop that boasts fine wares for men-at-arms and others in need of personal protection. She pauses, peering round the shop for a moment and letting out a low, impressed whistle at the variety of arms and armor on display. More than a mere smithy, this place is practically a small armory!

"...whoa." Yes, that seems like the right response. Myira runs her tongue over her lips, not quite sure where to look first. But they're here for armor. Focus, Myira.

[shri]

Lakshmi on the other hand is far more direct. This was ultimately, half as much as London, but a sight less soaked in smog and dirt to stain everything black. Used to it, very much, whether it was here or Delhi, there was habits to moving through a place like this. Making sure her arms stayed close in, to be careful of the pace of the person in front of you. The mild twitchiness when a street child came too close to make sure to check her coin purse. More than once battering a little reaching hand away. The clatter of every kind of person looking for attention - and here especially the sound of metal being beaten into shape. Loud and pressing. Cloying and dirty.

Cities, we're a certain kind of misery and blessing.

When they arrive she thinks nothing of tugging Myira firmly to get her to stop wandering off. The girl had certainly gotten better at her human habits. Pulling her close in and then going to address the vendor of both reasonably priced goods and kind enough to rifters.

"I'm looking for a thick hide chest piece, with greaves and braces to match. Chain, as well."

Her hand stays in Myira to make sure she doesn't wonder off.

[notacrow]

Myira settles in at Lakshmi's side, one hand on her hips as she continues to gawk at the surrounding racks of armor and weaponry. Like many things in this human world, it's a first for her and she has to resist the urge to simply start touching whatever interests her most. She shifts her weight a little, chewing idly on her lower lip. Her eyes dart to the merchant when he gives a low grunt and nods thoughtfully.

"...We should have something like that. I know we have the chain..." He gestures towards a chain shirt hanging on a t-shaped rack next to other examples of hauberks and gambesons and every other bit of metal armor you might expect.

"The hide? Hrm..." He takes a few steps across the floor, then plucks a thick leather jerkin from another rack and holds it out for inspection. It closes up one side with laces and the rest of is riveted with additional small plates of metal for extra protection--a coat of plates, but light enough for Lakshmi's purposes, perhaps.

"Is this the sort of thing you're looking for, then?" Myira seems to perk up a little. She knows nothing about armor so she's trying to be a good student and merely listen.

"Is that good?" She asks, nudging Lakshmi.

[shri]

"It is." She nods to the man, leaning forward to take the piece off of him. Her hands are flat and expert in her examination. "I expect it to work, not look beautiful. Fetch me the greaves, next."

She sends him away with a wave of her hand - and glad that he was not curt or rude, as she'd found with a few shopkeepers so far that had ire with a shard bearer. As if this was not proof enough that they were no spirits. Just mortal men and women ( or ravens ) looking to protect themselves. "We want light, for you, and moveable. You are no Knight." She lifts it up and no - the chain is not beautiful. Just rows and rows of flat steel rings that she scrunches together and loosens. Making sure they did not catch against each other, that they could shimmy and loosen about. But mayhap, too heavy for Myira, even if it catches her eye.

Her inspection done, she moves onto the leather, its light armouring of scale. Not to knightly, or even Marathi tastes, but better suited for it. Myira was not a soldier, after all. "Here - arm's up." Like dressing her, but there was nothing light and pretty with this. Layers. "We will look for - oh, what do they call it, - gambesons. To go under it. They ought to serve you in winter as well."

[notacrow]

"Yeah but what if'n I was a knight?" Myira, always asking the real questions. She shifts her weight a little and holds her arms out to let Lakshmi shove her into the jerking, her nose wrinkling a little as she has to be closed up in the leather. It's supple, but it's not broken in and so has a certain stiffness to it that she's not terribly fond of. There's a faint noise of annoyance from her but she nods her head at Lakshmi's words. What all of that means, she has no idea. She'll trust Lakshmi to do what needs to be done here.

"Oof. It feels kinda clumsy to me..." Myira mutters and twists her torso a few times, trying to see how well she can move in the coat. "Gambeson is um..." She wrinkles her nose.

"I don't remember." As she speaks the man returns to hand over the greaves with polite alacrity. He's keeing quiet--they can do their own shopping without him talking their ears off. Perhaps because he's recognized that Lakshmi knows what she's talking about.

