Chapter 3

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week IV, Day VII - Week VI, Day VI
Summary: Chapter 3 prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here. Calendar information/dates can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Promises Unmade

Using the increase in unrest, as so many opportunists do, those within the Nine who seek to pursue their own agendas - whether that be family prestige, personal gain, or systematic upheaval - will find bountiful footholds to secure their positions. Land Kendry continues to assert itself as a leader in these troubling times, with Land Derrish falling in tow. Their first target, Land Hyponia, is shaken, careful not to make any mistakes that could crumble the already cracked mortar holding them together with the nobility. Aggressive though Land Derrish may have been, their sights have moved elsewhere, now focusing on driving forward oppressive legislation to replace the Seventh Generation Accords, rather than further eroding the power of Land Hyponia. Kendry is looking to control a functioning oligarchy, not cause a war over the territory that would be up for grabs should Land Hyponia fall. With the announcement of the Seventh Generation accords confirming already widespread rumors, those within the Nine are careful to place blame for the decision on the activities of the Resistance. For many, this is a believable conclusion, as the attacks by the True Leithans shook society at its core on both Westerley and Leith. Being a radical group, their intentions have been conflated with those of the Resistance in the eyes of many. Discourse on the subject isn't uncommon, but any within the Nine who seek a different target of blame best do so quietly, as dissent from within could quickly have one labeled a sympathizer of the unjust cause of the Resistance. On the surface a harmless placating measure taken by the Nine, the new PDDs being distributed through the Quad are touted as the pinnacle of communication technology. While some higher ranking Company officials and members of the nobility may already have access to quick and reliable network connection, these capabilities are now universal with the installation of the Meshwork. The Meshwork will enable all characters to interact in real time via text, video, or voice, but it isn't without side effects. For some reason, characters who frequently use their PDDs or who are in areas of heavily concentrated network use may suffer from headaches, nosebleeds, blurred vision, and/or dizziness, with more severe side effects including temporary blindness, loss of balance, short-term memory loss, and hallucinations. Connection of these symptoms to the PDDs is not the most common diagnosis, as many think the afflictions are a result of the aftershocks of P43X.

The Company: Balancing Act

With clean up from the P43X attack not yet completed, all Company officials should expect to have no singular responsibility, and little time for sleep, as they find the expectations levied upon them to only grow. Frayed nerves can create a hostile working environment, though anyone could be on the receiving end of any outbursts. The streets have returned from their throes of death with new life, but the city's usual clamor is being overtaken by the roar of protest. Some are peaceful demonstrations; some are violent riots, every display a reaction to the repeal of the Seventh Generation Accords. …At least, that’s what it says on paper, the docket that many Company officials receive outlining simple but brutal crowd control and suppression tasks. Whether a bar has been taken over as a hub of dissent, a street corner filled with unmoving protestors, or a Company affiliated storehouse raided, there's plenty to do for those tasked with keeping the peace. You may simply wish to make arrests, or you may welcome the chance to get your hands dirty - the law is on your side, and all voices daring to oppose the order of things need silenced. Those who don't take to the streets will likely find themselves on border control duty, checking the identification and supply dossiers of all incoming and outgoing ships. No one gets in, or out, without the proper clearance. Ship-wide searches have become standard practice, producing storerooms overflowing with contraband. Some may welcome the chance for banal organization, while others may take some 'bonus compensation' for themselves. With the tightening of rules comes the increase of bribery, and Company officials looking to line their pockets will find their opportunities in surplus. Get caught, however, and there's no second-chances. Although the Company audits have concluded, tensions only grow, and anyone found helping those with diverging agendas will be punished swiftly, cast in with the rest of the dissenters.

