NO USE GOING BACK TO YESTERDAY

IND. PRI. SEL. JASON BRODY OF FAR CRY 3 HUNTED BY PLANE

[tatbro]

SEMI-SELECTIVE JASON BRODY of FAR CRY 3

Hunted by Plane. 26, he/him, EST.

[ RULES ] [ DOSSIER ] [ ICON CRED. ]

[tatbro]

Through everything, Jason's pleasantly surprised. Surprised she offers no judgement, gives him no pity. Doesn't see a poor, broken animal that the rest of his friends, the world saw. Only sees another fighter, someone with the same drive for survival (if not purpose).

"Training a scapegoat's what he had time for."

A bitter laugh. An itch of his sleeve. Call him a monster all you liked, Jason had little care for Citra. Held little remorse for Dennis. Sorry it had ended how it had, and yet so, so jaded. He hadn't had his head on straight beforehand, but he hadn't deserved... that. Any of it. Not Ollie, Liza, Daisy, not his brother Riley, and Grant.....

"I... don't think I was sober for a lot of it."

He just wished he had the memory loss that came with it. Might be easier to deal with. Or, he might just have been super dead. Citra was never not blowing dust in his face or handing him weird teas, telling him wild stories and slinking off while he was out of his mind delirious. Jason could vividly remember more than one wild drug trip, waking up to more ink on his forearm and half the day gone.

The American suddenly feels another itch, this time at the back of his neck. Hairs standing on end, smoothed physically by a hand massaging the tense muscle. She was leaving it in his hands, letting him make the decision. Something he might've shirked before that trip to hell, something he might've shrugged and promised to make later, only to ghost. Now? Choice felt as odd as it felt freeing. He hadn't had much choice but to sink deeper and deeper on Rook. Depravity, violence, bloodshed and murder. But here? Even something as simple as how to proceed with the extra curricular? Seemed to soothe his nerves. Choice. And it was his to take.

The tiger who had remembered the soft floor of the jungle, yet accustomed to the cold concrete of the cage.

She mentions a similar path... did she think people could really change? Did she think Jason could change? The foreigner was skeptical, yet willing to hear reason. If not further that his fucked up intuition had been right, that they wore a similar set of scars.

"No— it.. It was nice. Different."

More itching. Cracking his neck aside, willing his heartbeat to stay steady.

"I think the last person I really talked to was Customs. I wanna move up a class."

[warwaited]

"Even worse, then. I apologize. I may be mostly self-taught, but I had the benefit of a... proficient teacher before my story was set on the path it would keep for the next few years. If it's any consolation, it looks like you filled in with instinct what couldn't be informed by training. Just because you're not a proper match for me doesn't mean you aren't a proper match for anyone." Xue gives him a lopsided smile, still more or less fully relaxed despite the tightly-wound emotional state of the man across from her.

Probably not least because she just readily demonstrated her ability to kick his ass clean in two, but hey, at least one of them is dedicated to keeping the vibe nominal. Funny how much desire to move someone can show even while sitting down - doesn't feel like that long ago she was the same way. Always bouncing in place. Fidgeting. Not wanting to spend a single second idle, because who knows which second might be the one that mattered.

"I'd hope it was different." That same flickering smile, more for herself than for him. "I take a little bit of pride in the speed my students learn at, but none of them are quite at my level. If we do this again, I think I'd like to test your offence as well as your defence - I was an impolite host. Barely gave you space to talk."

Because he didn't take it, but it's beside the point. "Still. I'll have you moved up. The belt is still your responsibility to earn, but I'm certain that once you can ground yourself in the present and focus on the movements of fighting rather than the feeling, you'll be surprised just how fast you pick it up."

[tatbro]

Jason does his best to match her, offering a small smirk as she does the same. Relearning how to properly emote, when and where and what to act— it's a learning curve for sure. Something to be worked on. On Rook, he always had a stare about him, an intense glare like that of a hawk. Unblinking. Unmoving. Gathering as much intel about an adversary as he could. Here? Among fellow man that didn't want to kill him? It brought unease, mistrust. Apprehension, especially as out of his depth as he was in an eastern civilization instead of a familiar western one.

He smiles, and he means it. The first win all night. The biggest win of all night.

"Thanks"

To her compliment? Her adjusting his curriculum? Offering to spend more time together? Any. All. Whatever meaning she wanted to apply. Jason was almost shocked she actually listens, let him tell as much or as little as he wants. Unlike the dozens of head shrinks he'd recounted the tale to, unlike his friends he'd died for. Not that it was out of malice, but they had such a sheltered view. They had been there, but not really there. And no amount of explaining had changed things.

He rips himself from the past once more, following her advice. Might be good for non-combat too, actually. Focusing on here. He tends to slip a lot, find he compares things too much. Something distracting, both occupying him and distracting him in the worst ways.

"Open hand to hand wasn't something I did a lot of. Glad I could at least somewhat keep up."

An attempt at a joke. Or at least a funny irony. Keep up? Sure. The sifu had wiped the floor with him.

