Post by teevee on Jun 8, 2018 16:57:50 GMT -5
The scene opens to a well lit basketball court with a fencing strip rolled out along its center. Two lean and long limbed duelests of similar height and build dash back and forth at each other, ducking, lunging, and generally looking like white clad stuntmen for a Pirates of the Caribbean movie as they slash and stab with their lightweight weapons. Anyone familiar with the sport of fencing will quickly recognize that they are fighting by saber rules. One of the competitors is clearly female, the tight fencing suit doing little more to conceal Tee Voland's figure than her ring gear and her black hair just visible from beneath her mask. The other is just as clearly masculine, but still lean of build for his height with a long blonde pony tail hanging from under his own headgear. Behind them, sitting in the front row of otherwise empty small set of bleachers, behind a small table with a laptop and a few other devices on it, is the young Milla Voland, idly blowing a bubble with her gum that looks about as big as her head.
On the fencing strip Tee drives her opponent backwards with a rapid flurry of jumping slashes of lunges, nearly out of bounds for the point, only to have her final lung parried and counter slashed to take back the initiative. Rather than retreating, however, Tee ducks while dropping into a split beneath her opponent's blade and slashes up into his abdomen with her own.
BZZT!
Milla's bubble pops and somehow doesn't splatter all over her face. She gathers her gum back into her mouth as the other two step apart and remove their headgear. The fair haired young man, who looks like he may or may not need a razor yet, has the same icy blue eyes as his sisters.
Lex: How the hell do you move that fast?
Milla: You're just slow. Seriously, fifteen to three?
Lex: I don't see you doing any better.
Milla: You both got a freakin' foot of reach on me. What's your excuse?
Tee: Cool it, twerps.Lex, you're getting better but you still follow through with your moves too much. Like that last point; if you hadn't put too much force into your parry you'd've been able to counter quicker before I could dodge. Fencing is like combat ballet, not dueling pinatas.
Milla tosses each of her siblings bottles of Gatorade and talks around her wad of bubblegum, somehow managing to speak clearly while still chomping on a mouthful of chew putty.
Milla: Actually, you'd probably get better practice for your match this week by whacking on a pinata. Without the blindfold.
Tee snorts over her beverage.
Tee: You do have a point. Though I suppose a heavy punching bag would be better. The pinata would swing faster and make hitting it too challenging. I'd be over training. I have this theory that John Blade is actually some kind of experimental combat android, like whoever built him wants full on terminator type shit. But they're not doing very good at it. John Blade isn't even good enough to be called a joke. It would make perfect sense for him to be a malfunctioning high tech battle drone.
Seriously, what does he do except lose matches and spout words that don't even form coherent sentences. I've seen more coherent dialogue from poorly translated JRPGs for the super Nintendo in nineteen ninety-four than what he said about me. I think it was about me. He said my name once or twice but he seems, as best I can guess, to think I'm a man. That's one dull blade. I'm seriously not sure if I should be happy for the easy match or insulted for facing that smacktard.
On the fencing strip Tee drives her opponent backwards with a rapid flurry of jumping slashes of lunges, nearly out of bounds for the point, only to have her final lung parried and counter slashed to take back the initiative. Rather than retreating, however, Tee ducks while dropping into a split beneath her opponent's blade and slashes up into his abdomen with her own.
BZZT!
Milla's bubble pops and somehow doesn't splatter all over her face. She gathers her gum back into her mouth as the other two step apart and remove their headgear. The fair haired young man, who looks like he may or may not need a razor yet, has the same icy blue eyes as his sisters.
Lex: How the hell do you move that fast?
Milla: You're just slow. Seriously, fifteen to three?
Lex: I don't see you doing any better.
Milla: You both got a freakin' foot of reach on me. What's your excuse?
Tee: Cool it, twerps.Lex, you're getting better but you still follow through with your moves too much. Like that last point; if you hadn't put too much force into your parry you'd've been able to counter quicker before I could dodge. Fencing is like combat ballet, not dueling pinatas.
Milla tosses each of her siblings bottles of Gatorade and talks around her wad of bubblegum, somehow managing to speak clearly while still chomping on a mouthful of chew putty.
Milla: Actually, you'd probably get better practice for your match this week by whacking on a pinata. Without the blindfold.
Tee snorts over her beverage.
Tee: You do have a point. Though I suppose a heavy punching bag would be better. The pinata would swing faster and make hitting it too challenging. I'd be over training. I have this theory that John Blade is actually some kind of experimental combat android, like whoever built him wants full on terminator type shit. But they're not doing very good at it. John Blade isn't even good enough to be called a joke. It would make perfect sense for him to be a malfunctioning high tech battle drone.
Seriously, what does he do except lose matches and spout words that don't even form coherent sentences. I've seen more coherent dialogue from poorly translated JRPGs for the super Nintendo in nineteen ninety-four than what he said about me. I think it was about me. He said my name once or twice but he seems, as best I can guess, to think I'm a man. That's one dull blade. I'm seriously not sure if I should be happy for the easy match or insulted for facing that smacktard.