Punchy McPunch Camp

Log Info

• Title: Punchy McPunch Camp
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Simony, Aya
• Place: The Colosseum
• Time: April 21st, 2023
• Summary: Simony gets trained by Aryia, and gets some hard lessons. Aya brings food to taste test. It doesn't kill them.

The Colosseum, Morning

Morning practice in the Colosseum. Practice targets and sparring groups spanning the ground. The time before shows are held is a perfect environment to learn, adapt, survive, and overcome. And more importantly, share.

Idly weaving through the ranks of Agornites, Korites, mercenaries and glory seekers is that of a scarred mul'neissa woman in a green jacket, it buckled closed to ward off the tinge of chill from the morning dew. She passes by a half-oruch woman, them seemingly getting frustrated at a wooden target as their wrapped hands were scuffed, and places a hand on their arm. She makes a motion to breathe, slowly, and gives the arm a pat before moving on to others.

The small Goblin arrives at a run, her cheeks flushed an angry red. The monastery was a bit of a distance, after all. She slows at the periphery of the training area, and begins to pull her robes over her head. Revealing a white gi, and a shiny breastplate, underneath. The robes are neatly folded and set aside, and the breastplate dropped on top.

Simony eyes the array of people smacking targets, and notes the green-jacketed Mul'neissa. She moves in the same direction as Aryia, getting down to one of the unoccupied targets, and awaits the Mul's arrival.

Aryia continues to do her rounds. It doesn't look like she's training, hands folded behind her back. She stops at another fellow, this a young, spry human man. A pointer is given, literally, her finger alighting on their footwork. He gets frustrated at the pugilist, threatening harm, but those around end up laughing.

The mute cuts them all a glare. They quiet down. And she points the young man back at the target, then to gestures to his stance again. Properly embarrassed, he folds, tucking his chin in and resuming his training.

None too much later, near silent bootfalls crunch the sand near Simony. Aryia, bereft of her shades, casts her shining gaze down at the albino gobber. She Stares. Looks at the target. Then back at Simony expectantly.

The Gobbo tenses slightly, there is a heavy inclination to bow. But she manages to nod instead. She faces the target, and again fights off an inclination for formality. Her feet move apart, her hips squared up with the target, and her fists begin to move, following a left-right-left pattern on the target's 'chest' area, mixed in with punches to other parts of the target, generally spots that would be considered vulnerable: neck, face, large joints.

Aryia returns the nod, her starting to slowly circle around Simony. Glowing eyes are squinting, darting to minute tells and motions of one's form. One circle. Two. Three.

She stops behind the target. Holds up a hand to cease the gobber. Then with very little effort, picks up the heavy training dummy and throws it aside to put herself in its place.

She gestures to continue, making no inclination to defend herself.

Simony's eyes widen at what Aryia is suggesting by removing the training target. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and then nods to Aryia. The Goblin spends several long moments sizing Aryia up, scrutinizing the taller woman carefully.

"YAAAAAAAH!", she yells as she launches forward, a kick aimed directly at Aryia's knee.

Aryia doesn't move, her standing there, letting Simony get herself together The warcry gets a brow to quirk, the most she moves as Simony makes her strike.

She subtle shifts her leg, a minute twist. Letting the hit land and disperse harmlessly.

It's like kicking solid stone.

"I am not a piece of wood," she motions with one hand. "I am not an animal to be scared off with screaming. You are working yourself up in your head."

The mute shifts on her feet, getting into a proper stance as she holds a hand low. "Again. Kick my hand. Do not kick AT it. It is not wood. Kick PAST it. Aim here-" she motions at the space behind her hand, about a foot away. "And don't fucking yell to the world you're about to attack." <Handspeech>

Simony blinks at the connection of foot to leg, and peers up at Aryia as she signs her words of wisdom. The Goblin takes a few moments to absorb the information, and then takes in a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, her foot kicks out in a straight-forward manner, with her focusing on the space past Aryia's hand.

Aryia doesn't move, still appraising Simony in more than just physical motion. The kick connects with Aryia's hand. It's markedly rigid, only giving a few inches before letting it fall to the wayside to let the strike follow through into empty air. "Better. You're still in your head too much, but that takes time to work on."