"I think next time you're gonna have a harder time surprising me. I know your game now."

I can learn by example, too.

[warwaited]

She frowns slightly. If he's going to train himself back into using human emotion, this isn't the best partner for Jason to pick. Every expression is minor, every acknowledgement or consideration just a few seconds on the face or in the way her body moves. It's a long story. She thinks on that, then shrugs. "I have time."

And so she listens, to the few words he's willing to offer. Halting, both uncertain and completely sure. Stranded on an island. Left to fend more or less for himself. Given a knife and told to use his wits - wits that hadn't been properly honed yet and grew in tortured, twisted ways. It explains a few things. "It sounds like your teacher had little time to show you the way things should be properly done... although it also sounds like you didn't have much time to offer in return, either."

A low sigh.

"It isn't my place to ask for specifics. You've given me what you're comfortable with sharing and I'll respect the distance you choose to keep from your past. It informs things about how you fight, certainly." And, maybe, why he doesn't like the colour red. Blood writ large. Blood he probably wishes he didn't get so used to seeing. "At any rate... you're well-versed in staying on the attack, but your guard and decision making both need polish."

Xue rolls a shoulder. Hesitant. "...I know a couple of things about punishing bad people because no one else would. I spent a long time thinking of nothing else, but... people need to change eventually. I apologize if this wasn't a pleasant experience for you - the spar or the talk. If you feel unfulfilled in your classes, I could move you up a form or two and put you to work properly."

[tatbro]

Through everything, Jason's pleasantly surprised. Surprised she offers no judgement, gives him no pity. Doesn't see a poor, broken animal that the rest of his friends, the world saw. Only sees another fighter, someone with the same drive for survival (if not purpose).

"Training a scapegoat's what he had time for."

A bitter laugh. An itch of his sleeve. Call him a monster all you liked, Jason had little care for Citra. Held little remorse for Dennis. Sorry it had ended how it had, and yet so, so jaded. He hadn't had his head on straight beforehand, but he hadn't deserved... that. Any of it. Not Ollie, Liza, Daisy, not his brother Riley, and Grant.....

"I... don't think I was sober for a lot of it."

He just wished he had the memory loss that came with it. Might be easier to deal with. Or, he might just have been super dead. Citra was never not blowing dust in his face or handing him weird teas, telling him wild stories and slinking off while he was out of his mind delirious. Jason could vividly remember more than one wild drug trip, waking up to more ink on his forearm and half the day gone.

The American suddenly feels another itch, this time at the back of his neck. Hairs standing on end, smoothed physically by a hand massaging the tense muscle. She was leaving it in his hands, letting him make the decision. Something he might've shirked before that trip to hell, something he might've shrugged and promised to make later, only to ghost. Now? Choice felt as odd as it felt freeing. He hadn't had much choice but to sink deeper and deeper on Rook. Depravity, violence, bloodshed and murder. But here? Even something as simple as how to proceed with the extra curricular? Seemed to soothe his nerves. Choice. And it was his to take.

The tiger who had remembered the soft floor of the jungle, yet accustomed to the cold concrete of the cage.

She mentions a similar path... did she think people could really change? Did she think Jason could change? The foreigner was skeptical, yet willing to hear reason. If not further that his fucked up intuition had been right, that they wore a similar set of scars.

"No— it.. It was nice. Different."

More itching. Cracking his neck aside, willing his heartbeat to stay steady.

"I think the last person I really talked to was Customs. I wanna move up a class."

[warwaited]

"Hmh? Of course you get credit. You were starting from behind."

She pats her thigh and seats herself cross-legged right there on the training floor, looking up at him until he follows her lead. Xue rolls her neck, the smile still on her face and now far less smug than before. It's simply... content. Maybe self-fulfilled, really, a simple, pure emotion that she may not have been getting as much of as she wants lately. Her knuckles crack and click as she twists her hands about, and she regards Jason seriously.

"Your offence is much better than your defence at this point. I was trying to force you to tighten up, and the fact that you didn't points in two directions - one good, one... needing work. You aren't timid. But we knew that." The smile flits back across the sifu's face before departing again.

"You don't have the instinct to protect yourself in the way that you have to. If I was attacking into your guard, you were strong, but you didn't predict my actions and paid for it. I dictated the pace of the bout more or less from the start, and told you it was a losing position. I hoped you would be able to take the momentum back for me after you found your feet, but..."

Xue trails off, beginning to study him again. Recrossing her legs, taking a deep breath and settling her hands in her lap. "...you aren't used to it. For you, it's... more about endurance than discretion, you throw yourself into your partner and hope to get enough favourable trades that they give out before you do. I would guess you have a fair amount of experience, but not with anybody that would force you to claim your own space before moving into theirs. You run people over."

Her head bobs this way and that, only somewhat meeting his eyes. She isn't sure quite how to approach that, but it isn't because she's unfamiliar with it. "That works against untrained adversaries. Or people who know the same kind of fighting as you do, but I doubt you have any misunderstanding of what happens when you try to bring that to bear against someone who knows well enough not to take it."

