Quick note-- This would be set in quite early in the game.
Do you recall in the real script, in Galbadia clocktower Rinoa understood
the SeeDs had "prepared themselves" by "emotional training," whether for
following orders to their deaths or finding friends on the enemy's side.
*Some*body had to explain things to her, and it might as well have been the
same boi who stuck up for her in front of the Timber tv station.
The martial artist lightly punched his fists together; cracked his neck left, right, left with easygoing flair; and set his body free in loose bounces. With his energy already revved up, Zell was ready for action.
...While Rinoa just stood there inanimate, a flagpole wedged into the earth by comparison. The would-be resistance fighter watched on while waiting for some sort of direction. "Are you sure this is really okay?"
The wild youth nodded and waved her on fearlessly. "Bring it!"
Rinoa took a deep breath and addressed everything from her step-by- step tutorial. She remembered to readjust her sights after taking a breath lifted her aim by a percentage. Intent on showing off better speed to her coach, she hurried through and fired. Good. Her checklist had gone fairly fluidly.
The circular blade spun off in the direction of her target with only a few yards to close--
--And the animate bishoun hopped out the way without seeming to interrupt his near-random pattern of springs at all. Next he rotated sideways, keeping both object and opponent within corners of his wary view, and sidestepped one more time as the pinwheel passed. He couldn't have appeared more relaxed.
The girl cursed, then went pink-faced. A relieved glance at the grass-covered plains reminded her she had only the primitive barbarian to overhear her slip, and he probably wouldn't give it a second thought himself.
The SeeD didn't say one word to condescend after sliding past her attack as if it was no trouble at all, but his expression couldn't be hid.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he assented amiably. The seasoned soldier gave his footwork a rest and approached a few paes to broach what *he* obviously considered a matter to be embarrassed about. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... You learned everything you know off a *firing range*, didn't you?"
What an insane question. How else were you supposed to learn? You get yourself a *real weapon*, find an open plae far outside of town, set up cheap wood targets and teach yourself how to aim. What other way was there? "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I did."
Zell winced visibly, making his partner more annoyed.
"What's wrong with that?"
He queried, "What do you think Garden's gym looks like?"
Bare slim shoulders shrugged, making her appear even more lean than usual. "Weight-lifting machines, some treadmill equipment. Why?"
"Try guarilla-mode jungle with real monsters and dinosaurs popping out of nowhere, where you could actually die if you're not careful."
That certainly put things in perspective. "Oh."
"Only younger classes train by themselves. In the field, you don't get all the time in the world or enemies that stand still. And the real world has terrain, cover, weather, surprise--" From his enthusiasm, he could have carried on talking about fighting until sundown, or until he got bored and remembered they were out there to really spar, whichever came first.
"Okay, okay, I get the point," she interrupted, a little crossly to think that all her practice had been next to useless. She shifted her feet awkwardly and raised her left hand to brush onyx hair behind her ear. "So what do we do about it?"
They had settled on tag. Modified, non-deadly tag. In long-range versus short-range combat, the hand-to-hand fighter would overpower, but only if he managed to close in on the enemy before being shot down. So they faced off across an open field. Zell pelted forward in a zig-zag pattern, and Rinoa stood her ground and wielded the swift pinwheel -- his wild and confusing swerves against her firing technique.
In this game for the two of them, they knew whoever made first strike would win the advantage if the fight were real, so they didn't bother continuing beyond a box on the arm (in Zell's case, or in hers, a graze) to prove a point. In time, the girl got used to anticipating his maneuvers and managed to nick or clip the fighter with growing frequency. And after he explained the longer she takes to aim the easier it is for him to plan around her shot, she managed to speed up her firing time as well.
Hours later, Rinoa made her cast then crossed her fingers as it missed, boomeranged back on its target's path, and interepted the SeeD. The trainee's heart thrilled, and for a moment she congratulated herself.
But the reality of her comerade's wound snapped the novice to her senses. The boundless teen was weakly stooped over, bearing himself up with so much effort only an elbow braced on his thigh prevented the ground from dragging him down; she could feel its heavy, inescapable pull from her distance. The sticky cloth beneath the rent in his black t-shirt gleamed darker and wet. His breath sputtered, coughed, and then he spat a stream of blood to the grass.
