adregem | 000 - voidtreckerexpress Universal Contact Post

Me? Serious? Wow. Haven't heard that in a while.

[ The wryness of his statement is colored by amusement. The plates are gathered in one sturdy grip and gently set aside on the sink, the sound of running water already following. He's efficient despite it all, okay! Already getting to work, suds in his hands, scrubbing on the way. Eggs on plates, honestly! ]

I just want to make things a little easier for whoever's in charge today. Heh. Two dishes off their...plate. If you would. [ Relax Roland, Tidus might bust a gut from laughter. ] Besides, I'm almost done. See?

[ One plate done, second plate to go. Thanks for attending Roland's TED talk on shared responsibility! ]

[ Tidus groans, short and dying, but it's there as his feet carry him a few steps away from Roland and the dad joke he's trying to inflict on him. Why does he hang out with this guy!! It has to be pity!! ]

You're a valued member of our community, [ Tidus dryly remarks, and he finally recovers from the damage taken from one bad joke by straightening back up his shoulders. Voice returning to normal as he urges, ] Hurry up so we can get going!

[ Standing here like this is so not fun, okay! Tidus gotta go!!! ]

[ He tries not to make his chuckle evident, finally finished with the quick rinse of the plate. But the mood is joking, so he'll do one better by slowly reaching out for the drying towel hanging by the side of the rack. The look on Roland's face is definitely one that's fake and jesting, poking fun at Tidus in the most obvious way even with how the lilt of his voice carries the words. ]

Oh, but what about drying them? Whaddya say? One towel and plate each? Really get into wiping this down?

[ The pretend, knowing expression he uses to make the joke breaks in a second. The plate is deposited back on the rack and the towel hangs neatly to the side too. ]

Don't get cranky, now. I'm just teasing. Let's go. Blue's gotta work hard for their points too, heh.

[ Tidus doesn't even realise his leg is getting pulled until the crime is admitted to. Waiting, and his face too is on the timer of when Tidus will eventually get fed up, and start to frown and tug his mouth more into the side of his cheek.

It doesn't get that far. Luckily for everyone, and Tidus lets out a small pah, turning on his heel already for the door out. He's not hanging around in here a second longer, man! ]

Blue already get enough! How many times did they get snacks for doing a good job on the new month stop? And Orange too! Have we ever gotten any? I don't remember getting called to luggage for a box of snacks.

[ Roland follows suit, his gait casual enough to keep up with the rush of energy from this one over here! Lead the way! ]

Me neither. To be honest, I don't think we've ever won any...Unless it happened before either of us came onboard. [ Now that's a more pah! worthy moment. ] Was that asked on the train's little Q&A? How to win treats?

[ That could be considered patronizing, Roland thinks to himself, but hey. It's worth bringing up as they walk to their destination. ]

Don't know! Check the computer, that's where people were leaving their answers. [ Right? He never got around to doing that himself, but then... everything he asked it had been a waste of time. None of it actually important or meaningful to anyone else. ]

I forget about them 'til you see people grabbing bags or boxes from the luggage car. [ Pft. ] I guess the train has favourite teams! Purple Team's gotta shape up.

[ But he's far from serious, more mocking over the idea of getting competitive over a box of cookies or whatever it's been as of late. ]

I'd rather we shape up to get the job done and get everyone home, safe and sound. Not to get a box of cookies. [ Sorry to get serious, but if Tidus isn't used to this guy by now! But the duality of man is a funny thing, because as soon as that comes out of his mouth, he then adds: ]

What kind of treats would you even risk winning such a thing for? Their selection hasn't been that exciting, from what I remember. Fudge, lollipops...Just spend three points at the store and get gummies of your choice, I say.

[ That's really the kicker here, isn't it. ]

[ woOOoowowowowow listen to this party pooper over here!! ]

Nothing! I don't want any of them. [ If you're going to call him out on it!! ] Candy's what you give a group of kids for doing a good job - not for people you're sending off to fight.

[ Not that candy isn't good, but...!!!

They're heading back through the dining carriage now, minding the people still sat eating, eyes on the way ahead and Tidus speaking over his shoulder to keep the conversation going. He didn't mind behind overheard--not about candy rewards. ]

What about you? You're not gonna get to trade doing a good job for going home.

[ Agreed. Or as ironic as it is, what you get as a prize for not making a fuss at the dentist.

