Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 10, 2021 2:26:46 GMT -5
“I’m not sure anyone can ever be perfect at something,” Orpheus replied with a small shrug, his gaze meeting L’s. “I guess… it’s something that you can try really hard to be, but there’s always room for improvement. I think I heard someone say once that there’s always someone better than you, and at first I thought that was really demoralizing, but… but then I realized it’s something of a challenge. You have to keep working and working to be better, otherwise you won’t improve. And if you believe that you’re perfect, or if you believe that there’s such a thing as perfect that you can be, you stagnate. Or… at least I do. I don’t know. Perfect is a loaded concept.”
Orpheus wasn’t usually one to ramble, but there was something about L that seemed to bring it out in him. Perhaps it was just that there were very few people who were even willing to listen to Orpheus go off on tangents like this, and L listening was a unique opportunity to just… speak his mind.
“I’ve never found it very easy to do the things I hate, even if there is a reward associated with it,” Orpheus admitted with a small shrug. “I mean… I’ve gotten better at school, because that’s what school teaches you to do, but my improvement in school isn’t as marked as my improvement in music. I’m passionate about learning music, but not super passionate about learning math and science and all that. It’s interesting, but I just… feel like I haven’t improved in my ability to learn. Much. Which… isn’t to say I hate school, just that… well, it’s harder to improve at than music is, because I’m not very motivated.”
He shook his head, feeling his thoughts about to get tangled together. He figured it was best to stop now, when his thoughts still made sense. Eventually the knotted thoughts in the back of his mind would make sense. That was part of what the music – the poetry – was for. For now, though, he would much rather focus on the lyre.
“A hundred dollars?” Orpheus asked, raising an eyebrow. “The violin I just put away was worth $3000.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 10, 2021 2:34:03 GMT -5
Zuko was ready for this. He shifted his weight back and forth as well, a wild grin spreading across his face as he prepared to face his opponent. It was clear just from the way Sal held the epee that he was good at this… he had clearly been practicing for a long time. It was odd, Zuko thought, that he wasn’t on the team. It was also odd that Sam had backed out. Thinking of the kid who had called in sick the day Zuko was supposed to spar with them, he honestly wasn’t surprised. He didn’t know what made the kid so afraid of him, though. Was it his skill? It was possible, but fencing didn’t really hurt that much, even when you were trounced. Was it his reputation? He wasn’t fully aware of what his reputation was, so he couldn’t count that or rule it out.
One. Zuko took a deep breath, making sure his sword was nicely weighted and his weight was spread across both feet. He could move easily and nimbly, probably faster than his opponent expected. And he was good at leaping out of the way, he was good at unexpected attacks.
Two. His opponent was clearly studied. There as something almost too casual about the way Sal held the epee, the way he wore the uniform. Like he wasn’t expecting to actually have to try. A thin smile curved Zuko’s lips. Sal was going to be proven wrong.
Three. Zuko attacked first. Three sharp jabs, quick and to the point. He wanted to see how Sal reacted. Wanted to gauge the kid’s style based on evasion technique. Wanted to decide which strategy to use on Sal… there were several possibilities.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 10, 2021 11:16:52 GMT -5
This was not going to be an easy fight, Sal decided, though he’d already known that. Zuko’s reputation preceded him. Sal had never actually seen him fight - he should have asked Sam what sort of strategy he has, oh well, he’d soon find out - but he knew he was good. Maybe even better than Sal was. Maybe.
He couldn’t see Zuko’s face. But he wasn’t focused on it, anyway. It was his body language that Sal watched, the way he stood, the stance he displayed, where he held his tension. These were the things that would help Sal win this. A face would have been a distraction.
One. Sal was ready, he decided suddenly. He didn’t know how he’d made that decision or why, he just knew it was true. His epee was steady in his hand, a familiar weight. His feet knew how to position themselves. He hadn’t lost his skills. He felt like he’d done this yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.
Two. Zuko was equally prepared. He knew how to do this, he was as good as they said he was. This wasn’t going to be an easy win by any means. He kept his stance casual, and tried his best to make himself look almost bored. If he could just pull this off…
Three.
The strikes were fast, and they almost had Sal, but muscle memory kicked in and he parried each one just as fast, scooting forward into to try and force Zuko backwards, giving one, two, three, four different strikes to try and cut through his defenses. He was on guard, but he was also on the offensive, and he was trying to make Zuko he the one forced to defend.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 10, 2021 20:47:31 GMT -5
Zuko enjoyed being challenged. He had fought so hard for everything he had that he had eventually learned to enjoy the struggle. At least… when it came to fencing. He didn’t really enjoy schoolwork, didn’t really enjoy struggling and struggling and still always being in Azula’s shadow. He didn’t enjoy the constant comments from teachers saying that if he just “applied himself” he would do better. They didn’t’ seem to understand that he was applying himself. He tried to do the work, tried to understand the concepts, but it wasn’t that simple. There were things he just didn’t get, and the teachers didn’t teach to the people who needed the most help. They taught to the average kid, and, in some cases, the smart kids who likely could figure it out on their own. Kids like Zuko slipped through the cracks, and the teachers didn’t know what to do with them.