Westies: Tidal Force

Bereavement weighs heavy in the wake of the P43X attack on Westerley. Burdened by being both the last location of infection and the last to receive medicinal aid, Westies are entrenched in the solemn task of burying their fallen while the merciless machine of the economy marches on. Whether it’s the result of a lost loved one or the continued illness of primary caretakers, the end result is the same: families all across Old Town struggle to feed their children and make ends meet. It’s always been a guiding principle of Westerley—if you can’t work, you can’t eat—but with so many who can do neither, the situation in Old Town begins to grow dire. But there’s hope, albeit in the form of a double-edged blade: with the newly distributed PDDs and Meshwork installation, nonprofit organizations are able to conduct themselves on a wider scale, drawing in more donors from outside of Westerley. While their efforts are ultimately but a drop in the ocean, the renewed spirit of community and altruism provides relief—as well as nourishment—for many who might very well die without it. That same tool which allows the people to come together is also used to rend it; rumors begin to circulate through encrypted bulletins about the emergency meeting held on (Week IV, Day VII). Some of the rumors are wild speculation and fanciful daydreams, but in the mire of them, a grain of truth slips through. The Accords have fallen, they say. Be ready. Most people disregard the rumors, writing them off as the idle machinations of conspiracy theorists. They cling to their hope that soon their children will walk a planet that is bountiful in food and sunshine, that the land promised on Leith will deliver them from the hell they current endure. It’s those people who shout the loudest when the official announcement confirms the rumor. The Accords have been repealed. (Week V, Day III) At first, protestors gather in small, grumbling groups, little more than angry drunks. But as more and more people take to the Meshwork, the wrath of the few awakens the desperation of the many, and over the course of the night, the peaceful protest swells into an unruly riot. Workers strike, but without any legal protection, they swiftly find themselves rebuked by unemployment. Now with nothing to lose and everything to gain, the riots expand, filling the streets of Old Town with anger and tension. Company personnel become popular targets, and within the next day, all travel permits to and from Westerley are temporarily revoked. The moon closes its docks in an attempt to smother the flames of the rebellion. What starts as a movement for change shifts into a violent cataclysm, homes and businesses burned down, families torn apart by dissent within and outside of themselves. The Company seems content to let Old Town destroy itself, to let them “get it out of their system”, but all too soon that stance changes as well. With the death of a distant cousin of the Derrish, Company orders shift. Lethal force is authorized, and all too eagerly, used. Once the death toll begins to climb, the protests decline. The riots soften, though they do not disappear outright. Company and Westie optimists take to podiums in a desperate attempt to bid their fellow compatriots once more into peace. But something else awakens in the fires of those riots. Something far more dangerous than the chaos of anger: something controlled, methodical. They call themselves Hyperion, and they are the new faces of the Resistance.

True Leithians: Rested Laurels

For this faction, the time to scatter is nigh. Their work is complete: the Accords are no more, and the militant leaders order the reintegration of their soldiers into civilian life. Leith’s rightful owners retain the precious land that was once threatened, and although their methods were extreme, they are justified by the end result. But while the True Leithians see this as only a rested pause in their work, their benefactors—those who provided the resource and information that allowed their wicked deeds to see fruition—see this time as the closing of a chapter. Loose ends that might later lead to Qreshi officials or even potentially the Nine themselves are dealt with severely and harshly, albeit quietly. Several prominent figures of Leith’s highest echelon of society simply disappear, and curiously, those around them don’t seem to remember that they were ever there in the first place. Their benefactors are not the only group that would see the True Leithians burn. Among the first wave of missions delegated beneath the Resistance is the assassination of known True Leithian sympathizers. Unlike the Company, the members of Hyperion are ordered to perform their tasks loudly, to send a message written in the blood of the True Leithians. The citizens of Westerley will no longer be the gutless pawns of the Quad. They will strike back, and they will uncover the source of the True Leithian’s funding and information. If the True Leithians thought themselves ruthless, they’ll soon learn a new measure of savagery when Hyperion converges on their trail.

Leith: Olive Branch

The atmosphere of Leith is one of both hope and mourning. Recovery on Leith proceeds more efficiently than that on Westerley, their infrastructure and resources better able to accommodate those that were felled in the P43X attack. But although agency has the streets of Leith cleaner and the surfaces shining, the spirit of the moon itself suffers a devastating blow in the wake of the attack, the people of Leith unprepared and unseasoned to deal with the psychological ramifications of so much death. But they are not yet hardened by the experience, drawing together in the spirit of cooperation to restore not just the physical aspects of their homes, but the mental fortitude of their people. Charity drives and galas proceed in extravagant fashion, as if by the display of their assets they might rebel against the somber circumstances on which they’re hosted. For most on Leith, the fall of the Accords arrives as welcomed news, the citizens of the moon long since opposed to sharing their land with those of Westerley. But although the sense of satisfaction with the ends is high, there’s also an undercurrent of regret for the means which provided it. Unlike the True Leithians, most of the citizens of Leith are not radical or extreme, and they offer their sympathies—but only their sympathies—to those Westies in their midst. News of the riots results in tighter security around the Westies still stationed on the moon, and for the days that the violent storm on Westerley builds, Leith in turn becomes markedly quieter and more conscientious. Moderates come together over the Meshwork and propose a Peace Summit, a meeting of both delegation and charity, once the riots and dangers of traveling have passed. The summit is sanctioned by Leithian officials, as well as the allocation of surplus resources to aid their sister moon in her recovery. While many citizens of Leith eagerly await the news of lands once lost to their families for the Accords, many more donate their time and hands as part of the newly created Good Will Corps, a coalition of both political pundits and regular people devoted to strengthening the connection between the moons rather than sowing division. Volunteers—and some individuals who are voluntold, join the Good Will Corps on a trip to Old Town where the Peace Summit is scheduled (Week VI, Day III), lending their time, their labor, and their technology as a gesture of good faith. But whether or not that’s sufficient to see the Peace Summit garner any steps towards system stability is another matter altogether.

