Holding The Line


magnes_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Holding the Line
Synopsis In their first training session, Magnes and Sable discover the latter has a remarkable knack for defense.
Date April 6, 2010

The Lighthouse

The snowy exterior.

Unlike most of the city, Magnes has been keeping the Lighthouse relatively clear outside, getting rid of snow every few hours. But it's morning and snow has accumulated pretty high again, so after getting the doors cleared, he walks out with Sable, only wearing his long black leather coat, zipped up and flowing to the tops of his knees. He instructed her not to wear snow pants, just a warm coat and some boots and gloves. He's standing across from her in the snow now, taking a deep breath. "We can't be out here long, it's cold, but this should help a bit with the wind chill and the actual snow."

He closes his eyes for a moment, holding his hands out as if he's preparing to do something rather impressive. Then suddenly snow rises in his general field of gravity, then heavily slams in on itself, creating a thick ten foot igloo around them. There's no holes or anything, instead, he pulls out a large flashlight, shakes it up, and lets it float to the ceiling so it can light the entire thing. "First I'm gonna see what you can already do, that work for you?"

Combined recklessness and trust causes Sable to ask no questions about the paucity of personal insulation Magnes insists upon. Surely he has some idea. If she looses valuable fingers as a result, well, she'll just have to take it out on Magnes' own appendages. She tells his as much as she suits up. She leaves the specifics of /which/ appendages pointedly ambiguous.

Once out in the snow, she shifts from foot to foot, until Magnes invokes his power. Upon the completion of Magnes' magnificent construction, Sable grins, turning around to appreciate this expression of his power. "Nice fuckin' work, Nanook of the North," she says, moving over to one wall and thumping a fist against it. She turns back to him, rolling her shoulders, a minor limbering-up. "Lez do this."

Magnes starts walking over to her, cracking his knuckles. She's yet to see him do anything violent if she missed the whole punching a dog in the face thing, but that all changes in the next moment. Without much warning, he swings the back of his right fist, trying to hit her in the side of the face with it. He's not going for any serious damage, but he wants to see how she reacts.

Sable is /mostly/ expecting this; if not this than something like it. Still, there is momentary surprise on her features, but not one that seems to effect her reaction time. She leans back, taking a staggered step backwards, dodging the blow with more or less neatness. She flashes a grin as Magnes' knuckles find air. "That all? Ain't this supposed to be a lesson?" she goads, because that's just how she rolls in a fight.

Magnes suddenly picks up the speed, nearly doubling it, but it's still not as fast as he normally punches. A part of him wants to hold back to properly teach her, and another part is just plain afraid of hurting her. "We're just getting started." Before his fist even gets near her face, his other hand reaches in to pull her forward by the jacket to hit his fist even sooner.

For someone who claims to need training, Sable's instincts seem spot on. His grab at her jacket produces a sidestep, then a step back to evade the punch. She blinks as the fist whips past her face. "Good. Y'said this'd hurt. Don't disappoint me, now," she comments, breezily enough. She pivots on her heel, waiting for his next advance. "Uh… 'm I supposed to try 'n' hit back?"

Magnes certainly wasn't expecting Sable to be so fast, so suddenly he just stops holding back. Though he's not using his ability, he can still hit pretty fast and hard, starting to throw a flurry of punches, and occasionally jumping back to throw some long kicks. His kicks are significantly faster and stronger than his punches, she'll notice.

Something's up. Way up. Sweat beads on Sable's forehead, and her breath comes in rapid pants as Magnes' goes into full onslaught mode, but, in a way that clearly surprises her even beyond her natural cockiness, /nothing hits/. There are some /very/ close calls, and numerous times Magnes' boot tip catches onto the surface of her jacket, and his fist comes bare millimeters from scoring a glancing hit, but nothing more.

She can only keep this up so long - he's in much better shape than her, and her endurance won't last. Her motions slow, but even as they do, her evasions grow less hasty, more foresighted, until their one-sided sparring session starts to look more like choreography than combat. Finally Sable gives a wheeze and falls back onto the ground, arms raised defensively. "Ffffuck!" she rasps, "Uncle! Uncle!" She clutches her stomach and takes shuddery breathes.

After taking a moment to secure the flow of oxygen to her brain, she looks up and Magnes. Her confusion is understandable, and her question natural: "What… the… fuck… was that?"

