[Flashback] A lesson in Preparation (Amongst other things)

[Guy Laliberte]

Day 18 of Spring of 488 AV

Guy yawned, lying on his cot, underneath the thin cotton sheets. He didn’t remember pulling the sheets over him, so his father must’ve. His eyes remained closed, and his hands grasped the edges of the sheet, enjoying the relative warmth that had more to do with his body heat than the sheets’ warmth. Them, suddenly, a cup of water is dropped on his face, the cold splash shocking him into the land of the woken.

“Why’d you do that for!” Exclaims Guy, spluttering.

“To wake you up.” Said his father, Jionn. He stood above him, dressed in his plain cotton clothes, with a clay cup in his hand.

“I was already awake!” Psh, like that would stop him...

“I know.” Jionn grinned, finishing the water that was left in the cup. Guy got up, his bare skin shivering from the cold water. It was such a warm morning, too... “Are you ready for your lessons?”

Guy moaned. Another day of learning? It was too early for that. “Can’t I eat breakfast, first?”

“Of course. Breakfast is served already,” He said, motioning to a small table. Upon it was a small ceramic plate, with a slice of cheese and a loaf of bread, and a small cup of water. Guy sat down and silently chewed his food, reminiscing on the fish he ate just last night. Compared to this, that fish was delicious.

[Guy Laliberte]

When he finished his meal, and his drink, he stood up, and announced, “I’m ready to begin my lessons.”

“Very good,” Answered his father, sitting on the bed. “Lesson one: You are never ready to begin a lesson.”

“Wah...?” Guy was confused. Hadn’t he finished eating, and was therefore ready to start learning?

“One can never truly be prepared for the lesson - they can only hang on for the ride.” This bit of philosophical insight befuddled Guy to no end. How could he not be ready? He was completely ready! Let his father throw whatever he wanted at him - he could take it. Sighing, Jionn stood up, and ushered guy out the door. When he looked up, he noticed his father was already in the costume - a silk and felt, black and gold thing, that shined in the light. He couldn’t wait for the day when he himself could put that on and perform.

“I have to work today, and I thought it would be a good idea if you went and worked as well. Here, take these oranges - they’re easier to juggle than the juggling set, believe it or not - and make me some money. Meet me back here by sundown.”

“Yes, sir,” said Guy, saluting ceremoniously, his hand on his forehead. “Do I have a quota or...?”

“No, son, just make as much as you can,” Jionn said, smiling. His son was so industrious - not really a good quality to have when your work must be fluid and creative. Guy ended the salute, and turned briskly, carrying the oranges in his hand. Finding a suitable corner, he sets down his bag and begins to juggle, smiling at everyone walking by. His hands seem more controlled than the night before, as he had been meditating on what his father had told him. Don’t let the balls control you, but let yourself control the balls. Or oranges, whatever. He smiles at the onlookers, proud of himself.

Suddenly, a cat jolts from the building behind Guy, hissing and mewing loudly, chasing a mouse or something. Guy, startled, jumps up, the oranges landing on his head one after the other.

[Guy Laliberte]

Guy collapses on the ground, legs sprawled underneath him, the back of his hand to this forehead, posing dramatically.

“Oh, the humanity,” He cries, brushing orange juice from his face. “Oh, the unfairness! What cursed god decided to seal my fate in fruity doom?” A girl, about twelve years old, giggles as she watches his impromptu performance. He breaks into a smile, only to stifle it and wear a look of grave sadness, even depression, on his face. His eyes, however, betray the fun he is having.

“You there, girl,” He says, whipping his hand out and pointing at her. “Was it you, oh foul witch, who cursed me with your evil ways?”

“Don’t ‘you there, girl’ me, little boy. I’m a full two years older than you, easy.” Was her response, her lips pouting and her hands at her hips. “An’ I am not a witch!”

Guy gets down on his knees and crawls towards her, his hands sliding in front of him on the cobbled street, his head bowed deeply. He stops about a foot in front of her, and other passers-by stop to see what is happening. “Please, sorceress, do not curse me further with thine feline familiars. I am but a humble beggar, and are not worth a Copper Miza to you.”

