[Alexandros Skouriá]

It had been an uneventful day, the sort that was filled with lectures and not much else.

Alex made his way to the accommodation block he would be calling home for the next few years, and with as much tact as a bored, tired teenager could muster opened the door to his room. He needed something to do -- something to wake him up, more than anything -- after such a mindless day of schooling. For a minute or two, the youth stood deep in paralyzing thought over just what to do with the afternoon; the city was always an option of course, but it wasn't one that was kind to his bank account. Ideas came forward and retreated back into his brain with the grace and efficiency of a well-oiled machine, yet none had managed to really capture his imagination. Suppose I'll just train, he decided, better than nothing. In no rush, he had changed from his uniform into something more casual, and stuffed a clean change of clothes into a duffel bag along with a towel and canteen of water. That'll do it, he assured himself.

Haven's indoor facilities were certainly a sight to behold. The larger complex was divided into a number of smaller groups, with some of those groups themselves being divided down again for one reason or another. First on his list would be the aquatic centre; it was a behemoth of a thing, offering far more pools than it needed to, with the star of the show being a huge, heated, multi-lane affair. Alex had never been all that fond of swimming earlier in his life, but took quite a liking to it in the two-or-so years he spent before his acceptance into the academy. Previous distaste aside, the young Skouriá stripped down to no more than swim trunks and dove off into the chlorine-rich blue.

Some thirty minutes passed, all of them spent cutting laps back in forth in different stroke combinations, sometimes aiming for speed in his traversal from one side to the other and sometimes instead for his own mental review of how 'technically' he moved. None of his times were terribly impressive, but he knew they did not need to be; it was more important, Alex decided, to simply get better at what he could already do, and not waste willpower on setting records beyond the occasional personal best. It was an effort, to be sure, but one worth undertaking in the name of his growth as a Huntsman. Satisfied, Alexandros crossed the items off his mental checklist and prepared to move on to the gym. This, as he so acutely understood, was where the fun could truly begin.

Dry? Yeah. Clean? Yeah.

Instinctively slipping on reinforced gloves as he walked, the boy made his way to the gym, then to the sandbags and speedballs where he quickly found that he was not alone. Alexandros paused, and used the moment to fully absorb what he was seeing. Standing there, in proper stance, effortlessly throwing combination blows at the heavy target, was a small young woman. Her movements suggested that -- not unlike Alex himself -- she was another prospective champion who chose to use the body as a weapon, but there was something awkward and uncanny to it. Between the exertions and dull 'thuds' of impact with the sandbag, mechanical sounds faintly clanked and whirred; it was only on a second, closer inspection that he noticed the peculiar brace affixed to her.

Alexandros thought for a moment on whether it'd be right to say anything at all, lest he spoil what was so obviously a keen focus from the tiny boxer. As he umm'd and aah'd in search of words, the veritable assault on the sandbag came to an end in a hard punch driven all the way up through her right arm. It was nothing to sneeze at. Only a scarce few months had been spent during his training over the last few years learning how to box, but it was enough to appreciate the spectacle in front of him. Rigidity and mastery of form and execution was a skill the boy did not possess and instead almost actively avoided, knowing full well that he'd get stuck in his own head whenever the time may come. Were he a professional martial artist -- or, indeed, an amateur -- then things would have been different. The thought was not unfamiliar, and the internal dialogue long-since done to death; in his heart it did not matter, for creativity and adaptability was that which had so firmly impressed upon his soul as a Huntman's greatest asset.

Still, he did wonder: this girl was here. She had obviously proven herself to be capable, no doubt through a demonstration much the same as the one he had just seen. If it was worthy of recognition from those far greater than he, then the least which Alex could offer was his own appraisal.

In the end, he opted for a simple and well-pointed truth.

"Nice form." Alex chimed with a grin, though with enough hush to the two simple words to not catch her off-guard. He himself had been startled by all sorts stupid little things when his mind was deeply focused on a task, and so took some care in the way he made his presence known. "You must have a good coach, huh?" It was a question which he hoped may spark a decent little conversation, though not before addressing something more important.

He slipped off his right glove and offered out a hand to shake, introducing himself with nothing more than his name and a smile. "Alexandros," he said.

--

WC 947/947

[Aegle Verdant]

It had been an eventful day, the sort where nothing seemed to go quite how Aegle had wanted it to.

Her morning had been spent the way near all of her mornings were spent; She'd gotten out of bed before the sun had risen, hours before even Carmin woke up, and had spent those hours in Haven's gym. Aegle, ever since she was eight, had good days and bad. Today was a bad day, one where constant focus and concentration was required to make her body perform even the simplest tasks, and it had made of her morning exercises an utterly exhausting endeavor. By the time she was done and changed into her uniform, she'd been barely able to stand with how worn out she'd been, and the day had only just been beginning. What had followed was a few hours of monotonous and seemingly pointless classes, which she was nonetheless required to pay attention to, despite most having little to no bearing on actually being a huntress. Doc had freed Aegle from the majority of her elective classes, but there remained some mandatory courses, covering everything from mathematics to history, which could not have seemed any more unrelated to fighting the Creatures of Grimm.

