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The Salle, Thursday After Classes

It had been quite a while since the last time Arthur had faced off with Zack, and if he were perfectly honest, he was in fact curious to see how much the boy had improved. Aside from his other concerns where Zack came into the picture; it was also a shallow excuse to check up on his state of mind.

Arthur came into the salle with his newly-recovered favourite sword in hand, earlier than he'd settled with Zack. After the whole mess with Jacob, he could use a few drills with it to get some of his aggression out, so...

There would be a blond knight on the mat, going through his forms with ruthless efficiency.

[[ primarily for the puppy, but open to all in general for salle use or Arthur abuse ]]

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Zack. Sword. Denial. Salle. Sparring match. A recipe for disaster, or for awesome?

Zack was certainly hoping the second. Hell, he was even wearing a smile as he made his way in to the salle today, which he figured was a step up from... most of the rest of the week, actually.

"Hi, Arthur!"

[And now I flee to work. SP is our friend?]

"Zack," Arthur greeted, finishing up his drill with a twirl. "I do hope you've managed to bring your best to the fore today."

"Nah, just the one," Zack replied, grinning and reaching to his back for his sword. "And it's the only one I've got, so it had better be the best."

... Difficult as it was to believe, Zack was actually joking here, and totally knew what Arthur had been getting at. Zack was also the sort to overcompensate for distress by being all the more outwardly idiotic whenever he could manage.

This, sadly, would never change.

Arthur predictably rolled his eyes. "So that would be a no, then," he said, because mean snark was the way he operated and he would do so until the day he died. Something like that.

"See if you can remember your spot on the mat, at least."

"That would be the one that you're not standing in, right?"

Logic! It sometimes served the puppy well!

He gave his sword a twirl and actually bounced a little in place, giving Arthur a nod. He was ready anytime!

Arthur's eyebrows went up in a sort of dancelike maneuver that made it clear he was ready as well, sliding elegantly into a stance. "I'm waiting."

"Sorry to keep you--" And here would be where Zack came at Arthur with the requisite opening run, yes, "--waiting!"

He was hitting hard and hitting fast, today, swinging his sword down toward Arthur's shoulder with a strength that came entirely too easily to him. Yes, yes he had been out working.

... He really had.

Some alarm showed in Arthur's eyes, and then the adrenaline set in.

Maybe he had needed this, too.

He darted aside, bringing his blade up to capture Zack's on the move back, knowing he was no match for the man's strength. And thus, pulling it back as soon as possible, swinging his sword at Zack's side.

Zack pivoted on his heel, ~~hitting the triangle button~~ bringing his sword up to block and offering Arthur a grin that... While it wasn't quite cocky, certainly spoke volumes about how much he was enjoying himself already, yes.

There was something ridiculously satisfying about the sound of metal on metal, to his ears.

That made two pairs of ears right here.

Arthur grinned back. It reached his eyes in a dangerous way, far past cocky and into an elemental kind of enjoyment.

He didn't pause, though. He struck again, for the shoulder this time, more to set the pace than to cause any damage.

And Zack parried that as well, before moving backward a few steps and swinging again.

If there was any one thing that Zack had learned from sparring Deadpool (aside from the very important 'make certain that you do not get kicked between the legs' lesson), it was that his sword had reach, and that he would do well to make use of that.

By swinging sideways at Arthur's side, yes.

... Well, now. Zack had gotten a bit handier in their time apart, hadn't he?

Arthur swung his sword over to block, already well aware he wasn't strong enough to hold it, and ducked instead-- underneath Zack's blade.

And struck at his knees as soon as he had the chance.

"Oop, knees!"

Zack kinda needed those. He was sort of fond of them, and they were handy for things like 'standing up' and 'walking.'

And also, for squats, without which Zack would be a very sad puppy, indeed.

And so he was dancing off to the side, bringing his sword down and backwards as he went, not to block- if he did get cut from the distance he'd moved to, the wound would only be superficial anyhow (and it was, and he'd take a potion for that later)- but intent on giving Arthur a solid thump with the flat of his blade, if he was still anywhere within reach.