Resistance: Sacred Grove

The people of the Quad barely have time to remove the packaging from their new PDDs before a new voice of dissent begins to worm its way down the feed. Encrypted messages, quick flashes of imagery begin appearing at random on open networks and closed channels alike, pitting the harsh realities of the suffering, suffocating Westerley against the excess and decadence on display by both Leithians and the Nine, showcasing the disparity in the starkest of lights. All of it aimed at one purpose, to spread one solemn truth: the branches of the Mother Tree are burning… and the Nine seem to be holding the matches. The name whispered, the one goading dissent, echoes through the Quad - Hyperion - followed slowly with the murmur of hope. Of an intellect so profound that not even the Nine themselves will be able to stop it. With an artful ease, this new force begins to reach out, to commandeer the discordant efforts of the Resistance and reforge it into something stronger, faster. Deadlier. It starts with a select few receiving instructions directing them to safe houses already stocked with equipment and supplies, each with tech tailored to that cell's purpose and loaded with dossiers far too complete to have been compiled by the average citizen. Some of the background information appears to come directly from the records of the Company, or the Nine themselves, while still more from planets outside the Quad. Some even hint at records long since sealed by the RAC. Nothing points to one faction over another. Nothing reveals the how or why this Hyperion has decided to play these particular cards now, but one thing is quite clear. There's a deep laid plan being set into motion, and neither the Company or the Nine will see it coming. All these leaders have to do is gather their forces...

The RAC: New Grade

The citizens of the Quad were not the only ones affected by the P43X - the upper ranks of the RAC's field agents is notably thinner - and with tensions shifting yet again between the moons, they cannot afford to be ill-prepared and understaffed. In order to bolster their ranks, the decision comes down the pipe of a new assessment system: Peer Evaluations. Many of those that have been in their current ranks - those between Levels I - III - will be eligible to receive a two-part assessment of their capabilities to operate efficiently at the next level through successful completion of live warrants. These field evaluations can be conducted by any Level IV agent and turned into Central Command for compilation and rank change approval. Unlike the lower level agents, Level IV assessments will still be conducted by RAC's Central Command, once all of the subordinate assessments have been completed and processed. These agents should take note - part of their own evaluations for Level V will be the efficiency with which they're able to evaluate those below them. During this time, warrants will still flow in and agents sent to answer - especially once the travel bans go into effect on Westerley, as those agents alone bearing active warrants will be able to enter and leave the atmosphere, though their docking point will be limited to the Prisoner Intake facilities.

Comments

Saber | Mixed Bag OTA, Closed below.

[iuramentum]

W4D7 ||

[ It's business as usual.

Or rather, post-business as usual. The nice thing about some low level warrants is that they're either exceptionally quick but heavily detail oriented, or slow and measured in approach but mind-numbingly easy.
Today's been one of the former sort of warrants - leaving Saber ultimately to her own devices until the next set of orders comes down the pipe.

Which might be why she's found herself in the shopping district, looking somewhat lost and overwhelmed.

Where the hell is the gloves section???? ]

W5D5 ||

[ So, as it turns out, getting shot in the back hurts like hell a lot later than you'd think. Ignoring it had been easier immediately after it had been inflicted.

Having got some safe distance from the chaos of the riots and the possibility of being jumped a second time, Saber can be found in a sheltered area behind the main thoroughfare, conveniently tucked out of direct view but still with plenty of escape routes to choose from. It would be a great place to hide considering the camouflage a black suit can offer.