Another tough thing to say. This time she's quiet for longer, one finger tapping against her palm in a steady rhythm, gently slowing. Monitoring her heartbeat.

"Where did you learn to fight?"

[tatbro]

The sifu's assessment was scarily on the money. Impressive, too, just from the quick minute fight. Though her last query... struck a nerve. If Jason had been anything other than human, he might've answered immediately with pinned ears, raised hackles. Might've bared his teeth, puffed fur or ruffled feathers to make himself bigger. Might've even growled, clear warning to drop it, leave him alone. Given more than enough indication he was more trouble than the payoff could ever hope to deliver. Brighter colors, bigger danger. Yet he had none of that. No lupine ears, no fur to puff. No real warning other than a clenched jaw, forcefully calmed breathing. Almost a switch was flipped; panting to serene at the drop of a hat.

"It's a long story."

His second-immediate response. Clipped. Restrained. Wishing it could be yanked back and choked down the mere moment he says it, eyes still staring right through her. Not that he has a real radar for tone much anymore, his or otherwise. One way of saying things was just about as good as another, (even if it took a reminder to recall) and he wasn't going to waste time thinking about it. Catastrophizing about it. About her. If you told him you liked his shirt, he'd go about his day after forgetting the compliment, not wondering just what you meant. The same could be applied here. The same SHOULD be applied here

...possibly to both of them.

It didn't stop the teacher from gauging, and Jason forced himself to relax again. For real.

Instead, following her lead. Bouncing lightly on his feet, shaking out the nervous energy. Not caring if she judged him, not caring if she was thinking and perceiving and making mental notes. Forcing himself to let go of her caring, instead reminding himself. Here. Now. Not Rook, not the outposts, or the stakeouts, or God forbid Cali.

Following her lead, and padding back over to sit where she'd instructed. Muscles still buzzing with unspent energy. If she was going to kill him, this was an odd place to--

"I got. Stranded. On an island. And it was. Them or me."

me or them.

"I. Had to choose Us. Me."

Another pause. Staring right through her, pinpointing his gaze through her own intense stare. He hadn't intended to tell her his life's story, but something about the way she asked questions really set the mood for oversharing. For some semblance of trust there, that she wouldn't judge. As much as he enjoyed his discretion, enjoyed his time alone and away from everything that reminded him he was human, Jason also seemed to hate the silence between words. Did his best to fix it, even if speaking felt wrong. Alien.

"My 'teacher' handed me a backpack and a machete and said 'good luck'-- and I made it work."

There were also bigger, badder weapons he'd been handed, but Jason didn't mention them. Almost felt ashamed he'd enjoyed his time with that flamethrower, enjoyed causing burns to scar and maim on his fellow man. Enjoyed it so much he missed it, never once blinking as he answered.

"Fast offense was the best defense, and they were bad people."

As if convincing himself he wasn't beyond salvation.

"No one else was going to."

[screenshotsofdespair]

[weltenwellen]

Czeslaw Milosz, New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001

[warwaited]

She was right that if she genuinely wanted to floor him, overwhelming his defence would be the way to go. He can't quite keep up with her rhythm - Xue takes one side, then the other, goes low and high and low again. Jason lags a move behind, managing to cover up but doing so when she's already looking somewhere else. Not every strike lands the way she'd want it to. He's got the size advantage, for one, and seems to recall at least parts of using his forearms to block incoming hits, but moving around him is clearly more than he can handle when he's surprised.

Fortunately, as the shock ebbs, Jason's able to start holding his own again. More swings are blocked, and she even gets clipped with a counterblow that, while desperate, is still accurate. With a quick twist, she separates from him, shaking out her hand and taking an inventory of his own bearing. Stance, hand positioning, and (admittedly) how much the pain is wearing on him.

Passing marks. A light smirk of her own in response, much more confident than the slightly unnerving grimace on his face. "There's much more to fighting than just having the faster hands or the tougher jaw. Your opponent will tell you things as you fight them. It's up to you to interpret what they mean. Defend yourself."

And back into it. This time, she's mixing in kicks and knees along with open-hand and palm-heel strikes, giving him another vector to worry about. More of Jason's own hits are landing, though, and it might not seem out of the question that he could take the bout if he can just outlast her...

Until one of his more looping swings is caught. She pushes forward, his inner elbow coming to a dead stop against her forearm, and Xue's other hand flashes out-

-to stop a bare inch from his windpipe. "Point."

[tatbro]

The pause of her lecture is enough to let him catch his breath. Enough for him to regain his stance once more, a thin sheen of sweat already breaking out on his forehead. And, to her credit-- he is listening. He does squirrel that information away for later. On Rook, on that hell island, it was usually who had the bigger gun, who had the better aim, who had the superior armor. Here? A whole different ecosystem. It was clear

Jason wasn't sure what he preferred. He'd dragged himself from sniveling terrified tourist to mass-murderer in what only felt like hours, always high off his ass from whatever Citra and her Rakyat were feeding him-- both substance and lies. He'd never stopped to consider technique, never paused to think about how he might do as they needed without leaving bodies in his wake, without tearing a path clear across the ecosystem, breaking down barriers and load-bearing pinheads of the organization until martial law was pushed to it's breaking point. Until the small, secluded system threatened to buckle entirely.