A thump it was, and Arthur staggered forward a few steps before he twisted 'round, grin pasted on in full force. Oh, yes.

This was good.

Improvement was kinda awesome, wasn't it? Zack's own grin was an almost giddy mirror of Arthur's, and he was giving his sword another twirl for good measure while he turned to face Arthur again, nodding.

"Your turn."

"Oh, you're telling me now?"

Arthur didn't waste another second before darting forward, banking on unpredictability as much as anything else. His aim was for Zack's knees again, not because he thought he'd hit, but because it wasn't as obvious a target.

As per usual, his moves were very, very precise.

That was a good call on Arthur's part, yes. Zack hadn't been expecting him to go for the same spot twice in a row, and it was pretty much all that he could do to manage a roll out of the way that came more-or-less in the shape of a somersault over Arthur's sword, and ended in a skid and a jump to his feet.

"Okay, that was nice," he decided. And then proceeded to add it to his mental inventory of 'things to try on Genesis Copies and Wutaian Remnants.'

So far, it was not a terribly long list.

Anything to help with strategy.

Arthur was running, anyway, not taking a moment to be distracted by his words. Instead, he struck out at Zack's side as soon as he came close, fully prepared for it to be parried.

And parried it was, as Zack turned into the swing sword-first, and he took a moment to grin a little wider. Just to grin. Grinning was important, here.

And from there, he was going to just shove, planting his heels against the floor and pushing his sword hard against Arthur's.

It wouldn't be a spar between the two of them without a lot of joy to go around, would it?

Pushing back, knowing he was going to lose this if it kept to a match of strength, Arthur mostly focused on tilting-- just so-- and then letting it slide past again, slamming his elbow up hard at Zack's face.

He had definitely gotten better.

Zack would have been a very silly boy indeed to not react at all to an incoming elbow. But getting out of the way would be difficult from this current position, and so the best that he was going to be able to manage was to clench his teeth, hard, and turn his head to keep his faceout of harm's way.

It meant a solid clock to the side of his lower jaw, and that was going to leave a bruise, but Zack happened to be very good at shrugging off bruises.

He was also very good at holding his sword one-handed, and that was now a fist headed for Arthur's face.

Fair was only fair, right?

Fair was fair was Arthur gaining a matching bruise on his cheek. His grin shifted a few notches into something darker, sharper; this, now, was good practice, against an opponent of Zack's strength.

His mind was a little rattled by the force of it, actually, but he knew better than to give into it as he moved along fluidly, driving the hilt of his sword down into Zack's stomach now that he still had the range to do so.

His ears were probably going to be ringing for a while yet.

Zack would have been something of an idiot to go into a serious spar without wearing his armor, and the armor that he happened to be wearing included that leather girdle to go with his overabundance of belts. Sure, he felt the blow, but it wasn't going to wreak complete havoc on his innards, either.

He gave a sharp exhale, and then twisted, swinging out a foot toward Arthur's knee.

Finally, at least, Arthur had the consciousness of mind to move out of the way. It meant he'd lost his close range on Zack, but at least it also meant his knee was still in action.

Zack might have to spare him a potion, after.

He fell back, sliding gracefully back into a defense position.

Zack was just more than a little thrilled when he realized that Arthur had dodged, meaning that there was some distance between the two of them again. It was always at close range that Arthur seemed to be able to best him, be it with a sweep of the leg or a good shove, and now that they'd lost that proximity, Zack was hell-bent on keeping it that way.

He grinned, and swung outward and across again, his sword at arm's length, aiming to strike not at Arthur, but at Arthur's sword.

Hard.

Longer range.

That meant Arthur's only asset against Zack's sheer muscle-power was speed and frequency. He couldn't linger too long on individual strikes. And he certainly couldn't afford to be caught in another strength-for-strength, sword-for-sword matchup.

Zack had reach.

Arthur had ducking.

And then slashing out, a short, smooth line up to where he hoped the hilt of Zack's sword, and the length of Zack's fingers would be.

Hey! Zack was using those fingers!

The best that he could manage in the face of an attack like that was a quick jerk of his arm back toward himself, which hurt his balance some and had him skipping back a few steps in order to keep from landing on his rear.

