Eleven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bearshermark) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
diatu2019-02-13 11:38 pm
bearshermark) wrote in diatu2019-02-13 11:38 pm
[OTA Log]!
Who: Eleven and you!
When: February, sometime!
Where: Various bits of the academy
What: Eleven trying really hard at things.
Class Schedule
[It's all new: the school, the uniforms, talk of classes and wildly casual displays of magic. What isn't new though, is once again being completely and utterly normal- or at least, as normal as a Sundered gets.
That feeling of other isn't new either.
But he's followed the rules, met with an adviser and expressed his interests. Now he waits like every other student for his schedule with the self-same nerves. ..Well, maybe he has a few more nerves because he's never been to school before, and by virtue of that, surrounded by scholarly sorts. But the girls at L'Academie had seemed happy to be there, so surely it can't be too bad.
When at last his schedule floats into his hands, his eyes instantly scan down the length of the sheet. Most of them are required courses due his House, but there it is- Forging. He turns a grin on the students in close proximity, suddenly eager to share schedules]
What classes are you taking?
First Class
[Eleven likens sitting in class to sitting in church. Only, rather than listening passively, they're apparently meant to be taking notes. Now, he can write his letters well enough, but many of the terms being used escape him, and the instructions quickly become too much to keep up with.
Within the first hour of instruction, his hand is already beginning to cramp and his notes feel too far behind to be of much use later. It's all he can do just to listen and try to follow the shifts in topic. By the time the professor finally asks a question and seems to expect an answer, he's practically cringing into his seat.]
..This is harder than I thought.
Sword Training
[It takes him awhile to find something suitable for it, but Eleven manages to find then drag a few straw dummies out of obscure storage to an open area to train on.
He probably should have figured they'd be able to move on their own, but he's still very surprised when one suddenly leaps to the side and his sword meets nothing but air. Past the initial shock of it however, excitement leaps in his chest and he follows up the swing with a sharp turn and very nearly hits it this time.
Eleven laughs and thrills in the challenge.
With only echoes of training to speak of, he's proficient but not terribly skilled and his form could definitely be better. It's also apparent that he's lacking something, as his left arm moves as though practiced, yet acts as little more than a counter-balance and support for two-handed strikes.
Though he fends them off for a little while, he starts to run into a bit of trouble shortly after the other dummies decide to gang up on him.]
When: February, sometime!
Where: Various bits of the academy
What: Eleven trying really hard at things.
Class Schedule
[It's all new: the school, the uniforms, talk of classes and wildly casual displays of magic. What isn't new though, is once again being completely and utterly normal- or at least, as normal as a Sundered gets.
That feeling of other isn't new either.
But he's followed the rules, met with an adviser and expressed his interests. Now he waits like every other student for his schedule with the self-same nerves. ..Well, maybe he has a few more nerves because he's never been to school before, and by virtue of that, surrounded by scholarly sorts. But the girls at L'Academie had seemed happy to be there, so surely it can't be too bad.
When at last his schedule floats into his hands, his eyes instantly scan down the length of the sheet. Most of them are required courses due his House, but there it is- Forging. He turns a grin on the students in close proximity, suddenly eager to share schedules]
What classes are you taking?
First Class
[Eleven likens sitting in class to sitting in church. Only, rather than listening passively, they're apparently meant to be taking notes. Now, he can write his letters well enough, but many of the terms being used escape him, and the instructions quickly become too much to keep up with.
Within the first hour of instruction, his hand is already beginning to cramp and his notes feel too far behind to be of much use later. It's all he can do just to listen and try to follow the shifts in topic. By the time the professor finally asks a question and seems to expect an answer, he's practically cringing into his seat.]
..This is harder than I thought.
Sword Training
[It takes him awhile to find something suitable for it, but Eleven manages to find then drag a few straw dummies out of obscure storage to an open area to train on.
He probably should have figured they'd be able to move on their own, but he's still very surprised when one suddenly leaps to the side and his sword meets nothing but air. Past the initial shock of it however, excitement leaps in his chest and he follows up the swing with a sharp turn and very nearly hits it this time.
Eleven laughs and thrills in the challenge.
With only echoes of training to speak of, he's proficient but not terribly skilled and his form could definitely be better. It's also apparent that he's lacking something, as his left arm moves as though practiced, yet acts as little more than a counter-balance and support for two-handed strikes.
Though he fends them off for a little while, he starts to run into a bit of trouble shortly after the other dummies decide to gang up on him.]
Swording
Gettin' in over your head, huh?
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He grinned at his new ally]
A little. I didn't realize they could coordinate like that and I'm not-
[Eleven twisted out of the way of a wooden arm swinging toward his shoulder]
Not used to.. being outnumbered.
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Maybe I shouldn't be helpin' ya, then! Gotta learn somehow!
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Sword held before him, he backs up to catch his breath and plan his next move. The dummies slowly converge on him]
How about.. some advice, then?
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[But what advice does he have to give? Everything he learned is just... instinctual, stuff he picked up from experience and practice. Never put it into words before...]
So don't leave openings, that's the first thing. Second is that you can't waste a ton of time on technique. You're making big broad movements, chances are they aren't gonna do a lot of damage, but you're zoning out your opponents, get it?
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I don't know what you mean by that.
[Of course he shouldn't leave openings, but that was easier said than done when he had one sword, two opponents, and no magic. Unless they separated, he'd have to attack them together- and in a way that wouldn't let either of them strike back before he could guard again..]
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[That's a trick Jecht had picked up while blitzing. Make sure you get an elbow or a heel into the water near you when the time's right, and make the tacklers think twice about what they're doing.]
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That is to say one goes down under the force of it, but the impact rolls up his shoulders and momentum doesn't carry through to the second. He drops to a knee and hisses to raise his blade up in time to avoid a blow, then rolls away again. When he stands this time, he's wincing and fighting an embarrassed flush]
That could have gone better.
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He nods and sizes up his opponent. One on one he's more comfortable with, and slides forward with confidence to meet it. The dummy goes down with a few swings.
Eleven buries his sword in the dirt to lean on and swipes an arm across his brow.]
..Thanks for your help.
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[Tiny though it is. But not everyone's built to whip a huge weapon around, either.] Used to fighting where you come from?
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Yes. ..Well, I started out on my own but gained companions as I travelled. We started to outnumber most packs of monsters we came across, so I didn't get much practice with fighting multiple opponents. I almost always had back-up at least.
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What sort of training do you practice? Since I've lost my magic, I've been thinking that maybe I should try to become stronger.
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Eleven sheathes his sword with a grin]
Well if that's all it takes, then I'll be fine.
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What if you've already lost once?
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[Jecht reaches one hand up to his neck, though, fingers rubbing at the broad muscles up there.]
'Course sometimes you're just fighting to stall the inevitable, and hope someone after ya can fix it.
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I guess you're right. As long as I'm alive, there's still a chance to win. Thank you, uh.. what did you say your name was?
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Mine is Eleven. Well met, Jecht.
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