Making the issue worse was the fact that Aegle hadn't ever really developed the scholastic skills most trainees took for granted; It was only through paying stringent attention to everything that was said, most of all the seemingly irrelevant details, that she was able to so much as pass most of her classes, and that was an effort require monumental amounts of energy all on its own. Good or bad as the day might be, there were few classes that did not leave Aegle feeling utterly worn out by their end, and fewer still were the classes that were not immediately proceeded by another, equally exhausting, equally irrelevant, class. Then there had been her 'routine checkup' with Doc, where the seeds which Aegle had been sewing for well on two weeks finally bore their bitter fruit. Ten minutes in to an especially savage 'sparring exercise', Aegle had been forced to confess entirely too much to a woman she did not especially like nor especially trust. It had been a humiliating and dreadful experience, whose after shocks would be felt for the remainder of her stay at Haven.

Usually, the end of the days classes would have heralded some sort of relief. On a good day, Aegle might have wandered the campus or the surrounding Cloud District in search of new sights, faces, and experiences. Except her meeting with Doc had wholly soured Aegle on the subject of other people and the inherent beauty of nature; All she'd wanted to do was collapse or hit something, and stubbornness and force of habit wholly precluded the former option.

That was how she found herself back at Haven Academy's gym a couple of hours before it was her custom to be there. Usually, Aegle would be starting her evening exercises just as everyone else was heading off to supper or whatever manner of leisure they filled their nights with. It was an arrangement which suited the crooked girl quite well, giving her near enough to free reign over the facilities and equipment, without any prying eyes or distractions. The gym right after classes was a different beast however. Most of the trainees in Haven seemed to be there, making use of one amenity or another, leaving precious little space for someone like Aegle, who was not especially fond of training where others could see her.

Again, stubbornness and force of habit had won out and, despite her misgivings, Aegle had started going through her routine. In spite of how crowded the facilities were, she still mostly had the heavy bags to herself. Most of the trainees were more interested in practicing with their weapons or various suites of equipment than training their unarmed skills, and those who did practice some sort of hand-to-hand fighting style tended to prefer practical exercises and forms, over simply pummeling a punching bag for an hour or two. Aegle practiced forms too and, on any normal day, that was where she would have started. Today, however, she'd gone straight to the heavy bag, and laid into it with all the ferocity and lack of any real stopping power she had at her disposal.

She'd attacked the bag so aggressively to start with that, and with so little in the way of preparation, that it hadn't taken long for Aegle to roll her wrist. That was bad enough on its own, it was a painful mistake to make, but she'd damaged her brace in the process, warping one of the actuators which braced the joint. The same actuator, it turned out, that Niraya had repaired for her, Aegle's first week at Haven. Lacking a work bench or any real privacy to correct the issue, Aegle hand been forced to cannibalize a similar part from her hip joint. The piece was bulkier though and, in trying to cover up her repaired wrist, Aegle had torn the sleeve of her hoodie to the elbow. The one Paeon had given her. Suffice to say, the heavy bag was made to pay for that travesty as well.

Angry, tired, frustrated, and wholly uncomfortable, Aegle could be forgiven for not noticing when she attracted an audience. To her, the world was shrunk down to only what was in range of her fists, as she bent all her will-power and effort to the one single thing she was actually good at. Nothing beyond the canvas and leather, the warmth of breath, the pounding of her heart, mattered to her. She was fixated on the heavy bag, and moved between guards and forms and combinations without giving the rest of the world a second thought. That is, until a quiet voice intruded upon her meditative violence.
"Nice form. You must have a good coach, huh?"
Each word was a hammer blow to Aegle's concentration, and each carried with it the dual knowledge that someone was watching her, and had been watching her for some time. The realization arrested Aegle's knuckles a hair's breadth from the gently swinging bag, before her emerald eyes sliced towards the voice's origin, where they found an unfammiliar boy, with black hair and coppery eyes. Breathing heavily, Aegle was run through, first with embarrassment, to have had someone standing so close by without her noticing, and next with annoyance, to have been interrupted in the middle of her exercises.
It was few more heartbeats before Aegle actually understood the words he'd said to her, at which point she also felt guilty for feeling annoyed. Abashedly, the crooked girl tapped the bag with her extended fist, forestalling its gentle swaying, before dropping hands to her side, though her guard remained up. She did what she always did around strangers; Tried to stand up as tall as she possible, that the bow in her back and the hunch in her shoulders might be less immediately apparent.

With her surprise slowly abating, Aegle took better stock of the stranger. He was short for a boy, a whole head shorter than most of the male trainees, though that still put him about a head taller than herself. He was compact too, solidly if slightly built, with the suggestion of an athletic, if not especially powerful, frame beneath his gym clothes. He was also holding one hand out to her, while the other clutched the padded glove it had recently worn.
"Alexandros." He said, by way of greeting.
Aegle made herself smile, an expression near as crooked as she was, and made herself reach for his offered hand. Only then, in so doing, she remembered her torn sleeve, as it flapped free of her fore arm to expose everything up to her elbow. Hand, wrist, forearm, fighting wraps and, of course, the wrist cuff and lower armature of her brace. On seeing that glint of chrome and chipped paint, Aegle's hand froze, only part of the way to grabbing Alexandros'; She'd totally forgotten about her torn sleeve.
For a moment, she was unable to so much as breathe. Then, gritting her grin even wider, Aegle slapped her hand into the one offered and squeezed it for all she was worth. Not very much, as it turned out.
"M'Aegle," She told him, grinning, "Aegle Verdant. S'a pleasure t'meet'cha." Her words tumbled out basically atop one another, dripping with friendliness and affability, like they were in a hurry to make Alexandros' acquaintance. The wraps that swathed her arm, from elbow to finger tips, were wet with sweat, and Aegle felt their clamminess like oil on her skin, but she made sure to give Alexandros' hand a few good shakes all the same. There were red and pink stains around her knuckles too, with one of the deeper patches continuing to grow even as she squeezed and shook. Aegle was keenly aware of that too, but did not let it stop her shaking, nor reduce the size of her smile. In fact, she forced her smile even wider, and gave his hand a few more firm shakes, just for good measure.

Then, extricating her fingers, Aegle made herself raise her hand, exposed brace and all, up and raked her fingers through the thin brown stubble beneath her hood, briefly exposing her erstwhile baldness to the stranger, just in case he'd not already noticed that as well.
"My brother, t'answer y'question," He hadn't really asked, but it had been implied, "M'biggest brother, yeah? He taught me forms and how t'punch."
Tugging her hood back into place, hiding her near-naked pate once more, Aegle slipped her hands into the front pouch of her hoodie, before Alexandros could notice how much her fingers shook. Bold as she was trying to be, there were certain habits which were hard to break.
"Used t'let me punch his hands when I was still in Atlas. Now I make do with the bag," Aegle pointed out his own gloves, gesturing with her chin, "Y'box too, yeah?"
He was standing at the heavy bags after all, and those gloves were clearly meant to protect his hands. Aegle'd seen such gloves before and knew their purpose; They were common among hand-to-hand fighters who actually wanted to avoid damaging their hands.

words - 1,726

[Alexandros Skouriá]

"Sorry for sneaking up on you like that, Aegle," Alexandros said, smiling back as the two of them shook hands, "but I don't usually see these things getting put to good use. I suppose I was surprised."

Her knuckles were bloody beneath long white wrappings, a sign of dedication if nothing else, while the rest of her gave Alex an impression of immeasurable tiredness. Try as she might to hide it, the young woman was not full of boundless energy, and the boy knew that she knew he knew it. It was clearer now, closer, and with a better inspection, that the brace which Aegle wore was not any sort of weapon system or armour; it was there out of necessity. The reason why, or her history, he could not -- and would dare not -- think to ask, but it suddenly felt all too obvious from a few cursory glances and a handshake. For a brief moment the black-haired boy's warm smile slipped to an expression of pity, before bursting back into a full grin to match that of his newfound companion. There was no value to be found in second-guessing any part of why either of them were here, at Haven. Alexandros himself had barely made it through the enrolment process for the year, so he was in no place to wonder or speculate on the circumstances of a fellow classmate. Again, he thought clearly: the crooked and mirthful little pugilist simply could not be here by accident.

"My brother, t'answer y'question. M'biggest brother, yeah? He taught me forms and how t'punch." Aegle spoke with a shaky conviction as she answered the question. It was a direct and precise answer as one may have expected from a competent fighter like the girl, one which Alex appreciated greatly. He hadn't really found much time for small talk yet in his short time at Haven, and what little he had had with other students was not exactly that which he'd call a great conversation. This, though, was refreshing; it was honest.

"Used t'let me punch his hands when I was still in Atlas. Now I make do with the bag," she explained further. "Y'box too, yeah?"
"Not really; not well, at least." The answer came naturally, carrying traces of nervousness and embarrassment. It was such a simple and honest question, but it was one that Alexandros somehow could not answer succinctly. He used to box, sort of, for a few months, though he most certainly didn't box now. By the same token, the fundamentals of decent stance and proper guard were well and truly embedded in the mental codex of his particular fighting style, albeit in a highly hybridized pool from various teachers and ways of martial technique. He froze for a moment, cleared his throat, then spoke again. "I just hit things."

Alexandros slipped his plated glove back on and took place beside the girl at another of the heavy bags. While in his mind 'just hitting things' was an appropriate and logical answer to the question, there was no denying that it lacked nuance or detail. A demonstration was in order, Alex decided, much more so than rambling about his past training under so many coaches and masters throughout the city. After all, it would be disingenuous; none of what the boy and his trainers were doing was ever really official or formal in any capacity, and was instead a 'big-picture' examination of everything the youth wanted -- or needed -- to know. Standing across from the target before him, Alexandros adopted his usual stance. As with everything about his brawling, it was an amalgamation of multiple postures and defensive concepts all awkwardly blended together. It was less than the sum of its parts in many ways, but the deficiencies could be covered by clever application and distribution of heat from his Semblance. His body was very gently turned, left arm forward and right arm halfway chambered near his pectorals, both hands not quite tightened-up to full fists. As with his body, the boy lead with his left leg and stood with a slight bend in both knees to bring his profile lower to the ground and tightly centred. It was riddled with obvious weak points, but had proven itself competent enough to get him into the academy.

After a deep breath, a red-orange glow formed around his left and right arms from the elbow down -- the telltale sign of his 'Bloomery' in action. Let's go, he thought, a much more steely resolve suddenly manifesting on his face. Two quick jabs, a right cross, a left hook, and then a rather sudden high kick delivered from the right. Where the first three strikes had connected, the bag was ever-so-slightly discoloured and visibly stressed. Alexandros then settled back down into stance again, rolling his shoulders as he did so. If actions really did speak louder than words, then surely his little display had said enough. There was something almost boastful beneath it all, suggesting the pride in his acceptance as a prospective Huntsman stemmed largely from training and showing-off in ways not all that different from this. It was a strange side to his personality, he thought; with focus and a clearly visualized goal, Alex always became just that little bit more intense than his usual soft-spoken and kindhearted self, but it would always fade away just as quickly as it came to him.

