come_sailaway | September Catch-All [OPEN]

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September Catch-All [OPEN]

Who: Number 6 & YOU
What: Trying out the new fencing gear he got, drawing portraits, casino daydreaming, trying to steal jewelry & more!
When: September 1st for fencing, thru the month for other prompts
Where: All over the ship, see individual prompts
Warnings Potential for violence, alcohol/smoking, will warn for more as necessary

Challenge him to a friendly duel

When the notification comes that he has a package waiting in Sundries, he has no earthly idea what to expect. But, he must say, once he's torn the nautical paper off to find a fencing practice kit inside, he is rather pleased. Well, with one exception. The Epee he's been provided is neither blunted nor is it tipped with plastic the way it should be for safety. It very much seems to be a live and dangerous blade. Admittedly, he's not too sorry to have a functional weapon given the characters around here, but it means he'll have to be especially careful when practicing with it.

He's up on the sports deck making use of one of the empty tennis courts as his makeshift practice arena. In the absence of a tip protector, he's wrapped some gauze and medical tape from the infirmary around the sharp tip in an effort to achieve close to the same effect. That way, when he stabs the wall at the back of the court, it leaves slightly less of a divot.

He puts himself through some familiar drills, re-familiarizing himself with his technique and generally working to improve his stance and remember his form. It's clear just from looking that he's had some experience with this. If only he had a proper partner to fence, alas.

Have your portrait drawn

He doesn't tend to flaunt it often, but Number 6 actually does have a bit of talent for the arts. Perhaps he's not the most creative of minds, but he's rather good at capturing likenesses in portraiture. So, on various days and in various places throughout the ship, such as the dining hall, the sports deck, the library, and even in some of the pubs and bars (or anywhere, your choice), he will sit himself down quietly in the corner with a pad of paper over his knee and a pencil in hand. Anyone who catches his interest may become the new subject of his drawing. For the most part, they are flattering renditions. He doesn't mind if someone wants to observe, he'll simply nod to them and keep scratching with his pencil until he's satisfied.

Once he completes his drawing, he'll approach his subject and hold out the sketch to ask, "Excuse me, I wondered if you might like this?"

Lost in the game

With a cigarette in hand and whiskey in front of him, he sits at one of the blackjack tables idly playing against an invisible dealer. It's hard to tell if he's enjoying himself. He's got a far-off look on his face as he idly scratches the table to request another "hit." Win or lose, he doesn't seem to have much of a reaction. His mind is obviously elsewhere. He's so zoned out, in fact, that on this rare occasion even someone who isn't particularly stealthy might be able to sneak up behind him unawares.

Jewelry shopping

Right. The time has come to investigate that jewelry store. Why is it that no one is allowed to take anything? Of all the places on this ship, why there? He can be found bending over the displays, scrutinizing the various pieces through the glass. There doesn't appear to be any way to get at them. Not any way that doesn't involve a bit of violence, that is. So be it.

He goes, briefly, to the nearest bar and brings back with him one of the bar stools. Raising it over his head, he prepares to bring it down on one of the cases. Little does he know, that won't be enough to shatter it no matter how many times he bashes the glass.

But, he has to try.

Wildcard!
Hit me up with anything! Feel free to plot with me over on plurk

KansaiBanzai or on discord Cmdr.Crackers#5481

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All the more reason for her to train harder and actually get a damn medal- well. If she ends up going home, anyway.

Darcy retrieves a second saber from her bag, offering it out to him hilt-first.

"This'll be blunt enough. We'll do épée scoring on the body, but hitting with the whole blade like saber, ehn? Puts us on even footing."

At least she can trust him not to go easy on her in these bouts, so she'll have an Olympian worthy partner to train against.

"All right. A tad unconventional, but I'll allow it." He take the saber and tests it. Not his most familiar weapon, but he does know how to use it.

"How many points shall we go to? Not to worry, I shall be fair and call my hits as I feel them."

If it weren't for the fact that she was inches away from being able to hit this motherfucker with a sword, she'd bristle at 'I'll allow it'. Fucking prick.

"First to five? And good, obviously I'll be doing the same."

Darcy clears away some of her shit to set up a piste for them, taking up her position at her mark.

