fandomtownies | Streets of Fandom, Wednesday Afternoon

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Streets of Fandom, Wednesday Afternoon

There was a ritual to preparing for battle. Putting on armor, applying stark dark lines of face paint, checking weapons. Octavia had done all of these things before heading outside for the second time today - she'd gone out earlier and promptly turned back for more weapons as soon as the reality of the situation had dawned on her - and she'd practically reveled in them. In her own, quiet way.

Yesterday, she'd shied away from mirrors because of the extreme radiation burn that had taken up most of one side of her face in her reflection.

Today, Octavia felt alive.

Today, she was patrolling the streets. Just like normal, except with more of a sense of purpose. As evidenced by the bright orange spatter on one side of her face, marring the edges of her warpaint, she'd already disposed of a couple of clowns by now, and she had no intention of stopping.

Sometimes, she dragged the tip of her sword behind her against the cobblestones as she walked, metal clanging against stone, calling clowns right to her.

Stealth was no good when you were out for blood.

[ooc: SO OPEN.]

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Beau was very easy to find. Beau also happened to be a very good person to find, Octavia was pretty sure, and that was why she followed the yelling, after a while.

She announced her presence by throwing her sword into the back of a clown that as ambling towards Beau, causing it to topple over onto its face. As you do.

“Nice fuckin’ shot,” Beau yelled. “I mean, I had that one, but shit, nice shot, if that’s what you’re throwing.”

Eh, at least she could return the favor by sending a throwing star into the face of the clown that was shuffling into view off to Octavia’s left.

Indeed she could! Octavia had been holding a knife since immediately after the sword had left it, and now she could use that to slash at the clown's throat for good measure.

She yanked the throwing star out of the clown's face after it had crumpled to the ground, not caring even a little bit about how bloody that made her hand. (Never mind the spray that had come from its neck, obviously. Her face had been a mess for a while already.)

She gave the star a mildly curious look, turning it in her hand. Never used one of those.

Beau flicked a blood-damp lock of hair out of her eyes.

“Amaya made those for me. Pretty fuckin’ sweet, right?”

She was especially pleased with the blue-hued steel.

The star looked well-made and honestly, the blue made it pretty, too. But neither of those thoughts were taking up too much space in Octavia's brain. Not right now.

She looked up. "Are they easy to throw?"

“I think so,” she said with a shrug, and gestured toward the star. “Hang onto that, give it a try if you want to.”

She wouldn’t ordinarily offer, but hey, most people didn’t tend to enjoy this type of action as much as she did either.

“Takes some practice though,” she added. “It’s kinda … sensitive, I guess? Like if you fuck up your aim, it’s not really gonna correct itself.”

"Because it's so small." Octavia turned it over in her hand again. Throwing a sword was precision work too, but she figured throwing stars were on a whole other level. "I'll try with the next one."

Hey, conveniently there was one trying to sneak up on Beau from behind!

“Yeah, pretty much.” Octavia got a nod at that. Most of the time you had to explain the mechanics of an unfamiliar tool or weapon to people who might otherwise grasp the general concept of it, but sometimes there were people who just got it, whether by instinct or training. “You know your weapons, huh?”

"Some of them," Octavia said. She was extremely fond of using as few words as possible today, so there was no telling whether she'd planned to say anything more about it - even before she saw the clown trying to sneak up on Beau. "Duck."

That was all the warning Beau was going to get.

It was all the warning she needed, really. She didn’t usually even get that. In any case, Beau dropped into a (cool looking, she liked to think) crouch, pivoting at the same time to get a look at the clown.

And flipping it off for trying to sneak up on her.

Octavia threw the star. Aiming for the face, hitting... a shoulder.

Goddammit.

Her sword was still on the ground next to Beau, but no matter. Still had the knife, and that meant she felt comfortably enough armed to sprint to a closer distance, to charge at the clown if Beau didn't do it first.

Pfft, as if Beau was going to wait around if there was an opportunity to go in and start hitting, especially if she'd already been facing the right direction.

She launched herself up out of the crouch, barreling forward with her staff braced horizontally in front of her -- she'd meant to crush the clown's windpipe with the attack but she'd aimed a bit high. Which was fine, she wasn't going to object to trying to break the clown's teeth instead, drawing the fight out just a little longer. Although ew, the very distorted clown-makeup smile that smeared off onto her staff was just unsettling if she looked at it too long.

Which wasn't a concern, really; there was other shit to do, like plant one heel solidly in the clown's gut and then whip around with a backhand fist to its temple. That last attack just barely missed, though.

"Fuckin' --"

She wasn't backing away, in any case.

Backing down was for people who didn't run towards danger in the first place!

So, not for Octavia, either. Since she coming around from the side for a slash at the clown's neck.

A sense of self-preservation? What was that?

Beau stepped just out of the way in time to give her room for that attack, swinging her staff around so that it was ready to take the clown out at the knees immediately after that.

In case it wasn't dead yet. Just in case.

The way blood gushed out of the clown's torn throat after Octavia's slash suggested it was probably dead.

But it never hurt to be thorough!

Yeah, Beau was just going to knock it down anyway, right before it sort of evaporated away into nothing.

There was ... a lot of fresh blood sprayed across her face now, too, which didn't stop her from grinning fiercely.

"Dude." She sounded a little more hoarse, probably from yelling at so many clowns today, but still gleeful. "That was fucking awesome." And she held one arm, covered from elbow to knuckles in blood-sodden wrappings, out, hand curled into a fist, for a fist bump.

Octavia gave her one, but it was even more stilted than usual, like she had to really dig to remember how to respond to it.

"You fight well," she noted, as she went to pick up the throwing star and hand it back to Beau.

She was super going to get along with Yasha if they ever met someday.

“You were super fucking badass,” Beau replied, in what could only be described as her rendition of a fangirl tone. “That was fun.”

She glanced down at the throwing star. “You want to hang on to that one? Not like I don’t have more.” Not that she’d ordinarily just give her weapons away, but she had a pretty good feeling it would end up with someone who’d appreciate it properly.

Did Yasha also dabble in some mild dissociation when things got extremely fighty? Because that was probably where Octavia was at, right about now.

"Really?" she said, looking down at her hand as she pulled it back. "Thanks. I'd like to learn."

She did so like throwing things.

Well, she blanked out and went into a detached rage, did that count?

“It’s all yours,” Beau said with a nod. “That was a pretty damn good throw for a first try. I don’t even know where mine ended up. I was kinda hung over at the time, but whatever.”

... It would, actually.

Octavia gave the smallest shrug as she found a place for the star in one of her pockets. After wiping it off on her sleeve, of course. "I've had practice with throwing weapons."

Of which a sword was not traditionally one, but she made it work.

They even had a similar aesthetic thing going on!

“I can tell,” Beau said, not sarcastic at all, actually. “And props for mixing it up and going with the unconventional throwing weapons. For real, that was sick.”

Another time, Octavia would've been able to take that compliment and even maybe feel some manner of pride about getting it. But right now it felt like it barely even registered.

The best she could do was a tiny nod while her eyes were already trying to spot the next threat. "I should keep moving."

Beau gave her a nod and a sort of salute with her staff. “More of these fuckers to hit,” she agreed. “We’ll probably do this again sometime.”

Because there was always going to be some invasion or other, and people like them were always going to be the first ones to jump right into things.

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Streets of Fandom, Wednesday Afternoon

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