"Something like that," the boy said, looking over to the hooded fighter once again. "That kick wouldn't go down so well in the ring, would it?" Alex spoke again, sheepishly, fully embracing the absurdity of the image in his mind. Only then, after this non-joke, did the boy stand upright, Semblance disappearing back into the aether, no longer playing out his part of a warrior. He turned to face Aegle proper, and idly tapped his fingertips together.

"Would you like to train with me? I could use some better guidance with... well," he started to ask, "everything."

--

WC 1003/1950

[Aegle Verdant]

Something flashed over Alexandros' face as she spoke. Something as unwelcome as it was recognizable. It started with the hand shake, with him following her fingers back to the pouch of her hoodie, and the ragged tear in her sleeve. Momentary flickers, though both those glances had been, they said volumes for eyes that knew to look for them. If it had stopped there, Aegle might have been able to bear it; Her brace was an oddity, and her hands abnormal, and anyone would be well within their rights to be curious about them. Not many people spent every hour of every day with the hands and arms swaddled in bandages all the way to the elbow. Not many punched their hands bloody in their daily exercises.
It didn't stop there though, just as Aegle had known it wouldn't. Slowly, there dawned the surprise; Apart, all of Aegle's abnormalities didn't say a whole lot, but together they painted a puzzling picture. Then came the comprehension, as the myriad pieces fell inevitably into place, as he saw each aspect of her, apart and as a whole, and understood what it all meant. Then, at last and worst of all, she watch something go out of his eyes. She watched his enthusiasm die, and watched as awkwardness was realized in its place. Aegle saw it spill across his warm expression like a cold tide, freezing everything it touched. And she felt cold too, to see that look, that painfully familiar look.
He rallied nobly, as they so often did; Only the most callous, the most cruel, sort of person would let that expression linger on their faces. Not that it changed how Aegle had seen the pity he felt for her, not that it made that pity hurt any less.

"Not really," Alex said, his face thawed and grinning once again, like nothing had happened, "Not well, at least; I just hit things."
As if to prove his claim, he slipped the glove back on and then squared up with the bag beside the one Aegle had been using. He adopted a stance which Aegle didn't recognize, though was still vaguely similar despite that fact. Suddenly, his face started to glow.
'No,' Aegle thought, 'not his face...'
Fiery glow suffused his arms from the tip of his fists to the bend of his elbows, painting the rest of his body in its rippling golden light. As he unloaded quick combo with the well worn care of practice, Aegle felt the heat that radiated off of him and watched how the air seemed to ripple above his punches.
'His semblace,' She decided before wondering, quite inanely, 'A flame which burns twice as hot...

"Something like that," Alexandros said, dropping his hands, which had already resumed their usual color, and turning to face her once more, "That kick wouldn't go down so well in the ring, would it?"
"I reckon not." Aegle answered, grinning, as she inspected where he'd punched and found the leather creased and discolored. A touch revealed it was still hot, even through the wraps on her fingers. Had he done that with just a momentary touch? Aegle yanked her hand back and then, remembering, tucked it hastily back out of sight. Not that sight of it could have damaged her much more in Alexandros' eyes.
"Would you like to train with me?" He asked her.
Aegle swung around and looked at him. She must have done so too suddenly, as Alexandros seemed to feel the immediate need to explain himself.
"I could use some better guidance with, well, everything." He said, smiling a sheepish smile. He had a rather handsome smile, Aegle decided.
'Wonder how it'd look without a couple of teeth.'
The image of Alexandros' cute, gentle countenance flashed into her mind, all covered in bruises and blood. She regretted the thought immediately, and just as quickly felt incredibly ashamed. He was just being nice after all, friendly. So what if he'd seen in her what all of Haven must have seen by this point? Even the professors knew Aegle was more useful as a cautionary tail than an actual huntress.
'Hasn't stopped me from imaginin' what Shadecloak'd look like with a blackeye though.'
Nor had it stopped her from feeling guilty afterwards.
'T'ain't like I'm too good for pity, anyway' only the proud had no use for pity, and Aegle was far from proud. Sixteen years had seen to that, 'Sixteen and five, twenty and one.'
"S'a real useful semblance y'got there," Aegle said, grinning wide, ignoring Alexandros' charity for a moment, "I see why y'learned t'punch."
Her accent squashed her words together, and they came tumbling out her mouth like they were in a hurry, all piled up one atop the next.
She took an ambling stride closer, one which exaggerated the limp lent her by her skew hips and twisted back, and bent down to examine his hands. It gave him a good look at her back and her shoulders, at how hunched the former was, how crooked and uneven the latter were. On shoulder was higher than the other by so much that Aegle couldn't use most exercise machines. She let him get a good look, a real good look. It made her skin crawl, doing it, but she knew he wouldn't be able to help himself. Nobody who looked at her the way he had, who showed her the face he'd shown her, could resist getting a better look.
Aegle reckoned it must be the same thing that made people watch scary movies or tell ghost stories, the same horrible compulsion that made people stare at the wreckages of airships and corpses.
She made sure to move her head back and forth as she examined his hands, and swayed where she stood, so he could hear her brace whining beneath her clothes. If he wanted to pity her, then she'd give him so much to pity that he'd choke on it.
"How's it work? Is it just heat? S'it just y'hands?" Aegle lifted her head, swinging it up suddenly, as if to catch him staring, "Why didn't it burn ya?"

