|
|
Post by Dimitry Zechevny on Dec 21, 2009 20:11:50 GMT -8
She was late.
He wasn't impressed either. One of the field recruits who was scheduled to meet him here hadn't showed up, and it was over an hour since they were supposed to start. Perhaps she'd gotten lost? Or injured? Or maybe the fact that she'd come back bruised and battered from her last training session had put her off it. Maybe she'd actually put some effort in with the rest of them now, instead of wasting their time, and subsequently his. He hated this part of the job sometimes.
A pretty young thing, evidently a Valentine by the casual saunter she adopted walked in, looking at him inquisitively, as if to ask, 'Why are you packing away. You don't seem to have done anything.' He smiled at her, before he dropped the last of the equipment in the bag. He turned to face her, before speaking.
Not the usual place for a Valentine. I'd have thought you'd be more interested in, well more civilised conduct than brawling.
He smirked. Civilised was quite often something the Valentines were not. His experiences with Ms. Acadia had shown him that. He wondered how long it would take before word of THAT escapade got out... She seemed oddly dressed as well. She looked like she was actually here to train. This shocked him. A lot. He didn't show it though.
So, you're here to train? Lavalle's orders, or your own whims?
He returned to sealing the bags, ordering them neatly beside one of the benches, before taking out a water bottle, drinking from it, before sealing it, and putting it next to one of the bags. |
|
|
|
Post by Elisabeta Sovu on Dec 21, 2009 20:50:45 GMT -8
Quietly she walked down the hall, smiling sweetly at a few grunts as they passed her by, their young eyes looking her over with the same pleasure she saw in most men's eyes. The kind that made men look like pigs and only wanted to make her knee them where the sun don't shine. Still, she kept to her training and blushed innocently at pervy wolf whistles and managed a seductive wink for the more shy ones.
She supposed it was the best she could hope for from men that weren't involved with the Valentine though. That, and the tight black t-shirt, black skinny jeans just loose enough to allow flexible movement along with her bare feet weren't really repulsive items.
Finally she rounded the corner to the training room, looking in curiously. She was surprised to see the tall, well muscled man across the room instead of perhaps the trainer she'd had a few weeks with as a grunt before heading into the Valentine area. Whatever his name was, she was happy she didn't have to deal with him again. Having a grabby instructor made her mad...it seemed having a student that can break your nose when you're paying more attention to her breasts than her actions wasn't as desirable for him either.
Oh well. Time to make friends. She opened her mouth to give him a sweet 'hello' but was interrupted with a comment she wasn't sure to laugh at or to be offended. Training it is.
She giggled softly and walked closer to him, watching intently as his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp of water he took. Running her fingers through her hair, she smiled happily and cocked her head to the side in a curious sort of gesture.
"Hm, I suppose it was all my idea. Then again, I liked learning how to fight...helped with my anger issues." |
|
|
|
Post by Dimitry Zechevny on Dec 22, 2009 7:30:42 GMT -8
He nodded, adjusting the cloth bracings about his hands, before turning to face her. She had her head cocked to the side, and it made him smile. Her giggle was quite adorable as well, so he was in a surprisingly good mood for someone who'd had an hour of his time wasted.
Yes, combat is a good source of stress relief. I would imagine a lot of stress can come from your sector.
He thought about Acadia's drive for perfection and cleanliness, as well as the viciousness she could speak with. No wonder she led them so well. Her standards were high, and her punishments swift and harsh. Made a very talented group of people all the more determined to suceed.
Well, since you're here, I may as well do something, otherwise it's a wasted effort bringing all this stuff down. Tell me, how good at this are you?
He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He often wondered what the combat abilities of her department were. Lavalle was very much an advocate for teaching self defense to 'her girls', so he expected at least some of them to be competent. She, however, didn't look like the type who would do particularly well in a fight. She seemed a tad frail. But then, it was always the ones you least expected who had a habit of surprising you. |
|
|
|
Post by Elisabeta Sovu on Dec 22, 2009 10:06:55 GMT -8
Elisa grinned at him and watched for a moment as he fidgeted with his hand. They were big hands, strong ones. The kind that told a girl what kind of man he was. She knew, without having to touch them, that they would be rough with hard work. She stuck her small hand out, reaching to shake his.
"I'm Elisabeta, you can call me Elisa though. Everyone does".
Moving her eyes back up to meet his eyes with her own sapphire ones, she continued to smile before puling her hand away and placed both of them behind her back, starting to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet.
"I've had a few weeks of basics, and I was always tussling with the boys in my village while I was growing up..."
She felt silly, saying what she was. Of course you could tell he was well adapted in the fighting area, but when you took one look at her little form it was hard to take her seriously when she was looking for a fight. Besides, she doubted they would really get very far just talking about what she could do. |
|
|
|
Post by Dimitry Zechevny on Dec 22, 2009 10:59:02 GMT -8
Dimitry took the hand, shaking it gently. He was almost scared that he'd break it. She just seemed so dainty... But if she was convinced she was reasonably good, he'd believe her. Sort of.
Dimitry. My friends don't have a name for me. Just Dimitry.
He smiled softly. So a little scrapper was she? It was always the small ones... He cracked his fingers, then his neck, flexing his joints. He was intrigued.
Show me.
He assumed a loose stance, his balance completely central, low slung, hands raised across his body in a pretty rudimentary guard. He moved toward the centre of the impact mats, facing her, bouncing on the balls of his feet gently, never staying still.
I promise I won't hurt you. Much.
He smirked at the comment, watching her facial expression. |
|
|
|
Post by Elisabeta Sovu on Dec 23, 2009 16:37:09 GMT -8
She watched him quietly, a smirk playing on her lips as she did so. It was easy to see a few open areas in the way he was standing, but trainer doesn't have open spots. Ever. They were trained to trick their opponent and bring them down in any way they could. If that meant luring them into a false sense of easy victory, then that's what was done.
So his 'open areas' were more like death traps. And so as she followed him slowly onto the mats,beginning to circle his jumping form, she was sure that instantly going for the obvious would only get her slammed to the ground.
Maybe if she went for what was usually considered a guarded area it would surprise him enough she could get a good hit. It would have to be done quickly and precisely though. If she slipped or hesitated than she would run the risk of being pinned. She did not like to be pinned.
Suddenly she ran toward him, pushing herself into a reverse side kick, aiming directly for his chest with her foot.
"Kyah!" |
|
|
|
Post by Dimitry Zechevny on Dec 23, 2009 17:20:38 GMT -8
She was fast for certain. Dimitry however had a massive repetoire of experience, and in all honesty, was born to fight. Stepping back once, he blocked her kick with his arm, before shunting it back out of the way. He moved himself back into position, before pausing for a moment.
Good effort. Very precise technique, good rotation speed. But you need to not aim for somewhere so easily blocked. You aren't as strong as most fighters, you have to fight smart.
He lunged in at her as soon as he finished, his own leg flicking out, stopping short of actually being able to hit her, snapping back before he pivoted his leg around, his sweeping kick sailing just over her head. He drew back, his guard raised, still moving about constantly, never remaining in the same line to her, making her move around as well, at least to face him.
Come on, lets see some real movement. Think of the one person you hate the most, and pretend I'm that person. Go.
He tightened his guard somewhat. The last time he'd done this, he'd almost lost a few teeth. Rage was a powerful tool in combat, especially at close quarters. But it needed to be controlled, particularly in a training environment. His bouncing became limited to simply keeping on his toes, just to keep him reasonably mobile, and more importantly, not flat-footed. |
|
|
|
Post by Elisabeta Sovu on Dec 26, 2009 20:19:06 GMT -8
She stumbled backwards at the impact of his arm. His deflection was was fast and easy. It looked like he didn't even have to try for that one. It intimidated her, that was for sure, but she wasn't about to back down from him now. Silently she continued to circle him, listening to his advice with rapt attention before studying him closely again.
Okay, so, her technique wasn't going to work. Maybe she was just over thinking all of this. But then again, maybe she was just making mistakes in her observations of his form. She recognized it as one of the very first she had learned as a grunt, but it wasn't one she quite liked to take on. It felt limited and confined to her. Because she hadn't paid much attention to that particular stance when they learned it, she wasn't too keen on finding many openings.
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Dimitri's foot came with in inches of her nose. She gasped, surprised by his sudden motion. The furry of fists and arms and legs that ensued his kick had her stumbling and ducking in clumsy and embarrassing ways. She began getting frustrated with herself and how she was acting. Getting taunted was not helping her though, and her playful smirk turned into a hateful glower.
Her small hands balled into fists and, as soon as he'd stopped moving, she charged at him again. Her fists moved toward his nose and cheek while she readied herself for knocking him off his feet. Quickly she threw another fist toward his nose but before she could make contact she suddenly dropped to the ground and swung around her left leg, aiming for his ankles with her own.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dimitry Zechevny on Dec 27, 2009 14:35:58 GMT -8
While her technique was not perfect, it was well employed. She came in quickly, attacking into his guard again, but with much more speed, and more force. His own blocks forced the two blows away, but the leg sweep however, it caught him full as he landed on his feet. He felt his weight shift poorly, unbalancing him, before her leg flicked his weight over, and he rotated his upper body to try and roll out of the move. It worked a charm, as he landed, legs tucked, and rolled to his right, before standing up, turning to face her, smiling.
Good, very good. But, don't contact with your ankles. Use the back of your thighs. Hurts you less, makes sure you don't break your ankles.
He darted in, feinting right, before switching his weight left, dropping all of his weight onto his left foot, spinning himself round to bring his thighs into contact with hers, as perfectly formed as they were. But having delightfully shaped thighs was little help when someone was sweeping your legs out from underneath you. He followed the movement through, catching her as she fell.
The key is to not strike the leg, but to pull the leg out of position. Get lower than they are, then continue the movement. Your technique is solid, but it needs a little refining.
His head had been extremely close to her, and he grinned slightly as he looked at her, before he let her down onto the floor, bouncing away, circling her point on the mat.
Try it again. Remember, sweep, not hack. You do it well, I'll hit the ground like a good boy. You don't, well, you will instead.
He stopped circling again, merely bouncing on his toes, smirking slightly. She was promising, if not a particularly frail specimen of a trainee. She had the speed, and the technique, but lacked the strength that was so important in hand to hand. But that could be trained. Just took time and perserverence. |
|
|
|
Post by Elisabeta Sovu on Jan 1, 2010 20:05:28 GMT -8
Elisa landed in his arms with a rather loud huff. Her eyes had slammed shut the instant his leg had made contact with hers. She's known it was inevitable that he'd make her fall, but she didn't have the quick thinking to try a move like he'd done when she'd manage to catch him off guard. Slowly she opened her blue orbs and was surprised to find that his nose was nearly touching hers. His warm breath caressed her cheek so softly it made the skin tingle and itch. She was also pretty sure that the sudden burning heat on her neck and cheeks had everything to do with how close they were.
However, before she could much more than stare at Dimitri, he let her fall to the ground with much more grace than she would have had he not caught her. As he bounced happily away, she jumped to her feet and glowered after him. She refused to accept that the blushing had been caused by his proximity. No, that could have never been it. It must have been that she was feeling like an idiot for allowing herself to feel triumph after making him fall and letting her guard down. She must have looked so dumb. Not to mention she knew she didn't look like the type of girl that could handle herself in a fight. She hated that and she wanted to badly to prove to someone that she could be better than the best. Even if it meant months of lessons, she would beat Dimitri one day or another.
Quickly she moved toward him again, keeping eye contact and regaining her smirk. She couldn't help but stick to her Valentine training. It was all second nature to her at this point. Automatic, like blinking or breathing. So she fluttered her long lashes and raised a delicate eyebrow as she continued to dart in and out of striking range. She wanted to play with him for a while before she actually did what he wanted her to. Maybe she was being a little childish but if she got too frustrated she would start to pull stupid techniques that could only end with her face pressed against the mats.
Their fighting reminded her a lot of home. All the boys taunting and teasing her. poking and spitting and pulling until she finally broke and went after the closest one. It was always best when she took on one of the older boys. They were always taller, bigger, stronger than her in every way possible, but she loved the challenge of it all. It wasn't until she was about nine that she finally managed to beat one of them into the dirt. Then again it had mostly been because he'd insulted one of her sisters. She'd received a serious punishment when she'd arrived home that night, but it had been worth it. The boys had accepted her into the gang and she would be respected.
They called her "Lupoaica" or "She wolf" because of the way she held herself and the way she protected her friends and family. They also called her that because of the sheer determination she had when she fought with someone. They told her she often seemed to bare her teeth and growl when she was really getting into it all. She didn't believe them for one second, but either way, she was going to show Dimitri what a Roma girl was capable of in a fight.
Suddenly she darted for him and shifted her weight, bringing up her left leg. Easily she copied the way he'd done his move earlier, her smirk still in place as she made contact with her thighs. She hoped this would end with her looking down at him, hands on her hips and a grin splitting her cheeks. |
|
|
|
Post by Dimitry Zechevny on Jan 6, 2010 9:12:02 GMT -8
He'd noticed the flush running across her cheeks, and he smiled inwardly, even as he smirked visibly. Perhaps she wasn't really here to train... Maybe she was here to just humour him, lure him into her 'trap' so to speak. That seemed to be what she was doing. The batting of her eyelids, the light smirk on her lips... It was easy to see why the Valentines were so... Unique.
What was she thinking about though? She seemed like she was simply reliving something. He started thinking back about the events that had happened in the past weeks. Things had been relatively calm. Only one assassination mission to take, and the run in with Ms Lavalle... Something he had enjoyed CONSIDERABLY.
It was as he thought that she made her move. Smirk still on their lips, her leg swept his out from under him. It was a strong sweep, thigh to thigh contact, a perfect example of applied technique, with a measure of timing and distraction. The best kind for her as well. Feminine charm had that effect on men. He hit the ground with a thud, lying there.
Ok... That was good...
He lay there, forming his own deception. He didn't move, other than sort of shuffling slightly, as if winded. Fight fire with fire he guessed. The plan formed in his head, her probably very pleased with herself coming to survey the damage, him, enacting the masterstroke which would provide something of a role reversal.
Good technique... You must really hate who you saw me as...
Invisibly, he tensed all the muscles in his body, ready to spring into action, his body like a coil, wound tightly, about to expand. |
|
