asthehawkflies | [#000] Appointments

How very efficient.

[She huffs a soft laugh and picks a point along the far mirrored wall, sliding into the firing stance her father taught her. One foot slightly behind, firing arm slightly bent, supportive arm perpendicular to the ground and bent. She takes a slow breath, squeezes the trigger and adjusts for the recoil of the revolver while the miror cracks in a large spiderweb from the bullet.]

[The mirror makes a really satisfying noise when the bullet hits it. It feels kind of like a movie, just shooting up a random place because... well, because they can. It's not necessarily the healthiest thing, but just once can't hurt, right?]

Nice shot.

[For himself, he takes aim at the barre itself, hitting close to where it attaches to the wall and leaving splintered wood behind.]

[Catharsis is always healthy. Just. As long as it's constructive. This is hardly constructive but Adele really can't care about that right now. She's too busy giggling at the splinter of glass and the sudden crack of a bullet against wood.]

Not exactly bottles on a fence post, and this is a bit more powerful than my father's revolver, but the basics are the same.

[She lines up for a second shot, this time trying to aim at and hit the chain of one of the vaulted lights above. It's off by a bit- so the bulbs shatter instead.]

[There is actually a certain satisfaction in the wanton destruction. No worrying about targets or scores or whether someone would get hurt, just watching glass shatter and wood break.]

Military and Police issue Smith and Wesson Model 15. It's a decent gun. And you're a pretty good shot.

[He laughs at the rain of glass as it falls and takes aim at the chain that she'd just missed, and fires, taking it down easily.]

I think his is...a Manurhin MR 73, I think. My father's revolver. He is the one that taught me to shoot.

[She shrugs and adjusts her stance, taking a crack at the other mirror in the center- the sharp shatter of glass is very satisfying.]

He did a good job. Maybe you should become a marksman.

[He switches out the gun for a knife and tests the weight before hurling it towards one of the windows. It makes a satisfying crash as it breaks.]

Can I truly make a living doing that?

[She checks her cylinder, picks a far mirror yet unshattered and takes her last three shorts in rapid succession, managing a tight little grouping. Glass splinters and falls and she can't quite muffle her faint giggle. The gun's set aside and she pads back to the table, running her fingers over the bow.]

I do.

Wouldn't recommend following in my footsteps but there's the military. Good marksmen are hard to find.

[He doesn't bother collecting the knife, but follows her over to the table.]

You want to try it out?

I don't know about that. We haven't had any members of the family in the military before...or the police force. We don't tend to take violence well.

[She drums her fingers on the table, rolling the idea around in her mind. It required discipline, mental and physical. Technical proficiency. It wasn't so strange an idea.]

I would.

First time for everything. And you're not really supposed to take violence well I don't think. It's more... being able to accept that it happens and work around it.

[He nods when she says she wants to try shooting it.]

It's a recurve bow. Hold it in your off hand.

I am not certain how well I would be able to- but then I have never attempted to think on it very long.

[She nods, picking it up with her right hand and getting a feel for the weight of it. He walked her through this a few years ago, to her mind. She remembers how it ought to feel.]

That's good to hear. That's how it should be.

[He watches her pick up the bow, and he's glad she's remembered, even if it was only a couple of days ago for him.]

Remember your stance. It's your foundation, where you draw strength from.

[A long while- but once a stance is learned, she can always find her way back to it. It'll take time, but she'll find it. Adele pulls an arrow from a quiver on the table and knocks it, settling into the stance Clint had taught her. She has to shift her feet and spend some time adjusting her shoulders before she actually lifts and draws back, and spends a few more seconds adjusting her aim until it all felt right.]

Like this, yes?

[He nods approvingly, only pausing for a moment to tilt her arm up slightly.]]

Good. That's good.

Always remember, once you've drawn, there's little chance of going back. Make sure you've picked the right target.

[She makes the adjustment as bid, takes a slow breath and releases it while she focuses on her target. The record player in the far corner. A beat, she looses the arrow and watches it fly- and fall short by a few inches, embedding itself in the hardwood floor.]

Merde.

Edited 2012-11-17 23:57 (UTC)

[He doesn't watch the arrow. That's not relevant once it's been loosed. He keeps his gaze on her stance, her position.]

Not bad. You're... remember to breathe. Take your time with it. Own the shot.

[She makes an adjustment in her aim without drawing back just yet, steadying her breath as best she can. Subtle shifting in her shoulders as she knocks an arrow and pulls back, lines up the shot and breathed through it. This time when she looses- it flies high, arcs, and pierces the wooden record player with enough force to knock it off center]

Ha!

Good!

You did great.

[He heads over to inspect the record player, and it takes a little effort to pull the shaft out of it.]

We'll make an archer of you yet.

It would do wonders for my upper body strength, such as it is.

[She laughs, something warm and bright, far lighter than anything she's uttered as an older woman. The tips of her fingers sting a bit from holding the cord, it's quite likely why most archers have gloves. Perhaps she might invest in one.]

This is a good deal...what is the word I want. Organic. It is a good deal more organic than using a gun. There is a greater sense of control.

There is that. That bow's got a draw weight of 35 to 40 pounds. You can work up to higher draw weights depending on your needs. The draw weight on mine is a lot heavier.

[It's good to hear her laugh like that.]

Yeah, that's a good way of putting it. With a gun, that bit of metal is the weapon. With a bow, your whole body is the weapon. It's an extension of yourself.

Any idiot can use a gun without any real knowledge, skill, or respect for the weapon. [Something her father said before he ever began teaching her how to shoot.] That is not quite as large an issue with a bow.

[She takes a moment to choose her next target, a point on the far wall in the mirror. Another arrow, a slow breath to gauge the shot before she draws and then she's lining it up, adjusting for distance, and loosing the arrow.]

Pretty much. Guns are great, don't get me wrong, and they take real skill to use well, but there's something about a bow...

[He smiled slightly, couldn't help it, and watched as she took another shot. It hit near the centre of the mirror, splintering it right through.]

A sense of romanticism and sentiment, perhaps.

[She smiles as she says it, there is nothing in her tone to infer she finds it distasteful. ]

That is so very satisfying.

No, I'm just really good with one.

[He grins at her.]

Isn't it just?

[#000] Appointments

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

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[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

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[Action] November 11th, Battledome

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