WEST COAST SMOKER ; weekly task, fighting lessons

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]"Oh, joy," Suiteheart meowed as Genevieve padded up, "I was hoping you'd join us." It was no secret she was not terribly fond of Genny. The girl was a harbinger of bad things, and Suite could hardly believe she had once been something far, far worse than the likes of Genny. Still, the Ecliptic Admiral did love Gen. Gen was Margy and vice versa - without meaning to, she did care deeply for the other though it was in a different way than she cared for Margaery. "And yeah, I'd hate to screw up everything you've got going on, Gen. Since you're so talented an' all."

Her attention was then focused again on the group gathered. Once everyone had mastered the perfect stance for battle, she figured she out to drop them headfirst into something else. Sink or swim, you know? The girl was mulling over what to start with when Washington approached. Excitement bubbled up within her, for she had wanted to see him in action. At his words, she shrugged lightly. "Fair enough, Washington. Sad thing is even experienced fighters get themselves injured and killed all the time," she murmured, flicking her tail. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for teaching others to fight and defend themselves, but I'm not going to pressure anyone into doing something they're not comfortable with, you know?"

When Bastille arrived, she did crack a smile. He liked fighting a great deal, didn't he? She didn't even need to ask herself because, God, did she know. They were similar in that regard. Suiteheart always felt most alive on the field of battle: she enjoyed kicking ass and taking name. It was a hell of a stress reliever too. Her love of fighting was also the only reason she'd not ventured down the path of a medic. She felt Aerona stirring once more, almost pacing. Suite drowned her out. "Sounds good."

She surveyed their growing group, and then decided where she wanted to take this train next. "Alright, we've got enough to do some partner activities. Why doesn't everyone grab a partner, huh? Once we do that, we'll head on to the next step."

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

[color=#b14767]”Alright, love,” Genevieve began, forcing her voice to mimic the natural speech pattern of Margaery’s, [color=#b14767]”We’re partners in marriage, why don’t we partner up for this bloody lesson of yours? I know you love me.” She paused a moment, copper gaze scouring the group with only one intent: to antagonize an unlucky individual. At first, she contemplated shooting a sly comment in Bastilleprisoner’s direction, though she quickly shot that idea down, against it for some strange reason. Besides being the only one to stand up for her, he also didn’t strike her as very much fun to try and rile up. Hazel, on the other hand, was the perfect candidate for her particular brand of torment.

She studied the girl for a few moments, tail waving back and forth behind her. Just like a predator looked upon its prey, Genevieve searched Hazel’s being for any semblance of a weakness before realizing that it lie within her words. Her reluctance. [color=#b14767]”Too afraid to get your paws dirty, sugar? Or do you just not have anything that even resembles skill? Whatever the reason, it doesn’t make sense that you’re here,” She extended lazily, sheathing and unsheathing her claws. Margaery made a sound of protest in the back of her mind but she opted to ignore her, instead stealing a look in Suite’s direction. If it weren’t obvious before, she was trying to provoke her wife and cause a shift in power.

She wanted Aerona and honestly, Genevieve didn’t care who she had to hurt to get her.

Chuckling, she rolled her shoulders and easily shifted into the form of a mountain lion. [color=#b14767]”Maybe one day, you’ll stop being such a coward and actually try to learn something valuable. I’d like to see you paint away your enemies on the battlefield,” She continued effortlessly, unbothered by the cruel words that tumbled from her lips.

[color=#b14767]”Genevieve, stop.” The voice was undoubtedly Margaery’s, copper eyes flashing gray as she struggled to the surface for but a second only to be forced back down by Genny. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to let go yet. [color=#b14767]”Now, now, enough of that. I’m eager to get started.”

[arcy]

♡ Even with whatever conversations were going on around him, Caboose was trying really really hard not to pay attention to. Which was hard. 'Cause his attention kept on being dragged away. Caboose had pretty much set to trying to copy the pose the instant Suiteheart had explained it. He'd paused to take it in, of course, but otherwise he was trying. And then he got confused. Lower balance? Something or another? He didn't have a clue what he was doing. So, yeah, he was kind of sort of very stuck for a long few minutes. After a lot of stumbling and looking at people in absolute puzzlement he kind of sort of got it though. Like ... very loosely got it. Caboose wasn't the greatest in larger training sessions, see -- not that he knew that, nor cared.
"Partners?" Caboose echoes, head tilting. His head is very, very muddled and he is very, very confused. However, gradually, Caboose understands, and perks up. Partners!! To work with! Caboose doesn't know anybody else, though the Golden Retriever, after the many moments spent trying to make sense of what was going on, instantly spins to approach Church, beaming. Meanwhile there's noises in the background that Caboose just. Doesn't get. People are being loud and talking a lot. Caboose isn't sure why. Oh well. "Church!! Chuurrch!!" Having basically already forgotten the word 'partners', Caboose instead just bounces over to pester the Collie and hope that the other understands. Church could explain what was going on for him!! Not that it'd work very well. Caboose generally didn't understand what other people were telling him like ... uh. Um. .. He's. Not sure. Anyways!!
//haha so rushed im dying

[BASTILLEPAW]

I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD

Bastille didn't bother to return Suiteheart's smile, but he had a feeling she wasn't really expecting him to. He'd kept a wide breadth of her in general, incapable of avoiding her completely but doing his damned best to keep her at a distance; he might speak to her out of necessity, but that was it. She got no humor, no additional attention, no warmth from him, and perhaps he was stubborn but so was she, evidently, if she took no interest in fixing the rift. All he needed from her was to be a good Admiral and to take care of the group once she finally stabbed him in the back, and he had that. She was otherwise nothing to him.

