closed.

[tender]

WHO: Vanadi + Derrica
WHAT: knife lessons
WHEN: post abomination, early august
WHERE: the gallows
NOTES: n/a

Knife tricks are not handy anywhere but in a tavern.

Derrica knew this even before her discussion with Vanadi, before they stepped into the ring in the training yard. The pirates she sailed with taught her where to aim for with a knife, where was best to drive a blade in to incapacitate a man long enough to get clear when she couldn't bring lightening down on top of him. The holds of ships aren't made for big, showy magic like that.

Vanadi has a few inches on her. She's left her stave laid carefully across a bench at the edge of the training yard, easily seen out of the corner of her eye, and suppresses the nervous urge to flip the dagger through her fingers.

"Where did you begin, when you were learning?" she asks, prompting a little as she watches him square up alongside her.

Comments

[highborn]

This is probably not the best idea.

No, he can tell from her handling of the dagger that she knows it well enough but is no hired assassin (unless she's acting, hisses some part of his mind), and her request for training really has seemed genuine enough. There are probably no ulterior motives at play here, and Vanadi is in no more danger than any other weapons instructor.

(But what if there are ulterior motives?)

He can't quite shake the wariness that creeps into him with any dealing that lasts longer than five minutes, and he watches Derrica with a flatness that attempts to disguise it.

"With stances. Months and months of stances, finally leading to unarmed combat." He speaks evenly and quietly, which is another way to disguise the useless unease, and casts over a wry glance. "I don't suppose you'd like to be that thorough."

[tender]

If Vanadi is standoffish, Derrica assumes it's down to her magical ability rather than anything else. Maybe she's making him uncomfortable, in spite of his offer.

"No, maybe not," she admits. "I don't mind stances, but I wouldn't want to take up months of your time."

And whatever she has said to the contrary, whatever example she'd like to provide, her first instincts are always going to flow form her magic, even down to using her stave as a quarterstaff when it suits her. She squares up slightly, straightening her posture.

"What would you do if someone six foot tall came charging at you?" Derrica asks. She cannot quite imitate someone so big, but she raises her arms, hops towards him. "Give me an idea of how you would handle it."

[highborn]

In another lifetime, he smiles at her attempt to mimic a tall attacker. Presently he only watches with head slightly cocked, and shifts himself quickly around to stand next to her.

"I'll show you. The stance first, wider and lower." He nudges her foot nearest to him out further with his own booted foot. "Balance your weight, make yourself difficult to uproot. Do you feel sturdy?" His hand lands firmly on her shoulder, as if about to test it.

[tender]

"Not usually," is the first answer, tossed out lightly, before she amends, "Maybe."

She bends her knees slightly, trying to get a feel for the stance he's instructed. He's likely about to push her over, though Derrica doesn't seem all that bothered by it.

"Do you think we shouldn't start with the idea that someone will knock me down? That's happened before."

[highborn]

"The goal is to avoid the ground, if it at all possible," he says. "We'll get to what to do if you're knocked down next."

His hand stays on her shoulder, but her eyes are on her feet, gauging the balance. They travel up her body in a careful once-over, kept carefully professional. (Not that he doesn't admire the sight, he always admires the sights -- just, not the time.)

Her stance passes the test, apparently. He backs away a few steps, leaving her unaccosted.

"Unarmed first, then. Approach me, slowly, as if you were trying to throw me to the ground." He half-spreads both arms to make himself as and easily-grappled target as he can, eyes steady on hers.

[tender]

It's a little bit like a dance, rather than the frenetic pace of most hand to hand fights she's experienced.

But he's right. Avoiding being pinned down has always been crucial. She'd been lucky more than once to have had someone nearby or a knife in her hand to keep from being killed in such circumstance. But even knowing that there had to be a way to gracefully extricate herself in those moments hadn't helped her actually master the approach.

She bounces on her toes, eyeing him as she decides her approach before gently launching herself at his midsection, hands catching at his tunic to try and wrest him off-balance.

[highborn]

He moves carefully -- swiftly enough to be sure and steady, slowly enough for the eye to track. Both hands catch up her wrists, and it's a matter of the right grip for the right twist to have her fingers wrested off of him, then a shift of his stance to throw her over his hip and planted leg and to the ground.

It's a gentle throw, but it is, regardless, a throw. That might bruise. He's quick to step after her, a hand extended already to help her back up again.

"I can teach you that sort of thing, if you think you might find it useful," he says, no apology to be found anywhere in the tone.

[tender]

The impact drives the breath out of her. Even at half-speed, with an attempt towards gentleness, Derrica can still recognize how effective it might have been had either of them been moving faster, or if she were a larger opponent.

She grins up at him for a breathless moment before taking his hand, letting him haul her to her feet.

"Does it work that well all of the time?" She asks, before following quickly with, "I'd like to learn it. Even if all I do after that is give myself some space to cast, it would be a help."

Anything that doesn't end in her pinned is a help.

[highborn]

He steps back lightly as she rises back to her feet, and the nearly smothered smile is at least genuine. She's enthusiastic about it, just like he was. Good, that will help.

"It does if you can create the right balance and momentum," he says lightly. "That will come with practice. Do you think you can try it on me, or would you like to see it again first?"

[tender]

"Yes."

If there are bruises later, they'll be worthwhile. She stretches past the soreness, assuming the same stance Vanadi had initially demonstrated for her.

"Can you do it a little more slowly? Just so I can try to envision it in my head."

Though it'll be easier a second time, now that she's already felt the outcome. There's other questions she thinks about asking him, like where he learned to do this, what kind of fights he'd been in where he came from, but—

First things first: getting thrown onto her butt

[highborn]

A good answer. Vanadi nods, falls into the same stance, and invites her in with a quick toss of his head.

It's slower now, more deliberate -- and it comes with spoken instruction this time. He points out the angle of hand on wrist, the shift of the weight, the pull. This time it's less of a throw and more of being made to stumble after her own limbs, and there's a good chance Derrica can save herself from the outright fall at the end.

Thoughtfully, at the end, Vanadi adds, "This would be considerably easier with mats. I don't expect there's much of that around here, though."

[tender]

"There's hay," says Derrica, good-natured for someone with a whole new set of bruises. She's pleased with the instruction, but more so with the fact that Vanadi passed it along to her, spent so much of his time to impart all of this in the wake of the upheaval and terror of the abomination. She stretches, grimacing a little, before extending a hand to him.

"If you like, I can show you a good tavern and buy you a meal in repayment."

Good is a little bit subjective, but.

[highborn]

He eyes that hand thoughtfully, as if tempted, but his eyes flick back up to hers again with no move made to take it.

"Hmm." A tiny smile quirks his lips. "I hope you mean eventually. Why, you've not even thrown me yet, and I'm certain to be the easiest target you'll ever have a chance for."

Not that he's eager to meet the ground today, he never is, but he'd like to make sure his impromptu pupil has at least picked up a thing or two.