(2016-12-03) Sparring Intentions
Sparring Intentions
Summary: Besa and Whitley spar. It's awkward
Date: IC Date (2016-12-05)
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://coralsprings.wikidot.com/logtitle)
NPCs: Players go below, other chars that deserve mention can be listed here
Scene Runner: Who ran this scene, NA if no-one or mutual
Players:
besa..whitley..

Gym Coral Springs


A massive dome overhead is completely revealing of the ocean above it. This is a full size gym, with basketball hoops along the walls ready for play. Ropes hanging from a secion of that dome ceiling ready to be climbed are tied off to not impede on gym floor activity. Excersize equipment and weights are off to the far end. At anytime the floor can be sectioned off for multiple team games to be played if needed. There are locker rooms for girls and boys to one side and opposite this are wooden bleachers that can be pulled out if needed for spectators. Opposite the bleachers there is a rock climbing wall, that goes right up to the dome itself overhead.


After the crappy day Besa's had, the invitation to throw punches is welcome. So here he is, decked out in his gym wear and hair pulled back into a pony tail. The Egyptian teen is stretching, trying to keep his back straight as he does. There's a new bandied on his left arm, like blood has been drawn again. Friday night is finding the gym very empty besides the two sparring partners.

Whitley comes in a few minutes after Besa, he had to return to his dorm to get changed and bring his gym gear which pretty much consists of just a water bottle (no stabbing, so no katana). He's in shorts and a white tee, his sneakers are discarded as he enters the gym. In his hands is a roll of athletic tape. A glance is given to Besa's new band-aid, and although he does frown, there's no comment. He holds out the roll for Besa. "Here. In case, you wanna punch something again." Hopefully, it won't be him.

Besa's hand goes out to take the tape, "Thank you? …But I do not know how to wrap my hands with it." Ironically says the mummy boy. "Should i take off my shoes? I was not sure what was needed." He didn't bring a water bottle, but does have a towel. The frown to his arm is ignored, but he does turn slight so the view of it is blocked.

Whitley takes the other's boy hand and starts by looping the thumb, then wrapping behind his hand. A few times over the wrist, then over the hand again. Between the fingers and around the knuckles too. It goes by pretty quickly, so Whit grabs Besa's other hand and starts again, slowly, looking at Besa to make sure he's paying attention. "I usually don't wear them for spars, but do whatever is more comfortable." The sophomore shrugs his slim shoulders. "If you plan on kicking me, then take off your shoes." He flashes a grin. "Also, how much practice do you have with fighting…" A pause. "Or how much of it do you remember?" Whitley did notice the form Besa jumped in when he snuck up on him so long ago.

Besa's hand are strangely soft, maybe from all the clay he messes around with. The boy stills, letting Whitley wrap his hands, dark eyes watching the process intently. "I always prefer no shoes…" As soon as Whit's done with the tape, off come Besa's shoes. "Now if only we were on sand!" Oh, how he misses sand! The pony tail sways as he shakes his head, "No…I am not planning on kicking you." But the small smile indicates if it comes up, he might! The questions though have his smiles dropping, "I remember…flashes, sometimes. But I can concentrate and try to remember, if you'd like?"

Whitley tosses the rest of the roll to the side and steps over to the sparring mat. He begins warming up with a series of smooth tai chi motions. His grey eyes are still on Besa as he does his stretches. "It's pretty cold out. Otherwise, I would've suggested it." His shoulders rise again gently as to not disrupt his movements. "If you want, I could try to teach you some of what I know, but a spar would probably be better if you've got some experience." A sly smile tugs on his lips. "I'll be gentle either way."

Besa understands, he likes being warm more than he misses sand. Dark eyes roll, sometimes he is a typical teenager, but then he takes a deep breath and concentrates. His eyelids drop, and he straightens, it's very Besa and not at the same time. He stays like that for a few moments before nodding to himself and looking at Whitley, "I am ready."

Whitley sorta just freezes when he sees Besa 'concentrating'. He stares at the other boy, a small smile slowly forming on his lips. When the Egyptian's eyes open and he says he's ready, Whit can't help but laugh a little. "Okay then, bring it on." He eases into a simple stance, feet shoulder width apart for easy movement and elbows tucked. There's a small gesture to encourage Besa to attack.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Success Besa: Good Success
< Net Result: Besa wins - Marginal Victory

Besa frowns softly, unsure what's funny. But he's gestured to, so he moves. It's not to a strike though, he moves to grapple. Wrestling is what he tapped into, so here he is, hands grabbing Whitley and a leg behind his. It's not enough to topple him, but he's up against Whitley now, ready to push him over.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Success Besa: Success
< Net Result: DRAW

That smirk dissolves into a slight frown when Besa starts grappling Whitley. It's not something he's familiar with. In fact, fighting against targets that know he's around isn't really something he did much in his past. Despite this, he tries to accommodate. He counters one of Besa's arms by locking up his wrist, then twists and drops low to throw the thinner boy over his shoulder, a Judo classic. However, he drops a little too low, leaving plenty of room for an escape.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Success Besa: Good Success
< Net Result: Besa wins - Marginal Victory

