ArchivedLogs:Too Slow

Too Slow
Warning: violence, blood, descriptions of unappetizing food.
Dramatis Personae Hive, Rasa, Steve, Tian-shin	2016-05-15 "What you got against bloodsuckers? Bigot."
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Courtyard - Lower East Side
This courtyard is the lush central hub of the surrounding Harbor Commons, bound in on three sides by rows of duplexes and triplexes, cutting upward at the sky with the sharp thrift of a minimalist's style, neat lines and bountiful windows, boldened with accents in wood towards the upper stories, stone towards the base, the whole of the compound sealed in by a low stoneworked wall that opens entrance gates to the streets beyond at its two far corners, smaller gates at building back doors. The fourth side of the courtyard is open to the East River, the ground forming a slight decline, controlled on one side by micro-retaining walls to form wide steps where picnic tables sit beneath the nominative shelter of a trio of dogwood trees, accessible by ramp. The other side is allowed to slope at its natural angle, a wide open yard space, until its cut off at the river's edge, where a massive pair of oak trees stand, a staircase leading away up one of their thick trunks. The yard itself is carpeted in an organic flow of emerald grass swirled through with wending channels of smooth-paved cement walkways, flowing naturally away from the building's front entrances, where some are arced by trellis, some flanked by hosta plants, fern and lilies, a few laid in gentle switch-backing ramps for wheelchair access, before forking off at matching angles to sites of small garden installments. Bird feeders and baths suspended from the necks of small lamp posts, a rock-lined koi pond, a sleek gazebo tucked to one side in simplistic varnished wood, its southern side overgrown with a mass of thriving grapevine and a caged-in barbecue pit under its sheltering roof. A play area and proper garden are within sight off another branch, until finally all paths spiral in like wheel spokes to a shared common house at the center of all traffic flow. It's been a mild afternoon, rapidly shifting into a crisp evening. The grounds of the Commons are quiet -- /ish/; the faint strains of violin music coming from the direction of Birdhaus, a peal of laughter from one of the Commonhaus's upper balconies, but mostly quiet. The still under-construction soon-to-be Workhaus is looking far less skeletal and far more /haus/-like, actual walls, an actual roof. Its doors open, close, disgorging one wiry telepath in jeans, boots, baggy corduroy jacket a few sizes too big for his frame worn open over a deep red tee shirt with the greek letters Theta Tau embroidered small in gold on its breast. There's a cigarette hanging unlit between his lips, and though his hands are shoved into his pockets he doesn't seem in any particular hurry to search for a lighter. Just closes the door behind him, leans against its frame to survey the yard -- more with the broad (broad, broad, broad) expanse of his mind than with his (half-closed) eyes. Steve's mind is both exuberant and intensely focused, his thoughts bent on the opponent he circles, playing out likely moves and counter moves with startling proprioceptive clarity but never resolving into words. He's wearing workout clothes: a tight white t-shirt, black jogging pants, gray sneakers. His only colorful accessory is the red, white, and blue shield strapped to his forearm, which he keeps between himself and the young woman he faces. Pale blue eyes skip briefly aside to Hive when he enters the yard, his only greeting an inwardly mental /lean/, though he does also consider the potential danger to the new bystander, and changes his direction of motion according to shift their sparring farther from the path. Tian-shin circles Steve in the same direction and at the same velocity, though the placement of her steps both looks and feels far more deliberate. Her mind is placid, her attention diffuse though primarily on her opponent, but beneath all this lurks a raw, adrenaline-fueled thrill. Dressed in a cap-sleeved aqua t-shirt featuring a small black cat perched on a white cloud, black gi pants, and bright rainbow sneakers, she wields a Chinese longsword with a red tassel dangling from its plain bronze pommel, the blade held level with her eyes and parallel with the ground, her other hand extended downward, palm flat, guarding. Her feet move close to the ground in fluid, weaving arcs. Her eyes remain fixed on Steve until he glances away, whereupon she follows the line of his gaze. Nodding at Hive, she matches Steve's shift step for step. "Don't mind us, we're just sparring." She flinches visibly at her choice of words. "I mean to say...