Closed An Unlikely Spar

[Matthew]

28th of Spring, 514 AV.

He hadn't been so sure where to find her. Thinking back, all of their meetings had been her coming to him. There had been the Tent Meet, but that hadn't really been a one-on-one sort of thing. So if he wanted a private engagement on his own terms, where would he find her? In the end, he had decided that perhaps it would be more effective just to continue doing things the way that they had been doing them all along. So he had taken a sleeping bag and a change of clothes. He would just camp in that tent. He trusted that Web would do what needed to be done to keep the tent empty. He also trusted that one of them would eventually hear word that some random guy had taken up camp in their tent and would come to scout it out.

It wasn't the worst place to sleep. He had used some of his older clothes to make a makeshift pillow that would keep his hair from resting in the dirt. He found that as long as he took daily baths he managed to keep the smell of the Tent City off of him. When he wasn't at work, he lurked in the Tent. When he lurked in the Tent, he studied his weapon.

It was almost meditative. He stared at it for bells on end, turning it over in his hands. It was a simple thing. A dagger was a dagger, though there were a variety of ones to choose from. He had gone with the most simple. A hilt and a blade, oddly heavy in his hand. He tested it a few times, rolling it back and forth on his palm, watching the blade glitter and gleam. It was most likely designed to be a secondary weapon, a back-up in times of crisis. That was what it was to him as well. His mind was his primary weapon, but he was not arrogant enough to think that he would be able to completely depend on that forever. No, recent events had shown otherwise. He would need to learn more than that, much more. He turned the dagger over a few more times, still just testing the weight and getting used to it. Know your weapon. He could hear the voice of the Konti from Mura, so many years ago.

There the Harlot sat, cross-legged on the floor, sleeping bag underneath him. He was draped in an earth-colored cloak, the heavy folds hiding the fact that he was playing with a dagger underneath them. It wasn't intentional slyness. It was just comfortable this way.

[Fallon]

When Fallon caught word of a certain intruder sulking around her tent, there was a slight raise of alarm. Feet were lifted, the quick steps of her and the furry companion Orvin leading her slinking on through the twists and turns. A sharp march forward with a definite scowl upon her face. Steel clinked, the jostle of equipment as she took those mighty strides out through the city and back to the encampment she had set up. A chew upon her lip, those eyes sharp in their focus and staring. Who could it be? What did they want? She could feel the pressing of that frustrated growl in the back of her throat, the puff of air as she tugged her hair round and tied it in place.

It was things like this that interrupted her work, a pain that stopped her flow of thought and forced her hand to look to the security of things. How many more were going to turn up like that? Did she need to move elsewhere and seek privacy behind the four walls of a room? She shuddered at that thought, there was no personality in rooms she found - no warmth other than it simply being a place to lie ones head. A waste when a tent proved just as good and a lot more portable. Let the people keep their buildings.

Orvin gave a dart off ahead to the tent when it came into view, his head wriggling underneath the entrance and a flurry of yaps escaping. Obviously whoever had decided to grace the tents was still here, intruding upon her meagre territory. There was a sharp inhale, a pause before the tent flaps as she considered her position. Someone, was in her tent, they had approached her for one reason or another, and made their self at home. A man, by what word had suggested, and one who was not particularly good at maintaining a hidden stance among the folds. So, they wanted to be noticed and spotted?

Her hand gave a tap upon the hilt of the kukri, fingers then curling around leather as she grasped it. A gentle pull upon it, a partial draw as a just in case. The left hand came up, splitting between the fabric and separating it. her form quickly followed afterwards, steady steps, the head ducking through the gap before it closed. Surprise was what came next. Her brow cocked upwards, the lids slinking down into a narrow. For a moment there was silence, eyes flickering down to the cloak covered harlot that had made himself at home - pristine as ever despite his slightly unkempt clothing.

