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.]
Re: Swords
The mannequins had ignored him right up until his hand made contact with the hilt of the dummy, when several of them snapped their heads in his direction. Fucking creepy...
"Hell yeah I can fight," he grins, ducking low to avoid wooden limbs being thrown in his direction, then jumping high and roundhousing one that tries to get in his way to Eleven.
It's not long before he's back to back with the kid, sword poised and ready to strike.
"Let's take 'em down, Elly!" He's grinning, ready for the fight.
no subject
Not to mention the comfort of having someone at his back even against a group of training dummies is unparalleled. He feels invincible and the rush is all the more potent for it- near to elation.
"Yeah!" Eleven leaps forward, grinning ear to ear as his sword makes contact under the 'arm' of one with enough force to topple it. Then he's turning on heel and driving the hilt into the padding of another. "One down!"
no subject
He darts forward, jabbing his sword point blank into a mannequin's torso with super-human strength and slashing it out wide into the next, blowing the two of them down easily. There's something animalistic in his stance, a little wild but controlled, at least for the moment.
"Highest count wins, Loser buys the sweets!"
no subject
This challenge is doable, he decides alongside a fierce streak of determination. It crackles under his skin and very nearly tempts him to try summoning lightning from the sky. But that would be cheating, if it worked.
Gripping his sword between his hands, Eleven sights his next target and charges.
"I hope you brought enough!"
no subject
perfectly good with him losing ;)
"Watch out- they get back up sometimes!" He doesn't know their exact threshold yet, but a good strong hit or two tends to do the trick.
Eleven throws himself into the challenge- perhaps a bit recklessly. He takes a few hits along the way, but they're worth it when he gets in close to knock them down for good. By the time they're all down, he's panting and a little bruised, but sporting a wide grin.
"Eight," he says finally, leaning on his sword and wiping sweat from his brow. "You?"
how about this?
Rin has a couple of bruises on his arms and his shirt sleeve is now missing, but oh well. He laughs at it and tosses the half he's holding in its general direction.
"I wouldn't call that decisive, so looks like it's a tie! Split the snacks?"
all good :)
"Well, all right," he decided after a moment spent mulling over the technicalities.
He swung his sword up and into its sheathe on his back. "But next time, I'll find a practice sword and we'll spar one on one."