Description: Following her SNF debut and her fight against Daigo, with Ingrid, the famed Gedo student Acacia Gillespie seeks out Adira for a chat...
Boot soles crunch against hard-packed earth.
A slim figure walks from the shadow of the school building, making her way into the grounds.
The courtyard of most schools in Southtown are nicely paved. The entrance to Seijyun is even professionally landscaped, with lawns, flowers and hedges worthy of any botanical garden. But the land within the Gedo High walls is just solid dirt and soil, with occasional slabs of poured concrete. An eminently practical thing, all considered - after all, it sees heavy use. And abuse.
The student body is out in force today. As it is every day. It's a weekend, no doubt, but that just means there are even more students hanging around outside the building. A violent melee of what is either a grand brawl or a game of street basketball occupies one corner of the yard. The presence of battered metal hoops and the occasional glimpse of an orange sphere somewhere in the fray lends some weight to the 'game' theory, but it's always hard to tell with Gedo.
A few of the onlookers, though, stop as the new arrival catches their attention. The crowd of male students turn, even a couple of the players glance off the court - until quelled by an annoyed hand gesture, at least. A quiet mid-alto voice asks a question. A few of the boys voice an answer.
Then Acacia turns, heading to the end of the yard she was pointed to. Her eyes narrowing, as she looks for someone.
If Acacia is looking for one of the new students--a girl by the name of Adira Sen'ou--then she has, indeed, found her.
Perhaps not immediately visible, at that--she is of above average height, but still, Gedo lends itself largely to bigger boys, and the yard is full of them. But she's there, nonetheless.
In fact, she's currently sitting on one of those aforementioned concrete slabs--really, the 'ceiling' to a low, half-buried maintenance building, its rooftop serves as a mesa in the yard, a place where kids who can reach it go to eat, to hang out. She's sitting on the 'near' edge to Acacia, one leg pulled up to be bent, the other dangling off.
Oh yeah, and she's wearing a boy's school uniform. Sort of. Even from a distance, she seems friendly enough; talking and laughing with a small group of Gedo kids, boys and girls both, while eating--a sandwich, mind you, and a soda, nothing fancy.
Knuckles rap against concrete. The sound isn't loud over the background noise in the yard, but it's just audible enough to catch attention. Acacia stands at the base of the old building, knocking one hand against the surface.
Combat boots scuff against the dirt as Acacia adjusts her weight, leaning against the low wall. She tilts her head upward, peering at the students resting above - her gaze stopping on one girl in particular. Acacia's dark eyes narrow fractionally, behind the silver fall of her bangs.
In a mild voice, she asks, "Sen'ou?"
There are certain things one becomes attuned to. Things that seeing, or hearing, draw automatic reaction. Adira's family... was a very military family. Not in the sense of service, persay--although it was certainly true when her parents were younger--but in how she was raised. Whenever her parents called her by last name...
She knew they were pissed off. Of course, there's a milder voice saying her name now, but she's certainly grown used to hearing her name, and the reaction is immediate; she stops talking, holding up a hand, and glances down, and to the side.
"... Yeah, that's me. Adira Sen'ou." Notably, even though she has one of those Japanese last names, she gives her name in the Western style.
Silver hair... she'd heard some stories. Some comparisons were made--not out of physical likeness, but out of attitude and other vague similarities. And Adira was trained to recognize and remember names, faces, and descriptions.
To her friends she smiles. "Talk to you later." Then she hops down, landing lightly on her feet.
"You must be Acacia Gillespie."
If Adira's from a military background, for Acacia, it has to be doubly so. She's even wearing an old camouflage jacket, a surplus fatigue top with the sleeves rolled up. Beneath the oversized jacket, she's dressed more normally in t-shirt and jeans, but those are quite distinctly leather combat boots on her feet. Polished, but bearing the subtle scuffs and nicks of long service.
Acacia lifts one hand in vague approximation of a salute, touching the tips of two fingers to her brow. Leaning against the concrete wall, her head remains lifted a little so she can look the other girl in the eye. Adira's younger, but more than a little taller. Fortunes of genetics.
"Mm," Acacia nods, after a moment.
"I must be," she adds, with a faintly ironic lilt.
Adira gives Acacia the 'once over', affecting a sterner, harder look. Then, abruptly, she smiles. It's an open, friendly smile.
"Nice to meet you, Acacia," she says, finding herself subconsciously returning the salute, before she can stop herself. Well, military brats tend to do that kind of thing.
Adira leans against the low wall, herself, digging one shoulder into the concrete and then rolling her back into it, soaking up some heat.
"So. What can I do for you?" It seems pretty obvious to her--plain, expected--that Acacia didn't just come to make a social call.