He was also hell-bent on not winding up on his rear, today, damn it.

Another quick bounce in place, and then he was throwing himself forward again. If he was up against that speed, then he was going to focus on his own strength and agility. Instead of swinging his sword out at Arthur, he was simply going to jump over him, twisting and righting himself mid-air before swinging the pommel of his own sword toward what was hopefully still the back of Arthur's head by the time he'd landed.

... Getting struck by that would have quickly disabled Arthur, but he knew that so instinctively the words didn't even form before he was moving. The twitch of muscle in Zack's leg meant that he was jumping, impossibly so, and twelve months ago he would have just stood there and stared blankly into thin air while the man took him out of commission.

He'd fought a lot of things since.

The pommel of Zack's sword wound up hitting air and a few too many stray hairs on Arthur's head than he was really comfortable with.

Arthur struck without looking, going by the sense of a presence behind him, swinging his sword that way in an arc that was more than violent. Shit.

Zack, finding himself not particularly in the mood to be cleaved in two today, and with his sword completely away in the wrong direction to block this particular swing, did the next best thing he could manage.

He let go of his sword with both hands and made a two-handed grab at the arm that was holding Arthur's, wide eyed. Disarmed was better than dead today, please.

Arthur halted his swing. Partly because of the hands on his arm, partly because he wasn't actually planning on cleaving anyone in half today, either.

So he stopped. And then tried to pull smoothly out of Zack's grasp in order to fall back.

Zack was going to let him, ducking low and fast in order to collect his own sword before putting some more distance between them, still.

"That was a good swing," he offered. Because, in the face of a disarm-or-die scenario, there was a very good chance that on the field, he wouldn't have been nearly lucky enough to be able to share this fact.

Edited 2010-03-13 13:18 (UTC)

"Next time, use your elbow," Arthur said, disregarding the compliment. Zack had gotten too close to taking him out as it was - he wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than victory to start with. "Or something similar. Using your sword like that leaves you open for a faster opponent to make use of your lack of defense."

He gave his sword the customary swing, and settled back into stance. Again.

Zack tilted his head a little, absorbing that tidbit of information. Elbow. Good. Okay. He could do that.

Angeal would have told him the same, he imagined.

He gave a short, quick nod, shifting into stance as well. This time, his own guard was up notably more than usual. Nobody was going to show up out of the blue to bail him out if he got cocky, anymore. He had to get this, or what good was he as a SOLDIER?

If Arthur were the kind to be completely honest, he would've pointed out that Zack was good enough by now that he'd have been proud to let him join the ranks of his knights, but that was too benevolent a thing for him to admit.

He had other business, regardless.

This time, he was the one who attacked first, striking up then down, unwilling to let it turn into a battle of strength by picking up frequency of slashes rather than letting them linger.

Zack's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration now, and he put all of his focus into not getting hit. He had no doubt that Arthur could throw more attacks, and faster, but he was also slowly twigging on to the fact that, provided he didn't end up on his behind again, he could go on almost indefinitely. SOLDIER were made to not tire out.

He blocked, grinned, and blocked again. If he had his way now, this would turn into a match to see how long they could keep going, as opposed to a spar to see who would end up on their behind first.

Considering that Arthur's primary motivation had been to get Zack's attention off the weekend and onto more important measures, he had technically already won. So to speak.

Just not, you know, in any way he was completely content with.

He was starting to feel some minor wear and tear, but that was normal. Knowing Zack, he'd wind up making a mistake at some point, which meant Arthur just had to hope that would happen before his arms gave out.

Again, knowing Zack, that was probable.

High one towards Zack's upper arm. Low slash towards the thigh.

Upper arm, blocked. And then Zack was circling around with his sword to smash Arthur's second swing out of the way with as much power as he could muster.

From there, he would lift his leg, throwing the bottom of his foot forward toward Arthur's gut.

Once again, he wanted that distance. He had the reach, here, and while he doubted that Arthur was ever going to let him keep it, any moments where he could sneak it in were all the better for him.

Edited 2010-03-13 16:08 (UTC)

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The Salle, Thursday After Classes

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