A Monk Meeting

Log Info

• Title: A Monk Meeting
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Simony
• Place: Fate's Spire
• Time: April 14th, 2023
• Summary: Simony finds Aryia mildly trespassing for a workout and has a conversation about training.

Fate's Spire, Late Morning.

A fair weather day crests even the highest of mountains. Windy, of course, as always, but at least the sun breaks through to help ease the chill. However, this usually cozy monastery has a bit of excitement out of the usual peaceful and meditative times.

Every now and then, going from cell to cell, a Navosian knocks on the door and murmurs something to the other side. Eventually, it reaches a certain albino gobber's abode. "Temperance Smithsdottir. We are convening outside. There is... some mul'neissa woman is sitting upon the apex of the spire," they inform before leaving to go to the next.

The Goblin is slow to reach the door, dressed in copper-coloured pajamas, and she watches the fellow Navosian continue on their duty. "To risk my absence being noticed but get in more sleep, or not.", she mumbles, befor letting out a sigh.

Silently stalking the Spire on bare feet, she steps outside, moving towards the congregating adherents. Simony peers up, squinting, looking for the wayward Mul.

There aren't many adherents outside, seemingly Simony's ponderings to go back to sleep has had the minor alert dwindle to a mildly amused showing. Vardamites and Navosians, just a handful, are discussing how best to reach such a figure, while the Korite guards have hands on bows.

Way, way, way up on high, at the apex, is indeed a mul'neissa woman. What could she be doing? Breaking into the sacred halls? Or worse, destroying it?

On the contrary, none of that. Bizarrely, she isn't doing much at all, save for dangling off a spike that juts from the spire by her legs, and doing... is she just doing crunches? She's working out.

One Navosian comments, "The least she could do is inform us instead of clambering up there."

GAME: Simony rolls athletics: (8)+1: 6

Simony eyes the others gathered, and then looks up at the woman doing crunches. Another sigh escapes her, and she starts up the tower. Her ascent to glory doesn't last long, as her foot slips. She dangles by her fingertips for a short bit, before dropping to the ground with a thud, absorbing the impact with her behind.

She groans then, pain evident on her face, and she gestures harshly as a few move to assist her. Gingerly she gets to her feet, rubbing at her backside. Grumpy now, she inhales, and then shouts. "HEY! Could you come down, please!?"

The woman doing crunches stops as Simony thuds into the ground. She dangles for a moment before pulling a green jacket off the spike beside her, donning it upside-down, and buckling it closed before she lets go.

Wait, lets go? She's falling! Very fast! It's barely a few seconds to start to realize her fate before she simply does a twist in the air, spins, then lands feet first on the ground with a >thud<, knees bent.

She exhales Out.

Standing before Simony is a heavily scarred mul'neissa woman in a green buckle jacket, a pair of shades hiding a pair of glowing eyes. Moon hued hair pulled into a pony tail, it whips about from the wind as she cranes her head down. And /stares/.

Simony watches with open mouth as the dangling woman takes her jacket, and after donning it, drops to the ground from the top.

Her surprise turns to amazement as the Mul simply twists and spints in the air, landing perfectly on her feet. The Gobbo looks the woman up and down, amazement turning to awe.

"That .. is certainly some feat of ... derring do, to drop down from such a height, as if dismounting from your bed.", she offers in a small voice. Which gets smaller the longer the Mul'neissa stares. She swallows once, and steps forward, offering up her hand. "Simony Smithsdottir.", she offers up. "We were wondering if you might polish up the top of the spire, since you were up there anyways."

The mul continues to stare. Quiet. Silent. Judging, even. Shining eyes behind the shades flick to the extended hand. She moves, a hand digging into a jacket pocket before proffering a piece of paper. It reads in faded ink:

'I am Aryia.'

The hand is taken.

It's like holding a vice grip of calloused steel.

The Goblin leans forward a little to squint at the handwriting on the paper, having left her pince-nes back in her room. There is recognition in her eyes as she shakes the Monk's hand. While her grip is no where near Aryia's, her hands bear a similar pattern of abuse: thicker skin, scarring, and thicker knuckles. Her forearms also have seen lots of abuse.

Simony holds up her hands, and in small, precise handsigns, says, "Hello Aryia. It is an honour to meet you." She claps her hands together, and bows deeply.

Aryia folds the paper away and stashes it back into its pocket, her brows knitted from the signs and... bowing?

Seeing as the woman is no longer mildly trespassing, the other studied folk file back into the building, but the Korites idle about.

She gives them a side eye before looking back down at Simony. "Why an honor? I stole your tower for a workout routine," she gestures back. <Handspeech>

The Goblin giggles, and shrugs. "Maybe some of them were upset, but they certainly did not want to challenge you on it. Mostly because they had no idea how to get up to you. So that said, it's probably not a big deal. I only yelled to get your attention. Initially out of concern, but your dismount dispelled any concern I had." She watches her compatriots and neighbours file back into the Spire and she lets out a sigh.

"You are known to us, here. Monks aspire to your skill and strength. The Stare, as it's come to be known as, is practiced informally, despite the master's irritation." <Handspeech>

Aryia slowly blinks, watching the gestures. Only for her eyes to widen briefly before she shakes her head in disbelief. "... what the fuck are you talking about?" she gestures bluntly, still giving The Stare. "I don't even know what this place is. I just saw it when running the mountains and figured it would be a good place to take a quick break." <Handspeech>

The Goblin's ears turn slightly red, and she shrugs. "It's the Navosian temple. Also, a monastery for Navosian and Vardaman monks." She tilts her head to the Korian's. "A few Korians too."

