[The moment his body resolves itself to this sparring match, it tells a story. She learns his training, his opinions on violence in general, not just towards women. She learns his power on a more intimate scale, not just seeing it like she had before but feeling it, experiencing it for herself and feeling a thrill at the discovery of a new, competent partner, but something about it makes her sad as well.
How long has he felt isolated, alone? It's all through him as his fist comes closer, as she takes his wrist and guides his punch past her so that it doesn't connect. Her grip on him is oddly gentle, more of a suggestion to move than forcing it, guiding the momentum instead of pulling him where she wants him.
Her other hand strikes out, the force of it pulled but not the speed, and she aims it directly at his jaw. If it connects, it will daze him but he'll stay on his feet. Nothing will break, but she'll get a sense of exactly what his body can take. If he blocks, which she thinks he may be able to despite how large he is, she'll see how much power he can put into it, how much strength comes from the very core of him.
Either way, she's happy. Her eyes are attentive to his body and the movements he makes, the things he tells her wordlessly, but she's smiling softly as she strikes at him. This is her world, this is her language. Of course she'll smile when all she has to think about is movement.]
[He thinks of tai chi, the movements and motions like water, and when she guides his strike he doesn't resist. There's no point, even if he could overpower her it's just an unnecessary energy expenditure for both of them. It's been a long time since a fight has forced him to be flexible rather than rely on crushing force, but he always has liked a challenge.
When she strikes out at him, he mimics her, his deflection isn't a powerful blow but a redirection. His initial strike had been with his left, the deflection with his right, and time seems to be too-slow around them. An adrenaline rush.
He steps in close, not under her guard but sort of through it, and tries to shoulder-check her to the ground. He's hyper-aware of each move she makes, nowhere near her level of sophisticated understanding but certainly with all the hallmarks of a man ready and willing to learn.]
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(no subject)
7/11/14 22:52 (UTC)How long has he felt isolated, alone? It's all through him as his fist comes closer, as she takes his wrist and guides his punch past her so that it doesn't connect. Her grip on him is oddly gentle, more of a suggestion to move than forcing it, guiding the momentum instead of pulling him where she wants him.
Her other hand strikes out, the force of it pulled but not the speed, and she aims it directly at his jaw. If it connects, it will daze him but he'll stay on his feet. Nothing will break, but she'll get a sense of exactly what his body can take. If he blocks, which she thinks he may be able to despite how large he is, she'll see how much power he can put into it, how much strength comes from the very core of him.
Either way, she's happy. Her eyes are attentive to his body and the movements he makes, the things he tells her wordlessly, but she's smiling softly as she strikes at him. This is her world, this is her language. Of course she'll smile when all she has to think about is movement.]
(no subject)
8/11/14 20:17 (UTC)When she strikes out at him, he mimics her, his deflection isn't a powerful blow but a redirection. His initial strike had been with his left, the deflection with his right, and time seems to be too-slow around them. An adrenaline rush.
He steps in close, not under her guard but sort of through it, and tries to shoulder-check her to the ground. He's hyper-aware of each move she makes, nowhere near her level of sophisticated understanding but certainly with all the hallmarks of a man ready and willing to learn.]