{hello.}" This last word comes out in Spanish. Rasa is making hir rounds, heading into the city from Brooklyn, making hir way toward Xavier's school for hir counseling session. Ze is not in a hurry. Ze tends not to be in a hurry for that, stopping at the Commons for a day or so to bolster up hir spirits before trekking the last bit, asking about Evolve and trying to pitch in. Today, ze approaches from over the wall, a small backpack strapped to hir back. Ze is a blue color, furry with a long tail, hir clothes slightly more well fitting than normal, the spandex loose for now, in lime and navy. Ze flips over the top of the wall and lands gingerly on three limbs, looking up to take in the court yard, hir brows rising to see hir lawyer sparring. "Hola." Rasa is making hir rounds, heading into the city from Brooklyn, making hir way toward Xavier's school for hir counseling session. Ze is not in a hurry. Ze tends not to be in a hurry for that, stopping at the Commons for a day or so to bolster up hir spirits before trekking the last bit, asking about Evolve and trying to pitch in. Today, ze approaches from over the wall, a small backpack strapped to hir back. Ze is a blue color, furry with a long tail, hir clothes slightly more well fitting than normal, the spandex loose for now, in lime and navy. Ze flips over the top of the wall and lands gingerly on three limbs, looking up to take in the court yard, hir brows rising to see hir lawyer sparring. "Hola." "Funnily enough, I'd caught on to that. It was either that or you'd just fucking /had/ it with Steve's shitty-ass cooking." Hive's voice is a low murmur, tipped down towards the ground -- across the courtyard where he leans against Workhaus's door there's no real way it carries over to the combatants or Rasa either, and /yet/ as his cigarette bobs between his lips they pick his words up perfectly clearly. "Not that anyone'd blame you, honestly. Only so goddamn much a person can take. Be grateful you live in Brooklyn, Rasa. Shit here's gone downhill." Steve offers Rasa a short, truncated nod and a friendly smile that belies his martial bearing. "Hola -- Rasa, yes? Been a while." The smile sharpens at Hive's commentary, though. "A little bit of both, maybe? I wouldn't fault anyone for wishing violence on me for my /persistence/, if nothing else. That eggplant...thing was truly heinous." But he continues circling, all the same, his mind whirling with new scenarios, rehearsing how he might keep the bystanders from harm in case of potential mishaps. "All the culinary first aid you've performed for me must merit you the first move, I think." Tian-shin snorts, shakes her head slightly. "I still think this old soldier can learn new tricks, though perhaps with a better instructor than myself." << Oh, fuck, why did I say that? Jax.. >> "Rasa! {Welcome,} and don't believe a word of it. This a perfectly friendly contest, and /I/ will be cooking Common dinner tonight, if you'd like to stay." She does not need a second invitation, though, only inclines her head and replies, almost /shyly/, "Then you will pardon my discourtesy." Even before she finishes speaking, she begins closing to Steve--not directly but spiraling inward from her established circling, as if her orbit has suddenly collapsed into a collision course. Her blade slices downward in a long, drawn S-shape in a bid to knock his shield aside, although her momentum will carry her /past/ him whether this maneuver succeeds or not. Rasa snorts quietly and rubs hir hands on hir thighs to remove the grit from the city running ze's been doing. Ze wanders a little closer to Hive, head tilting as amber colored eyes scrutinize the movements the other two are making, watching them spar. "Sheesh. Yeah, well, it's all sausage and potatoes and borscht in Brooklyn. I suppose I could be up for a little change, as long as it is identifiable as food." Ze looks over toward Hive, focusing on his cigarette. "Can I bum one?" "Fff. I take it back." Hive's lips compress at Rasa's description of Brooklyn Food, eyes scrunching tighter closed. "Steve and his boiled-ass white-boy food would fit right the hell in down there. How's Ivan been?" His eyes open just a touch wider, though, fixing with a mild scrutiny on Tian-shin. They're still fixed there as he pats down his jacket for a slightly squashed pack of cigarettes, pushing its lid open to tap one out for Rasa. "At his age? {Need a damn good teacher.