• Graded • Hard knocks

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Hard knocks

10th Ymiden, 711

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OOC Note: These post were written in collaborative fashion. Both authors have given each other permission to godmod each other's character. You know, the usual

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Up in the dusty orphanage’s attic, Finn wobbled on the edge of his rickety bed. He’d pretended to have been hit by a sudden fever and Zipper had been allowed to see her poor brother while the other children ran and played outside. In truth he was quite well, save for a few bruises, nasty cut just above his eyebrow that Zipper had tended to, and a tired darkening under his eyes. The caretakers didn’t need to know he’d been fighting again, and he wished Zipper hadn’t come either. She wasn’t his mother, but acted like it anyway, and he braced as best he could.

He didn’t need to. She seemed to be in a decent mood today.

“Tell me you at least won,” she said.

“It was Marris,” he muttered. That name alone was enough of an answer. The red-haired Marris wasn’t much bigger, nor much older, nor much stronger, but he was known to have great fits of anger, leading some of the children to suspect he was actually an Aukari.

“And?” she said. Enough of an answer for him but clearly not for her. Even thought she had been out of the orphanage for a season by now, it was still a bit difficult to reconcile the fact that she was out there and he was in here, that she no longer had a pulse on the who and the what of the orphanage. “And you?”

Finn shrugged, then grimaced. Neither of them had pulled any punches, not until they’d heard one of the caretakers entering the courtyard and had fled in opposite directions.

“I hit him, he hit me. He threw a rock at me,” he gestured toward his brow. “I’m fine-” he grimaced again. “Just don’t tell anyone please. Since you left-” He stopped again and shifted uneasily on the edge of the old mattress. “They’re just picking on me.”

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Hard knocks

10th Ymiden, 711

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“No, they’re trying you.” Zipper said, that all-too-familiar look of impatience at something she believed he should have somehow naturally understood etched on her face. “You failed. This is just your new position on the pecking order being inflicted upon you.” she pointed a finger at his face. “You said you hit him. Where? A gentle caress on the cheek? A smooth glide down his thighs as you begged him to fuck you? Go on, tell me how you asserted yourself, Fi.”

“I punched him,” he snarled. He considered simply falling down on the mattress and pulling the covers over his head again until she’d go away. But he knew she would stay, no matter how long he’d wait. “I punched him everywhere,” he bit back. Yet Marris was happily playing outside and healthy while Finn stiffly slid off the bed and limped toward the single, large closet standing in the corner. He dropped to his knees in front of it and slid his wrist underneath the hardwood, fishing for something that Zipper couldn’t yet see. “I could’ve beaten him if you’d teach me magi-”

“Then you would have been a sadder person for it,” she said, dismissing the topic as she always had. “If you had hit him -really hit him- he wouldn’t be standing out there right now. He would be exposed for the defect that he really is.”

Finn squeezed his tongue past his lips as he reached through a layer of thick dust to find a familiar bone hilt. A glint crossed his eyes when he found it and limped back before tossing the old pocket-knife in Zipper’s lap. “Remember? You put it there in case I needed it.” He plonked down on the edge of the bed again and stared at the old, rusty knife. “I need it, but it’s dull. Could you get it sharpened?” he asked hopefully.

“I will,” she said, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion at the complete lack of an insult - a suspicion that was proven when her next sentence hit. “But what’s the point sharpening a blade when the wielder is soft.” She tapped her shoulder. “I want you to hit me where you hit him.”

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Hard knocks

10th Ymiden, 711

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He retreated a little further onto the bed and drew his knees up to his chest before shaking his head. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to keep losing.”

“I didn’t lose,” he grumbled.

“Clearly,” she rolled her eyes at him as she withdrew a pace from the line of beds and motioned for him to follow her to the center of the attic, but he remained where he was and shook his head again. Her face darkened and she closed the distance between them with three large strides. “Stop being so pathetic! It’s Marris this week and next week Elgar will have crippled your legs, but not before that pissant Jimmy has had a good go at your face. I won’t let you become more of a snivelling coward than you already are. C’mon,” she tugged at his sleeve.

“I don’t want to,” he repeated as he swatted her arm away. He’d come to regret the move as it inspired a crude but effective plan in Zipper’s head. She punched his shoulder lightly. “Come on. . .”

He recoiled from her punch but remained motionless otherwise. She simply hit his shoulder again, a little harder this time. Again he recoiled and again he said nothing and simply looked the other way. But they both already knew who was going to win this game.

By the fifth punch he flew up and swung his arm back, aiming to strike her across the jaw, but she was faster and leapt back before his angry little fist could connect.

A sadistic grin appeared on her face. “Was that so hard?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, a trill of anger seeping into his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You missed. Were you even trying?”

The floorboards creaked as he jumped up from the bed and landed with a crack of his knees before wildly charging at her, but she caught his wrists before his miserable punches could do any damage. “Are you going to fight, or are you going to tickle me?”

“Let me go!”

“Only if you’ll listen.”

He scowled at her, and she smirked back at him. She could easily hold him in place all day. What she did not expect was the angry stomp directed toward her toe, followed by his knee shooting up toward her groin.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Hard knocks

10th Ymiden, 711

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That one did not miss. Despite her best efforts at hiding it, he saw the wince.