A lick of lips and the mercenary took the man in properly. She herself was still in her clothes of work, worn leathers, dirty boots and tired cloths - she tried her best to maintain some semblance of cleanness, but that was a hard task for her line of work. Clearing her throat, she spoke, "Made yourself at home I see?" the attention snapped down to Orvin, his nose having gone to snorting and grunting at the harlot in wonder. She released a sigh, "Orvin. Leave it." Gloved fingers gave a snap, and his head turned to her in mid action, "Come here. Heel."

She only gave a mumble of exasperation as he took himself to sitting next to the man, his large eyes staring playfully. Fingers eased around the kukri hilt, and she took a step in proper to address him, "So... what are you doing in my tent Matthew? Did you need something? A word? Or assistance?"

[Matthew]

A beast was now snorting and sniffing him, making odd little noises that rumbled from the back of his throat. Matthew blinked a few times at the creature, remembering it from the Tent Meet. Bitzer would not be far behind, no doubt. Should he greet the beast? Pet it? Offer it a treat? He did not have a treat. He blinked a few more times, slightly put off. It shouldn't be as hard as he was making it out to be. There was nothing complex about interacting with a creature who couldn't speak. Beasts were beasts, driven to act out of the most basic of instincts. He tilted his head very slowly to the side and furrowed his brow, and then very slowly spoke. "Hello, creature."

Orvin continued sniffing, happy to ignore the Harlot. Matthew tilted his head in the other direction and then glanced away, okay to exist in comfortable silence.

The clearing of the throat broke the silence however, causing the sharp blue stare to drift upwards and lock upon her. A polite and utterly professional smile graced Matthew's features, a hand drifting out from underneath the cloak to briefly brush away a single curl of black hair that had fallen down his forehead. "Hello, Bitzer. I would hardly call a tent a home. It was uncomfortable. I am impressed with abilities of all the people who live here. It is not something I think I could do." He was about rise before the creature sat next to him, causing the Harlot to pause. Now it would feel rude. He hesitated for a moment and then settled back down, instead opening his cloak and tossing it over his shoulders. This exposed the dagger in his other hand, which he offered out to Bitzer. "I was wishing to learn how to use this. You seem skilled with a blade, so I thought it could be a bonding educational experience."

He spoke the last of the words slowly, as if greatly thinking them through before actually speaking them. Bitzer would have seen some of this behavior from the Harlot. Sometimes he would try to act like they were casual friends, but it was very obviously an act. It wasn't that he held any malice, it was just that he didn't understand the concept. He always seemed slightly confused, and that was because he always felt slightly confused. He knew that friends had bonding experiences. What exactly made those specific experiences bonding ones, though? He doubted it was physical bonding. Apparently that complicated friendships.

After she took the dagger or after he put it to the side, he would pull two practice daggers from behind him. They were simple wooden things with metal cores, apparently weapons that could be safely practiced with that would imitate the weight and shape of a real dagger. "Would that be acceptable? I can pay you for your services, or trade knowledge of my own."

[Fallon]

”Comfort can be achieved in such places such as this with the right tools. You just need to know how to do it,” she looked down upon him. What an unusual man, a pendulum that swung between states of mind. The mask of work, and then round to this one of simple complacency. For a moment she stared, her eyes narrowing down to that of the face of business. What did he want? The subtleties, the tones as he tested and tried to work his way round. With a flicker down to the blade, and the offering of the dagger, did she gingerly reach out and take it.

A careful inspection, she turned the metal within her grasp. Firstly she looked upon the point, and then down the keen edge that marked it so. A dagger alright, an implement of killing. She ran the thumb across it, an exhale onto the metal that made it so. Why did he want to learn how to use it? Was the first question that came to mind. She gave the implement a twist, then holding onto the blade end she offered him the hilt to take. Eyes however, returned to him with a thoughtful gaze. Turning to her own blades, she gave a pace round, fingers patting Orvin on the head and drawing his attention away for a few ticks. His head gave a turn, eyes following the pointed finger to the corner, ”Leave him Orvin.”