"I don't see anyone around to call Allez, so I'll just have a timer count down from five," she unplugs her headphones from her ipod and finds the appropriate app, "sound good?"

Take it out on him if you can~

"To five it is." He positions himself opposite of her. Since she's still in her mask, he puts his on now, firmly and checking to be doubly sure the bib is down in front. She's the type to go for the throat, he suspects.

"That will do for me. On five then." He lifts his sword in salute, hilt to the chin, then out and down with a swish. Once she's done the same, he will go en garde and wait for the timer.

Just from this, she may be able to see that he was not simply boasting about his level of skill. His knees are nicely bent, with his weight fully centered over a perfect L-shaped stance. His shoulders are in line over his hips, too, ensuring that the very least surface area of his chest is presented as a target to her. While he certainly seems relaxed, with his back hand loosely placed at his hip, the tip of his sword is right in line with her eyes, promising to be a sure threat the moment they start.

"Prêts," Darcy calls from her side, taking a few deep, slow breaths as she sets the timer.

Darcy's clearly not boasting about her level of skill either. She stances up seemingly on instinct, and there's a confidence and assurance to her posture that's surprising considering her usual hunched, twitchy demeanor. She's stone-still and doesn't move an inch until the timer goes off- at which point she launches into a flunge, clearing a decent amount of the piste in a couple of steps.

She's a natural, dropping into that stance like she was born to do it. For a moment, he forgets his grudges against her and simply enjoys the pleasure of going opposite such a skilled opponent. But that only lasts as long as the alarm takes to go off.

She is skilled, but still an impatient teen it seems. He'd been counting on that. Besides, she is smaller than him by some inches and thus her best play is to get inside his reach quickly. He doesn't let that happen, neatly taking two steps back as she gains on him before thrusting his arm out to meet her attack with a hard thwack. No sooner has he batted her blade aside than he comes in with the riposte, aiming to whack her right down the middle of her mask. The extra momentum of her flunge may be her undoing there because she's given him all the reach he needs to practically sit and wait for her to ram her own head into his sword.

Sure enough, she smacks directly into his blade with her head and barks an annoyed noise. Of course- unlike Izzy and Dimitri, a fencer wouldn't be intimidated by her throwing her whole self at him, and he'd know how to actually defend against it. She acknowledges the point with a huff and returns to her side. Deep breath. Just because she wants to beat him doesn't mean she can let herself get caught up in frustration. It's the first couple of points, they're still feeling out each other's fighting styles, she can still pull this back.

They reset, and onto the next point. Darcy darts forward again, still pushing the attack, still an aggressive fighter, but this time she doesn't extend quite as far, aiming for a slash across his chest.

He nods, accepting the point easily because, well, that was not ambiguous. But she seems to have learned her lesson. She's still aggressively forward, but not recklessly so now.

His responses to her are snappy and swift, but tightly controlled. His style seems to be grounded in economics of movement, the least effort applied for the most benefit. At this time, with her pressing the attacks, he's mostly reactionary. They develop some back and forth, a nice rhythm of parry riposte. He thinks he sees an opening and extends into it. However he's misjudged the timing slightly. So, he ends up swiping her in the arm, and she catches him across the chest at the same time. He stamps his foot to acknowledge the hit.

"If I'm not mistaken, that was simultaneous."

"Mm," she agrees with a stomp. Darcy can be reasonable, and without electronic scoring or a judge it's kind of senseless to argue it. Maybe if they plan this better next time they can set up one of their phones to record the bout. For now Darcy just wants to keep hitting him.

Reset again. She's starting to get a feel for how he fights- he's certainly more defensive than she is, more conservative in his movement. Peter in turn is presumably getting an idea of how she fights- which means she can start taking advantage of that.

The next point begins with Darcy appearing to go for a big flashy strike at his throat only to change directions at the last second; presuming he raises his blade to parry it, she tries to sneak a much faster and much less flashy hit under his arm. A feint her coaches would be proud of.

"That's two-one then," he reminds as he falls back into en garde.

He absolutely is expecting her to keep up the aggression, so he suspects nothing different as she starts in again on him...which is why there's a look of genuine surprise showing through the wire of his mask the moment he feels the point under his arm. He'd gone to parry a blade and found none to meet. He'd found death instead, metaphorically. Well, well. He's impressed.

