[IC, open to all] Thor Fight Club

[pirateangelbaby]

It's a beautiful spring day in the Nexus, rolling green hills boasting bright splashes of color where flowers have blossomed in all their glory, birds singing in trees sheltered with new green growth, and the sun is shining merrily through puffy white clouds, the breeze only a little on the cool side.

In one of the flatter fields out towards the Wilds, however, things are not quite so peaceful at the moment.

There's an enormous rough ring marked out with scorch marks in the grass, large enough to rival the gladiator arena on Sakaar, and on the edge of the ring there's a cloth laid out with a small variety of weapons that look... well, very second-hand, to put it mildly. But enough to give a good selection of swords or axes or hammers, with a shield or two for protective options.

Thor stands to one side, checking his armor to make sure it's securely fitted before battle, training session or not, and can't quite chase away the grin on his face in favor of a more serious, kingly expression that he probably should be wearing. Learning to compensate for his missing eye is a matter of life and death, probably, whether his or someone else's, but he can't help but feel excited to face something other than a half-assed training dummy shoved into the corner of the cargo hold.

Right, then, who's up for a little sparring with the god of thunder?

Comments

[pirateangelbaby]

Oof. He's too slow to turn and block, and receives a glancing blow on his right flank for his troubles, her sword extending her reach past what he can see of her, and he knocks her blade away too late. First point to Sif, then.

He's not one to dwell on his mistakes in the thick of battle, though, and swiftly counterattacks as he would've back in the training yards of Asgard, finding those cracks in her defense and exploiting them as best he can, his sword scraping along her armored side or sliding down her blade to strike at her wrist. Whether or not she says anything out loud, he can see her cursing herself for her inattention and devoting renewed attention to her form, pressing her advantage where his weakness is more obvious.

It's almost funny, that both of them are so hobbled that their decrease in skill is fairly matched, and Thor can't stop grinning at the irony so that he's not paying enough attention when she gets a solid blow in with the flat of her blade on his blind side, his cheekbone smarting from the impact. Ouch. Now who's not paying enough attention, Thor?

[lady_sif]

She grins at the look on his face when she lands that blow, dancing back out of his reach the next instant. More than anything, this feels like coming home. Sif feels a thrill in her blood as their blades ring upon impact. Thor is fearsome in his power, but she only charges in again and again.

She takes as many hits as she lands, of course. Thor is as skilled as he is strong, and it's the differences in their styles of fighting that really keep things interesting. On top of that, both of them have a nearly-terrifying amount of stamina--this fight could go on for hours, and Sif suspects they just might have in the past.

After a time, she decides to change the game up again. Her one sword becomes two, sliding open with a click and pulling apart at the hilt. She spins them with a flourish and tosses her braided hair. "Shall we try two instead?" she shouts across the field.

[pirateangelbaby]

To Thor, it feels almost like a dance where he's forgotten a step here and there, comfortable and familiar until he stumbles off-rhythm. But that does little to lessen his enjoyment, and even when she strikes him hard enough to leave bruises, it doesn't stop him from grinning at a successful parry, or laughing when he manages to strike her in turn. It feels like home, golden and glorious and nostalgic, and for long moments at a time he can almost forget the roads that led them here and simply embrace the thrill of the fight.

After they've gotten almost too comfortable with the give-and-take of their spar, the added challenge of dual blades is a welcome one, and Thor idly wonders if it's muscle memory that guided her hand or if she'd discovered that her sword could do that by accident, but in the end it doesn't matter. "If you'll let me match you, then gladly," he calls back to her, already mentally decided on his second weapon before he even grabs it. None of his tiny armory matches, so he decides to mix things up even more by choosing a sturdy hand-axe, its curved blade possibly useful in disarming her of her blades, or vice versa if she remembers enough of her drills.