logsinthenight | combat training mingle log

characters: everyone
location: the village gymnasium
date/time: every wednesday & friday throughout october
content: at the town hall last month, javert offered to set up a place for combat training. this is him making good on his promise. as he mentioned in his bulletin ad, these sessions are open to absolutely everyone, not just those who want to learn how to fight. partner up with someone and spar. do whatever you want, just don't hurt each other too badly—or javert will have words with you.
warnings: violence

setup

The gym's certainly seen better days, with it's crumbling walls and lost ceiling tiles. Javert doesn't need it to be pretty, though. He only needs it to be functional. In the last week, he's been doing what he can to clean it up, washing the floors and making some minor structural repairs.

Once the first day of combat training begin, the day after the ferry sinks, it's as clean as it possibly can be without any sort of overhaul. There are mats set up along one end of the gym, for people to stretch or otherwise use for sparring, and a collection of swords near the door. Some are blunted and old, perfect for training — though they may still hurt — while others are sharp or unwieldy, and will need to be handled with care. Use them, Javert says, but return them when you are finished.

There's a tiny collection of knives, too, though there aren't any targets to practice throwing them at. It's a work in progress. For light, there's a torch set up along the wall, illuminating the room and allowing combatants to spread themselves out from one another.

meetings

For the sake of not being micromanagey, there isn't going to be any formal structure to these practices. Javert is available to teach hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship, should anyone wish it. He's also enlisted the aid of Jason Grace, who will teach hand-to-hand and swordsmanship, and Bucky Barnes, who is proficient in knife fighting as well as hand-to-hand combat. Anyone else, of course, may teach others as they please. Just this once, Javert's not going to be a stickler for formalities. He just wants to see everyone making productive use of their time, in some fashion.

Training will run from seven o'clock to nine o'clock in the evening. Arrive promptly, or Javert will berate you for being disruptive. No one is required to come to every single meeting, so come as often or as little as you like. If regular exercise is supposed to help combat the effects of total darkness, why not give it a try?

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[Her mouth tightens, but she does as she's told, stabilizing her weight, making it harder for her to be knocked down-- and good that she did, for in the next moment he's on her.

It's a series of strikes and frantic defense, Rosalind's sword sweeping up desperately, only barely parrying him again and again. It ends suddenly, a short stab right to her shoulder, and she hisses sharply, more shocked than pained. And then up again, her sword flashing, but
it's not as if the rest of the bout goes much better. Again she defends, and again he strikes, until there's just one moment where her mind works too fast and her body not fast enough. He strikes and she skids back, and suddenly she's sprawled on the floor.

She's breathing hard, sweat shining on her skin: she'd at least lasted a few minutes, which is more than she could at the start of this lessons.]

( He's reserved, but relentless, not giving her a moment to stop and think about what her strategy is. It's better this way, to teach the body how to move on it's own, to fight back in order to stave off the pain. He hits her shoulder, and it doesn't bleed so he just keeps on striking. Hitting back at her again and again until she's sprawled out on the floor and Javert is standing over her, sword pointed. )

Madame, do you yield?

( He asks her, somehow managing to make himself sound both haughty and respectful. She's making progress, and that's really all that he can ask for. )

[There's really not much she can do about it now, but still there's a moment's pause as Rosalind struggles to think of a way out. She hates losing, even if it's inevitable. Especially then.]

What would you do if I said no?

[It's not an argument. Just a wry statement as she stares fearlessly up his sword at him.]

I would do nothing.

( He's much too honorable to strike anyone when they're down. Rosalind doesn't look as if she's in any shape to be challenging him again anyway, so Javert lowers his sword and curls his lips into something nearing a smirk. He extends his hand out to her, to help her up. )

I only ask because I wished to hear you say it. Come then.

[Is she proud of the half-second pause she gives before taking his hand? No. Does it happen anyway, alongside a slight purse of her lips? Yes and the less said about it, the better. She really does hate losing. But then she's on her feet, and it's pointless to carry on. It was only a moment's sulk anyway.]

You're going to have to beat me at something a bit more challenging than swordplay if you wish to hear me actually say those words.

[It's wry, not bitter, and she sighs as she offers the blade.]

I'll carry your notebook, if you'd like.

[He can haul the rest.]

Edited 2019-10-20 02:47 (UTC)

( Javert takes the sword from her, but as for the rest, he shakes his head. )

I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own belongings.

( Perhaps that is a point of pride, too, foolish as it is. He takes the blades and tucks them into a bag, and the others go in there with it. As he's picking up the remainder — his first aid supplies, notebook, coat, hat, lantern — he asks, )

What would you have me challenge you in? Do not say science. We already know who is the better of the two of us in that regard.

[She smiles just slightly, betraying her pleasure in his compliment. But ah, that question . . .]

Chess?

[She glances over at him. Truly, she'd enjoy playing with him; she's a feeling he has the mind for it.]

If you don't know it, I'm monopolizing your time in the evenings to teach you.

As if you don't already.

( Most days, at least. It's not a complaint, and Javert finds it concerning that he does not seem to think of it as one. Since when has he gotten so comfortable with her presence? It's difficult to say. )

I never had much interest in it, but if you think it a worthwhile skill, then I will learn. To get you to commend me, if nothing else.

( He likes having his ego stroked, and that is far easier to admit than to say that he's going to do it for her. )

[She laughs softly, startled by that admission.]

You value it so much . . . perhaps that will be my Christmas present to you: generous praise and little else.

Praise is not a gift. It is something to be earned.

( He huffs a little, and goes back to buttoning up the front of his greatcoat. His hat and gloves come next, and once they're on, he says, )

I have done nothing to earn it yet.

I'll stick to socks, then.

[Dryly, as she holds the door open for him.]

Come along. I'd like to have some tea before bed.

As you wish.

( He says, huffing a little at her dry remark, but like an obedient dog, he follows dutifully behind her. Once they're outside, Javert makes sure the door is shut tight behind them, and slings his bag over his shoulder, before making their way to the Invincible, side by side. )

combat training mingle log

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