The dove grey of her shirt, however, is a little less so. Even if the black patch slowly spreading from her shoulder does a valiant job of trying to mimic her outer layers. Blood as tactical camouflage. Hella metal, or hella metal?

TL;DR she may or may not have taken a bullet in the shoulder, and she's having a hell of a time trying to assess the damage. So far the diagnosis is Not Good considering the small pack of medical supplies she had is long gone by now - distributed to civilians that had been injured during the riots.
That's not stopping Saber from gritting her teeth and fishing around blindly with one hand to see if she can dig out the bullet. It's not going so well. ]

WILD CARD ||

[ Gimme all your ideas, scrub! ]

w5d5

[tropism]

[ he'd thought he'd seen her. the swell of people and the din of their voices made it difficult to track her down, but giorno persisted and was rewarded with tracking her route behind the main thoroughfare. the price was a broken arm and a cracked skull, though none of it his own: anyone who tries to stop him or got in his way as he made his way towards saber was summarily disposed of. giorno has no time to stop for frivolities, repeal or not.

giorno steps into her view quietly. ]

Saber. That looks terrible.

[iuramentum]

[ The reaction is entirely automatic. Compromised. Danger.
Saber's sword sings against the sheath at her side as she immediately shifts her stance, drawing the blade in one smooth motion, pivoting, full extension from shoulder to elbow to wrist --

-- and halts with the tip levelled somewhere around Giorno's chest, should he have continued to approach rather than stop at a safe distance. That's generally the neatest solution to unexpected attack. You know the saying... "the fastest way to a man's heart is through the fourth and fifth rib", right?
Anyway. There's plenty of room between them for her to process just who he is, that he clearly isn't a threat, and her raised arm drops back to her side with a rigidity that speaks volumes about how she's refusing to let herself show weakness. ]

It looks worse than it is. [ She tilts her head slightly downwards while sheathing Excalibur. ] My apologies. You startled me.

[tropism]

It's fine.

[ any other person, he'd be a bit miffed at the reception, but saber has always been like this and anyway, giorno trusts her to be cautious, especially now. he moves closer to her as soon as excalibur's out of the way. ] I saw you somewhere in the crowd and I figured I should follow - they've been very unpredictable since the repeal.

Let me see? [ he gestures at her wound. if it's not as bad as she says it is, then he might be able to help. ]

[iuramentum]

With good reason.

[ She can't blame the public for lashing out, really, when peaceful means haven't garnered any response.
As for her new companion, she sighs and turns slightly so he faces her injured shoulder. ]

The bullet is lodged too deeply to remove without a kit.

- BADOU | W4D7

[iuramentum]

[ Lurking around the nooks and crannies of the darker corners of the worlds is part and parcel with being an RAC agent. In all honesty, she's staking out the general area for a... uh... "fugitive" that skipped out on their lunch bill.

(They ordered a glass of water and ate two baskets of complimentary bread sticks. Shocking.)

Imagine her surprise when she spots a certain someone doing whatever it is he does - aside from annoying the general populace - on a daily basis. Saber immediately changes course, making a beeline straight for Badou with a grim quality to the set of her shoulders.
Cue Jaws theme ]

[brokeassgoing]

[He has no superpowers or special training whatsoever, but he does have a bad feeling. Maybe that's why he isn't so startled when he sees her-- just braces himself, shoulders set, mouth a grim line.

Badou doesn't turn tail and run but he sort of wants to.
But she doesn't seem to be speeding up to attack either.]

Well, well, well, Chuckles. Fancy seeing you down here.

[iuramentum]

[ The first thing she does is raise both hands to shoulder height, palms outward, in the universal sign of "I come in peace". Never you mind that she doesn't really need a weapon to do serious damage. That's not the point here.

After reaching what she deems a reasonable distance for conversation without being uncomfortably close, she lets her arms drop to her sides. ]

I'm here for unrelated reasons, but I do have a question for you. [ A brief glance down at his fingers, then back up again, expression unreadable. ] Do your hands have any lasting injuries?

[ Yes, she is in fact checking to make sure she didn't actually hurt him without meaning to. It might actually be a touching (HA HA) gesture if not for her usual stiff-necked demeanour making things all awkward. ]

[brokeassgoing]

[her question doesn't register for a couple of seconds. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, as they say. When he tilts his head, he just says:]

...Are you taking the piss?

