capeandcowllogs | wow i can't think of anything clever

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wow i can't think of anything clever

WHO: Kurt Wagner and Scathach
WHERE: The Institute's gym or something.
WHEN: Evening of June 14th??
WARNINGS: Probably not!
SUMMARY: Fencing and feelings jam somehow.
FORMAT: w/e man

Kurt was already dressed for the fine sport of fencing, with his mask tucked under one arm and his foil held in his tail. He gave Scatty a little bow in greeting, theatrical as he tended to be, and grinned. True, he taught fencing and hosted a club for the students, but it was a little more rare to spend time with somebody he could truly compete against. He hadn't spent time with Scathach as a friend in an age, he felt, which was a shame.

"I thank you for wasting your Friday on little ol' me," he started, extending a hand to her. "You are well?"

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The fencing uniform is familiar. Not quite true armor, but close enough for her to feel comfortable. His bow is returned, though she's much more formal about it. Old habits die hard, and all. Her teacher would be proud. The redhead takes his hand, smiling. "It isn't a waste at all. And I am. Looking forward to prom, I suppose. And yourself?"

Kurt gives her her hand a small, friendly shake and a squeeze, smile turning thoughtful as the question is returned to him. "I suppose I am looking forward to it, as well. Of course, I worry about... Mischief, at best."

Sometimes, responsibility makes him nervous. He still hasn't quite fully settled into being one of the school's Headmaster's, despite the length of time that he's been in the position. Leading a super-team was one thing, and he was sure he was never the X-men nor Excalibur's most capable leader, being in charge of children, however... It was nerve-wracking at times. He wasn't sure how Hank or Angelica managed it so cheerfully.

But that wasn't much for polite conversation, hm? Aside, it was borderline paranoia. He shrugged, reaching into his helmet to fetch his glove. "I am sure it will be fine. The decor is going to be phenomenal. And the food. If nothing else, we know how to throw a hell of a party."

Even though she had run her own school for centuries, Scathach didn't think she could handle the Institute. Not because of the number of students, but because of the number of students with special abilities. It was easy enough to keep track of just one when you were training them personally, but an entire group of them? That might have been beyond even her expertise.

And honestly, paranoia is how Scatty lives a good part of her life. There's a reason she's survived so long.

"We certainly do." She dons her mask, adjusting it so she can properly see. "The Institute's prom is always the talk of the import community. Good publicity for the school, generally."

"Generally," Kurt grouses, just a bit, as he slips his own mask on. He passes his foil from his tail to his right hand and moves to the starting point that he's mapped out on the edge of the gym floor. That was enough grump and worry for the moment, then. He lifted his faux-sword in salute, "Best fortunes, dear lady."

She follows, nodding to herself at his comment. To be honest, he was right--the Institute's reputation had fluctuated during her time in the City. Mostly it depended on the City's sentiments towards imports at a particular time, but there was also the occasional misfire when it came to school-hosted events. The redhead returns his salute before flipping her foil into the air, catching it as she assumes a stance. "And to you, good sir."

The extra bit with her foil is a cute trick, and Kurt smiles for it behind his mask as he sinks into position. He was an eternal fan of showmanship, after all. It also helped to indicate that Scatty was his sort of fencing opponent, in it for the potential over-the-top scenes rather than keeping to the basic rules of the sport.

It didn't mean he couldn't start out simple enough. He hadn't faced Scatty in a good bit, and some re-aquainting with her style might be necessary. So, for now, it's a simple advance and a lunge, eyes looking for the counter-move.

Sometimes Scatty just wants to show off a little. But she's promised herself she won't be too strong or fast for a normal person her size. Just a little bit to keep up with Kurt.

It's a shame for him that Scatty has never really had her own style--that was the problem with helping to invent and inspire so many. Settling on one was incredibly difficult. But for Kurt, she'll stay relatively simple to start. The counter is smooth, just a step and a quick movement of her wrist. She smiles behind her mask, knowing he can't rightly see it. He'll have to do better than that to test her.

He smiles as well, under the same circumstances of non-visibility. Scatty's moves are always admirably fluid and minimal. As somebody who always strives for grace in fighting, being a horrendous show-off himself, there's something satisfying in knowing that this is one stylish-looking match.

He continues on the offensive, then, realigning his foil towards its target and moving forward again into a series of lunges, knowing full well that he'll have to be pushed back if he doesn't get a hit. He's focused, then, on his footwork and recovery, ready to move in another direction when prompted.

To start, she remains on the defensive. Scathach moves back, ducks, and parries when necessary. She's trained for a long time to purposely be able to dull her reflexes and sense for times such as this, and she can feel herself losing ground quickly. With one last parry she switches to an offensive stance, and begins to push him back.

There we go! Kurt lets out a quick laugh and begins the necessary footwork for back-tracking. It's all fairly light, for the moment, but he knows he'll have to pull something spectacular off to get the best of her.

That was the slight bummer about fighting Scatty. She was supernaturally good in speed and had been doing this way longer than he had. She'd likely be wearing kit gloves the entirety of the match, which... Sparks both curiosity (how would she fight, uninhibited) and a call to his secret ego (maybe he could beat her, anyway). But that is neither here nor there. He'd focus on now, which is parrying and waiting for the space to lunge again.

