fandomhighdorms | The Salle | Afternoon | Sunday

Current Mood: annoyed

Entry tags:

The Salle | Afternoon | Sunday | August 29

Percy had found the salle. Unsurprisingly, he'd been looking for an easy way to let off some steam from yesterday and this place seemed close enough to the arena at Camp Half Blood that it would work.

He pulled Riptide from his pocket, watching it change from ballpoint pen to celestial bronze sword in his hands. As soon as he took the first swing towards the practice dummies, he knew he needed more practice. He was slower than he wanted to be even if he was faster than almost anyone else.

If that anyone else was Luke, that is. Seeing him had been the biggest surprise and seeing him as a younger, happier version of him was the biggest shock of all. Luke was supposed to be evil. Luke was supposed to be Kronos' vessel. Luke wasn't supposed to be here.

When Nico di Angelo being older, stronger and wiser wasn't the biggest surprise of the last few days, something was wrong. Thinking of Nico just made his thoughts shift to him knowing the future and possibly knowing the outcome of the Great Prophecy. Knowing Nico wouldn't tell him just frustrated him more.

Percy decided he'd just take it all out on the dummies.

[Open, of course. And yes, Percy really does think THIS MUCH about his cousins. And yes, he is this much of a brat sometimes.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

For Wesley, it was one of those days when he just really wanted to play with some weapons. Especially when he was still in a supremely bad mood from the three weeks he'd spent with his father back in England. Since much of those three weeks consisted of his father demanding that they practice fencing together and subsequently criticizing each and every one of Wes' tactics, he could use a little extra practice.

So he grabbed one of his favorite swords and headed over to the salle.

"Oh," he said, spotting Percy. "Hello."

Nico asking him to give him lessons made Luke realize that he really needed to spend more time in the salle. He wasn't completely out of practice, he showed up a few days a week, but he wanted to get back in the habit of going in every day.

He wasn't completely surprised to see Percy there, but he made a point to not look entirely pleased to see him. "You need to be lighter on your feet."

Percy didn't immediately answer, too caught up in what he was doing. What he was doing was, of course, slashing Riptide through the air towards one dummy before ducking and using the hilt to jab into the dummy's stomach.

Combat at close range was one of the things he had to work on but he did stop his motion when he noticed Wesley.

"Hey," he said, giving him a little wave before wiping his brow. "Got the same idea as me?"

Well, there was a voice that could make him falter out of his rhythm and almost barrel right into a training dummy. Almost doing that in front of Luke of all people sucked.

Percy straightened up, Riptide as his side. "Yeah, maybe," he was comfortable enough admitting. It wasn't like that was obvious. "You been practicing?"

Wes stared. "That was quite impressive," he said as moderatedly as possible, which was basically as close as he was going to get to gushing.

"And yes, I thought I might come for a spot of training. But if you'd like the space, I could certainly come back later..."

"Of course," Luke said, his scar stretching across his face as he tried to not laugh at Percy faltering. His held sword was at his side, just your average one made of celestial bronze. "Couple times a week. But since Nico asked for lessons, I figured it wouldn't hurt to add in some more training."

"It's fine," Percy said, waving that off and leaned on Riptide while he caught his breath. "I just hadn't practiced in awhile and thought I should get back into it."

He didn't have anyone to train him anymore. No Luke, no Annabeth, no Chiron, no Quintus. It was strange doing this on his own.

"Nico asked you for lessons?" Percy asked, surprised. "You? Really?"

Okay, Luke was a great swordsman, better than Percy and Nico combined, but still. Nico also knew Luke in the future. Why couldn't he get past this as easy as his cousin?

"Really," he said. "He's a lot nicer than you are, for the record. You really wouldn't expect that from a son of Hades."

Percy glowered at Luke and shook his head, not understanding how he could be related to either Nico or Luke. Nico wasn't stupid, he knew that, and asking Luke for lessons just proved that.

"You gonna give him lessons?" he asked, not even commenting on how nice he was. He knew he'd been stupid yesterday and he'd probably do it again today if provoked.

"Sure, why wouldn't I? It was pretty much my job at camp," he said, swinging the sword in his hand around slightly. "Demigods need all the training they can get. Dangerous world out there."

Wesley nodded. "Yes, I always feel rather that way when I haven't practiced in a while as well. Well, would you like to - er - practice over here and then I'll move over there?" He gestured absently off to the side. "Or we could always - perhaps - we could, er, duel?"

He was a wee bit caught off guard. At the Watchers' Academy he'd become rather used to being the best swordsman there, and this Percy fellow looked, well, rather adept.

"You don't seem to be too concerned about that," Percy pointed out, shrugging a shoulder. "You're not even making offerings to the gods anymore. Looking for more danger?"

"Maybe," he said, shrugging his shoulder in return. "I'd rather fight than be trapped in camp for all eternity, reduced to fighting dummies all the time."

Percy gave Wesley's suggestion some thought. He hadn't really practiced his sword work against anyone in awhile and it probably would be good to have someone actually giving him a challenge.

"Are you good with a sword?" he wondered.

"And yet...you're here," Percy felt compelled to say. "You're on a small island in Maryland, in a place with me and some dummies. The only difference seems to be is this place isn't protected."

"I'm sixteen, dude, where do you expect me to go other than school?" he asked. "I've lived on the streets before, it's not fun. I figured this place was a good transition. It looks normal to you right now, but this place does keep you on your toes. And it has the benefit of being a blind spot for Olympus."

"I believe so," he said a wee bit pompously, puffing up a little. The swordsmanship thing was one of the few things he could be cocky about, so he was going to milk that. "I've been told I'm quite good, at any rate."

"I'm just trying to figure out how Olympus has a blind spot," he admitted with a shake of his head. He hadn't been able to move lately without some god or some monster finding him.

"That mean no visits from your dad?" Percy asked, well aware he was poking a sore subject but uncaring. "I didn't see too many places to send iris messages."

"So've I," Percy said cockily, twirling his sword a bit in his hand. Thankfully, he didn't drop it. That would have just been embarrassing. "I've spent about the last three years of my life training."

"I've been training since I was a child," Wes replied, trying and failing to avoid looking smug. "But you looked quite adept, so I suppose we should be roughly evenly-matched."

Maybe not so much, Wes.

He picked up the sword he'd brought with him and transferred it idly from hand to hand.

Percy thought about it for minute longer before he shrugged both shoulders. He didn't see the harm and he figured Riptide would work since he wasn't going to actively try and hurt Wesley.

"Why not?" he answered, nodding. "It's been awhile since I've had a practice spar. It might be more helpful than these dummies."

"I quite agree," Wes laughed. "The dummies don't do much but get themselves wounded, I'm afraid."

He unsheathed his sword and lay the scabbard on the ground. Then something occured to him, and he lamely introduced himself, "Oh. I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, by the way." He went to stick out a hand to shake and ended up dropping his sword onto the ground, almost hitting his foot. Ooh. Lame first impression, there, Wes.

"Percy Jackson," he answered, stifling his laughter but unable to suppress an amused smile. "You sure you've handled a sword before?"

And he couldn't really help that quip either.

"Quite sure, thank you," said Wesley primly. "It may be said that I'm not the most coordinated. Er, outside of a combat setting, naturally."

Actually, sometimes in a combat setting too. Shh.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 4

The Salle | Afternoon | Sunday | August 29

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject