wwiii | Grounds of SaDiablo Hall, Friday, Fandom Time (Reply)

Warren had staked out a corner of the grounds all to himself while Karla was inside getting cleaned up and looked after. Now, now that everything was said and done and the daze that he'd been in and out of seemed to be finally slowing down some, seemed as good a time as any to find a place to sit down, hold his head between his hands, and stare at the ground.

There were dozens of other Warrens in dozens of other realities who could get through something like that, get up, and keep going without feeling too much recoil, he was sure.

He... was not one of them.

Lucivar	For a man of Lucivar's size, he could move surprisingly softly when he wanted to. Right now, he wanted to. He'd caught sight of Warren while working out his temper on a pile of firewood and realized that he had a lot to talk about with this young male, the one who was 'together' with Karla. You can thank Ben for that piece of knowledge, Warren. He watched Warren for a little while before speaking. When he did, his voice was kind. "How you doing, boyo?"
Warren	"Hm?" Warren glanced up, took a moment to reassess the situation, and then he shrugged a little, a gesture that was far more shoulder than wing at the moment. "Could be better, I suppose." A pause, and then a deep breath, and then another shrug. "Worried." Not quite able to get the memories of those bloodbaths out of his head.
Lucivar	"About your damn fool girlfriend?" Lucivar asked mildly.
Warren	"Among other things," Warren replied. And then Warren's mind caught up with his mouth, which led to a wry sort of smile. Busted, huh? "But yes."
Lucivar	Lucivar's answering grin seemed to suggest that, yes. "Feel like sharing any of it?" Lucivar asked. It didn't take someone with centuries of fighting experience to tell that Warren wasn't a fighter. If what happened at Agio was taking a toll on him, then he could only imagine what it was doing to someone like Warren. "We can chat a bit before moving on to grilling you about Karla."
Warren	"I'm not really very good at talking," admitted Warren with a small shake of his head. "But I think I'm going to have to get over that, huh?" So that he could put off being grilled for as long as possible, yes.
Lucivar	"Considering anything else you intend to do with your mouth around Karla is just going to get you in trouble, I'd say yes," Lucivar said dryly. Eyriens and bluntness. They went together like chocolate and peanut butter! Only usually caused a lot more property damage. "Besides, if you let it fester inside, it's just going to eat away at you. Probably be better to talk it out now, before you get badgered to death about it later."
Warren	Warren went quiet for a moment, eyes on the ground, holding his breath. Or maybe he was forgetting to breathe. One of those. "That was..." God, this was hard. "I mean, it..." Very, very hard. "I never want to see anything like that again." Mmm, vague.
Lucivar	"I don't think any of us do, and I've seen some pretty awful things over the past seventeen hundred years," Lucivar admitted. Had done a lot of them, too, but that wasn't the point.
Warren	"It never really goes away, does it? When you close your eyes." The nightmare fuel never did seem to leave. It had a funny way of choking out the happy moments until there wasn't much left.
Lucivar	"It gets less immediate," Lucivar said, which was only reassuring when you ignored the fact that that meant, no, they never went away. "Sometimes you grow inured to it, even. Other times, well, you cling to what you love, like a beacon in the Darkness." He shifted a little, coming a little too close to poetry than he was comfortable with. "Any part in particular that stands out?" There were any number of horrible things that could be eating at Warren right now.
Warren	"Bodies," Warren murmured. "Pink mist. My really unfortunate tendency to get attacked by psychopaths with meat hooks." That was a pretty specific one.
Lucivar	Lucivar actually gave him a quick look with the last one. "That happen to you often?" he asked.
Warren	"You'd be surprised," came Warren's reply, barely a mumble as his gaze hit his knees. "The official tally is two, now." In a matter of months. That was more than he'd ever thought he'd have to worry about it. Because there are some things you just never think you're going to have to worry about. Ever.
Lucivar	"Did the first incident happen at your school?" Lucivar asked lightly, his thoughts still preoccupied with what Dinah had told him.
Warren	Warren shook his head a little. Nope. Not at the school. "An underwater city called Rapture," he said, and then bit his lip for a moment. "Not exactly the greatest of vacation spots." Funny, too, how everybody that ever managed to skewer him with those things so far seemed to wind up very, very dead? Granted, they were kind of bringing it upon themselves, but...
Lucivar	At least the school didn't have hook-wielding psychopaths on top of giant scorpions and whatever the Hell else Dinah had mentioned. "Doesn't sound like it," Lucivar agreed. "What happened to the people who attacked you?"
Warren	"The first time? Somebody else stepped in. Slammed her head into a wall and," after Warren had removed the hook from his guts, "then we got out of there. Fast. This time, I..." This time, he... was tapering off and curling his wings around himself, trying to hunker down as deeply into them as possible. OhGodOhGod he'd killed him OhGod... Not even out of high school yet, and he'd worked up a body count.
Lucivar	"You killed him." It was a comment completely devoid of judgment, though it had its fair share of compassion. "The first time is always the hardest." Tact had gone the way of judgment, it seemed. "You weren't raised to fight, were you?"
Warren	The first time. Assuming that there was going to be a next time. That it would be easier to do again. Warren didn't like it, didn't like the bitter taste that it left in his mouth. "I wasn't raised to do much of anything." Paperwork. He could do paperwork like a real champ.
