† [[Going Through The Motions]] † :: Open, In Progress
Who: Buffy Summers, Aisling, Basil Padmore {{Still open to anyone - will edit and add as people jump in.}}
When: A day after she gets her new sword.
Where: Empty Building {{Map Reference - #13}}
Rating: PG. {{For now; will update if/when it's necessary.}}
Summary: Buffy's training. She's found some fairly beat-up, beyond repair furniture and is using the pieces of wood as targets, training a bit both with and without her new sword.
The already-battered wardrobe didn't stand a chance against the precisely aimed roundhouse, and it cracked and collapsed both with the force of her foot and the sliding slam into the wall that followed. Fighting in nice, funeral-grade heels wasn't nearly as easy as her normal shoes, and at that moment, she would've given just about anything for that pair of nice leather boots, with a much thicker heel made out of much better material for absorbing the shock of her varying connecting kicks, and those several different movements that involved flipping and landing heavily.
She followed the wardrobe as it cracked back against the wall with a well-placed cartwheel, cracking the rest of it into splinters. She stood for a moment, poised to fight still (though her inanimate "enemy" presented no defense), and took a long, deep breath. Finally, she relaxed, and her eyes moved to fix on the new, very nicely crafted sword, leaning against a wall just waiting to be used for the first time. It had been awhile since she'd used a weapon like that. The last thing similar to it that she'd used was the Hammer of Olaf, which happened to be much larger, and heavier, and more difficult to wield. She looked forward to the smooth slice of a freshly crafted blade.
She strode over to it, her fingers gripping the hilt and getting a feel for it. Using both hands, she began to swing it, twirling it in circles in front and behind her. It was a series of complicated gestures that required an amount of skill that she'd only achieved from years of training, but she was a bit rusty. Being dead tended to do that to a person, she figured. A half-broken desk sat across the room from her, and she charged it with the weapon. It spun easily through the air, and she twirled it as easily as if it were a baton, making a clean slice down the middle of the most solid part of the desk.
"Not too bad for a dead girl," she remarked to herself. She held the sword up to her face and examined it for a second or two before dicing the pieces of desk into quarters, then shoving the sword in from the top, point-first, to pin the "beast" in place. She brushed her hands together as if dusting them off, then placed her hands on her hip. Buffy gave the desk a cocky-head tilt, looking over her work. "Not too bad at all."
When: A day after she gets her new sword.
Where: Empty Building {{Map Reference - #13}}
Rating: PG. {{For now; will update if/when it's necessary.}}
Summary: Buffy's training. She's found some fairly beat-up, beyond repair furniture and is using the pieces of wood as targets, training a bit both with and without her new sword.
The already-battered wardrobe didn't stand a chance against the precisely aimed roundhouse, and it cracked and collapsed both with the force of her foot and the sliding slam into the wall that followed. Fighting in nice, funeral-grade heels wasn't nearly as easy as her normal shoes, and at that moment, she would've given just about anything for that pair of nice leather boots, with a much thicker heel made out of much better material for absorbing the shock of her varying connecting kicks, and those several different movements that involved flipping and landing heavily.
She followed the wardrobe as it cracked back against the wall with a well-placed cartwheel, cracking the rest of it into splinters. She stood for a moment, poised to fight still (though her inanimate "enemy" presented no defense), and took a long, deep breath. Finally, she relaxed, and her eyes moved to fix on the new, very nicely crafted sword, leaning against a wall just waiting to be used for the first time. It had been awhile since she'd used a weapon like that. The last thing similar to it that she'd used was the Hammer of Olaf, which happened to be much larger, and heavier, and more difficult to wield. She looked forward to the smooth slice of a freshly crafted blade.
She strode over to it, her fingers gripping the hilt and getting a feel for it. Using both hands, she began to swing it, twirling it in circles in front and behind her. It was a series of complicated gestures that required an amount of skill that she'd only achieved from years of training, but she was a bit rusty. Being dead tended to do that to a person, she figured. A half-broken desk sat across the room from her, and she charged it with the weapon. It spun easily through the air, and she twirled it as easily as if it were a baton, making a clean slice down the middle of the most solid part of the desk.
"Not too bad for a dead girl," she remarked to herself. She held the sword up to her face and examined it for a second or two before dicing the pieces of desk into quarters, then shoving the sword in from the top, point-first, to pin the "beast" in place. She brushed her hands together as if dusting them off, then placed her hands on her hip. Buffy gave the desk a cocky-head tilt, looking over her work. "Not too bad at all."