"I have no idea… I've never had that much trouble hitting someone." Magnes seems to have to catch his breath a bit himself, holding his hand out to help her up. "What did you say your ability was, again?"

Sable waves his hand away, still gulping for air. "Gimme… a second…" she groans. She gives a half wretch, then flops back onto her back, eyes staring up at the white dome overhead. "Jesus fuckin' Christ…" she says, her reclining position more conducive to the diaphragmatic breath she so badly needs right now, "Fuck man, I… off the record? And only cuz you asked and don't you breath a word, cuz I gotta line to hold here, y'know?" she slowly props herself up on her elbows, eyes lifting to him, "I just dunno. Didn't think I even had one, 'cept apparently that test ain't wrong."

"Alright, let me think… Taskmaster… Doomsday… Spider-Man…" Magnes' brain seems to be mulling things over, then he reaches into his pocket for a glowstick when she's not looking. It's not glowing yet, but he immediately turns around and tosses it at her, aiming right for her forehead.

She didn't see that one coming. The glowstick strikes her directly in the forehead. "OW! Jesus!" she cries out, falling back again as her arms rise to protect her face against any other sneak attacks. "You better gimme a reason for why you did that, and good fuckin' reason too, elsewise I'm gonna turn your life into the ninth fucking circle!" Which won't be /too/ hard considering all the ice and snow on hand.

"Sorry, I was testing. I thought you might, like, have spider sense or something." Magnes walks over to place a gentle hand on her forehead, checking to see what damage he might have inflicted. "Do you feel a tingling sensation?"

"Naw," Sable grumbles, "More like a /painful/ fuckin' sensation." It's nothing to speak of, the blow to her head. It was a glowstick, for God's sake. She's just being mutinous. "I wanna be clear: I'm interested in figgurin' this out, okay? But I am /not/ interested in givin' you an excuse to throw all sorts of shit at me."

"You know I wouldn't wanna hurt you, Sable. I thought you were gonna dodge it, or catch it." Magnes warmly smiles, then removes his hand from her forehead. "Other than your head, do you feel any different? And what do you feel right before you dodge?"

Sable arches a brow, but she actually doesn't have enough spare energy to be a pain in the ass for the sake of it right now. "Uh… I see you, like, tryin' to hit me. So I move out of the way," she shrugs, the winces, "I dunno. Eventually, even though I was gettin' tired, it got sorta… easier, I guess? Cuz you'd been tossin' all this kicks and shit at me, but you sort of do it the same way? Not, like, every time, but you know?" Each statement ends like a question, like a kid who's being quizzed and is afraid of just /stating/ something, in case she's wrong. "People got habits fightin' just like anything else."

"Huh, so it's like… you have some sort of… defense-based photographic reflexes, or something. Or maybe you have full on photographic reflexes. You should try fighting back next time, then we can test it." Magnes stands up straight, then waves a hand and the igloo bursts into the air like a poof of dust. "Let's get inside, I'll make you some hot chocolate with marshmellows."

Sable drags herself to her feet, not bothering to brush herself off - she'll need what she's got to get back inside and collapse on an appropriately soft surface. Hopefully they haven't all been colonized by the puny residents. "Not a fuckin' word," she reiterates, "I got a line to hold."

"You know you can trust me, Sable." Magnes unzips his coat as they head inside, locking the door behind them. "I'm gonna get breakfast started for the kids, you rest and wait for your chocolate."

All for the best that Magnes didn't have her suit up too heavily. She kicks off her boots and shambles towards the couch, shedding her gloves and coat as she does. "Move it or lose it, munchkins," Sable warns. Justin and Lance, who were stretched out on the couch in cabin-fever induced listlessness, scoot aside to let Sable toss herself over the arm of the couch and land on her side, eyes towards the TV. "What were you doing?" Lance, ever inquisitive, asks. It takes the remainder of Sable's taxed reserves from making a joke about his mother, which would have been the very height of poor taste. "Diggin' tunnels in the snow. Piss me off, and you'll be livin' there," is her gruff reply. "Really? Awesome!" Justin says, Sable's attempt at intimidation falling as flat as she herself just did. She turns her face down into the couch cushion. "Put on a goddamn movie," she mumbles.

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