Training: Fists and Feet [Brenner, Eitan]

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Searing 64, 121

The gymnasium was Stefan's home ground, a place he knew well and where he was known, on sight, at least. Very little time was spent talking or being social on the floor or in the changing rooms offered at his local club, which boasted the largest private workout space in the city. It had been chosen for those reasons alone.

He had a private locker in the changing room, which held freshly laundered suits that were made to handle the sweat and exertion. Removing his work suit was a routine that allowed him to let go of the cares of the day and settle into a place where all he needed was motion.

His brother and soon-to-be-brother-in-law (if plans went forward as hoped) were to join him, as they had occasionally since they'd began making plans for the salvation of their nation. There was time though, perhaps half an hour before they were scheduled to meet in the sparring room he'd reserved for the three of them.
Brenner and Eitan were both active fighting men who were used to having to defend themselves regularly, but hand-to-hand fighting was something they rarely came about for Airmen. The decision to add this training time to their regime had been mutual, and it only made sense for Stefan to host the other two since he had a membership and it would be less likely to attract attention than if he came to the airbase to play at fighting.

Shutting his locker with a satisfying metallic click he made his way out to the main gymnasium area and began to run the track along the outside of the large, oblong room. Other men were running the track or using the equipment that filled the inside of the ring. Most knew to get out of his way once he got past his warm-up and really opened all cylinders. Running was something that helped him when nothing else could. When the voices in his head told him he could never live up to what was expected of him, when they screeched that he wasn't who he pretended to be, when they brought up every failure of his past, every fear for his future and threw them at him like a hail storm of self-hate, he ran.

He didn't run away from them, the running just made them stop, for a time. Even a little while after he'd finished moving, but during was when there was just silence in his mind, blessed silence.

The storms that caused the elder Dornkirk brother to curl up in a corner of his office at times had been less this season. Perhaps his upcoming nuptials accounted for it, perhaps the upcoming expedition, perhaps his father stepping back and letting him run the Windworks mostly unsupervised had helped as well.

By the time he had run himself loose and relaxed, it was time to meet in the sparring room. Grabbing a towel from the rack of clean ones he sponged down his face and hair before slinging it around his neck and making his way onto the mat floor designed to let you throw a man without harming him to await the arrival of his guests.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan had been to the sports club before. His father was a member and he supposed they would never turn him away, either allowing him in on his father's reputation or hoping he would be pleased and pay for his own membership. He might have, but he had the facilities at the barracks, and more at the Hall of Reconciliators should he choose to use them. Now that it seemed Delia and Stefan would finally wed, he had begun to wonder whether he oughtn't to start looking in earnest himself. A good wife would bear him children, more human than not, and perhaps his grandchildren would have no trace of his mother's shame; they could be beautiful, human children. He would need a home of his own, then. Eventually, Orilla would be the queen of the Angevin Estate and while they had a decent détente now, he thought it would be wise to be a welcome visitor rather than a resident of the space once it was nominally hers.

Then he would have a membership here and come on occasion, though he thought he would always appreciate the camaraderie of the barracks training facilities most of all.

Changing out of his uniform and into training fatigues, he waved off directions, and quickly downed a glass of water before walking to meet the Dornkirks. There was a pronounced bounce in his step as he began to wake his muscles up to a new level of alertness. Stefan had the edge in skill that would easily counter the slight advantage Eitan had in height and reach. While he could be good-natured in failure as it would be a learning experience, he didn't want to look weak or unskilled in front of the men trusting him for their grand expedition.

When he caught up with Stefan, Brenner hadn't yet arrived. The man was catching his breath, sweat slowly wicking away in the air.

"I hope you didn't wear yourself out overmuch, old sport," he called, clapping him on the shoulder as he came near. With a grin, he continued. "Though I suppose an old man like you ought to warm up and stretch out before Brynn and I double-team you." He winked.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner arrived latest of the three, albeit still more than five minutes early for their scheduled rendezvous time. By the time he'd reached the sparring room, he was in his ZADC PCUs, which matched with Eitan's gear as they were of common branch and rank. It was unusual to see Brenner Dornkirk out in public with bare arms, but upon removing his light jacket the trim, pale limbs looked moonlit even when gaslit. Stefan, at least, would likely notice how much more toned and sinewy they'd grown over the past few weeks since having had the expedition approved.

