Jun 14 12:29:04 106 PA - Ema's pound of flesh
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Tue Jun 14 12:29:04 106 PA.
It's just after noon at Harry's gym, and the place has a reasonable sized crowd, though most of it seems to be contained to the various machines in the main room. Ema, however, is working a bag near the sparring ring, warming up as she waits for her partner of the day to show. Padded sapper-style gloves adorn her fists as the smack the bag, though that noise pales in comparison to the quick kicks that occassionally send the weighted bag flying.
The designated partner and/or replacement bag emerges from the changing rooms, properly attired in his unflattering athletic apparrel. It isn't much of a feat for Leonard to seek and find her already beating upon something. He observes for a moment or three before greeting. "Afternoon, Ema." Perhaps if he had waited long enough, she may have worn herself down, first.
Ema's hand comes out to steady the bag as it swings back her way, her head turning to regard Leo, her face oddly devoid of a smile, "I'd almost hoped you'd not show up." she says simply, looking the young man over, "Didn't bring any moral support?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint,but I do enjoy my appendages where they are." Leonard does not appear especially apologetic, and shakes his head. "No, it's just the two of us, or as much as it can be, here."
Ema shrugs, not seeming to care if their is an audiance or not, "Your loss then, I guess. You'll no doubt be wishin you had someone to walk you home." a smirk finds her lips now, and she glances over at the ring, where two fighters look about ready to call it quits. "Looks like we have a minute or two before the ring opens up, you need to warm up?" a slight tinge of sarcasm is in her voice, and her attention shifts to her towel on the ground, which she picks up and uses to dab at her face.
Leonard returns her smirk. "I doubt it will last long enough to strain anything important, but I'm thankful for your concern. You are more than welcome to tire yourself beforehand as much as you wish, however." A hand motions to the bag that was the recent recipient of her attention, before he adds, with his own dollop of wit, "Unless you'd prefer some pleasant conversation over drinks?"
She's having none of that, however, "I think a muscle strain is going to be the least of your worries," she remarks offhandedly, "But I want to make sure you're putting up your best. I feel that you're heart isn't in this, and it's only going to get worse for you." she shrugs then, eyes over to the ring where one combatant is getting pushed back into a corner, his opponent unrelenting in his attack. Ema lets the drinks comment slide, and she's more serious than you've ever seen her.
"Do I expect to enjoy this?" Leonard asks, offhand and rheotorically as he looks to those already in the ring. "Of course not. You'll still get your fight, your blood, and, if you're good enough, your prize. As amusing as it would be to wrap you in a bubble and walk away, it would also be anticlimactic."
This comment causes Ema to arch an eyebrow, a wild look washes over her face briefly as she seems to consider something, "Oh, i'd be open to fight of that variety, if you'd prefer." she says as her eyes lock on you, "A little duel outside of the city limits? All our abilities fair game, and all that." Her head tilts as she smirks, "You like that better?" Her attention is focused, and she doesn't see the match in the ring conclude as one man hits the canvas.
Leonard considers that a moment and lifts his own brow. "I thought you wished to keep appearances? Besides, that could be exceptionally less gentle, Ema. Granting you a challenge is one thing," his current neutrality softens, "seeing you in pieces is another."
"Fuck appearances, then" she says, grinning happily, "You think you can you hang with the big dogs, then I want to see this bad ass Leo." her arms cross before her as she grins, wildness and excitement in her eyes, "I want to see if your confidence is founded in anything," she lets out a little laugh, "And if I can take you, I can deal with any fallout your lil girl might try to bring." her eyes are wide and black, eyebrows high on her head as waits, gaze flickering only momentairly towards the ring.
"No." A single, simple, and firm reply before Leonard pointedly turns his gaze from her to the ring. There is little to observe now that the other match has concluded, but he regards it for some time, anyhow. "It isn't worth it."
Ema's fist lights up as crackles of energy streak out to form two long claws which are out just long enough for a point to be made, "Not for you, for sure." she says simply, tossing her towel to the side before climbing up into the ring, "I'm gonna make you wish you wish you'd went for the street fight." she says as she chuckles, bouncing on the springy canvas as she awaits your entrance.
Leonard steps after and clambers his way between the ropes. "Well, at least we're in agreement, again." Once in the ring, he finally takes a symbolic stretch by rolling his shoulders. To say that he then bounces about in eager preparedness would be far too kind an exagerration. Instead, he simply assumes a passable stance and lifts his arms in reasonably decent positioning. "I'm not feeling very wishful, yet."
Ema's eyes close a minute as she takes a deep breath, and then another, any hint of tension seeming to melt away. Her eyes open and her face is once against a stoic mask, all business as she rolls her fingers into fists, her left foot sliding in front of her right as she takes her stance. She refuses to be taunted, at least yet, and approaches with a quick shuffle step, her feet never crossing. Once in range she jabs out a few times, testing, "Soon, though." she offers, "soon."
