red fishies

[mortalcoil]

Who: The Red Fish crew, and any trespassers
Broadcast: Probably not
Action: Aboard the SS Red Fish, and the planet's surface
When: For the remainder of the month

[Red Fish is the party ship! yeeeeah!


...no, I lied. really, does anyone on this ship know how to have fun at all? like, really have fun? does anyone here gamble or go dancing or party all night long?

maybe the Red Fish just have fun in unconventional ways-- like reading, or sipping tea, or constructively beating the crap out of each other.

who needs a worlds-famous casino station when you have simple joys like that, right?]

Comments

[openhands]

[Nope, she's not getting that pantomiming, Coil. She's arching a brow and waiting on a better answer than that. Mostly though, she's just getting annoyed. Which, so far, has summarized her experiences with Coil fairly well.]

[mortalcoil]

[the feeling is mutual... and he may be taking the breakdown of communication as a count against her intelligence. and being that he doesn't have any other practical way to get across what he's trying to say, he loses patience. her quick annoyance is pretty contagious.

with a sigh, he plunks the staff back where it came from, and just... faces her again, and gestures hastily between them.

fine. they'll just do it like this. whatever. anything. he just needs to fight something.]

[openhands]

[Anger is a fairly useful tool in a fight, but only if it's wielded properly. When she was younger, it made her too brash and inflexible. Being an unyielding force has its advantages, of course, but an inability to move smoothly between defensive and offensive is costly. Cassandra's had a great deal of practice that it's not such an issue any longer. She's aware of it and aware of the spike of her own aggravation as he sighs at her.]

[Cassandra rolls her shoulders for a brief moment before she slides into a stance. She gives him only a few seconds to prepare himself (she's annoyed, but she won't be unfair) before she's coming at him with a fist.]

[mortalcoil]

[he's out of practice. the only thing he has really faced in recent memory is Zhas, and it's been without the urgent threat of their crusade behind it. it might be vital practice, but it isn't really much of the challenge he needs.

with all those scars on his body, he isn't much suited for sitting around nicely on a spaceship.

so, he goes into this eagerly--not expecting to win, maybe, but definitely expecting to be pushed. whatever childish frustration he'd had before disappears quickly, and he focuses.

he's a little sloppy about it at first, but he's still fast. that much is clear, at least, when she goes to strike him. he ducks to the side, snaps an arm up to glance the blow away from his face, and he doesn't return the strike. not yet.]

[openhands]

[Speed is difficult to beat, but his sloppiness is telling. He lacks discipline and she doesn't imagine it will be long before he assumes that she's not much of a challenge. Then will be the time to unleash all hell and see if he can keep up then. But as it is, Cassandra remains restrained with a low follow-up strike.]

[mortalcoil]

[he may be sorely lacking in discipline now, but that's neither his natural state nor his history. he is a meticulously trained dog that has been let off its leash for too long. he gets antsy because of it, acts out, tests limits... but when it comes down to it, being pushed back into needing to be careful and smart is what he really wants.

again, he deflects the strike and stays close, looking eager. he's waking up, so he can watch, ready and waiting to adapt.]

[openhands]

[The fact he remains close comes as a bit of a surprise, but that just means it's Cassandra who takes the step back. This time, there is no strike back. Cassandra is a formidable offense, but there's little point in sparring for either of their sakes if she takes the offense the entire time. Especially when he seeks no retaliation after his deflections and blocks.]

[mortalcoil]

[he doesn't let the opening hang without answer. he doesn't press his advance much farther--he's not one to push a straight offense like that--but he does try to take advantage of it while he has it.

so, he throws a punch, just like he should. it's fast and has good form, but is lacking in power. it's just there to be blocked. it's thrown to set her up, because he's immediately striking with his other arm as soon as she does something to block or deflect.

it's this second strike, sent rapid-fire after the first, that is actually meant to stick. this strike is sharp and surgical, and goes right for whatever bundle of nerves or important joint in her defending arm is the closest when she moves.]

[openhands]

[Cassandra remembers old lessons about the importance of defense, that even a shield can be turned into a weapon. (Most likely the reason why hers was taken from her when she woke up here.) It's just a flash of a memory, but it sparks to life the moment she feels how flaccid his first punch is. As fast as his second strike is, he telegraphs his intention to her.]

[He doesn't leave her much room to react, but it's enough. As she's deflecting the first punch, Cassandra grapples onto his arm, twisting and pulling on his wrist to put his arm between hers and his punch.]