Practise yard

[there_is_a_me]

Spoon is almost impossibly glad that Blink was able to bring him back those crutches. Lack of mobility is SO not his thing. Granted, he still can't put enough weight on the twisted ankle to really suit his tastes, but he'll adapt, dammit

Comments

[notanoptimist]

"Hey... should you be doing that?"

Dropping his armload of concrete (and it's a small armload, admittedly) Sokka walks over near Spoon, frowning a little in concern. You've got cruches man - and a busted ankle.

"Do the doctors even know you're out here?"

[there_is_a_me]

Spoon looks up. "Lily fixed the bones," he says, "but I won't bother her for healing the wrenched bit unless it's dire need. If I don't get out here and do summat I'll go mad, or start usin' the ceiling for target practise." Which some might consider the same thing. "They sent me out of the infirmary last night anyway, so they ought to know I'd do something like this."

Which probably means 'no'.

[notanoptimist]

Probably. But Sokka's not overly inclined to care so long as the man isn't hurting himself. He even looks a little amused as he smiles and steps a little closer to peer at the target. "They let you have a bow in the infirmary? Or-- well, what would you throw at the ceiling?"

[there_is_a_me]

"Nah, they put the bow back in my room," Spoon says. "But they didn't take away my whetstone, so I sharpened my knives. And my fork. And my spoons, 'cos I had a lot of those. And then I took one of the knives and sharpened a couple of chopsticks. Did you know you can get a spoon to stick in the wall if you sharpen the bowl end of it enough?"

[notanoptimist]

...kay.

Sokka just raises a brow and looks at Spoon like he might not be the brightest crayon in the box. "...Nope, didn't know that."

At least he's sticking to real weapons now, though.

"Hey," it's not something that's just occurred to him, but it seems more important now to ask, "how come you know so many different kinds of weapons? I know you were in the army, but-- I mean, you couldn't have fought with all of them."

[there_is_a_me]

"I was bored," Spoon says in response to the look. "There's no books in English to read here but the Book of Dangers and the Book of People. I can only do push-ups for so long before my arms start bitchin' at me. When all you've got is a whetstone, everything looks like an edge."

He selects one of his arrows as Sokka asks his question. "Nah, I didn't learn most of it there," he says. "There's societies in England where people try t're-create battles and food and clothing and such out of the past. Not for actually fighting, most of the time. They go at each other with blunt weapons and soft edges, but they're tryin' to keep the old traditions and skills alive. I was in one of those for a while back home. Taught me to swing a sword and use a bow. The Army taught me knives and guns. Had to teach myself the axe and the potato cannon. Weapons're what I'm good at, same as some people're good at music or fishing."

[notanoptimist]

Sokka's never really been sure of what to think about Spoon - he likes that he works with other, harder weapons than guns and he likes that he's intelligent enough to construct them himself. But it vaguely bothers him that the man doesn't seem any more affected by killing something with a sword than he would with a gun.

But that's not the point - Sokka's bothered by a lot of things that apparently don't matter at all.

"I never learned archery," Sokka replies and starts to crouch down where Spoon is so he can watch him with the arrow. "We didn't use it in the South and there was a lot of other stuff to learn the more we traveled - I didn't really have the time."

[there_is_a_me]

The arrow is slenderer than a wooden arrow of its weight would be, dark grey, and fitted with green vanes instead of feathers. Spoon rotates it carefully so one vane points straight up before nocking it. "Can't imagine there was much call for it on the ice," he says. "It's a woodsman's weapon back home. Or a distance hunter's-"

He draws, holding the arrow just at full draw for several seconds. Then there's a flick of his fingers, and thoq! goes the arrow through where Spoon estimates the main mass of a Magog's heart would be.

"-but if y'don't have polar bears where you are, I imagine you'd get by with spears and such."

[notanoptimist]

"We've got elephant-bears - they're big and white and blend in with the snow. Really damn dangerous, too, so we don't hunt them much. But when we do, spears were enough."