It had felt like he was the lord of the flies. Now back on even ground, there was something to be said if it was honorable, or if he had just been killing and maiming men indiscriminately with no care their actual danger level.

A blink, and he's back in his feet. In his body. Staring Xue down with animal eyes. Pupils constructed, almost nonexistent in the green surrounding.

She's tough. She's fast. He'd known that. But Jesus, how the hell could she throw a punch that leveled the men twice her size back in his past hell? How the hell has he not been able to do much but fend her off?

There. An opening. Letting her guard down for a fraction of a second. Jason takes it without hesitation. Without thought. Hopes to snatch it with a haymaker, admittedly heavily telegraphed. Hopefully end it before he had to tap out. His chest is burning-- as is all the bruises he's now littered with.

He takes that shot-- and she catches it. Mid-swing. Fucking catches the damn thing. Damn near snatches it out of thin air-- settling her match point with what he can only describe as a self-satisfied smirk.

Blinking, Jason lets out a barked noise. Panting, unsure what had really happened. Like the two fighters had just been caught in resin, both heaving in place.

He swallows. Huffs a breath; is that disappointment? Or determination.

"Arrite. Okay You won that one."

He sounds almost indignant, a half-laugh bleeding through his tone. Jason has never liked losing.

"Do I get any half-credit for surviving that round?"

[warwaited]

"I don't really know what Americans like and "hamburger" felt... mean." She laughs, taking in a deep breath while she raises her hand and pushing it down as she lets it out. Both light and steady, both gleeful and serious. "There's a recipe for hot and sour soup that I have been trying to make work with me for some time now. Maybe once I get a proper handle on it, we can discuss things over a late meal."

It might feel like she was coming onto him if Xue wasn't also settling into an obvious combat stance. Different from what she usually takes at a glance - rather than the grounded and steady footing she usually takes, now she's lighter on her feet. One hand is held low, the other high and open. A single roll of her higher wrist, and she nods once. "We already have some things to talk about after this, if you're willing. But for now? This will be a... an expression of skill. On both sides. I hope that you find this as fulfilling as I do."

And just like that, she's upon him. Most of the time, she makes him wait - lets him tire himself out against her guard, then marks his positioning, his footwork, the precision of his strikes. He's been getting better in all of them, but the feeling's persisted that it isn't what he's meant to be doing. She's working against a fighting style that already exists, and though the discipline she teaches doesn't technically have a name, it still has... expectations.

Now, he's getting to see it used to its fullest. She's fast. The floor is crossed in just a couple of steps, and rather than work with his offensive technique, she's barely letting him get a word in. Ducking to his sides, taking quick shots at his body and limbs.

[tatbro]

"Not really. I mean-- stereotype-- but not wrong."

It was enough for him to chuckle. Another foreign feeling, someone genuinely making him laugh.

"It'd sure beat takeout for the twentieth time in a row..."

A chuckle of his own, slightly forced. Slightly awkward, though his lopsided smirk is still present. Though he's still seen something in that gaze every time he looks, it feels like things were calming down a bit. Less on edge, less concerned she might genuinely try to kill him for... whatever reason she would want to. Jason finds himself wondering why he's been afraid, concerned in the first place--

And then she darts into action. His noise of surprise is bitten down, quick to catch up. Fast to huff an exhale of surprised pain on the first hit, then the second. Gritting his teeth as she gives him no room to do much more than respond, blocking as many as he can. Left, right, left, left, right, no time to breathe no time to react. Just following those movements as he's backed steadily across the mat. Nothing like their previous spars, nothing like the easy win he'd complained about earlier. Pupils like pinpricks as adrenaline is dumped into his veins-- and a stumbled grunt as she clocks him in the jaw.

Finally taking a second to breathe, to find his form again. Eyes still not having left her, for even a second. Since he'd walked into the dojo earlier at the start of the lesson, and certainly not wavering now during this one.

"Christ--!"

Diving back in, refusing to be a coward. Refusing to let the teacher simply bat him around like a cat toy, jaw set in determination. At least when she inevitably beat him, with her zero-to-one-hundred attitude, he could say he kept his feet under him.

He's not sure when he notices. It's almost enough to concern him, almost enough to scare him. Insane, as he's collecting bruises like trading cards--

that smirk had never left.

[warwaited]

Something strange happens the more he talks. Strange and concerning. She's attentive to start with, almost too much so, making a point of the way her eyes stay on him and her body faces his regardless of where she moves. He doesn't like an easy win? She nods, noting but not passing judgment either way. It's only when the chocolate metaphor comes into play that things begin to get weird.

Xue smiles. He's had his chocolate. He feels unfulfilled. Many do, but the purity of it is what starts to stoke the fire under her. He keeps talking, and she smiles wider. By the time he reaches the obviousness of it being a hobby - of doing this for no other reason than simple enjoyment, doing it because it's something he can do and something he can be good at, she's practically beaming. She's smiling like she's seeing the sunrise. She's smiling like the world is filled with pleasure and joy.