Simony smiles faintly. "You are unaware that people recognize you, that you have those who would follow you, who would fight for the chance to train under you? You don't go unrecognized after punching so many things." She again offers a deep bow.

"Are you hungry?" <Handspeech>

Aryia quirks her head to the side, looking off to the building beside them before turning back to the Korians. They look itching for a scrap.

The mute ignores them, returning back to Simony's gestures. Her expression shifts from confusion to deeper perplexion. "I understand I am very fucking good at punching things. But I didn't realize those I train at the Colosseum end up out here."

A beat. "Not really," she bluntly motions. "Can you cut the honorable shit? I'm not some clergy or noble that has to get their ass kissed with bows and titles." She is... very vulgar. <Handspeech>

Simony's ears blush further, and she nods slowly. "Right, I can do that." She lets out a breath. "Perhaps not everyone, but it is likely there are a number who have joined up due to your influence. May I ask, since I was asleep at the time, how you got to the top of the Spire?"

Aryia crosses her arms, resting on her back foot as she leans against the base of the spire. The information that she is causing people to join up gets a brow to rise, but the question gets her to uncross her arms to 'talk'.

"I ran and jumped," she explains. "To put it simply. Little bit more than that goes on, but the city's ward fucks me up when I try to go really fast." The mul pauses, her looking up to the top of the spire, her jagged-scarred throat on full display. "I can show you, if you want." <Handspeech>

The Goblin looks a bit shy as Aryia seems to perhaps be .. annoyed, but the answer to her question is greeted with a smile, and then an enthusiastic nod. Yes please!" Simony glances up at the spire, and then to the Monk. "How much of a run do you need to get up that high?", she wonders, glancing around to see if there is a lengthy bit of distance suitable for flat out running.

Aryia gives a half stare at Simony before taking a step back away from the spire. "Right. I don't know what the fuck they teach here," she gestures, her attention shifting up to the spire. "But half the shit I do is mental. You have to have body and mind in sync. The spirit is a flowing river, and if body and mind is still, one can touch the current and /move/."

She shifts a foot back. "So I only need a step."

The pugilist inhales deeply before exhaling slowly. Stance solid. Then-

She starts to fade away?

No, she's moving so fast, a blur of after-images chase in her wake as she's running /up/ the spire. Aryia hits the apex, only to turn sharp and speed down the side of the tower to return back to where she started. The air finally displaces in a gust, and the mute stands there, lightly panting. "Took a long fucking time to figure that shit out." <Handspeech>

Simony opens her mouth to say something, probably in defense of her order, but her mouth closes as the Monk begins to blur. She watches the blue move up the spire, peak at the top, and turn to run back down. The Goblin simply stares at Aryia, her mouth hanging open.

"Can you carry me and do that still?", she wonders with a smile. "How long did it take you to work out?"

"No," Aryia denies outright. "Either you'll get left behind or you'll hit the wall at high impact. Only one of us can survive the latter."

She stares back, dusting off her jacket. "A long fucking time. About a year. Had help but then I had to figure it out myself, like most of the shit I do." <Handspeech>

Simony stretches, and lets out a yawns, then nods. "Okay, so you're not physically moving up there, you're.. using magic. Since you mentioned the city fucking with you." The swearword is accentuated a little, as if the little priestess was getting some pleasure with getting away with saying it. "A year. Did many others have enough patience to learn it, that you know of?"

"It's no more magic than me running so fucking fast it breaks down what isn't physical, so I guess it's some kind of magic. So I don't know, I just want to move, and my body moves." Aryia tilts her head to the side. "Others? Patience? Some people do it different ways, but their ways don't work with me, I didn't ask them how patient they were because I was too busy fucking flinging myself into walls and breaking my legs. So I figured it out myself. No gods, no masters." <Handspeech>

The GOblin listens silently as Aryia touches on her self-discovery, and nods at the end. "That must have taken a lot of attempts, starting off on your own. I had thought, perhaps, that you'd trained at an elite school or monastery. That perhaps I could be taught such things." She rubs at her cheek then. "Thank you for demonstrating your jump for me. It is an amazing thing. I wonder what else you can do, and might be able to do in future." <Handspeech>

Aryia shakes her head. "No. That stuffy shit doesn't work with me. I do what I know I can do, and what limits I have to surpass. It took a lot of pain, but I got here by being a stubborn bitch."

She Stares at Simony once more, this time appraising her. Down, up. "You can't copy me. And I can't copy you. You can only do what your mind and body can set itself to do. I don't show off, but I do a lot more than just jump around. Hope that one day you don't see what I do when I'm really pissed off."

Another beat. "Colosseum. Mornings. I teach fighters. If you come by, I can assess." <Handspeech>

"I don't think I will be scared about what you can do when you're really pissed off. I'd be scared if you were fucking mad at me!", she signs, laughing at the end. Her eyes widen and her ears perk up. "I.. you... really? I'll be there!" <Handspeech>

Aryia blankly stares at Simony. "You are naive." Damn, she sure is blunt. "Just leave your blessings at the door is all."

She looks up to the sky. Back down to Simony. "I have to keep working out. Bye." Without waiting for a reply, the mul'neissa twists on the spot, leaps straight up beside the spire. And then kicks off into the open air before her image fades. The trail cresting out beyond the spire's grounds, off into the mountains to the west. <Handspeech>

-End Scene-