Neither did the reflexive slap that caught him across the face and turned into a face press as she pushed down on his cheeks with her palm.

“Didn't try that with Marris, did you?”

His eyes flashed with lightning, as though she had woken him from some cowardly slumber. “I twied, I dwid” he said before he yanked his face free from her vice-like grip. He scowled at that sharp, narrow, hateful face of hers. Even in a fight she managed to appear impeccable and undisturbed whereas he struggled to look presentable no matter the occasion.

“Wanna know where else I hit him?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he sent his elbow flying toward her chest. At the same time his other hand shot up toward her hair, a technique he’d learned from the caretakers. His dark strands were short and cropped, but her brown curls flowed to her shoulders and she’d made the mistake of not tying it up before taunting him into a fight.

He got a bit more than a wince out of her this time… which was the point where things got ugly as she pressed down fully on him, her casual top control asserted as she placed her bum down on his stomach. He pulled, he tugged, he threw elbows and drew her head closer and closer with each tug, but that didn’t stop her from gliding both hands across his cheeks until her thumbs rested over his eyes and her fingers gripped either side of his head and she ripped into his eyes until his sockets were more finger than cornea.

Nah.

The expected pain didn’t come. Her thumbs mercifully didn’t dig in.

“Fi,” Zipper said almost sadly. “You fight like a girl. My hair. . . please.” She batted away at his still-viciously pulling hands.

He let go off her hair. She hadn’t quite started to gouge his eyes out just yet, but he didn’t want to try his luck with her. “Stop, please!” he cried out. “I don’t want to go blind! Please Fiona, stop!” he let go of her hair, signalling his defeat, hoping she wouldn’t make him say that she’d beaten him. As soon as she relaxed the pressure, he calmed down again, sighed in relief and tried to get up, but Zipper hadn’t moved yet. He puffed his cheeks. “Are you going to sit on me all day?” he whined.

[Zip]

“You should be used to it by now; it’s the state of your life if you fend off a bully like that.” She slowly stood up, dusting herself off as she did so, and offered him a hand.

Reluctantly, he seized her hand and let his nails dig into her skin before he yanked her arm as hard as he could, pulling her toward the floor. As soon as she hit the floorboards he pounced and dropped himself on top of her, forcing the air out of her lungs. It wasn’t as clean and effortless a move as she’d demonstrated, but through a combination of weight and strength and determination he managed to keep her pinned down for the time being.

“Fi, what are you trying to prove?” He hated how calm, how dismissive, how casual he knew she had to make herself sound every time he won a small battle, every time he scored a point, as if what he did meant nothing at all. She didn’t even resist, not really. He’d know the moment she tried, because it wouldn’t take her much effort at all to flip him around and squash him like a pancake.

“Nothing,” he hissed in a manner that betrayed the opposite.

She shrugged and folded her hands behind her head as she looked up at the ceiling and let out an almost bored sigh. For a while he kept up the pressure, kept pushing down with all his might, but after a few silent trills he finally ceased his efforts and simply collapsed, face-down, on top of her. “I hate you,” he muttered quietly.

“Anything else?”

[Zip]

“I’m tired.”

“Already?” she huffed, almost laughed, he felt the shock of air pass through her stomach. Their fight seemed silly now, comical almost. He didn’t laugh, but the faintest, fleeting smile parted his lips before they settled into their usual frown again.

“I was tired before you came,” he answered as he lightly tapped his chin against the floorboard before rolling over onto his back and joining his sister in staring at the ceiling. Her stomach made a good pillow for his head. “I want to go home.”

Silence. They watched a spider spin a web between the wooden beams that held up the roof.

“Tell me about mum,” he tried. He always tried and she always resisted.

She sighed, not audibly, but he could sense how her belly heaved underneath him. “She’s not going to come back, Fi. I already told you.”

“Was she nice? Was she a nice lady?”

“I suppose.”

Now he smiled, their little battle already forgotten and forgiven. “I knew it!” He pumped his fist into the air. “You do remember her!” He turned his head toward her. “Did she teach you how to fight?”

“No,” she said. “Hurting people has always come naturally.”

His smile faded. “That’s what scares me.” He propped himself up on his elbows and sent a weary look in her direction. “Where do you live now anyway? Can’t I come live with you? Then I won’t have to fight with anyone anymore.”

“Running away again.”

He shifted into a cross-legged sit and idly picked a loose splinter from the floorboard. A frown marred his small face, as if his brain wasn’t quite capable yet of comprehending what she meant. “What’s wrong with running away?”

“It just means you didn’t have the strength and the will to move forward,” she said. “It just means Marris matters more to you than you matter to you. It means,” she stared at him. “You’re okay with him being out there, having his fun, and then coming back at anytime to pick a fight with you. It means you think you deserve that limp more than he does, Fi.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Does it really mean all that?” His voice was bright and sincere and a tinge amazed.

“Only if you let it be,” she said. “He’s walking out there and you’re limping here. Does that make sense to you?”

