letoldthingsdie | IC Inbox faderift

A bit of a different principle to them - you're more vulnerable fighting up close. Guns... or blasters, tend to give you distance as a buffer. Swords are about being able to strike before your opponent does.

[Already he can tell she's probably a little flimsy in the strength department, but she didn't look too bad off. At least she didn't immediately drop it to her feet.]

You get used to the weight after a while.

[ She'll just leave the 'she shot herself with one' part out of the conversation since she's pretty sure then he would take the sword away. ]

It's not so bad. Vehicle parts can be heavier to lift.

[Yeah. If he knew she shot herself that sword would be gone very quickly. Please don't stab yourself, Chloe. Jeez.]

You work on vehicles?

[He preferred air crafts but vehicles weren't hard to work with once you understood them. He drove them about as well as he flew. Which is to say probably a little too well and maybe a little too recklessly.]

Interesting.

[So she's more than blue-haired urchin. He's impressed.]

[ She nods with a small noise of confirmation, not making any sarcastic response for once. She turned the blade a little in her hands to watch the metal glint, careful to not get the sharp edges anywhere near him or herself as she did so. It was mostly a distraction. ]

My dad taught me a lot about fixing them before he, y'know, got flattened by one.

[ She found a certain irony in the fact that the first time she'd mentioned her dad in this place was to a guy she'd spent more time annoying than getting to know. Maybe the disconnect made it easier to be casual. ]

So how's this thing work? Other than the whole pointy end goes into the other guy part.

[The way she spoke about her father actually hurt like a blow to the stomach. He would have been the same, had he not been the one to kill his own father. Deflecting things that hurt you with self depreciation and sarcasm was similar to how he approached these things too.]

My father was probably the best pilot in the galaxy. He was also a smuggler, but I think he was a bit less proficient at that than flying or driving.

[There's a slight twitch in the corners of his lips as he tries not to smile fondly. He'd heard the stories so many times that they had become fairy tales in his child's mind from an early age. For the longest time all he'd ever wanted was to be a pilot as great as his father. He used to carry his father's dice around and tell that to anyone who would listen, according to his mother. As he got older that closeness had faded but he'd never lost interest in being a pilot or lost the skills his father had taught him. They served him in his work with the First Order.]

It wasn't what killed him, though. He was killed by someone who had betrayed him.

[His lips press together as he tries to fend off the turmoil that comes with the half truth he's given her. The last thing he wanted was to spread around that he was a murderer. He'd probably be locked up in the Gallows forever if any Division leaders found out.

He decides it better not to think about it and focus on this girl and her terrible sword skills.]

That's only one part of it. You need to be able to understand how to move and defend yourself. With a sword you're up close and it leaves you more open. You need to be able to keep your opponent from disarming you or knocking you off your feet.

[He takes her hands in his adjusting her hold on the blade so that it sits firmly in both hands in front of her and then nudges her feet apart with his just so, once he's sure she has her torso well guarded by her arms and the blade.]

Like that. The rest is just being able to move according to your opponent. You want to stay away from their blade and you don't want your back to them.

[FN-2187 had made that mistake when he'd tried to fight him with the Skywalker lightsaber. He'd left so many openings that all it took was a show of brute strength and disarming him in order to put a stop to his attacks.

Rey had been another challenge. He still can't confirm it but their connection within the Force had given her access to some of his skills. Her stance was similar but Obi-Wan's training had changed much of her fighting style.]

[ She didn't miss the 'was' when he'd started, the past tense, and so it has her looking at him entirely differently as he talks about his dad. He was killed by someone who had betrayed him makes her stomach twist in knots, the empathy she feels for that statement higher than it should be. A dead parent was always hard to deal with - and she knew the pain of having someone killed by a person who was supposed to be their friend.

