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mekachu04the cruel part of him saw why they laughed - azirphale looked so uncormfortable on the mat. He'd clearly had to borrow someone'd gi - it was a bit too snug around the middle, to tight in the shoulders, to long int he legs. Immedtiatly, crolwey knew this was a bad idea. what's worse, he didn't know if this was a munishment for him or his opponantly. his teammates watched on with open malice in their faces.
crowley wanted to cal the whole thing off. which - might be worse.
azirpahle had no idea how to hold the staff, alternating between too low or too high. but what was frustrating is crolwey could see by his grip that he wasn't unskilled. he clearly knew how to handle some form of weaspon. his movements - while awtrful for the staff, clearly indicated a training somwhere.
and maybe the standard was staff - and it was crlwey's best weapon too - but te strugging angel across from him has a complete novice.
"Have you ever held a staff before?" he blurted, not meaning to sound as unkind as it came out, and the man winced, head bowed. showing differnace to corlwey - deafeated already.
what was worse was the laughter.... from his own team. he was suppostable drift compatable with all four of them - and yet....
something was rotten in eaden.
crowley has ready to walk away, not wanting this humiliation do go on, when sadnelphon opened his mouth, "look at him - it's like a dumbpling on a stick."
Azirpahle just looked missarable. the other pilots in the room alternated between snickering and looking uneasy. but the Host ran this station, and to call them out was carrer suiside. corlwey studdied his oppantnet for amoment, beofe a spark on insteration hit him.
he took his own staff in hand, studing it for amoment, before turning to swing it with all his might at a support beam. the room was quicet minis the lingering snap from the wood. he could feel the dumbfounded lookde fromt he gathereed group as he inspected the broken edge. it was a fairly clean break between the leather grips, and he jab the splintered edge ont he metal ground to knock loose hte splinters and dull the jagged edges. it wasn't as clean down the middle as he'd of licked, but it was uncomprimed at the grib. he flipped it around, leather wrapping to his opponent.
"Wanna trade?"
he knew he'd mad the right call when instead of being offeneded, the poor bastard looked calm. he took the broken piece, hadning his full staff to crolwey and studdied the piece. when he took his possition this time, he held himself upright, sturdy, standing in profile to corlwey with a two handed grip at the base.
this was the sparring corlwey was looking for - two mismatched weapons, two comepltely different styles, and both comepleltey at ease. well - almost at ese. colwey could tell the poorly fit uniform was holding Azripahle back - but it wasn't neough to give crolwey the andvantage. they matched each other blow to blow, neither gaining ground. azirpahle fought with someone intimate with a short blade, a pure extention of themselves, without the flashy work corlwey was used to seeing.
the quiet that had fallen had grown to cheering now - all save for the other Host pilots - each being encrouaged equally byt he group. it was the most fun corlwey had ever had ont he mat, and he could see that shy smile on azirpahle face - and he knew it was the same. it led him to being more play ful with his hits, and azirpahle chased beatufully, evolving into less of a spar and more of a true dance. but crolwey had one more trick up his sleeve. it was a massive risk - it could back fire horribly.
but... but the gi was horrible, and limiting, and he could tell azirpahle lacked the range of motion to really show what his sill set was. so crowley struck - so very carefully. Azirpahel stepped aside to avoid the blow, but that's not what crowley was attempting to do, and the staff passed easy betwen the layers of the gi, tangling in the borrowd uniform, and hitting the strainged seams head on. the threads gave way, and crowley's staff was now runing thouhg the garmet.
the fight paused, the group chuckling as azirpahle one handed inspeced the now trapped staff, looking bewindered at whatthat was supposted to be. the gi was compramised - and more twisteing would continie to break the seam s- it might even damage the fabric itself. it seemed to him like the match was over now.
someone in the onlookers whicteled, another yelled [servatiosly] 'take it off!' corlwey just shrugged, and smiled. Azirpahle moved to untie to belt - only intending to loosen the uniform eough to remove the staff - assuming the event was over. instead, as soon as he did, there was enoughter wolf-whicstle, and someone commented, asking who had the singles?
crowley was watching him carefully, and when azirpahle turned to look at him impourously, he shrugged again, motioning for his own belt. "I'll drop mine too " he panted, grinning, "wanna keep going?"
he could feel gabreils eyes boring into his skull. the Host believed themselves above such displayes, and he knew quite well what they thought of him, and his physic. they wouldn't appprove.
but... but this was hte mst alive he'd felt in.. in years. he wasn't ready to wrap it up nad go back to being shoved along wher ever his co-pilot needed him that day; often hidden in some back room out of sight and alone.he wasn't smart like the real Host pilots - he knew his place. but.. but jsut for this little bot....
he nodded to crolwey, and took of the borrowed gi. he could /hear/ sandelphons snear from across the room - but colryw didn't bat an eye. even the other pilots - they get right on carring on. the fact that he wasn't fit and scupleted like them didn't seem to matter at all at the moemnt. corlwey took of his own gi - looking much more like the extpected build of a pilot - if perhaps to lanky, and azripahle handed him back the staff that had been cuahgt in his uniferom before both tops where tossed aside. pickign up him imporomptly made 'sword', azripahel fell back into possition.
crowley wanted to cal the whole thing off. which - might be worse.
azirpahle had no idea how to hold the staff, alternating between too low or too high. but what was frustrating is crolwey could see by his grip that he wasn't unskilled. he clearly knew how to handle some form of weaspon. his movements - while awtrful for the staff, clearly indicated a training somwhere.
and maybe the standard was staff - and it was crlwey's best weapon too - but te strugging angel across from him has a complete novice.