Then, inhumanly as only she could, Aegle swung herself upright like a marionette on strings. It hurt, doing it like that, and made her brace squeak and click, but it was theatrical like nothing else. Her head lay, cocked to one side, resting on the higher of her crooked shoulders, and she leered at him, her smile a slash of white connecting one ear to the other.
"Well, I'll tell ya f'free," Aegle told him, "Y'guard is sloppy."
Then she shrugged, an especially grotesque offering, as difficult for her as it was unpleasant to look at. Her head bobbed up and down with her shoulder, while her fixed smile remained the same.
"Not that I reckon a sloppy guard makes a whole lotta difference t'someone who can make himself red hot, aye?" She giggled, and rolled her head to her other shoulder, just to show him how loose her neck was.
"Won't be much good around other huntsman, but you'll make any Grimm what hit ya regret it, won'tcha?" Aegle giggled again, like she was pleased at the prospect. She knew she had an annoying laugh and also knew she giggled like a crazy person, and so let him taste both.
"Yeah, I reckon I'll train with ya. Seems like your the third person t'ask me t'show 'em how t'box." Only Eva had never looked at her with pity, and Carmin actually seemed to think she was actually worth something as a human being.
"Dinnae why," Aegle heaved her shoulders again; It was just as grotesque with her head resting on her lower shoulder, maybe even more so, "M'trash, and just 'bout everyone knows it. Y'would be better off askin' Doc for tips on how to fight with yer fists."
Doc would pound Alexandros into a cute little puddle of paste. She'd actually feel sorry for him, if she hadn't also been learning from the good Doctor how best to throw a punch. Aegle had been pounded into a crooked and misshapen puddle herself on more than one occasions, and Doc was really good at making sure she didn't leave any lasting marks.
"Mostly I beat the bags," Aegle went on, coming at Alexandros as quick as her tongue would permit, "But I could make some time for ya to punch me around in one of the sparrin' cells. Would it be with or without semblances, y'think? Either'd work for me, I reckon. I ain't got a semblance after all. Just like I ain't got no hair, so there'd be no need t'worry 'bout it getting set on fire. Though, if y'could keep from burnin' off me eyebrows, I'd be proper grateful, y'know?"

words - 1,478

[Alexandros Skouriá]

She had seen it, and she had seen it clearly.

Aegle's demeanour changed completely as Alexandros scanned her over during their handshake, and he knew exactly why it had happened. The smile he wore had died, and in that moment she had seen every part of his heart and soul be overwrought with confusion, then understanding, and then sorrow; it was only a moment, but that moment had reduced her to something broken, and once again both parties knew everything there was to know. Well, almost everything. Where in Alex's mind raced an epiphany of purpose and destiny, something far darker was sure to be lurking behind Aegle's bright green eyes. Part of him wished so urgently to stop grinning and explain how it was all just a bizarre misunderstanding, but the boy knew better; to draw further, unwanted, attention to her in that way would be unspeakably cruel.

Instead, he pressed on. He unloaded on the bag and offered out his shaky attempt at comedy, and made it a point to smile.

Desperately searching for words, Alexandros tapped away at the back plate of his left glove in hope that it would somehow help him think. "S'a real useful semblance y'got there," she spoke up suddenly. The pressure he had invented shattered and ran away back into his imagination, and in its place came a huge pulse of relief. Then, she continued, "I see why y'learned t'punch."
"...Thank you."
"How's it work? Is it just heat? S'it just y'hands? Why didn't it burn ya?"

Her thoughts fell out, one after the other, all perfectly rising in complexity. They were good questions, too -- ones he had thought about ever since finding out he possessed the strange ability, and ones which would follow him for years to come on his journey ahead. Rather than interrupt, Alex let all four of them roll into his brain and snake through his mental library in search of answers, and only after finding them did he speak. "It converts my Aura into heat, and I can control the temperature by choosing how much to burn up as fuel; as far as I know it all starts at my hands and feet and goes from there, so it can be moved around my body a little bit." As he explained away, he brought his Semblance to bear once again in a dramatically reduced capacity such that Aegle could see its lower limits.
"Maybe I'm just lucky," Alexandros said, his voice becoming quieter much like it did earlier, "since it doesn't hurt me." He stood there, distracted by his own thoughts as his companion inspected closely. It didn't hurt him, yet. As he understood it, something in his subconsciousness or his soul prevented Bloomery from being self-destructive, but this was an educated guess at best. No part of him was ever really certain how exactly he was kept safe from the heat generated by his Semblance, but he was sadly confident that the protection couldn't last forever. He would get older and more restrained -- more tired from fighting the Grimm -- and beaten down by that which lay beyond the horizon. As with all things, there had to be an end; there would come a day where his Aura would break, and never truly fix itself. It scared him. Suddenly he was in the real world again; noticing the swaying, the boy instinctively placed both hands -- still gently warm with spiritual energies -- at her shoulders to steady her, for fear of an imminent fall.