"Hup!" he calls, standing down to acknowledge the point.

He doesn't look rattled. In fact, there's a new kind of passion blazing in those blue eyes. She's good and he's going to enjoy winning this fight more because of it. Now, it's time for him to flip things a little. After they reset again, she'll find him very swiftly going on the attack, like the sudden burst of a canon.

Edited 2022-09-11 22:37 (UTC)

"Two-two," Darcy confirms, returning to her side. This was one of her favourite things about the sport- setting up expectations and then smashing them. Being flexible, switching between flashy aggression and subtlety, training her opponent into expecting something and delivering something else. Something like chess and something like a magic trick and all at a speed comparable to a bullet out of a gun.

Despite her relative youth, Darcy's been competing ever since she was able to, as soon as she turned 12, and one doesn't get to be eighth in cadets in Europe by being unseasoned. Darcy doesn't flinch at the attack and rushes forward to meet it, drawing her blade up to block his strike and striking back down with a slash at his chest. This is far more her speed; sabre rewards aggression, after all.

Her familiarity with saber verses his own is staring to show in force now. She's met his aggression with calm skill, defanging any element of surprise he might have been counting on.

He sees the downward strike coming and attempts to parry, but her positioning is stronger than his and he doesn't catch her in time. It's another point against him. He stops to acknowledge it. And, if she's looking close, she might notice his brow furrowing with a hint of frustration. He's never going to hear the end of it if she manages to beat him to 5 touches.

"Three-two." He doesn't sound as smug now. But this isn't over yet.

He absolutely won't hear the end of it. It's worth all the hours she's spent training here just to hear the smugness seep out of his voice. This is as much in her element as Darcy can ever hope to be aboard the ship; under her mask, she's smiling.

Another reset. Her metaphorical engine is humming quite happily, her conditioning still holding up. Izzy had once thought her a 'once in a generation talent', and he wasn't necessarily wrong. Some things you can teach- footwork and technique- and some things you can't. Courage, tenacity, calm under pressure. This is where she's meant to be.

At allez, Darcy darts forward once again. This time there's no clear advantage off the mark for either fencer, and she can tell it's going to be one of those lengthy points where both search for an opening until it's given. No matter- she pushes the offensive with exploratory thrusts of her sabre anyway, trying to push him back.

He can practically hear the humming of her little engine. He can see the confidence in the way she sets herself up for the next round. At their first meeting, he'd been tempted to think it might be overconfidence. He knows better now.

He takes this next round very seriously, and they end up locked in a long chain of back and forth motions. He can almost get lost in this rhythm. There's something soothing in simply surrendering all thought and motion to one singular task. But here is where his age and lower stamina start to turn the tides against his favor. She may notice his breathing getting more labored. His timing starting to slip just a half-second or so behind hers. That's all it takes in a match like this. One time parrying just a fraction too slow and she has him.

Coach Moreau back home had said he'd take many excuses for losing a match. Being outmatched, outmaneuvered, bad sleep, injury, personal life reasons. But losing a match because they ran out of steam? Unacceptable. Darcy's conditioning remains excellent, and when Peter begins to flag, she surges forward with a quick swipe to his head, just barely threading the needle in between the parry of her last blow and his counterattack.

She waits for him to call the point. Sure, she could ask something like 'is that four-two now?' or gloat in some other way, but the match isn't over yet, and she wants to hear it from him.

Number 6 is already making a note to up the intensity of his training from this point on so he won't face such humiliation a second time. She can probably hear the grinding of his teeth as he spits out, "Four-two."

And he's back en garde as soon as it's said. He's practically sizzling with frustration. One can almost imagine a heat shimmer rising from his shoulders. One more point against him and he's going to lose all bragging rights. Intolerable!

His last stand will be fought aggressively, all that remains of his energy poured into preventing her from getting that one last point. But will it be enough?

It's not.

She meets his aggression with more of her own- and he's good of course, and he puts up a good fight, but he's flagging and she collapses on that like a feeding frenzy of piranhas. It's not clean or pretty, and it looks like it could go one way or the other, but in the brief opportunity that a breath leaves, she ripostes and finally goes in for the throat.

