Gideon Nav (
ninth_cavalier) wrote2024-02-24 10:58 am
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Open Post: The Arms of the Emperor are Never Idle
Gideon spends her mornings in the practice yard, bright and early, despite the cold. She jogs and stretches to get her blood pumping and her muscles warm before she draws her sword, and then after drills she brings Tally her coffee, and then after that it's back to more sword—unless Tally hauls her off to some other activity, which she pretends to hate but is secretly devastatingly grateful for. The absolute worst part of this place is all the time. Endless stretches of time, with barely any work to be done.
In some ways it's just like the Ninth—except on the Ninth she knew her exits. They were few, sure, and near-impossible, but she knew them: buy her way out, fight her way out, trick her way out, or truly earn it.
None of those apply, here.
She breaks for lunch, and wanders the halls trying to locate various Clues and Mysteries that might end up giving her a way out, and mostly just finds people. More and more people.
She's not antisocial. She likes the people here, more than she's openly liked anyone in her life, individually or as a group. But a gnawing restlessness keeps her on the move rather than letting her time fill up with idle conversation as so many here do. She's always hunting for something to keep her busy, to wear out her body so that when she sleeps her mind is forced to rest rather than serving her a lovely buffet of the worst things she's ever seen and even worse things she hasn't, the things she was yoinked away just in time to miss.
Sometimes it even works.
[This post is open in perpetuity until something happens to make me close it, at which point I will edit it and say so! Feel free to find Gideon in the morning doing sword drills, or tooling around inside, opening and closing drawers and trying peel the wallpaper off in case there's flesh underneath.]
In some ways it's just like the Ninth—except on the Ninth she knew her exits. They were few, sure, and near-impossible, but she knew them: buy her way out, fight her way out, trick her way out, or truly earn it.
None of those apply, here.
She breaks for lunch, and wanders the halls trying to locate various Clues and Mysteries that might end up giving her a way out, and mostly just finds people. More and more people.
She's not antisocial. She likes the people here, more than she's openly liked anyone in her life, individually or as a group. But a gnawing restlessness keeps her on the move rather than letting her time fill up with idle conversation as so many here do. She's always hunting for something to keep her busy, to wear out her body so that when she sleeps her mind is forced to rest rather than serving her a lovely buffet of the worst things she's ever seen and even worse things she hasn't, the things she was yoinked away just in time to miss.
Sometimes it even works.
[This post is open in perpetuity until something happens to make me close it, at which point I will edit it and say so! Feel free to find Gideon in the morning doing sword drills, or tooling around inside, opening and closing drawers and trying peel the wallpaper off in case there's flesh underneath.]
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"This is so bubbly-making," she says. "But you always make me bubbly." She tries the same move back on Gideon, but she can already tell her swing is clumsier, unused to the weight of a sword in her hands.
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"Um, of course it is. That's what we've been trying to do this whole time." This time Tally gets hit, but she doesn't flinch or fall over. The pain sings through her. "Bubbly equals not pretty-minded and useless. You're really good at making my heart beat fast. You know, with all the coffee and stuff like this." Tally's also distracted now, even as the world shimmers with bubbliness. "Are you going to knock me over or what?"
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She tangles their legs together in a modified version of her first trip, one that could, maybe, if you squint, be mistaken for a dance move where you dip your partner—only at the bottom of the dip she drops Tally unceremoniously onto the floor.
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Tally gazes up at her. "Would you do other stuff to keep me bubbly?" she asks suddenly. She hadn't thought it was possible, but her heart beats even harder.
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"Then would you kiss me?" she blurts out, surprising herself. "I know you have your, um, Harrow at home, so it doesn't have to be anything serious. I just... want to." Magnus had definitely made a good point that she shouldn't use Gideon for pure bubbliness purposes, but this isn't that. This is just Tally asking for what she wants, even if she's not entirely sure she knows all the reasons why she wants it.
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"Yes," she says, committing. "I know I said you were ugly, and I'm really sorry. Like you said, my, um, soft-core panopticon totally fucked me up. But obviously that's not the prevailing opinion any more. Um, that I have. I like you for you, too." She starts nervously twirling the sword in one hand, then stops herself.
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She's close enough she could kiss Tally, now. She doesn't--she just stares up at her, at the chrome of her eyes, the tattoo whirling at her eyebrow. "Because you like me, huh?" she asks, quieter. Shit. Can it really be that simple?
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"It is kind of the swordplay," she teases. "Totally bubbly-making." She looks into Gideon's beautiful golden eyes and finds the vulnerability there, less evident than it might be in a pretty's but much more authentic. It feels like a prize she's won.
"I do. You make me feel like myself."
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Tally's bubbliness is almost wrapping back around to lightheadedness, so she puts her hand on the back of Gideon's head to steady herself. She leaves it there when she pulls back to get some air, gently carding her fingers through Gideon's short hair.
"Wow," she says softly. "I could totally win a fight with a Special right now, probably."
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"Yeah," she says, a little stunned. "I mean, uh--" She rallies. "Only if the Special didn't have a decent sword."
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She's feeling a little bit Gideon-effected right now herself. She wants to listen to everything Gideon says, and look at her more, and to get a little closer.
"So mean, Gideon-la," she chastises. "It's totally not my fault if my sword teacher is, like, utterly distracted." She kisses her again.
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"Maybe," she says, then sighs, too lucid to forget the actual threat of real-life zombies she's supposed to be preparing for. "I mean, no. I probably should still actually learn things."
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