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abhorrently) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-03-31 01:51 am
abhorrently) wrote in ph_logs2024-03-31 01:51 am
(open) and these thoughts are in my head
Who: Fever & open
What: Settling into the town in varied ways.
When: Second half of March/early part of April.
Where: Varied locations - see prompts.
Warning(s): Likely intrusive murder thoughts, others to be added should they arise.
work - town hall.
The newest clerk at Town Hall is a woman with a scar on her face and an eagerness to learn the system. Soon enough, she's figured things out, as if she'd been working there for months instead of the short time it really has been. Things flow easily, aided by both the strange item she'd retrieved from that one shop and what seems to be an innate understanding. But then again, if one can negotiate tactics midbattle, a job with paperwork and filing is practically nothing. So, if you need something, she's likely the one to dispense the forms or take them, working through the level of administration that all the new arrivals warranted.
Of course, it's not always business, and at the right time, someone might catch her at break, a novel from the library at hand and a dictionary close by as she needs to look up words. Some concepts and items are as of yet unknown to her, but she believes firmly with a bit of study, it can all be sorted.
training - "fight club."
When she joins the ranks of those sparring, talking her way into a day when the militia and the Enforcers are doing their training, it's really to satisfy her own desires for combat no matter what she tells them. Sure, she can go out in search of monsters, but that requires a companion and planning. This is more freeform, and fighting against someone else here lets her look at their capabilities. No magic to start with - best to be fair to all involved - and instead, Fever relies on a sturdier branch. Peter's not done with the staff yet, so this is the closest she can get. She fights with a clear joy in her movements, happy to test herself against anyone until either her opponent yields or someone outside calls the match.
That said, there are moments of downtime, where one has to catch their breath and drink water, where she's just leaning against the side observing or lightly applauding at the end of one spar. Catching a fighter's eye, they're offered an amused but restrained smile, and win, lose, or neither, it's clear something impressed her.
They're still never getting her to sign up with the Enforcers, though.
festival green - picnic.
Though she shies from the doll making, Fever can't deny the appeal of being able to picnic on the green, and waits until the event is over and dealt with before she takes her inspiration and heads outdoors. It's not perhaps the most ideal weather for it - clouds, the wind - but it's not so bad as to keep her from it. So here she is, with a simple lunch that's been ferried over and a blanket to sit on, trying to think about if she's ever done this before. Had reason to, really. But a passerby will interrupt her thoughts, and she'll raise her hand to get their attention.
"Does it seem like rain to you?"
Of course, there's enough room on the blanket for two, if you're feeling particularly sociable or are eyeing a free snack. Or, it can start to do as much as lightly rain, and she's not budging from where she is, considering it still fine weather.
wildcard.
Different idea? Throw it at me, I'm wide open for other scenarios. Will match the format of any tag-ins. Opt out post.
What: Settling into the town in varied ways.
When: Second half of March/early part of April.
Where: Varied locations - see prompts.
Warning(s): Likely intrusive murder thoughts, others to be added should they arise.
work - town hall.
The newest clerk at Town Hall is a woman with a scar on her face and an eagerness to learn the system. Soon enough, she's figured things out, as if she'd been working there for months instead of the short time it really has been. Things flow easily, aided by both the strange item she'd retrieved from that one shop and what seems to be an innate understanding. But then again, if one can negotiate tactics midbattle, a job with paperwork and filing is practically nothing. So, if you need something, she's likely the one to dispense the forms or take them, working through the level of administration that all the new arrivals warranted.
Of course, it's not always business, and at the right time, someone might catch her at break, a novel from the library at hand and a dictionary close by as she needs to look up words. Some concepts and items are as of yet unknown to her, but she believes firmly with a bit of study, it can all be sorted.
training - "fight club."
When she joins the ranks of those sparring, talking her way into a day when the militia and the Enforcers are doing their training, it's really to satisfy her own desires for combat no matter what she tells them. Sure, she can go out in search of monsters, but that requires a companion and planning. This is more freeform, and fighting against someone else here lets her look at their capabilities. No magic to start with - best to be fair to all involved - and instead, Fever relies on a sturdier branch. Peter's not done with the staff yet, so this is the closest she can get. She fights with a clear joy in her movements, happy to test herself against anyone until either her opponent yields or someone outside calls the match.
That said, there are moments of downtime, where one has to catch their breath and drink water, where she's just leaning against the side observing or lightly applauding at the end of one spar. Catching a fighter's eye, they're offered an amused but restrained smile, and win, lose, or neither, it's clear something impressed her.
They're still never getting her to sign up with the Enforcers, though.
festival green - picnic.
Though she shies from the doll making, Fever can't deny the appeal of being able to picnic on the green, and waits until the event is over and dealt with before she takes her inspiration and heads outdoors. It's not perhaps the most ideal weather for it - clouds, the wind - but it's not so bad as to keep her from it. So here she is, with a simple lunch that's been ferried over and a blanket to sit on, trying to think about if she's ever done this before. Had reason to, really. But a passerby will interrupt her thoughts, and she'll raise her hand to get their attention.
"Does it seem like rain to you?"
Of course, there's enough room on the blanket for two, if you're feeling particularly sociable or are eyeing a free snack. Or, it can start to do as much as lightly rain, and she's not budging from where she is, considering it still fine weather.
wildcard.
Different idea? Throw it at me, I'm wide open for other scenarios. Will match the format of any tag-ins. Opt out post.
no subject
That's most fair to her, and it'll be a fun challenge. She knows she can resist the innate reflexes to use the Weave, especially when she knows it's all in good sport and fun.