Aegle turned up to face him, quickly making herself stand as tall as she could muster. Alex promptly retracted both his hands and dismissed what little heat remained as quickly as he could. In that insignificant, transitory little moment, he had felt her brace beneath that loose hooded jumper. He didn't mean to, but it had just sort of... happened. The two looked at one another, Alexandros' face blank and apologetic with embarrassment and Aegle's beaming in a great, big, maddening grin. Neither one of them was making things easy for the other. Promptly, and as earnestly as he could given how the last few minutes had played out, he started to apologize; the boy had barely squeezed out an 'I didn't mean' before he was cut off, the raggedy girl before him seizing the opportunity to steal the initiative and flow of their dialogue to stay in control of the scenario. He couldn't blame her for it, either, since it had been one giant misstep on his part from the beginning. Conversations shouldn't be this hard, he mused, but it's kind of fun. She pointed out -- rather accurately -- that his guard and stance were both sloppy and unfit for facing a human opponent, but would hold up in a battle with monsters. Alexandros wondered if she was speaking from any sort of experience, but the thought trailed off as Aegle continued to speak. She suggested a 'Doc' to see -- Doctor Haragitanai, he assumed -- before ultimately accepting his offer to train, mentioning in passing her lack of a Semblance and perceived deficiencies of skill. It was a lot of different things said all at once, and the boy simply nodded his head along as he took it all in. One part of it, though, did not sit well with him.

"Don't say that."

The three words came from him, much more precise and pointed -- yet still in that subdued and soft way as every other word he spoke -- to make themselves known. "That 'trash' thing," he clarified, "it's not right." Alex wore a smaller smile on his face, but it was painfully obvious to the both of them that he was finding it difficult to decide on exactly what to say. He'd already felt awful for that dark glint in his eye revealing itself, so he didn't want to make the matter any worse. After all, she was clearly playing-up just how different she was -- showing him in grisly detail exactly how much she needed that brace. The boy looked away, over his shoulder, out to the rest of the equipment in the gym, and to all the other students completely unaware of Aegle and himself. There were no answers or points of guidance out in the crowd. Alexandros knew very well that he wasn't an inspiring speaker, but he knew he could try; he may not have been the most energetic or boisterous, but he was genuine. The youth faced her yet again, and let out a sigh which morphed into a chuckle. "It can't be right, after all," he said. "If you don't have a Semblance and you're still here, to be a Huntress, then you're better than everyone else in this room right now." Maybe she'd think he was lying, or trying to make peace, but it did not matter: what he lacked in the ability to raise spirits through speech, he was sure he made up for in honesty.

He had said it, and he had said it clearly.

Pity had reared its ugly head in his eyes not long before, but it was well and truly gone now. In its place, something else flickered like fire, something rich with hope. "Come on," he said. "Let's go a few rounds; we can help each other out."

--

WC 1228/3178

[Aegle Verdant]

She could see it was working, could tell she was getting under his skin as only shamelessness and brutal honesty could.
'What's the matter?' She wanted to ask, 'Y'already saw, y'already know it's all true.' But she didn't ask. Asking would give the game away, and she wasn't quite done playing yet. She'd had eight years to learn every detail of her illness and condition that made people uncomfortable and, just then, she was fixing to show Alexandros every last one of them. Yet, it appeared that the boy broke first.
"Don't say that." Alexandros said, quiet but forceful, "That 'trash' thing, it's not right."
'Oh ho, what's this, Aegle thought savagely, 'Another stranger who thinks he knows my abilities better 'n I do?'
He might have been a bit more convincing if he'd been able to meet her eyes when he said it but, just then, Alexandros seemed to be looking everywhere in the gym except for at Aegle.
"It can't be right," he said after a moment and, with the way he was looking at the other trainees, it was almost like he was hoping one of them might agree with him. "after all, if you don't have a Semblance and you're still here, to be a Huntress, then you're better than everyone else in this room right now."
Aegle laughed. Laughed, full in his face.
"S'that how y'think it works?" She asked, face bright with amusement, head still lying on her lower shoulder. Who did he think he was, telling her she had to be strong because she was in a huntsman academy without a semblance? What could he possibly know about not having a semblance, about being useless and weak? He had the gal to pity her, but he didn't even understand what his pity had been aimed at. She couldn't decide if she ought to be angry or disgusted, and found she was only further amused.
"Come on," Alexandros said insistently, "Let's go a few rounds; we can help each other out."
"Oh aye," Aegle agreed, "I reckon we may; T'will be a learnin' experience for the both of us."
She looked past the crowd of faces and other gym goers, then hobbled over to her duffel bag and hauled it, with some difficulty, up and onto her shoulder.
"Sparrin' cells are this way, Hotshot," She said, limping past Alexandros, "Let's see if y'have what it takes to beat up Haven's weakest cripple."

