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tampered2007-01-13 01:57 am
noh-dancer.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-01-13 01:57 am
Log: Ongoing
When; January 12th
Rating; PG for now, may be changed later
Characters;![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noh_dancer Scarab, snarky_padre_v Vincent, wisdome_rcvr Henry
Summary; Blades and Ballistics 101
Log;
Scarab ran the cleaning cloth over her sword again, and sighed for the umpteenth time.
Frederick was here still.
He was here, and he wanted to see her....
She was understandably upset, but for now there was nothing to be done for it.
Instead she held her katana up to look down the hilt across the blade lengthwise, as her master senseis had taught her, and satisfied that it was now free of tarnishing blood, lay it carefully beside her, and waited for Henry and Vincent.
There was a room just down the first flight of stairs to the cellar that had probably been originally intended as storage.
Scarab had taken it over, and while the others were settling in to thier rooms just after the move, she had been cleaning it out, and laying mats on the bare concrete floor.
The room itself was massive, and doubled as a safe training space, and an improvised, modest shooting range.
Her own assortement of knives, and blades were neatly hung along the left wall, while a small workbench and a number of her collection of guns sat against the right.
It wasn't a difficult place to find, being one of the few well-lit rooms in the cellar at all, and she knew Henry had an easier time using thier shared marks for location than Vincent.
However, she'd had the presence of mind to put post-it notes with arrows on them to poin the path from her own room ( where she had told Vincent to go) to her own little armory.
It was high time Vincent learned how to shoot....and Henry...well. Henry was ready to practice with live steel.
But more than that; Scarab wanted to learn from him.
She hadn't liked changing without knowing how...it bothered Scarab that her own body could change so drastically without her control.
Now, she simply waited. Alone with her thoughts, and too many of them were turning back to Frederick.
She hoped her brothers would show up soon so she could take her mind off of it's ceaseless circling.
Rating; PG for now, may be changed later
Characters;
noh_dancer Scarab, snarky_padre_v Vincent, wisdome_rcvr HenrySummary; Blades and Ballistics 101
Log;
Scarab ran the cleaning cloth over her sword again, and sighed for the umpteenth time.
Frederick was here still.
He was here, and he wanted to see her....
She was understandably upset, but for now there was nothing to be done for it.
Instead she held her katana up to look down the hilt across the blade lengthwise, as her master senseis had taught her, and satisfied that it was now free of tarnishing blood, lay it carefully beside her, and waited for Henry and Vincent.
There was a room just down the first flight of stairs to the cellar that had probably been originally intended as storage.
Scarab had taken it over, and while the others were settling in to thier rooms just after the move, she had been cleaning it out, and laying mats on the bare concrete floor.
The room itself was massive, and doubled as a safe training space, and an improvised, modest shooting range.
Her own assortement of knives, and blades were neatly hung along the left wall, while a small workbench and a number of her collection of guns sat against the right.
It wasn't a difficult place to find, being one of the few well-lit rooms in the cellar at all, and she knew Henry had an easier time using thier shared marks for location than Vincent.
However, she'd had the presence of mind to put post-it notes with arrows on them to poin the path from her own room ( where she had told Vincent to go) to her own little armory.
It was high time Vincent learned how to shoot....and Henry...well. Henry was ready to practice with live steel.
But more than that; Scarab wanted to learn from him.
She hadn't liked changing without knowing how...it bothered Scarab that her own body could change so drastically without her control.
Now, she simply waited. Alone with her thoughts, and too many of them were turning back to Frederick.
She hoped her brothers would show up soon so she could take her mind off of it's ceaseless circling.
no subject
He was more aware of the sensations within all of him limbs, his body than last incarnation.
He didn't feel so much stronger as more aware.
And part of that awareness was knowing what precious little power he had, and how it radiated through him.
He was sure that in the same way he had reached for that feather, had joined himself to Xuchilbara in changing Scarab, he could do more.
There was all kinds of power out there in the world. If he could learn to tap it wothout tiring, he could use it.
For himself. For the family. For all they held dear...
but for now, he needed to at least learn these weapons skills. Had he been able to aim his gun, maybe things would have gone differently in that bathroom.
He could almost taste it, he wanted it so much. To have seen Bloodrayne go down with a bullet between her eyes instead've her rushing forward to claim him.
Maybe he could have then lifted her, used those swords she had on the male vampire, cut him before he could cut Scarab.
maybe the bloodshed could have ended with he, Vincent, victorious.
it was a wild daydream but, given time, not as farfetched as it seemed now.
He used to think the very idea of becoming a warrior was foolish. A hive mind mentality best left to those not smart enough to make their own ideas, their own rules.
But things had changed...
no subject
He walked in, and he looked...odd, even for him. The last few days had been pretty hard on him. He seemed tired and gaunt, and his hands were strangely twitchy. His hair stuck out at all angles.
But he smiled as he saw Scarab. He was really needing this. Focus that wasn't Joseph Schreiber was getting hard to come by. "Thank you for this," he said, pulling the sword carrier off his shoulders. "I think I'm ready for it." He nodded appreciatively at the knives on the wall, and the mats. "Place looks nice."