「fourteen ☠ voice」

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Never again. That memory is not... Never again.

What is the date here? And... when people think of time, what do they think of first?

Comments

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[locketdangle]

[After his round of patrolling, a duty that was more of a nuisance than anything (he was only doing it to keep up appearances, after all), he approaches the police station. At the door, he peaks inside, unsure who to look for since he hasn't yet seen Sephiroth. After a moment of simply watching, he steps inside.]

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[withoutawing]

[Sephiroth sat at a desk, buckling his thigh high boots into place. Sitting near his arm was a basin of pinkish water and a scrap of cloth holding several pieces of glass, a couple nails and a thin knife. A tall, silver-haired man, he was naked from the waist up, his long hair braid and held back from his face by a strip of leather. As he stood and stamped his feet, the wing sprouting from his right shoulder stretched a little.]

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[The man he saw was so tall, it made his eyes widen in surprise. Who was this? While he knew that among the many people here, there were those with skills and abilities he had yet to comprehend, actually seeing someone like this surprised him. Swallowing down a small noise of surprise, he stepped further into the room, hands clasped in front of him.]

U-um...

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[withoutawing]

[Nodding to himself that he had maange to get rid of all the rubbish stuck in his feet, Sephiroth turned, his wing folding against his back, and tilted his head to the side.]

Rolo Lamperouge?

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[He gives a brief nod, shifting so that his feet are shoulder width apart. He's aware of how he appears: a young boy, timid, naive. And he wonders if Sephiroth will hold it against him or assume he is weak.]

Yes.

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[withoutawing]

You said you were used to firearms and knives?

[He looked small and young, and Sephiroth was reminded of first year cadets. It was something he expected, and he picked up the thin knife off the desk, making sure it was clean and dry before holding it out hilt first.]

Show me a little of what you can do with a knife.

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I did.

[Instead of taking the knife that Sephiroth offers, he slips his hand inside the pocket of his cargo shorts. There is a blur as his hand moves, long and callused fingers deftly flipping the knife open. Without his Geass, of course, he knows that he would not be able to as easily pull off the moves he usually does. But he moves anyway, the knife spinning in his hand as he hefts it and then throws it forcefully towards Sephiroth, the aim intentionally off just enough that without hindrance, it should pass the taller man and become embedded in the wall behind him.]

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[withoutawing]

You should have tried hitting me.

[His mako-green eyes didn't even blink as the knife went pass, and he tosses his knife up, plucked it from its free-fall and sent it to the wall as well.]

The only sword I have with me is the Masamune. Since it is nearly my height, I think you should start out with learning some katas and hand-to-hand.

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Why would I attack a fellow officer?

[He asks quietly, tilting his head. He's not stupid. A man of that stature would most likely overpower him, especially without his Geass. And attacking someone on the force so soon would too quickly reveal his position. Instead, he nods.]

I don't know what a kata is. But I am willing to learn hand-to-hand.

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[withoutawing]

[Sephiroth couldn't hide the little half-smile that formed on his lips, or the way his wing just sort of shakes as if something was funny. In a way it was; he was nearly at his full strength and speed and something as simple as a regular knife never had a chance to reach it's mark.]

To see if I could catch it or to see how much strength is in your arms. It's of no matter - most swordsmen's strength comes from their core and back.

[He went over to the wall and pulled both knives out. Placing them both on the desk, he folded his arms over his chest.]

Kata is a form used in sword work, usually to help drive the movements needed into the muscles so that you don't have to think about it.

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I see.

[The only motion he makes is to tilt his head, watching with a slight hint of curiosity in his lilac eyes. As Sephiroth speaks, he silently stores the information, memorizing it.]

A conditioning, then?

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[withoutawing]

Yes. In pitch battle, the last thing any swordsman needs to think of is where his arms and legs go, and how to hang onto his sword.

[It made him wonder about the little trooper Strife and his suppose skill with Angeal's infamously large sword. Troopers didn't learn the katas although it was part of the training program for future SOLDIERs. He pushed the thought away, studying Rolo for a moment.]

I think you're best suited for agile strikes and feints than sheer brute strength. But, that training is just as painful as the ones for strength alone.

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[Blinking slightly, his expression betrays nothing. Inwardly, he is digesting the idea of more conditioning, more training. It's been a while since the Directorate had almost forcibly taught him how to properly fire a weapon, how to slit just the right artery, or how to piece together the perfect bomb. He remembers it all, of course, having had to learn from such a young age. He picks things up quickly, so even if it's painful, he'll learn this too. At the least, he tells himself, he can use it to protect Lelouch.]

I'm not afraid.

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[withoutawing]

Good. Let's start with some basics. Try to match me blow by blow.

[It had been a while, Sephiroth admitting to himself. The simple steps were so ingrained that it took him a moment to remember how to hold his arms up, how to curl his hands loosely. He couldn't use actual fists against a non-Mako person, and his movements felt unnaturally stiff to him as he slowed them down so they could be seen, but he ran through the pattern of block and attack. Grabs and holds would come after.]

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[Subconsciously chewing on his lower lip, his brows furrow in concentration and he mimics Sephiroth's actions. His hands curl into fists, a strange notion for him having never thrown a punch. It doesn't take long, though, for him to pick up the pattern, having been raised to learn things quickly, efficiently. Like a machine. Like a robot.]

Like... Like this?

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[withoutawing]

Yes.

[He doesn't comment on that, instead he changed the pattern, breaking it up with blows aimed for other parts of the body besides the head and chest. Kicks to the knees, and moves to the ribs and groin, but still keeping it fairly simple and not allowing himself to actually make full contact. His strength was still unsteady and he did not want to send the slight young man into the wall from an unguarded punch.]