So You're The One [Blake/Invite/Staff?]

[Bailey Oleander]

A dozen different answers came to mind at once. Training, yes, but there were so many possibilities that...

Her thoughts slammed into a wall as she pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. She was overthinking things. Again. Better to start with one foot in front of the other before letting potentials overwhelm her. She opened her eyes and started right up at him, despite the fact it was enogh to put a crick in her neck.

"Alright, let's go with the understanding that I do not have any experience or preference for this, and the general feeling that my original thoughts are going to be met with either 'no' or 'what else?'. What I do think I would prefer something that isn't too large. Preferably blunt, but I'm willing to let go of that idea if you have something particular in mind." She raised her hands, a heated flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Knives would be good, but you have the knowledge here. I don't."

[Blake Oleander]

"Why blunt?"

He'd give her a quick glance over his shoulder. She looked pretty weak. A sharp weapon would help her against a tougher foe over a blunt weapon. He had a hard time imagining her bludgeoning someone to death."

[Bailey Oleander]

The question made her pause, the rising flustered feeling fading as they seemed to be making progress. The red on her cheeks remained as he looked her over, assessing. The kind of looks that usually resulted in dismissal for her from this.

"Because I am not a violent person. Because you can still cause damage or make someone stop without cutting them." She hadn't gone so far as to consider bludgeoning someone to death, which may or may not have been the best.

[Blake Oleander]

"So because you are non-violent you find it more appealing to crush bones and bludgeon someone to death rather than pierce their flesh?"

She confused him.

[Bailey Oleander]

"...No." This...this was the exact opposite of what she thought, though Bailey was beginning to realize just how far over her head the considerations were. She shook her head, but it didn't do anything to clear her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, this probably sounds ridiculous to you." She couldn't see herself bludgeoning someone to death. Trying to stop them from assaulting her, yes, but death...her stomach flipped again.

"I'm not considering this with the idea that I'm going to have to go killing someone." Again, the visible displeasure on her face. "I suppose knives, then, or a sword." She tried not to cringe at the mental image as she said the words. It felt so wrong on so many levels.

[Blake Oleander]

"If you are raising a weapon against someone you need to be prepared to use lethal force, and expect them to use lethal force against you."

He thought that much would be obvious. They were weapons of the Academy were they not? Sent to quell threats from other territories and maintain order. It wasn't a stretch that they would be going against people willing to kill and die for their causes.

"I can teach you to use a sword or knives. Or if your heart is set on blunt Escrima sticks may work."

[Bailey Oleander]

Her heart was setting on turning around and heading back into the building, but that seemed a poor choice at this point. There was no telling how long she would be here, or what these skills, if any, could do for her back home. Unlike Blake, she did not operate under the assumption that she was going to either kill or be killed. It was possible, but arguing the fine points was like trying to convince a brick wall that it needed to turn into jelly.

At least they were making progress. She paused for a moment at the options he presented, mulling over her options as well as her decision. Was she really going to do this? But she was already assigned to a partner, and they would be in the middle of the action, whatever it was they did. Just as her power had limits in range, they would need to be able to rely on each other on some level. At the end of it all, as much as every fiber in her being screamed protests at the idea of killing, she felt the sinking in her gut at the idea of being dead weight. Useless. She squared her shoulders at the thought.

"Let's go with escrima sticks, then."

[Blake Oleander]

"Understood."

That was all he had to say on the matter. When they arrived at the training area he'd enter a code to open up one of the training weapon lockers and he'd pull out two small sticks. About an inch in thickness and thirty inches in length. He'd also put out a training knife for himself, which he'd tuck behind his belt before handing her the sticks.

"These are Escrima sticks. I want you to hold them, get a feel for them, swing at the air. Whatever you need to do to be familiar with how they feel in your hands."

[Bailey Oleander]

She followed him to the training room in pensive silence, wondering just what he thought he was going to accomplish. Much to her relief, Blake pulled out a training knife and handed her the sticks.

"Okay." Taking them in hand, she looked down at her grip, getting a feel for the sticks. They were solid, but thin enough for her to hold in her smaller hands. She took a step back, turning away from her partner a bit to get a feel with the swing. They didn't feel long enough to be awkward, no more than the act itself felt to her. After a couple more swings, Bailey nodded and looked back at him.

"These are good."

[Blake Oleander]

He nodded.

"With those weapons, you will want to look at hitting joints. Wrists, knees, and the like. Also do not be afraid to hit someone in the head with them. No one's going to go easy on you, so don't get yourself killed."

He pressed his lips together, closing his eyes as he let out a slow exhale through flared nostrils.

"I'm going to come at you with this training knife. I want you to block my arm with yours, and then hit the inside of my arm with your stick to deaden the nerves and then knock the blade out of my hand. Understood?"

[Bailey Oleander]

Her eyes flicked to the joints as Blake mentioned them, shifting her weight and grip as he took a deep breath. She felt like a three-legged kitten getting ready to go up against a wolf, even with the training knife. Her lip twisted at the edges as she resisted the urge to bite at it, taking in the instructions she was given.

It felt like he was speaking half gibberish. The words made sense, but every task he added brought up a dozen possibilities and the bleak understanding that this was going to be an uphill battle at best. Blake knew it, too. She wasn't even going to touch on the headshots.

"I understand." One foot shifted back as she spoke, following what little she had picked up from....books. Yes, we're going to call them books.

[Blake Oleander]

And as soon as she said she understood he'd draw his knife and swipe for her midsection. Hard...

Surely she was quick enough to block him and bring his arm up so she could strike back at him!

Surely...

[Bailey Oleander]

And thus Blake's hopes were dashed like an ocean wave against a rocky shore. Bailey's arm would start to raise to deflect his strike, but she was nowhere near fast enough to stop the blade from striking her torso. She let out a startled sound and tried to shake the sudden surge of pins and needles as the area he struck went numb and wood cracked against flesh. Or was that bone?

Why was he her partner?

[Blake Oleander]

And she failed. Well, that just meant they needed to do it again.

"Again."

And he'd strike again. Just as fast. Just as hard.

[Bailey Oleander]

Just as before, Bailey failed, though there was progress in the fact she could actually raise her arm enough to take the blow more than her midsection did. She grit her teeth, already expecting him to push her at it again.