When she removes her mask after he calls the point, Darcy has a healthy coating of sweat, and she's at least breathing hard enough that he shouldn't feel too bad about his performance. Darcy had to work for it. But really her final blow comes when she offers a hand for him to shake, all polite smiles and perfect sportsmanship.

"Good match, Peter. You'll get me next time, ehn?"

She has him by the throat. It's just as he predicted.

"Five-two."

It's some consolation that she's breathing heavily too, that he gave her a good fight. Doesn't quite soothe the sting. Especially not once her mask is off and he can see the triumph of her expression in full.

His salute to her is quick and stern, radiating the frustration that hums through every sinew. But he is ever the gentleman, and so his handshake to her is as firm and polite as decorum dictates. No matter how much he'd like to snap the bones in her fingers as she lands that final devastating verbal blow.

"Count on it."

This is everything she wanted. Darcy's under no illusions that she's earned any kind of respect from him, has no ideas about him actually listening to her now. But in the way one does when one fights someone... well, she's learned a lot about him.

"Military?" she asks, as she grabs her towel to dry her face off, "where you learned?"

"I served," he answers, "Royal Airforce. But I learned to fence before that, while I was in school." It started as just a hobby, but he was so skilled at it his headmaster insisted on pushing him to keep going.

"Where did you learn?" He didn't bring a towel, so his sleeve will have to do.

He gets a second towel from her bag thrown at his head. Don't be gross, Peter.

Darcy scoffs, because of course he was in the fucking air force- derision for the other services is something inherited from her mother's army days.

"Local club. One of the coaches was a friend of a friend of my mother's, she got me lessons for a birthday when I was eight and I never stopped."

Darcy looks up from drying her face to aim a sledge square at him.

"I was kind of wondering. Since like- obviously you're not a boot like Marc. But you're as pompous and self-important as most of the commissioned officers my mum used to bitch about. Hard to tell if it was just a British thing or not, but it's good to know."

He catches it one-handed, lifts a brow in slight amusement, then uses it to dab his face without comment.

"What a fortuitous birthday present. Look where it's brought you."

If she's hoping to raise some kind of indignant reaction from him with her commentary on his enlistment, she's going to be disappointed. His expression remains flatly annoyed, the same as it was before. This is nothing he hasn't been called before.

"I'm flattered you take me for more than a rank and file soldier. I won't refute that there are plenty of officers who throw the station around looking for more respect than they have earned, but it does take a certain level of discipline to rise to the position I once occupied." Which wasn't actually strictly military but she doesn't need to know that. He will let her make her own assumptions.

Darcy of course does not mention that the lessons were partially a reward for the cessation of chasing her classmates around with sticks. She was very big into knights and had too much energy to know what to do with when she was that age. That would absolutely not help her case.

It's also absolutely irritating that he didn't even rise to the derisive snort about the air force. Just... ugh. This fucking guy.

She should've just taken the win and walked away. As it stands she's going to start packing up her shit; she'd gotten a decent match and she could go through the rest of her drills later.

"Ass-kissing," she coughs in response to 'discipline'.

"And it's not flattering. Literally everyone knows vegetables don't do shit."

Number 6 would not be at all surprised at that revelation. She does seem like the sort of child who needed something to occupy her lest she becomes a terror.

speaking of terrors, he's at least determined to spoil the afterglow for her here and now. So far that seems to be working since she's very pointedly packing up to leave.

"You think I brown-nosed my way to the top of my field?" He scoffs. "Do I seem the type for that?"

Remarkably, the fencing lessons didn't stop her being a terror. If anything it made her more efficient in her terrorizing.

"Uh, yes," he doesn't, but Darcy's beyond accurate insults now. She's about half a step away from just calling his face ugly and stupid. Lucky that she's already got her bag on her shoulder, and she's prepared her closing statement.

"Look- you're probably never going to actually respect me. Even if I beat you a hundred fucking times. I don't know whether that's an age thing or a lady thing or whatever. Not my problem. But Undine really, really fucking likes me. And, as I just proved? I'm better than you. So. Deal with that."

And with that, she'll very literally vanish from sight. Because she's proud of that dunk and doesn't want to give him a chance to counter it.

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be_seeing_you - 2022-09-27 19:17 (UTC) - Expand

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