The thoughts left his head and he found himself focusing entirely on Sal and the match in front of him. He moved back, careful not to give up too much ground as he parried the strikes, cursing softly as one of the four made contact. His eyes narrowed beneath the mask and he pushed himself back forward, aiming a series of strikes at Sal. Feinting left before striking at his shoulder, swooping down to attack the elbow and the knee, places that would be harder to defend. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t going to make this easy on Sal. He didn’t want Sal to go easy on him, so he figured he might as well fight his hardest. Sal had proven himself already to be a worthy opponent. Good. Zuko hated losing, but he loved a good fight. He didn’t feel nearly as bad about losing as long as he gave his opponent a run for their money.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 10, 2021 21:14:52 GMT -5
Sal was fairly average at school. He wasn’t amazing - he knew there were kids who were basically geniuses - but he wasn’t bad, either. Not the best, still pretty good. He wasn’t failing, at least.
He tried but school wasn’t the biggest concern he had. He wanted...something. He felt a little out of place, or maybe a lot out of place. Trapped, almost. It wasn’t like he ditched class all the time and never did his homework, but if he sometimes could be found on a roof during English, who could hold it against him?
The teachers liked him okay. Which meant they only noticed his existence because he wore a prosthetic face. And maybe because of his bright hair.
But he wasn’t thinking of any of that now. The rest of the world faded; there were two people in the universe and a strip of hard floor between them. You left the ring, you didn’t exist anymore. He was focused, concentrating, every time he’d ever done this before aiding his movements, his mind purely present.
The first strike landed, but Sal didn’t pay it any attention. Any moment that was not now didn’t matter. He parried the rest, dodging back, his movements choppy and quick, reactions more than decisions.
Sam had been right. It really was just like riding a bike.
Counterattack. Sal parried the strike at his knee and attacked, the point of his epee aimed at Zuko’s lower leg, then dodged back in preparation for his counterattack, defenses raised high.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 10, 2021 21:29:25 GMT -5
Zuko was pleased as the first strike hit – it meant they were even – but he didn’t have too much time to think about it. There was no room for thought in fencing. Perhaps that was what he liked about it so much. You had to constantly be acting and reacting, constantly trying to get the jump on your opponent, trying to outthink them, because the sport was as much mental as it was physical. Okay, so… maybe there was a lot of thinking involved, but it was thinking to the future. It was making split second decisions that you could act on immediately. There was no time to reflect on things that had happened in the past, no time to judge yourself based on your own movements. No time for regret. If you stopped to regret a strike that went bad, or to get angry about a hit, you were going to get hit several more times. Zuko had tried running. He hated it – there was just… too much reflection time. He didn’t like to be alone with his own thoughts. They were bullies, just lime Azula tended to be. Only they didn’t leave him when he went home.
He was thinking too much. He purged the thoughts from his mind as he parried Sal’s blow, breathing hard as he thrust the epee forward, aiming for Sal’s torso. It was a risky hit, but a pointed one. If he could get an attack like that in, then Sal wasn’t as good as he seemed. He was still in the stages of learning Sal’s style, learning how the other boy fought. If he lost the first round, it wasn’t a big deal… though he wasn’t planning on letting Sal get ahead even that much.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 10, 2021 22:03:39 GMT -5
This was why Sal liked fencing above almost every other sport. There was thought, it wasn’t a completely mindless activity (no activities were mindless for Sal, it was just a matter of whether he had something he was meant to think about or not) but wasn’t something you could overthink. You acted, you reacted, you didn’t think about what had already happened more than you had to to learn from it. He could figure out Zuko’s strategy, he couldn’t think about wishing he had blocked that strike. It was incredibly freeing.
He blocked the attack, leaning into it in an attempt to throw Zuko off balance, his own epee coming up fast and jabbing at the shoulder, then the shoulder again, then again, three quick strikes. He was hoping Zuko would block the strike once and not realize he was going for it again, or maybe that he’d think one attack was a feint. It was a bit of a test of his own.
Zuko was fierce, direct, skilled. He clearly knew had he was doing here, Sal couldn’t deny that he was good at this, very good at it. He had to respect that a little bit, even if he was pretty sure he didn’t like Zuko much at all.
He wanted to win the first round, he decided suddenly. He needed to show Zuko that he wasn’t unbeatable. He needed to show Sam’s team that, too. And maybe a smal part of his soul wanted to win because he wanted to win against a bully for once in his life.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 10, 2021 22:14:54 GMT -5
There was no denying it now, Sal was good. He clearly knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t put off by Zuko’s direct, forceful attacks. It didn’t seem like his style was particularly flowery either, which was good… it meant he was efficient with his energy, and it meant he had practiced long enough that he didn’t need showy moves to impress the spectators. This wasn’t about the spectators. It was about the two of them, boy against boy, epees flashing as they moved quickly enough that someone who wasn’t familiar with the sport wouldn’t be able to follow their actions. It was refreshing.
