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Post by Nomz on Sept 13, 2024 0:50:16 GMT
Damian notices that Shiva steps forward into another one of his attacks and takes note of it, even as he tries to spin to strike her shoulder. She ducks low in a move he cannot immediately punish, not with the momentum he's built up.
The young lad completes his spin, turning to face Shiva again as she attacks. He knows better than having a tool in his hand and merely taking a blow to his chest. His instincts scream in response, training sliding to place in this moment. The bar comes up to block the attack. The metal groans for the barest second before it snaps in two.
His eyes widen just a fraction, realizing for the first time just how much strength his opponent is willing to put into this battle. His feet shift through an uncoordinated stumble backward. He'll need to end this sooner rather than later. Shiva offers no relief as she comes through with another kick.
Where she has folded to get out of reach of his horizontal strike, Damian crouches low with his newly gained 'escrima sticks' in his hands. It all comes down to timing. If he is fast enough, he will spring the moment her leg is over his shoulder. He intends to imbalance her by catching the underside of her leg on his shoulder and surging forward. If he succeeds, he plans to swing out at the knee she stands on with his escrima stick.
If he isn't quick enough, Damian would be too close to immediately back off. He would attempt to hook his foot around the leg she stands on to pull it out from under her while shoving his shoulder into her torso.
Either way, if she fell, he would go with her. While Shiva had not pursued him while he was down, he expects she would want him to follow her. Her ability to end this fight is not in question. His is. If they tumble to the ground, Damian would be quick to try and press a jagged edge of his new weapon to her throat. Never enough to bleed.
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Post by darkkon on Sept 13, 2024 6:06:54 GMT
Reaction. The boy's skill was not so blunted as to be unable to block her first kick. Snap. Shock, if but only for a moment. Perhaps he had forgotten her lack of withholding grievous force, accustomed to the forgiving blows of the Bat’s fledglings. He must be reminded of the danger he faces. Stumble, but corrected before punishment, what was once one weapon now becomes two. He adapts. Low crouch, narrowly avoiding her follow up sweep, action. Her leg caught by his shoulder as he springs forth. His skill may not be so blunted, but his judgment was.
As he took aim for her standing leg Shiva would hook her caught leg inwards at the knee, with her current orientation the back of her lower calf would crash in upon the shoulder blade of his striking arm with bone cracking force, and she would pull. However, her caught leg was not alone in action. At the same time Shiva would twist her torso upwards, curling inwards towards her caught leg while retracting her free leg off the ground, both poised to strike and raised to avoid his swing if he managed to follow through after her caught leg made contact.
At this point, with the weight of her falling body and the added momentum of her wrenching into his forward path, Shiva would strike out hard with her free leg. Her target, the boy’s lead knee. The goal, shatter. Whether she struck home or he shifted his leg enough in the heat of the moment to avoid the blow, Shiva would carry the momentum of her twist in an attempt to spin their fall so they’d land first on the side of her curled back, roll slightly, then slam onto his likely wounded striking shoulder.
She would then push the ground with her back, following the momentum to right herself and pin him, back upon her calf, chest under her thigh. Her free leg would raise to stop the tumble here. Her gaze cold and unmoved, hands still in pocket where they would stay but on one condition, if there would come to be lethal intent behind the bar he was aiming at her neck. Otherwise, she would not move. Would he relent? Carry the tumble in a new direction? Or make her move.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 14, 2024 2:16:30 GMT
Damian is aware of his mistake the moment he feels her knee bend and her calf crashing into his shoulder. His teeth grit as pain echoes out from the injury like the epicenter of an earthquake, but he does not cry out nor does he tear up. Pain is something, above all else, that he is well acquainted with. He feels her tug him forward, increasing the momentum he was already working with. This fall is going to happen.
That does not stop him from shifting his legs, trying to regain control of the fall and their movement. If he had been more skilled, more aware, he would have simply blocked her attack with his escrima stick. Instead, chance seems to be on his side just this once, and he merely feels the passing of her foot.
He can't control the spin as much as he would prefer and is unable to stop them from landing on his injured shoulder and- god, does the pain roll through more violently this time. They land with Shiva above him, hands in her pockets and pinning him despite the weapon he has aimed at her neck.
Those green eyes stare up at Shiva, lips pulled back in a snarl, and breath labored under her weight on his chest. He could push, and shift with his legs to turn the position to pin her. He could proceed with a more lethal attempt with his weapon. Or...
