trans_9 | Getting by on handouts [Open]

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Getting by on handouts [Open]

It seemed weird to think about it, but ever since arriving on the Meatship, Will hadn't really spent any time just...working. He'd taken the time to walk around, he'd met people, given some good advice (and lots of bad), tried to do well by people, but he hadn't taken the time to do what he did best; relax.

It was odd that even with the threat of dreams looming over them all, people were still...functioning; their worlds were dead, they were being driven into a war, and they had next to nothing, but they kept going. They weren't in the best moods, their tension had all gone through the roof, but they were surviving. And it was time for him to do his big as well.

He found a nice spot in the middle of the city park and sat down with his back against a large fountain with his guitar across his legs. He'd played a little, but not enough. This was who he was more than his powers. He may have been told he had a destiny in the celestial war, and he'd also been told he was to fight for all the multiverse against...whatever they were, but this was his real calling; busking.

It was a quick few minutes tuning up Ria, his old sixstring, before he set his hat down in front of him (habit more than anything, that) and began to pluck out a tune he'd known for years and always found appealing. After a minute or two to warm up, he began to sing a bit as well, lost in his own little world.

"Travailler c'est trop dur
et voler c'est pas beau
d'mander la charité
c'est qu'que chose j'peux pas faire
chaque jour que moi je vis
on m' demande de quoi je vis
j' dis que j' vis sur l'amour
et j'espère de viv' vieux.

Work's too bloody hard,
stealing isn't pretty.
Getting by on handouts
means getting by on pity.
Every day of my life
someone asks how I'll get by,
I say I'll live on love
and I hope to never die.

I’ll pick up this old box
run my fingers down the row.
I’ll play a tune or two
let the dancers come and go.
For this life’s too sweet and short
to leave it sad my friend
There’s no time for tears and sorrow,
let’s go dancing to our end.

Work's too bloody hard,
stealing isn't pretty.
Getting by on handouts
means getting by on pity.
Every day of my life
someone asks how I'll get by,
I say I'll live on love
and I hope to never die.

If I end up playing gigs
every night and every day,
any pub or any club
that will let me sing away.
I might think to myself
is this what i want to do
but I think I know the answer
when I sing and I look at you.

Work's too bloody hard,
stealing isn't pretty.
Getting by on handouts
means getting by on pity.
Every day of my life
someone asks how I'll get by,
I say I'll live on love
and I hope to never die."

He stopped playing after the song and took a long sigh. He smiled, his mind back where it belonged, and began to play again.

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"Hey, Kala." Blin shook her a bit to keep her grounded. "Stay here 'n now, lass. No one is gonna die." This girl had more mood swings than Carters had liver pills. It was a roller coaster ride of comfort and counseling. "We aren't going to let them. Together. Ye aren't fighting alone anymore."

She forgot. Sometimes she still forgot that she wasn't alone. Maybe it had only been three years, but it felt like yesterday. Her hands closed over Mister Barlow's wrists and she forced herself to stay in the moment. It was tough, still. It was tough to do that. To stay still when she wasn't focused on...something else.

"People die," she said. "People die when you aren't strong enough. I've watched it. I've killed them because of it." Her grip tightened and she shivered lightly. "I've killed people because I lost control, because I wasn't strong enough to stop the--" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's not now. And it's now that matters. Right now. And you're right, I'm not alone. We can fight."

People are stronger together.

Blin was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke, while he was gathering his thoughts. When he did finally say something, it was barely above a whisper.

"Ye aren't the only one with blood on yer hands. I'm personally responsible for over five thousand deaths. Some because I had to stop them from blowing up themselves, but most... 4,894 were killed by my hands. And it could have been even worse. But I'm better now. You are better now. Because we have to be. People are relying on us just as we rely on them."

Kala leaned forward until her forehead brushed his shoulder. There wasn't a gafting thing she could say, not really. She swore she'd get better, that she'd learn control, that she'd protect people--everyone--from whatever was there to hurt others. She hadn't killed that many people. But it numbered in the hundreds and it was enough. Killing one person was enough.

"...better now," she mumbled. "Best...can do...to make up for it. S'protect, help." It came out all muffled and stupid and-- Whatever. He'd understand, somehow.

"Aye, it is." He sighed heavily and set down the guitar next to him. "We improve te serve their memory and prevent it from ever happenin' again." He patted her head and shifted to get up. "Hand me me hat and we can get started, if ye like."

Kala wordlessly pulled away to grab his hat, which she solemnly handed him before shoving herself up. While she was still sleepy, she wasn't going to say not to getting started on something. Besides, he was right.

"I'm ready," she said quietly. "But I've been ready for a long time. I just didn't know where to walk."

"I'd put my money on a few feet away from the fountain. Wouldn't be nice te catch yerself on it. Now," he said, pushing a button near the top of his cane that extended it into a long metal staff, "show me what ye know." He tapped the end on the ground a few times, more of a habit than anything else, and readied himself.

"Close combat?" Kala asked as Rising Phoenix flashed, spinning her armor out in threads of white and gold until they were solid. Her sword form coalesced a moment later, the energy brilliant with touches of red to it along the blade as she gripped it. It was, mostly, a two-handed weapon, but she'd used it one-handed before. For now, she studied him, and thought out strategies.

Farla used to say that a mage never entered battle without thinking first.

"Aye, close combat." He tilted his head and cracked his neck, shifting into what Ronin had called 'snake form'; a lithe form meant for quick snaps of the staff before returning to center. And he snapped, from the left, using the top of his staff. It was a gentle strike, of course, but fast. The first time always needed to be.

"Lesson one; don't think. Ye need to analyze the opponent, true, but ye need to do it immediately. If ye find yerself in too much doubt, be prepared to spend some time hurting."

Good point, she thought with a soft hiss as his strike landed. Quick thinking had saved her hide in battle, hadn't it? Sometimes there wasn't any time to do much more than react. She flinched just a little at the mention of spending time hurting. She'd done that more often than not.

Kala was moving then, sharply focused, as she attacked. Her movements were tighter than they should have been, but quick, and she backed her blow with the force of a shearing wind that gathered along her arms and radiated down the sword itself.

"Better." He pulled his staff up to block and slide; once the blade made contact with the metal, the force could be diverted away from the body. The wind... that was a bit more of a problem.

So, you have the power to channel and transform energies, and someone's using magic against you in a fight. What do you do? Two options flashed into Blin's mind; one, take it like a man, get injured, and give up teaching before he even got started. That was a stupid plan. Two, change it into something useful. But what was useful here?

That was going to take some time to figure out. So, for now, he worked on instinct; divert the energy of the blade, let it slide to the side, use it to set her off balance, spin to kick out her legs.

Good times.

Kala didn't see it coming until it was too late and abruptly found herself sprawled, cheek against the ground, in a semi-dazed tangle before she shoved herself upright. As usual, she wasn't quitting just because she got knocked down. Kala refocused and moved the strike at him with her sword. He could see her coming in his own fashion and he was more than handy with his cane. She let the tug of worry go and concentrated on showing him what Matt had been teaching her. She wasn't very good at it yet, and she lacked any real grace, but there was strength behind her blows--which she now aimed at him.

There was no breeze this time, but there was cold.

"That's one." Temperature he could deal with. Lower the heat, best to raise it back up again. Fire would be the appropriate counter on that scale, but fire could do real damage.

Light.

He spun his staff around to push a blow away, and gathered some of the magic she was pushing out. He pushed it through his hand, and spun his body around to divert another blow. On the follow through, he stuck his fist out into her face and let the energy go, converted into bright light. He used the chance to pop her on the back with his staff, hopefully sending her down again. If it worked.

Blinded, Kala went down like a sack of potatoes as her round shield went up and slammed outward in an attempt get put distance between them even as she used a secondary swipe at his legs to pull him down, too as she rolled away. She drew a sharp breath as she snapped a quick, hard blow down in the direction he'd gone, but met air with a grunt and a dizzy wobble.

But she didn't give up. Instead, she used the air to find him again as was moving, her swings controlled sweeps as her vision started to filter back in. Kala shook her head, trying to clear her vision, and lunged, pure, driven focus, bent on taking him down. She lead with her shield, like a Paldin, like Matt had been teaching her, and even if she was a massive target for Mister Barlow as a mage, she'd give as good as she got.

"Two." He closed his eyes and waited for her to get close before dropping down low and sticking his staff out horizontally. Once she was close enough, he planted one end into the ground and used it to push himself harshly to the size, tucking and rolling past her charge. Antelope style. Now slightly behind her, he snapped the staff down on her shield arm. No permanent damage, but the arm'd be numb for at least an hour; she'd have to rely on just the one hand for her sword, which would wear her down fast. He could finish this in two, maybe three more moves.

Maybe four. Five, max.

Just as the staff cam down on her arm, she slammed the shield into a curve to deflect it back at Mister Barlow with the same force he'd put into it, before her arm went completely numb. She barely felt the impact and didn't cry out as she fairly crackled with energy, the tingling numbness fueling the surge. There was a low rumble and her hair whipped around her as energy began to build.

She tried to push it down, her breath ragged and sharp from the effort.

This was sparring. He wasn't gong to kill her.

Kala felt the magic crackle over her skin and arc across her armor. Stop. She closed her eyes.

Stop.

Rather than stop the staff from hurtling back towards him, Blin simply got out of it's way; minimize the impact to himself. There was a bigger problem afoot; she was starting to loose control, and pouring out magic. He needed to take her down now.

Luckily, this was exactly the sort of thing he was built for.

He breathed in deeply and focused on her aura, siphoning as much of the stray power out of it that he could do without seriously hurting himself and sending it into the sky as harmless light. Light was easy to turn energy into; it was a basic waveform and required no effort. The real effort was pulling it out of her without breaking down himself.

He could already feel his arms starting to blister again, his scars cracking back open the way only third degree burns can. He need to figure out how to put her down.

He needed time.

Kala shook as she pulled the rest of her power back in, her body aching and tingling, as she focused on Mister Barlow's face. She wasn't supposed to hurt him. She wasn't supposed to hurt anyone but the things she was sent after. The bad things.

The nightmare things.

And she was going to hurt him. This session? This session was done. Kala pulled back on it harder and heard Rising Phoenix burble as she tried to help. Her hair snapped and whipped in the wind as she let out a cry and then, like someone had flipped a switch, Kala toppled ungracefully and hit the ground hard. She said she'd never lose control again. She'd said that.

And Rising Phoenix knew she'd meant it.

Kala blinked, staring through tangles of her bright white hair, and felt the last rush of cool air float by like a sigh of relief. It was done and all the magic had been safely tucked away.

Blin sighed, flooded with relief. It wasn't having his life at risk that'd worried him; he was used to that. It was having hers on the line as well. He pushed the button on his staff, collapsing it back down into his usual walking cane, and looped the cord around his hand before bending down next to her.

"Are ye alright?" he said, his voice filled with genuine concern.

That? Was a good question. Kala tried her best to turn herself over, but it was half-arsed, and she made a softly frustrated sound as both of her arms tingled sharply. She'd shut down so much that even her armor was gone. Rising Phoenix was not thrilled and the odd vocalization was one of definite ire, though she didn't actually put words to it.

I'm sorry, she said, trying to clamp down on the loudness of her mental voice, but it was definitely more of a raised-voice than a whisper, as usual. That. Shouldn't have happened. I'm okay. Or. I'll be okay in a few hours. There was a pause and a slight struggle as she tried to move again. ...are you okay?

Edited 2010-02-04 02:46 (UTC)

Blin sighed again. "I've been worse. We'd best be gettin' ye back to yer room. Ye'll have to give me directions." He carefully helped her get right-side up (Not that being on your chest is really wrong) and lifted her into the air. Putting that kind of weight onto his arms hurt like hell with the open wounds, and was probably causing them to bleed more, but it was justified pain.

"Wait, did ye just speak in my mind? I didn't know you could do that."

I...wasn't sure if you could hear me, Kala said and if she'd had the strength, she might have jerked. As it was her voice was horrified. You're hurt. I hurt you. She was dead-weight, too, which was difficult under normal circumstances and that just made her all the more angry with herself. She focused it, though. All of it.

Stay still, she said, I don't know if this will work...but I have to try. It's my fault. She quietly, carefully mentally shoved at her Intelligent Device.

Edited 2010-02-04 03:10 (UTC)

"I'll manage. I've managed there before, and I can most certainly do it this time. Ye need yer bed more than I need anything else." Her magic was definitely good, he had to give her that. The bleeding had stopped, and most of the pain was gone. For now, at least. At the best of times he still had phantom pain in his arms, probably because the original wound was so bad.. he'd never looked into it.

He let out a small grunt, lifting her into the air. She was dead weight, but he'd hauled Ronin out of a battlefield before, Blin'd be damned if he couldn't manage a nineteen year old girl.

"I've had my fair share of run-ins with telepathy before.. Speaking into me mind isn't anything new. I'd do it meself if it didn't seem so bloody weird." He set out towards the bus at a slow pace; he didn't want to jar her too much. The way he saw it, this all happened because he pushed her too far. It was all his fault.

Useful, she said a bit wearily. It can be useful. And you should. Get someone to look at. At your arms. I'm not really a good healer. Kala watched the scenery shift as they worked their way towards the bus. Bits of the city bobbed, the fountain got further away, and she was finally able to turn her cheek against his shoulder just a bit.

I've only shut down like this once, she said after a long pause and a slight half doze. But I didn't. I didn't want to hurt you. And that was an important point, one her mental voice stressed.

"My arms'll be fine. If there's one thing I know about, it's maiming myself." He carried her in silence after that, trying to let her rest, until she spoke into his brain again. Weird.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I pushed you so far... I'm sorry you needed to shut yerself down." There was honest remorse in his voice, and he didn't even try to hide it. "Rest, and I'll get ye back to the bus, alright?"

Getting by on handouts [Open]

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