That said, it was also difficult. Sal’s second strike hit, not because Zuko hadn’t anticipated it, but because he wasn’t quick enough to block both. It was a good move, one that Zuko would have to incorporate into his own fighting in the future. He would have to ask Sal how he did it when they were done… he had a feeling they both might have something to learn from each other. He moved forward, trying to get to the side of Sal to throw him off balance and get a few strikes in. He aimed first at his collarbone, then dropped the sword down to the top of his hip, hoping to keep Sal moving (and guessing). He didn’t want the other boy to read his strategy that easily.
This fight… it was just a spar. There was nothing Zuko had to do to prove himself here, at least… not yet. So he was enjoying it, enjoying the fight, the sharp gasps that meant he was trying to get enough air into his lungs, the feeling of being in constant motion, acting and reacting and acting again, because in his mind the best way to win was to play both offense and defense.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 10, 2021 22:45:23 GMT -5
They seemed to be fairly well matched. Sal wasn’t messing around, though he tried not to look like this was pushing him too hard. It wouldn’t be as much of a win if he seemed utterly exhausted by it. He knew that Sam had asked him to do this out of desperation, but he figured he could at lead help his team a little, couldn’t he?
And he really did want to win against a bully. He thought that would probably feel very, very good.
He was enjoying this, he was forced to admit to himself. He was enjoying the feeling of being good at something, actually good at it. Good enough to beat the best the others had to offer, at least.
He didn’t let himself feel anything over the hit, didn’t let himself get cocky. It was good, but he couldn’t let himself think about it, or he’d get off balance, and that would be good.
If he’d known what Zuko was thinking, he’d have been startled. It wouldn’t have fit at all with how he thought of the other boy. He’d never met him, it wasn’t fair to judge him too harshly just yet, but he knew Azula and he knew that she didn’t let nice people into her in group. Was it really a stretch of the imagination to guess that Zuko might not be a friendly, open person?
But he didn’t know, so it didn’t matter.
He turned as Zuko attacked again, trying to stay on backs and cursing his prosthetic eye for being unable to see. He was a little disoriented, and he turned, trying to keep Zuko where he could see him. He knew he probably looked a little off balance, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t doubt it would be taken advantage of, unless he could fix it fast enough.
He felt the sword come close, but he managed to evade both attacks, barely. He didn’t like how close that had been, and he stepped back a little to give himself a moment before he moved forward and aimed a hard strike at Zuko’s knee, hoping tl catch him off guard.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 10, 2021 23:32:52 GMT -5
Zuko’s eyes narrowed a little bit as he caught onto Sal’s slight loss of balance. Was it that side? Was there a weakness there, or was Zuko reading into it? He knew he had his own weaknesses on his left… though Sal wouldn’t know that yet. That was the nice thing about the masks. They covered any hint that Zuko wasn’t perfectly normal, any hint that he couldn’t hear out of his left ear, any hint that his left eye wasn’t as functional as most peoples were. It also meant that Sal didn’t know where to target yet. Zuko would have to try targeting Sal’s right again… maybe it was just a fluke, but the only thing that seemed to unbalance Sal was a barrage of attacks on that side. Zuko tucked that information away for later.
He wasn’t going to let the advantage slip him by, however. He struck forward, eyes narrowing as he aimed two quick strikes at Sal’s right side, trying to keep him off balance. He missed Sal’s strike at his knee, however, and he cursed softly. The strike caused him to lose balance and he felt his arms windmill to catch him, sword glancing off of Sal’s mask. He took a deep breath, stumbling back a few steps to try to put a little bit of distance between them. He heard the whistle blow, but he wasn’t sure if they were saying the three minutes were up, or if they were calling him out for accidentally hitting Sal’s mask. It wasn’t as against the rules with the epee as it was for the other swords, but face strikes were still heavily frowned against. It wasn’t technically a strike at the face, though, so it shouldn’t be counted against him. He glanced up, letting his sword drift to his side as he waited to see what both the ref and Sal had to say. It had been a good match, Zuko just hadn’t been prepared for the strike to the knee. He didn’t know who was winning. He thought Sal had gotten one touch over him, but he wasn’t sure. He supposed it depended on if the accidental face strike counted against him or not.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 11, 2021 17:47:36 GMT -5
Zuko was going to catch on, Sal knew, even if he covered up his mistake. He was good, and he was paying attention. Which meant Sal needed to be ready for him to take advantage of it, and fast.
He was grateful that there was a chance Zuko didn’t recognize him. If the didn’t know how he was, he wouldn’t know he wore a prosthetic, and he wouldn’t guess there was anything wrong with his vision, probably. Unless he’d already figured that much out. Which was more possible than Sal wanted to think it was.
He was forced back again as Zuko attacked his right, and he defended as best he could, cursing internally. Obviously, Zuko had picked up on it, then. Well...he’d jusr half to find Zuko’s weakness and turn the tables, wouldn’t he?
At least his strike hit home. He caught his balance and leaned forward as Zuko fell back, then flinched as he felt the sword hit his mask. That wasn’t a legal move, he knew. Had they seen it? He couldn’t tell whether or not it was a mistake, he didn’t know whether Zuko had intended to do that.