Rinoa chased forwards, but the professional was faster. A hand action aided his concentration, and greenish blue discoloration phased over the wound while indicating healing. In a moment Zell perked right up, with some battle-ready hops for good measure, as eager for another spar or game as if nothing had happened. "It's getting late isn't it?" he asked, apparently noticing the growing dusk for the first time. "Keep going, or pack it in for tonight?"
This was all she could take. "For a minute I was happy I hurt you!"
He looked at her, puzzled. "Yeah, me too. Your speed's improved, and you can squeeze in way more chances to strike--"
"(Shut up! Don't you CARE?)" Hands chopped the air, and her voice wavered. "You came to save my country with the Owls cell. I should be fighting *with* you, not fighting *you*. How do you do it?"
"(She's sure taking this hard.... Guess there must be a lot she's not used to.)" He supplied nonchallantly, "It's called emotional training. They pair you up with a training buddy right off. One day you're rescuing, the next you're attacking. It's the same guy all the time, and they have you keep it up until you don't mind what you have to do, or to who."
"Nothing you have to do bothers you..." she repeated, staring at the over-bright star to emerge early in the sky.
Zell continued as if his next words were part of a conspiracy. "Sure. Not all cadets, though. Squall 'n Seifer, they don't hold back when it comes to fighting, but act all retarded when it comes to heals. If you and I were a real pair, you'd be the opposite, see?"
Rinoa nodded absently, though his words had been fading away into a blurry hum after the two names. At the mention of the one self-possessed gunblader.... "Come on. One more round before it gets too dark." Her tone was resolute.
"Let's make it interesting. Winner gets a free meal?" he grinned.
The girl agreed, but she had larger considerations on her mind. Firm steps brought her back into place in the grassland, and she braced herself.
The last match ended as Zell, unharmed, tagged Rinoa hard in the shoulder and used her height as a springboard for yet another aerodynamic stunt. Along with a victorious whoop, he smugly notified how many hot dogs she would be paying for.
Rinoa let him gloat as they walked together back to camp. She imagined instead the next real battle which she'd face with her dashing gunblader. They'd fight side by side, and she would be much more than what he had seen of her so far....
REVIEW! Liked it? IC/accurate? Say ANYTHING just to let me know you read it. Two seconds would make my day, no joke.
~Happiness and good life~ =)
The martial artist lightly punched his fists together; cracked his neck left, right, left with easygoing flair; and set his body free in loose bounces. With his energy already revved up, Zell was ready for action.
...While Rinoa just stood there inanimate, a flagpole wedged into the earth by comparison. The would-be resistance fighter watched on while waiting for some sort of direction. "Are you sure this is really okay?"
The wild youth nodded and waved her on fearlessly. "Bring it!"
Rinoa took a deep breath and addressed everything from her step-by- step tutorial. She remembered to readjust her sights after taking a breath lifted her aim by a percentage. Intent on showing off better speed to her coach, she hurried through and fired. Good. Her checklist had gone fairly fluidly.
The circular blade spun off in the direction of her target with only a few yards to close--
--And the animate bishoun hopped out the way without seeming to interrupt his near-random pattern of springs at all. Next he rotated sideways, keeping both object and opponent within corners of his wary view, and sidestepped one more time as the pinwheel passed. He couldn't have appeared more relaxed.
The girl cursed, then went pink-faced. A relieved glance at the grass-covered plains reminded her she had only the primitive barbarian to overhear her slip, and he probably wouldn't give it a second thought himself.
The SeeD didn't say one word to condescend after sliding past her attack as if it was no trouble at all, but his expression couldn't be hid.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he assented amiably. The seasoned soldier gave his footwork a rest and approached a few paes to broach what *he* obviously considered a matter to be embarrassed about. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... You learned everything you know off a *firing range*, didn't you?"
What an insane question. How else were you supposed to learn? You get yourself a *real weapon*, find an open plae far outside of town, set up cheap wood targets and teach yourself how to aim. What other way was there? "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I did."
Zell winced visibly, making his partner more annoyed.
"What's wrong with that?"
He queried, "What do you think Garden's gym looks like?"
Bare slim shoulders shrugged, making her appear even more lean than usual. "Weight-lifting machines, some treadmill equipment. Why?"
