ataraxionlogs | [open] the roses have faded, there's frost at my door

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[open] the roses have faded, there's frost at my door

CHARACTERS: Ellie + YOU
LOCATION: Various
WARNINGS: Foul mouthed children, knives (will update as necessary)
SUMMARY: Catch-all for August shenanigans, notably includes knife fighting lessons and axeing trees very important questions.
NOTES: Some closed starts, some open prompts. If you want something specific and it's not here, toss it up or pm me and I'll see what I can do!

[This jump makes ten. And while she's always been careful, ten months (or years or decades, who the fuck knows, right?) is kind of a long time to keep her head down. One way or another, something was going to happen to get her socialized and between the influx of under-18's on the passenger manifest, certain vampires at large and being ~~dragged kicking and screaming~~ convinced to move her shit down a few levels from the safety of isolation up on Deck 024-- well, her head is still down, but she's definitely more visible.

Feeling lucky? Most days she can be found rapidly skirting through Deck 007 to or from some other destination, heading to or from medical, making (bomb ass) spaghetti, or tucked up in the upper levels of the gardens reading sci-fi comics of arguable quality. Just don't approach from behind or make any sudden movements and everything should be fine, no really.]

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[Strictly speaking she doesn't actually have an axe in her hand when she climbs to the Oxygen Gardens upper levels, but she does have them wrapped in a shirt and tucked carefully under her arm. It's not exactly subtle, but it's less likely to get her stopped in the halls by Security so-- whatever, right?

She treks for the nearest thing to a clearing in the overgrown upper tier, a visible line of tension bristling across her shoulders and the back of her neck. This is a stupid idea, she's pretty sure. She's going to end up with her arms chopped off.]

Fuck it. [Grumbled under her breath as she steps across a tangled root system.] I'll just get robot arms.

Edited 2014-08-12 17:19 (UTC)

[The sole similarity between District 7 and the Tranquility's gardens is the presence of trees--and they aren't even the right kind of trees. The smell of pine is lacking, the soft brush of the long nettles and the sharp scent of sap when the bark is split. But they're still trees, and Johanna can still climb them.

That's where she is, when Ellie comes into the clearing. She's not too far up--her back against the trunk, with the blade of one axe bit in to the side of a large limb, the same one she's straddling. The girl picking her way into sight has to be her mysterious anonymous friend. She's carrying something, anyways, something potentially axe-sized. Johanna doesn't bat an eye at Ellie's age. It's a little surprising, but not because she's young.]

Overrated.

[Robot arms, that is. Johanna picks off a bit of bark from her tree limb and jabs at the cuticles of her left hand with it, like she's giving herself a primitive manicure.]

I know a guy who's got a robot leg. He's totally insane, that leg never did him any good.

[And she looks down at Ellie, with a grin, and flings that bit of bark over her shoulder.]

Are you my axe-date?

[She's super over people climbing around in trees. Something goes all tough and hard in her face, jaw setting briefly. Ellie lets the bundle she has under her arm drop to the ground at her feet with a metallic clatter; she stoops, unfolding the fabric away from the contents.]

I guess so, yeah.

[--and straightens, a smaller hand axe in each hand. They're clearly hand made - solid craftsmanship, heavy, meant as weapons rather than tools. She weighs them in her hands, fingers tight and a little awkward.]

I know a couple of someones with robot legs. They seem to do okay.

[She makes a non-committal noise in answer, as she strips another bit of bark off of the tree, pinched between her thumb and the knuckle of her forefinger.]

Then maybe the guy I know is just insane.

[Flippant, and she flicks away that piece of bark, too, and then yanks her axe from where its stuck in the tree limb, and swings down to the ground, one-handed.]

Cute axes. Did you make them, or did someone give them to you? [She approaches as she asks, and holds out her free hand for one.] Let me see.

[Wary as fuuuuuuck, but there's probably no changing that right off the bat - Ellie turns one of the axes over to her, her hand awkwardly shuffling as she flips it around to present it handle end first.]

Some guy gave them to me. [Weird dude, kind of creepy. But you shouldn't look a gift horse in the something-something.] I haven't really used them or anything.