---

Staring at Alexandros across the padded tiles, Aegle wondered exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it. Though it had been Alexandros' suggestion, she was the one who'd taken him up on it. She'd lead him to the cell without thinking, all while her mouth did its own thing, unchecked by even a modicum of common sense, and now it seemed she must fight him. It was not a prospect she relished, being honest, and, thinking about it a bit more clearly, she was sure she had overreacted a bit.
'Why?' she wondered, 'What'm I hopin' t'gain by this?'
There were only two possible outcomes to this situation, barring one or both of them suddenly coming to their senses and deciding this wasn't the healthiest way to get acquainted with a stranger. Either Aegle lost and proved her point at the cost of physical discomfort and humiliation, or else she somehow managed to beat Alexandros and, what, shamed him for it? Proved he was right, that she wasn't the worst fighter in Haven.
'This is so stupid, Aegle decided, 'Worse, it's kind of crazy.'
Of the two possibilities, the former was by far the most likely. She'd been training since a little after supper time, and was already tired from her exercises, and there had also been the thorough beating and healing she'd gotten from Doc earlier that day. She reckoned her aura couldn't have been above half its usually capacity, and she estimated it was actually much lower than that. At best, she'd be able to take two, maybe three punches, and that was assuming the boy didn't use his semblance. Nevermind that she was exactly as awful as she'd claimed to be, just some stupid, twisted girl, deadset on pretending she could be a huntress. What good would it do either of them to prove that point on the end of Alexandros' fist?
'I'll have t'spread it out, they way I do with Doc.'
Using less energy to block hits, she could conserve her overall aura, maybe get an extra couple of punches out of it, but doing that meant letting the blows that landed actually hurt her. It had been a necessary tactic against Doc, whose categorical might and ruthless fighting style could shatter Aegle in just a couple of hits, if she tried to stop them entirely. She'd never done it against a weaker opponent before, nor against a manipulator, and so had no idea how the technique might fair against Alexandros. Actually, Aegle had never fought anybody, outside of classes. She really ought to call this off; She couldn't prove anything worth proving by fighting Alexandros, and she was likely to lose a whole lot of face in the trying.
"Since y'so convinced me, with y'chattin' 'bout semblances, I reckon y'ought'a use yours, yeah?" Aegle grinned broadly, slipped her hands out of her pocket, and stepped back into a mixed guard, "Y'better use it, wouldn't wanna gimme any unfair advantages."
Her hands shook before her, trembling noticeably with every beat of her heart. Her heart was beating quite quickly, it seemed.
"On the count've three, lemme see what'cha got. First t'shatter loses, aye?" Aegle's emerald eyes narrowed, her fists clenching and unclenching.
"One..."
There was a couple of strides between them, too much distance for her to clear quickly and still throw a half decent punch. He'd see anything she tried coming, and he had the superior reach. It'd be better to let him come to her. His fighting style rough and unrefined, more of a brawler than a boxer, and he'd want to be close to get the most out of his semblance. She reckoned he would come for her.
"Two..."
Which hand though? Would he throw a jab first, or go straight for a haymaker. He might try a kick, but she doubted it. He wanted to punch, to use his fists, otherwise she'd have seen him use his foot a couple more times when he'd been hitting the bag. Haymaker, Aegle was guessing, or maybe a hook. Either way, it would be coming from the back. If she stepped in, just as he was getting in range, she might be able to slip a jab past his guard before he could throw the haymaker. Doc would punish her severely for such an impudent move, and she hardly expected to hit, but there was only one way to find out.
"THREE!"

words - 1,159

[Alexandros Skouriá]

The boy stood across from his sparring partner, an expression halfway between trepidation and foolhardy confidence spreading across his face. Aegle had effortlessly led him to the combat chamber, laughing maniacally at his comments on the way. His bag was set down in one corner of the room, with his outermost layers of clothing thrown inside leaving him in just slacks and a dark undershirt.
"On the count've three, lemme see what'cha got. First t'shatter loses, aye?"

One.

Alexandros found himself counting along under his breath as Aegle gave them their lead in. First and foremost would be a good stance and controlled breathing. As in the gym, he stood with a slight turn and his right side further back for the sake of generating power, left arm slightly outstretched. He considered very briefly an orthodox boxing stance to give the girl something more familiar, and to rule-out everything in his repertoire that was surely illegal in the only system both of them knew. The thought retreated as her earlier words came back into clear mental view, about 'unfair advantages' for what was building to an explosive opening in the cell. Alex emptied his mind as best he could, and gently nodded his head to a rhythm only he heard.

Two.

His stance tightened for a moment. His hands fully balled up into fists, and both arms were pulled closer toward the rest of his body. She was playing him, reading him like a damn book. He had asked for guidance, she suggested a fight, and the stupid fool accepted the challenge with glee. There was something about the young woman standing there which prevented Alex from stopping. Maybe it was the mind-games; she was in his head and he was taking the bait, and neither one of the two could bring themselves to stop. He believed with every fibre of his being that Aegle, as promised, possessed no Semblance, for there would be no reason to lie about such a thing, yet he believed all the same that she was not as weak as she first appeared. That reflexive, fleeting flash of pity had changed something in the both of them, and brought Alexandros wildly out of line. From his perspective this was amity, a shared interest in the martial arts, but his perspective was not appreciated; he had no idea of this girl, or anything about her; it was unfair of him to try and heap his own ideals unto her. But it was far too late to try and stop, now. She was waiting there, expecting a fight with trembling hands, and demanding that the Skouriá boy bring his full might -- and he was doing it; to do any less would invalidate all he said in the gym, and render him nothing short of pathetic in her eyes. With readiness and anger unfairly washing over him, Alex focused hard and brought Bloomery to its highest calefaction.

Three.

Alexandros stepped forward. It was so fast that he wasn't able to stop it from happening, and as the step was taken the whole world around him slowed to almost nothing. I don't want to do this, he thought a million times. What was he doing? Really, what the fuck was he doing? Aegle didn't want this either, she was just playing along with his needless optimism and trying to get under the boy's skin -- and she had been doing it expertly. After all, for those three moments, every part of him was screaming while no part spoke up and stopped. Had he really almost done it? Gone ahead, like a man possessed, with everything he had, his whole self alight in the spiritual fire he called Bloomery?

Clarity hit him like a train. The boy locked up and brought himself to a complete stop, only a step away from where he had started. His Aura had fully manifested along both his arms as a vibrant light the colour of a bloody sun behind an ash cloud, with an ungodly heat radiating out from the glow. The stern, single-minded focus he wore in a fight evaporated and took his Aura with it. Faster than he had ever seen before, the temperature created by his Bloomery disappeared, leaving nothing more than shaking hands and shallow breathing in its wake. His entire being was gripped by horror.

