All 07.5 - Challenge Accepted

Afternoon sun streamed through the sitting room window, scattering off of the snow piled on the sill. Virgil lay in his cradle, grabbing at a mobile, while Victor swept the floor, humming. It was two days after having returned from the Ahpkalawok, the undead menace vanquished and a new teleport station installed. He hadn't heard from anyone since returning, but he wasn't particularly bothered by it; he didn't speak to much of anyone outside of work, and Lucca would be around eventually. Almost as if on cue, he heard the front door open and close, and the familiar sound of a disgruntled youth kicking off a heavy pair of rubber boots. 
"Hey geezer, you doin' anything important?" Lucca's voice reached him a few moments before the druid poked his head into the room, irritation readily apparent in his tone. He paused a beat, casting a disdainful glance first at the broom, then at Victor. "The hell is this nonsense? Yeah, definately not. Hausfrau time is over, dude, cut that shit out." He paused a beat before adding, almost begrudgingly, "You need to give me a hand with something."
"I like clean floors, and I don't see you sweeping them," Victor replied as he continued his chore, his tone chipper. As he swept the dirt into a pan, he added congenially, "What would you like?"
"You're a freak; why would you care one way or another? It's a goddamn floor! It's practically supposed to be dirty!" With a disgusted wave of his hand, he switched gears, "Ugh! Anyway. I am trying to recalibrate and get shit sorted out with...you know...but I just...uuuugh!" He rubbed at his face and sighed, "My balance is shot, and my spatial sense is a fucking write-off...I mean, it's all well and good for doing normal shit, I always pick that up pretty easy...but if something happened and I somehow had to fight someone like that or some shit? I'd be fucking toast. Hell, I'd probably stand a good chance of breaking my neck if I tried to run up a flight of stairs! It's bullshit!" He had begun pacing the room as he spoke, but stopped with a scowl, "It's not fuckin' happening though, I am not going to be handicapped by something so stupid. If that's me, then spirits help me I will have my fucking balance and coordination, and be able to fight just as damn well as I can when I'm like this." He paused and sighed, "But it'll take about a million years on my own, which is crap." He levelled an almost challenging look at the other man, "So. You're gonna help."
Victor finished sweeping the dust up before standing and facing Lucca, smiling and with something of a combative glint in his eyes. "Excellent," he said, "Let me just put these away then." He went into the kitchen, disposing of the dirt out the back door and putting the broom away. "I assume sparring is probably too high of a step to begin with, if you're relearning motion. What did you want to start with, dodging? Or more basic balance exercises?" As he asked, he returned to the sitting room, collecting Virgil and heading upstairs.
"I don't need 'basic', I'm not learning to walk, dumbass." Lucca followed close behind.
Another cradle was set up in the hallway already, just outside the door to the room that was used for training: close enough that one could keep an eye on the baby, without actually exposing the child to weaponry. Virgil was becoming quite babbly, and Victor talked to him in a characteristic baby voice as they went up the stairs. He put Virgil down and turned to address Lucca. "Dodging then?"
The pair entered the room. Victor stretched as Lucca paced about for a bit before shifting into his base form. Turning around, Victor stifled a grin. "That won't work. In the slightest."
"What?" Lucca snapped, his tone ambivalent, but his expression more than a little apprehensive.
With his somewhat patronizing smile, he gestured with his gaze, "Your hair. You can't possibly fight effectively the way you're wearing it."
Lucca puffed up, "Fuck you, old man. What are you even talking about? It's tied back!"
"A ponytail isn't enough when you have seven feet of hair."
"Ugh, whatever. What do you know? Shut up up and quit your stalling."
"Alright. Lesson one then." Without any further warning, Victor lunged forward. By now, Lucca was used to his fast starts and immediately fell into a defensive position, ready to block or dodge the incoming strike. At the last second, Victor feinted, using his momentum to slide behind the druid unexpectedly. As Lucca spun to face him, Victor's hand had already reached out and grabbed at the voluminous black river of hair. Lucca's head turned, but his hair, held in Victor's hand, stayed still, and he found his face now buried in the strands of his own ponytail. Fluidly and still holding the hair, Victor ducked behind him again, effectively wrapping Lucca's head in a blindfold of slick black locks. Lucca lashed out, growling and spitting furiously, but couldn't land a proper strike, bound as he was. With an air of finality, Victor yanked back on the hair while simultaneously kicking out Lucca's knee, causing the changeling to lurch backwards and fall to the floor. Putting a foot near the base of Lucca's hair pinned him, his face and head trapped under a black binding. He cursed and swore and flailed, but he couldn't get his head free of the trap. Victor kept smiling his obnoxiously knowing grin. "If you're going to wear long hair, tie it back properly." He waited until Lucca, amidst cusses most flavourful, called truce before lifting his foot up, freeing him.