[Johanna takes the axe and studies it, flips it over in her hand and catches it, peering along the handle at the rough-made head. She flips it over again, testing the balance of it.]

Not bad. A little amateur, but he wasn't totally terrible, whoever he was.

[Abruptly, she flips the axe around again so the head of it points toward her, catches it right in the middle of the handle--and offers it back to Ellie, with a little smile.]

Are you any good with any other weapons?

[There's the edge of a flinch as the girl flips the axe - not enough to send her twitching back, but definitely there and instinctual more than it is anything else. Ellie promptly takes the axe back. Shrugs.]

A little. [Usually she wouldn't bother playing dumb - better to talk herself up than down - but in this case?] I've shot a bow and a rifle before. Oh, and I have a pocket knife.

[Well-- she keeps it in her pocket anyway. Same thing.]

Edited 2014-08-26 03:00 (UTC)

[The first official meeting of the super secret knife fighting club is probably three hundred percent less glamorous than anyone involved could've hoped for. Sending out a few notifications to personal inboxes under a heavily encrypted channel (or as heavily encrypted as she could reasonably make it), Ellie had told anyone of perceived merit (read: not a vampire) where to meet. Today it was one of the lonely upper passenger quarter corridors, totally uninhabited but at least as-of-yet unmarked by the spray paint of Deck 034.

For anyone feeling any doubts about the validity of an anonymous knife fighting instructor, their fears probably aren't immediately put to rest by the fact that the only person holding down the fort at the meeting spot is a fifteen year old girl in worn out boots and a slightly too-small ship jumpsuit. But she definitely has a knife in her hand; Ellie's compulsively opening and closing the switchblade - clearly a habitual kind of action to fill the oppressive quiet of the corridor.

[ Remus didn't have many concrete expectations about knife fighting lessons to confound, but the few amorphous ones he did have definitely didn't include teenage instructors a solid foot shorter than he is. Which might be unfair of him. He was only a few years older than Ellie when he joined the Order, and he's yet to meet a kid aboard the ship who couldn't probably take him in a fist fight.

Unfair or not, though, he doesn't pause to be surprised, because it doesn't even occur to him that she's the instructor. He assumes she's here to learn, too, even though her knife is a notch fancier than the one he obediently swiped from an unused kitchen on his way up to 034. It's in his hand now, held low at his side, with the same easy grip he'd use on his wand.

He knows her face—his first jump was overwhelming, but in a way that's hard to forget instead of hard to remember—but he doesn't manage to unbury her name until he's nearly at her side. ]

Ellie, isn't it?

( ilde is less inclined than remus to assume anything, when she arrives, though that's mainly because her idea of normal was a lot simpler than his before she came here, and these days she tends to be rather more credulous. someone actually named a child 'remus lupin', for instance, who even does that? totally weirder than ellie potentially being their instructor.

... so, anyway. she also has a kitchen knife, in the hand she doesn't lift to greet the both of them. )

Hi.

[Ellie turns the knife in her hand, goes a little prickly and sharp as they approach, the line of her back straightening like someone's pulled a string up behind her shoulders. Right, okay. And she snaps the switchblade shut and rolls forward on the balls of her feet, decisive.]

Yeah, that's right. [A pause. She's met a lot of newbies and it takes a long second for the name to come - she squints between them.] Ilde and Remus. [Not a question; she's pretty sure. Ellie abruptly jams out her right hand to shake theirs. Let's be official about this shit, shall we?]

So you guys don't know anything, right?

Edited 2014-08-16 05:29 (UTC)

Oi oi. [William comes in on a rolling jog, flips a wave up hello before recognition sets in for all three of those already there. His gait slows, his eyes moving sideways through the group, automatically cautious, the way that comes of old habit; have cops and drug dealers on you long enough, you know.] Ilde. Remus.

Ellie. [Who looks to be in charge, he decides, when his eyes find her in the end. He shuts his mouth on the cusp of asking her if she doesn't need that tailored because it looks to be pinching her under the armpits, which is probably better than asking after her mother, but not by a lot. Comparatively speaking, it's probably much better that he asks instead:]

Have you bloody killed anybody then? [--plainly the continuation of another conversation. His fists go on his hips. He did at least bring a knife, judging from the bulge in his jacket.]

