Training Log 01: Shiny new powers

[crypddyd]

It's been a day- or something similar to it. After all, time seemed to be a weak thing here. But it's long enough that the pounding in his head from the attack under the Founation is... manageable. His ribs still ache, but he's not going to let that stop him- if Rei needed them to fight, then he would fight. Especially since he now remembered HOW to fight- a weak memory that came with a few other things. Like that fact that he might be royalty(?), but more useful was his skills with a weapon.

So he goes hunting for a big open area- and every other Executor he sees he mentions his intention: to train and test out these new powers. Eventually he finds what he's looking for: what probably was supposed to be a park, though it was slightly twisted like everything else here. But it was open enough that he probably wouldn't hit any non-combatants. A quick switch to his Executor uniform, massive black armor with a fur lined cloak, and he spins his bone spear like an expert.

How strange to have this knowledge but almost no context. Well, it is what it is. He wonders if any of the others will join him?

((ooc: feel free to tag amoung yourselves as well!))

Comments

[schardynfreude]

[For all that His Majesty had initially hesitated to join the gaggle of people clamoring for the power of an Executor, he seems to be fully willing to go along with this whole training routine. He may even have something of a spring in his step.

He's yet to show his particular tattoo, but with his clothing, it could be goddamn anywhere, huh. Even when he changes to his Executor form, with more layers than his current, brilliantly bright, it's just More Clothes. He runs a hand through his hair, longer and pulled back and less an unruly mess, giving a tuneless hum.]

How strange that it should be as easy as thought, to step from one reality of self to another.

[Stranger still is the weapon that appears in his hands at a motion that seems practiced somehow, accompanied by the sound of shattering crystal and a sparkle of much the same. jesus christ it's a giant scythe it's fucking massive what the hell]

...This seems unwieldy.

[But it's a jrpg weapon so don't worry about it, it'll still hit its targets just fine. Just. Wow. He's got reach. While the summoning of such a weapon feels familiar, the actual using of it...is less so. This will take some actual practice.

Things that also take actual practice: abilities. If anyone manages to hurt themselves in their experimenting, he'll come to them or suggest they close the distance so he can attempt to use his newfound healing. Failing that, you will occasionally see him, blink, and then see he's moved elsewhere, leaving behind naught but a faint magenta afterglow where he once stood--practicing at warping.

He. has to take several breaks through this particular part. It clearly wears him out easily, and that's even when he's not stumbling out of the warp like he's exited a very dizzying ride. He's frustrated at himself when he's caught resting, waving off concern.]

weapon

[emberserker]

Are you sure that was made for human use? Because if you're going to be summoning an ARMANOX to go with it, that's just unfair.

[schardynfreude]

[He blinks several times, processing.] Summoning a what?

[emberserker]

It's -- well, imagine something like Kingslayer, but the size of a building with a human pilot inside. It's a magic construct. I remembered it recently.

[schardynfreude]

That...sounds quite incredible. I doubt I've the ability to do anything of the sort. Although, if it was the size of a building, I doubt this would be even a toothpick to it.

[emberserker]

I suppose it would depend on the building. Seriously, how can you lift that?

[schardynfreude]

[He adjusts his grip near the base and lifts it high, twirls it about with a fair amount of ease (and with the blade so far up that there's little chance of harming anyone else).]

I haven't the faintest. [Said with no small hint of delight. This is all fantastical as far as he's concerned.]

warping

[beknights]

[ The giant weapon doesn't really pique their interest more than anything else piques their interest (though the fact he's taller even than they is something to be noted), but the teleportation catches their eye.

They study his movements for a moment, and then disappear in a rush of sound and shadow, reappearing with a whoosh a little way ahead of him and a flourish of their cape. They tilt their head up at him, seemingly content just to observe.

(It seems to almost please them, in some small way, to have someone else who can do something they uniquely recognise.) ]

[schardynfreude]

[He can practically feel the toll the movement takes on him, perhaps just not used to expending so much energy. But practice he must, because this is all so new to him, and if he's to assist, he must know what he can do.

The whooshing sound gets his attention, and the odd (compared to most of their number) being appears before him, cape billowing.

And he has to laugh, applauding.]

Good show! I daresay you've a better handle on your version than mine.

[phantasmagorial]

[ She watches him dart back and forth in flashes of magenta until she's feeling dizzy – so she can only imagine how he feels. She waits until he's taking a moment to rest before she approaches pretty timidly, with a chilled bottle of water in her hands, that she offers. ]

What... was that, exactly? It wasn't teleportation, was it?

[schardynfreude]

[He's sat on a bench (well, it's close enough to one), looking a bit worse for wear, hands gripped into his robes. He hefts out a quick sigh and looks up to her, trying to put a gentle smile on his face. He still doesn't look great, but it's an attempt.]

Ah--in a sense, but not exactly. [He takes the offered bottle, holds it in his hands because it at least makes them unclench, though he doesn't make to open it right away.] Thank you, my dear. I do seem to be moving, just at such a rate of speed it may as well be teleportation. I would call it... [He purses his lips, considers the wording for a moment. It sounds right.] Warping.

[phantasmagorial]

[ She gives him an awkward little smile in return. ]

It looks like it could be really useful, so long as you get the hang of it. A lot of what fighting Revenants comes down to is really just being faster than them. ... Or, it is for me, at least.

[ She is not particularly beefy, so she's got to be speedy instead. ]

[schardynfreude]

Perhaps with more of us under your wing, we don't need to rely on speed.

[He motions to the bench space next to him, an offer for her to sit.] Not necessarily to overwhelm them with power, but it looks to me that there will be those who don't require speed, who can take a hit.

