pull out the first cord

[thereisnopie]

Characters: Gamzee and YOU.
Setting: Over several floors. You can pick where you run into him.
Format: Starting in prose. Will match anything.
Summary: Gamzee wanders, believing he's attached to the machine again.
Warnings: Typical troll pottymouth + bonus. Also most of my icons are kinda cruddy placeholders right now.


It feels real enough. He'll give it that. But then, it had always felt real to him. There were times he wondered if he'd ever actually been removed from the program at all. Perhaps they'd just let him feel like he had while still keeping him securely under their control.

This was a little silly, though. Even for them.

Gamzee had found his clothes, changing into them gratefully as that tight white outfit just wouldn't fly. He even wore the straight jacket, buckles hanging loose and long sleeves falling past his hands as his arms hung at his sides. In a way, he likes what it stands for. And here even that is a small comfort.

Cal's arms are looped around his neck, tied in a simple knot so they stay in place, and the doll hangs down his back. His silent partner. He takes everything in as he quietly walks the halls. What's left of the sedatives from the ward make him appear a bit dazed, but they'll wear off soon enough.

Comments

[warriorscribe]

"I've needed to be prepared to fight for much longer than this." A bit of a tentative smile that's really more of a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth that doesn't last a second. It might not have been a smile at all, in fact.

"...It seems as if you have, too."

[thereisnopie]

He shrugs at that. "Kinda. Don't all know what motherfuckin' counts anymore." Fighting in the program had only been going through the motions in real life, and he had none of the abilities he'd had in the game.

"You wanna test a brother out?"

[warriorscribe]

"You don't know what counts?" Enoch repeated, trying to figure out what that meant. Experience was experience, wasn't it?

"What do you mean?"

He could address the idea of a spar or contest at some point when he knew what the boy was saying.

[thereisnopie]

The kid just shrugs again. Going on about it to too many people will just put how much it bothers him on display for everyone to see.

"I mean the practice I got might not all be considered real, as it were all mostly in my mind. You dig?"

[warriorscribe]

Not all real... Well, his first encounter with an Arch was technically in a vision (though weapons of God were odd like that, they followed him into battles that took place inside his own soul...), but what he'd learned about how to use it, or rather, the style he learned was most comfortable for him carried over when the vision had ended.

...Then again, that was a waking vision, more illusion than dream. Would it have been the same if he'd passed out to learn it?

"You mean you were trained through visions?"

[thereisnopie]

"...Sure, let's call it that." It was as close as anything, and he'd rather not go into all the details again. They might as well be called visions if he didn't fully experience them in real life. In fact, he was tempted just to go with that explanation from now on. Why not?

"Weren't all as motherfuckin' hands on as I'd have liked."

[warriorscribe]

Of course, Enoch's sharp enough to remember he'd asked about "testing" before.

"We could train together, then, and see where you stand. We might as well use the furniture here for something productive while we can."

[thereisnopie]

"Aight."

He doesn't even pull his hands free of his overlong sleeves, just adopts a rather lazy stance with them hanging at his sides. It might not even be all that easy to tell that this was actually his signal for the man to come at him. He doesn't think there's much need for any real preparation.

[warriorscribe]

Enoch tilts his head. Was he waiting for him to set up targets for him? Best to ask. "Ah...would you rather I set up your targets for you?"

He doesn't know the kid's strength, so how can he know what's best for him? If he sets up a target that's too dense, he could hurt himself...

He doesn't, of course, realize his words were taken as an invitation to spar instead - not that he'd object to that if Gamzee asked.

[thereisnopie]

The boy in the straight jacket just blinks at him, deadpan. "Targets?"

He flops his arms somewhat comically at his sides a couple times.

"Nah, motherfucker. Come on at me."

[warriorscribe]

Enoch looks at the kid opposite him, torn between confused and distressed. Normally he'd be inviting the younger one to come at him. It usually gave him a pretty good idea of what they could handle.

Well...he'd dismiss his armor to protect it. He'd rather a bruise than lack protection against claws or fire.

That settled, he stepped closer to Gamzee, extending his hand, much like a handshake but with the palm turned slightly up.

"To a good spar, then." He sounded exactly as uncertain as he was.

[thereisnopie]

Handshake? Nah, that just won't do.

Smiling, Gamzee ignores the hand and instead holds out his fist, fully expecting to receive a bump back from the other man.

[warriorscribe]

Enoch's hand slowly lowers as he looks at the offered fist in confusion.

"Ah..."

He's obviously a little bit helpless here. His stance doesn't mean he wishes to start, of course, and even then the fist just sitting there the same way his open hand was...