He follows and responds initially with a nonchalant hum, not pausing even as a hand is raised in acknowledgment for familiar faces sat nearby, people immersed in their own little worlds. They had a ways to go, but the Quiet Coach would be next and that's a quick trip in and out at least, though voices will amplify by virtue of just being there. ]

Well, I don't know about that. [ If two worlds can be connected after all...Good work in one reflects good in the other. It has to. It will. ] And in any case, there's never any harm in trying your best, right? With or without cookies and candy. Though...

[ He idly spots the interior of one of the cars, reminiscing briefly. ]

...Heh. It'd be nice to win once, for bragging rights.

Try bragging to Light or Piccolo. I dare ya.

[ Heh. The thought alone is worth the smile on his face - a contrast to the faces that Lightning or Piccolo would be making. They wouldn't even be mad. Though, would Piccolo feel some kind of competition...? ]

You might get somewhere with the big green. [ Tidus glances once at the quiet cars, but then continues looking ahead, not really here to be a nosy nose. ] You know he took part in a sports game just to win? It was against everyone in his universe.

Did he now? Well, I admire the spirit. Though I do know a thing or two about being up against everyone in the universe myself. Or at least, the world. [ Though it seems he only seems to find a losing streak when he's off-Earth. Roland chuckles nevertheless, passing through the next car in a leisurely stride. ]

So, is he the champ or what? Come on, don't leave me hanging.

[ It's getting good, the story about winning or losing! Arms crossed against his chest but not to be mistaken for anything but habit. ]

Think so! Been a while since he told me about it - it was back on my first mission together. He was helping me teach the kids there how to play. I wanted him to leave them the parts to play with, you know? [ He looks back over his shoulder by the door that leads to the next car, waving a hand clenched, as if wielding some unseen bat. ]

They didn't have ball games, and I didn't know how happy everyone else woulda been if I took our own balls to leave them.

[ Hah. He presses the button leading into the next section and moves on through, onto the standard coach. Just this, and they'd be in the sports gym. Maybe they could use that if no one was in there busy with a game... ]

How about you write a book? [ he brings up perhaps unexpectedly, but- ] One man against the world? Sounds like an adventure, Mister President!

[ Yeah, he totally wasn't leaving that alone. ]

[ Teaching alien kids on another world ball games is one of the most Tidus things Roland's ever heard thus far, and it's nice that he does so. Roland hides his admiration behind a careful smile. He'd never have thought of that offhand, on a mission. ]

I'm sure they've evolved what you and Piccolo have taught them to a whole other level by now. You two just helped create ball game culture.

[ The standard car is one of the longest middle sections he's ever had to traverse on a ride like the Voidtrecker Express, but he supposes it made sense given how many people lived here now. This is where Tidus catches him for a loop, an unexpected topic indeed. ]

...Funny you should mention. [ Roland responds in a carefree sort of way, or as carefree as a stern man like him can get. The smile he wears is nostalgic, though. A memory accessed, not to long ago. ] I definitely owe somebody a book, but it's not gonna be about me being President. That part of my life is already well-documented. [ And the one thing his son is probably sick and tired of hearing about, if he's to be asked. ]

[ He stops only for a moment, as if his answer is worth stopping for. Protags be protags, yo. ] No. I'll write about stories in other worlds and planets, adventures in dreams and memories and all the stuff we're sent on these days. [ And for a book that hasn't been written yet, hypotheticals and all, Roland already sounds as if he is quite fond of it. ~~He is.~~ ]

Heh. Anyway. Let's get going.

[ The pause breaks, and he taps Tidus once on the arm to resume walking. Although - ]

You ever think of expanding hobbies apart from cooking and sports? [ Since Roland assumes the topic of writing comes up only with how often he's routinely caught in the same spots with his nose buried in a book, pen fluttering about pages. Work and hobby perfectly married together. ]

[ Tidus notices Roland pause, luckily to get him to do it too, face him with a stop made close to one of the booths that he bumps into the framing.

A storyteller, huh? There's a curious look in the hold of his eyes, bordering close to surprise, or maybe thoughtful. He thinks to say something, but then Roland is ready to move again, and so he resumes himself once he catches it, the colours of the void passing by the windows they do. ]

Cooking isn't really a hobby here. [ If he's honest. Though there's a groan, a hiss as he remembers suddenly-- ] That's right, I never got the book from Zanarkand! I'll buy it later.