[shri]

She's used to at this point - how people treat rifters to not want to ask or bother with more than she has too. To go about her business and nothing else, least of all too much commentary. "If you were a knight? Then it's that full plate." A jerk with her head, off to the wall where the armor was shown. Steel and polished. "But you'll never be able to stand that, you would need to start sleeping with weights practically, to get the strength up to fight in it."

Or so she'd been told, from her own experience with knights.

"It will loosen up as you train and it becomes more adjusted to your body. All armour has to be worn in." She steps around her and begins to yank the leather buckles tighter around her waist to make it stay. Then she drops down to her one knee, beginning to strap the leg armour to her shins.

[notacrow]

"Oof." Myira looks at the plate armor, unimpressed. "Looks too damn heavy t'me," She mutters, then grunts as she does a few more experimental movements. It's heavy, true, but she can also see how this sort of thing might up being useful. Maybe she can actually get used to this. She glances down at Lakshmi as more leather is strapped around her shins.

"How many pieces do you usually gotta wear to be protected?"

[shri]

"It is." Lakshmi agrees breezily enough, leaning back on the balls of her feet to inspect her work. Making sure that they both sit properly. "Now imagine being punched by the person who is comfortable wearing it, in a fight."

No, not quite, and she begins readjusting a strap she had just tried. "Depends how you fight, where you're fighting. In battle, I wear more than this, but less than all that plating. Save for some key pieces. But should I want something just to move about? Closer to what you have now." Then, far more practical when she is finished fussing about her legs, and the next part are the arm braces. Fished off the counter, with a firm mod to the merchant. Turning back, holding them in front of her with the same direct purpose as she does everything.

"Don't let armour lie to you. All of it can be punctured with the right blow. You can be injured wearing even the strongest pieces. Just like no matter how great a warrior you might become, there will be someone who can kill you. But, it can lessen a great deal, it is a tool, like your hands." She nods, instructing once more. "Arms up."

[notacrow]

"That don't sound like a grand idea..." To be fair, getting in a fight at all didn't sound too great to her.

"You think this is enough for me?" Myira wriggles a little, then reaches down to adjust the way the armored jacket sits on her so that it's just a little more comfortable, then bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, checking to see that it doesn't move terribly much. Satisfied, she drops back to her feet to let Lakshmi continue with her business. Myira doesn't like sitting still, but if Lakshmi is trying to teach her something she can deal with it, right? Right. It's easier said then done, though, and Myira shifts her weight from leg to leg. The more that gets strapped on, the more awkward she feels.

"So why wear it if it don't actually do anythin'?" Myira protests, but raises her arms obediently anyway, holding them out so that the braces can be strapped on according to Lakshmi's liking.

"Seems like a lot of fuss if you ask me."

[shri]

"Because some wounds will kill you now, and others will kill you later. The idea is to get the latter than former."

Hovers a little, wondering but she never just liked talking without demonstration. Even if she has some... benefits to her healing that Myira might not. Still, her body was all battlefield. She hooks up the edge of where her dupatta was draped across her middle to shoulder, to the fresh scars of the little fairies bites. All over her stomach, "See? This was when I had nothing." A tap to the little tooth mark, and deeper, below it - an older mark, but finer. "And this was from something the size of a dog's mouth. This would have surely killed me, but look how little it left behind with time."

She drops it, smoothing her hand back over the material to settle it. "I will never lie to you and say anything is perfect, to live is to know pain, but there are steps to be taken to make that pain is lessened."

[notacrow]

"Makes sense." Myira has seen wounds and death in her life. Usually with ravens if it's bad enough to cripple you, she thinks it'd be better to be dead. A raven with a broken wing isn't really a raven anymore, is it? She blinks, coming out of her little reverie as Lakshmi shows off her scars. She chews at her lip for a moment, leaning in closer to examine the scars. Proof of a hard life--but from someone who's obviously tough enough to get through.

"Aye. That sounds like life, sure enough." There's a tinge of bitterness there. It's not meant to be directed at Lakshmi. No, it's more directed at the small ways in which her life has not gone in the way she's wanted it to.

"I guess it's good to try an' find ways to stop that pain or push it off when we can. That's why the armor."

[shri]

"Exactly. That is why the armour."

She stands back, arms lose over her chest when she crosses them, as she looks over her once more.

"It will change to fit you when you wear it. So you are going to start wearing the chest piece when you go anywhere. The pants as well," a little tease, maybe, not all so grim. "I am sure that will be a hardship to you."

Knows how utterly Myira disliked the layers of the dresses and skirts. "We will train in all of it. To help you get used to its limitations, and shape it to you."