She is smiling, in fact, like she's going to kick his ass so hard vertebrae spray out of his mouth.

As the engine spins itself out and Jason falls silent, Xue hooks her thumbs through the sash around her waist. Drawing both hands to one side, she unties the wrap binding it to her torso, and folds it in her hands before setting it down on the bench. She'd seen it was distracting him, and while she doesn't know why, it's certainly for the better that he's aware for this.

He can see her resettle herself. Draw back, a bit, and find her center. "Before we proceed any further with this, let me lay something to rest. You have been getting better. It may not seem like it, especially when the yardstick of your peers isn't especially flattering, but I didn't tell you what you had improved on just to stoke your ego. No, you aren't used to it. But you are progressing."

A deep, slow breath, taken in through her mouth and blown out through her nose. Oh, God, the smile's back. "But I understand what you mean. I understood as soon as you related it. You've had your chocolate, mm?"

The smile's wider. She's going to kill him. She's going to somehow kill him with just her bare hands. "Now you want your steak." A full-chested, eager laugh, and she walks perpendicular to him, padding to the training floor and beckoning for him to follow. "That's good! That's very good."

[tatbro]

"That's a relief."

Ah, good indeed-- potential! There's only a split second of change in his eyes as the instructor moves. As her hands shift to her waist, discarding that aggressive sash. He only shifts his gaze for a microsecond, from her sash to her hands-- then her eyes. Finally meeting her face, seeing that smile. A.... genuine smile. Something Jason hasn't been given in so, so long. She smiles as he talks, voice struggling to stay even, not peter out into his usual silence. Fights to stay there, standing lost in that doorway. Forced his feet to stay planted, not throw it all and flee from prolonged contact.

And then, she speaks.

Understands.

It feels like he's given up his queen in chess, and it was only a matter of time before she captured all his pieces, a slow but steady defeat staring him in the eye. Idly, he wonders what the feeling behind his heart is as he willingly steps forward to meet the woman on the sparring mat. Hands even at his sides, not even bothering to take off his hoodie. Maybe she'd make him regret his choice of leisure clothing. Maybe he'd learn something new. It felt positive, at least, swelling in his ribcage, but he's forgotten it's name. Grant would know. He was always better than Jason at almost anything they did. Keith might've told him he was thinking too much.

With a blink and a slight head shake, the warrior survivor clears his head. He hopes this is the right choice. Might've been easier to go home and lie down, stare at the ceiling like he usually did. Of course, any choice would be his own, though; and that's good enough. He follows.

"I was thinking about a triple double, actually. But sure. I like steak."

God, what he'd give for five minutes at an In-and-Out. The food here was good, but nothing was better than a heart attack in a warm foil wrapper back stateside. He'd just have to get past the hurdle of ordering.

A moment spent to stretch his arms, bouncing on his feet as he starts to circle like an animal. Form, keep your form. Don't make her regret noticing the improvement only to choke at the last second! Don't fuck it up! Don't--

A smirk. He's not sure how he recalls how to make his face twist, but it does. Half up, half down. Almost guilty, as if asking a parent for ice cream at 2am with no real expectation and actually being told to get in the car, don't tell mom.

"Is the kitchen still open?"

[tatbro]

[warwaited]

“It can be “fine” and not be “good”. People can understand the reasoning behind something without feeling it’s justified.” Where he’s a coiled spring of barely restrained aggressive action, Xue is as placid as Jason can’t be. She unscrews the top of a bottle of her own; not water, some brightly coloured bottle he’s seen siblings of in the corner stores he’s breezed through like a ghost. She was going to throw it at his goddamn head. There’s a cartoon aloe leaf on the side.

She takes a sip. He keeps talking. There’s a bit of impressed interest in her face after watching him snap the bottle out of the air without looking - seemingly without even perceiving. Does he know there’s something in his hand now?

“To be a good teacher, it’s important to first be a good student. To teach, you need to know how to learn. How to help others learn, too, even when they don’t realize how best to do it.” Another sip. She’s going for eye contact. He’s staring at her waist like he expects her sash to jump out at him. “With most of the others it’s simple. They want to protect themselves, or learn a skill that gets them more in touch with the instrument of their body.” A couple of stronger, thirstier gulps, and Xue puts the cap back on the bottle with a wry chuckle.

“Sometimes they just want to impress girls. Those ones don’t last.” Despite the fact that he started this conversation, she seems happy to put in most of the legwork for it and let him come to points and conclusions at his own speed. And yet, there’s something very aware in the way she looks at him. Perhaps not seeing through him, certainly not grazing the fathomless, hostile jungle that feels more a part of him at this point than his own skin, but this is a woman who has gotten very good at threat identification.

Maybe she thinks he’s a threat. Maybe that’s why the line was drawn between her hand and his face, all the way across the room. “You I’m less sure about, though. You are right- you have been learning. You have power behind your strikes, and your footwork has been improving on pace… when you remember it.” Another of those faintly playful - goading? - smiles.

