Reno of the Turks (
raspberryturk) wrote2008-01-09 01:05 am
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The Preserve, Late Wednesday Morning
Well, this place certainly wasn't devoid of trees, was it?
Reno wasn't entirely unimpressed by the meeting place that he and Rikku had decided on for their little sparring match. Plenty of things to trip over and be thrown into, which would make things interesting.
That is, if the crazy girl with the unique fashion sense didn't chicken out and stand him up.
[[OOC: For Rikku, please!]]
Reno wasn't entirely unimpressed by the meeting place that he and Rikku had decided on for their little sparring match. Plenty of things to trip over and be thrown into, which would make things interesting.
That is, if the crazy girl with the unique fashion sense didn't chicken out and stand him up.
[[OOC: For Rikku, please!]]
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... Ew.
"Decent amount, maybe, but you left some on that tree," she observed, pulling her hands up again. "And first's blood's not the same --"
Right there, mid-sentence, was a good time to hop forward. Bring both arms to her right, see if she could get his right arm out of the way with an upward diagonal slash of her left elbow. She usually did this when facing someone, but the right cross that followed it up might do nicely aimed straight at his mouth.
"-- As victory," she panted.
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Her speed, after all, was what allowed her to get a pretty clean shot at his mouth, a shot which would have knocked a few teeth clean from his head if he hadn't clenched his jaw and turned his head when he had realized that it was coming. Being cocky was going to be slightly more challenging around a split lip, but he was Reno of the Turks. He'd manage.
"I'd hardly call a bleeding lip a victory," he mused as he spat out a gob of blood and saliva before spinning on his heel and trying to kick her legs out from underneath her before she could pull herself back into that cute little crouch of hers.
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... Ooof.
She punted the bottom of her foot out, hard, for the side of the knee he was still standing on.
"Never said I did," she said, rolling back a little so she could spring up onto her feet.
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Sadly, neither was the case, and the Turk found himself greeting the ground with a good, solid thump, before rolling over and hauling himself back to his feet.
Which would have worked better if his knee had been meant to bend that way in the first place. He stooped a little as his leg threatened to give out underneath him all on its own, shifting his weight to the one that hadn't just been cracked from the side. Damn, standing hurt.
And there she was, rolled away, and out of the range of his fists.
"You got a good foot on you, anyhow."
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"Thanks," she said, staying low. Not moving. Waiting to see if he'd make the next move. "... Your knee okay?"
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Just because he was doing less slouching and more lopsided leaning than usual? Really. Whatever gave her the notion that his knee wasn't up to par?
He was actually torn for a moment between attempting to put his weight on it, or continuing to stand back until she made a move. Because he wasn't going to be the one to step down, here. Long-cultivated stubbornness at its finest.
It hurt, but he'd had worse. A friendly sparring match wasn't any reason to get himself more messed up. He was a Turk. Only idiots got themselves messed up beyond repair if they didn't have to. What a stupid move, leaving himself open like that! ... Not that he ever really bothered to get into a guarded stance in the first place.
"You wanna come over here so I can punch you some more?" His tone wasn't entirely joking.
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If he was okay enough to be a stubborn bastard, then he was okay enough to taunt. Uh. She hoped so, anyway.
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His next move, pulling himself up so that he was standing normally again, wasn't the nicest feeling he'd ever had, but at least he'd managed to gather his dignity again.
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Which was pretty cruel, all things considered, but hey, he'd started the smack-talk. He could deal.
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Not quite as stupid as his next move, which consisted of about one and a half solid, angry steps, which quickly buckled and gave way into a stumble, a few muttered swear words, and then a grumpy shuffle.
"Yeah," he spat again, "then I don't have to walk on that knee, yo."
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"Wanna call this a day before one of us cracks the other's skull? I can't go to Cheer with a concussion."
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"If I'm remembering right, I think you started this by cracking my skull, yo." Maybe that was the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. "Even so, wouldn't want to return the favor and risk a single boom-rah-rah. Squad's countin' on you and all."
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Now was probably not a good time to mention that she couldn't remember if they were starting practices this week or next, anyway.
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He opened the vial, held it up and tilted it a little, sort of a toast to a morning well wasted.
"Bottoms up, yo."
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"How come you're wearing a suit, anyway?"
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"Uniform." He gave a shrug of his shoulders and left it at that.
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So, instead, he shrugged his shoulders dismissively, bending at the knees a few times to make sure everything was in proper working order again.
"The job."
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"Packed light, yo."
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See? She was getting the hang of it.
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