With a huff, he begun the slide away in a shuffle of movements – head low and his eyes sliding between the pair. So, he wanted training? Part of her inner sceptic rose up at that point, brushing and making her wonder what his actual intentions were. Fingers turned onto the belt buckle, letting her own weapons be lowered to the floor. If it was simple training, then she knew she would not require such implements. Armour came next, the peeling free of the leathers until once more she padded over to him – the kukri quickly claimed and tucked into the folds of the sash. Never, did she go anywhere without it.

Fallon looked at him, ”Don’t… put on the airs and masks Matthew. I will require you to be yourself in this exercise,” she paused and then continued, ”Do you even know what is meant by a bonding experience? Outside of the obvious physical implications of course. Can you define it?” Fingers gave a tug at her shirt collar, and then the slow, careful process of rolling up her sleeves begun. She needed to think about how she was going to do this. A kukri may have been one weapon, but a dagger was different, ”Regardless. I shall assist in your… learning.”

Taking a perch down before the man, she placed her kukri between her and him, ”I must wonder though. Why do you wish to learn to use a dagger? I understand that Sunberth is not the safest of places to dwell in, but it is not the only incentive. Why now?” She held the gaze, and then turned down to the practice daggers. Shaking her head, she once more spoke, ”I do not take payment, mainly due to the rarity of being asked for such things, however… Practice weapons? No, if you are training with me you will not be using practice ones. I have few conditions, and that is one of them. Fakes are useless in replicating the real thing. Real danger however is something that must be understood.” There was a chew upon the lip, a crease of the brow. This had happened before in the past, a kukri user helping a dagger wielder. Fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, an inhale as she remembered what happened last time. How she had more experience, perhaps it would be easier to transfer more knowledge across. But before that, she needed some grounding as to what he knew, ”What do you know about daggers?”

[Matthew]

Matthew watched the beast as it slowly plodded away. He had recently thought about getting himself a pet of some sort. In a way, they were the perfect form of social interaction for him. They didn't require actual conversation, just a certain amount of attention. Perhaps they would be a good way for him to get the interactions that he needed without the actual commitment that was required from a human relationship.

His stoic stare was tugged away as he felt Fallon's gaze intensify on him, his head turning to take her in. Airs and masks? Himself? His brow furrowed a brief moment, not quite sure how to react. The concept of himself was oddly foreign to him. Perhaps it was because he spent so long putting forth an act of sorts. Somewhere in the front of his mind, the steady sound of a low buzz briefly pierced his thoughts. He took a moment to take a deep breath, to focus, to center, to use minor meditation techniques to will the buzz away. It was soon gone, a confusing occurrence that was becoming more recent. At the request of a definition though, his eyes noticeably reacted with a blur of movement. "A process of developing a close and interpersonal relationship. The definition is not a problem. The concept behind the definition is something I struggle with. I have never had a close and interpersonal relationship." He didn't sound discouraged by the fact, and he wasn't. It was simply that, a fact.

The hilt was accepted as it was offered back, the Harlot beginning to absentmindedly spin it in his palm again. So no practice weapons, then. He wanted to eventually learn to use two, so he would need to pick up a second dagger if there were going to be other teachers like her. A small nod of thanks was given as she declined payment, eyes drifting down to stare at the other blade she had placed between them. A dagger, but with a very different bend to it? He studied it for a moment longer before glancing back up, firm gaze on her own.

"I've always wanted to study a form of self defense a bit more closely. I have dabbled in both hand-to-hand combat and dagger fighting before, but never really focused. While I like to think that my current set of skills would allow me to get out of any dangerous situations, I feel that would be a mistake to assume. Sometimes violence is required. Therefor, I must learn violence. As for daggers, I know very little. I've studied how to kill someone with a dagger, such as what vital organs can be reached with this specific length of blade. Other than that, not very much at all." He patiently watched her, a sponge ready to absorb every single thing that she could give him.