[phantasmagorial]

[ And sit down she does, rather than just sort of hovering awkwardly like she had been just a moment ago. ]

I don't really like imagining anybody having to take hits from the Revenants down there... but I know that's not really realistic. That sort of risk is just part of the fight.

[ It's totally fine when it's herself at risk, but other people? Unacceptable!!! ]

[schardynfreude]

And now we're all here to fight with you. Softens the blow a bit, doesn't it? So to speak. And we've healers among our number. Although...

We will get better as he go, will we not? I daresay I won't be able to do much if someone does get hit a few times. Ease the pain, perhaps, but not tend to all the wounds.

[mementomoritz]

[Hey, guess who's too socially oblivious to tell when someone doesn't want to be approached? This girl.]

Oh, are you injured? I can fix that! [Just excitedly bounding up to him in one of his post-warp stumbles, eager and ready to practice medicine.]

[schardynfreude]

No-

[He doesn't know why he's suddenly so wound up. Surely he didn't expect to be perfect at this in an instant, so why does it annoy him so much? And, as someone who can heal at a touch himself, he should welcome the offer of another to help, even if it's unnecessary. How hypocritical of him, to find distaste, repulsion, at the idea of the healing touch of another when he can do just the same. He grits his teeth and holds out a hand, a non-verbal order to stay her ground while he's on the ground.

Don't be so damned irrational.]

No. I assure you, I'm quite fine. Just a tumble is all, nothing to get excited over.

[mementomoritz]

Aw, okay. [She sounds mildly disappointed that she doesn't have the opportunity to examine some horrible wounds, but accepts it without further question. Fortunately(?), she's also too oblivious to his sharp reply to be annoyed by it, and just continues on cheerfully.]

For a group training with live weaponry, we sure haven't had a lot of injuries! I wonder if being an Executor makes people more durable? I have some ideas about testing the tensile strength of bone, but it turns out I can't heal myself, so I think I could only do those once- and that's just not enough for any useful data!

[schardynfreude]

[And she just keeps talking. Truly remarkable that she has not an ounce of ability to read a room. Not that she would be the only one lacking social graces. He just breathes for a few moments as she babbles before making his way back to his feet, a bit wobbly for a moment but steadies out.]

Well. You're in luck. If you should ever require healing, I happen to have some small skill in that as well.

But, forgive me, are you suggesting you want to break your own bones just to see how much force it takes?

[mementomoritz]

Yes! [Not even a moment's hesitation.] And then write it down, of course- documenting your results is very important.

I think one bone on each side of the body would be best for double-checking the results, but it would have to be my legs, otherwise writing the results is going to be very challenging. Maybe the left and right tibias?

[A pause, as something he said earlier registers.] Ooh, do you have healing powers, too?

[alcahest]

[ inexperienced and timid, wielding an enormous bladed weapon, and up against others who are much more eager to test their mettle, it's almost inevitable that Magnum Opus would end up with some amount of nicks and scratches. in the moment, a sharp blade cutting through her clothes and into skin had evoked absolute terror — that dread again, that feeling that something awful would happen not to her, but to someone else. and every time, it passed without event. but even after the fear subsides, the sight of those thin cuts still makes her uneasy.

she's seen a few of the other Executors get fixed up by their two teammates that seem to have suddenly come upon healing abilities, and when she finds one of them unoccupied, she means to approach. she does approach. while he may have otherwise intimidated her, the memory of Saint-Germain has made His Majesty a person who puts her a little at ease, instead.

but. once she goes to him, and she tries to ask him if he can heal her, her voice sticks in her throat. she's found that she startles when anyone touches her, and that after a moment it settles into a sort of nagging discomfort, bearable even though it lingers on the edge of her mind. but this — asking someone for something that involves touching her — that seems impossible, somehow. it's... too much, too big, it's not just fear but something else too, a feeling that for some reason makes her heart wrench painfully in her chest.

His Majesty, of course, gets none of that broadcasted to him. Magnum Opus approaches him with that same doe-like caution she did yesterday when they first met, her eyes clearer and more focused than they were at that time. she stops short. her expression twists subtly, stricken. she opens her mouth and says: ]

Um.

[schardynfreude]

[Given his abilities, he tries to stay out of the way, would prefer less to spar directly and more to understand and develop his skills on his own. (Have you seen that scythe? Gods, he can't imagine doing anything but harming his own teammates with that.)

His (your most royal? highly esteemed? imperial?) Majesty is, however, paying attention to his surroundings, He is aware of the same shy(?) and uncertain girl from before, though he does not turn to her until she attempts to get his attention with a sound. At once he stops what he's doing, and who couldn't use a break?]

Yes, my dear? Oh--goodness, are you hurt?

[alcahest]

[ my dear. it startles her, that even that reminds her of Saint-Germain. maybe it's just because that's her only memory right now, and so he's on her mind, but... her fear recedes, just a little, at that thought — enough that it releases the stranglehold it has on her vocal chords, and she manages to speak at last. ]

Y-yes... [ she hurries to reassure him: ] Not badly. It's just, I'm not very good at this yet...

[schardynfreude]

I think, some appearances aside, none of us are. It's quite all right. Ah, but, my powers of healing do seem to be based around touch. Do you still feel the urge to keep your distance? I'm afraid I'll be quite useless to you in that case.

[alcahest]

[ that's right — he wants to help. she's the one that's afraid, and every time she's feared the worst, nothing has happened at all. it's absurd to keep being scared when she's the only one who feels that way, isn't it...? she's flinching away from kindness for no reason. and if they're working together now, then it's not fair to the others.

Magnum Opus takes a deep breath and puffs herself up, determined. ]

... I can do it.

[ with her jaw set stubbornly, her brows drawn together, she comes to stand right in front of him and nods her head. ... it's a little cute that she's being so serious about it. ]