[ He knew he was forgetting something! Ugh, whatever. ]

Anyway- it's no fun messing around with ingredients when we've only what we get for everyone, you know? [ No variety, no room for just picking up what you want. Getting off-track from the actual question. ]

But...yeah, I've thought about it. I mean, I've got training, and I play a game now and then, but I still get bored usually. Was thinking about buying some games from Zanarkand, but...

[ But that's not really a hobby, is it. ]

What can I do? Sports was my life - I didn't have time for anything else 'cept watching shows and goofing off.

Didn't have time for anything else, huh...

[ They're getting closer and closer to their destination, but that particular nugget of conversation lingers around Roland enough to warrant his finger to his chin, a quiet hum in contemplation of what to add. He's still moving of course, keeping in stride with the pacemaker over here, but he falls behind significantly at some point, slowing as gears churn.

His imagination is more vivid that most people assume from a guy so cut and dry. He thinks immediately of Tidus back in Zanarkand, piecing together what he knows of that dream within a dream, powered by the prayers of a long-forgotten people and world. A world that, as Roland understands it, existed at some point in their history, and was Tidus's home until the veil of illusion lifted all at once.

Sports was my life.

Boy does Roland know what that might feel like. So it comes as no surprise that he's already on this task as if there's something on the line if he doesn't help; even as a press of a button is the only thing in between their actual task for the morning and lingering around the train's hallways. ]

You can do a lot of things, I imagine. It's just a matter of figuring out how to repurpose the skills you perfected in blitzball somewhere else. Like...[ A beat. ]

...writing? Sketching? Yoga? Oh. Playing an instrument. Like drums, or a guitar.

[ He didn't want time for anything else, was more like it. The routines, keeping up training, relaxing in the waters and finding new ways to be better than he was the day before; cooking gave him a treat, a relaxing task with a reward at the end of it.

Feet move through to the next carriage, finally - technically - at their destination. An unsure hum pressed into pinched lips that's still thoughtful in sound. ]

I do yoga once a while since Toby does classes in the morning. [ If that counts... as a once a week thing. ] But do we have anything to learn an instrument here? Well, I guess I can ask Dyme if he's up for it. Guitars are cool.

[ Tidus opens the door from the hallway into the main gym and enters on through. The farther end is currently occupied, but there's enough space to mean nobody's going to be bumping into the other, so long as they're careful.

He looks back at Roland, a tug of a smile on one side. ]

I could play for Inigo.

[ Except, not really. ]

[ Nice, his suggestions did manage to inspire something. He does the honors of taking his place on the other end of their section, but doesn't quite do anything else apart from stay still. The smile Tidus throws his way is met in kind, a sparkle of amusement behind his eyes, mirroring the thought. ]

There we go, now we're getting ideas. [ He'll try and stretch his arms around, but hey. No rush here. They were already at the gym, after all. Forget that initially, training was supposed to be the idea but who said you couldn't do that here? ]

Whatever it is you pick, I'm sure Inigo would be able to help you. He's just as creative as you're athletic. A great balance. [ Stretch stretch. Jog in place to warm up the blood! ] Maybe the two of you could compose something together. And he could choreograph. Sounds like the start of a great new hobby to me.

[ And the guy Roland met recently on mission - Demyx - seemed to play too. Lots of choice teachers. ]

I ever tell you you get carried away with your ideas?

[ His voice echoes lightly against the open-spaced walls. These ideas revolving around people being more and more than their idle fancies originally planted them. First he's the next president of the train, and now this! But Tidus knows how to do stretches himself, has a habit of doing them when he can - crouching down and stretching his knees, stretching his arms down and getting his back warmed up too.

His aqua-styled sword appears in hand, in a flutter of gold. He gives it a few swings in the air, and then, for maximum showing off - throws it upward, catching it in its drop. Heck yeah, now we're the anime. ]

But you wanna see some of my best moves, huh? You better warm me up! I can't pull these off just for any target!

You the same guy who told me to get better hobbies, or what?

[ The air begins to charge with as much dynamism as both of them offer one another, playing off of that energy that's ready to release at any moment. Roland knows Tidus is going to give it his best regardless of training or sparring, and he's quick. Quicker than Roland is, but if his practice rounds with Reno have been any indication, he can take it better these days. He'll just have to show Tidus he's gotten better too. Somehow.