Catching on that this was all an act, the girl kicks him, hard, on his head. At least, that’s what it looked like. In fact, her foot had barely touched him when he went flying backwards, stumbling over his feet as he fought to regain his balance. He ended up splayed on his back, hands shielding his face from her, feet flat on the ground, knees in the air.

“Please, I beg you, do not hurt me! I’ll do anything! H-here, take my oranges!” He throws them at her, and she catches one, only to be struck in the face by the other two. Guy suppresses a grin, and quickly shouts, “My apologies! I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

An armor-clad individual suddenly pierces through the crowd, his hand on the hilt of his sword, the crest on his armor telling them he was a Syliran Knight. This had gotten out of hand.

“What’s going on here?” Asked the knight, half drawing his sword. As quick as lightening, the boy and girl stand up, side by side, hands wrung behind them.

“Nothing, sir. But a game, sir. Just playing, sir.” Said Guy. Just what I needed... I hope I don’t get in trouble...

“A game, eh? Well, you’re disturbing the peace.” He returned his sword to its scabbard and turned around, briskly trotting away.

[Guy Laliberte]

“Disturbing the peace... I’ll show him disturbing the peace...” Muttered the girl. Guy laughed, and clasped his hand around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. Many of them were confused, but a few were laughing, thinking that the guard was part of the show. They dropped a few Miza in Guy’s bag and walked away, with their daily dose of entertainment.

“How are you, Ara?” He asked, moving his hands off her back and picking up the two oranges that were dropped, they being nothing more than squishy messes now. He attempts to open one, peeling it and covering his hands with juice.

“I’m good, Guy. I didn’t see you yesterday, what happened?” Ara is smiling. She and Guy had been friends since they were six, their parents being close, or something like that. Ara’s dad was a local street performer as well, and he worked the area right inside the gate.

“Ah, my dad had me training all day. Juggling is hard work, you know.” He said, licking his hands.

“Oh come on, how hard can it be?” Ara says, laughing. “You’re just playing catch with yourself.”

“Hey, it’s a lot harder than that!” Exclaimed Guy. Ara making fun of his profession - this is insulting! “If it’s so easy, let’s see you try.” He bends down and picks up two rocks from the side of the street, handing them to her. “Two is easy - shouldn’t even be counted as juggling, really.” He picks up two more and starts juggling them, throwing one up into the air without much force, shifting the one in his left hand to his right, and throwing that one up as well, catching the first in his left and repeating the process. Rocks were harder than oranges, which in turn were harder than the juggling balls, on account of their misshapen features. However, the opposite was true about their weights. In that aspect, the rocks were smallest, and therefore easiest, with oranges being larger, and slightly heavier, and the balls being the heaviest - and largest. Ara watched Guy for a bit, then smirked, and said, “Easy.”

Throwing the two balls up, she blushes as they fly in opposite directions, one hitting the wall of a building and bouncing back, the other striking someone in the head. Both children turn around and whistle, trying to look inconspicuous, and the man mutters something and walks away. Giggling, Guy fetches the rock near the wall, and hands this and one of his own to Ara, maneuvering to get behind her. She blushes as he slips his hands under her arms, grasping her wrists, one in each hand. “Guy...”

Guy smiles, and says, “I’ll teach you to juggle. See, like this.” He gently pushes her hand, forcing her to let go of the rock. It seems to float in the air, coming back down in her other hand, which she clenches to keep the rock from ricocheting back onto the floor.

“Ah...” She blushes more, feeling his breath on his neck. “S-So.... Uhm...” Being this close... It felt... Nice...

“You have to aim the ball, so that it’s within reach of your other hand,” He instructs, oblivious to her feelings. “Although of course, these aren’t balls.” He pushes her left hand to her right, and tells her to let go of one of the rocks. “Your hands have to flow with the rocks - Making a chain, a circle, in the air, that goes from hand to hand to air and back.”

“Mm.” She says, and begins to juggle, her hands shaking. She drops one of the rocks, and bends down to get it, feeling Guy behind her. She blushes strongly and bolts back up, saying, “Ah... Sorry...”