He watches the arrow get drawn and tossed, frowning slightly, thoughtful and considering. It's not that he never wanted to learn another weapon - it's that he knew so many already. The spear, the boomerang, the club, the machete, the knife-- he'd figured that was enough. The real problem was learning how to fight without a weapon.

And sometimes... weapons were more important. The Magog had proven that and they weren't done proving either.

"...Can you teach me?"

[there_is_a_me]

"Sounds like polar bears," Spoon says. "Biggest one I heard of was eight foot long, nose to rump, and when he stood up on his hind legs- well, he was damned big. Get that with spears and I'm bloody impressed."

There's another arrow in his hand, but not nocked yet, when Sokka asks. "Sure," Spoon says, looking up. "Likely not with this bow, though. Here- try drawing it. You might need to start with one of the others I brought back instead."

He'll show Sokka where the fingers go, and nock the arrow for him, but he's not expecting Sokka to reach full draw on a bow that'll punch through an elk. It's just that you don't take a chance on dry-firing a bow, especially not a strong one.

[notanoptimist]

Sokka is a lean, nearly skinny kid, growing fast and probably tall, with shoulders that aren't quite broad, aren't quite skinny. And while his arms are obviously well-muscled where his shirt-sleeves end, what's noticed is more that he's skinny and lean.

So it may just surprise Spoon that he's able to lift the bow, nock an arrow, and draw back entirely. A teenager, yes, but the teenagers of a tribal world grew up far differently than those of the 21st century.

Nonetheless, his hold wavers, the bow trembling slightly, and he can't aim correctly, though it's obvious in the strain of his arms and fingers (not to mention the cross look on his face) that he's trying.

[there_is_a_me]

Well, the thing about the muscles used in archery is that they're trained to the control of live weight, not dead iron. Gary Sentman, for many years the world record holder for heaviest longbow drawn and successfully fired, was somewhat less physically impressive than Sarah Connor. Skinny? Not necessarily a drawback in archery, Spoon knows.

But he nods and says, "All right. Ease it back down if you can. Let it fly if you can't. Best you start on the thirty-five pounder. You need to learn the form before you step up to the bigger bows, and there's exercises that'll help too."

[notanoptimist]

Good to know.

Start slow, work your way up. Learn on a wooden boomerang and work your way to the metal.

Except Sokka started with razor sharp, jagged-edged metal.

His eyes narrow and he aims the same way he would for a spear - a straight, direct target. Granted, he misses by about six inches, the arrow lodging at a point above the fake-Magog's left shoulder.

Besides the real issue was how the bow jarred his own shoulder when he let it go like that, making Sokka grit his teeth and hand the bow back so he could rub his shoulder.

"Okay. I finished your boomerang, by the way, but it's still inside."

[there_is_a_me]

"Be glad that's a compound," says Spoon as the boy winces. "A longbow that weight would smack your hand so hard you'd have trouble straightening your fingers for a while. You get used to it after a while, though. Won't be that bad once you're up to the task."

He nocks and draws.

"Now, see- this little thing here in the cable? That's a type of sight. Line it up with a point on your target, so you don't go up too high or over too far."

He lets fly. It hits home pretty well.

"Yeah? Looking forward to that," he says with a grin. "Though I'll likely knock meself senseless learning."

[notanoptimist]

"I'll probably knock myself senseless with this thing, too, if I'm not careful," Sokka replies, smiling back as he rolls his shoulder and then lets it sit. If he's going to do this, he's going to have to toughen up for it. He might have muscle, but what he needs now is pain-tolerance.

And won't that be fun to get.

He grins a little more at Spoon's apparent excitement. "Count yourself lucky - I make Zuko set his on fire. The worst that could happen to you is getting a headache."

[there_is_a_me]

"Do yourself a favour, meantime," Spoon says. "D'you know what push-ups are? I've been doing 'em for exercise in the infirmary 'cos I can't get out and train with Iroh. Best way you can strengthen your back and your shoulders for pulling a bow, and your arms some, too. If I find enough small springs I'll show you another way."

"I can live with headaches, long as I don't blind myself or somethin' by mistake. Not like army training's exactly a walk in the park, either."