Lucivar	"What do you want to do?" In this, Lucivar was generally interested. Not that he hadn't been interested in Warren's other answers, but he realized he didn't know much about this male that Karla seemed so attached to.
Warren	"I want..." Damn, Lucivar was asking difficult questions, now. Warren bit his lip for a moment, and then he shook his head a little. "At this point, I'd settle for seeing enough of the world to be able to figure out what I want." Deep breath. "Flying was a good start."
Lucivar	"Funny how things get clearer the higher up you go," Lucivar agreed. He regarded Warren steadily for a few moments, weighing him on some kind of invisible, intangible scale. "You're still trying to figure out who you are, never mind who you wish to be. In the meantime, you're courting my little sister's best friends and one of the strongest Queens in Kaeleer." Lucivar gave a short bark of a laugh and nodded. "Up you go, puppy. Follow me."
Warren	Well, Warren supposed there were worse names to be called than 'puppy.' He chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment regardless, but that wasn't about to stop him from pulling himself to his feet, either. Being weighed and measured was nothing new to him, really. Neither was that nagging, almost desperate need to be good enough. And somehow, measuring up to Lucivar's expectations was a goal that he was very anxious to meet. "Where to...?"
Lucivar	It was a term of endearment! Ask the other boyos! They've all been called puppy at least a few times. "To the practice grounds," Lucivar announced, calling in a pair of unbladed Eyrien sticks. "I'll even give you three reasons why you will." The 'Because I told you to' was implied. "One: knowing how to defend yourself properly is important. Two: knowing how to protect her is even more important, at least by our reckoning. Three: She's going to need some gentle exercises to help build back all that muscle she's lost, and drilling and sparring with you is a good way to make sure she doesn't push herself to hard." He gave Warren a lazy grin. "And the bonus fourth reason? You might be able to push that promised grilling back for a few hours."
Warren	Warren's mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile as Lucivar listed off the reasons, and his gaze travelled over the sticks almost curiously. Oh, he was going to get beaten on good, wasn't he? "Those are all pretty compelling reasons," he admitted, not quite able to take his eye off of the training weapon of choice today. "Lead on, then."
Lucivar	Oh yes. Yes he was. For 'his own good' and everything! Lucivar led Warren to the practice field, tossing the stick to the younger male as he did. "First, I'm going to show you some drills," he explained. "Then, I'm going to attack you in such a way as to make you understand why you drill that way. If you learned the drills well enough, you'll be able to fend me off." Well, 'fend.'
Warren	Really, it was all in how you interpreted it, right? Warren eyed the stick in his hand for a moment, gave it a bit of an experimental swing to get a feel for it. Yep. It was totally a stick. "I think I can handle that." Famous last words.
Lucivar	The amused glance Lucivar shot him suggested his thoughts were trending along the same line as the narrative above. "Your grip would work if that were some kind of walking stick, but it's not," Lucivar explained, letting the personal of trainer take over. No more jokes or amusement that the student could take as being at his expense. No more sympathy, either, because that easily became coddling. Just cool professionalism, with both praise and criticism doled out as needed. "Move your hands here." Lucivar showed Warren where his hands were on his own stick. "Keep your grip firm and steady, but not overly tight. You don't want your hands to cramp."
Warren	Firm and steady. Warren could handle that, and he did so, following Lucivar's lead. "Like this?" If nothing else, at least he was a quick study.
Lucivar	"Good," Lucivar said with a nod. "Now let's adjust your stance. Feet shoulder's width apart, knees slightly bent. Nothing in your body should be tensed or tight. That can foul you up." He shot a significant look at Warren's wings. "Your wings can help you balance, but again, they have to be a little loose. Don't make them too big a target, unless you want someone aiming for them, but they can help you in a fight if you need them." He held his stance for a few moments, letting Warren mirror it as best he could. "Don't forget your grip on the stick."
Warren	Feet, knees, relax, wings. Okay. He was good. He was following! ... He was fixing his grip again. Don't get distracted. Don't get distracted. Okay. "Right. I think I have it." He was pretty sure. He'd used his wings in a fight before. If Lucivar hadn't told him that wings could be useful that way, the Discovery Channel totally would.
Lucivar	Lucivar eyed him critically, making minor adjustments here and there to Warren's stance before nodding in approval and taking a step back. "So, your stick. It can be used for offense or defense and for all that it's thin and fairly light, it's made of ironwood, which means it's durable and packs a nasty punch. Even a light graze will sting like a bitch if you're not careful." As Warren would almost certainly be finding out today, oh yes. "The easiest defensive maneuver is to simply deflect whatever's coming at you away. Deflect high left--" he brought his left hand up, keeping his right hand exactly where it had been, so anything aiming at his face would be stopped by a length of wood, "--deflect high right--" same thing, save with hands reverse, "--deflect low left--" again, his left hand moved, only this time it went down, forming a protective line across his midsection, "--and deflect low right." He demonstrated these simple moves several times, always bringing the stick back across his chest in the first stance he'd shown Warren. "So your first drill is to do all four of those moves, without breaking your stance." He waved a hand at Warren. "Get to it."