Leonard is not likely a pugilist, but nor is he completely naive. Not in this, that is. He is able to do three vital things that may have been doubted, at least in a testing scenario. Foremost is getting a fist and forearm up to deflect, the second is not yelping immasculinely when a block is too slow, and the third is the ability to not trip over his feet as he moves about. Oh, and maybe there's a fourth, as her jabs are met with a firm right cross. He promised a fight, and she'll get one. Right up to whatever facsimile of one can be offered.
Ema bats away the cross with her left hand, coming at you again, feigning low, then coming up to strike near your ribs, "A little fight in ya?" she asks, not smiling still as she dances about the ring, "Come on, at least try." she taunts and teases, her strikes soft and tentative, more to annoy then hurt.
The unexpected was perhaps his only strength, and already Leonard has spent it. His ribs cushion her blow nicely, but the lack of force behind it draws a smirk. "I'll try a little more, then. Just for you." He presses forward after her, despite her further blows. If she's going to play soft, he can try to take some advantage of it. Jabs of his own are launched as he attempt to use the confines of the ring to limit her dancing about. His punches aren't especially powerful, but he's not pulling them, either.
Ema lets a few blows land, hoping to amp herself up, but the lack of force is hard for her to let go. Frustration ripples over her face as her lips are pulled tight, her attacks becoming serious. If small jabs at his ego won't work, the threat of pain sure might. Small kicks at the shin follow small hooked punches to the kidney area, attacks meant to hurt, but not knock out.
Leonard blinks, right about the time he winces, to be quickly followed by a grunt or two. If it was pain that she wanted, she's certainly found some. Some is right there at his shins from the kicks he probably should have expected, since he watched to attack the bag. Most of it, however, is from the kidney punches. His stance changes into a curling lean as he favors first one side, reconsiders, then leans the other way. "There. That's a little more.. nngh.. like it. Are you tired yet?" His question is on the order of 50% wit and 50% earnest hope.
Ema dances back a bit, fingers splaying out before balling back up into fists, her head moving as she stretches her neck, left then right. Still no hint of humor or amusement on her face, "Are you even trying?" she chides, "Maybe I should go track down that sweet little lady of yours," fists coming at chest and head this time, "See if maybe she can put up fight.'
"Isn't it obvious?" Leonard asks while trying to keep his guard up as opposed to, say, hugging his sides. "Of course I am, since I haven't fallen down, yet." His face tightens from more than the discomfort after her quip, then curls to smirk. "She'd put..." Were her goal to be distraction as well as pain, Ema gets another check mark. Chest blows are still defendable with his slightly lowered guard, so he's forced to parry the higher blows deftly with his face.
Never relenting she comes in again and again, "I wasn't even trying. I think that bag put up more of a fight. I think Vix is definately next, when I'm done with you." her words are spit out, only slightly hindered by her breath, which is barely labored. Her attacks are a mix of mean and win, focusing small kicks at your right knee, and balancing them with attempted blows to the head.
Leonard finally gets his arms up, which leaves his knee wide open. Although he could, in theory, deliver a properly executed kick, much beyond that is, well, beyond him. "This isn't about her, you leave her out of this!" The command is slightly muffled by arms and fists, but still much more harsh and solid that his defenses. Or his stance, for that matter, since the knee finally gives way with a yelp and he crumples down onto it, which sparks another pained cry.
"Or what?" she kicks out at your chest to knock you back before bouncing back and waiting for you to get up, "You'll bleed on me?" she shakes her head, frowning, "Nah, I think she's desert." she motions for you to stand and come out on the offensive, "Would you like that, Leo? You two would have something bond about." anger seems to occasionally seep through her expression, even as she taunts.
Leonard flops unceremoniously onto his back, and might stay there were it not for her threats. "Damnit, Ema, she'd just ...shoot you." He is anything but quick in getting up, but he does manage to rise. Not much remains of what little stance he held, with nearly all his weight shifted off the favored knee. A hobbled step is the extend of his advance, but offense is still there, if only in his glare and set jaw despite the pain. "This is my fight, not hers. Lay a finger on her, and you'll live to regret it. For a while."
Ema's form shimmers as a translucent white sheen covers her body, her smile genuine as she advances, "Whats a shot or two to someone like me?" she almost laughs the words, "I live for that shit." a kick out to the left knee is followed by her elbow rushing towards your head, "And you don't seem to have the fight to back up your words," she spits, head turning to the side so that you're not hit, "So quit tempting me."
So much for favoring one leg over the other. The other knee buckles easily with all the weight upon it, and Leonard is dropped to the canvas. Instead of yelp, he just growls. "A few fingers, Ema, that's all it takes. You think about that before you do anything, since you claimed you're doing that. One gesture, one word, and you'll wake up in the middle of a jungle somewhere with no thoughts left but climbing trees and eating bananas."
"Blah blah blah" she laughs, pouncing on you, fist coming down towards your face, "What good is your pathetic Magic if you can't speak? Or if you can't see?" she's in your mind, then, telepathy finishing her thought, -your mind is my playground-. Relentless she is at that, wanting to finish this fight that hasn't been nearly as entertaining or gratifying as she'd hope. She'll attack till you go limp, and take from you her prize, though the thrill that usually accompanies such things is absent.
