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The Salle - Thursday Afternoon

Peter got to the salle a bit earlier than he'd asked Jeff to meet him there so he could stretch and get in another short practice with Rhindon before starting to teach.

As he started to move through the basic forms, he rather wondered if after radio crackdowns and separating roommates, the new principal would decide to ban weapons practice. That wouldn't be so good.

[OOC: Open though Peter is expecting Jeff for vaguely Freudian activities. God help us all]

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After delivering the really large, really pink bouquet of flowers to Umbridge's office, Jeff hurried his way to the salle without losing too much time on the conversation aspects of it. "Hi," he said, coming in, "Sorry I'm a bit late, I had to thank the principal for dealing with my nudity issues earlier."

He was also fully dressed. Commence the sighing in relief.

"She gave you clothes?" Peter asked doubtfully. He was, indeed, sighing in relief at the clothed roommate. "No worries about the time. It's not short."

"Well, fur, which nude hermit-wise is a real find in winter, isn't it? No chance of your boys freezing off."

This was an idea that had always scared Jeff away from winter vacations ever since his mother told him her version of the story of the Snow Queen.

"Certainly beats only being able to hermit on a tropical island," Peter agreed. He frowned. "I'd've preferred fur to that stupid tongue curse."

Jeff began to look around the salle for the first time. He'd never actually been here before.

"...Tongue curse?" he asked, "Did you get something-- er, stuck?"

He was receiving mental images. They were mildly alarming.

The salle was a fairly small stone room with enough room to drill and spar, but not much more than that. A few racks of practice weapons lined two of the walls with wooden benches along the other too.

"It was stuck to the top of my mouth," Peter explained, shuddering at the memory. He went over to sheathe his sword and grab two practice swords from the racks.

His mood brightened again. "Oh, that's all right, then," Jeff said. He'd been envisioning something a lot more scarring than that, and he'd been having trouble tracing it back to Principal Umbridge. "Sort of useful in its own way, isn't it? If you're prone to speaking rubbish a lot..."

Echoes of Turtle earlier this afternoon. He decided to redirect his attention to the swords.

Peter stared at him. "Using magic to shut someone up or for punishment is evil." There wasn't much room in his tone for argument.

"I'm just saying it could be really useful sometimes," Jeff said, "You know, if you could do it to yourself. There's times. Are those the swords?"

"Could just hold your tongue on your own too," Peter pointed out. Not that he had much faith Jeff would be good at that. He nodded and handed a sword to Jeff, hilt first. "Just a practice weapon, but you want to train with those first before moving on to live steel."

"You would think that," Jeff muttered, "But it rarely works out that way, does it?"

He took the sword and stared at it in wonder. "...Well, I wouldn't want to remove anything on my first go," he said, "It may be a bad sign."

"Probably true," Peter agreed. "There's a reason why the first lesson is always the pointy end goes in the other man." He paused, hearing Willow's protest. "Or woman."

"...Are you prone to putting the pointy end in women, then?" Jeff asked. He meant it innocently. For once.

"...well, I've never put it in a man," Peter said slowly. "But I'm content to stick with women."

Jeff blinked. "What?" he said, "...I didn't know knights approved of the slaughter of women. I mean, that's a bit immoral, isn't it?"

"What? No! I've never killed a woman!" Peter flailed, realising that he'd completely missed Jeff's point. "I don't even let my sisters fight at home."

It took a little while for the point to suddenly connect with Jeff's head, too. "Wait! You meant-- No, no, women is good. Women are excellent! I love women, I'd never want to slaughter them or anything, or, you know, pointy-ending in a bad way or anything. That's just... bad. Can we get to the swords now?"

Peter made a note of a conversational detour never again to be taken with his roommate. "Right, swords. That one is your hand is a one-handed sword. You shouldn't need two hands to wield it, but if you need them at first, it's fine."

Yes, it would be better not to ever bring that up around Jeff again. He was having enough weird thoughts without anyone's help, thanks.

"Okay," he said, and stared in fascination as his arms adjusted to gravity's demands, "My arms won't fall off or anything, right?"

"Not unless you get them cut off," Peter replied. "Or do they often have a habit of falling off?"

"No," Jeff said, "Not generally." He felt he was about ready for the lifting part.

Peter watched him. "Give it a go. If you really need to, use both hands."

There was lifting.

Requiring two hands, because Jeff had all the coordination of a spastic frog on a good day.

And then maybe some really careful, wobbly waving.

"Excellent," he said.

"And you'll get stronger as you work with it more," Peter said. "Practice makes perfect long as you don't poke your eye out."

More of the wavy, slightly less wobbly this time around. Then Jeff paused, concerned, "Is it that big a risk?" he asked.

"Not particularly given that you'd have to be trying to do it," Peter said. He fell into a basic fighting stance, shifting his feet and weight and holding his sword at guard. "Can you mimic this? This is your home stance. It's where all your moves are going to come from at first."

"Er..."

Jeff was trying. It just took him a little while to figure out exactly how to get in the right position. These things were harder than they looked.

He managed, in the end. Awkwardly so.

Peter nodded. "Good. Very nice." He dropped his own position and moved over to Jeff. "Widen your feet a bit more and maybe angle the sword higher. You want to be perfectly balanced here but ready to move in any direction."

"Balance. Right."

That might become an issue in the long run. Jeff moved a little, trying desperately not to overweigh himself or anything because he didn't want to end up a floppy fish on the floor.

He eyed him consideringly, the lack of balance becoming a bit of an issue in his brain. Peter reached out to take the sword from Jeff. "Without the weapon, can you balance in that position?"

Swordless, Jeff was having a little less trouble with it.

He was an awkward boy. Maybe if he was lucky he'd grow into it some day.

"...I guess," he said. "There seems to be no immediate risk of toppling."

"I won't test you on that today," he said with a grin. "But my weaponsmasters used to walk around me and push to see how balanced I was." Peter handed the sword back, steadying the dulled edge until he know Jeff had it and was balanced.

"...Please don't push me, I've got enough nightmares about squashing my boys as is," Jeff said, gripping the sword in some weird semblance of... sword-gripping. "You never know when there might be, you know, eye-gouging."

Thusly, the awkward unbalanced boy did continue to spend the next hour or so waving around phallic objects with the instruction of the King ~~and then there was Freudian sexin'~~.

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The Salle - Thursday Afternoon

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