But he doesn't pull himself adequately from distraction; let's blame it on that. He misses a beat, turns out too much, and her foil hits his right side. "Ach!"

Once he gives her an opportunity, she takes it without even thinking--and she can't help but be satisfied when the foil connects with him. If he were anyone else she wouldn't feel bad, but Kurt is a friend. She doesn't want to fight him unfairly. But she doesn't apologize, simply pulls back and smiles behind her mask. "Point. Good run, though."

"I try," he answers, tone playfully sore. He's smiling in return, however, taking a moment to breath and loosen up again before returning to the start position. If at first you don't succeed, after all...

And by the time he'd tried again, for a few more rounds, he came up even enough to satisfy. He'd had fun and gotten a proper workout, which was the point of the entire thing. When they decide to break, he pulls his mask off and reaches up to shake out his hair, sweat and the mask having stuck it to his head.

"And to think I wished you good luck. I should've kept it."

For her part, Scathach finds the exercise incredibly refreshing. Kurt has quite a bit of skill, and it's obvious that he's trained to refine that. And if there's one thing Scatty admires, it's dedication.

As he takes off his mask, she does as well. There's not a drop of sweat to be seen on her, though her cropped hair is more ruffled than it was before. What, vampires don't sweat. His comment makes her laugh, head thrown back and teeth visible. "I would give it back if I could. I'm not one to rely on luck." Maybe not rely, but it certainly comes in handy.

"I try to avoid it, but I'm sure dumb luck is how I've survived half of everything."

Which is true. He's been in some daring situations and made it out by the width of a hair, more than once. He won't even get into the idea that he, right now, is still surviving past his own death. He's still not sure that's luck, most days.

He reaches his bag, tucking his foil, mask, and glove inside before undoing his jacket and putting it aside similarly. He withdraws a gym towel and two bottles of water, offering one to Scatty. He's not sure if vampires get dehydrated, but better safe than sorry. He drinks before wiping his face and running the towel over his hair. Fur was murder for hot weather and workouts; he's admittedly a little jealous that she remains so clean.

"I don't suppose you mind the weather, hm?"

Though she doesn't like water much at all, she does still drink it on occasion. And since Kurt has been so kind as to provide, she will very carefully drink some. It doesn't do much for her (her nutritional requirements are vastly different from humans and apparently some mutants), but it's the thought that counts. And she's making an effort for him, which she does for so few people.

A small smile cracks her face as she twists the cap back on the bottle. "It isn't heat that gets me, it's humidity. I can't stand when things are... sticky."

"It certainly doesn't help."

He always felt like he couldn't get clean, in weather like this, like he was constantly supporting a sweaty coating. Gross stuff. He wrinkles his nose at the thought, finishing his water quickly. His mind is stuck, for a moment, on where to proceed conversation-wise. He's in an awkward period of time, he thinks, in which he has nothing to say save for things in subjects he's unsure of how to broach. The latter, of course, is not something for a visit like this. It is meant to be light.

"Apart from the prom, then, is there any news where you are concerned? We have not talked for a little bit, all of this occasional chaos with world-switching and the like."

She understands awkwardness when she sees (and senses) it. But Scathach herself isn't entirely socially adept--the world and its ideas of socially acceptable behavior change so quickly to her. And there always seems to be so little time to catch up. So instead of supplying conversation herself, she stands there rather lamely, taking another sip of water, hoping Kurt will know where to go from here.

Luckily, he does. Her brow creases, she turns the closed bottle over in her hands. "I don't like it, for one. Jumping dimensions once against my will was one thing, but twice or more? It isn't natural." Because dimension-jumping can be natural at all. "It needs to be stopped."

"As someone who's jumped dimensions more than a couple of times, I have to agree," he answers. A smile comes up in spite of the seriousness of the matter, because it takes his mind back to those moments in his past. It's the good bits that he remembers instantly, the oddness of the worlds beyond the Well at the Center of Time and the camaraderie of Excalibur's 'Cross-Time Caper.' The situation here, however, is a different one altogether.

"They've so far been less-than-hospitable, in one way or another, and Vulcanus sealed the fate of one of the two. Things can only get more elaborate from here."

Very few of the dimensions Scathach had visited were nice. Terribly hot or cold, far too bright or drenched in darkness--shadowrealms generally operated on extremes. Earth was certainly one of the most mild of them.

She rubs at her temples, as if she can already feel the headache all of this is going to cause, probably in the near future. "Just what we need." At least Kurt makes it easy to joke, even when things seem to be getting dire.

"Oh, yes." He smiles, though he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his own in a gesture similar to hers, as if he can sense the impending mess. Joking is, of course, right in line with how he deals with such things. She is right on that front, and he moves smoothly into the pick-up. "I know all I needed in life was a little more potential trauma. I haven't really been pushing my ability to recover from that sort of thing lately, you know."

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wow i can't think of anything clever

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/conveniently skips ahead?

works for me

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