Besa grunts, the teen lets Whit start to toss him, but then counters in a spider monkey like move. He's not got the weight to throw Whit, or the momentum, but he's now on the blonde's back. He pauses briefly, arms around Whit, and he laughs, "Am I being too gentle?" Wrestling was always fun, as long as no one gets mad.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=phasing Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Great Success Besa: Good Success
< Net Result: Whitley wins - Marginal Victory

"Well, I'm still moving," Even with the lightheartedness, Whitley struggles with Besa being on his back. He's still trying to throw him off, and his words leave his mouth through gritted teeth. "So yeah." Back home, they fought until bones were broken, so it takes a while for Whit to lighten up. But he does, and that grin is back. Without warning, his body isn't there and Besa passes through his shifting molecules. That usually gets people, and Whitley figures Besa's no different.

Like a bullet, he lunges forward, legs hooking around Besa's as he collides into the younger boy and forces him back into the mat with a thud. Before giving Besa a second to react, Whitley's right hand is already out, pinning his wrists together behind his head. He clucks his tongue in a disapproving manner and waggles his finger. "Never underestimate your opponent." But it's all in good fun, he's laughing now.

Besa lets out a yelp, startled by the sudden going though he does. A second grunt escapes him when he's slammed onto the mat, eyes wide as he looks up at Whitley. Several locks of hair have escaped the tie and are now fanning out around Besa's head like a halo, one brushing against the Ares hand. A blink and then Besa says, "I did not know you could do that. Is that…part of your mind stuff?" He seems more impressed than anything else. The laugh though gets him smiling up at the older boy, he had some fear that Whit would lose control.

Whitley grins back down at the Egyptian. His grip on Besa's wrist loosens a tad just to show that he didn't go berserk, and he shakes his head. "I don't think. It's a family thing," Technically, it could be some passive telekinesis at work, but Whit's not too sure about that. "My dad could do it, and my grandmother before him could too." The Masters aren't the only family line with an extensive history, it would seem. He pokes Besa on the chest. Lightly. "I really got you, didn't I?"

Besa grins up at him, not upset at all with losing. A small head nod, "I did not expect that at all." His fingers twitch lightly, but he doesn't move from the position he's in, instead waiting to see what Whitley wants. They can spar more, or talk. or…whatever it is they do in this odd, odd friendship they have. "Have you always been able to do that?"

Whitley doesn't really mind where things go, but he does release Besa's wrists. He's still on top of the younger boy though. "Nope. They sorta kicked in when I was twelve. Where most kids had acne or body hair in weird places, us Kings had ghost powers and…" There's a vague gesture to his head. Whether he's referring to his mind powers or the white hair, who knows.

Besa's head tilts, studying the body above him. "That must have been shocking, even if you knew it was coming." He asks, "Is that when you got the rest of your powers?" His arms loosen , but mostly say above his head.

"Yeah, there were a few embarrassing situations where I couldn't keep my clothes on," With a chuckle, Whitley rolls off of Besa and lays flat on his back beside him. "Yep. They were more of a surprise. Telepathy and telekinesis are waning powers in our bloodline." He turns his head sideways, the side of his face against the mat, to look at Besa. "Would you like to continue?"

Besa's eyes widen and then he laughs. "That must have been funny." He's head rolls as well to look at Whitley, "What powers did you think you would have?" There's a pause while he thinks and then he nods, "We can, if you would like?"

Whitley smiles warmly when Besa laughs. "I don't know. Anything else would've been cool, really. Phasing was a given. If I didn't inherit that much at least, my dad would've been pissed." Whit shrugs as best as he can for someone who's on the floor. "I don't mind either way. I like talking to you…" He skillfully leaves out the fact that he likes being on top of the other boy too. "And, well, I've been fighting for all my life. It's fun to just kick back and admire the scenery." A pause. "On the other hand, we did come here to train…" He lets his words trail, leaving room for Besa to make that decision.

Besa's smile fades some, a father being mad about something like seems awful. Large dark eyes blink, but then the smile returns, "Let us practice another bout, then we can talk more?" Or maybe talk during the fight? He grins, "I will not do runes."

"Sure," In an effortless kick up, Whitley goes from being prone to standing. He settles into an easy stance again, bouncing on the soles of his feet a bit. "Then, I won't phase this time." He's ready to rumble!