[but he does raise his hands, slowly, and wiggles his fingers. Just as slowly. They bruised and all, but nothing broke.]

[iuramentum]

[ Blank look. Whatever are you talking about, clearly she's just concerned for your well-being!!!!
Also joking is pretty much beyond her, so. Safe to say taking the piss is not in the cards today.

She studies his hand for a moment, decides she needs a better look, and promptly steps in while reaching out with the intent to snag his wrist herself. ]

I'm quite serious. No fracturing, no joint damage, no broken bones?

[ I mean, there's not really much she can do about it if the answer is 'yeah, you frickin ruined my hand thanks', but it's the thought that counts, right????? ]

- GIOVANNI | W5D5

[iuramentum]

[ It's absolute bedlam on the streets. Broken glass, all brittle, sharp edges. Smoke. Fire. Screams and curses.

And people. A literal sea of bodies.
Some rioters, some not, almost all of them frightened and lashing out at those around them in the instinctual response of a terrified animal. More than a few innocents have been injured by their peers rather than the Enforcers descending on them en masse.

Saber's chosen to spend her time directing foot traffic away from the worst areas, shepherding her charges through the maze of side streets and alleys as quickly as she can without sacrificing order. Not all have chosen to trust a stranger in a suit, but it helps a little that she remains utterly calm regardless of the reactions her presence garners; deliberately choosing not to openly bear arms helps a little when talking down the occasional belligerent man or woman from their adrenaline high.
It's not much, but becoming the rock in the proverbial storm helps to ground some of the civilians from panic, and for now that must be enough.

Currently, Saber stands above the crowd thanks to the fallen concrete barrier she's used as a perch, keeping an eye on the bottleneck forming at the mouth of the alley between a mechanic's shop and the smouldering ruins of what may have once been a modest restaurant. She clearly expects the Enforcers to be approaching from behind the crowd, driving them forward, not for certain outliers to circle around and approach from the flank. ]

[ofobedience]

[Speaking of animals and outliers-- Giovanni's approach to the riots, it's an entirely different thing. The order had gone through to quell the disturbance through any means necessary, he'd been called in, set loose of his leash, and that can only ever mean one thing. What he means to deliver here today, it's carnage.

He's already smeared in blood, wears it like a mask across his face, painting teeth and hair and arms from the tips of his fingers to elbows, rust-stained and brutal and full of the manic energy that so frequently punctuates his kind, makes them what they are. Rabid dogs, barely controlled. Savage hounds of war.

She may notice the screaming first, voices ringing out loud as the terrible Company pet steps into their midst and yes he intends to gun them down to tear them apart with hands and teeth but first-- well. First he's spotted an altogether different kind of prey.

She has her back to him, for the moment, and it takes no more than a fluid spit second for him to lock her in his sights to raise the gun to pull the trigger bang it rings out sharp and loud and Giovanni, his face is full of sly-eyed animal glee. Looks up at her, calls out as the bullet goes in, mere moments before he turns his guns on the crowd.]

Oh dear. My mistake.

[iuramentum]

[ The noise startles Saber more than getting shot. It's a little like getting punched in the back, hard, the shunt of kinetic energy almost enough to knock her off her perch.
As it is she stumbles for a moment, rights herself, pivots to pin Giovanni with a stare so loaded with threat it's a miracle he doesn't go up in flames right then and there.

The hilt (and by extension, the sword itself) at her side blinks out of view as she draws in one fluid motion - thumbing the invisibility caplet nestled in the pommel - the motion punctuated by the hiss of metal on metal; an auditory clue practically drowned in the uproar of panicked civilians trying desperately to get out of the line of fire. ]

You again. [ Saber has to raise her voice to be heard over the din; resonant with steely command. She resolutely ignores the dull ache in her left shoulder and the sensation of her shirt sticking to the wound - if it's bleeding, it's not enough to be a priority. Not yet. ] You aren't authorized to be in this sector.

[ Not without his handler, at any rate, which they both know very well.

She hops down, placing herself directly between the bulk of the crowd still striving to escape and his guns, both hands fisted at her sides. It could be seen as practically painting a bullseye on her chest, of course, if he doesn't look too closely at her right hand, curled loosely around something that distorts the fingers around it ever so slightly.

