Mini EP...

[wedobones]

More than anything, Gideon just feels like she needs to work off some nervous energy. She misses her two-hander like a limb, like a part of her. She misses her rapier and her gauntlett which, thouh they hadn't ever loved her like her two-hander had, they'd been fine.

(These are not, an insidious little voice reminds her in the back of her head. The only things you miss. She chooses not to listen to that voice).

There's gym equipment set up in the park and, of all of it, Gideon appreciates the heavy hanging bag the best. She'd bought herself some gloves that reminded her in fit and heft of her gauntlet and now she's doing her level best to knock the shit out of it. In the absence of a warm and willing body and a sword in her hand, it's probably the best next thing.

It stops her thinking, anyway.

Comments

[shieldmaiden_rohan]

Eowyn had two wooden practice swords, which she treasured nearly as much as the steel sword that had been made for her by the swordsmith of Edoras. They had been made by a craftswoman here, and Eowyn had ensured in their design and creation that they were weighted carefully. There were those here who chose to "re-enact" times before their own, and so the skill of creating wooden swords had not been lost. Glad was she that this was so.

She had just taken the swords to be sanded and oiled and was returning with them to her home when saw she Gideon in the park. The swords she carried in scabbards across her back, and the weight of them reminded her of the tasks that would be set to her by the swordmaster.

"Well met," she greeted the other warrior.

[complexfemalecharacter]

"Remind me not to piss you off," Maeve comments as she gets closer, her hands pushed into the pockets of her coat, head tilted as she watches Gideon punch and punch. While Maeve likes to think she's relatively good at taking care of herself, all she has in her arsenal is a good solid kick to the balls if anyone pisses her off.

Not Gideon. She looks like she could really take someone out. Probably with ease.

[wedobones]

Gideon likes Eowyn a lot, even if she does make her feet coarse and uncouth and all of those things. There's something graceful about her that always makes Gideon feel like she's dragging her knuckles along the floor; the difference between a brawler's two-hander and a Cav's rapier. She smiles when she sees her, though, steeping back from the bag, her chest heaving, hands dropping to her sides.

"Hi."

[wedobones]

"It's actually way more difficult than you'd think it piss me off," says Gideon, landing one more solid punch to the bag before she steps back, sweat sheening the skin left bare by her t-shirt - collarbones and forearms, her biceps. "And I'm way better with a sword in my hand, but...yeah. Here we are."

[complexfemalecharacter]

"That's too bad, I was sort of hoping I could start aiming you at people who piss me off," Maeve answers with a grin. She wouldn't. That'd be too much like using a friend and for all Maeve's sharp edges, she's really not the sort. She's a good friend, better than most people expect her to be.

"A lot of people piss me off," she warns. "Before you agree to something like that just because we're friends."

[wedobones]

"It's like you read my fucking mind," says Gideon, grinning. The longer she knows Maeve, the less Maeve reminds her of Ianthe, which is a blessing, to be honest.

"Want me to show you some things?"

[shieldmaiden_rohan]

Gideon fought the heavy weight in front of her, and perhaps also fought a heavy weight on top of her. Eowyn knew such a feeling, if it was so, but she would not ask in this moment.

"Does your practice prosper this day?"

[wedobones]

As usual, when she's talking to Eowyn, it takes Gideon a few moments to figure out what Eowyn has just said to her. Finally, she nods, sweaty red hair slipping into her eyes.

"Not bad," she says. "Working up a sweat, anyway."

[complexfemalecharacter]

For someone who'd grown up in Moordale, Maeve is pretty tough and she knows it. But Moordale had been picturesque. People there dressed a certain way, talked a certain way, did most everything a certain way, unless they lived in the caravan park and then they were slags or chavs or cock biters.

Maeve had been lucky enough to be all three.

It just hadn't been a town with a lot of fighting in it and so Maeve knows she's tougher than most people who lived there, but she sure as hell isn't tougher than Gideon.

"Yeah, okay," she agrees. "I like knowing I can kick someone's ass."

[shieldmaiden_rohan]

Eowyn nodded.

"Such practice clears the mind as well as tiring the body, I think, and is well for all who would be prepared for the unknown."

There were many unknown things here, and of course all might depart for their own lands at any hour.

[wedobones]

"Well, I can definitely show you that," says Gideon, pushing her copper hair back from her face. "And, you know. Be back up if you ever need me."

She makes awesome back up.

[wedobones]

"Yeah."

Gideon's golden eyes are drawn to the crossed swords across Eowyn's back. With a pang, she can't help but think about Camilla Hecht. It hurts like a bitch.

[sir_samuel]

Vimes has never considered what Carrot Ironfoundersson would look like as a woman, but now, watching this giantess pummel her punching bag six ways to Octeday, he thinks he might have found his answer. Vimes is sitting on a park bench not far away from the little outdoor gym, and he finds his gaze pulled towards the sound of fists thumping leather as he eats his sandwich. Once he's done, he tosses the wrapper away, and then wanders over to her with his hands in his pockets.

"What the hell did that thing ever do to you?"

[wedobones]

"It talked shit about my mom. Obviously."

If that had been all it took, there wouldn't have been a single acolyte of the Locked Tomb left unpunched. Gideon lifts one arm, bending it king her head and stretching, her fingers grazing between her shoulder blades.