He lowered his own sword as he heard the whistle, looking up at the ref, then Zuko. It had been a good match...he thought he’d come out on top, but he wasn’t sure...it was hard to tell when he was in the fight. He wasn’t as out of breath as he’d expected to be, though. He was good to keep going.
The ref waved in their general direction. “Penalty for Zuko. Sal three, Zuko two.”
Ha, a tiny part of Sal murmured triumphantly. Would you look at that? I can do this.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 12, 2021 1:12:46 GMT -5
“Penalty?” Zuko demanded, eyes wide as he stared at the ref. Of course neither he nor Sal could see his disbelief, but it was there, coating his voice as well as his expression. “For what?” He crossed his arms, careful not to let the epee drag on the floor at all. That was a penalty, and he didn’t want another one for something stupid like that. He had been fencing for long enough that he knew how to behave in the arena.
“This is the epee,” he added, stepping a little bit away from Sal and towards the ref instead. He was careful not to turn his back to his opponent. Another stupid reason to earn a penalty. There were a lot of rules, but it had been a long time since Zuko had broken any of them, even accidentally. “The face is a valid touch. We should be three-three, the tip of the epee hit his mask and didn’t destroy it.” It hadn’t been the classiest or most grateful hit he had ever made, but a hit was a hit. It would make this first match a tie… which would add to the tension of the latter two. It was exciting, though annoying because of the penalty. It was just a warning now, but he wanted to know what the ref thought he had nailed him on.
“Unless…” Zuko mentally scrolled through the rule the book had listed, his eyes widening again as his mind caught on one. “Did you card me for brutality? Because face touches are legal, and I didn’t attack with any more force than I normally do. If you want to tell me it was bad fencing, fine. I agree. But it wasn’t against your rules.” His voice had grown into something like a growl.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 12, 2021 1:55:33 GMT -5
Penalty?
Sal looked up at the ref, startled. He didn’t see what Zuko had done to deserve a penalty...the face touch had been perfectly legal. Maybe it hadn’t been the most graceful move he’d ever seen, but this wasn’t all about grace. It had been a touch, and a touch was a touch, as far as he was concerned.
They both knew the rules by heart, that much was clear. He didn’t think Zuko would have been careless enough to break one, and he didn’t think he’d have missed it if he had. The ref had seen something, clearly, but Sal had no idea what it might be.
Besides, a tie in the first match? He would enjoy that. It would be fun to see how that panned out.
If the ref had made a bad call, he wanted to know about it. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the match.
“Brutality?” He repeated, startled as Zuko made the connection. He stared at the ref, his expression hidden, but how voice a little bit sharp. “That was barely a touch, how was that brutality?
The ref frowned, looking at the two of them. They looked a bit surprised that Sal had spoken up, too, as if they hadn’t expected both parties to complain. “It was a hard strike,” they replied, crossing their arms.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 13, 2021 1:36:42 GMT -5
Zuko blinked, eyes wide as Sal spoke up. He hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t so much that he had expected Sal to lack honor, it was just that… most opponents would let the call slide because technically it was just a yellow card. It didn’t impact anything, and Sal wasn’t awarded an extra hit because of it, but… it would mean that Sal won the match anyway if he just let the call go. Zuko might have been annoyed, sure, but… that was how this went, most of the time. Most people didn’t think about sportsmanship as much as they thought about winning. The fact that Sal had been willing to stand up for him…
“No harder than any other strike either of us made,” Zuko protested, but his gaze was locked on Sal. “If you agree, Fisher. You were at the receiving end of the hit. If it hurt…” Zuko trailed off before he could finish the thought. He knew full well that it hadn’t hurt, at least not enough to stop the match. Sal could get red carded for feigning an injury, but the ref seemed to already be on his side. There would be no consequences for him if he were to pretend that it hurt. Somehow, Zuko was intrigued to see what he would do in that situation. Round one was not a guarantee of a win. But with round one under your belt… well, you had a certain confidence boost. Zuko would much prefer they tie. It meant there was more to work on, more to learn from his opponent. Which was more exciting than he had the words for.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 13, 2021 1:47:55 GMT -5
L wasn’t at all sure he liked the idea of perfection being impossible. If he could never achieve perfection, what was the point? He wanted to be perfect...he didn’t like to think that he never could be. Was Orpheus right? Was believing yourself perfect a bad thing? Was it impossible to achieve perfect results? He wanted to get to the point where he’d done the absolute best he could do, not forever fall short.
“I don’t know. If you can’t do it perfectly, what’s the point in trying?” He asked doubtfully, scanning Orpheus’ features. He liked listening to him talk, he just...didn’t think he agreed. Or maybe he just didn’t want to agree. He didn’t like the concept at all, he couldn’t see how it was a challenge to be told you’d never quite succeed.
He could understand not improving at things you didn’t like, though. He struggled with that too. Well...most of the time he didn’t try if he wasn’t interested, but even when he did, it wasn’t like it was easy.
“I hate school,” he replied without thinking. It wasn’t because of the classes, though. He would have found acopl merely a nuisance if there had been kids for watch out for, kids who hated him for nebulous reasons. He thought Azula was jealous, but he couldn’t be sure he was right, because she’d never admit it if she was.
His thoughts were brought abruptly back as Orpheus continued, “$3000?” He demanded, his voice raising an entire octave. “For a violin? Why? It’s just...wood...and strings...why would you pay that much for a violin? Couldn’t you get a cheaper one? I didn’t think anything except spaceships were that expensive.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 13, 2021 2:39:30 GMT -5
Orpheus just didn’t see the point in perfection. You could always be better. The note you held out could always end sweeter, you could always fix the transition at the chord change, you could get the harmony right away… if you decided you were perfect, then you stopped growing. Orpheus believed that firmly… he wanted to keep growing and improving, and though he had been told in the past that his performances were perfect, he had always searched for the flaws so he could learn from them and get better. He was striving, perhaps, for a goal he believed was impossible to achieve. He was never going to be perfect, but he would keep improving himself until he became the closest to perfect he could get before dying. It was… what was that one math problem, where the line got closer and closer to zero but never quite touched it? Asymptote?
“I guess… we try to improve, so we can get closer to perfect next time. But I don’t think there is an actual perfect, because once you achieved perfect there’s nowhere to go but down. But if perfect is always just barely unattainable, then you can improve at the things you care about for the rest of your life.” Orpheus shrugged, shooting L a small smile. This was a more interesting conversation than he expected to have. He thought he might like conversing with L.
“Wait,” Orpheus murmured, eyes widening. “You hate school?” he asked, taking a tiny step forward. “But… you’re the top of our class. You’re literally the smartest person in our grade… how can you not enjoy school?” Orpheus wasn’t considering how lucky he was to avoid the bullies by staying in the music rooms. Azula didn’t care much for music, and neither did anyone else mean.
“It’s not just wood and strings,” he added, glancing in the direction of the violin. “You can buy less expensive ones, but… hold on,” he said, disappearing back into the locker area and returning with two violins. “I can show you why people buy the more expensive ones, if you have a minute.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 13, 2021 2:47:21 GMT -5
Sal could have let it slide. He could have just let the referee make the call and take it as luck being on his side, and no one would take that from him, no one could even blame him, because technically the referee was the one who was supposed to make those sorts of calls, whether Sal and Zuko agreed or not.
But it bothered him. He didn’t like the thought that the ref just didn’t like Zuko or something...he didn’t know if he liked Zuko much either, but he wasn’t going to be unfair about it. This just felt wrong and he wasn’t going to let it slide.
He looked at Zuko, fully aware that neither of them could meet their other’s eye. Maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t know how intense Zuko’s expression was, but he had something of a guess, with how hard he seemed to be focused on Sal.
“It didn’t hurt,” he said firmly, not looking away. If Zuko thought he was just going to take the advantage…
“It was a legal hit. It should be three three. I don’t need an unfair advantage to win this, and I really don’t want one, either. Okay? We both agree on this.”
He didn’t even need his prosthetic to be visible to get some special treatment, it seemed. Well...he didn’t want it. He wanted to be able to say he won this fairly, no favoritism. What was a win worth if it was just handed to you? It wouldn’t prove anything if he didn’t have to do this by the rules.
The ref looked uncomfortable, like they hadn’t expected this at all. After a moment, they shrugged, shaking their head a little. “Fine. Sal three, Zuko three. Happy?”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 14, 2021 1:46:12 GMT -5
Zuko couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face as the ref conceded eventually, falling to him and Sal. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. The first round was a tie, which was more than okay with Zuko. He could win this… perhaps not as easily as he could’ve won a fight against Sam, but a win was a win.
The second bout started quickly, Zuko getting into position before lunging forward as soon as the ref blew the whistle. This was going to be a real fight… the first match had just been the two of them testing each other. Zuko knew the most direct way to win was to keep targeting Sal’s right side, but where was the fun in that? Normally he was direct. Normally he got a fight over as quickly as possible, because he had something to prove. He didn’t think he had anything to prove here. He just had a boy he wanted to beat… well, that wasn’t quite accurate. He had a boy he wanted to fight, because Sal was very clearly skilled. Winning would just be an added bonus.
“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath, striking forward at the base of Sal’s collarbone. The words were quiet, obviously meant only for Sal, not the ref or the small crowd that had taken interest in their game.
“This way, when I win, we’ll both come out of it feeling good about ourselves.” There was something light in his tone that betrayed the intensity of his movements. He was enjoying this fight. He wasn’t as confident in his win as his words would imply. And he did mean the second part genuinely – if Zuko were to win, then Sal would surely earn some sort of trophy for best sportsmanship. If he didn’t, then Zuko was just going to have to make him one out of craft sticks and hot glue. It wouldn’t be nice, but wasn’t it the thought that counted?
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 15, 2021 15:15:58 GMT -5
Sal didn’t know why the ref had tried to card Zuko for a legal strike, but he didn’t like it. Did it mean they would be trying to card him unfairly for the rest of the game, too? Sal didn’t want that...he didn’t like the idea of an unfair advantage, he didn’t need it to win. He didn’t want Zuko thinking he’d only one because he’d been cheating or the ref had been on his side, either. That wouldn’t prove anything at all. He hoped the ref backed off on this…
He moved, barely avoiding the strike as Zuko attacked, trying unsuccessfully not to let it force him back at all. He exhaled sharply and leaned into his own attack, striking once at Zuko’s right, then his left, then his right again. He was trying to throw him off balance, trying to force him backwards as much as possible,
This was actually fun. Sal hadn’t expected it to be fun, really, but now...he was glad he’d agreed to this. He had missed it, he realized suddenly, more than he’d thought he had.
