meadowlarklogs | those who died are justified;

[ The reaction is more than he expected for such a simple punch, assuming it would be largely absorbed with a quick counterattack and possibly an unnecessary quip.

Well, there is an unnecessary quip, but it's considerably delayed and paired with another maneuver that seems designed to immobilize Noctis rather than do him any damage. Great. Somehow knuckles to his face would sting a little less than attempting to buck up against him and making zero headway does. ]

You're-- ugh, heavy... and if "sweet" was a joke about the strudel, it was lame... [ The attempt at a headbutt to follow, possibly when Jason is about to reply? Is not his finest moment in terms of thinking through consequences or sportsmanship, but his options are limited. ]

( yeah, see. jason would be throwing fists except this is just a match for fun, to gauge nocts' reactions and to figure out just how good is he is on his feet or. uh. off of them. whichever. his gut's still a little soft but he doesn't take noctis' own violent, fighty mannerisms as any reason to start getting fighty himself. )

You don't appreciate my puns? I'm hurt. Really.

( no he isn't. and jason has a thick, hard skull. hard enough that when he sees what this kid is aiming for he doesn't even try to dodge it, just shoves his own head forward to put just as much force behind his side as noctis is on his.

who will win the headbutt war? find out next episode. )

[ The crack of skulls is audible in the small room, an only mildly horrible sound that signals pain on one side or another. Noctis's entire brain feels rattled, skull humming down to the base of his neck, and still it isn't as jarring as the familiar pain that blossoms in his chest when he instinctively tries to call forth a portion of his magic. It's been especially hard for him to "turn off", so to speak, his powers from back home so intrinsically woven into his battle style that he's found himself attempting to use them without even thinking about it.

The combination of the two has him slumping back against the mats again, hand going first to his forehead to brush it before rubbing agitatedly at his chest. ]

... it's even lamer than the crusty memes... [ why, Ramuh, have you forsaken me ]

( this is what happens when two hard headed losers collide. noctis' skull impacts with his own and jason has to grit his teeth hard to keep it from rattling his own brain too much. he's dazed, but--still upright, shifting weight forward enough to sit on hips and keep noctis from getting that high up again.

and raises a hand to rub at his forehead, wincing. )

Jesus. What're you packing in there, bricks?

( but there's a distinct fondness to his tone despite the pained expression. hard headed isn't a bad quality to have in this case. his forehead may be sore for a bit but it was funny as hell. )

Shut up... do you think I wanna' hear that from you, when yours is like concrete?

[ There's no malice in that tone to speak of, just exasperation and obvious pain, but he's not about to let either stop him. No, Jason scoots forward to lock down Noctis's torso and reduce the threat of strikes from his upper half and that's practically an open invitation for another form of attack. Legs swing upward in a sudden blur of motion and in an impressive display of flexibility, using the momentum to compensate for mobility still being somewhat limited by Jason's body. Ankles make to hook around his neck, crossing there under his chin if they're given the chance.

This is also not dignified, but it's also just about the only option left to him that fits within the rules of a hand-to-hand match. ]

( noctis is small. fast, clever with his movements but jason wasn't exactly anticipating a gymnast in him. legs wrap around his neck and jason's upper half is forced back a little under the pressure, one hand raising to grab onto an ankle while the other moves down to shove against the chest under him, trying to keep noctis down. )

Jesus christ, kid. ( muffled, there are gross boots in his face. ) Anyone ever tell you it's rude to strangle people?

( do either of them care about manners? nah. is jason still going to be snarky about it? of course. )

[ There are gross socked feet in his face, okay, he took the boots off. This could be worse. ]

Tch-- [ The shove downward only has his legs tightening, a lose-lose situation for both of them whenever more distance is introduced and pressure has to be applied somewhere. ]

No, they haven't... And I don't know what the hell "Jesus Christ" is either.

( socks are even worse, wtf. no one wants stinky sweat soaked shit that's been on feet in their face. noctis tightens the grip he has on jason and jason's. reaching back with the hand that was on noct's ankle, fingers pressing into pressure points along the inside of his knee, his thigh.

trying to get noctis to break first. )

Forgot you're not from Earth for a minute. ( a breath, hold on. ) Don't worry 'bout it.

[ You did this to yourSELF.

Fingertips dig into his thigh and Noctis grits his teeth, realizing the need to push Jason just as far and that's the sole motivation behind a sudden far more purposeful flex of muscle that further cuts off the man's airflow.

There is no graceful way for either of them to get out of this situation. ]

Fuck-- Tell me, okay, I'm trying to learn shit...

( there's no way to get out of this well without causing some extreme damage, at least. and jason really doesn't feel like breaking bones. noctis asks for an answer but it's a little fucking hard with legs around his neck, pushing against the front of his throat and cutting off air. jason--coughs instead, slams a fist into the inside of noctis' leg and

moves one of his own legs up even if it does start to put him a little off balance, shoves his own foot right into the other's throat.

these are safe sparring practices. )

[ The fist hits hard and brings with it a numbing sensation that webs out through his leg from the point of impact and momentarily dazes him, well aware that pain will follow on its heels and he needs to stay aware of Jason's next move now more than ever. Not that it matters much when his hand is readied a second too late -- he barely manages a slap of a palm against the side of Jason's ankle, softening the blow minutely but not enough.

Ow? ]

You... [ Swallowing is a mistake that lends extra discomfort to this whole situation, taking a moment to weigh his options here... and the foot not knocked away from Jason's throat makes a point of pressing in against his Adam's apple more firmly almost as if in warning. Well, this is even sadder. ]

Answer my question... at least.

( he is longer than noctis, at least. and jason is stronger, physically, even if he isn't as quick. jason's foot presses hard into his neck, fingers grabbing onto the ankle left behind on his neck to try and shove it off, or at least pull it back enough to. be able to breathe. jason takes in a breath, coughs around the pressure noctis is still putting there, grins wide. )

Religious figure, easy curse to go for.

( before ramming one foot into noctis' shoulder and the other into his neck. )

[ One of the first lessons Gladio beat into his head with a wooden sword that left welts and deep bruises all over his body was to know when he was beaten and understand the importance of a tactical retreat. It hadn't sunk in well, as most of his early lessons hadn't, but right now Noctis is finally allowing his head to thunk back fully against the floor without straining back against a foot keeping air from coming easily to him.

This... is... just... ]

Great, now I-- know... Don't use a religious name as a curse... and quit grinning at me, I can feel it.

( this is the single most pathetic "training" match jason todd has ever taken part in. granted, most the people jason spars with are a bit. more elegant than noctis regardless but this is a new low. good job, dude. noctis goes down but jason doesn't follow. he stays upright, half pressed against a thigh and weight balancing carefully on his waist and the one foot he still has down against the ground as both hands move up to pry the foot off of his neck. )

Don't--tell me what to do.

Edited 2019-01-08 19:36 (UTC)

those who died are justified;

nothing says "we need to talk about damian" like straddling and headbutts

this is how true men communicate, right

NO, JUST YOU, JASON

SHUT UP HE DOES WHAT HE WANTS

i hate this

you love it

okay fine i do

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