“For what?” He said, once more oblivious. He lets go of her wrists and bends down to pick up the rock, offering it to her. He sees her blushing, and says, “Don’t worry. Juggling is pretty hard, and you’re gonna make a bunch of mistakes.” Smiling reassuringly, he goes to his pack and drops to the ground, legs crisscrossed, counting the Miza he earned.

Ara, meanwhile, stands still, rocks in her hand. She attempts to control her breathing, and calms down, face returning to normal. Stupid boys... She thinks, furiously. They’re so clueless...

“Ah... Is that my dad calling me?” She looks off into the distance, as if hearing a voice. Guy had heard nothing, and said so.

“No... I think that is him. I have to go, bye!” She rushes off, running down the street near the gate. Guy sighs and goes back to counting. Stupid girls... He thinks. They’re so confusing...

[Guy Laliberte]

At dawn, Guy heads back to his house. Looking around, he sees nobody on the street - not one person - which is quite odd. Normally the pedestrian traffic thickens as the denizens of the city return to their homes. Odd. Very odd.

Guy walks up the short steps to his “porch”, which was little more than a single plank before the door, and tried opening the door. At the same time, he puts his bag down on the porch. The door was locked, and the doorknob jiggled but would not budge. Sighing, Guy steps back onto the street and goes to the alley to the right of their home. He looks about, searching for the rock behind which there was an extra key. Footsteps - the first he heard since returning to his house - were audible. Coming straight to him. Whirling around without getting the key, Guy assumes the combat position that his father had been teaching him. Both arms extended out, hands bent at ninety-degree angles to his arms, palms facing outwards, he stands with his feet about a foot apart, and shaped like an ‘L’. This was an unarmed combat style developed by his ancestors, or something like that. Truthfully, Guy thought his father had just learned it from someone.

The man he saw was a well built man, about 6’2”, with a long, dark cloak on. In the fading light, Guy could not see the color, but it may have been a dark brown or blue, possibly bordering on black. His face was well concealed beneath a hood, the only thing visible was a chin, with facial growth that made it obvious the man had not shaved in at least a week, but it was not quite yet a beard.

Whoever this man was, he obviously had hostile intentions, for he was wielding a small knife, or possibly a dagger, and was slowly advancing on Guy now that he was seen. Breathing slowly in, through his nose, and out, through his mouth, Guy concentrated on this man, wondering what he could want, wondering why he hadn’t spoken yet. When the man was about ten feet away, Guy broke the silence.

“Who are you? What do you want?” He asks, his voice a bit shaky. When it came down to it, Guy was not in a very good position. Not only was he smaller and weaker than this man, but no doubt the man had better experience fighting than he did. Not to mention that the man had a scary dagger, while Guy had nothing but his hands.

“You Guy?” He asked, in a gruff voice, but from the look of surprise on Guy’s face, he already knew the answer.

“H-How do you know my name?”

“I was sent by someone.”

“For what?”

“To kill you!” The man lunges at the word ‘kill’, and Guy sidesteps and pushes on the mans side. This didn’t do much except push his away, and the force of his push made Guy move back as well, opening space between the two.

“Why? What’d I do?” The man turned slowly, holding the dagger in his hand with the point facing himself. Odd way to hold a dagger... Thought Guy. Wonder if he even knows how to use it...

“It’s nothing you did. Nothing personal, kid. I was just told what to do.” Lunging once more, Guy was caught off guard, listening to the man speak. The dagger sliced through his side, ripping his clothes, but the man evidently missed, as Guy felt no pain and no blood as he touched the spot.

“That was my only shirt, you jerk!” Like he cares about your stupid laundry. You could die and all you care about is your stuff? Taking offense this time, Guy ducks as another swipe heads his way, and sideswipes at the mans legs, hooking the back of his knee with his foot. The man sprawls down and forward, falling on top of Guy, with the knife to his throat. That’s it. I’m done for. Good bye, world. Good bye, Dad. Good bye, Ara...

[Guy Laliberte]

The man attacking Guy starts to laugh. He’s enjoying this, isn’t he? Enjoying the hunt. Bastard, kill me already and get it over with!