“Ha,” he replied just as quietly, but there was no venom to the word. He could sense Zuko was enjoying this, too. Good for him. Sal didn’t want to be the only one having fun.
He lunged forward, striking again, a quick attack aimed at Zuko’s left ribs. He was going to win this round, he promised himself, and the next one, too. He was going to win this thing.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 15, 2021 16:17:00 GMT -5
Zuko was doing his absolute best not to let Sal know about the weakness on his left side. He had done everything in his power to train himself not to be weaker on that side, but the lost hearing in his left ear made a difference that he couldn’t entirely compensate for. He was more adept at avoiding the strikes to his right – the one to his left pushed him back a little bit, though he managed not to let it hit him. It was a pity that each bout only lasted for three minutes. It was a pity that their first bout had been cut rather short by the unjust carding. Zuko had a feeling he knew why it had happened, but he wasn’t going to give voice to the thought just yet. He didn’t need to be thinking of Azula when he had a match to win.
The others on his team were skilled fighters, for the most part. Zuko had to concede that, though he had beaten them all. He had also been beaten by some of them, the first time he had tried to fight them. But this… well, Sal was phenomenal. Had he transferred from another school? Why had he not joined the team?
Zuko struck forward, aiming at the right side of Sal’s chest. He wanted to ask him why he hadn’t participated in any tournaments before this. It had been a long time since Zuko had fought someone like this, where every move was just… fun. Difficult, of course, and challenging to predict, but fun.
There was little room for talking, however, when Zuko was concentrating. And he knew that if he wanted to win this, he was going to have to give it his full attention.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 15, 2021 16:54:57 GMT -5
Zuko was better at masking the weakness on his side, probably because he’d practiced more recently. Sal hadn’t been working on it lately, he hadn’t been trying to figure out how to make sure he couldn’t be found out, he hadn’t been hiding it...that was the thing about sticking out. He didn’t have a choice in the matter. He couldn’t not wear a prosthetic, and even if he could, he would stick out anyway because of his scars. There was no winning, so he just rolled with it, and leaned not to let it get to him, it was what it was, he didn’t need to worry about it.
Maybe they’d talk after this. Maybe Zuko would turn out to be a nice person after all, and they could chat. He didn’t know anything about him, but he didn’t know much about anyone here to be fair...he didn’t want to make assumptions. He knew first hand how little good that did.
Zuko was good. Not just that...he was excellent. Sal didn’t know that he’d ever fought someone with this style before. Or, he hadn’t, because it was Zuko’s, but he hadn’t fought anyone this skilled before, he didn’t think.
He fended off the attack, then struck forward, attacking Zuko’s lower leg first, then his shoulder twice, his movements as fast and smooth as he could make them. There was no time for talking, barely any time to think. He wanted to win this, but he wanted it to last at the same time...it was actually fun.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 15, 2021 17:01:28 GMT -5
Zuko could hide the weakness in fencing, even if he could never hide the scar. He had never thought seriously about hiding it. He had tried makeup over it, once, but it was hot and sticky and he hated the feeling of it on his face. And he hadn’t actually known that prosthetic faces were an option. For him, they probably weren’t. The scar only impacted his eye and his ear – the rest of his face was fine. The point was that he didn’t want people to think they could take advantage of his left side just because he had a scar there. Just because he couldn’t hear out of the ear. Just because his vision was blurry in that eye, like it had never quite healed properly. He couldn’t hide the injury, but he could pretend that it didn’t impact him.
He staggered back just a little bit, managing to parry all three of Sal’s blows. Zuko had been right to assume that Sal was quick. He was small, which usually meant lithe and fast on your feet, but it was a different beast with Sal. He didn’t seem to fall into many of the fallacies other fast fencers did – he had found ways to compensate for them.
There was something about this match that was more exciting than Zuko had words for. He danced forward, his movements deliberate as he struck for Sal’s shoulder, then aimed a strike at his knee. He could try to get around him, attack from the right side, but that didn’t quite seem fair – they were on even footing for now, and Zuko wanted to relish that as much as possible. It was beautiful, in a way, that neither of them had managed to get a touch in yet for this round.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 15, 2021 17:29:11 GMT -5
For Sal, his face had been mostly destroyed. He hadn’t been able to salvage most of it, he had enough scars that they overlapped and became one big one, almost. It wasn’t like a prosthetic face was the best option for most people, probably...he didn’t know. He wouldn’t have discouraged it, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if no one else wanted to wear one. It wouldn’t have helped with his vision or his hearing, either, as Sal could attest. Still, it worked for him.
Somehow, every time Zuko parried a blow, Sal was all the more motivated to strike again. Zuko just kept proving how good at this he was, proving again and again that he knew what he was doing. Sal had practiced a lot, and even he was having a hard time actually winning this thing. He wasn’t as confident as he pretended to be, even if it had come back to him fast, even if he was as good as he remembered being. This was...this was something he thought he might want to do again, at some point.
