farsickness | (no subject)

WHO: Sam Winchester + OPEN
WHEN: Throughout April
WHAT: Exercising. buying supplies and just generally thinking about stuff
WHERE: Gazin
WARNINGS:
NOTES:

POKING AROUND:

Sam moved among the market stall careful not to crowd any of the other shoppers. He was well aware of how much space he took up and what that might mean for people smaller than him. Occasionally he'd spot something he liked and would chat and bargain with the stall owner until they worked out a fair price. He wasn't really looking for anything in particular just enjoying the nice day and the people enjoying it with him.

LETTING OUT SOME STRESS:

Sam drew in a deep breath as he shifted the sword in his hand. He didn't normally swing a sword one handed, but he was in the mood to really give himself and the blade a work out today so he was changing things up a bit. After another deep breath, Sam moved into a series of slashes and parries losing himself in the movements. He has no idea that someone might be watching or about to comment about what he's doing.

WILDCARD:

[Hit me up with a prompt of your own if you want. I'm game for anything.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lan Wangji knew better than to interrupt practice, so he did not speak up until the series of motions was halted for a rest.

Then his voice was quiet and calm.

"What school of swordsmanship is that?"

... he was only judging a little. Then again, aside from the guqin, all his training had been focused on the sword, so he had something of high standards.

Sam stops and chuckles. "It's the...I don't work with swords very often" style. I'm mostly a knife and gun guy with bows and machete's thrown in for good measure." Sam puts the sword gently down on the grass. "Pretty bad from huh?"

Wanjgi's pale eyes narrow slightly, but then he glances away.

"No system. Plenty of strength, could use more control."

But also...

"Gun?" He may not have encountered those before. Or machetes, but the druid-granted understanding lets him know it's a sort of a blade.

Bows, on the other hand, he knows well.

Sam has been working quietly on drawing up a design for a new gun since he got here and pulls his journal out of his back pocket flipping it open to a page. "This is a gun," he explains, "it shoots bullets, metal projectiles at things...like a bow but it uses gunpowder as the reactionary force to kick things off...."

Wangji straightens up, for all his judgy ways he knows it is not kind to do so - and if this man has survived with what he can do, that means it is also good enough - but he is very much someone curious about knowing all sorts of things, so the design is of great interest.

It takes him a moment to piece together images and meanings, and he tilts his head.

"Heat?"

The firecrackers he knows tend to be rather hot to the touch, so wouldn't using them inside a tube make that problem worse?

Sam nodded. "A small bit though," he explains, "just enough that it pushes the bullet out but not enough that it's dangerous to the shooter of the gun. "Less than a finger tip worth as my dad used to say."

Wangji tilts his head to the side, considering.

"You have found a smith to make this?" Beat. "Or goldsmith?" He is not sure how fine the tools necessary to craft this. Something interesting to look into, probably.

Finnick's not a small man, and he's used to being (and making himself) the centre of attention when he walks into a room, but he can make a passable attempt at being unobtrusive when he really tries. He's trying now, trying and relying on the stranger being distracted by what he's doing.

Finnick leans back against a tree and watches the man through heavy-lidded eyes. It's hard to judge his form from just the movements, but Finnick's not entirely impressed. Of course the guy is both much taller than Finnick and obviously strong, so he's not making assumptions about the possible danger the guy could pose in a fight.

But if Finnick's trying to learn and understand as much about the people here as he can, he needs to find out more about the guy practicing with the sword.

"Getting ready for a fight?"

Sam stops and moves to rest the sword on the ground. "There is always a fight where I come from," he replies, "but today I was just practicing since I work more with knives and guns rather than longer blades like a sword." He looks the guy over. "I'm Sam by the way...I don't think we've met."

"Finnick."

But there's something the stranger, Sam, says that makes Finnick far more interested than he'd been a few moments before.

"You work with guns?"

Finnick's caution is startled away for long enough for him to ask the question, his voice sounding surprised at just how casually Sam talks about fighting with guns.

Nobody can fight with guns in Panem. Nobody except the Peacekeepers. It's illegal.

(no subject)

Letting out some stress

Re: Letting out some stress

Another apology, work ATE ME

Re: Another apology, work ATE ME

and a happy birthday, Sam

Re: and a happy birthday, Sam

no subject

letting out some stress

Re: letting out some stress

no subject