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fandomhighdorms2014-01-05 11:38 am
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The Salle, Sunday Crack o'Dawn Until Well Into The Afternoon
You got used to certain things, in Jaeger Academy. Like getting up at five sharp and spending the next fourteen hours in the Kwoon, working your arse off. Chuck didn't have any instructors now, or any fellow students to practice against-- didn't matter. He'd been slacking for over a week now, waiting for this new school, and it was time to pick things back up again.
Even if he was nursing a minor hangover. In fact, the hangover helped pick up the right level of aggression - that level that he was unleashing on one of the poor practice dummies right now. Going through the forms, hitting at least half of the major ones. Keep going. Keep working at it.
When he got back to the Academy in summer, he had to be in the same shape as everyone else. It didn't matter he'd be forced to stick to a crazy island boarding school, or that his father seemed to have lost his goddamned mind-- he was gonna keep working for it.
Max sat in the corner of the room, his leash tied to one of the benches. Training or not, there was no way Chuck was letting the pup out of his sight.
[[ open! ]]
Even if he was nursing a minor hangover. In fact, the hangover helped pick up the right level of aggression - that level that he was unleashing on one of the poor practice dummies right now. Going through the forms, hitting at least half of the major ones. Keep going. Keep working at it.
When he got back to the Academy in summer, he had to be in the same shape as everyone else. It didn't matter he'd be forced to stick to a crazy island boarding school, or that his father seemed to have lost his goddamned mind-- he was gonna keep working for it.
Max sat in the corner of the room, his leash tied to one of the benches. Training or not, there was no way Chuck was letting the pup out of his sight.
[[ open! ]]
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That had the advantage of - however briefly - taking the brunt of his weight off his knees, too.
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She had a lot of things working for her advantage but the weight thing was not one of them, tall and not particularly petite though she was.
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And stopping hadn't worked out so well for him last time.
So, you know. No better way to try and finish a good brawl than with a full-body tackle.
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And then to try and kick up with a knee as soon as they were down, because like hell would a simple tackle finish this.
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And yes, she was not in the best position to do that to the best of her ability, but even un-Marked (apart from the runes that were permanent), Isabelle was freakishly strong for her build. Angelic blood and all.
It'd still hurt if it connected.
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It was a more sensitive end of the human body than most people gave it credit for, really.
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But it did annoy her enough to try for a punch at his jaw, now.
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Which was about the first thought that really smashed it home in Chuck's brain that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the smartest use of his time.
He grunted, pushing off and pulling away very suddenly.
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She raised her eyebrows and looked far too cheerful and smug for someone feeling a little out of breath and bruised. "Oh, are you done?"
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That comment was almost enough to make him forget about it again. But he'd stepped on-- yeah.
He reached down to pick up Isabelle's whip.
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There wasn't much he could do with or to it, anyway. The electrum wire it was primarily made of was Marked.
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Like he knew how to use a whip. He was just trying to save face.
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No, seriously, that was hilarious to her.
"No, you won't."
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Not because he was frightened-- he'd just rather have easily-reachable weapons at his back than the wall. "And you're employing this excellent range of talents by starting fights in the training room," he said.
Slow clapping.
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As opposed to yelling at her, or reporting her to the school administration.
"Granted, I was expecting you would, but you had other options available."
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Cough. To put it mildly.
Chuck didn't move this time. The sticks were right where he needed them to be now. "Somebody attacks me, I hit 'em back," he said. "Call me a traditionalist."
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"Or someone who's going to get himself killed," she noted, idly.
"Is that a threat?" he asked. "Or just wishful thinking? Because it's not gonna happen."
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It was a little bit counterproductive for her whole life's purpose, even!
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He didn't care if she wrote off the rest of the human race, mind.
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He'd dismissed the Shadow World as ren faire stuff. Clearly he was a mundane.
"Feistier than most, though, I'll give you that."
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