She rights herself, and puts her fists up. The mute pats her torso. "Hit me as hard as you can," she instructs. <Handspeech>

The training grounds seem to be used for exactly that, if the recent yells were any indication. Perhaps that's why Aya walks into the colloseum. Everyone and anyone can always use more practice. Not to mention that striking things can be therapeutic, and there is not shortage of targets here. Which may make the fact that a metal pot is carried with, dangling from hand by the loop handle.

"It is difficult to get out of my head.", she says softly, nodding to the Mul. Another deep breath is had, the new target being more difficult than a hand that can give easily to an assault.

She attempts a little feint, her feet moving her first one way, but shifting suddenly in the opposite direction as she strikes out with a punch aimed squarely behind Aryia's well toned torso.

Aryia frowns at Simony from the idle comment. The little maneuver does little, as the pugilist wasn't aiming to move at all. But something about the way the punch lances out makes Aryia turn slightly, making the strike skirt by and miss by a hair. A hand comes up to stop Simony. "You're going to break your hand. You've overthinking."

The motion gets her gaze to cast about, and land upon a fellow mul'neissa entering the arena. A brow quirks from the mute, and she waves over to Aya. "Sister. What do you have?" she inquires before turning back to Simony.

"Your form is good. Your mental fucking sucks," she reports, brutally honest. "What is your dissonance?" <Handspeech>

Aya lifts her free hand to return Aryia's wave before it responds with a brief "Something that requires your insight." She continues her approach to the pair, speaking up once she nears. "Maybe a bit of rest or reflection is due?" her eyes move to the gobber and then back to Aryia. "Though I am not the mentor, here."

The Gobbo looks back and forth between the two, her hand coming up to sign. "Just to inform you, I understand handspeech. If there is something you wish to discuss, I can leave, or perhaps you might choose another means of communication if I am not to be privvy to what you speak on."

To Aryia, she nods. "I am nervous. I am perhaps trying to impress too much. And attacking someone who is not already attacking me makes me uncomfortable."

Aryia looks down at the pot before tilting her head to the side. "I can give insight," she answers. A few moments pass. Her face turns to... mild concern. "... did... you cook?"

She glances to Simony, shrugs. "Stay." A beat to listen. She is Staring. "Do you think me attacking you, adding on more stress to the nerves would help at all? That sounds more potential room for errors. You're uncomfortable because you fear the results. I know my limits, I can take whatever you throw. What is better, to attack and finish a fight before it has even begun? Or to wait until you're staring death in the face?" she gestures sagely, expression not really changing, save for a hardening of her expression. <Handspeech>

Aya graps the pot loop with both hands, now, to hold it in front of herself. Her eyes lower to the lid as she answers aloud, "Yes, I did. It is for Daed, but I want other opinions, first. In case it might be ... unpalatable."

She then looks to Simony and nods. "Please, stay. I will not intrude long, and your opinion is also welcome." Perhaps it could be considered part of the training, even?

Could she conlcude this before its even begun?

Or are they all already staring death in the face?

The Goblin's expression changes slowly as Aryia speaks, an almost-frown creeping in. Little fists form, and Simony moves in, punches thrown as she moves around. "I just hate it. Hate seeing my friends get hurt. Hate that things always lead here. Hate that I'm unprepared. Weak. Small."

The thought of potential food is to be had sinks into her head, and her stomach gurgles noisily in anticipation, even as she is attemping to punch Aryia's stomach so hard right now.

Aryia's brow raise at the answer. "I can... try it," she motions slowly. Willing to help her sister. But this here seem to be her own 'death-in-the-face'. "I visited him the other day, gave him some clothes. It seemed to help him some. Going to make more for him."

She turns back to Simony and- punches! Frustrated, tiny punches! The mute pays attention to the albinbo gobber, her having to bring her hands up and take the blows, one after another. She lets the frustration vent, taking the hits easily as they slough off. Soon after, Aryia's hands come down and clamp onto Simony's shoulders to get them to cease. She stares. Then gestures with one hand. "Good." Wait- what? "Knowing your shortcomings is the first step. You must now work on either accepting them, or build on making them no longer short comings."