Plus, if that fancy sword work isn't going to get Roland's blood pumping, then nothing will. He watches the expert trick, the flick of the wrist that sends his blade dangerously high until he catches it like it was nothing...Impressive, but he's not going to affirm that. Not when he's ready for the fight - spar - himself, a sword emerging from his hammerspace in a similar flash of light. The Cat King's Claw for today, simple and precise. Roland smirks, and readies himself with knees bent, one for support, the other ready to catapult towards Tidus in an instant. Arms raised to the sides of his face, hilt gripped tight. ]

Don't you worry. I've never held back on you and I'm not about to start now. [ No tricks either. Higgledies are kept way back, with instructions made in silence: zero interference. ] You ready for this?

[ Rock 'n roll baby, it's the battle of one-liners - and he dashes forward with all the strength of his left thigh to give him the boost, clashing blades or missing entirely, only to adjust from behind. ]

[ A head-on clash is where Roland can outmatch Tidus with enough wits, be it Tidus's fault he didn't spend his younger life learning to wield the blade than playing sports. But that's exactly where Tidus meets him, his blade as well angled where it needs to be for the grind of metals searching for that advantage. Roland isn't the only guy that's been training, though this isn't a particular dance Tidus wants to stay in. ]

Ha! [ And that's not his objective, jumping back a step and going in for the swing again, and again -- the third time the charm he was aiming for when he brings down the brotherhood's hook end to grab Roland's blade in its teeth, yank it to a side. But he's not looking to disarm him, but to use a brief opening, the access to Roland, and a better weapon of his he knows to control than any sword: himself.

And his two feet coming to together in a jump, slamming out both legs together in a kick directly to the young-old man's chest. How about that, Mister President. ]

[ He's being forced into the defensive, whereas before Tidus would hit him once then fall back, or revert to his tactic of trying to disorient his opponents before hitting them with a time spell. Roland's observed enough training sessions with him to know he seems to be more confident when he has the distance as an upper-hand, versus the proximity Roland expects of close-range combat. But here he's shocked at the quick steps, the sudden tug at his weapon that he definitely doesn't see coming after a flurry of slashes and strikes. No wonder Tidus kept those attacks light; it's only experience that saves Roland from meeting a double kick to the chest, knocking the air out of him had he not angled his body immediately to the side. The motion akin to curling up to the right, so his arm takes the kick...but it's not fast enough. His shoulder becomes collateral damage to, and the force pushes him all the way back, digging his heels into the floor with little traction to stop him from toppling backwards.

Roland winces quietly and shakes it off, brandishing his weapon once to the side before resuming position. Roland ignores the flowering ache that begins to develop in the side that absorbs Tidus's blow, or how he's come to realize he should have just taken that attack by the chest since his arms are now compromised.

Someone's definitely been practicing, and it's dawning on him how serious he has to take this sportsman now. Roland smirks. ]

Not playing around, huh? Good. Me neither.

[ Not to be outdone, he runs towards Tidus already on the offensive just as before. Only now, he attacks with a plan in mind: three, four-slash combos with every move pushing Tidus back against the edge of his blade, each one more decisive than the last, until he sees an opening. That hook of Tidus's sword is dangerous, but Roland meets it head on, using what he thinks is his advantage against him. Angling his blade diagonally, Roland deliberately catches the Claw against the tip of Tidus's sword. Gripping the hilt of his own weapon tighter than ever, Roland grits his teeth and pulls, hopefully dislodging or loosening Tidus's hold on his own weapon from the momentum. ]

[ Feet find the floor easy, and while there's a nudge to his weapon from the blow Roland takes, it's easy for Tidus to keep his weapon without a fight, perhaps missing an opportunity to disarm his opponent. But Tidus takes what he can get, such as the rising adrenaline already in his limbs, the knowledge that Roland wasn't going to go down with a knock like that - but it's good for waking the both of them up.

And indeed, Roland's waking up.

Tidus should expect to get here, and he does: the close-range of two sword-fighters that he's worked hard to learn to answer, at being more decisive about predicting the swing of a blade; where it's likely aiming for, how to respond. Still, he's learning how to answer to further to an offensive attack, and so he's forced back, kept on the defensive, his previous tactic used against him as Roland slides his blade for control of his. When their eyes meet, there's a smile in them; there in the lift of his lips as well, though harder to find in the rows of teeth clenched, more prominent than his mouth.

He thinks, and he needs to think fast--and he plays a gamble this close in, one that relies on Roland's reflexes to recover slower than his.