}" This last part is in Thai -- though just as his quiet words reach them when they really shouldn't, this comes out perfectly intelligible as well. "That's my home town!" Steve says with a swell of slightly self-deprecating pride. His memory fills, briefly, with the smell and taste and texture of potatoes boiled with cabbage and a few crumbles of sausage to a pale, mushy stew. He has no fondess for the food itself, but it reminds him of his mother. This distraction does not prevent him from shifting with inhuman speed to meet Tian-shin's strike with the center of his shield, deflecting the sword easily. He kicks out at her leg as she passes him, turning to follow her with the shield, ready to slam it into her if the kick should connect and break her momentum. "I'll learn," he sounds far more confident than he feels. << I hope Lucien is a good enough teacher to compensate for my innate shortcomings in this department. >> Tian-shin's sword glances off of Steve's shield with an oddly muffled screech, and she pivots with it, only just barely avoiding his kick as she does so. The two combatants spin apart again, looking even more like two objects locked in an unstable orbit. "It's bell seitan pepper stir-fry with black pepper sauce tonight. Someone's volunteered to make a gluten-free entree too, though I forget who or what," she announces, her own hunger stirring faintly deep within, though the desire for violence is burning somewhat keener at the moment. She wades back in, sword skimming up from beneath the shield this time, striking at Steve's arm. "{Well, there's only room for improvement, I hear.}" Rasa lapses into Russian, amused. Ze slides a cigarette out of the proffered package and sticks it in between hir lips, fumbling with a pocket on hir backpack until ze pulls out a lighter. "{Vanya is good. People are liking his 'extermination' service because it does not leave strange odors in their homes.}" Ze makes air quotes around the word extermination. "{Though, to be fair, a number of them do become food for other creatures, so I suppose it is not entirely an no-kill situation.}" Ze takes a pull off hir cigarette and falls silent as the fight starts really going. "{I doubt /most/ people give all that much thought to the lives of bugs. Usually just glad to have them gone.}" There's something quietly wistful, though, in the quiet subtle way Hive leans on that 'most', his eyes drifting off across the yard towards Birdhaus. His gaze soon snaps back to the ongoing sparring, though. He leans in towards Rasa once ze has the lighter out, finally lighting his own cigarette off hir flame and settling back against the door once more. "Nina," he fills in for Tian-shin, his expression gone slightly distant, "she's making cornish hen. Garlic and lemon and rosemary." He blinks, shoulders twitching faintly, eyes refocusing on Steve and Tian-shin. Mind refocusing on them. "-- Lucien?" This sounds puzzled. << Jax, >> is all Steve can think of, even before Hive stresses the 'most' as a qualifier to his comment. "This person -- Ivan -- gets rid of insect infestations without killing them, somehow?" Tian-shin's blade finds only air this time, as Steve executes a standing back-flip and, landing in a crouch, hurls his shield at the sword in her hand. He's already strafing aside to catch the shield on its rebound. "Lucien -- he...offered to give me some pointers on cooking. Which, given his skill, I rather appreciate. Not," he adds hastily, "to say that I do not appreciate either of your contributions to my culinary education." "I can make my peace with most bugs, but mosquitos and ticks..." Tian-shin clicks her tongue sharply, perhaps as much at Steve's impressive evasion of her strike as the thought of bloodsucking insects. She emits a yip of surprise when the shield flies at her, and only just brings her other hand up in time to steady the hilt of the sword, only just barely holding onto it as the shield's edge glances off of its blade with a swish like a muted cymbal. << {Dear heavens, but he is /strong!