Training Session II

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Brief Title:

Tigerstripe Wolverine

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
04/27/13 23:30


Conclusion of Training Session I

Social or Plot:


In the last episode…
The feline woman grunts, almost stepping into him as she targets for some of the weights seemingly. Up that close she hisses sharply, her slender frame like a matchstick in front of his boxy shape, but much taller. "Don't go kidding me. I guess you smell as much as I do, am I right?" she taunts, giving him what she considers a strong push with the shoulder, but it might more qualify as gentle for him. But for sure it is not aimed to hurt him, but is more like a playful taunt. "You want workout? There is the ring."

Those dark blue eyes of his hold her gaze for a time, and when she pushes him... well he does feel very solid. He's stocky, firm, and rather powerfully muscled. Not exactly the person you'd pick a fight with, though he knows she's in part playing as well.
There's a faint curve to his lip, a hint of a flash of fang as he folds his arms over his chest. "Don't go bitin' off more'n you can chew, darlin'." The X-Man takes a step back, opening one hand and uncurling the gesture towards the now vacant boxing ring. There are still people in the gym, but they're working out around the weights and the mats, luckily leaving the ring for them to use should they so wish. "After you if yer up to it. No claws though, like I said. M'fragile." Though it's curious why he'd say no claws, perhaps not wanting to 'out' himself right now or perhaps wanting to gauge how much control she truly has.

To Tigerstripe it is not the lacking of chance that matters in the situation. It's more the chance to keep control. And maybe there is her feral that deems a fight some more than just that. "Can only promise to try." Monique gives back. What was his name again? She had forgotten, but she did enter the ring, looking around it as she checked the bandages around her wrists, tugging at a piece of ripped fabric idly "So you said no claws, anything else?"

Pulling himself up into the ring, Logan slips in between the top and middle rope. He gestures towards some of the headgear nearby should she wish it, though he himself doesn't seem to be intent on availing himself of them. Instead he rolls his shoulders as he steps towards one corner, the powerful whipcord musculature of his neck and shoulders clear as he moves. She can almost see the interplay of his strong torso beneath the tight white t-shirt even as he turns to face her.
"No crying. And try not ta give up too quick." There's that same wild half-smirk that flirts at the corner of his mouth even as he steps forward, ready for her to do what she will and at the least hoping to give her a passing decent work out. Sure she might end up with a few bumps and bruises, but hey she asked for it.

Tigerstripe shuns the headgear, but she pulls back the hood of the pullover before she stretches her back once in a quite catlike manner before she assumes a fighting position that looks quite like a dirty mixture of what looks like self defense training and what you see in films. "So bring it on." Not that she would mind bumps and bruises; those seemed to heal in just a short time with her. Hours mostly. "Wait, one more rule: we don't try to break bones or kill each other."

"Now where's the fun in that?" Logan says levelly and as easily as that he steps towards her, footsteps light on the mat as he approaches. Though, of course, he had no intention of doing either of those things. That having been said, he steps toward her and casually fires a few jabs at her to let her get her bearings and balance, perhaps even her head in the game. But then again he seems content to just look at her for now, especially when she was stretching out, she might have caught a faint moment when his eyes lingered upon those subtle curves of her form. Anyone else might not have noticed, but her, she could almost feel that gaze like a hint of a caress.

She grunts, dodging the first few attacks before she tries to grab Wolverine's arm at the wrist woth her left and then hit for his elbow like it is taught in some courses. It might be quite painful for someone who gets the target of this counter attack, but skilled combatants shun this move for good reasons: It opens you totally for attacks of the other arm as both the own hands are occupied. Even if she gets the intention of his eyes, her conscious mind does focus on the fight at the moment. Still, she has her position not fully under control, hinting slightly towards the lack of defense and vulnerability, her tail and ears showing a strange contrast to the concentrated look in her face, as if to something in her the fight is just a game.

It's good that she seizes the initiative, that she's not afraid to press the attack. So when he's circling with her she's able to step in and she's able to get a hold of that wrist. His arm is firm, solid, she can feel the tension as she draws him forward and then slams her hand into the back of his elbow to try and lock the joint. She's able to, even able to twist it just a bit to try and get him into a joint lock, but then she might just realize... OWwWw, hitting that elbow was darn hard.
It's only when that pain perhaps registers with her that he counters, twisting to the side, dropping to one knee and shifting balance so she either has to be flipped to the side over one of his shoulders towards the mat, or twist with a flip through the air to release the tension on her arm as he moves. It's a precise motion, a testing one, and one that may show him exactly what she can do.

Tigerstripe’s fingers give a nasty sound of tortured bones as she hits the elbow, like it is usually heard when people smack faces hard, but as logn tries to draw her down or throw her over the shoulder she makes sure to break contack, jumping back with the agility of the cat she is partly. Still, this opens lots of oportunities again, her feet staying behind of her body some split seconds and so do her arms and the inability to change direction during the jump are not too favorable. And again there is this slight hint of vulnerability and pitty cat in the whole pose as she lands, not managing to get that under control really as she jumps in for an uppercut against Logan's chin. Which lacks not only power behind it but also the proper training in doing this move, so it is awkwardly lacking precision.

There are moments of lower balance, but still, Tigerstripe's tail is swift enough to keep her in it mostly. Still, in one of these more fragile moments, Logan's kick sends her tumbling, forcing her to retreat and to the mat with her right knee, before he presses in further to send her to the mat entirely with a mild punch against her shoulder. Grunting, Monique realizes the bad position she is in, but instead of giving up, her flaring nose seems to taunt him. Keeping still just a few moments she pulls her knees in close, kicking both legs forward in a fluid motion as if to arch the back like in some strip shows, but her feet seem to aim against the short Canadian's chest so she either gives him a double meeting with her heels or she can flip back up.

She's able to plant, to lift, and to push off of him to regain her feet with that smooth flip of movement. He's solid when her legs contact him, the impact barely moves him. It's almost as if he weighs much more than he seems. But she's able to gain that ground, that distance, before she has to go on the defensive again. He steps in, moving quickly, a flurry of punches blazing back and forth from left to right to left. He brushes close to her, the faint friction of skin to fur, the subtle touch of his musk upon her senses, that tang of sweat. He's warm when he moves, terribly warm.
It's fast, but she's able to keep up her defense. He tries to press in with his shoulder and uncoil with a smoothly unfolding backfist aimed at the side of her jaw. Yet she's nimble enough that she could get out of the way. And what is more, with him turning just so... she might have an opening at his back for only a bare moment.

Monique smirks on the intensity of the short battle, seeming to get at least some of those feral urges stilled. It's tight at times with her defense, but it becomes some sort of aggressive dance with the X-Man, her fur tickling against his skin, the scent of feline and sweat getting more noticeable as the fight goes on. As the back opens for mere moments, she gives it a try, turning to try to give his right kidney a slam with the elbow, but at the same time not giving enough onto the protection to evade the strike to her jaw fully, so it will brush not only the jaw closely, but also follow her cheek upwards, tugging the fur a bit with his fist. At least it misses the bone mostly.

Fade To Black

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