[complexfemalecharacter]

"So what's this about a sword?" she asks, stepping closer to the bag and giving it a gentle shove. "You can't just... get another one?"

It wouldn't be the same, she's sure, but then Maeve doesn't know a lot about swords in general. She's pretty sure she's never even seen one outside of television and movies. Unless she counts the weird plastic swords the theatre department used back in Moordale.

[wedobones]

The look in Gideon's copper eyes is flat and utterly incredulous.

"I tried that once," she says, thinking of her rapier, of how obvious it had been to some of the other Cavs that she'd been longing for other things. "It was a bit of a cluster fuck."

That's not true - she'd still been a hell of a swordsman, she can admit that - but her two-hander will always be the love of her life.

[shieldmaiden_rohan]

She noticed Gideon's eyes drawn to the practice swords, and was not surprised by the direction of the other warrior's gaze.

"Would you wish to practice further? These swords I have made here and they are weighted well and properly made."

Perhaps Gideon would not wish it, but Eowyn thought that she would.

[wedobones]

"Hell, yeah," says Gideon, and she can't pretend not to be enthusiastic about it. She hasn't held a sword in her hand, practice or otherwise, since the day she arrived in Darrow. It feels like not entirely knowing her purpose anymore. "I'd...Yeah. I'd like that."

[complexfemalecharacter]

"What?" Maeve asks with a laugh, catching Gideon's look. "I don't know anything about swords. I lived in a bloody caravan and went to secondary school with a bunch of idiots."

Gideon's life seems like something out of a fantasy novel, as far as Maeve is concerned. It's about as far from her own life as something can get.

"Okay, then," she says. "Show me some stuff."

[wedobones]

"Okay," says Gideon, relieved for the distraction, honestly. She knows Maeve isn't interested in her, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy the view. "Show me your stance."

[daughterofawolf]

Eponine's having a serious think about going to look at some motorcycles -- cutting through the park to give herself time to ponder how much saved-up money she can devote to being spontaneous, and how much, reasonably, she'll be saving regularly by living with Ellie -- when she spots Gideon, knocking the hell out of a hanging punching bag.

Eponine doesn't practice her fighting in public, herself, much, though she's also not a cavalier. She's been practicing at all more than usual, since Anne's started teaching her some ways to improve. It's not a bad idea, though she can admit that when she stops and watches there's a bit of it that's simply impressed and not pragmatic.

"Remind me to find you the next time something awful shows up in town," she teases, wandering over to the tree and leaning on it. She's not sure Gideon has ever seen her fight, so it's got a different connotation to her, perhaps, and that's fine. Between her with her knives and pure scrap, Ellie's aim with a gun, and Gideon's sheer strength, they'd actually be a hell of a team, but it works as a benignly flirty joke.

"Is the bag a stand-in, or did you just need to get out?"

[pylades_drunk]

It's been two full months now since Edgar's disappearance: a few weeks less since the world spectacularly failed to end. (Some sort of joke about a whole baby that could've been conceived and born since Neil left, more or less a week or two.)

It seems like nothing, like it happened yesterday, and it seems like it should have been years.

So far, Grantaire has employed, in the interest of not just sitting in the dark loathing life for its turns and himself for not bearing them, a few of his old means of getting out of his head: drinking; painting [destroying the paintings, regretting destroying the paintings]; the occasional party drug; sitting with friends and listening to them. He's left a few to the side -- fucking and fighting. The former because it likely wouldn't work and it'd feel even worse if it did, and the latter, because there hasn't been an opportunity to fight a person and it hasn't been nice enough to practice outside.

Today it is, though, and in a fit of restfulness, he brings his canne out to the park. If nothing else, he can get his stances back in shape.

He's not expecting to see the fiery-haired young person -- woman, he figures out after a moment of watching her, but from behind it takes him a moment -- giving a punching bag a run for its money that would impress Bahorel.

"Nice form," he calls out, leaning on his canne. He can't repress a small smile.

[sir_samuel]

"Well, in that case. Can't have punching bags goin' around talking shit about your mum."

He takes out a cigar as the young woman pummels the bag within an inch of its not-actually-life. There are people who would call Vimes a good fighter. He'll concede that he knows how to get himself out of trouble, but that's the whole point--you go in, you do as much damage as you can muster, and then you run the hell away. The 'run away' part had always been a pretty significant aspect of Sam Vimes' brawling strategy.

Now this woman, she's a fighter. And she's not one of those fancy types, either. None of that Marquis of Fantailler crap here, no siree. Vimes liked her already.

[shieldmaiden_rohan]

Eowyn smiled at Gideon's enthusiasm and slid the scabbards off her back to bring them forward.

"Choose your sword, then. They are made to be the same, but I would not say that they truly are. No two swords are exactly like each other, and that is their beauty."

She did truly believe that swords could be beautiful.

[wedobones]

"Why not both?" says Gideon, landing a final, solid punch (thinking of Cytherea, yeah, but also of Palamades gone supernova, of Ianthe Tridentarius' drawl, of Harrowhark Nonagesimus' pinched, pointed, awful little face) before she steps back, sweat sheening exposed skin at collarbones, forearms, biceps. She gives Eponine a shy sort of smile. "Fuck. I'd love something to fight right about now."