(Untitled)

[chaincutter]

Who: a_slayer_slays and chaincutter
What: A friendly spar
When: July 9th, midday
Where: The Barracks
Summary: A couple months and a few minor bouts of Luceti-wide doom later than expected, Sigmund is finally giving Buffy that shield demonstration he promised.
Rating: PG/PG-13 depending on how serious they get about things

Comments

[slaying]

Combat always brought up such tough questions for Buffy Summers. What should she focus on? How should she hold herself? Which weapon should she bring with her? But--most importantly--what should she wear? Pumps were a bit too full of bravado. A skirt, though viable, still raised complications with raising hemlines. Hair up, or down? That mattered less.

When Buffy finally did leave the house and head for the barracks, she didn't carry an umbrella on her shoulder. Instead, a replica of her home-favourite scythe. As she walked from house forty-seven, Buffy keenly took the opportunity to muse on who had forged this scythe for her. She had given the specifications to Edward shortly after she had settled down in Luceti; while the weapon did not pack the same supernatural punch as the real one, it did not otherwise disappoint

[chaincutter]

The scythe drew his attention, and he gave it a quick glance even before he answered her. It was hard to be certain, but he thought he saw Edward's craftsmanship in it. The man had a way with metal.

That done, he finally broke his statuesque stance and picked up the wooden shield he brought with him. With one of his own followers, someone from home, he might have simply held it out and made them come to him. Buffy was not one of his followers, and he wasn't sure of the proper boundaries. To be safe, he closed about half of the distance and offered it out to her.

"For later."

...No one would ever claim that Sigmund was a man inclined to polite conversation. Not even Edward.

[slaying]

"Let me guess," she asked as she reached for the shield. "Does later include dessert?" A smile, slight and uncertain, accompanied her quip. In Buffy's mind it was clear that she did not actually mean dessert; instead, she means the fun part of the spar. The part beyond the sizing each other up and the mutual testing of boundaries. The part that most of her combat-oriented relationships had long ago reached. The Slayer had to admit that it was strangely nerve-wracking. Like a first date, only not quite as scary. Ha.

But if it was indeed for later, then Buffy decided to set the shield aside. She kept her scythe close despite the fact that she was just as cozy with hand-to-hand as melee. If she looked at all professionally wary, it was when she sized up his armour. She could not assume this man was just another mortal. Not in this village--things rarely worked out that way.

[chaincutter]

"I know one recipe with no vermin," he joked, not that it was easy to distinguish from anything else he ever said. He would probably have more luck with humor if everything wasn't delivered completely seriously. ...Although, truthfully, that could be taken as a legitimate warning

[slaying]

"Sounds delish." No, Buffy couldn't tell if Sigmund had been joking or not but she had decided to err on the side of flippancy, anyway. When in doubt, quip. It was a mandate to live and slay and die by. One more buffer between Buffy and reality. But her voice sounded distracted as humour began to take a backseat to vocation. Her gaze narrowed and she began to enter that habitual space of combat calculation. He was larger than her. But they usually were. He was better protected than her. But she'd never bothered with armour, before. He wasn't even drawing his weapon. Well, that was his problem--not hers.

The Slayer gave her scythe a few slow, lazy turns that ended with the stake-side out and the bladed side beyond her elbow. This position was much more effective for a vampire than a human, but it also kept the wickeder part of the weapon closer to her skin than to that of her spar-partner. She healed fast. Accidents would be coped with

[chaincutter]

Sigmund was already waiting for an attack the moment he straightened. In fact, as accustomed as he was to his enemies practically climbing over each other for the privilege of killing him, it was surprising that it took three whole steps. As soon as her weight shifted for the kick, his mind was running through the possibilities. They weren't conscious thoughts -- he'd moved well past needing to think about battles -- but intuition drawing from long experience. That was his way. He just... knew

[slaying]

Buffy had been burned by not feeling her opponents out in the past. Even people who were not opponents had suffered under her lack of discretion; for example, Buffy hated remembering the day she had accidentally broken Doc McCoy's arm. After nearly ten years of being a Slayer, she had strength control down to a fine art but she had been five months sans-power, here in Luceti, when a sudden shock of strength had returned at the most inopportune moment

[chaincutter]

Something colliding was Sigmund's intention, just not all of him. A sudden screech of metal announced his putting on the brakes, and the momentum turned his torso even further away from her. Unfortunately, this meant that he had no choice but to take the hit with a loud clang, as it caught the edge of his armor

[slaying]

If Buffy had known about Sigmund's current condition, she would not have been so gung-ho about this little date. Instead, she could only watch with admiration as he took the hit. Something not strictly human, then--such was her verdict. She would have to modify her strategy accordingly. Up the offence and tread a bit more carefully.

But this decision was made too late to be effective come the shield blow. She was floored by the blow, but managed to hit the ground with a semblance of dignity. Tucking in her shoulder, Buffy transitioned into a side-roll in order to transfer the momentum from the hit into a way of keeping just out of Sigmund's reach.

She had certainly felt the shield. Her abdomen burned where it had caught her; however, that wasn't such a new sensation and there is only the slightest suggestion of her favouring her left hip. Two seconds and she was springing back to her feet with just as much verve as before. Her stance dropped; she kept low. Buffy charged in and hoped to get past the shield by feinting once closer.

[chaincutter]

To be fair, he did tell her once, not that he expected she would remember. It was better this way. He didn't enjoy being treated as if he was helpless and fragile