Magnus Chase (
summerdude) wrote2023-10-24 12:34 pm
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Jack Puts Me Through My Paces [open post]
"Señor, you really should practice more," Jack says, as Magnus rearranges his mental notes and sighs.
(Anyone else might think Magnus is just lying back on a bench on the grounds, staring at the sky, lost in thought. And technically, he is. But he's working hard!!! He's trying to sort out everyone he's encountered so far!!!)
"You're right," Magnus groans. Being in a weird Mansion with no way out, no established Battle Practice, and no pressing quests to go on is not an excuse to let his limited fighting skills fall by the wayside. He hauls himself upright and shoves his (still largely blank) notebook into his backpack.
Twenty minutes later, he's secured a practice sword from some random closet or another in the Mansion. It's dull steel, not sentient, and heavy in his hands.
"Perfect," Jack decides, so Magnus tramps back out to the spacious lawn, one sword in each hand. Checking to make sure no one is directly in harm's way, he releases Jack and brings the dull training sword up, ready to parry whatever attack Jack decides to throw at him.
(Anyone else might think Magnus is just lying back on a bench on the grounds, staring at the sky, lost in thought. And technically, he is. But he's working hard!!! He's trying to sort out everyone he's encountered so far!!!)
"You're right," Magnus groans. Being in a weird Mansion with no way out, no established Battle Practice, and no pressing quests to go on is not an excuse to let his limited fighting skills fall by the wayside. He hauls himself upright and shoves his (still largely blank) notebook into his backpack.
Twenty minutes later, he's secured a practice sword from some random closet or another in the Mansion. It's dull steel, not sentient, and heavy in his hands.
"Perfect," Jack decides, so Magnus tramps back out to the spacious lawn, one sword in each hand. Checking to make sure no one is directly in harm's way, he releases Jack and brings the dull training sword up, ready to parry whatever attack Jack decides to throw at him.
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After a moment's thought, he draws Bichen with a flash of glacial sword glare.
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"He really likes your sword," Magnus observes to Lan Wangji.
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They can, however, spar. Rather than saying anything aloud, Lan Wangji steps closer to Jack, flicking Bichen demonstratively through the air. The blade glows blue, as ever.
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After a few minutes, Magnus slips himself -- and his practice sword -- between Lan Wangji and Jack, and blocks Bichen's next swing.
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To make it even, he releases his grip on Bichen's hilt and allows the sword to conduct itself and spar with Magnus. This is, however, still in answer to Lan Wangji's own spiritual power, so the techniques remain the same: crisp slices that cut cleanly through the air in an effort to evade and overpower Magnus' practice sword.
He is ignoring the abominable music coming from Jack.
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He's happy enough to fight another flying sword now, though, and one that doesn't know all his moves intimately. He adjusts his grip on the hilt of his training sword and awaits Bichen's next move.
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With that information coolly delivered, Bichen descends on Magnus, still with those quick, brisk sweeps through the air, inexorable. The glow of its blade is growing brighter, and frostier, as Lan Wangji continues to prevent any slicing qi or damaging sword glare from releasing itself. When Magnus blocks or parries, he will likely note the absolute firmness of Bichen in the air, the way crossing blades with it feels like crossing blades with a statue. That said, Lan Wangji is enjoying the dance of this enough to be focused more on the beauty of each swing than on specifically trying to disarm Magnus.
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His arm throbs as he catches another of Bichen's swings, so he switches hands long enough to shake the ache out. While he ducks another jab, he says, "Jack does his own thing but he still uses my, uh, my energy? To do it. So when I pick him up again it's as if I did everything myself, wielding him. This one time, he flew me around... I passed out for hours."
Arm successfully loosened, he goes on the offensive again, trying to knock Bichen back a few paces.
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"Do not deplete yourself for me," he advises Magnus. "Do we need to stop?"
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"Señor," Jack complains, but he floats farther away as Magnus closes his eyes and concentrates on trying to summon the feeling that all fighting must stop. He's been practicing this, since the Boarding of Naglfar -- calling it on command without losing teeth in the process. (They grow back, in Valhalla, but it's not fun.)
Pressure builds inside of him. His vision goes hot, then gold as light golden light explodes from him outward. Any weapon -- indeed, anything that could be used in battle -- will go flying with the shockwave that spreads in a thirty-foot radius from Magnus. His own training sword is one of them: it flies out and lands, lodging firmly in a small mound of dirt.
Magnus wipes away a tiny trickle of blood from his nose with the back of his hand, healing himself of the tiny injury in the process. Then he looks to Lan Wangji, grinning hopefully. This is usually a lot more impressive in the heat of battle, when there are a lot of weapons around, but hopefully Lan Wangji will still find it cool.
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