Bobby	There were Warrens of all sorts throughout the multiverse, but only one that Bobby was concerned with right now. "Hey," he greeted, sliding in to a seat next to Warren and bumping shoulders lightly.
Warren	It was crazy how a shoulder-bump could earn a little bit of a smile, wasn't it? Such was the power of Bobby. Secondary mutation? "Hey," Warren replied, swaying a bit at the shoulder bump, and then leaning to bump right back. "How are you holding up?" ... That wasn't your line, Warren.
Bobby	"I'm okay." He was also lying through his teeth, but didn't particularly want to burden Warren with his own issues. "Also I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be the one asking you that."
Warren	"I thought I'd beat you to it," came Warren's not so enthusiastic answer. "To mix things up a bit." It had seemed more appealing than just leaping into a long rant about how worried he was, and about how much all of that had bothered him. And about insane girls, too. Mustn't forget the insane girls.
Bobby	Wouldn't want me to get complacent," Bobby agreed with a nod. ...He'd probably have a word or two of his own to say about insane girls, if Warren ever got around to that.
Warren	"Complacency really doesn't suit you, Bobby," Warren agreed. "Next time, you'll have to come up with some new and exciting way to beat me to the punch, just to keep things fresh." But not too fresh. If you please.
Bobby	"I'll develop psychic powers," Bobby promised. "Just to mess with you." Warren really needn't worry about Bobby getting too fresh with him, though. That sort of thing would stay in the subtext where it belonged.
Warren	Oh, delicious subtext... "So that you can take one look at me and know exactly when I need to be reassured that my shoes do match my tie?" Oh, there was no nervousness in that statement at all. After all, it wasn't as though somebody with psychic powers hadn't already had a romp through his head in the past, intentional or otherwise.
Bobby	"Precisely," Bobby nodded. As if Warren would ever need fashion-based reassurance from Bobby Drake. This was the boy who'd grow up to be the guy who considered Hawaiian-print shirts acceptable superhero attire. And wouldn't Warren just be terribly reassured by the fact that 'someone with psychic powers' had apparently set up camp in Bobby's subconscious? Which was precisely why Bobby was never planning on telling anyone about that ever, thanks.
Warren	"Well, in the meantime, you're going to just have to settle for beating me to the punch," Warren decided, wonderfully oblivious to any subconscious Emmas who might happen to be floating about. "I think you can handle it, Bobby. Tricky as that might be."
Bobby	"Let's not forget keeping your ego in check," Bobby pointed out with a smirk. "That's a talent, not a superpower. It requires constant practice to keep me in top form."
Warren	"Well, I have a lot to be egotistical about," Warren replied with a sniff as he put his nose up in the air. "It's difficult to be humble when you're this perfect, you know." The way the corners of his mouth were twitching, it was probably at least a little apparent that he was trying to wrestle down a smile. He'd needed this.
Bobby	So had Bobby, actually. Making jokes, helping people remember that there were still things to smile about, even when the world was falling to pieces around them, that was what he did. "Yeah, perfectly insufferable," Bobby stuck his tongue out at Warren. So insufferable that he was friends with two of them, yeah.