"Hail Zaichaer." Brenner announced, with the complementary salute, as he slipped in and shut the door behind him. He unshouldered his bag and tossed it against the wall before crouching to open and sift through the duffel. He withdrew a pair of sparring gloves, which he pulled on as he glanced over his shoulder to the others.

"Morning, gents." He offered, with no particular sense of warmth or camaraderie- Not because he was peeved with his comrades, but because the day was young and Brenner had not availed himself of enough caffeine to happily socialise. Not even with his two favourite mates in all of Ransera.

"Sorry I'm..." He checked the wall clock, "...less early." He rose to a stand, tightening his gloves as he drew closer to the other two. He glanced about their surroundings. He'd visited Stefan's gym with him in the past, but he typically used the facilities offered by the State for its protectors. One of the many boons Brenner found in living in a police state was that the military- especially officers- were offered state-of-the-art facilities, which regularly upgraded their already trendsetting equipment. Even expensive, private gyms like the one they currently occupied had trouble keeping up, though this one seemed to fare better than most.

He stretched his arms as he moseyed over to the ring in the centre of the room.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

When his soon-to-be-brother caught up to him, Stefan flashed him a rare grin and accepted the affectionate jibing as though pleased by it.

A flash of red stormed across his face at the last comment, though he could not have said why. He was grateful for the excuse of just having run to hopefully cover the change to his coloring as they entered the training room shoulder-to-shoulder.

The elder Dornkirk was finding it pleasant to have a friend in the way he'd seen Brenner have so many over the course of their childhoods. Forming close bonds was not something Stefan did with ease, a problem exacerbated by the fact that forming loose bonds was something he found nearly impossible. If there was a structure in place, Manager to Employee, Military Superior to Subordinate, Government or Familiar hierarchical structure, he could find his place and fit comfortably, but when in society as a common whole he felt like a bird thrown into deep water and expected to know how to fly there.

It was particularly nice that Eitan paid enough attention that he wasn't upset or insulted when Stefan's responses to his conversation were facial expression or body language more often than spoken word. In this case, several snappy replies to the teasing came into his mind but, as was often the case, he couldn't decide between them until after it would have been awkward to answer so he just raised one brow in playful challenge.

Brenner's arrival cut off more immediate banter as his elder brother's eyes moved to follow him through the motion of removing his cover jacket. It was easy to see that the two younger men had taken the advent of the expedition seriously just looking at their bodies. Stefan was less familiar with Eitan's form but Brenner was leaner, tighter than he had been in Glade. The younger Dornkirk had never been anything like overweight but there was a sleekness to him now that was new.

Stefan too set aside his jacket and began going through the motions of stretching, giving Eitan another look, daring him to comment, before the two other men joined him. Teasing aside they all knew the importance of ensuring their bodies were ready for what they intended to put them through. An injury this close to take-off day would be unacceptable.

Once they were all loose and properly equipped with gloves Stefan stepped into the ring.

"Let's say to touch, shall we? Three to a match." There would be punches thrown but they should all know enough not to harm each other. "We'll switch out with the winner of each facing the new man, whoever is outside the ring makes the calls. Fair?" When he got nods in response to the style, which both men would be familiar with, at least passingly, from the basic training at the Academy,

"You two go first, I want to see what I'm working with."

[Eitan Angevin]

"How very dare...?" he asked Brenner, though he was mild. He could recognize a night owl. They were frequently hooting to all hours together. He just seemed incapable of sleeping in, though he would occasionally find times for a nap, especially given he was utilizing vacation time to prepare for the expedition.

Eitan was still trying to process Stefan's blush. Quiet men had secrets, he supposed; he wasn't sure he ought to practice his spycraft upon a friend, though. At least, he thought of Stefan as a friend. Their age difference had precluded that when they were young, but now they were united by a common purpose and their shared history was, at least a sort of foundation.

But he began to stretch in earnest, as well. He nodded along with Stefan's laying of the groundwork. He was, after all, the better man when firearms and blades weren't involved. A glance at Brenner made him wonder what he himself would look like if Friederike had been his mother, not some Dratori trash that had seduced his father. His half-sisters were all fairer than he was, and had some red in their hair. He was the odd one out in almost every way. And now these men were more his brothers than two of his three sisters were his sisters.