“But that isn’t really why you’re here. You think you know- I apologize. You know how to fight. You… press yourself into different shapes, to follow the instructions I give you. But it isn’t your natural, resting state.”

Her head cocks, just for a moment. Gauging. Judging. “Is it that you don’t like it? The… way you are.”

[tatbro]

His first answer is raised eyebrows. The first genuine tell of emotion he's shown-- possibly since he'd gotten here. A cascade of blinks, finally pulling his stare from that aggressive ruby at her waist, finally meeting her in the eye. His brow doesn't stay raised long, however. Already feeling like he's lost a match point, can feel the heat of embarrassment hot in his blood.

"I like it enough."

Answered perhaps a bit too quickly, a bit too on the nose. Immediately a tell for a non-truth, surely. Echoing her words almost to a T, as if he was afraid to venture out, use different ones.

"I mean-- okay, I don't like an easy win. But it's..."

He trails off. Searching the air above her head for the words, studies that aloe water in her hands. Half empty. Wouldn't hurt to get hit with now, might even make him chuckle. There are better projectiles she could choose. Is this even the right place for this conversation? The right time? It feels like yesterday he was skinning wild game, bartering and selling and fiending so hard for just five minutes of air conditioning. For even thirty seconds of a shower, for the mundanity of society and the security of normal life.

"You ever..."

Once again fighting for words. His voice feels alien. Feels fake. It feels like he's stolen it from someone. But he's not sure who. It's the software currently installed, so he might as well use it. It doesn't feel like he has many options. The words aren't coming, and he's not smart enough to find alternatives. But he can at least try to get the idea across without spilling his guts all over the dojo's floor.

"I like chocolate. But not all the time. Every meal being chocolate would suck. But if there's options-- I would be sick of chocolate after a week of nothing but, but it'd still be my choice."

Fucking hell, just tell her exactly what you went through! Just spill it all out, from that one simple question! He'd not even told Liza so much, not uttered even half that length of time speaking with her. Not even for lack of trying-- the rest of the group seemed so scared of him afterwards. Even during, Daisy starting up her armchair psychologist act and Grant's voice echoing still, telling him how many ways he was doing things wrong. They hadn't seemed receptive, but he hadn't tried all that hard either.

Now, he was faced point-blank with that question like a shotgun muzzle to the nose, and though he couldn't find the words, he was at least appreciative she wasn't treating him like a lost child.

"It's. A hobby."

A breath. In. Then out. You promised you'd let it go. So let it go!

"I'm not used to this... Style. I want to get better."

With any level of firearm? He'd picked it up fast. Had gone to the range a few times as a reckless kid with nothing to do, had some idea from that and the various games he and Ollie would play in their downtime. But now? With just his bare hands, in a whole new environment? Jason felt just as raw and exposed, defenseless as he had been before everything went south. It was much easier to win an altercation behind a sniper rifle than it was with just his fists and form. He wanted to grow and improve, get past the feeling of terror at every waking moment-- and this was the way to do so.

"Idunno if I have been."

[warwaited]

Something Xue has been able to pride herself on since she began the “after” of her journey is figuring out what has caused people’s paths to intersect with hers. There are many reasons to learn to fight, after all. Some people just want the exercise or the sense of community - they’re easy. She gives them approval when they earn it, advice when they don’t, and otherwise leave them well enough alone to socialize among themselves.

The sifu of the remade dojo also tends to see a lot of kids who are tired of being bullied. She spends more time on them. Not trying to warn them off of the path they’ve decided to walk, of course, but warning them that steps taken in anger can rarely be walked back. She’s not sure if her gentle coaching does much for them, but Xue is certain that they can make use of the forms and techniques she teaches them.

Then, exceedingly rarely. She gets someone like the foreigner.

He’s only the third. The other two had only spent a small amount of time in her class. The fighter had suspicions that they were in some way related to Sean, or maybe one of Fajar’s boys who wanted to come and have a go at the woman who had beaten their boss nearly to death before giving him a chance to change his trajectory. They hadn’t tried to start anything, thankfully, but she’d felt their eyes on her even when she wasn’t looking. He’s similar, but not the same. Something about him was oddly familiar in a way she didn’t especially like, and she couldn’t place his truly awful accent (what little she’d been able to hear of it) either.

Colour her shocked, then, when late in the evening it’s his voice that greets her while she’s busy unwrapping her hands. Immediately, his suppositions about her are proven right. It’s in the way her back straightens as her knees bend, a slight twist in her spine as if she’s preparing to dodge… something. Then, the moment passes, and she turns to face him fully. She doesn’t even twitch when he hits her with maybe the worst offering of a conversation she’s ever heard. There’s a twinge of amusement in her face as she puts the bandages in her pocket. “Long enough to be comfortable with it.”

Thank god, it’s English and not Cantonese. Surprisingly good English, actually, though the accent is obvious.