He rolled his eyes as he caught the distaste shifting between her and Gen, and ignored them as he opted for eyeing his choices in partners. His attention alighted on Roy, and there was a hint of a smirk there as he realized that he never actually got to try him out for a spar. Sure, they both seemed to be fans of training, and Roy certainly shared his views on pacifism, but Bast only ever got to see him practice from the outside. What was the fun in that? "Roy," he drawled, jerking his head slightly in an indication that he join him. Wash would be an interesting match, too, but he'd probably call him "sir" in response and get all tensed up, which was... to be avoided. Desperately. Roy didn't respect him in the slightest, which was significantly less horrifying to deal with.

His attention was torn away by Gen, however, and he tensed the second he realized who her attention had fixed on. There was a split second of processing before he was between the two, as if Gen might make a physical advance even if Bast knew logically that it was unlikely. He couldn't help it, though -- his first inclination would always be to defend Hazel, and he could feel the distress starting to filter through their bond in degrees; he didn't have to look over his shoulder at her to know the words were going to hit and hit hard.

And there was anger there, brewing violently in his veins -- he could feel the flames of it crackling in his blood, his paws heating up against the ground as he struggled to rein it back, to hold his temper in check. Because how fucking dare she, but also, who was he to judge? He knew exactly how hard Margy might be fighting against herself just then, and he grit his teeth hard as he glared at Gen evenly. Keep it in check, keep it in check. He was no better than her, not when it came down to it, and what he'd said to Margy was probably worse than this.

"Don't say anything Margy is going to regret, Gen," he finally breathed out lowly, despite the fact that he wanted to spit that she already had, "Fighting doesn't prove worth, and neither does tearing everyone else down. Hazel doesn't have to try it yet if she's not ready, and you don't need to comment on it." He pushed back hard against the nasty flare in his gut, the temptation to lash out in response, and reminded himself that it was still Margy. That it wasn't her fault, not really, and yelling at her would only make shit worse. He didn't dare to glance at Hazel because he was certain that if she saw her face he'd lose it.

[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS

[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]As more people started to file in, Church glanced around at all the new faces, quickly noticing Washington's arrival. It was hard not to, since he stuck out with his armor. But he and Caboose probably did, too, considering their helmets. Why were they even wearing them still? Who knew. Anyways, he found himself vaguely agreeing with his points. Even if someone wasn't good at fighting, it was at least better than not trying and getting your ass kicked. But some people--like himself--were just too lazy to really sit and learn about combat stuff.

His attention was settled back on Suite as she spoke, nodding at her instructions. He lowers himself slightly, trying to mimic her stance but failing as he wavers, bobbing side to side as he struggles to keep his balance. He grumbles under his breath in frustration and is thankful when they move on to sparring. Eager to face off with someone, his excitement is quickly dashed out when he realizes everyone here could probably beat him easily, whether it be with skill or a bigger size. Damn.

The canine's head turns as his name is being called, quickly recognizing the voice and groaning. Though, he realized that this could probably be a good way to release all his frustration towards the kid, so he quickly straightened up. He had been waiting for a good opportunity to rough him up. "Fine, I'll partner up with you, Caboose," he says, even though he's not sure whether or not he'll understand what he's talking about.

"SPEECH"

[★ HAZEL]

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★  I NEVER HAD NOBODY TOUCH ME LIKE I’M G L A S S WITH A MOON BIRD KISS

Hazel knew she was in for a real treat the moment Genevieve turned those eerie optics her way. She could see the change — the glint of sudden interest — in her aura, and felt it sink into her bones as cold hard dread. The girl in her brain was already dripping with anticipation, biting her tongue and waiting on the edge of her seat to sneer at Hazel like a mirror of Gen.

Hazel’s eyes, saucer wide as Gen sauntered her way, glistened with unshed tears far quicker than she would have liked. This was too sensitive a subject; it struck a nerve too close to locked memories. Too close to something Hazel was just waiting to prove to herself, knowing that she was weak and useless and of fucking course it didn’t make any sense for her to be there —

Just a walking liability, Leered the girl, giddy. Just a petty little princess too afraid that Mommy’s going to come get her because she was too weak to stand up for herself. And god, Hazel could feel the guilt crawl down her spine; could feel it sink down low as Gen ripped her apart, exposing the deepest little bits of reason for self-loathing. Because one day? Ha. Hazel was pretty sure that one day wouldn’t ever arrive, and she’d be stuck, dancing the same dance in the same shoes because Genevieve was right, she was just a coward who watched and didn’t deserve to have anything here.

Bastille’s surge of anger caught her off guard, and she startled, distraught golden gaze ripping itself away from Genevieve’s bored, emotionless stare. There it was again — that inability to stand up for herself; the crippling pressure of associating everything cynical and aimed at her as if it came from Mother’s lips.

“It’s fine,” Hazel finally managed, realizing that they were about to make a major scene where one was unnecessary. “Don’t worry about it. She’s right.” She wouldn’t pretend her voice wasn’t shaking, wouldn’t pretend that her heart was dripping with the ice that was knowing everyone saw her as useless, too.

Awe — is baby gonna go sit in a corner, now? teased the voice. Are you gonna go lick your wounds and feel sorry for yourself? Hazel didn’t try to stop the girl as she eased herself from the scene, ducking out without a second glance so people wouldn’t miss what didn’t matter.

★ — hazel — "speech" — eight months — the ascendants — tags — ★

[sup]c) miithers[/sup]