[Fallon]

Orvin gave a pad behind her, ears pricking and turning as he took the man in. For a moment he simply stared, unmoving features before he set himself down to the side with a watchful expression. Let the humans do their business, whatever it may have been. Fingers flexed, eyes looking down to the weapon as she contemplated his words, ”In both cases it is theory over practice. The actual action than the multitude of definitions. So, you know of some things but not the core mechanics behind such actions.”

There was a moment of pondering, her eyes narrowing as she tried to recall the lessons from seasons gone. There was a rub of the jaw, and her fingers tapped the floor in a steady rhythm. She watched the spinning dagger, and gently reached her hand forward to take it from him once more. From there she placed it upon the floor, and begun the lesson properly, ”Although a concept of theory is good, you must also understand the tool in which you use. So, let us begin there with the anatomy of such a thing.”

“A dagger is a sharp bladed implement, it can be single or double edged and is tapered to a single point,” Her left gave a gesture down to the blade itself then, the tip tapping the point, ”Because of the size of it also, it is a weapon used primarily for piercing, instead of cleaving like a majority of bigger weapons. Some daggers, like the kukri here, have fuller grooves,” she point to the grooves that ran along the spine of the kukri at that point, her gaze lifted then to see if he was still listening, and then returned to the task at hand, ”Some daggers have hilts that serve as a miniature guard – you may have noticed the kukri is absent of such things –, and inevitably come down to the small hilt and finally to the pommel,” her finger gave a tap at the opposite end, ”A pommel is not just something to look nice however, it can be also used to create blunt damage. Should it be both large and weighted enough of course.”

Taking up the kukri she held onto the blade end, and splayed open her right hand. From there she rested the hilt in the crook of her thumb and forefinger and simply held it in position for him to look upon, ”The next thing to take note of is the grip. Take up your own for this one. A grip is important, for it allows the maximising of control of the weapon along with the length of the strike. Comfort is also one to consider, it lets you know the best manner in which to hold the weapon and will be something that changes as you become more used to such an implement.” The fingers of her right curled around the hilt, the fore finger resting towards the join and the latter stretching down to the rest of the hilt – relaxed in their hold. From there she released the blade end and presented the hold to him, ”Let’s see how you hold it, shall we? And any questions? They are useful for I can try to then assist in focusing on particular areas.”

[Matthew]

A sideways glance was tossed towards Orvin, but Matthew found that he was oddly comfortable with the presence of the creature. It did not require the same sort of upkeep that two-legged creatures did. He tilted his head almost at the same moment that Orvin gave a tilt of his, the two beings mirroring each other in a briefly eerie moment. Then Fallon spoke, breaking the odd spell and returning Matthew's focus to her.

The Harlot concentrated, calling upon what limited meditation techniques that he had to truly focus upon the woman. The rest of the world peeled away to leave the girl and the girl alone, her face thoughtful as she studied the weapon that he had given her. His stare followed her gesture and used her words as instructions, examining the dagger with a sharp and steady stare as she slowly walked him through the anatomy of the simple blade. A slow nod was given as the knowledge clicked in his mind and was filed away, blue eyes shimmering at the new information was readily absorbed. He was mildly delighted to find that he was learning more than he had thought he would. Both dagger and kukri were now an entry in the library of his orderly mind. New terms and words were added and circled, some underlined for exploration at a later time. Concepts were written in bold print, even his mental scribing having a certain organization to it.

His head tilted yet again as she offered him the blade, focused mind analyzing it. His mind ran back through the description of the grip, which was something that would need to provide both comfort and control. He reached for the hilt and wrapped his fingers around it, instantly feeling how tight his hand immediately clutched to the leather. He barely shook his head, silently realizing his own mistake, knowing that such a tight hold would minimize both comfort and control. He forced himself to loosen his fingers, holding it lightly but securely, finding it oddly hard to go against some sort of natural impulse that demanded he clutch it for dear life. After a moment of tinkering, he slowly spun the hilt in his hand and held it with the blade facing down. Both grips felt the same, they just put the blade in a different position. He fiddled a bit more, slowly growing more intimate with the weapon he had been presented.

Questions? He stared at the weapon a moment longer and then glanced back up at her, voice soft and distant. "Are you familiar with using two weapons at once? If that is a goal, is it best to learn as I go or practice it after I master using just one of the weapons?"

[Fallon]

Fallon watched him as he took in her words, that still and silent look as he processed the information. Eyes stared, a flicker as he moved his gaze back and forth, whilst her own hand once more lowered the blade to the floor. There was regarding, a study and a repeating – mimicry almost as he tried to copy as she had done. Only hearing risked the chance of forgetting, seeing helped in remembering and doing finalised the understanding of the action. Muscle memory and repetition ensured the practice of skills and an intimate knowledge of them. It was how she had managed to get so far with her own after all. The two grips, one of slashing and one of a downward stab – both used for different ways of harming. One length, one strength.

Meeting his gaze she lifted her chin in regard to his question, eyes blinking as it was processed. In honesty she had only just begun the art of using two blades at once – and that was for the tulwar. Lips pursed, hands coming together as she tried to use her words to explain her logic.

”Using two blades at once is something I know of,” Fallon begun, her brow creasing as she made the shape with her hands as if gripping two invisible hilts – her tulwars -, ”Whilst I know of it, I am still new to the use of two blades simultaneously. If I may give advice on my own experiences dual wielding,” she paused, brow creasing as she tried to remember the times she had fought using them. Her wrists attempted to move simultaneously as if to mimic the tilting and turning of blades within her grasp, ”It is difficult. And something I would not attempt without some level of competency with the weapon in question.” Her hand gestured to the tulwars at that point, ”I only recently started to use both at the same time. Rather haphazardly I must say, it is easy to forget about the blade or understand space when using the other limb let alone keeping it in balance with the one already in use.”

She then took his second question, or more correctly the other half of it. She imagined in her mind that the ‘if’ should actually be removed if not for the specific way his question was posed, ”I advise getting to some level of competency of using one weapon before picking up the second in the other hand. If anything for safety and to make sure you do not fall onto your own blade.”

Taking up the kukri once more she rose to her feet, hand stretching down for him to take should he wish to, ”So, you have a grip to work with, firm but flexible. Hard I know, when you think you’re going to die and danger is before you. Fighting is… like a dance, there is a flow and a series of steps – of course, your partner doesn’t tell you what they are, so you need to be able predict them and work with it.” Rolling her shoulders she gave a series of small stretches. Toes wriggled in her boots, a gentle pull out of the muscles as she stood before him, ”Your stance, how do you stand when you’re going to fight? Remember you need to be able to move easily, so anything too tense will slow you down.” She slid her feet about, turning so she was side onto him, knees bent slightly and the kukri held low, ”When you’re ready, well give me a slow strike. Slow, let me see how you move.”

[Matthew]

His eyes only continued to sharpen, the blue seemingly turning just a shade lighter as the ticks went by. He appreciated that she shared wisdom that was seemingly pulled from actual experience in the field, as hinted at by the moments of deep thought that crossed her face. Questions were caught at the tip of his tongue, held for a more suitable time, curiosity peaking at the mention of space. While he was aware of the exact definition of the word, he felt that it had a more specific and important meaning when said in the context that Web used it in.

Matthew's brow furrowed for a moment, concentration broken. Not Web. Bitzer. He had such a hard time with these different code names. Should he have had a code name?