She might be surprised. Though it depends, of course, on what one considers to be social.
Acacia's body language is relaxed, though. There's no tension in her as she tilts her head, her eyes shutting for a moment before opening again - and meeting Adira's gaze. Acacia shrugs slightly, a small motion of the arms and shoulders, palms turned upwards.
"Talk," she says, dryly, with the faint hint of a smile.
Then she arches an eyebrow in the direction of the other students perched atop the concrete platform - more than a few there eavesdropping in rather thinly-veiled curiousity.
"If I'm not interrupting."
"Interrupting what?" asks Adira, lightly, before stuffing the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. Chew, chew chew chew, chew, swallow. Finish off the soda, crumple the can with a practiced movement, toss it into the bag for the whole thing to go into the trash later.
"Not interrupting anything, really. So... talk. Here? Or somewhere else?" Certainly, she's willing to talk; null perspiration on that front. Taking the hint, she glances around, with a grin.
"Like I said--wanna go somewhere else? Rooftop? Classroom?" She seems as relaxed, though there's a line of curious tension that curves her forward.
"Smaller audience," Acacia says, blandly, with a significant glance to the onlookers, "less noise."
She says the last as the noise from the crowd clustered around the basketball game reaches a new ear-shattering high, that mix of victorious yells and angry hisses, the sure sign that someone's scored.
Acacia kicks off the wall, turning on a heel. She slides her hands part of the way into her pockets, looping her thumbs into the denim. The trailing end of her oversized camo coat flaps faintly as she starts to walk, tossed by the same breeze that sends stray strands of hair aflutter. With slow strides, Acacia heads towards the main school building.
Without turning, she continues to speak.
"Though I'm sure it'll make the gossip anyway."
"Right," agrees Adira. She falls into step just behind the walking, silver-haired girl, sliding her own free hand into a front pocket, the other still carrying the remnants of her lunch.
Her own jacket, left untucked and unclosed, flaps a little, but Adira doesn't seem to notice.
"Gossip? Here?" she makes the tone light, but the message should be clear--she doesn't really care. "I guess. Dunno that much 'bout you, and I'm too new to have too much of a rep." Yet.
"So, anyways," she says, once the sound from the basketball game's died down, "Why'd you come to me? What I know 'bout you suggests you're a pretty damn strong fighter, and I know Gedo has its share of strong fighters..." Meaning, of course, Daigo's gang, and the GK... and some of the individuals around.
Acacia doesn't reply, not immediately. She glances over her shoulder as they near the building, arching an eyebrow at the other girl.
She doesn't speak. Instead, Acacia pushes through a side door into the building, ignoring the protesting screech from battered hinges. She holds it open long enough for Adira to come through...before letting it swing shut, slamming back to the frame with a faint echo that reverberates down the corridor.
"Gedo does," Acacia says, then, giving Adira a look, "but even then."
She makes a small gesture.
"Wouldn't say," she continues, "you don't have a...'rep'."
"Saw your last SNF," Acacia notes, pointedly.
Adira meets that gaze, more than a little curious now. The door slams behind her, that screaking sound so familiar to her... like the schools of her youth. Yes, this is why she loves Gedo High--it reminds her of Metro.
The half-Israeli quirks her own brow, and the corner of the left side of her mouth, casually tossing her trash into a trashbin.
"Ah, that. You mean, me and that Swedish chick vs. 'The Big Boss'." Adira full well knows Daigo's reputation. It would be difficult, nigh impossible, not to know it, being a Gedo student. Even the most studious and bookwormy of Gedo students knows Daigo.
"He's a tough customer. My honest opinion? Ingrid did more to win that fight than I did. Of course, there's no way either of us could've done for him alone." That's a pipe dream, though if she keeps working... well, someday, perhaps. It's a goal.
"I did alright. I knew the man was strong, but..." She whistles.
"He works out," Acacia says, laconically.
Well aware that it's an understatement.
Acacia nods, though, by way of agreement, the sort of simple acknowledgement that makes it clear she's been on the business end of Daigo's hammer fists herself. Her eyes don't l
Acacia nods, though, by way of agreement, the sort of simple acknowledgement that makes it clear she's been on the business end of Daigo's hammer fists herself. Her eyes don't leave Adira's face, though. She maintains eye contact, quite deliberately. Acacia's own features are still.
"But false modesty isn't becoming," Acacia states, folding her arms as she stands in the hallway.
"You survived. Good enough for SNF. And against Heinlein too," she adds, pronouncing Kain's name with some distaste.
A short laugh. "Yeah. Kain R. Heinlein. He is..." Well, she trails off. Undoubtedly, given the tone of Acacia's voice, she knows of Kain's strength, and isn't particularly approving of some aspect...
