fandomhighdorms | Behind the Dorms, Tuesday Afternoon

"Alright!" When the Reserves crew assembled today, they'd be greeted by Zack, holding up... Half a sword! The last two feet of the length of his blade were nowhere to be seen, and what survived was the hilt, and a length of metal that had definitely seen better days. "Broken weapons! They happen! I know some of you think your blades are all but invincible, but considering the sorts of things we see around here every day, I think it'd be safe to assume that someday, something will invade that stands a chance at disarming even you."

Like, say, Klingons.

Zack tossed what was left of his sword onto the ground at his feet, and then crossed his arms over his chest.

"A broken weapon means that you're going to have two problems. First, the very immediate issue of an enemy that quite possibly has now gained a serious upper hand against you. And second, the eventual repair or replacement of your weapon." He perked a little, giving his hands a clap together. "So! What we're going to do today is discuss both. Can you hold your own in a fight with something big and mean if you've been disarmed? Is your weapon still capable of doing some damage with what might be left? My sword isn't any good for attacking anymore, but at least I can use it to block incoming attacks with what's still there. And then talk about the repair or replacement. Is there someone on the island who can fix your weapon in particular? Can you find another one if it's beyond repair, or is it one of a kind?"

"Some of you may remember the meeting we held on searching your environment for an appropriate weapon," Arthur cut in, "In a pinch, remember to look around you, and to make use of what you've got. In fact, you're best off making sure you've got the measure of the area before you even start - lest you lose a flail and don't know to find the blunt instrument you might need to take out your enemy." NOT THAT HE KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT. "Look around the grounds -- do you see anything you could use to your advantage if disarmed? And, on a related note - how great are your skills of avoidance -- although we'll go into that next week."

[OCD is up and the Reserves are open to all!]

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"I am Illyria." She considered the girl's initial statement, lifting the sword to appraise it herself as well as offer it for view. "The blade is rare, but could be re-created." Wolfram and Hart had an entire division devoted to such things, which made her consider sending Wesley pictures and a demand for her own personal bat'leth.

"Oo. Really? You think?" Dinah bounced on her toes, then got a grip on herself ~~not like that~~ and took a breath. "The wolf, the ram, and the-- heart? Would they be okay with that?" She cocked her head and asked, "How much does it weigh? I'm pretty strong, but does that need super-strength?" And then, because she was curious, "How did you get to have it?"

She was capable of comprehending humor, given enough context, so it was with a lifted eyebrow that Illyria said, "I 'requisitioned' it." With a fist. Among an armload of others. Wesley had mentioned forms to be filled out; Illyria had stared at him. Wesley had filled out forms.

She studied the girl. You didn't hand weapons to an enemy no matter how little the blade might mean to you personally. On the other hand (of the limited number she had left) this girl was a member of the army she seemed to have joined.

And then there was the part where even unarmed Illyria was fairly sure she could wipe the grass with Dinah.

She held out the sword, blade down, grip out. "I haven't weighed it." Dinah would be able to lift it. Probably. Maybe. Swing it? doubtful.

Edited 2009-09-15 22:00 (UTC)

Dinah blinked at her tone, then grinned. "Is that the same as liberating it? 'Cause if someone isn't appreciating a good weapon, it should be set free." Then she fought back the urge to squee when Illyria offered her the blade. "Cooooool. Thanks, I know some people don't like people touching their weapons..."

She could lift it; she could do one almost-swing, at waist-height, and yeah. Two seconds into any fight her arms would be screaming for mercy, if she could even manage to lift it more than once. She actually quieted down while evaluating it, face creasing in disappointment. But still. Awesome blade.

"Liberating probably requires less 'paperwork.'" Illyria's lips curled up at one edge. "Touching my weapon without my permission would mean you think you're strong enough to take it from me. Any here who thought that would be wrong." That might well be a lie, but she was going with it. "I have no issue with giving that permission to demonstrate my power."

Dinah looked up from the blade to smirk at the first part, then had to shrug at the second, since she really, really wasn't strong enough to take it. The third part, about permission and power, that was interesting. She was still processing it when she offered the blade back to Illyria. "I'd have to have a shorter one, if I wanted something similar. Or a lighter metal, although that one looks great, and I don't know how well a lighter one would work." She gave Illyria an assessing glance, then figured out what it was: totally royalty. Arthur and Azula talked the same way, especially Azula. "Are you royalty, where you're from?"

Illyria gave her a level stare for a moment as she fought to hide anything like gratitude that someone in this world didn't need her to say so before they acknowledged it.

"I was."

"Thought so." Arthur's occasional dictatorial phrasing, Leto's thoughtless confidence, Azula's unconscious arrogance, the whole assumption of power that Illyria had mentioned: it was either royalty, or something really close to it. The stare was unnerving, not... human, maybe. Along with the hair and eyes, anyway. Although what flavor of not-human, Dinah had no way to guess. "There's a few other royal types here too." Past tense, though, for Illyria, apparently. "Um. How are you liking it so far?"

"I've known better millennia." Not that she was bitter.

"Eeeugh. That sucky, hunh?" And was she being literal about the millennia? "Um. If it's not a rude question-- how old are you?"

Not rude, to Illyria's way of thinking, but possibly unanswerable. "Older than your system of measuring time."

Which is ... whoa. More than Fiona's claims to goddesshood, or Aphrodite or Raven's father being a demon, or anything else, this is kind of mind-blowing. "Seriously?" Dinah stared at Illyria, and realized that no, she really wasn't the type to make stuff like that up. "...I so have no response to that," she said weakly.

"Speechless awe is an acceptable response," Illyria allowed.

Behind the Dorms, Tuesday Afternoon

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