He did hope that Stefan married Delia. Their strengths and weaknesses seemed to complement each other and then Eitan would be another step closer to the idea of being included.

"All right," he said, all stretched, a bit warm, and fists prepared. He slipped between the ropes and continued to move and stretch until Brenner was ready.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Ghastly of me, I know." Brenner shrugged blithely and paused his saunter as he reached the ring, turning to face his brother as the simple rules were laid out. "Works for me." He conceded, and started to step away assuming the last to arrive would participate in round two. He arched an eyebrow and shifted his gaze back toward Stefan,

"My brother the voyeur." He pivoted back toward the ring, "Very well." He said through a chortle as he climbed up and rolled under the ropes. He made his way to the centre of the ring, eying Eitan as the taller man made his approach. It was odd to think they hadn't sparred regularly of late. They'd certainly had their days of grappling and pugilism in younger days, but that had been when Brenner had height on Eitan. He knew, at a glance, his old friend would be at the advantage with those long, lanky limbs. He hadn't gotten those traits from the admiral, Brenner thought with a scowl as he took position and assumed his stance.

"How shall we start this, then?" Brenner asked, raising his voice so that Stefan could hear from the floor as well. "Are we getting a count in from our Steferee?" The younger brother punned with a playful smirk and a wink cast toward his soon to be opponent.

In truth, Brenner hadn't been looking forward to this session. He hated to be at a disadvantage, and he knew that he was the least skilled of the three present. That was the purpose of this training, of course, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing in practise. Ah, the things Brenner Dornkirk put himself through in the name of the State.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan blushed, because, of course, he did. He rolled his eyes, which he was sure made him look more offended rather than expressing that he was unaffected by his brother's quip. Pushing the entire miniature exchange out of his mind he turned his attention to the two fighting-fit men.

When the question of beginning was broached he did count them in, a slow backward of five ending in the word, 'fight'. He had no flair for the dramatic so there was no exclamation to the command. The two circled as they had inevitably been taught, keeping their guards up as they looked for an opening. It was only in seeing them as they were then that he realized how great the difference in their heights actually was.

Stefan tended to imagine Brenner as taller than he actually was, a reflection of how his brother stood in his mind's eye no doubt. Remembering that the younger Dornkirk brother was shorter than the elder was hard enough, but seeing him now in comparison with Eitan, who he's always remembered as being small, was quite a shock.

Advice for Brenner bloomed in his mind but he wasn't sure if he was actually supposed to be instructing during, or only offering suggestions after the fact. As the pair came to blows he moved around the outside of the ring with them, watching stance and footwork, trying not to flinch or verbally interfere until one strike landed under the attempted guard the other and they dropped their arms.

Stepping a little closer he gave a suggestion to each as to what he had noticed most needed improvement then counted them back in. The pattern continued until one man had struck the other thrice. All the blows were glancing, though it was easy to see, in their current state of informal dress, that any of them could do real damage if it was called for.

Thinking about the fact that it likely would be called for soon, that all their lives might depend on the work they did in this room sobered Stefan as he bent down to enter the ring. Touching gloves with his opponent he made himself relax and concentrate. It was a bit unfair that he'd already observed his query but they would all gain the same advantage as the hours wore on, and holding back would be a disservice to their purpose. They were counted in and he came out swinging.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan didn't tend to notice how he had outpaced Brenner in the vertical growth department. At first, he had been smug, but now he only noticed when they were in close physical proximity, which tended to be when they were drinking conspiratorially. And then, he enjoyed it because their bodies fit like puzzle pieces when he put his arm companionably around the other commander's shoulders.

Even now, in the ring, he didn't really notice it. He marked it, knowing he would have a slight advantage in reach, but his fighting stance involved crouching to lower his center of gravity, so it was less pronounced. What Stefan saw from his vantage was known only to him. Brenner didn't seem pleased at all, whether from the late night or something else.