"Think of it like this - if they immediately jump to the worst they have, they must know they can't stand against you with less."
no subject
Magne rubs her hands together, briefly debating, then carefully pulling open the tie holding the collar of her shirt tight enough that it doesn't fall off her shoulders. She pulls the hem up from the waistband and then in a smooth motion, she pulls it off, then neatly folds it over to hang off the fence around the ring, preferring not to risk getting it dirty or damaged. It leaves her in a sheer chemise tucked into the high waist of her pants, and reveals the impressively built muscle of her upper body.
She gestures into the circle, before stepping in herself and standing with her hands on her hips and a pleasant smile on her face. "That's what I would like to think, at least. My reputation did often precede me, at home."
no subject
All thoughts like that aside, Fever takes a last sip from her water and puts it down before getting back in the ring. She's a fair sight slighter than Magne, but there's enough definition in her arms to say the quarterstaff she carries is a friend. A few of the others have turned their heads to watch, Fever can tell, and she can't blame them.
"Good. It's always nice to be properly estimated."
Fever's got no illusions on how she'll have to handle this match. Speed, but also refusing to give up. That'll be the only way to make a good showing.
no subject
Magne stretches idly as she walks around the ring, casually unclipping her cat-shaped knuckledusters from a loop on her pants, sliding them onto her hands and gripping them with an approving little sound. "Absolutely. It means a good fight rather than dealing with people thinking it's a foregone conclusion."
no subject
And for themselves. It's fun to push herself sometimes, knowing her magic is under the surface but holding it in rather than being denied it. Cute weapons, though, she'll have to ask to look at them later.
"Ready whenever you are."
no subject
"Fair warning love, I don't pull punches, so I expect you not to either."
And nearby, someone bangs against a bucket as the group of rubberneckers gathers around to witness the two of them. Magne's stance widens and stabilizes with her arms up in front of her. She crooks her finger to invite Fever to strike first.
roll: 2
There's a light in her eyes that has nothing to do with good will and everything to do with her launching off her feet to fly at Magne. She makes up for lacking the same strength in her blows with being quick, with aiming for critical and unguarded areas, the staff acting more as something directed than a club - there's swings, but also jabs, needing to think about its motions - though when a good blow hits the knuckledusters, sparks just might start flying.
And overeager as she is, she thinks she can slip under Magne's guard for a hard swing at her solar plexus. Wind her, she thinks, and gain the upper hand.
Pfff roll: 2
magne why did you get archived...
It's flashy, but not enough to trip her up, and Fever smoothly pulls back to reestablish space between them. Nice, very much so, and the grin on her features says as much - it'd dazzle the unaware and make them panic.
The dance resumes, bright and swift, and Fever feels that itch in her that asks to push more, push harder. At the least, not let up. Endurance has never been a problem for her.
"You always go for your fists, or ever anything else?"
It's good natured banter, while she's still trying, but also a subtle taunt - if she can still talk like this, are they doing enough?
no subject
"Unfortunately, here my fists have to be my primary weapon," she laments, even as she manages to skip lightly out of range, and then back in again to swing a heavy fist into the general vicinity of Fever's core. "Normally I wound swing something around as big as you are!"
no subject
"That's incredible!"
She might have said more, if the fist didn't connect and knock her back. Taking the blow, she braces and falls back into a more defensive posture, resisting all urges to lash out with magic in return. Just barely avoided being winded, but it's still going to be felt every time she takes a breath. Good. This is what she was hoping for.
Fine. Back to the art of it, seen and met. She's pushing herself, and it feels great, fun. All the energy in her body put to a purpose, and delighting in it. She's not aggressively trying to win, but to match Magne instead, so that when either of them do lash out, she's got a better chance at dodging. It's different from shields, from working to block, but it's been overdue to train.
no subject
"When I became part of a group," she explains between jabs, "they went out of their way to find me a proper weapon so I wouldn't have to grab one of them to use as a polarized end. Before then I had used a garage magnet that was even heavier, so when they gave me the new one, it was like twirling a baton."
no subject
Ugh, that was her own fault for letting her guard slip.
"One can hope."
Like a fully metal staff, now that she thinks about it. But if she dwells too hard on the logistics, she won't be able to fight properly - she's already multitasking enough, including keeping her instincts down. If she's a little more flashy with reorienting herself, it's because she knows it looks good.
no subject
roll: 13
Likewise she can't think too hard on the potential of future weapons when they're in the middle of a bout. Still, she's enjoying talking back and forth in the midst of sparring, and though she's starting to sweat with the exertion, she's still barely breathing hard as she keeps every movement as economical as possible in between those little flashes of showmanship.
"I talked with my Cesar about the possibility of getting some really powerful magnets through the shady little man in his shop, we'll just have to browbeat him into finding them."
no subject
"Tell him if he can't find them, he's volunteering to be your new weapon himself!"
Their blows connect, and Fever feels her arms shake - there's sweat on her forehead, but her eyes are still bright, pushing herself onwards. If she was smart, she'd call it. But as Fever herself has been known to say, she's not smart. She needs to be stopped, or she won't call it - or Magne does. This much is clear.
"That'll get him looking a little harder."
no subject
"Yield to go get some water?" The smile is teasing, but they've both worked themselves and each other pretty hard by now. They need to break for a drink some time soon.
no subject
then she breathes, and remembers herself, and the fervent brightness in her eyes dulls and the smile is less sharp. Concentrate.
"Yeah. That'd be great, actually."
Pulling her staff back, she lowers it and extends her hand for a friendly shake.
no subject
The tension releases, and then so does she, her knuckles unlocking and releasing the staff to be taken back.
With an easy smile, Magne takes the hand to shake. "Good showing. I'm looking forward to doing this again for sure. Maybe we can make a regular thing out of it?"