"Self-defense" will be acceptable excuse for bloodying his nose a little when her superiors want an explanation. He doesn't need two legs and two arms, right? ]

[ofobedience]

[Two legs and two arms that would soon grow back even if she chose to lop them off, but it'd take him a few hours, would cause a lot of pain, and there are still things here he wants to do, people to kill, you know the drill. It's tempting nonetheless, having her standing there in front of him and presenting such an easy target, all it'd take is a little click, the flick of his fingers against the triggers. Who would miss her? Would anyone care? His Company masters certainly wouldn't begrudge him the death of someone who's been cast aside, joined up with the RAC no less.

It's all there in him, the jump of the muscles beneath his skin, a hard light in his eyes more animal than man and yes he's given his Handler the slip, lost amidst the chaos and confusion of the riots, but it hardly matters right now. There's no one here to bring him to heel.

His smile, it's wide and serrated and raw.]

Silly me. Just a little lost dog. But my orders are to bring the herd under control by any means necessary, they didn't specify where I ought to be.

[The guns are still raised, pointed at her chest, head tilted quizzically to one side.]

Are you planning to interfere with Company orders?

[iuramentum]

[ If leaving herself open to attack is so very tempting, good. Better to keep his attention trained on the one person capable of defending themselves rather than the civilians at her back.

Saber's green eyes shine eerily in the firelight. She does not return his smile. ]

I will not permit you to run wild, cur. Not here. [ Her chin lifts just a touch, enough to make it clear she is symbolically looking down at him with the utmost disdain. It doesn't occur to her, exactly, why she's doing so, but what she does know is that there are those weaker and more frightened than she in need of protecting.

A glance over her shoulder - mindful to keep the grinning, bloodied man within sight - reveals most of the civilians have managed to funnel into the alley, with only a few remaining stragglers due to injury or age still slowly making their escape. The few that have fallen don't move, trampled to death by their peers.

Of what worth is a king who fails to protect the powerless? A whisper, maybe an echo, asks the question, sparking an achingly familiar wave of resolve to firm the set of her shoulders as she looks back at Gio. She clearly doesn't plan to let him pass. ]

Heel back to your master. These few are beyond your reach.

- LAVI | W5D1

[iuramentum]

[ So. Promotions.

Pretty serious business, for someone that's heartily sick and tired of the petty warrants taking up most of their day. There's only so many times that being told to do various feats of utmost stupidity retains even the slimmest amount of entertainment.

Therefore, Saber's made the Executive Decision™ to kick it up a notch and train day in and day out to make absolutely sure she's in peak condition. Strength training? Check. Endurance? Check. Weapon handling? LOCKED. DOWN.
Suffice it to say she's expecting more of the same from Lavi, since he's so very graciously offered to help her out. What a nice guy, right?

Moral support would work too though. God knows she needs all the support she can get. ]

[inksplashes]

[ While Saber seems ready for the direst of physical challenges, Lavi looks more like someone who's been summoned from their daily nap much too early. Hair half mashed flat against his head and the imprint of some hard-edged surface left on his cheek, he blinks sheepishly at her arrival in Noah's cargo hold, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes.

He hasn't forgotten why she's here, not at all, but he has a propensity to sleep whenever time is available, and that's been in rather short supply.

(Or so he would say, ignoring the fact he spent much of his illness bedridden. It doesn't count if you don't mean to sleep.)

Lavi stands, waves a hand over his head. Beside him, a table with a very old plank of checkered wood is waiting. (If one were to compare the imprint on his face to the angle of the chessboard, it would indeed become obvious just what surface he's slept on.) ]

H-hey! You're here, uh.

[ Glances at his PDD. ]

..Exactly on time!

[iuramentum]

[ ....really, Lavi.

Saber somehow manages to radiate faint disapproval despite not moving an inch or changing her expression, although the crossed arms over her chest does help to enhance the effect somewhat. ]

Should I come back later?

[ Seeing as he's clearly in no shape for a spar... ]

[inksplashes]

[ Lavi weathers that look with the usual grin and shrug routine, as used to dealing with women (and men, really) quietly reeking of disapproval as he is to waking up on chessboards.

Which is to say both happen more than he'd like.

Sitting back down, the redhead stifles a yawn behind a long hand, shaking his head softly as he wears off the blurriness of sleep. He flips a small box beside the board open with a single digit, blearily peering into its depths while his other hand waves her forward. ]

Nah, c'mon. We can start when you're ready. Black or white?

[iuramentum]

[ Lavi gets a stare. Half concern, half resigned. ]

White is acceptable.