They both made a decent show of it, he thought. They both scored on each other, neither of them flailing about like complete idiots despite neither of them having Stefan's skill. Eitan managed to land his third blow first, though, which only meant that his reward was a likely beating from Brenner's big brother. He didn't jibe at Brenner, knowing him to be a bit of a sore loser. Instead, he eyed the bigger brother. Adjusting his hand wrappings even though he totally wasn't nervous, he just prepared himself for the inevitable loss. He would still do his best and try to learn from the failure, but he couldn't see how he would win this one unless he fought dirty and the only ways he could think to fight dirty in this situation would probably damage the burgeoning friendship he had with Stefan.

"All right, don't be gentle, but please don't rearrange my face such that I'm never able to attract a wife, all right?" He chuckled and dropped down into his fighting stance, adjusting it per Stefan's previous corrections so it wasn't identical to his fighting stance with a blade in hand. There were similarities, but they were not the same.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

A lengthy and colourful string of Kathalan expletives heralded Brenner's loss to Eitan. Even so, the red-faced Air Commander stepped forth and through gritted teeth said:

"Well done, Eitan." And shook the hand of the victor, before quitting the ring and patting Stefan on the shoulder.

"Dezimiere ihn!" Brenner suggested in a sharp whisper as he paused at Stefan's side, and then with a second pat he marched over to seat himself on a bench. He chugged down some water and settled himself in to observe the onslaught. Placing his water to the side, he clapped his hands a few times, watching Eitan and Stefan square off.

"Avenge me, Stef!" He cracked a grin, already able to make a joke of his loss. Eitan, one could see, didn't have the same height advantage with Stefan as he'd had with Brenner. And it was understood between the three of them that Stefan was the most experienced unarmed combatant, with Brenner being more of a seasoned rifleman as well as being capable with a cutlass or sabre.

It wasn't that he'd never been trained with his fists and feet, but that he'd so rarely occasioned to use them since those days of training which were long in the past. Weapons were part of his uniform and he'd never been in a situation where he'd lost his weapon and still been able to fight on. The only instance that even came to mind was when eldritch forces robbed him of his sidearm, but he was also charmed against aggressing against the attackers. This was, of course, during the Rathari incident of Glade when the pidge prince's puppy had been impounded by an opposing cadre of wretches who were as keen to flout the laws of Zaichaer as Talon's delegation- Perhaps more so. Whatever the case, it had been a while since he'd engaged in fisticuffs, and so he was very attentive to Stefan's technique as sparred with Eitan.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

While all three boys had received the same training at the Academy, and presumably similar as cadets before graduating as full Airmen, Stefan's body seemed to have a knack for the use of itself as a weapon, and as such, had been encouraged by his superiors to pursue the art farther.

Even after leaving his short stint as a uniformed officer Stefan had found he enjoyed keeping himself in fighting form. Usually here, at his club, with other men of similar rank looking for a workout. Occasionally he had found himself in need of the knowledge when out of a night drinking. These instances had almost always been in the company of his brother and, Stefan suspected, instigated intentionally by Brenner when the younger Dornkirk wanted to see someone he found offensive get their nose bashed in.

His mind carefully sectioned itself off. One part no longer seeing Eitan as anything but the moving target a man made when he attempted to avoid being struck while also trying to land one of his own. A second decidedly did acknowledge that it was Eitan across from him and watched for ways Stefan might instruct the younger man to better enable him to protect himself even as it pulled punches so as not to do any real harm. There were other parts, other things being kept at bay or functioning on their own but these two were the only ones he needed at the moment, so they came to share the fore of his mind, control his limbs.

The bout did not last long, but was made longer by Stef calling halts several times to show how he'd evaded a blow or how one he had made could be evaded. His inevitable victory wasn't something he felt proud of, but being able to teach was. Brenner took his turn and was defeated in turn, the two men watching and sparing with Stefan alternately until the thickest of the three called a halt to hydrate and suggested Brenner and Eitan have at it again. They were much closer in skill level and it seemed sensible that they would learn from each other as much as being beaten repeatedly.

After he had his breath Stefan held up a hand as he watched and said,

"I have an idea. None of us is likely to end up fighting alone where we plan to go," It was the most he would elude to their planned destination, "why don't you two come at me together? Learning combined tactics is like to do more real good than sparring one on one, what do you say?"