Because Tidus does conjure an answer for this close in, what he can give. Nothing changes in their blades, but that smile is lost in the shift of his brow coming down, and Roland may realise from other times before it comes: the small burst of air, the harder thrust of Tidus's blade against Roland's that brings the the shock of a stun, but no further than the limbs and hands holding the blade, shorter than even a second. Roland isn't giving him the room for a stronger spell, and Tidus isn't as adept at magic-casting and fighting simultaneously as he deceives; but relying on the stun isn't what he's going for, but the inch he wants to take a mile from it.

That half a second is what Tidus wants to let him use the entire momentum of his body swinging out his blade in a full circle diagonally, a blue blur of energy to strengthen it further.

But there's a few seconds when he's done that Tidus is with his weapon down, trying to recover to a swing of a blade not as strong a slash as it could be - or his fancy circular strike could have been countered, when even with the energy put into the spinning slash, the pressure of Roland's parry absorbed some of his speed, how hard Tidus could switch from defence to offence if he hadn't been pre-occupied before it. ]

[ The thrill of a fight is determined in the way your opponent reacts to what you do. Roland doesn't enjoy fighting per se, but there's an exhilarating feeling of knowing you're being taken seriously, and that every swing of his blade could determine the outcome of the battle. Even in a spar, he wants to take every moment to be better, to learn more, to hone skills that have saved him time and time again. It's this steely resolve that gives him the chance to brace for the counterstrike, his move to disarm not quite meeting the intended goal but showing Roland just enough to predict the formation of magic. He's not pulling punches, and he respects such a determination with his own, absorbing the blow for whatever it hurts him with as his sword takes it in, shakes his arms but otherwise, resists.

He knows the feeling of being stunned. He knows what it's like to feel the full force of one too, where nothing seems to move except the seconds that tick by without him. So this - this wasn't Tidus connecting the spell to his sword. He's pushed back some inches away, but his eyes don't drift, focused and steady on one person in this room and on him alone. The moment presents itself to the patient, and soon enough, Roland is offered a reprieve from Tidus's onslaught. That split second recovery is all he needs to rush, his sword at a horizontal swing but this is where he tests something new.

Where once he would stop at one half-arc, he takes a 180-turn, mimicking the shape of a full moon risen high in the night sky. It's a pivot using the ball of one foot and the momentum of the previous slash, and he does this twice, with the second swing made lower in the hopes that Tidus is caught too unaware that he can't prevent Roland from aiming for his calves to have him fall straight down to the floor.

And should it prove effective, it won't be the tip of Roland's sword that meets Tidus's eye: in a switch quicker than the common eye can see, he would have his pistol out, aimed yet still on safety, his finger off the trigger, though all the same forcing him to a hopeful draw. ]

[ oh what the fuck did you just use his double swing against him there, pal

Because that seems to be what happens, and what does. Tidus doesn't have the time to put his full strength into his block when the first slash comes, but still he tries to put something up. He's pushed back more than he has been before, caught in a place of being aware and yet off-guard, his block not having the strength in it it needs to fully absorb the attack coming at him.

So maybe he got too cocky, playing too close when he's better left for staying out of danger. That'll be his bitter pill to swallow after he's been knocked to the floor, the hard greeting of the floor an old friend for him. Sure, the gun in view above is something entirely new, but Tidus greets it with a familiar expression of exasperation when his eyes open to see it.

A breath releases from his body, his gaze flat. ]

Yeah yeah, death number blah blah blah.

[ It's an inside joke, sometimes mumbled during his training sessions whenever he ends up in this predicament. He's died a lot, you see. ]

I could get out of this.

[ Roland smirks slowly, though to his defense he does try to stop himself from outright grinning. The progress has been delayed somewhat, and the enemies from the last mission didn't do much for him in terms of challenge. But seeing himself in action and actually getting an intended result is astounding in its own right. ]

Oh yeah?

[ And it can only get better from here. Whereas he would usually attempt some small talk, idle chatter as he offers a hand for Tidus to grip onto to stand, today he does neither of these things. Roland continues to stare down at his sparring partner, determination rolling off of him in waves despite the steadiness in his voice, or the caliber of his pistol that remains where it is, arm unmoving. Literally staring down the barrel of a gun. ]

How? Tell me. Show me. I want to know how you would counter this when your enemy is half a second away from the trigger.

[ It's exciting. They're getting better. They're all getting better. ]

Edited 2021-02-20 16:41 (UTC)

000 - voidtreckerexpress Universal Contact Post

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject