Tranquility is a Farce
Log Info
- Title: Tranquility is a Farce
- Emitter: Simony
- Place: The Colosseum
- Summary: Aryia helps Simony vent as well as go over some complication emotions. Lots of swearing, of course.
- Colosseum, early afternoon.
Another hot and humid day further smothered by dark, grey clouds. The grand building is quiet, no fights today due to the heat.
Quiet, except for a few noises here and there.
With a heavy breath, and grunt, Simony punches at the target once more, her hands heavily wrapped. Another grunt, another punch, and another, and another.
"You idiot!", she says loudly. "Stupid. Why, why did you say that?" The target shakes as she delivers another punch. Hissing, she shakes that hand, before punching again with another. "You're going to wreck things. Why, you idiot?"
GAME: Aryia rolls stealth: (17)+28: 45
Hot and humid, cold and dry, rain or sleet, training never stops. Nor does it stop for Aryia, even though she's here for the afternoon instead of her morning routine. Her usual getup is mildly different: her buckle jacket is shoulder robed with a silver chain clasp keeping it together, and her muscular arms are wrapped in leather cords with a dense amount of runic inscriptions upon them.
It still doesn't change how she glides into the place, panning to see how sparse the place was due to the recent tropical storm. But one figure was there, training. Venting and training. That's familiar. Many brick walls punched in frustration.
Deathly silent, she glides over and crosses her arms, resting on a back foot as she simply watches over Simony's shoulder.
Grunt. Thump. Grunt. Thump. Simony falls into a steady rhythm, occasionally letting out "Idiot!" or a swear word in Goblin. There's a pause, and she kicks at the training dummy, lifting her foot to smash at it with her heel.
"Ow fuck...", she grumbles, lowering her foot. Turning then, Simony pauses and screams, eyes wide at Aryia's sudden appearance RIGHT THERE.
Holding her chest, she pants. "Aryia! I didn't see you there..."
Sudden screaming elicits a twitch of a long ear and a flicker of a frown on the mute. She gives her signature Stare of assessment for a beat before it flicks to the foot, then to the target.
Aryia steps around Simony. Lifts one booted foot, and slowly kicks out with her heel. But she points down while balancing; her back foot is pointing backwards away from the target. Seems to be where the gobbo's strike went wrong.
The Goblin peers back at the Mul'neissa. "Hey, you didn't make a single sound and it startled me seeing you there.", Simony says sounding a little grumpy.
Her eyes follow Aryia's, and she observes the stance taken by the Elf.
She pushes out a breath, and copies the stance, kicking out and connecting with a solid thud. With a determined expression on her face, she begins to alternate kicks, left, right, left, right...
"How're you doing, Aryia? It's been a little while, that storm was kind of crazy."
Aryia just shrugs at the grump, her lowering her foot and stepping back, crossing her arms once more to watch Simony resume. Always teaching. She lets the question hang in the air for a few seconds before a hand flits about, "Fine. Was annoying to train in the storm, but it was good practice."
She harbors silence in her own way. Commanding it. Then- "You're doing fucking terrible. That's 'pissed kicking', not 'focused kicking'."
And there's that bluntness. <Handspeech>
The Goblin's own hands flick and flit about in response. Her kicking slowly straightens itself out as she tries to focus more on the activity.
"Yes, I am upset with myself. I.. it's complicated and I don't feel like going into it too much. But I am annoyed with myself, we can leave it at that."
Simony begins to alternate between kicks and punches, methodical and measured. "I stayed inside and caught up with my studies during the storm. My apologies, I assumed you would have avoided the storm. It seemed a little unnatural to me. A normal rainstorm is usually nothing to worry about, though." <Handspeech>
"I'm a sailor, so learning to be in those storms is important," Aryia mentions off the cuff. "I don't expect most to be able to deal with it. I am not most."
She puts her hands on her hips, verdant jacket flaring out as the buckles on it softly clanks. She squints, glowing eyes barely peeking over her shades. "Being upset with yourself is natural. Venting by beating the shit out of something is natural. Both can live in harmony. I am in a constant state of being angry. But this is not harmony. You're going to break your fingers or your foot like this." <Handspeech>
She pauses, her arms at her sides, hands clenched into fists. A breath is slowly let out. "What is it I am doing wrong?", Simony replies, her signs crisp and terse.
"I'm beating up a target because I don't wish to smash myself in the face. And it'd not be fair to take it out on others."
Aryia's answer is quick and reflexive, like she's answered this before. Either for others, or for herself. "You lack acceptance. Whatever you did is what it was. And whatever will come of it will be. Self depreciation is fine. I'm a dumb fuck all the time. But you are here, in the present."
Uncouthly, a boot comes up and shoves the target away, sliding in the muddy sand several yards before it comes to a tumbling stop. Scarred grey hands come up, palms open. Targets to punch. "Align your frustration with your practice and hit me. Vent your anger. Your rage. Your fury." <Handspeech>
Her exhale of breath is noisy, and she tilts her head side to side, a few vertebrae popping in her neck. "Yesss, I am not at acceptance, I am working through anger."
The Gobbo does as commanded, and begins to throw punches at Aryia's hands. "I'm sorry."
A few kicks are also tried, Simony jumping up to reach.
Aryia's targets are kept low for Simony, moving and changing to keep them on their toes. It's still rote. There's no anger. It's there, untapped. Her hands gesture quickly between combinations. "To who? Sure as fuck isn't me. What the fuck are you sorry for?"
The targets move faster.<Handspeech>
Simony's mouth opens, but then closes, her concentration on keeping up with the moving targets. Her face begins to flush a deep red, as he punches and kicks have more energy behind them, landing with solid thwaps, when she connects.
"I do not wish to say, right now. Just let me vent. We can talk later. It's a little embarrassing, and probably stupid."
Aryia presses. The targets push back some on each thwap, the mute unfazed by each strike. "You're not venting. Tranquility without chaos is a farce. It's only attainable in the aftermath of fire. Hit. ME."
The targets are practically being shoved forward. <Handspeech>
Simony frowns, some of her teeth sticking out from under her upper lip. After a moment, her begins ignoring Aryia's hands, instead aiming for the monk's stomach. "Tranquility without chaos is a farce? What do you even mean? And... okay, I will hit you!" The Gobbo's fists hit faster than before, her brow wrinkled with concentration.
The two have sparred before. Aryia is clearly in a bracket far above basically everyone that visits the Colosseum. But here, she doesn't dip and dodge. She doesn't counter. She just lets the gobbo hit her gut. Not even tensing. Every blow is accepted, but pain doesn't even register on her face.
Simony is not built for endurance, and it shows, as after several long moments, she begins to tire. A few more wild punches connect before she simply falls forward, her face pressed into Aryia's stomach.
"It's not fair but I can't help how I feel.", she says with a sniffle. "How do you deal with feelings for people?"
The punches that land on muscled stomach merely melt away as Aryia keeps a placid expression. And then Simony falls forward, spent. In perhaps what might amount to a rare expression of empathy, the pugilist teacher carefully pats the bald head reassuringly.
"Feelings are what make us alive," she gestures once hands are back in the gobber's sight. There's a pause. Like she's seen something like this play out before her several times. A sigh escapes her. "You accept it by speaking with the person. Took even me a long while to stop being a little bitch and admit feelings for my girlfriend," she elaborates. "You think were fucking something up with this?" <Handspeech>
The Goblin's ears perk up. "Girlfriend?", she wonders with a sudden smile. She lets out a breath. "I can't really speak with them. They like someone else, and I don't want to screw that up for them. And.. I like someone else also. So. I'm trying to do the right thing."
Aryia gives a faint glance to the side, a ghost of a smile. "Yes. Her name is Violet," she answers. The mute takes a step back and crouches down to her haunches, face pinched in thought. "Well that's a shit situation. Might have to accept the former for what it is. What's stopping you on the latter?"
She shakes her head. "There is no right thing. Only the right thing for you." <Handspeech>
"That's what I mean, right for me. I just don't want to hurt anyone. Or get hurt myself." Simony's smile returns, "Violet? That is a pretty name. And so you had trouble with it? Trying to sort out your feelings? And hoping she felt the same way? Or had you decided you were going to tell her, no matter what her response would be?"
The Gobbo approaches Aryia opens her arms to attempt a hug. "You are wise in ways outside physical confrontation and fighting."
"Impossible. Someone's going to get hurt. Enduring the pain is what must be prepared for, not the tiptoeing trying to not injure," Aryia motions before giving a dip of the head. There's a pause. "In my earlier days of all this adventuring, my emotions and mental state were a maelstrom of that had left me in many various straits. I bumbled my way into her arms at many low points, and I am lucky that she felt similarly," she surmises slowly with small signs, as if she was speaking quietly. "I told her. Rather...-" her dusky cheeks tinge faintly red. "-my emotions boiled over and I kissed her. Like I said, I'm lucky."
The offered hug is met with a raised brow. Deftly countered with a pat on the shoulder. Not a hugger, it seems. "You'd be surprised how many people come to me for relationship advice," she signs, counting on her fingers. "At least seven times." <Handspeech>
The Goblin's expression falls a little, and she nods her head. "Then it shall be me who hurts.", she says quietly. Nodding, Simony rubs at her cheeks. "So a kiss done right can inform as to one's feelings? Did you feel nervous? And a little bit of luck never hurt."
She giggles and grins at the head pat, almost as good as a hug it seems. "Ah... well. I am thankful for the advice. And for allowing me to ... vent."
Aryia blinks and gestures quickly. "No, do /not/ do that. You must speak with them first before even attempting a kiss." Her eyes narrow slightly. She reaches out, and flicks Simony on the forehead. "Fuck off with that. That's just being a glutton for pain. If the people you like can't share that pain, then they're not worth your time."
She glances aside. "I was a nervous, sobbing mess." Seems like even the monolith of a pugilist can succumb to emotions.
She shrugs. "Half of a fight is in your head. Learning to align your thoughts and feelings in combination with your body and spirit is how you surpass your perceived limits."
"Besides, sounds like you have options." <Handspeech>
"Oh no, I won't try a kiss... I might on the other, though." Simony shrugs her shoulders, and blinks at the flick, a hand rubbing at the spot.
"It's not that they can't share the pain, I just don't want to inflict it upon them." The Gobbo reaches out to pat at Aryia's arm. "That was very brave of you, though. To still manage the kiss after."
She huffs and rubs at her chin. "I do have options. But. Well, no matter. It will work out or it won't. I am willing to fight the fight in my head. I will take your advice."
"Use your best judgement," is all Aryia has to say about that before frowning. "You may not want to, but you may /need/ to. Dirty wounds cannot be patched without cleaning them. It hurts but it is necessary."
Again, another shrug. "It's what it is. Call it brave, call it 'sudden urge that crept up on me'."
"Good."
She ambles back to the toppled target, her reaching down and easily picking it up. The runic cords on her arms tightening up as her muscles bulge. It gets dropped in front of Simony. "Now work on that fight. Kicks. Again." <Handspeech>
"Best judgement. Erf. I shall try, that's all I can promise. And I really don't want to hurt anyone. Or cause them trouble. But I'll try. I think, judging from a few interactions, that they have an inkling. Which makes the thought of talking about it easier. Modestly."
She grins then, "Brave, definitely brave." The practice dummy is eyed as Aryia casually drops it before her. Simony lets out a breath, and then utters a quiet prayer. Her body bulges slightly, and she begins kicking with a renewed vigor, the kicks more solid and meatier than before.
-End Scene-