He dodged back, cursing as the strike hit his knee, dodging the one at his shoulder and striking forward at Zuko’s arm, his gaze determined. If he lost this, the best he as going to get was a tie. He didn’t really want a tie, he wanted to win this thing, fairly. He knew Zuko wanted that, too. If they did have a tie...they’d have to do another round.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 15, 2021 17:36:12 GMT -5
There was something about fencing that felt more like being alive than anything else did. Here, he didn’t have to worry about Azula upstaging him. He didn’t have to worry about not being the right gender for it, because technically they had done away with teams segregated by gender a long time ago. There was nothing he had to worry about here other than what moves Sal was going to make and how Zuko was going to respond to them. There was only parries and strikes, the strange dance that wasn’t choreographed but looked smooth enough that it might as well have been. In a fight, it never felt like there were two bodies. It felt more to Zuko like there was just one being, both parties an extension of it. Fencing with Sal… well, it only served to punctuate that point. Where others faltered, Sal responded with more grace than Zuko had expected.
Zuko had been bad at fencing, at first. Absolutely terrible. He had gotten his ass handed to him several times until he had learned what he was doing wrong and devoted as much effort as possible to fixing it.
He felt the same pride glow in his chest now, as he made a touch, as he had when he had won his first match. The glory of winning against an opponent that seemed unbeatable. He wasn’t winning, not yet, at least. He may have been up a touch on Sal, but he had no time to celebrate. He moved gracefully back, moving his arm out of the way as quickly as possible as he struck at the side of Sal’s ankle.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 15, 2021 18:07:06 GMT -5
Sal could understand the appeal. Hell, there was a reason he had done it enough to get good at it. He had lived it, he had practiced and practiced and practiced again and again until he was able to do what he wanted to do, until he could make the moves he needed to make. This was a dance. This was a fight. This was both. He didn’t think he wanted to differentiate between the two. It felt like losing an important part to say it was one or the other.
He regretted that they’d never done this before. He almost wished he hadn’t stopped...he had been missing out, clearly. He almost wanted to join the team against, but he wasn’t sure whether that was the best idea, overall. Zuko seemed able to compensate for even the best of Sal’s strikes. He had gotten his first hit in, this time, and Sal hadn’t...this felt like it mattered even more becuase it was so hard.
Sal thought most people started off pretty bad. He hadn’t been horrendous exactly, but he hadn’t been good, either...he had been poor. But he had stuck with it, and it had paid off. He thought you really had to try to get good at something, and when you did, it mattered because of that effort. He wouldn’t be as proud of himself if he had started off good at it. And he couldn’t have watched himself improve, which was half the fun, really, a part that he knew he should concentrate on more in school, but didn’t. It was hard to care about school very much. He did his best, but he wasn’t going to work as tirelessly as he did when he liked what he was doing. He was okay with not being at the top of his class.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 16, 2021 14:48:11 GMT -5
Zuko tried to give his absolute all to everything he did. He didn’t always need to be the best, but he did want to succeed. He was just… not always the best at being good at a lot of things. He wasn’t a prodigy, not like Azula was. And he had found fencing more rewarding, anyway. He liked letting his body just react without having to worry about overthinking things. In school, he often had the answer right on instinct but managed to talk himself out of it by the time he turned the problem in. He tried really, really hard. He was just fairly certain that his brain wasn’t built for school. Zuko tried hard to convince himself that that didn’t mean he wasn’t smart, it just meant that his brain was built a little bit differently. He had gotten better at believing that since he had moved in with Iroh, but Azula was a pretty firm reminder that he was never going to be able to measure up. He shook his head of the thought, focusing entirely on the fight in front of him.
A thin smile broke across his lips, though he knew Sal couldn’t see it. He wondered if Sal felt the beauty in the fight as well. Normally, Zuko wanted to win. He wanted to prove that he deserved his place on the team, but he had earned that already. Now, there was nothing on the line other than this fight, and even if he lost, it wouldn’t be a stain on his honor. It would just be… well, a loss against a superior fencer. One Zuko could learn from. Still… losing would sting.
He was about to strike forward again when he heard the whistle and he drew back, a wild grin on his face. Second round, done. And he had won it.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 18, 2021 14:35:57 GMT -5
Fencing was far more rewarding than school was. Maybe it was just that school just kept coming every single day and there were no real rewards for success, there was just failing and not failing. There wasn’t ever doing perfectly. There wasn’t perfection in fencing either, technically, but there was actually winning in a way that didn’t happen in school, ever. It was a lot harder to get excited about avoiding failure than it was to actually win something.
That, and school was just harder for some people. It wasn’t easy to figure out. It was a lot harder for other people, he guessed, than it actually was for him, but still. It wasn’t exactly easy, and Sal could emphasize with those who didn’t want to do it.