Damian schools his expression. He was at a disadvantage when this fight started and he's only added to those disadvantages since. Further struggle could only result in further injury. This isn't the league. He doesn't need to train until he shatters. This isn't Gotham, she won't hold back if he tries.
"I relent, Mistress Shiva." Calm and collected. The lad lowers his weapon, letting the metal clack on the concrete floor under him. He minds his manners even as his shoulder screams in agony. "Thank you for the lesson."
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Post by darkkon on Sept 14, 2024 5:39:51 GMT
Contact, pain, though he keeps control. The shift of his legs as he attempted to regain control of the fall spared him a shattered kneecap to accompany his shoulder, narrowly, though it did not spare him the pain of a wounded shoulder crashing forcefully onto the cement floor. Less control. Even with the flare of anger he now showed the boy could not bring himself to make a lethal attempt upon her life, jagged edge of shattered steel resting upon the skin of her neck but pushing no further.
Anger, pain, breath straining under her weight upon his chest. The boy calculated his options. Fight? Or relent? Expression calmed, control regained. A decision. - ”I relent, Mistress Shiva.” - His words ring true, accented by the clang of metal dropped on concrete. Disappointing. - ”Thank you for the lesson.” - Shiva would stare down at him in silence for a short moment, studying him with cold brown eyes. ”Hm.” She accepted his surrender, her disappointment readily apparent in tone as she stood, lifting her weight from his chest and pulling her calf from under his back with no caution for his injury.
After standing, Shiva would turn back to her student, gaze as cold and unphased as ever. ”Sensei.” She’d correct him as he stood, her tone blunt but not chiding. He was her student now, she would be addressed properly. ”The lessons have yet to begin.” She’d continue, foreshadowing just what the boy was in for once they began in earnest. But first, preparations. Once the boy was standing, Shiva would finally loose her hands from her pocket, reaching out to grab his shoulders firmly but not forcefully.
Her gaze remained cold, but there was no aggression in her actions. Though his wounded shoulder would likely object, experience would tell him it was wise not to resist. She would guide him to turn so that his injured shoulder was facing her, where she would briefly look it over. Then, her hands would shift, her fingers spread along pressure points atop the shoulder and over his shattered blade. Pain, sharp for a moment, but it would fade. His flesh would remain bruised, a reminder of the mistakes he must overcome, but he would feel bone and cartilage mended anew.
”Next-door. Top floor, south west wing. Noon, three days from now.” She’d speak as she repaired his shoulder, tone commanding but not threatening. Instructions to continue their lessons. Then, as soon as she had finished, she would turn and walk towards a tarped over window opposite the side of their entrance. ‘Less he gave her a reason to stop or speak, nothing more would be said, and she would take her leave to plan for the days ahead.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 14, 2024 20:07:53 GMT
Damian keeps his breath as even as he can, expression perfectly blank as Shiva stares down at him in silence. He knows that he has broken an expectation. In the league, it was expected that he would push until either he or his opponent collapsed. Relenting was not an option that would go unpunished. Somehow, her disappointment hurts more than any of those punishments.
He remains calm and pliant as she detangles herself from him and he does his best to curl in a way to protect his injured shoulder. It does almost nothing. Keeping his eyes on her, Damian sits up and pulls his legs under him before standing. Wary of another attack, the lad decides to keep his weapons in his hands.
"Yes, Sensei," he acknowledges as soon as she corrects him. Damian keeps still as Shiva removes her hands from her pockets and grabs his shoulders. A muscle in his jaw jumps as he fights against the pain to keep his mind as clear as possible. Her actions are not aggressive nor poised to kill as she turns him so that she can address his shoulder.
The sharp dagger of renewed agony spikes through his chest as her hands work to repair the shattered bones. For all of his faults and shortcomings, one would never hear the lad cry out in pain of any sort. Even his hands remain relaxed at his sides as he feels his body stitch itself back together.
Damian nods in understanding to the simple instructions that he is given, committing them to memory almost immediately. The option to further train under Lady Shiva is more than he had hoped to achieve when he left for his run this morning. As she walks away from him, the boy dips his upper half into a short bow of thanks.
"Thank you, Sensei," he would say to her retreating back. A soft beep would draw his eyes to the smartwatch Barbara had gifted him and his brow would pinch in mild annoyance. There is no way now for him to arrive on time for lunch with his sister. Not one to give up, the lad would turn towards the opposite end of the building and job for an exit.
It would only be at the bottom of the scaffolding's stairs that he would set down his escrima sticks.
END THREAD
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