She releases her. "You aren't weak. Small, yes. But not weak. Weak doesn't walk all the way from the spire to here. Weak doesn't stand here and listen to truth."

She glances to Aya. "... and weak doesn't back down from a challenge..." she sighs. <Handspeech>

"He did ask for more clothes," Aya confirms to Aryia. A pause. "He asked -me- to bring him clothes." There is a long look with that, though she soon enough turns to carry the pot towards the edge of the seating stands. "I would say that meeting every challenge head-first is also NOT strength..." she offers in trailing advice before setting the pot upon the seating and retrieving a pair of wooden spoons to set atop it.

Simony simply stares at Aryia once her shoulders are grabbed, eyes following the signs. Her expression is one of frustration.

She breathes rather heavily, "I can accept my shortcomings. Uhm, and I ran part of the way here from the Spire. Tried to be efficient. Run, walk, run, walk... " Rubbing at her cheeks, she nods again. "I want to learn, and I am determined to be here. I hope that you can work with me."

The Gobbo looks to Aya a moment, and nods, "There is wisdom in that. And I am willing to try what you've made. What ... did you make? Also, if I may inquire? Has your friend recently recovered from a grave illness, or perhaps has died and returned? If you are looking for clothing, a number of the temples do offer clothing for a variety of reasons. If you wished, I could gather some, and bring them to you." Looking to Aryia then, she offers a smile, "As a way of thanks for the training you offer?"

Aryia gives a slow nod to Aya. "Meeting every challenge head-first is not strength, but it is a simple solution for most problems." She blinks. "... alright. I can make some more and give them to you. Do you have his measurements written down?"

She looks down to Simony. Listens. "I will work with you, but don't be surprised when I press. Most people think it is the body that is the weak part. It is not. It is the mind." But, at that, she shakes her head. "It is a... unique situation. And this man is of fine attire. He needs quality clothes for... therapeutic reasons," she signs, not really able to convey how testy the situation is. "Your thanks can be given by coming and not bitching out."

Speaking of not bitching out, Aryia turns to look at the pot. The spoon. Grabs one. Opens the lid. And without asking nor inspecting, dips the spoon in and eats whatever comes out with a look of 'please don't kill me' on her face. <Handspeech>

GAME: Aya rolls profession/cook: (18)+12: 30

Aya looks to Simony, "Thank you, but he is particular of his clothing, and he needs to feel more ... himself. Comfortable. As much as we can."

She only realizes that Aryia is digging in when the lid is opened and quickly points out, "It seemed something was ... missing from it?" She isn't entirely sure, which may not bode well.

What lies within? Well, it is ... breakfast? If it is missing something, it can't be many things given the multitude of ingredients. A number of things that someone may enjoy eating, and Aya may have had problems whittling down the list. Spiced sausage. Eggs. Potatoes. Vegetables. Onions. Aromatics. A hash? Stew? Stash?

"I expect you to press me." Bench pressing, more likely. "I'm not going to learn much tickling your ribs, I expect." Simony nods to both, her expression quizzical. "That is uhm interesting, to say the least. Well, I wish him a speedy recovery, and commend you on helping him. If it helps any, tell him he has one more rooting for him."

With Aryia not immediately dying, catching fire, or screaming, the Goblin snatches up the other spoon, scoops up a portion and shoves it into her mouth. Chewing quickly and swallowing, she nods. "Hmm. That is pretty good. I think it is kind of hard to miss, with so many tasty ingredients in it." Her stomach growls noisily and at length. "I should... try a little more, just to be sure." She moves to scoop a second helping.

Aryia nods with Aya's assessment of the situation of their friend before she looks down at Simony. "Good." That is all. And so much more. What did the gobber sign up for?