He didn’t need to think about it, though, they were fencing, and that was all he needed to consider. He struck forwards again, trying to get a hit in, maybe even the match out before it ended but -
There was the whistle. Sal backed off, breathing out. Zuko had won that one. Which meant they were either going to be tied, or Zuko would take this win. Sal didn’t want to lose, of course, but Zuko was good. He didn’t think he’d feel too bad for losing to him.
He wasn’t giving up, though. Not even close. This next fight was his.
He waited a long moment. Then, the second the whistle sounded again, he lunged into a quick series of attacks at Zuko’s right shoulder.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 18, 2021 20:01:11 GMT -5
L wasn’t at all sure he agreed about Orpheus’ ideas on perfection. Maybe that was just because he didn’t like the idea of never being perfect. If he couldn’t be perfect, what was the point? If he could never get it to a place he was completely satisfied with...no, he didn’t like that.
Then again, Orpheus probably found something poetic in it. Orpheus seemed like the sort of person who might find poetry in most places. L didn’t see what was poetic about not succeeding, but he wasn’t going to keep arguing about it. If Orpheus didn’t think perfection was possible...well, maybe he didn’t know numbers like L did. Numbers were simple and easy and they didn’t lie. You could get math problems perfect. Maybe that was the difference...
“What about getting a math problem perfect?” He asked, tilting his he’s a little. “Doesn’t that count as perfect? I think maybe perfect exists in some things, but maybe not everything. I don’t like to do things I can’t do perfectly, though.”
Which was probably not the best way to think about it, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be satisfied with his own work, and he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t perfect.
He blinked. Orpheus seemed,...surprised. He hadn’t thought L would hate school, had he? He didn’t know, probably, how hard it was. How deeply the bullies hated him.
“Oh...well, it’s not...just the classes. The classes are okay, I mean, they’re boring and I don’t like them very much a lot of the time, but I don’t hate them…” he broke off, realizing he probably wasn’t making very much sense. He focused on the next topic instead, ignoring the sense that he should warn Orpheus not to try getting close to him. Why would Orpheus try that, anyway?
“Yes, I’d like to hear it,” he said instead, focusing on the violins.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 19, 2021 0:16:26 GMT -5
It seemed that there was a lot that Sal and Zuko could agree on. Fencing was far more worth it than school as, even if school was far more likely to get Zuko a legitimate job. Unless he wanted to become a fencing teacher… he wasn’t going to discount that possibility quite yet, though his true dream lay in politics. He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to prove that politicians didn’t have to be corrupt, that sometimes they fought for the people, that they could make things better, sometimes… he just wanted to make things better than they were. He didn’t know if he was competent enough for that, but that was why it was a dream. He was working towards it.
Zuko’s career goals weren’t relevant at the moment, however. It was just him and Sal and the end of the match, and then a new match. Wild joy spread across his face, though it was hidden by the visor.
“Nice one, Fisher,” he gasped, lurching backwards and managing to fend off the strikes. “Almost got me there.” He fell silent after that, lunging forward to try to hit at Sal’s left knee. “You’re going to have to try a little bit harder if you really want to get me, though.”
He was willing to attack Sal’s right side, but he didn’t want to completely target it. It would be an easier way to win, of course, but it felt… disrespectful. Lacking in sportsmanship. Iroh would be disappointed… and there was the small fact that Zuko was fairly certain he wanted to try to keep Sal as a potential friend. Or at least, someone he could learn from. Sal had some strategies and moves that Zuko had never even considered.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jun 19, 2021 23:18:46 GMT -5
“You can get a math problem right,” Orpheus mused, tilting his head a little bit, “but I guess… I don’t really know if you can get one perfect. Perfect… well, I guess to me it implies that there’s one way to do it that’s perfect, and with math that’s not always the case. People think all sorts of different ways, so I might solve a math problem really differently than you do. Maybe my way takes fewer mental steps, but I’m slower at doing it. You finish it first but your way takes more steps. Which way of doing it is perfect? I guess… it’s whichever way is easiest for the person doing it, but can they still possibly do it more quickly, if they practice? Is it the speed or the accuracy that makes it perfect?” Perhaps Orpheus was thinking too much about it… it was just that he believed that ‘perfect’ was a good goal to strive for, he just wasn’t sure it was actually attainable.
“I guess… maybe that’s just how I think because I’ve never done anything perfectly before. Maybe some people really do manage to be perfect at certain things every day… I guess… maybe I’m a little bit envious of those people.” Orpheus gave a small shrug, trying to offer a smile. He was mostly convinced that it was just a difference between how he saw the world and how L did. He hoped it didn’t mean that it was Orpheus alone who wasn’t capable of perfection.
“Let me play it for you,” Orpheus murmured, blushing a little bit as he allowed the conversation to shift. The conversation about perfection was getting a little bit uncomfortable, and treading into familiar territory felt much better. “This is the cheaper one,” he prefaced, raising the instrument to his chin. When he played, it still sounded nice, but the strings whined a little bit under the pressure, and the music sounded just a tiny bit tinny. It likely wouldn’t be obvious to L, at least not until Orpheus played the more expensive one. Orpheus could hear it, though. It still sounded nice, it was just a little bit… off. Imperfect. Was this what L meant when he spoke about not wanting to do something that wasn’t perfect?
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