OPEN. — i knew that something would always rule me

[avicula]

WHO: dutch + you
WHERE: the training deck, a bar?
WHEN: dutch's first week aboard
WHAT: dutch needs sparring and possibly drinking buddies
WARNINGS: none yet, will edit if necessary

[ the eluvio is considerably larger than dutch’s own ship, designed to hold a great many more people and to remain in space for far longer periods of time, or so dutch guesses. this is not the kind of ship that can dock at a planet or a moon like lucy’s docked on westerley. in size, it’s more like the rac cruiser or one of the slaver ships travelling the j and beyond. it doesn’t seem to be a slaver ship, at least, but dutch is still on edge, displeased with her displacement and her current situation as a whole. that explains why she’s found her way to the eluvio’s training deck, too: fingers wrapped, feet bare and non-descript athletic clothing on the rest, she’s been punching and kicking a punching bag for a while now, working up a sweat and settling in a steady rhythm of jabs that is broken up by kicks. she’s light on her feet, but her mind feels heavy, some of the same thoughts recurring over and over.

she didn’t get a choice about being here, and if those who’ve come before her are to be believed, no one knows how to get back yet. it’s just another event in a long line of events that dutch never got a say in, and she’s so tired of decisions being made or things happening that impact her like this. she’s tired of it, and it comes out in anger, simmering under her skin and making her punch just this much harder.

johnny left. that’s another things that she keeps coming back to. he’s been her moral compass ever since she’d run away, he’s been her gravity and her centre when she’s been lost, her best friend through it all, and he left instead of letting her ride shotgun on whatever train he’s gotten on. she wants to punch him for that, too, and yell at him, and she wants to hug him because he’s a stupid bloody idiot who won’t let others carry any weight for him even if they offer. because he left.

she can’t punch or hug johnny, right now — or she could, he's here, and maybe she will, but for now, she's punching this bag instead. she really can’t turn back time and make it so that the anomaly or whatever it was never picked her up and spit her out on this ship in a corner of space dutch has never seen or heard of. she can’t, and so she keeps punching the bag, hoping to at least drain some of the anger so that she’ll be able to think more clearly. ]

[ additional starters in the comments! if you'd like something specific, hit me up at abiosis ]

Comments

[avicula]

[ dutch is pretty sure she'll win. it's not arrogance or overconfidence when she's been trained to win fights (to kill) all her life, when she's gone up against those stronger and faster than her and still been the last one standing. that's not the kind of outcome she's looking for here, though, and she refuses to let her past ruin her fun right now. ]

If I win, you have to buy me a drink. How's that.

[ she could have just said you don't get your shirt back, but since he asked - well. a drink sounds pretty good. it'll sound even better after what's going to happen in six minutes, but neither one of them can foresee that. ]

[dominance]

[ that's not exactly the line he's used to hearing on the ark or the ground. it's never "buy", but "owe", like he's somehow become the distiller of the camp when that's been monty green's skill. he gets the basic gift of it; gina had used to say things along those lines, using his time as though it was currency. ]

[ he doesn't think of gina right now. he doesn't think of lincoln or monroe, either. ]

[ after a short moment, ] Fine.

[ he glances down at his shirt, as if he wants to grab it, but leaves it where it is. he feels tired enough that he knows his desire to pack up and drop on his bed would be seen as the perfect opportunity from lincoln to try and teach him how to defend himself again. ]

[ so he walks along the mat, turning back to face her. lincoln's first rule: never underestimate anyone based on size. bellamy's never had to be told by anyone never to underestimate women. the best fighter he knows is his sister. ] If my shirt's creased, you owe me.

[avicula]

[ dutch is no stranger to obligation or debt, not even to a barter system, but she's a killjoy — literally taken, the name means someone who kills for money, since joy is the currency she's used to. dutch doesn't take kill orders, but she's killed plenty. never for money — but that's a whole other story, and not something she particularly likes thinking about. point is, money and buying shit like drinks is far superior to owing someone something. ]

And just what will I owe you?

[ not underestimating dutch because of her size is a smart move; lincoln's clearly been a good teacher. dutch shifts her weight onto the balls of her feet; that's all the warning bellamy will get before she attacks, some punches that aren't too hard. to see what he's got. ]

[dominance]

[ she saves him from saying what would otherwise be, in any other world from anyone else who hasn't been dropped into a pit of war upon war, a suave pick-up line. ]

[ lincoln's a great teacher, but bellamy's still a student. he's too aggressive, as lincoln had said, and so when she springs into attack, he's not as quick as a grounder warrior is to defend. his fighting has always relied on having a gun in his hand to either shoot or hit with, and without one, he's a little naked — more than he literally is right now. ]

[ he makes a sound — she's managed to at least take him by surprise by her speed of attack — when she hits him, but he's quick to recover. he doesn't try to swing at her, but instead attempts to kick her feet out from under her. he's got strength and height, she's got her slender frame and litheness. ]

[avicula]

[ dutch has been trained to fight, to kill almost her whole life. his surprise and the reaction make his comparative inexperience obvious enough to her, but this isn't about winning necessarily, and it doesn't have to be about the challenge of going up against someone who matches or exceeds her. sometimes, fighting is just about the motions, and dutch all but dances out of the way of his kick.

she's been trained as a dancer as long as she's been trained as a killer, though never as extensively.

two minutes before the lights will go out, she's spinning on one foot, the other extended toward bellamy's side. ]

[dominance]

[ her foot connects with bellamy, knocking him down. lincoln may have been quick enough to assess the type of fighter bellamy was — aggressive, which was then powered by emotion which made him slightly unfocused — and put it to words, bellamy had grown used to lincoln. he'd take it a little easy on him, especially when demonstrating to the kids. bellamy's used to going toe to toe with lincoln without a rifle in his hands, and perhaps that's what unbalances him most — there's nothing in his grip that makes him feel remotely confident. ]

[ but it's all good, because when bellamy hits the ground, he doesn't feel chaffed by any loss. he looks up at the ceiling, catching his breath that's been knocked out of him when he hit the mat. ]

[ all in good humour, ] Guess you're getting that drink.

[avicula]

Or we could go another round or two.

[ bellamy hits the ground, and a moment later dutch is there holding her hand out to help him up. if it gives her a nice view of his pecs and stomach, well, that's a side benefit, and not one she's going to complain about. he's a good looking bloke, and dutch isn't blind.

she'd also just getting warmed up. (okay, no, that's a lie, she's done her warm-up a while ago.) ]

I could even promise to go easier on you this time. [ but honestly? she'll gladly take the drink, too. and she'll even return his shirt before making him buy it for her — or she would, but before he's made any kind of decision (but probably after he's back on his feet), the lights go out. ]

The hells is going on?