wiedzminka | ❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

[ Ciri turns when they step outside, taking a few steps backwards while she listens and guides them out into the courtyard. She snorts, eyebrows rising. ]

Swordplay isn't like chopping wood.

You need finesse more than brute strength.

[ He follows her out to the courtyard, blinking at the change in light before settling into it, still carrying both weapons. Even just the feel of them is so different. Having a gun in one hand at the same time as a sword in the other only serves to remind him of that, really emphasize how much he still has to learn to actually get comfortable with it.

Ciri's reaction only confirms that. His own eyebrows rise in turn, voice taking on a slightly playful edge. ]

Can't do shit to begin with if you don't got any strength. [ Hell, it's probably not a surprise that he's so obvious, though. Not like he's ever been a trained fighter. He just does it, and brute strength has always been on his side. He concedes the point immediately. ] But yeah, I figured. Kinda working on developing some new instincts there.

[ He tilts his head slightly, peering at her. ]

You probably fight different from Hunter. [ Just an observation based on different body types; nothing more. ] Got any pointers?

[ Ciri is not offended; she too concedes the point immediately. Nobody fights the same as Geralt, not even the other Witchers.

In fact, she smirks, cocks her head with interest. ]

You can try to fight me.

[ She wonders if she's about to get a weird nickname too. ]

Show me what you can do. Give you some pointers then. Though I doubt you can land a hit.

[ Which is enough to say about her fighting style already. ]

[ Now that earns a blink as he processes her offer, followed quickly by a grin. So they speak the same language after all. Maybe different dialects, considering as far as weapons go they have vastly different preferences, but the fun in using them all the same.

Though Amos' eyes drift back towards her dagger, then back to her eyes to address her directly. ]

You got a sword on you too, or just planning on using your knife? Or do you mean put the pointy objects away, go with fisticuffs? Just so we're clear.

[ No potential for any candelabra-esque incidents. Besides, not like they can really hurt themselves here, but probably better to get that established before he takes a swing at her and lucks out in removing a limb.

... She's probably right, though. About landing a hit. She's got that look to her: not particularly big, but you make up for it in other ways. If he manages a hit, it'd probably be a pretty big one. But he'd have to actually land it at first.

He's up for the challenge, at least. It'll be fun. Whatever her terms are — he'll happily go with them. ]

I could have a sword if I wanted one.

[ In the Horizon, she could have it in a blink. It is as easy as breathing, imagining the familiar weight of her blade in her hands.

When he suggests fisticuffs, of all things, Ciri laughs like he's told a particularly amusing joke. ]

Oh, no. I would never suggest we put the pointy objects away. Where's the fun in that?

The goal is to see what you can do with a sword. So show me. Imagine it blunt like a training sword, if you wish.

[ She doesn't sound particularly concerned either way; he can't hurt her in here, and Ciri's confident she can dodge or, if needed, summon her own sword if he turns out to be better than she expects. ]

[ His grin broadens, sharp and clearly having fun with this. ]

Plenty of fun to be had with just fists. You should try it sometime.

[ But hell, it's her turf — probably, Hunter's turf seems like her own — so it's her rules. And she's got a point. Yeah. He can play that way.

Honestly hadn't occurred to him to blunt his sword. Weapons are weapons, and here, they've got free rein to go as nuts as they want with no real consequences. Treating it like they're just hitting sticks almost seems wrong.

He blunts it, the blade's structure visibly shifting, like he's focusing on it bit by bit. It's quick enough, but not so quick that it just pops into existence as something else. He's mentally cataloguing the changes as he goes, how he's gonna change it back to what it really is when they're done.

Looks back up at Ciri, expression open. ]

Last ground rule. Does this end as soon as I land a hit, or—

[ And then he cuts himself off, charging at her before he even bothers to finish the thought. Maybe a twitch in his stance just before he stopped speaking would have alerted her; either way, he's probably lighter on his feet than he deserves to be, and his blunted sword is already out, swinging at her. There's power in it, a certain degree of wildness, but not so much that he can be knocked off balance, and he can at least readjust his stance quick enough to take another hack should she dodge.

He knows he's at the disadvantage here; isn't above fighting dirty at all. Never has been. A little harder when it's not his own turf, but hell, he'll make do. ]

[ She had suggested it more for his comfort than anything, since he'd seemed hesitant to attack her. Ciri notes the blade shifting slightly, the edge of its steel dulling, but she says nothing and doesn't bother with any other precautions.

Her stance shifts subtly when he looks up, weight on the balls of her feet in her soft, flexible boots. ]

Ha! Tricky. [ She grins, and it sounds like praise more than an admonishment, as she steps out of the way neatly, bending to the side at the waist to duck under his next swing and come up on the other side, her dagger in hand, a demonstrative swipe just missing (intentionally) the fleshy underside of his dominant arm.

In a flash, she's behind him, but she doesn't strike. She backs away again, letting him refocus and come at her once more. ]

Armpit. Thigh. Groin. Protect your arteries. Most people focus on the big ones -- neck, chest, belly. But there are so many places where a deep enough cut, even a small one, can cause big problems.

Precision yields more consistent results than sheer power.

[ His grin matches hers, even though she's effectively just killed him. He spins back around on his feet, facing her again, ready for round two, but listening attentively to every single thing she says. ]

Right. Get 'em bleeding out, not a whole lot else is gonna matter after. Guess I gotta brush up on my anatomy.

[ Or focus more on target practice. He's plenty used to the concept as far as shooting is concerned; this is different, but it adds an element to it. Like a game. Better for it to be a game here and now, when it doesn't matter, than to fuck it up when it does.

Still more than a sword's length of a distance away from Ciri, he points the end of his blade at the parts she'd mentioned. Armpit, thigh, groin. Centre of mass might not always be the best option like he's used to; especially not when said mass is quick and nimble.

Amos shifts back into a fighting stance, lunges forward to jab at her. There's still plenty of power in his thrusts, but rather than a swinging arc, he takes precision into account. Anywhere she tries to dodge to, he'll be back at it with another jab, degrees of movement added to it that would result in a sharp slice if he actually landed a hit with a pointed blade.

Maybe he catches her off-guard with a thrust, maybe he doesn't. Either way, it's a good workout, and as long as she's enjoying herself, so is he. Trying to adapt someone else's fighting style into his own carries its own challenges, and there's an element of clumsiness to it — but he knows to work on that now, so if there's ever a next time, he'll be better at it. It's a big change for someone who's never been professionally trained, who has always had to rely on his own strength and let it get him this far, but his pride has never gotten in the way before in him getting better at something. Wouldn't let it happen now. ]

❧ IC INBOX: Abraxas

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