faderift | 01

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It is good to see someone who enjoys training and practice as much as she does; Six has been working alone for the most part, a few scuffles with Korrin to her name, but to find a familiar face who might recognise the same... It is something to remember, she thinks. Perhaps it could be encouraged to be a regular thing, something that they do more than once a month or so. It would certainly help with her own sword arm.

"As you say," she nods her head. Slowly, she moves and places her Greatsword down to one side, picking up one of the Gallows swords and shields before she makes her way back to Lakshmi; the change in weapon doesn't offend her terribly. She is well versed in most arms thanks to the guardsmen and her mercenary group.

"Begin."

She doesn't wait, what was the point - she did not want to best this woman to the death, and she didn't need to circle her and work out every little weakness in her. This was a friendly match.

But it is not less controlled for it, hefting the shield in her off hand, curling the blade. Balancing her weight carefully as she sidesteps - getting used to the pace of it. A fixed gaze, not so much on her face, but on a middle point of Six's body, that she could watch it all without having to dart her attention here and there. Then sweeps down, overhead and hard. One blow that sweeps up and around, into another - to be blocked. A test of reflexes and no more.

It's been a long time since Six truly fought with something that wasn't her greatsword - she had little reason to after she left the mercenaries, and travelling with Adrian had only inspired her to use that weapon more. Training is not the same as an actual spar or an actual fight and she knows that she's on the edge of being disadvantaged, hoping only that it is not to the point where she ends up suffering for it.

Despite her grace and acceptance when it comes to losses, she does not enjoy it.

She grips her sword lightly, giving her space to twist and turn it when she needs to, and it's good - Lakshmi does not hold back and Six has to move quickly. Lifting her arm, she pulls up so that the blade can glance off her shield, her body dropping to the side to arch and move out of the way of the second strike. She's immediately on the defensive, careful as she stares down the other woman, adjusting her stance to be able to hold position should she be hit again. It's a waiting game for now, she thinks, to see what she will do, to learn her movements and then overcome her.

She never quite stops moving, slow, methodical, each calculated step, a constant flicker as she turns her sword about in her hand, a sure gaze in that fixed point. An easy test of her strength and Six's deflection of the blow, seeing how fast she moved. Neither of them purely in their own element - but that was what made this so exhilarating, wasn't it? Pushing and dragging and moving to sharpen skills.

The next attack is stronger, and no doubt, would leave her open, tangle them up. Unless she were to pull on the blackwater now, Six ought to have more singular strength for that bar of metal she wielded. But there is a certain springing, sudden movement as she shifted her shield up to her shoulder. Aiming to ram into her.

The two of them wish to test one another and Six finds enjoyment in that; she likes to learn about the people she works with through combat, through strength, through spar. She had done it before when she had been younger, smaller and angrier with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove - and she had grown into her strength, truly.

If she's shocked by the turn of the tactic she doesn't make it obvious, adjusting her weight and shifting to move into the ram, to use her own strength to hold her own. It's to be painful, certainly, but it's not the worst thing she has done, nor will it be the most damaging. She twists her body to hold her blade to the side, lifting her shoulders and tensing to take the blow, heels dug tight into the ground.

Strength tested, she falls back, because getting locked into a battle of height with a taller opponent was always a mistake. Breaks that ram with a swing. Absent habits that to reset as she spins on her heel back and away, beating her sword against her shield in a rhythmic clang, bang, bang.

But now she falls back, waiting, watching, her footsteps measured as she circles her in return. Waiting to see if she would strike in return for the heavy blows given, how she intended to do such, if at all.

Six knows how to use her strength to her advantage and she presses forward with it, watching Lakshmi move back and away. Her eyes narrow, drinking her in, and she hesitates for a moment before she adjusts her weight, digging her heels into the ground.

She watches, waiting, hesitating for a moment before she dashes forward, sword raised, ready to move and swing towards Lakshmi's side, with all her strength behind it.

It'd be a mistake to get caught in that lock again. Not with all that strength - but nor was that the only way then.

One foot plants firmly swinging her shield up, but not to block outright. No sense to that. But to catch, roll in a spin and divert it away - speed, the sureness of her own feet, that one follows the other without hesitation. There is a simplicity to a good fight, something she found herself near craving at times. That she must do nothing but look and react. Must know Six's blade and herself, and know them as nothing but on string, like ripples on the river.

That one blow can turn into another, started now in earnest, spinning out the rest of the movement to start the next - to take a shot in return and cut inwards and upwards aiming from thigh to shoulder in an open sweep of her blade while she's open.

01 | OPEN

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has nothing but gun pictures rip

i have 0 sword icons so we are matched

go us, we peak rp

damn right we are

hi5s

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