The Harlot readily took her hand as she offered it, tugging on it to support his ascent upwards. A dance... he had practiced dance before, though he was not at all any good at it yet. One day he hoped to be. It would perhaps come in handy if his profession ever reached the heights that he hoped it would. He peered at her as she continued to explain, absorbing what he could and tucking what he didn't understand away for a later time. He stretched at the same time that she did, a methodical tug of his head from side to side, a roll of each shoulder, a bend at each elbow, a swivel of the hips and a bending of each knee. At the mention of a stance, he glanced down at himself, uncertain. He had never taken a stance before. Two options immediately presented themselves, one being a stance of complete and utter lack of knowledge, one being a stance that showed knowledge in a different field. Barely any knowledge though, and knowledge learned several years ago on a distant island. Or was it distant? How far away was this place from the tranquil world of Mura?

Each of his fists came up, the dagger slowly spinning so that it was held in the opposite direction that most people usually wielded it. Lessons from a time far gone came to mind, his body turning just a bit, both fists held at chin level, knees slightly bent, empty fist in front and armed fist in the back. He stepped forward, displaying his odd grace, though at a speed that was barely more than a mere walk. As he moved Fallon would notice his lush lips moving, perhaps hearing the soft whisper as he repeated ancient lessons to himself. "First, judge distance."

His lead fist jabbed forward, a bit quick, though not coming at all close to hitting her if she allowed it to continue its flight. It pulled back quickly, the arm not fully extended into the blow. "Then, cross distance."

The Harlot pushed off of his heel, moving sluggishly still, focusing on the transfer of energy from his thrust up to his arm. His bent knee extended as he moved forward, his hip twisted and his back arm pushed out, shimmering blade arching at his newest teacher. It would perhaps be a blow that one would expect from Matthew. There was nothing special about it at all. It was like he had been taught a single simple form and had practiced it until he had the motion perfectly down.

[Fallon]

Fallon inspected him watching the expression as he worked upon the name and weighed it up within his mind. It was a lot to process, she remembered when she was first taught to use the kukri - admittedly it was easily half her age ago, when hands were smaller and everything seemed a lot more cumbersome. There was a rotation of the wrist, limbs easing into movement and shaking off her previous moment of stillness. So, this was how she was due to spend her afternoon - instead of working for coin she was to teach. Brilliant.

Holding her pose, the tip pointing downwards, she worked on maintaining a quicker and more defensive stance. It was her free hand that coiled up into a fist, the arm bending round so the knuckles pressed into her spine - it kept the unused limb out of the way and spurred those age old lessons within her head of fighting styles. Lips gave only a curl, forward foot leading to the side and the back one following in its shadow. Flickers of her time as a squire came and went, the key elements of combat ringing within her mind; dodging, sword, shield and range. Of course, it was adjusted to fit the scenario; there was no shield for one and range would have to be replaced with speed.

She watched the dagger rise, the back grip making itself known to her eyes followed by the minimising of doing anything remotely offensive - it was defensive instead of anything else. Or, it was something else. Fallon continued her slow stepping round, eyes flickering up and down as she weighed it within her mind. It reminded her of a boxing stance; one fist forward and the other back, both with the intention of defending the head from oncoming blows. Lips gave a purse, but for the moment she said nothing on it - she needed more information before she could give more advice.

Still, she kept to her stance and brought herself once more before him catching only the mumbles. There was a firm lean back as the fist came, a reflexive jerk to avoid the blow. The once forward lean snapped away, with the leading foot pulling back so both heels brushed against each other. She remembered the movements, urged the rear foot to move and once more returned to her original stance. The rock, her ears twitched eyes focusing down upon him as he moved - the blade came forward, slow and arching round. In response she lifted the kukri, elbow bending as it rose in its slow movements and looking to collide the inner curve with the straighter blade. From there she would push back to parry it, a gentle movement before she once more took on a teaching tone.

"Matthew," She spoke crisply, "Why do you hold the blade like that?" She gave a walk around, a gentle toeing at his feet to nudge them about - squaring them with his shoulders, "Make your feet match your shoulder width, it makes the stance stronger. Anyway, why like that? It minimises blade range and reduces the offensive capability, correct?" At that point she paused, choosing her next few words carefully, "If it is a preference to hold it like that though, I shall not stop you."