[ Whoa, crowd. Not that four is a particularly big crowd, but Rex is rather used to one on one lessons so it's unexpected. He's got a heavy-handled butter knife tucked in his pocket. Aww yeah safety knife.

He flashes a smile as he rolls up... which falters a bit at William's question. Guess he should have expected as much from anonymous knife fighting lessons?? ]

[Which is, okay - probably a fair question to ask. It's not like she doesn't know she spent like a good ten minutes raking most of them over the coals on the comm (mostly) where pretty much anyone could see it. So sure, that's fair. She still fixes William with a sidelong glare.]

None of your business. [Which she promptly follows with an attempted change of subject:] Everyone brought their stuff, right? Let me see what you have. Hold them out. --Don't point it at anyone.

[ Remus's eyebrows raise very slightly once he sorts out that Ellie is the teacher, and they stay there long enough for him to recycle the same faintly amused, watchful expression as a response to William's question. At least Remus isn't the only one she asked. It's better knowing that she's a child.

Sort of. Sort of better, sort of a child.

He waves at the last arrival, the only one whose name he doesn't know, but doesn't ask, busy flipping his knife around in his hands, with the recklessness of someone used to easy healing and not at all used to weapons, to hold it perpendicular to his chest with the blade facing inward. ]

[William is somewhat less impressive than our resident werewolf, taking the knife out of his pocket. It's a very utilitarian weapon, probably from the kitchen, the blade only a little longer than the palm of his hand. He pulls it out of the sensible sheathe he brought it in with, doesn't wave it at anybody. His Welcome hello! smile for Rex is a little vague because it's still mixed up in squinting at Ellie.]

Given I'm about to be accepting instruction on counter-murdering people from the wee twist that's yourself, I'd like to know you've at least counter-murdered one person, [he tells her, despite his apparent compliance.] For all of our peace of mind. [He pauses to glance a little nervously in Remus' direction, gripping his own knife steadily.]

[She abruptly goes a faint shade of red in the face, brow furrowing and lips stubbornly thinning as she reaches impatiently for William's wrist. Her fingers pry less than gently at his, perfunctorily adjusting his grip on the knife.] I've fucked up some guys. Don't worry about it.

[She moves to do the same with Remus's grip, though gives him the benefit of being mildly more gentle about it. Screw you, William.]

And you're not counter-murdering anyone. You're learning to murder-murder them. [Because despite the phrase 'knife fighting', killing anyone with a knife really came down to getting them before they ever got even reasonably close to getting you first.]

[ Right so... murder talk is unexpectedly extreme and everyone is pulling out real knives and ??? weren't they going to be sparring?]

I didn't realize we'd be learning murder today. [ He says dubiously as he brandishes his butter knife. ]

I definitely signed up for murder-murder.

( affably; things ilde doesn't enjoy about being on the tranquility is being so under-prepared for it. she's a socialite. she writes poetry about her sexual encounters and drinks too much; self-defense has always previously meant 'abusing huge watery blue eyes to make people stop scolding her even though they are right to do so'. )

[ If he knew William better he'd give him a warning look, lay off the kid—which would be patronizing , probably, so it's just as well that he only gives Ellie a small, grateful smile and flexes his corrected grip to memorize it while he looks first at Rex, then at Ilde, not sure which of them to be more alarmed by.

Both is probably good.

But his focus settles on Rex and his butter knife. ]

I can duplicate mine for you if you want. Won't last forever, but— [ It only needs to last the lesson. ]

What-- like with magic? [ He says sarcastically. And then realization dawns and his eyes go wide ] Magic is real. Awesome.

[ But he puts that thought on the back burner and shakes his head. ] Shouldn't you be turning everyone else's dull? How are we going to spar with real knives? [ He looks to Ellie for confirmation. ] I didn't think I'd signed on for Battle Royale style lessons.

--Okay, no. [Ellie half raises her hand in an attempt at wrangling the conversation.] First of all, let's get one thing straight: we're not going to be sparring with knives. This shit's real simple. You get whatever's coming after you before you get them and you hit them somewhere that bleeds a lot.