Lucca sat up, scowling darkly as he swatted his hair out of his face. "What the hell is wrong with you!? Shit! That's fucking cheating and you know it!!"
Victor shrugged, "It was a legitmate opening. Do you know how to tie a braid?"
"Of course I know how to tie a fucking braid, smartass!" He shot the older man a withering glare, "How the fuck am I supposed to braid it when I can barely put a brush through all of it, eh? Riddle me that, genius!"
"Hmm. Good point." Victor looked thoughtful, "I was wondering how you were brushing it, actually." He turned and began leaving the room. "Go to Virgil's room. This might take a bit, and it's more comfortable on the rug than the bare wood."
"Are you fucking kidding me!?" He stared after him with a look of indignation, "What the hell are you going on about? Where are you going? Get your ass back here; we haven't even started yet!"
In lieu of a reply, Victor scooped up Virgil again and, chatting to the baby, walked down the hall. With a frustrated growl Lucca got up and stalked after him. 
Convening in the baby's room, set up as it was with toys and things, Victor passed the child to Lucca. "Wait one moment," he said before ducking out of the room. In a moment, he returned with a hair brush and a bunch of ties and pins. 
Pausing in the midst of explaining to Virgil that his father was an "absolute butthead" Lucca regarded the objects warily, "What the hell are..."
"You are going to play with Virgil, and I am going to tie your hair back." Lucca went to protest, but Victor shushed him soundly. With a noise of displeasure, and a rather spiteful glare, Lucca begrudgingly consented. Virgil was beginning to push himself up and sit, but hadn't yet mastered the art of crawling; sitting on a blanket with an array of toys, Lucca entertained the baby while Victor began the lengthy task of combing and braiding Lucca's hair. The druid reflexively dodged his intial attempts to begin, and it took a stern word to get him to keep still. Initially he sat stiffly as Victor worked out the knots in his hair, a dark glower colouring his expression, and although he went through the motions of entertaining Virgil, his attention was clearly elsewhere. However, it wasn't long before he began to gradually relax, and by the time Victor began braiding, Lucca was engaged in a rather animated game of peek-a-boo with the child, barely pausing to warn the other man to "watch it" when his fingers inadvertantly brushed against his neck. Victor, for his part, ignored the druid's surliness and went quietly and contentedly about his task, proving himself to be rather deft at the art of weaving hair. Twisting and tying, he eventually managed to gather the changeling's copious locks into a series of braids, looped about into a bun which would be significantly less of a combative liability. Virgil had begun to be sleepy after all of the play, and after putting him down to nap in the hall cradle, the two men returned to their original task.
"Alright, dodging," Victor reiterated, taking up a loose ready stance. "Anything in particular you want to focus on? Footwork, arms, positioning?" he suggested.
He screwed up his face as he thought, eventually replying, "All of it I guess? I still know what I'm doing, it's not like I forgot or something...I don't have to relearn how to do any of it...I just don't have the right feel for where things are, or muscle memory anymore; everything is off by a few inches, and that's enough to fuck it up royally...so like...I dunno," he shrugged, "general practice, I guess?"
"Well then," he tightened his fists and grinned imperiously, "let's see how easily you bruise." Once more he dashed forward. He wasn't particularly skilled at fist-fighting; his punches weren't exactly the strongest and it was obvious he lacked the finesse he displayed with a weapon. However, he was still fast and never fought less than lethally, making him more than enough of a challenge for the druid. He pressed his offense, jabbing repeatedly from different angles while dancing around his opponent, forcing Lucca to dodge, parry and move about.
From the first swing, it became blatantly clear what the younger man had been talking about; half-turning, he sidestepped, the correct response to the punch Victor had thrown, but he misjudged, his foot landing too hard and pitching him off balance. Stumbling, he scrambled to block the next blow, barely managing to get his hands up in time. Moving frantically, the druid did his best to fend off the assault, taking a fair few solid hits in the process, and almost sending himself sprawling more than once in the process.
"Hmm..." Victor noted Lucca's erratic motions. He didn't exactly slow himself, but began to subtly telegraph his motions more clearly, moving in a more predictable fashion to let the druid plan his response and work out his altered proportions.
Category:Advent of the All