“I apologize if you’ve felt I was… disrespecting your experience in our spars. I know you’ve fought before.” A few steps are taken towards the bench, and she waggles a water bottle at Jason before tossing it underhand in his direction. “Some of the others get competitive. And… I didn’t know that you would appreciate a more serious bout. Some people…” Xue trails off, trying to find the words.

“They do this to be further from what they were. Gentler, even in action.”

[tatbro]

As she turns, Jason can't help the sudden onset feeling of facing opposition. Of seeing, for that fleeting moment, an enemy, bathed in red with a murder wish on the mind. Silly, of course. Something the others in his group might make fun of him for, even. But it had been there all the same. He can already hear Ollie laughing, though the voice is distant and from another life entirely. Remembering the jokes he would make about 'hearing boss battle' music or whatever, the laidback smoker fluent in all terms Playstation. Jason had been the same, at one point, jumping from hobby to hobby as he mastered them. Or, as he got bored. Nothing felt fulfilling, even before the island. Now, it just felt like faking.

Seeing her tense, seeing her possibly sensing the same in one of her students-- it had sent a twinge down his spine, a tensing in his biceps. His breathing, unwavering. His stance, strained-- though it had been strained before, gearing up for human contact. His eyes, staring unblinking, almost menacingly. Emotions and facial expressions were another thing he's been relearning, and even from across the room he reads her apprehension, then humor. At least she's decided to let him keep his head attached for now.

At his forearm, that stupid tatau starts to burn. He ignores it.

He also doesn't move from where he stands in one of the doorways, giving her as much space as she needs. Trying to mentally jumprope his way into accepting he needs it just as much. That red sash at her hip was blinding.

"No, it's fine."

Catching that offering in one hand, only moving his hand to snatch it out of thin air. Never once letting his eyes wander, following the edges of the crimson along her clothes. He trusts that she won't suddenly want him dead for just asking a question, but his blind trust has been thrown back in his face before. God, did it have to be so fucking bright?

"I'm learning."

How to fight better. How to hold his stances, match opponents. How to be respectful, treat this as the friendly if not competitive sport it should be. How to restrain himself from a killing blow no matter how easy it would be no matter how adrenaline-thick his blood ran no matter how quickly his heart raced and his head throbbed and how much it was his responsibility and their last hope and only way to fix--

"You're a good teacher."

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Remembering to blink, to relax his shoulders. Easy. Easy. They weren't in the ring, there was no life or death. No one was in danger-- though he still mentally catalouged the fire exits and cover areas (one behind him, one on the other end of the building, a table and other tippable funiture.)

Cracking open the offered drink, holding it. This hadnt been that well thought out-- unable to simply come forward and ask the burning, prying questions. Of her past, of what she'd seen, why she was here. Contemplating what to say next, settling on that topic of sparring.

"It's fun. The sparring-- I've only really been in street scraps before."

A cough, clearing his throat. A half-lie. Half-truth? What would you even classify that island from hell? Jason forces his shoulders down. Forces himself to take a drink. Breaking eye contact, though shamefully keeping the teacher in his peripheral.

"My younger brother used to get bullied a lot."

Not anymore.

[tatbro]

There was something in her eyes when they first met, during that first instructed class. Intense, older than her frame might suggest. Knowledgeable, in ways he'd only seen staring harrowly back from reflections in passing puddles, in bathroom mirrors he failed to avoid. Something about the way she carried herself, even in what was supposed to be something of an extracurricular. Just something to pass the time, let off excess steam. Learn better skills, prepare for the shit world they all inhabited. Perhaps even be social, non-lethal combattants stopping at the sound of a bell.

Something there, in her eyes. Something he wished he didn't recognize as she demonstrated form and technique.

They'd never spoken. Nothing past grunted sounds of exertion as the classes continued, her technique admittedly better than his own. But that's why he was there, right? To learn? It was different, with pads and flourescent lights-- nothing like the feral bug-ridden islands, pockets heavy with extra ammuniton and grip threatened as it ran slick with blood.

There was something there-- something none of the others in the class seemed to have. Or notice, in any case. Probably for the best, actually.

Jason didn't go out of his way to really talk to any of them. How could he? He was barely social any more himself, changed for the worse since returning stateside. Slowly relearning the do's and don't's of society, of civilized life. Pulling away from friends, taking a break from Liza. Moving entire fucking continents to get away from it all, applying himself for once in his life to try and figure things out. Grant might've called him a coward, but Grant was dead. He'd been dead a while now. What did he know?

His Mandarin was, in all senses of the words, absolute shit. Barely conversational, barely good enough to get by. So he didn't bother trying. Already enough of an outcast here, a mix of a tourist and immigrant. He didn't care what people thought. It had been a month of this class, meeting every weekend, and finally, finding an excuse to talk to her. Overcoming his disgust for humanity for just long enough, pulling on an old hoodie as they closed down the training hall for the evening.

Curiosity, nothing less. Worst she'd do was ignore him, shoo him out the door.

"Hey."

Excellent start.

"You really know your stuff here."