[ She seats herself without much fanfare, neatly folding her hands in her lap, and surveys the playing board with some puzzlement. ]

We're just playing chess?

- KANDA | W5D1

[iuramentum]

[ OKAY TIME TO GET SERIOUS

As in - expecting a pretty good spar, Saber's spent a decent amount of time warming up with basic exercises and sword forms, outfitted in a pair of exercise slacks and a tank top (the former, black, the latter, grey - all regulation, of course). Kanda may or may not be the subject of some rumors around the lower echelon of the RAC agents.

Not all of them are complimentary, but you know how it is.

Having decided she's ready for whatever it is that can be thrown at her, Saber's settled in to a kneeling position squarely in the center of one of the exercise mats, Excalibur laid on the floor at her side.

bring it on, scrub. ]

[lotusmesenpai]

[All of those rumors true, most like. Because for all that his team has never failed a warrant, Kanda's crassly blunt reputation is quite well earned.

Similarly dressed, though all black for this one, the bold lines of his scar tattoo curling around his shoulder, wreathing his upper arm with the stark design.

Stepping into their training room, Kanda pauses after crossing to stand before her, hand resting lightly against the hilt of the sword worn once more at his hip.

Mugen, no longer relegated to adorning his wall, once more there as an extension of himself.]

Blinking, the faint hint of a scowl already settling into place, Kanda arches a brow down at her.]

Unless you intend to start all fights at a disadvantage, on your feet, Saber. Draw your sword - and don't make the dumbass mistake of holding back. I might kill you, if you try.

[It's rare that Kanda is willing to work with the younger ranks, but this one has... potential. If she lives long enough to see it to fruition. This then, a way to test that assessment.]

[iuramentum]

[ She reacts to neither his coarseness nor the threat. Partially since it takes a lot more than that to get her well and truly riled up, and partially because showing so blatant a weakness is just asking to get her ass handed to her.

Instead, she nods once, placidly, and rises, moving back a few paces to mirror Kanda's position on the opposite side of their new sparring ring, her grip on Excalibur loose. Relaxed. ]

I wouldn't offer so grave an insult. [ Please. She's not some snot-nosed recruit, Kanda. You hardly even need to bring up the rules. ] To first blood, or until one party yields?

[ If it's the latter, there's a preeeeeeeeeetty good chance things are going to get kind of bloody. She's stubborn as hell, and if the rumours are to be believed, so is he.
Saber's so excited at the prospect of a challenge you have no idea

She settles into a ready position without much thought; Excalibur angled upwards, steadied against the palm of her left hand, extended in preparation for the courtesy 'tap' that would signal the start of the bout. Slightly turned to offer a smaller target, dominant foot forward.

Arguably she should consider using one of her invisibility caps against a heretofore unknown opponent of some skill, but hiding even the smallest advantage is so... unseemly. Unworthy. Something inside her recoils violently at even entertaining the thought.
No, just plain swordsmanship today. A level playing field, as it were. ]

[lotusmesenpai]

[Quietly, Kanda watches the woman settle into a ready stance, his eye critical, gaze sharp. As she does so, he turns over her seemingly simple question – because, for his part, it’s not so simple. Someone with his level of enhancement doesn’t have the luxury of letting lose all restrictions during training.

And honestly – official RAC records on their agents don’t exactly portray an accurate picture all the times. Sometimes they’re not privy to the information and sometimes they actively bury it, so while he’s able to look at her basic profile and proficiency assessments to date…

There’s not a lot to indicate he can go at her full force without causing harm.

So, for now, he’ll be the responsible one, even if he does so with a smirk and a shift to hold his sword low, grip firm and ready.]

First blood per round. The idea is to hone skill, not mindlessly brawl… for now. So when you’re ready – come. I’ll defend, to determine your current level.

[iuramentum]

Very well. [ Saber smiles, thinly - one of the rare ones that does miraculously reach her eyes - raising her blade level with her shoulder and tightening her grip. ] En garde.

[ He might not plan to go full force, but she certainly does. Her stance drops lower, giving her a solid foundation to launch herself forwards with surprising speed, apparently unconcerned that charging in a straight line is kind of super blatantly obvious.

But then again, that rising diagonal slash has every ounce of her nanite-enhanced strength and speed thrown behind it. Taking her somewhat seriously is probably within Kanda's best interests for the time being. ]