fandomhighdorms | Behind the Dorms, Tuesday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Behind the Dorms, Tuesday Afternoon

"Today," Arthur announced, looking fit and rested after his first night in a room that did not have an annoying desert noble in it. "We will be talking about the kind of inconveniences that Fandom likes to drop on us from the skies. Sure, poptarts or syrup may seem like a novelty, but when we're dealing with it in a combat situation it suddenly takes on an entirely new angle. Because of that, we are going to spend this week coming up with potential items of rain, and how to deal with them."

He was not going to allow any laughter in his reserves, and his expression made it clear that this was not funny. No, not even to you, newbies.

Zack was not going to giggle. He wasn't. He was going to plaster the most solemn look ever onto his face and he was going to nod. Solemnly.

"We saw the syrup on Friday," he noted, crossing his arms over his chest, because it was easier to pretend that he wasn't about to start giggling like an idiot if he looked at least remotely professional on the outside. "Which was inconvenient enough on Friday. Can you imagine what it would have been like, trying to slog through that mess with a bunch of vampires or griffons or malboros bearing down on top of you? It'd gum up your weapons, get in your eyes. We'd be dead meat." A pause. "And extra tasty."

That was helpful, Zack. Thank you.

... Zack, Arthur was trying to be serious. Please don't make him laugh.

Which he was making an effortless show of not doing, thank you. "Those of you who've been here long," he said, "Should share what you know about what rains from the sky. There are things we should be able to stock up on in case an invasion coincides with one of these things, such as glasses when the rain is-- glittery." Not. Laughing. "There are also ways we should be able to use these effects against our enemy. Had the harpies attacked during the syrup rain, it may have slowed their flight considerably, offering us new chances to attack."

"Or like the rain of condoms over in that other--" Zack clapped his hands over his mouth, wide-eyed and blushing. And then he fell into a fit of giggles the like the world had never before seen. There was a moment of that, and then he moved one hand away from his mouth, waving it vaguely in the direction of the other people around them. They could start any time now!

Helpfully, Arthur reached over to give Zack a thwap over the back of his head. "Get talking," he informed the crowd with a restrained smile.

[OCD ~~on the way!~~ up, and it helps if I note that fact, self.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"In any other circumstance," Arthur said, "Or any other place, I would be one to agree with you. However," and oh, his voice was perfectly conversational as to not attract any attention - he had in fact come towards Zack at a reasonably out of the way spot - "It isn't here, and you are making us look like fools. So compose yourself." A beat. "And pick up a sword, I'm not brawling with you, for God's sake."

Ooooooh. Well, that made more sense, then. Zack had his sword at his back for the majority of these meetings, after all. Even if it never got used, he got to feel like he was all official or something with it on.

He liked to dream the dream. Really.

"Look like fools? Seriously?" He unsheathed his sword and gave it a twirl. "I didn't think I looked all that foolish."

Until he'd started giggling about condoms, at least.

"Ah, delusional, as well," Arthur commented, unsheathing his own sword with a calm ease to offset Zack's whole... giggling, twirling thing. "Let's see how many blows it takes to make you hit the ground again?"

Zack was pretty sure that Arthur did the whole 'regal poise' thing because he was jealous that he'd had a hard time lifting the SOLDIER sword, himself. Poor Arthur and his shorter weapons.

"At least a few, this time," Zack decided. Because the day Arthur could manage to cold-cock him on his first try would be the day that Zack would hand his SOLDIER resignation in there on the spot. In shame. Shame and woe. And such.

He gave his sword another spin for good measure, and then he swung, a long, open, sideways slash directed somewhere toward Arthur's middle.

Oh, Arthur could lift Zack's sword just fine, if need be. He just didn't see the point when he had a perfectly good, more efficient and workable blade of his own. "If you say so," was what Arthur managed to say, before suddenly he was being forced to move, parrying Zack's blow fast, dodging slightly sideways to get in closer and struck high.

Zack kind of really, really wanted Arthur to see Angeal's sword, sometime. It was awesome and massive and if there was any one way to completely decimate someone's manly pride, it would be to show them the Buster Sword and then dare them to try to lift it.

Zack was not that cruel.

He was, however, going to duck so low that his knees brushed the grass, avoiding Arthur's strike while swinging his sword again, this time toward Arthur's ankles.

Which actually forced Arthur to jump out of the way to make sure he didn't prematurely lose his feet, thank you, Zack. He brought his sword solidly down in an attempt to keep Zack's out of the way while he threw his shoulder at Zack's head.

Just because Zack had such confidence in his ability to remain upright didn't mean Arthur did.

Zack and his head were growing less and less fond of Arthur's shoulders every time they sparred, really. He had a split-moment to choose between letting himself get knocked down with minimum damage to his face, or else to brace himself, stay standing, down a potion for this later.

One of these days, he'd figure out that just rolling out of the way was an option, too. Really.

He braced himself. Dug his heels into the dirt and turned his head, taking the blow full and solid against his clenched jaw. It hurt. It hurt pretty much right away, but Zack wasn't going to falter. He didn't give an inch so much as he backed up a half-step, and then threw himself right back, aiming his shoulder for Arthur's chest. His sword was no good at this close range, after all.

Arthur was fully dedicated to throwing his shoulder in Zack's face right up until the day Zack realised that just rolling out of the way was an option. He was providing an educational service, which just happened to be bloody good fun at the same time.

He did yank himself out of the way as fast as he could, his foot shooting out in an attempt to trip up Zack before he hit anything (such as Arthur's shoulder, which was not yet fully out of the way there).

This, naturally, meant that Zack was now tripping gracefully past Arthur, their shoulders brushing past one another as Zack worked on keeping from falling on his face.

Fighting with his brain instead of his brawn was hard.

He managed to catch himself a few feet away, and then it was just a matter of getting himself spun around again, putting his sword up between the two of them as quickly as possible.

Arthur wasn't intent on giving him time to recuperate. As soon as Zack had turned, his sword right there in the center, he attacked again, a quick pattern of low-high-low. He figured Zack could at least keep up with that.

If anything, he had to keep that long-as-hell sword away from the range where it would do the most damage.

... And yes, he'd agree, for Zack, fighting with his brain instead of his brawn would be hard.

It was a matter of focus! Zack would be awesome if he'd just mellow out and pay attention, instead of hacking at things and banking on slicing clean through them! He could more-or-less manage during random no-rules spars with Deadpool, because he didn't have to care about where his sword was going or how badly either of them got hurt along the way. Arthur could totally trounce him, because Zack had to actually pay attention to what went where, and how hard.

That was the weirdest, most upside-down line to be drawn in the history of ever, really.

The low-high-low was easy enough to follow, though, and he found himself grinning as their swords clashed against one another, in spite of the ache in his jaw. He then decided to backstep again, just to get some more out of that range of his, before lashing out again, high.

It was, and it wasn't. It was well and good to know how to slice straight through things, but once your opponents got trickier than that-- once you needed to keep objectives in mind.

Well.

Which is not to say Arthur would not be entirely envious (and feeling maybe a touch inadequate) if he ever saw Zack fully in his element, but... that wasn't liable to happen any time soon, and right now he had a swordfight to deal with.

Arthur's feet had to dance him back into range as he blocked. Keep on moving, shifting along with Zack, striking another pattern as he put in some slight effort to remain in the circle he'd chosen.

It was a neat little circle of strike and parry, and Zack was going to have to work hard to keep the grin from his lips as they worked through the motions. He had no illusions about Arthur's strategy. He knew that he was probably going to get trounced quite soundly once again. And he didn't care. This kind of thing was what Zack lived for, and if he wasn't bruised and aching when they were done, he wasn't doing something right.

He stepped back again. Swung out again, moving forward as he did so. Backing up wouldn't do him any good if he managed to back himself into a corner, after all.

That one actually came close. It also looked like opportunity - catch the blade against his, back into that gridlock of Zack's strength slowly beating out his own agility as he held the blade--

And kicked at his knee as soon as he was close enough.

Oh, okay, his sword being kind of stuck wasn't an issue. All Zack really had to do was put his back into it, wrench it upwa--

"Hey!"

He needed that knee!

No, really! He needed that knee! Because having it kicked while he had it pretty much locked in place to try to pry that sword free meant that it was now a very unhappy knee, and Zack was twisting and trying to shift his weight onto his other leg so that he didn't drop like a ton of bricks.

Okay. Okay, he was in one place. That was fine. He just couldn't... Um. Walk. He'd down a potion for this in a minute. They weren't done yet, right?

Owww.

Arthur smiled at him. It'd be brilliant like the sun if it wasn't utterly evil.

It'd be evil but brilliant, in fact, if it wasn't that he took the instant after that smile to snap his elbow hard up at Zack's face again. He was fairly sure he hadn't done any permanent damage, and that's what mattered.

Oh, hey, there was that telltale sound that was telling Zack that his nose was going to start bleeding quite profusely very, very shortly.

And there was Zack, not able to do much about this fact except fall to the ground with a 'whump.'

And then there was Zack, trying to get up again, because he was either an idiot or a masochist, or both.

And then there was Arthur, firmly putting his boot down on Zack before he managed to get up, or at least making a spirited attempt to get there first.

And now there was Zack, faceplanted on the lawn, with a hand to his nose and a grimace on his lips.

"Oof."

That about summed that up nicely, didn't it?

"Yes," Arthur said, leaning over him, "'Oof'. 'Oof' is a good noise. 'Sigh' is a good noise. Giggling like a little girl, on the other hand, is ridiculous."

... What? Zack was there, there was a point to be made, it was ~~easy~~ sensible.

Zack blinked up at Arthur at that, hand cupping his nose as though he was trying to make some valiant effort to keep from staining the grass.

"You mean, you beat me to the ground because I laughed?"

... Gods help him, he was giggling again.

And this was Arthur's boot, giving him a nudge to remind him he could probably do something bad to Zack's airflow if he felt like it.

"Some level of decorum has to be maintained," he shot down at him, "But that makes me sound like a sadist."

Which he wasn't. At all.

Oh, no, not in the least!

Zack was beyond the point of giggles, now. Zack was smiling in that way that totally suggested that he was well and truly incapable of talking without howling. And so he nodded the most unceremonious nod ever and then clamped his other hand over his mouth.

And now he wasn't able to breathe. So there was squirming.

... Zack possibly failed miserably at decorum.

Arthur's eyes rolled towards the sky. He applied some more pressure to his foot, then finally leaned down and gave Zack the massive back-of-his-head whacking that he'd earned. "If we were in Camelot, I'd have you in the stocks by now," he informed the boy, leaning back just slightly.

Behind the Dorms, Tuesday Afternoon

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!

Re: Talk to the Guys!