/}" Her internal monologue has lapsed back into Mandarin. The effort of bracing against the hit has thrown off her momentum, and she's slow to close the gap to Steve now, teeth gritted hard. "Yes, yes, he can. Let me know if you ever need his services." Rasa is at least verbally silent about hir person's abilities, but is fairly sure Hive can fill things in should he decide to. "As... exciting as this is, I should go find Shane and get settled. He's always easier to find when he's playing." Ze gives a salute to Captain America and a quick bow to Tian-shin before ze turns away, still somewhat vigilant due to the expanding nature of the sparring. "Tells the bugs to leave." Hive says this kind of deadpan, chin jerking up to Rasa as ze leaves -- but his brows hike up afterwards, eyes widening slightly. "He did?" There's a noticeable lilt of surprise that carries through -- more mentally where his mind touches the others' than in his (still not /actually/ all that audible) voice. He pulls a deep drag of his cigarette, shaking his head in mock dismay. "What you got against bloodsuckers? Bigot." "Later," Steve calls after Rasa as he snatches the shield back out of the air, somewhat more carefully than he might were he wearing gloves. He immediately throws it right /back/ at his opponent, though, just as she begins her next attack. This time he angles the throw to cancel the vibranium disc's momentum altogether, either bouncing it right back at him or dropping it to the ground. "Yes, he did." << Certainly he is not the most outgoing fellow, but is it /quite/ so unexpected as all that? >> He follows the second throw of the shield with a broad, powerful swing of his fist. Tian-shin blushes /fiercely/ at the accusation of her bigotry, thinking now not of insects but Dusk. "Hope to see you at supper!" She cannot spare the time to return Rasa's bow, and a flash of guilt runs through her that might have been her undoing as much as the shield itself where it knocks her sword aside--though she manages to hang onto it, at least--leaving her wide open. << {Oh damnable fucking bastard son of a--} >> Desperate, she drops down to one knee and skids along the ground to duck beneath Steve's fist, bringing her sword up at the same time, though she does not put much force behind it, ready to yield if she should actually meet her opponent's /flesh/ rather than his shield. Hive's eyes linger -- on the fight, perhaps, though he seems to be looking more through the clash of sword and shield than at it. "No. I suppose it isn't." He's finally pulling himself away from the doorway of Workhaus, skirting the fight somewhat wide as he makes his way across towards Birdhaus. Though his steps hitch in concert with the swing of Tian-shin's sword, breath catching a moment as his eyes slip momentarily shut. One hand drops, curling unthinkingly to his side. "... not fast enough." A little dry, his words come out on a cloud of smoke. Not put off by punching the air once again, Steve snatches the shield out of the air and slips his left arm through the straps in one smooth motion. He's turning aside to avoid the sword but -- even as Hive speaks -- isn't quite fast enough. The tip of the blade catches his left side, tearing through shirt and then skin, opening a finger-length wound against his ribs even as he brings his shield downward to freeze hardly a hand's length from Tian-shin's forehead. Blood blooms crimson against white fabric, and a thin rivulet of it trickles down the gleaming surface of Tian-shin's sword. Steve sucks in a quick breath, the pain that lances through him sharp and quick and /clean/ -- he clings to it for a moment and then lets it go. A kind of clarity settles over his mind. "Well played," he says brightly, stepping back to offer his opponent a hand up. "The day is yours." Tian-shin has frozen in place, her eyes fixed at the shield where it stopped just above her. The massive spike of adrenaline that tears through her has prepared her not to fight or flee physically, but to incapacitate her opponent in the most effective way possible. Her powers have stretched out, grasping not at Steve but the water in his body--there is quite a lot of it, and she has stopped herself just on the verge of ripping those molecules apart into their component gasses. Steve's blood trickles down to the guard of her sword, dripping down onto the ground. She gasps, and pulls the blade back at once, her powers subsiding at once. "{Sorry!}" She blinks her eyes clear and finally accepts his hand, rising somewhat shakily. "I thought--I'd pulled back enough. You--well, really you'd have survived your injury even if I followed through, while I..." << Would have my brains splattered all over the courtyard. But then, in a /real/ fight... >> She shudders. "Well. I'm glad it wasn't a real fight. Let's get that cleaned up and bandaged."