Rachel had trusted both Nathan and Jefferson after all. Loved Jefferson, even, if that letter was true. She swallowed roughly, her expression more genuine than it had been around him since the moment they met. A brief glimpse that she can be more than just some annoying troll when she wants to be. ]

... He sounds like he was pretty cool. [ There's a pause, a moment where she looks like she might ask a question or say something that would convey her understanding of his loss, but she keeps her mouth shut. She's just a kid, right? Anything she'd say would probably sound stupid.

So she focuses on her sword as well, the way that he adjusts her grip and her stance, staring down at the position of her feet as he kicks them apart enough. Hn. So not too different from what she'd seen in movies, but nothing she'd have been able to mimic without the help. ]

That easy, huh? [ There's the sarcasm. She can't do without it for long. ] How am I supposed to be able to tell where the other guy is moving? I'm not a fuckin' mind reader, y'know.

Sometimes he was. Others he... we had a strained relationship.

[It was the only answer she would get about him, honestly. He never talked to anyone about his father - not Rey, not anyone back home. He'd kept it all locked inside. His disappointment sat right in there with his guilt over killing probably one of the few people in his life he'd ever loved.

His father had often struggled with how to even be a father, he's come to realize. Han had always been restless, just as he was. If Han couldn't fix it with a blaster it wasn't something he could easily fix. He had spent so much time burying himself in things he was good at that he missed out on some of the years of his life where he could have really used a father by his side. Instead he'd gotten Luke and that had been a terribly poor substitute.]

Experience makes it easier to judge, but at least you aren't likely to have an arm or a hand cut off this way.

[Whether he was being serious or not was up in the air. And for her sarcasm he pokes her roughly in one side, meeting her tit for tat. His hands move to rest on her shoulders, checking to see her hold on the blade from her point of view. He was several inches taller than her than her, despite her own height being close to Rey's. It gave him a better picture. Up close like this, her fading blue hair]

Just being able to understand the weight of the weapon in your hands, being able to move it without it moving you, would give you enough defensive capability. It might feel heavy in your hands now but that won't always be the case.

[ There's a hum of understanding; she knew full well how complex relationships could be with parents. Her relationship with her mother was strained now - was strained? She supposed either way that things turned out, she'd never see her again. There were things that get left unresolved, unsaid, and there's something inside of her that feels empty because of it, a hole that can never be filled. ]

I'm sorry. [ The word isn't said in some attempt at pity, since there's nothing that Chloe hates more than that - being pitied or pitying, neither sits well in her stomach. ] Apologies are shit for this kind of thing, I know I get sick of hearing them, but - still. [ She shrugs her shoulders, like she's trying to push off the emotional impact of discussing dead parents with the movement. It didn't work very well.

Her gaze darts to her hand, eyes widened a little, picturing the scene from Monty Python with the Black Knight and feeling her stomach churn. It might have been a comedic skit, but the idea of it happening to her is not exactly something she's aiming for. With her luck with weaponry, it was also not unrealistic to worry about it.

She doesn't have time to give some witty retort, though, because the poke to her side surprises her and there's a noise that comes out of her throat that she hasn't made in years - a giggle. Even with how rough it was, she was ticklish. No one had gotten near enough to her to figure that out for some time. She swallows a little roughly after, her cheeks turning pink as she tries to pretend that totally didn't just happen, and only realizing just how close he is now. It's weird. Not a bad weird, just... unfamiliar.

She lets her wrists move slightly, turning the weapon, feeling the way it the weight shifts at various angles, where she has to brace her arms a little more, relax them other times. It makes her arms ache a little. Fuck, she needed to get stronger. ]

Guess shit like this must weigh nothing to someone like you. [ She can see them muscles through your black clothes, Hot Topic. She ain't fooled. ]

[He was more comfortable talking about swords and fighting than he was about his father, so he latches onto that instead. He watches her turn the weapon, giving a pleased nod when she didn't immediately drop it.]

After years of practice, it doesn't. [He can't help the fond look in his eyes as he watches her with the blade.]

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soooo late it just kept getting further buried in my inbox. my bad dude