[thereisnopie]

"Bump it, motherfucker."

He doesn't move, smile still in place and fist held out toward the man.

Sorry I'm so late.

[warriorscribe]

Bump it...? Enoch looks at Gamzee's fist, then his own hand. Well, it's not like bumping it with anything but would be practical or make sense.

What an odd greeting gesture, though, he thinks as he lightly taps their knuckles together. Was it only for sparring? That would make sense, a lighthearted mock-punch to a good spar.

"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with this gesture."

No worries. I'm pretty slow myself.

[thereisnopie]

"You are now, bro." The boy winks. "Just gettin' you all set up for the fistbumping moments of the future, you dig? Gettin' you straight up schoolfed on getting your greets on."

Then he stepped back and swung a foot at the man. Apparently the spar was on.

[warriorscribe]

That wasn't what he was expecting at all. The kick comes while he's still working out what Gamzee's saying, and it hits him in the leg.

He buckles for all of a moment before jumping (off what?) into a somersault to land on his feet, where he immediately drops to a crouch and sweeps his foot out to try and knock the boy off his feet. This is a test of his abilities, so, he might as well at least gauge his ability to jump.

[thereisnopie]

Good. The blond is following along and not trying to make him wait any longer. A grin stretches across Gamzee's face and he hops up to avoid the oncoming sweep.

He was in better shape in the program. He knows this, but it doesn't help him now. Maybe they were trying to make things more realistic for him. If so, they were doing a good job.

[warriorscribe]

It isn't so much waiting as not wanting to harm him. Enoch smiles a bit at the way he so handily jumps over the sweep - kid has good reflexes, at least. But he still wants to see what Gamzee can do power-wise, that's the entire point of the hesitation. His lower body strength is certainly decent, if that kick was any indication. But it's his upper body that'll be the target, and Enoch wants an idea of what he's dealing with.

So he leaps back and beckons with his forward hand.

[thereisnopie]

But what fun is there in coming at the man just as he'd expect him to?

Gamzee grins again, taking a step or two forward before flipping up onto his hands and reorienting himself to come back down wit a kick at Enoch's head. His acrobatics were still manageable to a degree, which was good.

[warriorscribe]

That kid could definitely jump, that much was obvious now. His instinct was to retreat back, but not with the way he was flying at him. He had to cut it short - Enoch braced himself and raised his arms to block the blow, biting back a cry as his arms took Gamzee's weight.

He should have dodged forward, but most attacks from the air he's dealt with have been straight down, so he'd have tried to avoid turning his back on his opponent when they landed.

He stumbled back into the ruined table he'd set up next for practice - it fell under their weight, and Enoch tried twisting aside as he fell to keep Gamzee from being able to pin him.

[thereisnopie]

Agile as he was, he was still a scrawny little teen. There was very little chance he'd actually be able to overpower the man in a struggle to pin him. So he didn't try for that.

Instead, before he himself could be pinned, he flailed his fists in an attempt to land a blow on the other's face. It was a rather childish move, but he didn't have too many other options at this close range.

[warriorscribe]

There were ways to pin someone larger than you, but Gamzee would be right in thinking he had the disadvantage here - though Enoch was more focused on not being pinned, himself. He won't make the mistake of assuming he couldn't for his size. So his "attempt" to pin is halfhearted at best, and he actually jerks away for a moment when Gamzee's fist connects with his jaw.

He follows through on that by consciously getting up and backing away though, in the spirit of fairness. This sparring match does have a serious weight discrepancy going on.

[thereisnopie]

Gamzee backs up too, re-evaluating his slightly larger opponent. He could really use a weapon of some sort, preferably something blunt.

"Ain't all that much used to just coming at a motherfucker with my fists," he admits, holding his up like some sort of amateur boxer. Humans don't have much in the way of nails, either. Oh they have them, and he can probably grow them out if he wants, but they're rather weak as far as weapons go, and prone to tearing away too easily. Still, they're something he'll have to take into consideration when fighting in this already squishier body.

It's hard to remind himself that this is the way normal people should be, and the body he'd had before was a lie.

[warriorscribe]

Enoch's stance doesn't seem trained in any formal style, itself - though he does look quite sure of it, one hand held back near his side to punch and the other up, out, and slightly open as if to block or grab.

He rolls his shoulders a bit in the lull. "It's as good a time as ever to learn, then, but you have the advantage of already being aware of your own style." How could he not, after all, realize his strength lay in agility, given those jumps he pulled off before?

He eases his stance, arms relaxing a bit, straightening up.