"Have you ever held a staff before?" he blurted, not meaning to sound as unkind as it came out, and the man winced, head bowed. showing differnace to corlwey - deafeated already.
what was worse was the laughter.... from his own team. he was suppostable drift compatable with all four of them - and yet....
something was rotten in eaden.
crowley has ready to walk away, not wanting this humiliation do go on, when sadnelphon opened his mouth, "look at him - it's like a dumbpling on a stick."
Azirpahle just looked missarable. the other pilots in the room alternated between snickering and looking uneasy. but the Host ran this station, and to call them out was carrer suiside. corlwey studdied his oppantnet for amoment, beofe a spark on insteration hit him.
he took his own staff in hand, studing it for amoment, before turning to swing it with all his might at a support beam. the room was quicet minis the lingering snap from the wood. he could feel the dumbfounded lookde fromt he gathereed group as he inspected the broken edge. it was a fairly clean break between the leather grips, and he jab the splintered edge ont he metal ground to knock loose hte splinters and dull the jagged edges. it wasn't as clean down the middle as he'd of licked, but it was uncomprimed at the grib. he flipped it around, leather wrapping to his opponent.
"Wanna trade?"
he knew he'd mad the right call when instead of being offeneded, the poor bastard looked calm. he took the broken piece, hadning his full staff to crolwey and studdied the piece. when he took his possition this time, he held himself upright, sturdy, standing in profile to corlwey with a two handed grip at the base.
this was the sparring corlwey was looking for - two mismatched weapons, two comepltely different styles, and both comepleltey at ease. well - almost at ese. colwey could tell the poorly fit uniform was holding Azripahle back - but it wasn't neough to give crolwey the andvantage. they matched each other blow to blow, neither gaining ground. azirpahle fought with someone intimate with a short blade, a pure extention of themselves, without the flashy work corlwey was used to seeing.
the quiet that had fallen had grown to cheering now - all save for the other Host pilots - each being encrouaged equally byt he group. it was the most fun corlwey had ever had ont he mat, and he could see that shy smile on azirpahle face - and he knew it was the same. it led him to being more play ful with his hits, and azirpahle chased beatufully, evolving into less of a spar and more of a true dance. but crolwey had one more trick up his sleeve. it was a massive risk - it could back fire horribly.
but... but the gi was horrible, and limiting, and he could tell azirpahle lacked the range of motion to really show what his sill set was. so crowley struck - so very carefully. Azirpahel stepped aside to avoid the blow, but that's not what crowley was attempting to do, and the staff passed easy betwen the layers of the gi, tangling in the borrowd uniform, and hitting the strainged seams head on. the threads gave way, and crowley's staff was now runing thouhg the garmet.
the fight paused, the group chuckling as azirpahle one handed inspeced the now trapped staff, looking bewindered at whatthat was supposted to be. the gi was compramised - and more twisteing would continie to break the seam s- it might even damage the fabric itself. it seemed to him like the match was over now.
someone in the onlookers whicteled, another yelled [servatiosly] 'take it off!' corlwey just shrugged, and smiled. Azirpahle moved to untie to belt - only intending to loosen the uniform eough to remove the staff - assuming the event was over. instead, as soon as he did, there was enoughter wolf-whicstle, and someone commented, asking who had the singles?
crowley was watching him carefully, and when azirpahle turned to look at him impourously, he shrugged again, motioning for his own belt. "I'll drop mine too " he panted, grinning, "wanna keep going?"
he could feel gabreils eyes boring into his skull. the Host believed themselves above such displayes, and he knew quite well what they thought of him, and his physic. they wouldn't appprove.
but... but this was hte mst alive he'd felt in.. in years. he wasn't ready to wrap it up nad go back to being shoved along wher ever his co-pilot needed him that day; often hidden in some back room out of sight and alone.he wasn't smart like the real Host pilots - he knew his place. but.. but jsut for this little bot....
he nodded to crolwey, and took of the borrowed gi. he could /hear/ sandelphons snear from across the room - but colryw didn't bat an eye. even the other pilots - they get right on carring on. the fact that he wasn't fit and scupleted like them didn't seem to matter at all at the moemnt. corlwey took of his own gi - looking much more like the extpected build of a pilot - if perhaps to lanky, and azripahle handed him back the staff that had been cuahgt in his uniferom before both tops where tossed aside. pickign up him imporomptly made 'sword', azripahel fell back into possition.