[She takes a step back, glancing across the line of knives - blunt to sharp. Yeah this is gonna go well.] So I guess everyone set their knife down for now. We're going to learn the basics before anyone goes swinging anything around. Cool?

[William is still grimacing from where his fingers got shoved around by Ellie's brutal attack. However, on the upside, he is holding the knife more correctly now. He swings it around a few short arcs while the others are talking, the blade swizzing audibly around in the air. In his head, his demon boarder looks on with mild amusement, doesn't intervene, or not much: only to flash a brief skein of red across Ellie when William looks at her again, a brief hallucination of color.

William blinks hard. It's gone in a moment.] Yeh, [he says. He stoops down to put the knife on the ground.] Somewhere bleeds a lot.

[She nods - someone gets it - and waits until all the knives have been set aside before jumping right into the nitty gritty of murder-murder.]

So basically you want to make sure you hit somewhere where you're going to get a lot of blood flow. [With a glance to William - he was in medical; he should know this shit already.] That basically boils down to here, here and here--

[Ellie motions to either side of her neck, right up by her armpits and then pats the inside of her thighs. Simple.] The stomach and chest are tempting, but don't bother. If you stab a guy in the stomach, he'll keep coming for you if he's jacked enough on adrenaline and shit. And trying to actually get to the heart isn't worth the risk of messing it up. It's way easier to cut someone's throat or hack into a thigh.

Got it?

Edited 2014-08-26 02:56 (UTC)

[ He ventures into the kitchen at some point, feeling confident enough to try his hand at something resembling a grilled cheese sandwich. He'd ordered that particular meal a few times back at Granny's Diner in Storybrooke, though it feels somewhat lacking without the addition of tomato soup. He'll have to make do. While the grilled cheese is easy enough to replicate, he doesn't much feel like taking on the task of tomato soup, not when he wants to quell his hunger rather quickly.

Just as he enters, though, he spots a young girl who looks quite familiar. He'd been wondering if she was alright, and it's nice to see her, though he's not entirely sure she'll remember him, or even be all that pleased to see him.

He smiles, though, standing at the threshold so as not to startle her. Then he clears his throat before speaking: ]

Another skill of yours?

[ It certainly smells good. ]

[She has a spoon in what must be a pot of spaghetti sauce, clipping the edges with a metallic ting-ting-ting on each rotation, but abruptly stops the moment she's addressed. It clanks awkwardly against the side of the pot, fingers choking up tight on the spoon as she turns on her heel toward the door.]

Oh. [Bow and arrow guy. Which okay, great, so he wasn't dead. No one had talked about it so she'd pretty much figured as much (or that he'd disappeared and didn't know anyone here who'd give enough of a shit to say something; potato, po-tah-to), but she hadn't really been expecting to run into the dude again. She's pretty good at keeping repeat chance encounters to a minimum and seeing him again is-- weird. Pings some instinctual, niggling fight-or-flight reaction the sends an itch up between her shoulder blades.] Hi.

[Ellie spares a quick flick of the eyes to the pot, spaghetti noodles slowly softening in a second one on a back burner, then glances back to him. She shrugs.] I guess.

[ He hadn't been expecting a warm welcome, so her reaction doesn't at all surprise him, nor does it deter him. He doesn't have to stick around long, and if she seems particularly annoyed by his presence, he won't try to insist on anything. Just to play it safe, he stays where he is, not stepping forward and invading her space. ]

Looks like...spaghetti?

[ He'd only seen it twice in Storybrooke, and since spaghetti isn't something they ever ate in Sherwood Forest, he asks rather than saying anything with certainty. ]

[Not coming any closer is probably a smart move. She slowly, mechanically resumes stirring the pot.] Yup. [It's all elongated, a slow drag of the 'u.' Ellie studies him up and down - frowns.]

Is there something you need, buddy? [Which comes out all purposefully hard edged.]

[ There's been this strange pattern lately with people he's had cause to talk to, where they can't seem to believe he just genuinely wants to make sure they're alright, and there's nothing in it for him. The resistance - and even hostility, in some cases - doesn't much bother him, although he tries to be respectful about their wishes, at least. ]

I don't need anything at all, actually, I was simply pleased to see you're alright.