"Try guarilla-mode jungle with real monsters and dinosaurs popping out of nowhere, where you could actually die if you're not careful."
That certainly put things in perspective. "Oh."
"Only younger classes train by themselves. In the field, you don't get all the time in the world or enemies that stand still. And the real world has terrain, cover, weather, surprise--" From his enthusiasm, he could have carried on talking about fighting until sundown, or until he got bored and remembered they were out there to really spar, whichever came first.
"Okay, okay, I get the point," she interrupted, a little crossly to think that all her practice had been next to useless. She shifted her feet awkwardly and raised her left hand to brush onyx hair behind her ear. "So what do we do about it?"
They had settled on tag. Modified, non-deadly tag. In long-range versus short-range combat, the hand-to-hand fighter would overpower, but only if he managed to close in on the enemy before being shot down. So they faced off across an open field. Zell pelted forward in a zig-zag pattern, and Rinoa stood her ground and wielded the swift pinwheel -- his wild and confusing swerves against her firing technique.
In this game for the two of them, they knew whoever made first strike would win the advantage if the fight were real, so they didn't bother continuing beyond a box on the arm (in Zell's case, or in hers, a graze) to prove a point. In time, the girl got used to anticipating his maneuvers and managed to nick or clip the fighter with growing frequency. And after he explained the longer she takes to aim the easier it is for him to plan around her shot, she managed to speed up her firing time as well.
Hours later, Rinoa made her cast then crossed her fingers as it missed, boomeranged back on its target's path, and interepted the SeeD. The trainee's heart thrilled, and for a moment she congratulated herself.
But the reality of her comerade's wound snapped the novice to her senses. The boundless teen was weakly stooped over, bearing himself up with so much effort only an elbow braced on his thigh prevented the ground from dragging him down; she could feel its heavy, inescapable pull from her distance. The sticky cloth beneath the rent in his black t-shirt gleamed darker and wet. His breath sputtered, coughed, and then he spat a stream of blood to the grass.
Rinoa chased forwards, but the professional was faster. A hand action aided his concentration, and greenish blue discoloration phased over the wound while indicating healing. In a moment Zell perked right up, with some battle-ready hops for good measure, as eager for another spar or game as if nothing had happened. "It's getting late isn't it?" he asked, apparently noticing the growing dusk for the first time. "Keep going, or pack it in for tonight?"
This was all she could take. "For a minute I was happy I hurt you!"
He looked at her, puzzled. "Yeah, me too. Your speed's improved, and you can squeeze in way more chances to strike--"
"(Shut up! Don't you CARE?)" Hands chopped the air, and her voice wavered. "You came to save my country with the Owls cell. I should be fighting *with* you, not fighting *you*. How do you do it?"
"(She's sure taking this hard.... Guess there must be a lot she's not used to.)" He supplied nonchallantly, "It's called emotional training. They pair you up with a training buddy right off. One day you're rescuing, the next you're attacking. It's the same guy all the time, and they have you keep it up until you don't mind what you have to do, or to who."
"Nothing you have to do bothers you..." she repeated, staring at the over-bright star to emerge early in the sky.
Zell continued as if his next words were part of a conspiracy. "Sure. Not all cadets, though. Squall 'n Seifer, they don't hold back when it comes to fighting, but act all retarded when it comes to heals. If you and I were a real pair, you'd be the opposite, see?"
Rinoa nodded absently, though his words had been fading away into a blurry hum after the two names. At the mention of the one self-possessed gunblader.... "Come on. One more round before it gets too dark." Her tone was resolute.
"Let's make it interesting. Winner gets a free meal?" he grinned.
The girl agreed, but she had larger considerations on her mind. Firm steps brought her back into place in the grassland, and she braced herself.
The last match ended as Zell, unharmed, tagged Rinoa hard in the shoulder and used her height as a springboard for yet another aerodynamic stunt. Along with a victorious whoop, he smugly notified how many hot dogs she would be paying for.
Rinoa let him gloat as they walked together back to camp. She imagined instead the next real battle which she'd face with her dashing gunblader. They'd fight side by side, and she would be much more than what he had seen of her so far....
REVIEW! Liked it? IC/accurate? Say ANYTHING just to let me know you read it. Two seconds would make my day, no joke.
~Happiness and good life~ =)