Stumbling back, Alexandros looked long into Aegle's eyes hidden beyond her stance. His breathing was loud and unsteady and rattling on the inside. Further back, still, he stumbled, almost losing balance as he did so, and never turning away. Once more he tried to regain composure and adopt a posture fit for fighting, but his body did not cooperate -- his hands were open and his whole arms quivering, legs all seized-up and useless beneath. The boy brought both hands up closer to his face after what felt like an eternity, finally breaking his gaze to look upon himself; Bloomery returned, and he recoiled in disgust at the prospect of what he had almost done. For three years, Alex trained and sparred with countless people, but never once had he used his Semblance while doing so. It was something he reserved for his solo sessions, something meant wholeheartedly and entirely for battling monsters in his romanticized version of justice. He stumbled back further, to the padded wall, and slumped against it, returning his gaze to meet Aegle.

"I can't do it," he whimpered through a sad smile. "You must think I'm a coward, right?"

--

WC 921/4099

[Aegle Verdant]

It was over before it began, though not quite as Aegle had expected. On the count of three, Alexandros came forward, alight with his semblance and preceded by a blistering wall of heat. As Aegle had expected, it looked, at least for a moment, like he would try a punch with his tailing hand. Except it was a punch that never came. After one step, the boy came to an abrupt halt and, a moment later, his body ceased to glow and ceased throwing off its almost painful aura of heat. The air suddenly grew cool around her, almost cold for the absence of that warmth, and Aegle watched as the fight drained out of Alexandros as well. His face, at once stern and focused, crumpled in on itself and the brawler was left looking as though he'd been about to punch a kitten.
His eyes met hers across the small gap separating them, and Aegle could see the horror in them, and the disgust. He staggered back and away from her, his semblance alighting for another brief instant before he collided with the opposite wall.

And just like that, Aegle had won her first fight. Her hands fell from their guard, just as the smile fell from her face. The latter was replaced by an blank expression, uncomprehending, to match the sudden emptiness that filled her. She tried to comprehend all that had just happened, but it was all so minute, so incomprehensible, that all she could do was feel hollow and confused.
"I can't do it." Alexandros said. He was leaned up against the wall like he couldn't stay standing without it, and wearing a strange sort of smile on his face. Aegle looked at him, and nodded, not with understanding, but with acceptance. She could see he couldn't do it.
"You must think I'm a coward, right?"

Aegle didn't respond. She only looked down at herself, at her hands, at the length of steel and leather that poked out from under her torn sleeve. She felt stricken, as though still waiting for something to happen, but the something would not come. It felt neither good nor bad, it wasn't even especially disappointing. It just felt like nothing.
'Did I want him to fight me' She wondered as she curled her fingers into fists once again, then tucked her hands out of sight in the pouch of her hoodie. Her jaw worked, her eyes remained on the floor in between the two of them, and Aegle remained silent. Was it confirmation of how pitiful she was? Was that what Alexandros' refusal to fight was? Was he too kind or too honorable to beat up a cripple?
Even such caustic thoughts couldn't seem to rouse any emotion in Aegle though.
'Is he a coward, or am I a monster?'
He'd taken it away from her. Whatever she'd hoped to prove by fighting him, whatever she'd hoped to gain, Alexandros had stolen. She tried to understand what, tried to piece whatever it was back together in her mind.
'I was ready t'fight him.' She thought vacantly. The content of the thought surprised her, and she was even more surprised when she realized it was true. Aegle Verdant, the coward, the anchor, the dead weight, who had been too scared to fight a beowolf, had been ready to fight and lose to a boy she didn't even know. She'd never been in a fight before, not a real one. Her fight with the beowolves, her fight with Carmin during their class together, her sparring sessions with Doc. They all had one thing in common. They were things she'd been made to do, forced into against her will. They were fights she hadn't wanted. And then Aegle understood what Alexandros had done, and what he'd taken away.

Lifting her eyes, Aegle looked at Alexandros. She didn't scowl, didn't smile. Her look was not a glare or a leer, it was only a look.
"I think..." She said quietly, like she was puzzling out her feelings with each word, "I think I might..."
Aegle met his gaze, emerald eyes dispassionate in a skull-like face.
"That I might hate you."
She turned to her duffel bag, not rushing, face still as glass. She hauled it up onto her shoulder, adjusted her grip, and headed for the door. She did it all without looking at Alexandros, even for a moment. She did it all in complete silence, save for the whispery whir of her brace beneath her clothes. She was sure that, at any moment, she would get angry. As understanding of what she was feeling sank in, surely it would make her furious. She almost wanted it to happen, but it didn't.

When she reached the door, something made her pause. Looking back, Aegle found Alexandros with her eyes. She owed him some kind of explanation. This was, after all, entirely her own fault, not his. It wasn't him she hated, not entirely, and it was not his fault she was so crazy and mixed up with what she wanted. Just as it wasn't Alexandros' fault that she didn't know what she wanted half the time.
"I've..." Her voice came out sounding cracked, unsteady, "I've never really wanted to fight anyone before."

---

words - 881

[N o v a k i d]

XP Distribution: Current XP + XP Earned = New Total XP

Alex 0 + 41 = 41 XP

Aegle 192 + = 52 = 244 XP

SPOILER: Click to show

Word Count:

Alex - 947 + 1003 + 1228 + 921 = 4099 Words

Aegle - 1726 + 1478 + 1159 + 881 = 5244 Words