Besa's doesn't kick up fancy like. He just rolls onto a knee and then stands. He chuckles, straightening his goth tee shirt, "That seems fair." His shoulders roll, and then his hands come up defensively.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Great Success Besa: Good Success
< Net Result: Whitley wins - Marginal Victory

A little smirk as Whitley steps in to attack. There's a high right hook, then an uppercut from the left. Careful but quick, figuring if he can overwhelm the smaller boy with speedy motions and hits, then Besa can't get up against him again and make him all flustered. "How quickly can you activate those runes?" Whitley asks, making idle conversation while they fight. His strikes aren't meant to truly harm or injury, this is a spar after all. He's letting Besa practice parrying or blocking…but he's not making it easy for him either.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Good Success Besa: Success
< Net Result: Whitley wins - Solid Victory

Besa tries, he really does, but even when he was in his past lives, he never won all that often. He gets hit way more then he manages to dodge or block and he advertises the grapple hold he attempts and fails to get. Maybe he's tired himself out already? Either way, a soft laugh, "I have them set….as soon as I break them, they go off…"

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Good Success Besa: Success
< Net Result: Whitley wins - Marginal Victory

Whitley's smirk still holds on his face, it even grows more assured. He might have been getting a little worried there. "Oh? So they don't last for long?" Odd. The white-haired student doesn't get all the voodoo stuff! Anyway, back to the fight. Whit's getting cocky, and he steps back, just enough to plant his body and twist his hips, launching a side kick at Besa's midsection.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Success Besa: Success
< Net Result: Besa wins - Marginal Victory

Besa frowns slightly as he's basically getting his butt handed to him. He has just wanted to not embarrass himself. "They….do…I can have more than…one…active." The kick lands solidly, knocking some of the air from him and he staggers slightly. Knowing his only chance to do anything in the spar is to get close, he ducks and grapples at Whit's midsection. He grabs him, not that he's able to go anything once he's got his hands on his sides.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Whitley=physical Vs Besa=wrestling+2
< Whitley: Great Success Besa: Success
< Net Result: Whitley wins - Solid Victory

Ugh. More grabbing. Whitley's face flushes with Besa's hand on him. It's not enough for him to lose focus, but enough that Besa does manage to get a good hold on him. A knee rises in protest, aimed for the Egyptian's gut, not his face. He follows it up with another blow, both his hands snapping down at Besa's back in a motion that is meant to force the boy to the floor. Again.

A grunt from the knee and then Besa drops to the floor, again, when his back is struck. He loses his grip on Whitley, he can't even keep hold of the older boy's shirt. He's not quite flat on his face, he lands on his knees and one hand, but he's definitely compromised in the position. One hand raises up towards his chest.

Whitley looks pleased with himself. At first. Then Besa's on the floor, and that smirk fades away. He kneels down, slowly, so can look at Besa's face. "Hey, you okay?" A sheepish hand rubs the back of his head. "I tend to get carried away." He tries to smile, but there's some worry in his eyes.

Besa didn't seem to realize he was reaching to rub his chest, embarrassed his hand drops and he forces a nod, "Yes. I am fine. thank you for asking." Always so polite! "it is not you. I am…out of practice." And Whitley is just much better than he is without his runes. He smiles as the other boy doesn't get too worried. "You did nothing wrong. I am just not a worthy sparring opponent."

"Not necessarily true. Like you said, you're just out of practice," Whitley calms some when he sees that he did not seriously hurt Besa, then shoots him an encouraging smile. And reluctantly, he admits, "You did get me a few times."

Besa's head shakes, his pony tail moving behind his head and those few stray locks falling to frame his face, "No. You are clearly the victor." His hand does reach up now to rub his chest briefly but he flashes Whit a warm smile, "You are very skilled." Then his hand drops and he uses it to shift his position so he can sit on the mat and not be in such an awkward position.

"Thanks, I know. My father has been training me ever since I left the womb," Whitley shifts too, so his legs are crossed. "You were good too." A smile accompanies the gentle assurance. "I usually don't get all up close and personal with my sparring partners," There's a faint blush before he says, "It was, uh…interesting."

Besa takes a deep breath, "I was remembering more…wrestling. I hope that was proper?" Maybe sparring is different now? His eyebrows pull together when he notices the blush, "I am sorry….I was wrong? I can stick to boxing the bag…." He looks over at the sand bag he had originally been punching the day he bloodied his knuckles.

Whitley shrugs. "It was fine, just not what I'm used to." His head tilts slightly, confused, as grey eyes curiously watch the other boy. "Wrong? No…" He starts, unsure if he correctly understands Besa's words. "I don't mind sparring with you. It was fun."

Besa's still unsure of whatever lines Whitley has mentally drawn in the preverbal sand for them. He's still frowning softly, "I do not want to make you uncomfortable…" The inside of his cheek is chewed on slightly as he looks up at the white haired boy, but then nods at the assessment of the spar. "It was. I will try to be better next time."

"I'll be fine." Whitley shakes his head, then a soft smile. "I'm better with swords or staffs…if you think you used those in your past lives, we could spar with them."

Well, that answers that. No more wrestling then. Besa nods, "I have, yes. We can spar with those next time if you'd prefer." Besa will just get his ass handed to him even more. Ah well. That's good for learning, right? He starts to stand up, a soft groan, he did get smacked a few times, not enough to do damage, but enough to make his sore for the next few minutes. "It is getting late. Perhaps we can spar again in a few days? Pottery tomorrow?"

Whitley stands quicker, he didn't suffer too much in the way of actual blows. He offers Besa an arm up while his other stretches, and an incorporeal hand tugs his water bottle towards him. He takes a long drink and tips it towards the younger boy in offering. "Definitely." With that, Whitley will walk Besa to his dorm unless he's shooed away.

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