Imperator Furiosa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
witness_this) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lastvoyageslogs2016-07-08 09:14 pm
witness_this) wrote in lastvoyageslogs2016-07-08 09:14 pm
Entry tags:
and that just leaves the gym
Who: Furiosa and open.
What: Sparring/gym log, plus crushes.
Where: The gym, or flexible to starters elsewhere.
When: July 8th.
After the broad, wild world with the sandy shores and thick jungles, the boat feels tiny. Furiosa has a hard time adjusting back to being clean again- wears a lot of engine grease the first couple of days, and mud out of the Enclosure.
She takes a trip with Horatio and Cold to Disneyland. In some ways, that helps the adjustment period, and in others it probably just worsens the pangs of withdrawal from blue skies and breeze on her skin.
So, she ends up in the gym, positively murdering a heavy bag, and then apparently locking into a battle of wills with one of the treadmills, pounding her way through the feeling of pressure closing in around her. She's lived here happily for a year now; she'll be able to readjust. This is where she is when the announcement about the new flood comes in.
Eventually, of course, she ends up looking for someone to coax into the ring. Nothing, but nothing works as quick as trading a few punches with someone who won't take it easy on her.
Afterwards, it's the mess hall and probably the infirmary, either for the cuts and bruises of the day, or to try to figure out what the hell is going on with the fairies.
What: Sparring/gym log, plus crushes.
Where: The gym, or flexible to starters elsewhere.
When: July 8th.
After the broad, wild world with the sandy shores and thick jungles, the boat feels tiny. Furiosa has a hard time adjusting back to being clean again- wears a lot of engine grease the first couple of days, and mud out of the Enclosure.
She takes a trip with Horatio and Cold to Disneyland. In some ways, that helps the adjustment period, and in others it probably just worsens the pangs of withdrawal from blue skies and breeze on her skin.
So, she ends up in the gym, positively murdering a heavy bag, and then apparently locking into a battle of wills with one of the treadmills, pounding her way through the feeling of pressure closing in around her. She's lived here happily for a year now; she'll be able to readjust. This is where she is when the announcement about the new flood comes in.
Eventually, of course, she ends up looking for someone to coax into the ring. Nothing, but nothing works as quick as trading a few punches with someone who won't take it easy on her.
Afterwards, it's the mess hall and probably the infirmary, either for the cuts and bruises of the day, or to try to figure out what the hell is going on with the fairies.
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He stares from afar, instantly smitten. ♥
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Her heart skips a considerable beat, and she presses the buttons to let herself off. It's just Han, but for some reason she's eager to talk to him today.
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"Furiosa," he whispers fervently.
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She answers, managing to play it relatively cool, though there is something a little bright eyed and fervent about the way she smiles back.
"Can I borrow you?"
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Whatever she needs, he's hers, be it fighting monsters, defending her honor, or doing her laundry; he's here for her.
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She agrees, a little breathlessly. It's a nice name. Why didn't she ever realize what a nice name it was.
"Boots on or off?"
While she walks them backwards, and towards the mats.
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His eyebrows lift slightly at her question, his expression settling into a little smirk. "I've never done it with my boots on," he replies, his libido jumping to a possibly erroneous conclusion as to her intentions.
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Not for himself, of course; not at his age. But it's a generally harmless way to pass the time.
Besides; the Barge is in flood, and Tarkin feels that there is less chance of one of them making a complete fool of themselves if the other is there to guard against it.
He has a deck chair brought down from the top level, and sits in it while Furiosa punches, a book in his hands.
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Furiosa moves to pull her arm off, unwrap her other hand, and grab her water bottle before sauntering over to join him, wondering out loud;
"Are you going to let me show you something?"
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"More fighting technique, Imperator?"
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She promises, dropping the arm for a minute, sipping her water, and glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the room, looking hopefully around for company, someone to drag into the ring with her.
She nods at the chair, for him, while she starts to stretch a little as she cools down, sitting herself right on the floor to get her hips and legs.
"You haven't seen Max around, have you?"
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"I have not." Tarkin assured. "Not in some time."
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"What about the Bull? I have to be more careful with him, but I wouldn't mind a go."
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"Full day?" he asks, setting the scanner down and heading to the drawer with the standard OTC supplies he doesn't need to bother a supervisor for.
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She wonders, as she comes on in, helps herself to a bed, hopping up on the edge of it. She gives a nod to the cat- Sylvanas' has trained her to view them as sentient.
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He starts dabbing antiseptic on her scrapes in order of severity, something similar to peroxide that fizzes rather than stings.
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She says, offering him her elbow, which took the works of it.
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Because Furiosa wants one, honestly.
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By the time the flood is underway there's a pretty good infestation of the little bastards in the greenhouse, and Dean is testing if the iron that works on them in his world will repel them here. Apparently it's failed: he's curled up asleep under one of the bushes, head pillowed on his arm and feet sprawled out into the path.
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"Hey darlin, you all right?"
She's definitely picked up that language from him.
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And then he's smiling, slow and sweet and maybe not as broad as his younger or alternate selves, but definitely not his usual fare there, either.
"Just fine, sweetheart," he rasps back, then glances up around him as he starts to uncurl. "I can see why you'd be concerned though. Nature. Nngh."
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"It's not very you."
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But what the fairies have done is pushed him past the point he thinks that doesn't account for enough to move on it, to shackle himself around her neck; they've given the parts of him that hurt too much enough anesthetic to be able to endure the idea of giving more of himself over to someone else to possibly be hurt, again, in the deep and critical way he can be hurt by people he loves, again.
So she touches his shoulder and leans closer, and he automatically feels himself want to lean in to meet her, his gaze flicking back up to hers. What the fairies can't do is remove his memory of conversations they've already had.
"I want to kiss you," he tells her - warns her - plainly. And: "Which is actually very much me, for the record."
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She agrees, and then with her usual impetuousness just leans over and does it herself, sliding her arm around his shoulders, shifting practically into his lap.
For her part, Furiosa had had a lot of very good, intellectual reasons why this was probably a bad idea, on his account. With a little magical help, none of them matter nearly so much as the fact that, by some miracle, they're here and they want each other, maybe even love each other.
That's not the kind of thing a person should take for granted, or let go.
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