Dumbass. She was the damn instructor. If he'd been smart, he would've asked her name first, either having forgotten or not been paying attention at the beginning. But then again, he'd never shared his own often either. Never felt the need to, weirdly at odds with his identity and humanity as a whole. No biggie. They could still chat.

"Been doing this long?"

@warwaited

[rpdepartment]

simple yet specific relationships & reverse starters meme!

send one of the followings emojis or prompts if you have ideas for relationships & plots when it comes to our muses, but you don't know how to start! in return, i'll go through either yours or my prompts and try to send you something to work with your wishes! feel free to send more of them at the same time too!!

note: with "my muse", we mean the sender's

NEUTRAL

🙂 a simple first meeting should work

🤭 my muse wants to know yours better

🤗 my muse doesn't know yours, but heard of them /pos

🤔 my muse doesn't know yours, but heard of them and has no strong feelings about them. yet.

😄 my muse is related or friend of someone your muse is friends with

😕 my muse is related or friend of someone your muse dislikes

😍 my muse is related or friend of someone your muse loves

PLATONIC & FAMILIAL

🐶 they could be friends!!!!

🐺 they were friends in the past, but lost contact with eachother

🐣 they're family!!!

🐔 my muse is a distant relative of yours

🐴 my muse is a fan of yours

🦝 my muse is an old friend who yours didn't see in a while

🐭 our muses are online friends

ROMANTIC & SEXUAL

❤️ my muse wants to kiss yours (in a romantic way)

💙 my muse has a one sided crush on yours

💚 our muses are exes

🧡 my muse used to have a crush on yours some time ago

💛 my muse wants to kiss yours (mostly in a sexy kind of way)

💜 our muses had a one night stand

🖤 our muses are fuckbuddies

ANTAGONISTIC & NEGATIVE

🥄 my muse doesn't know yours, but heard of them /neg

🔨 they should beat eachother up

💣 my muse hates yours

🗡️ our muses hate eachother

🔪 my muse is scared of yours

⛏️ they were friends in the past, but they had a serious fight

🪓 my muse wants to kill yours

WORK & SCHOOL

📅 they're forced to cooperate

📋 my muse wants yours to work for them

📚 our muses know eachother from school

📊 our muses know eachother from work

📌 my muse works for yours

📭 your muse works for mine

📖 my muse is or was your muse's teacher

OTHER ODDLY SPECIFIC SCENARIOS

🍉 they should work together to beat someone else up

🍋 our muses are in a fake relationship

🍏 my muse needs yours to pretend to be their partner

🍒 my muse is famous, and i'd love to see yours reaction to see them

🍓 my muse is a troublemaker and yours find them after a fight

🍇 my muse is sad for any reason and crosses paths with yours

🍊 my muse catches yours doing something illegal

[rpdepartment]

Fear & Hunger Sentence Starters based on character's dialogues

40 starters | TW: violence, death

« There's no avoiding it I guess. »

« I guess I'll manage on my own then. »

« I’m tired of all this doom and gloom! »

« But frankly, I just want to survive, okay? »

« I didn’t realize you were such an asshole. »

« Talk about traumatizing events… Sheesh… »

« Listen… I… I can’t go on anymore. I need a break from all this… »

« I do have a mission here, but let's save that story for another day, yeah? »

« I really need to sit down for a while… What I don’t need is someone bossing me around. »

« Maybe it’s better that you just do you and I do what I see best. It’s what’s kept me alive this long. »

« I’ll play the game with its rules. »

« Give me a reason to forgive you. »

« What-- Where is this coming from!? »

« I’m once again the damsel in distress… »

« This is the second time of you saving me already! »

« I’m sorry for such weakness. I’ve been trained better. »

« No way. NO WAY! What are you thinking!? That’s disgusting! »

« We’ve been through so many failures and triumphs together! »

« I'm here to protect a special someone. I won't let anyone stand in my way! »

« Thank you for your help for a thousand times! Without you I'd be dead by now! »

« I've been alone all my life. »

« That's it. I'll deal with you here and now. »

« Listen I am through with this conversation. »

« This is not a place for pesky little worms like you. »

« Are we really having this conversation? No we are not. »

« I can't even remember the last time I actually felt something. »

« If anything, it's you who needs my assistance in this bottomless hellhole »

« I can't believe I followed you down here! How miserable of a way is this to die?! »

« I can see how a brute like yourself wouldn't understand the meaning of libraries »

« I'm not here to make acquaintances and I fail to see what worth chatting with you would bring. »

« Tell me - are you evil? »

« So you got a dead wish after all. »

« Your pleads are for the deaf ears. »

« Run or die. I will give you a tiny headstart. »

« I won't let anyone stand in my way of revenge. »

« Maybe we were never meant to survive this darkness. »

« I’m sorry for doubting myself. I believe I can trust in you. »

« You got a tongue of a serpent, has anyone ever told you that? »

« In a way it's reassuring to see that I'm not completely alone here. »

[tatbro]

one of these days ill get around to commissioning a theme/icon base/answered banner for this blog lmao.... that is not today

[tatbro]

kinda scary how each passing day jason forgets more and more how to interact with other people