asgardmeridiem

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Who: Edmund Pevensie (

metamorphs) and YOU
What: Nothing like training together to kick off a friendship.
When: Late morning
Where: Training rooms & gym in the Arena
Rating: PG

Situation A

Working out isn't a foreign concept to someone from Edmund's time, but many of the machines littering the gym do not look at all familiar to him. If he has to be honest, the heavy machines are actually sort of daunting, especially with his younger appearance.

If anyone wanders into the gym to work out, they'll probably see Edmund drifting from machine to machine, sometimes peering at the instruction labels and sometimes simply just frowning at the contraptions with a profound look of confusion on his face.

Situation B

WHO NEEDS THOSE MACHINES. Edmund has a perfectly good sword - crafted at the local forge once he had enough money saved up - that he could train with. Anyone in the area can find him in an open practice room, slowly but expertly going through the forms and parrying with an invisible opponent.

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[ yeah, the machines are friggin' weird, he'll give you that. (... honestly, he's from an even earlier time point, technologically, than edmund, so. HE KNOWS THE FEELING, man.)

mako's busy half beating the shit out of a heavy bag. hands taped, feet bare, as he lays into the canvas with combinations of strikes using his hands and his legs. it's weird and — frustrating, to say the least, that he can't firebend when he practices, but mako'll just have to... make do. somehow.

he finishes of his set with a vicious high kick that lands somewhere in the "face" region of the punching bag, letting the force of the rebound push him back into a basic stance, bouncing just a little bit on the balls of his feet. mako watches edmund quietly as he wipes the sweat off his face with a towel, then starts applying a new dusting of chalk, before carefully offering a, ]

Free weights are in the next room over, if you're looking.

[Surprisingly - or not surprisingly, depending on who you ask - even fifteen years as king has not completely cured Edmund of his dislike of asking for help. He still prefers figuring things out on his own if he can, but even he has his limits with technology.

A few rounds around the gym, and he knew it was time to throw the towel in when he didn't feel particularly inclined to try any of the unwieldy things. He'd taken to observing the other Traveler in the gym, wondering what style the other was so engaged in. Not that Edmund knows anything of boxing or its variants.]

Oh, you mean me? [It takes all of his willpower not to jump in surprise when he's addressed.] I was just having a look 'round the area, actually.

[ mako nods casually, brushing his fingers together for a few passes to shake off the extra, unwanted chalk, and rolling his shoulders a little bit before taking a stance up again. a left-left-right combo, ]

Only looking?

[ because kid, you are tiny, he could probably bench press you, easy. right-left-kick-reversal. ]

Only looking...for now, I suppose. Many of these machines are unfamiliar to me.

[That's as much as an admission as he's willing to give a stranger. There's always the punching bags, but the thought of trying them out while in this body would be enough to send Edmund out of the gym doors.]

[ "for now" ]

... Well, get a spotter for the free weights, if you end up using them.

[ mako stop being a bro-coach, this isn't your gym, you are not captain of a team here, he is not your brother (INSERT MORE PUNCHING OF THE BAG) ]

[Edmund frowns at the term, stepping closer with an air of curiosity.]

What do you mean by "spotter"?

You'll excuse me for not knowing the terms - my siblings and I didn't use facilities like this very often back in our world.

Someone to keep you from lifting wrong or hurting yourself when you max out. [ a couple more punches ] You should probably get someone to teach you to lift properly, while you're at it.

[ no he's not offering to help WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT NOPE ]

Ah, that's what it meant.

[Edmund eyes the weights curiously, wondering if it would be worth it. While he and his siblings have lost the strength they gained over the years they spent in Narnia, most of that had been built up through continuous battles and swordwork, not through lifting weights.]

And how does someone go about finding a spotter?

[In case he's interested. Which he isn't. Yet.]

Ask around. There's a guy named Zack around here somewhere who might be able to set something up.

[Edmund isn't the only one there to train with weapons! Although Euri is slacking a little - getting her ass kicked constantly in sparring matches is starting to wear down her motivation, especially when said people kicking her ass don't look the type.

So she's got a staff borrowed from the arena, but she's wandering down the halls as she works up the nerve to start practicing again. When she passes by Edmund's room she'll pause at the doorway, recognizing him.]

Hey! You're that kid - [Wait, that isn't right.]

- I mean, you're that guy who looks like a kid but isn't, right?

[Edmund stops mid-swing to look over at the door. The voice had already sounded familiar, but it's seeing her face that really spurs the flash of recognition.]

That's me. And you're the witch that got the glass slipper.

[Since he's already stopped, Edmund decides to take a break. It would be rude to continue his training when Euri had initiated a conversation with him anyway.]

Did you ever find out who it was?

[Euri scratches the back of her head, eying his sword. Her first thought is that can't be easy to use given his size, and her second is wondering how long he's used the weapon.]

