voice, @TARANTO

[heavyhitter]

So we got a buncha old fashioned guys who are used to swinging around swords all the time and stuff, right? It seems like it, I can't go 20 feet without tripping over someone that's never seen a minipad before. God, would it kill that rift stuff to start taking more people from the modern era?

Anyway, point is I need one of you guys — or, hell, a buncha you guys — to start teaching. I've got some students in mind, foremost being me, because the training room here doesn't cut it if you've never even seen a fucking sword before. And if anyone else sucks at medieval stuff too lemme know, we'll make it a whole party.

Achilles and Koltira, you guys are my top medieval guys that know what you're doing, don't you fucking ignore this.

[ a beat ]

Also, I've got this little super strength issue where I might break any weapons I try and use, so... there's that, too. Still working on that obstacle. Any ideas, lemme know.


[ ooc: here's a planning post for teaching stuff!! ]

Comments

[heavyhitter]

Come on, that wasn't fighting, that was us throwing a shitty little imp around like dumbasses. Freak accident. And I bet if you had training, even a little, you'd be better for it next time.

[evantuality]

Ramir, that was literally the closest to fighting I've ever done, I mean seriously, I'm a computer sciences major. My sister is scarier than I am.

I have very little interest in making an ass of myself for an audience.

[heavyhitter]

So private lessons. Come on, it's fucking stupid not to prepare yourself just because you've never done it before and you don't wanna look dumb. You'll look way more dumb when next time something takes a chunk out of your brain, not just your eye, trust me.

[evantuality]

Ugh.

[She's right and he doesn't want to admit it. Learning to fight sounds terrifying.]

If I agree to this you cannot laugh at me, or I'll, I don't even fucking know. I'll leave frog eggs in your shoes.

[heavyhitter]

That sounds like a euphemism. If it is, I think I'm into it. But, either way, no laughing. Promise.

[evantuality]

Well it wasn't before, but it might be now.

Ugh. When are these ridiculous lessons going to be happening?

[heavyhitter]

I dunno, soon. Tomorrow? Day after, if we get lazy? Why, got an important date to keep?

[evantuality]

Ironically, yes, with a very shiny man and a small girl.

I'm going to get my goddamn eye back tomorrow, finally. I'll be down for the count for... hell, I'm not even sure for how long. Laedo said maybe several days.

[heavyhitter]

Oh shit, really? Nice! What's the several days for, eye growth? You can't do that up and about?

[evantuality]

I think it's like... for afterwards?

I don't know what kind of optometrists you have in the future, but do you still have that thing where they put drops in your eyes to dilate them, and then for the rest of the afternoon you have to wear sunglasses and stumble around and squint at anything brighter than a candle? I get the sense that it'll be something like that, but, you know... more.

I think I'm gonna be staying in my room a lot. I'm supposed to wear the patch on and off for the first couple of days it's back.

[heavyhitter]

[ okay, that gets a laugh ]

Sounds fucking archaic. Anyway, whatever, I'll bring you stuff. Magazines and ice cream, or something.

[evantuality]

Oh, you will be my hero. Snatch me from a fate worse than death.

Apparently for the first day, reading small text is liable to give me the mother of all headaches. I'm going to be bored out of my little mind. Come, distract me, it will get you so many brownie points.

[heavyhitter]

Hell yeah, I'm on it. Maybe without magazines. Then again — wait, you didn't have minipads yet, did you?

[evantuality]

Not, like, under that name. We've got tablets and phones and like... six million devices in the size range in between. And I think someone's recently put out a flexible screen, so. I mean, you are talking about -- [he gestures, making a little square with his hands --] little portable computing devices, right?

[heavyhitter]

Yeah, basically. Minipad's pretty much anything you want. Except there's no fucking network here outside of this bullshit jewelry stuff, so all the stuff I got downloaded on mine is all the stuff I got. It sucks.

But I've got some mindless reading material, text as big as you want it and screen as dim as you can read it.

[evantuality]

How mindless are we talking, here? Trashy romance novel or sci-fi pulp fiction?

[heavyhitter]

You think I wouldn't have either of those? Take your fuckin' pick.

Anyway, I'll let you dig through it when I stop by, sound good?

[evantuality]

Oh, but romance novels lose something when they don't have pages and don't automatically flop open to the first sex scene.

I suppose I'll manage with hacky sci-fi. Or maybe if you have some Miss Marple. Yeah, that sounds good; apparently this thing will take place tomorrow in the a.m. sometime. Maybe don't come round till dinnertime in case I'm a total embarrassing mess at first.

[heavyhitter]

Zero Miss Marple [ what the fuck is that ] and don't worry, you can't embarrass yourself much more to me than you have already.

Anyway, see you soon.

[evantuality]

Oh, Ramir, you are just so good for the ego. Just a salve for the soul.

See you, then.

[He'll hang up on his end of the network then, aware -- and grudgingly, irritatingly amused -- that somehow he's allowed himself to be roped into weapons training. Good christ.

Ah, at least he'll have someone to keep him company while he's... well, however convalescent he'll be tomorrow.]

[heavyhitter]

[ And, as promised, she's there the following evening. Best not ask how she figured out where to go, the answer won't be a good one. Her knock on the door is loud and demanding, and really leaves very little question as to who it could be on the other side.

But just in case he doesn't get the picture: ]

Hey, it's me! Lemme in.

[evantuality]

[She's answered by a yeti-groan of exasperation from beyond the door. Evan had already been up and coming to open it when she'd hollered.] Hang on.

[A moment later he yanks the door open halfway and steps back. The curtain is drawn, the lights are all off except the one on his desk, which is pointed low at his desk so there isn't much glare to speak of. The little hearth his chosen room has has a fire in it, but again, it's low.

And Evan is still wearing his eyepatch. With even his good eye squinting at the glare from the hallway, he beckons her in.]

Close the door behind you?

[heavyhitter]

[ She obligingly steps in and nudges the door shut behind her with the toe of a boot, attention all on Evan. He still looks pretty much like shit, but she's used to that. She's been seeing him looking like shit for a while. ]

Hey. [ It's a little softer than the trumpeting entrance. ] How're you doing?

[evantuality]

[Relief once the door is closed makes Evan stand a bit straighter. The mostly-dark room might or might not have been overkill, but it was making him feel better about easing into his recovery and even if the photophobic headaches would go away, they were kind of taxing.

Ramir's question, though, that actually makes him grin. Instead of answering, he reaches up and moves his patch, slipping it upwards for a moment.

The skin around his eye socket and up his forehead, that had been marred with claws-marks, is smooth and whole again. More notably, from behind his newly-whole -- if deeply squinted -- eyelids, a slim sliver of eye can be seen.]

I've been worse. [There's a simmer of merriment behind his subdued manner that spikes for a moment as he says that. He lets the patch slip back into place.]

[heavyhitter]

[ She's quick to study the sight as soon as it's offered, and — huh. No as bad as expected. She even smiles a little, relieved to see that it's looking more intact and... well, human again. ]

Yeah, you're fine. [ She reaches to pat his forearm, and from there uses it to give a little push back towards the main of the room. Where ever he wants to sit them down is fine by her, she'll follow. ] Too bad you wont have any badass facial scars, though. Ladies love those.