Before that potential future pain could be processed, Aryia grimaces at expecting something vile. And yet... She pauses. Blinks. Talking with her mouth full, her spoon goes right back in for another. "What the fuck, this is really good...!" Another bite. "Maybe texture? Cook longer to reduce? But that's preference, I'd inhale this in a heart beat if you weren't about to give it to him." <Handspeech>

Aya watches with some trepidation as Aryia and then Simony, sample: it is not visible on her features, but Aryia would certainly notice the shifting of weight between feet; the mobile hands and otherwise not-still stance. She looks between the two taste-testers... and blinks at the responses.

Brows arch and she gives Aryia a long look, expecting some other caveat or quip. "Sister... do you really think so?" The incredulous question is swung to Simony also with a less-accusing look at the gobber.

The Gobbo has a bigger second helping, her mouth full enough that her cheeks puff out. It takes a bit of time for her to chew and swallow it all in one go, but she nods in the meantime.

Licking her lips, she grins. "Yes, you have made a delicious breakfast. If he does not enjoy it, you can safely smack him for insulting your food."

Aryia bobs her head rapidly. "I'm not fucking kidding, this shit tastes good. When the fuck did you learn to cook? You're usually dogshit." Ah. Brutal honesty. She forces herself to put the spoon down, as to leave the rest for later. <Handspeech>

"Practice." Aya may be yet suspicious, or yet doubting, but that is fading quickly. Aryia is rather known for her blunt honesty, as just demonstrated. "We spent many days at home... hiding," the admission brings out only a hint of frown that quickly vanishes in light of the moment. "I cooked often, or as much as he would indulge me. Some times were only myself, when he would find other meals..." None of which ever gave much in the way of positive feedback.

Which could explain the surprise as she looks between them. "Thank you. I don't know what to say. I expected more... " she now eyes Aryia with a mild smirk " dogshit."

Aya may feel suspicious or doubt her sister's ... praise, but the fact that Simony is trying for a third spoonful should lend some credibility to the breakfast's tastiness.

"It is good. I would eat all of it right here if allowed." If not prevented, she will scoop and monch on another spoonful.

Aryia gives a firm nod, her reaching out to pat Aya on the shoulder. "It is very much not dogshit," she smiles. "I think he'll like it. You can stop by my place after this to pick up his clothes. I should have them ready by then."

She looks down to Simony. "Please don't eat all of it...." <Handspeech>

Aya looks to Aryia at the shoulder pat. Her mild half-smirk expands and grows to a broad, genuine smile. An expression rarely witnessed, and even less so recently. It is immediately followed by a blur of motion as one mul promptly grabs up the other... in a solid embrace. She doesn't even think to ask Simony not to eat all of it. Thankfully Aryia already did that.

The Gobbo does her best to look chastised, but she grins cheekily, putting the spoon back where she grabbed it from. "It really is good, and you should save the recipe. If your friend really enjoys it, you can make it again. Thanks for letting me try it."

She turns to Aryia then, even while the Mul is being hugged. "More?", she wonders of the woman, making two little fists.

Aryia would have more to say, but she is suddenly scooped up into a hug. Lifted off her feet. She kicks a bit, a choked, hacky laugh in her throat as she squirms some to return the embrace.

A moment to hold it, and she wiggles free with a soft smile before turning to Simony. Seemingly in a good mood now, she bobs her head. "We can continue. But you will need to break soon to reflect." <Handspeech>

"Thank you, and I am sorry for the interruption," Aya offers to both with a bowing dip of her head. She leaves teacher and student to their exchange as she closes back up the pot and stows things. "I should get this to him while it's still warm. Afterwards, if you are still here, sister, might I indulge in some of your stones on the mountain?"

The Goblin cants her head curiously on talk of stones on the mountain, and she glances to Aryia again. She grins broadly then and nods. "I can break now, to reflect. And I'll come at you more, next time, yes?"

Looking to Aya, "Thank you again for inquiring as to my opinion on your breakfast. I wish your friend well. I hope to see you again soon. I know I'll be back here on the morrow, for further lessons."

Aryia shakes her head at both of them. "No. Stay," she points to Simony. "There are some things I want to discuss. Then I will dismiss you."

She smiles to Aya. "I can show you a new spot, yes. Come to my house at dusk, we can go there." <Handspeech>

-End Scene-