No. I'm guessing it was just a stupid prank. [And a really weak one at that compared to pranks she's had to deal with back home, so despite the glass slipper thing not ending well she doesn't look too broken up about it.]

[Edmund sheaths the sword, setting it to the side.]

A token designed to make you believe you had an admirer? That sounds unnecessary. What made you change your mind about the slipper?

I haven't heard anything from the person who sent it to me. What else am I supposed to think?

If it isn't an admirer, perhaps it's someone who simply wanted to give you a gift? Or perhaps they're waiting for the right time.

[Seems like Euri's already given up on whoever it is, though. Edmund changes the subject after the conversation lulls.]

Do you work here, Euri?

[He had been wondering where Ed had run off to. Though he had only just arrived (with injuries, no less), he is already itching to do something. Besides, it would be a good idea to keep himself in tip top shape. Who knew what dangers lurked in Asgard.

He leans against the door frame, waiting for Edmund to finish the form before speaking.]

Didn't think to invite your brother, did you?

[He attempts to look offended while he cradles Rhindon idly in his hand (he really ought to find a sheath for it).]

After you just arrived? I thought you would need the rest.

[Edmund doesn't take the bait - he knows his brother too well - but he does hold something out, offering it to Peter. On closer inspection, it's a sheath, a bit worse-for-wear but still serviceable.]

I thought you might be needing that. I asked the grey man in charge of the weapons storage for an extra. You can use that for Rhindon until we get a better substitute.

[Rolling his eyes good-naturedly.]

You ought to know better.

[Everything was healed by Merlin, so he's perfectly fine. Besides, he likes spending time with Ed, and certainly wants to after finding out his brother has been alone here for weeks.

Peter visibly brightens when Edmund offers him the sheath. While it is certainly nothing compared to the one that came with Rhindon, it worked well enough. The fact that Ed thought to get him one is enough to endear it to him.]

Brilliant, Ed!

[He tests the weight and the fit, finding them satisfactory enough, so he turns to beam at Edmund again.]

Thanks.

Those words are much more applicable to your case, Pete.

[Not that Edmund actually expected his brother to stay in bed to rest. That would simply be asking for too much.]

How's your arm? [He'd seen that it was healed himself the day before, but it's always good to double check.]

[He good-naturedly rolls his eyes.]

I'm perfectly fine, as you can see.

[He exaggeratedly rotates his arm ~~for the millionth time~~ for his brother's approval.]

Do I gain your permission to spar, your majesty?

[Edmund returns the eye roll at Peter's exaggerated action.]

As if you'd listen, even if I said "no". Give me some credit; I do know you better than that.

[He pretends to look mournful as he clutches his shirt right where his heart is.]

You wound me, dearest brother. You ought to know your opinion is held in the highest regard.

[As it so happens, Lyon spends a lot of time in the gym doing exactly what Edmund is doing right now. Curious about other sword styles, she stops to watch him practice his forms for a few moments.]

[Focused as Edmund is on his routine, he doesn't notice he has a spectator until he stops for a breather.]

Oh, hullo. Were you planning to use this room as well?

Oh, no, I can use one of the others. I didn't mean to interrupt. You wouldn't happen to be a knight, though, would you?

You're not interrupting. [Politeness is always something to fall back on when he's with strangers, and Edmund definitely uses it now.]

And you guessed correctly. [Edmund gives his sword an experimental swish before sheathing it.] How could you tell?

Your style is similar to the kinds of swordplay I've seen at home. I'm actually a knight myself, too.

You are, really?

[Suppressing that knee-jerk reaction of "a girl knight?" right about now. He doesn't think Susan would appreciate it all that much, even if she isn't around at the moment.]

There are quite a few knights in this city - more than I expected. I suppose if the gods are expecting a war, it would make sense.

Lyon, Queen's Knight of Falena.

[She balls up a fist and brings her arm out in front and across her chest in the traditional salute of her country.]

And yes, I think that's probably why there are so many of us here. But it takes all kinds of people to win a war, so there are just as many people here who aren't trained fighters.

[Her formality makes him pause, before he quietly gives his own name and title, though leaving a few out.]

King Edmund Pevensie, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.

[He gestures toward the benches at the corner of the practice room.] Shall we take a seat? I could use a break, and I'd like to know about your world, if that's all right.

King? Oh, excuse me!

[Lyon's eyes go wide for a moment before she bows politely.]

Yes, if you'd like, I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have.

Just "Edmund" is fine - titles mean very little in a city that does not belong to us.

Please, sit. [He walks her over to the other side, waiting for her to be seated first.]

That's true, I suppose.

[Even though she still calls Frey 'Prince' all over the place.]

Thank you.

[And she'll have a seat.]

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[Open]

situation a. (AWW YEAH SWEATY MANLY TIME IN THE GYM /no laure stop you're embarrassing.)

AWW YEAHHH

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situation b

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B!

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B

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