[Zip]

“Yeah,” he huffed. “His dad was a fighter in the underground. He’s always bragging about it.” He flicked the splinter into the air and watched it fall before resting his chin the cup of his hands.

She laughed an ugly laugh. “His dad is door shittin’ dead so what does it matter?”

He hated to admit it, but it was the truth. “He knows how to fight. I don’t. He fights dirty.”

“Does he? What’s the worst thing he pulled on you?”

“He punched me nose.”

“That’s not dirty. That’s just… punching someone in the bloody nose.”

“It’s not a joke! He almost broke it. I think it’s bent now. It will never be straight again,” he sighed dramatically. He hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror yet, but the punch to his face had certainly felt like it had fractured something. It still hurt a little to breathe through his nostrils.

“It’s just a nose, you baby.” Zipper rolled her eyes. “There are so many nastier ways to break.”

“What about the rock then?” He lifted his hair from his forehead to show where the stone had impacted his head. His skin had colored a little darker and there was a hint of a graze under his hair, but he appeared fine otherwise.

She didn’t look at it. “It’s just a scratch. If he had the balls to make it stick, he would have held you down and clobbered you till everything leaked.”

Finn scrunched up his nose and let out a disgusted sound. “How do you kno- No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“Running away again. From your enemies, from your responsibilities, from the truth.”

“And you’ve never ran away, huh? What about when we came here? You tried to run with me at least three times. Magge told me.”

“Well, I’m all grown up now.” she said, there was a distance to her voice, as if she really wanted to get away from the subject. “Running’s for babies.”

“You’re fourteen, and you’re not even that tall.”

“Tall enough to not see you.”

“Shut up.” He kicked lightly kicked her side and prompted her immediate scorn.

“The nose ain’t nothing,” she said, continuing on the conversation from before. “Lots of other places to hurt: knees, eyes, throat, eyes, ears, eyes, groin, eyes. Lots of other places to make someone never walk right again.”

He flopped down on his belly beside her, their faces not far apart, though he didn’t bother to look at her. “How? If I say… throat, what would you do?” he asked as he set about idly winding and unwinding a lock of her hair around his index finger.

“I will,” she said with a small smile. “Need a volunteer.”

[Zip]

He shrugged. “Show me.”

In a flash, she grabbed him by the collar, pinned him to the ground, before her hands pulled themselves to the centred to press around his adam’s apple - just long enough for him to to feel the start of her knuckles bearing down on his throat, crushing it with all her might. The tightened collar around him kept him from squirming, even as the air was squeezed out of him by the nutcracker choke-

He coughed and wheezed when she relieved the pressure. “That hurt,” he said rather needlessly once he’d caught his breath.

“That’s the point.”

His hands moved up to her throat, slowly, hesitantly as he tried to imitate what she’d done. His finger traced over her skin, trying to find her adam’s apple. “You don’t have one?”

“Don’t have balls either. Just a girl thing.” she said.

“But you always say I don’t have balls.” He seemed a little confused and distraught, but soon discarded the thought. “Will it still work with girls? If I do what you did?”

“Yes, dummy.”

He fumbled a little longer, his thin fingers wrapped around her throat before he dropped his arms and arched his eyebrows at her… and with them came the other questions

“What about knees?”

“What about eyes?”

“What about ears?”

“What about-”

And she showed him how to throw the sole of her kick to an enemy’s knee. She showed him how to perform a quick eye poke, how to dig in hard with the eye gouge. She showed him how to grab someone by the ears and yank them. She showed him how to throw a throat punch. She showed him, she showed him, she showed him but something deep inside her knew the futility of even considering the martial education she was trying to drill into him.

Because he was soft.

Because the fire that burned in her did not churn the same way inside him.

Because she knew he didn’t wake up in the morning seeing enemies all around him.

She wondered how long he’d last, when he’d leave the orphanage, seven years from now. At least she would be able to say she’d tried when they’d bury him.

[Gangui]

Zipper

Knowledge:

Strength: Crushing a windpipe
Unarmed Combat: Aiming for permanent harm
Unarmed Combat: Eye poke
Unarmed Combat: Fighting dirty
Unarmed Combat: Nutcracker choke
Unarmed Combat: Oblique kick
Unarmed Combat: Striking the ears
Unarmed Combat: Throat Punch
Unarmed Combat: Weak spots of the human body

Points:

15/15

Finn

Knowledge:

Strength: Pushing against Zipper with all your might.
Strength: Trying to push Zipper off of you
Endurance: Bruised after a fight with Marris
Endurance: Starting a fight despite being tired
Unarmed Combat: Throwing an angry punch at Zipper
Unarmed Combat: Knee to the groin
Unarmed Combat: Breaking away from Zipper’s face-hold
Unarmed Combat: Pulling Zipper’s hair
Unarmed Combat: Elbow jabs

Points:

15/15

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Comments:

Fun and easy to read, the flow was great. Good to see the Etzori culture in action with a depiction of how bastard kids grow up. I love seeing this stuff, truly helps world build our Etzori environment, specifically by lending to the development of true Etzori characters. Finn is always getting beat up, lets see him kick some ass in the future!