“Get up, boy,” He said, letting go of both the knife and Guy, pushing the latter up so he could stand, and letting the former clatter to the ground.

“W-What? I don’t understand...”

“Don’t you recognize me, Guy?” The man flips his hood behind him, letting his long brown hair cascade down. Grinning, he calls out, “Jionn, it appears your boy’s dimmer than you take him to be!”

His father steps from behind the other alley on the left of his house, in his normal clothes, and smiles. “Don’t underestimate him, Erron. He almost took you down.”

Guy recognized the man now as Erron, Ara’s father, and a fellow entertainer. He didn’t know that he knew how to use a dagger. Odd skill for a street performer. Then again, so is martial arts. Smiling, he hugs Erron and his father. His father lifts up Guy’s left arm, looking at the tear in his shirt. “About time to teach you to sew.”

“There’s one thing I don’t get. Why did Erron attack me? I’m assuming you told him to - but, why?”

“To teach you a lesson, Guy. You must be prepared for everything and anything that may happen. Also, to tell me that you need more work on your combat. The way he cut you - if he hadn’t been actually friendly, you’d be gushing blood out of your lung.”

Grimacing at the gruesome image of his body lying on the ground, struggling to breathe, he pushes it out of his head, instead asking, “So, what’s for dinner?”

Laughing, Jionn pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the door. “Oranges and bread,” He says, the scent already wafting out the open doorway. “And then, training.” Groaning, Guy walks inside, wishing Erron adieu, and eats his supper with his father.

[Guy Laliberte]

They step once more outside, with lighting from a lantern they hung from the banister of their “porch”. Guy and Jionn face each other, shirtless, with the cool night air raising goosebumps on their skin.

“Tighten your stance.” Instructs Jionn. What does that even mean? Thought Guy. Tightening the muscles in his arms and legs, he hardens his stance. “Good. Your legs should be farther apart.” Guy moves them from a foot apart to about a foot and a half apart. “Good. Tighten your fingers, you don’t want them breaking.” Guy tightened his fingers, keeping them pressed together, but still flat.

“Strike me.” Said Jionn, and Guy advanced, slowly circling his father. He alternates foots, always keeping the ‘L’ shape, the flat part parallel to his father. He lashes out, curling his hand into a fist at the last second. Jionn’s arm twirls around Guys as it comes towards him, wrapping around it like a snake, and then he bends his elbow, causing Guy’s elbow to bend as well, deflecting the blow and comically making him punch himself in the gut.

“Ow!” Exclaims Guy. He had put a lot of force into that throw. Sighing, he backs off, gets back into position, and waits for further instruction.

“You must be prepared for the enemies counter-attack, and counter it.” Jionn grins at his joke. “Counter-counter attack.” Jionn lunges at Guy, palm thrust outward, and Guy attempts the same move that was just used on him. Twining his arm around his fathers, he pushes down, but is met with resistance. He had evidently started on the wrong side, and Jionns elbow was not in a position where Guy could make it bend. Sighing, he loosens his grip and backs off again. It was fairly dark, the only light coming from the lantern, and Guy yawned. He had taken his precious time eating, trying to postpone the lesson, and now his digestion was telling him he needed to sleep.

“Father... I’m tired. Can we learn more tomorrow? I got a fair amount of Miza today, so you may not need to work.”

“Alright... Get some sleep then.” Jionn places his hand between Guy’s shoulder blades, ushering him inside. On the way in, Guy picks up his pack and hands it to his father, saying, “Money’s in here.” Taking the pack, Jionn goes to the table and sets it down, opening it and counting the Miza. Guy, meanwhile, goes to this cot and collapses onto it, for once getting an early sleep. As he drifts off, he can’t help but think about Ara. Why had she run off? It was obvious her father wasn’t anywhere near there... Perhaps she’ll explain... Tomorrow...

[Leviathan]

Thread Award! Guy Exp +1 Juggling, +1 Rhetoric, +1 Acting, +1 Teaching, +2 Unarmed Combat Lore Humor Tactics: Orange on the Head, Expecting the Expected Additional Comments Nice thread. If you have questions or comments about me or my grading, feel free to PM me. Keep up the good work!