And I was planning to make myself a sandwich, if you don't mind the company.

[ He was just wondering about in the listless way he was prone too now. Keeping still was impossible. Feel things, hear them, just out of ear shot, on the edge of his vision. Flickers that he didn't want to name or put terms to, even if he had promised Snape.

If it wasn't for the strange feeling that he shouldn't go back, he knows where he'd be. Looking, for something, anything at all. Putting a name on it wasn't working, or he couldn't exactly. But it wouldn't help him either to listlessly stare into the dark, and that seemed all else he would do currently.

So he found people, had to eat the same as everyone else. Went to the kitchens to that end, his mask pulled up on his head, drinking something, water probably, idly watching people as they milled in and out. ]

[Ellie has a set of very important, maybe even vital sandwiches to make if she wants an updated list of emoticons courtesy one Arya Stark which is what, eventually, brings her swinging down to the kitchens. She has a mental list in her head of Arya's particular sandwich making specifications and is focused enough on the short list of ingredients (and the specific 'no such and such') that for a moment when she crosses the threshold into the kitchen, she doesn't take note of the fact that she isn't alone: has her comm up and her nose in it, a slight frown on her face.

When she looks up, she freezes - a deer in the headlights, small hairs prickling at the back of her neck and a shiver of caution bolting down the length of her spine. He hands go abruptly taught around the comm, breath short. She wasn't expecting company.]

[ He's not particularly unused to that reaction. But he doesn't react to it, either way. Taking a slow sip of his drink as he glanced to her briefly. Setting the cup down with a pointed clank on the table. Slow and careful.

He might not have said anything, save that he had a weak spot and it was so easily exploitable, and it hadn't been his intention at all. ]

Didn't mean to startle. [ as if some how might settle her some. ]

[It does and it doesn't - because on the one hand, he doesn't really seem the type to give a shit about some kid randomly stumbling across him, on the other hand-- well, let's be real. Nothing's going to settle her.

Ellie narrows her eyes at him from the doorway. When she moves, it's further into the kitchen though with the clear intent of keeping out of arm's length, the line of counter tops between them as she makes for one of the over sized cool storage units.]

It's all good. It's not like it's my ship or anything. [If it was, there'd be a lot more vampires in the airlock.]

[ He doesn't get up or move, happy to let her have her space as he went back to sipping his drink slowly. Not giving the appearance of watching her at least.

Even if he is minutely aware of everything around him. Nothing good came of letting people be aware of that. A side glance as he watched her go to the storage units, shifting forward to rest his weight on his elbows. ]

As you will, then.

[She gives him a little mock salute, a twitch of the fingers from her temple, and then pops the door on the storage unit. She'd been planning on making something like actual food, but doesn't have any interest in sticking around to do it if she has company. So fuck it, sandwich it is. She snags a slab of sliced meat from storage, dragging it and a few other containers of crap and depositing them on the counter top.

Ellie very pointedly avoids making eye contact with the man as she busies herself - bread, space mayo, all that shit.]

[ At first it's idle, just watching her because she's simply there, and it's a habit.

Then he's curious. He eats better here, but he doesn't eat well. Cooking isn't a particular skill of his, and mostly, if he does eat, it's rats. Cooked until there is no plague left in them, not that it seems to effect him, because the raw ones he broke the necks of and devoured would make another man throw up. But he likes food, knows it from living in a palace most of his life.

This he doesn't particularly know well, what she's making, and he mistakenly starts to genuinely watch what she's doing. Frowning slightly, it doesn't look horribly complicated. ] Forgive me for bothering you, but what is that you make?

[It's a weird enough question that she stops slapping mayo on the piece of bread, instead turns on her heel and stares at him for a long beat.]

What? Seriously? [And then she's rapidly recovering, jamming the knife into the jar with a wet 'thworp.'] It's a sandwich, dude. You know. Bread. Lunch meat. Other-- stuff.

[Succinct.]

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[open] the roses have faded, there's frost at my door

closed to johanna

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KNIFE FIGHTING!!

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going 2 assume i got more names IC, can edit, just plurk @ me

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kitchens. does my own thing w/e w/e

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