"Well, I'm not dead yet. So I must be doing something right, at least. Daigo..." She pauses, considering her words.
"I guess you're right. Against someone like him, just surviving is a major accomplishment," she acknowledges. "At least at my current level of strength... someday," she says, "I'll be strong enough to challenge him."
It isn't boasting, just quiet confidence in herself. And she did say challenge--not beat. "So," she says, leadingly, with a shrug in her voice and her shoulders.
"Why me?"
"Why not?"
Acacia throws it back, almost glibly. It's a childish verbal game, the sort of retort best found on the playground. It isn't exactly a rarified rebuttal, hardly an example of intellectual debate. Except for the fact there isn't anything immature in her tone. No, her facial expression is deadly serious, her voice perfectly level.
She rests one shoulder against the side of the corridor, leaning against a student's locker. Her arms remain crossed, but the fingers of one hand shift, rapping lightly against her bicep.
"You're better than most."
Acacia inclines her head in the direction of the door.
"Half the kids there..."
She looks back.
"...be /dead/ if they took what you did."
Acacia purses her lips, ever so slightly.
"And you're new. And female."
She pauses significantly, before asking:
"Don't think you're special?"
With layered meaning.
"Better than most," repeats Adira, confirming it. Yeah, she is better than most. In the upper 25% or so, perhaps. The air gets thinner the higher you go, of course.
"Dead? Maybe." She quirks her lips again.
"Probably none of them are 'special' enough to dare get into the ring with Daigo. Or Kain."
She makes a show of glancing down, at herself. "And yeah, I'm a girl."
"But the question remains: why me?"
"I am everything you said. But so are you. I'm not asking like I thinK I'm unworthy," she explains, "... just curious as to what you've got in mind."
"I'm brainwashing an army," Acacia responds, without any change in her voice.
"Taking over the world," she continues, watching Adira like a predator its prey.
She holds that pose for a heartbeat or two, before the corner of her mouth curves upwards in a barely perceptable shift, skin crinkling around her lips.
Then she shakes her head, ever so slightly.
"Nothing really," Acacia says, in a manner that, for her, passes for conversational. As if that little digression had never occured. "Just...wanted to know."
Unfolding her arms, Acacia extends a hand, fingers spread, the leather-clad palm of her motorcycle glove open.
"You're right. Have something in common."
"Well don't start with Gedo. Go to Taiyo, I hear they're complacent there. Should be easy." Deadpan, just like Acacia, Adira betrays her voice with a little quirky grin, before Acacia shows hers.
"Well, what do you want to know? I mean..." She pauses, again, then shrugs her shoulders.
"You watched the SNFs. Video, I guess, maybe you were there... so as far as that goes you've seen what I do. I've still got a long way to go. 'course..."
Shrug two.
"What you saw doesn't really tell you much 'bout me... if that's what you're getting at."
"Exactly," Acacia agrees, giving a little nod. Not much of one, but enough to underscore the point.
She doesn't bother to clarify how or why she was watching Adira's fights. Nothing unusual, really; there's enough of a following in the Gedo High girl's dormitories, and for obvious reasons the resident students are always willing to foist videos on the actual quasi-celebrity fighter living on their floor...whether she wants to watch them or not.
"Seen you fight," she says, "for what it's worth."
Acacia's gaze goes half-lidded.
"But...why? Do you do it. If you don't mind..."
Acacia taps her collarbone, indicating herself.
"...asking."
Ah, so that's it. Adira nods; she turns, leaning against the wall of the corridor. "Why? Hmm."
"It's in my blood. Literally. Both my parents... not fighters in the tournament sense of the word... well, not my mom. My dad did some, but he never went big in the public eye. Never wanted to."
"Mom was in the Mossad. Israeli intelligence," she explains, just in case Acacia didn't know.
"They met, married, retired. Had me. I'm the next generation, so they taught me everything the could. About fighting. About the world. I want to make the world a better place," she says.
"... but sometimes you gotta kick and bite to do it." Pause.
Adira looks sideways at Acacia. "Don't tell anyone I said that. I don't like spouting off about justice or right. Things... just need to be done."
"So... I do it for practice. For my own learning." A grin.
"And 'cause it's fun."
Acacia snorts, exhaling audibly through her nostrils. She looks down at the floor as she does, a wider grin breaking through her still features. She makes another sound, a muted noise from the throat that might be a stifled laugh.
Lifting her head, Acacia peers at Adira. She considers the other girl for a second, before nodding.
A moment later, she speaks, her voice slow.
"Was adopted," she murmurs, quietly, "by an old soldier. Raised. Trained."
She offers that, unbidden, returning the gesture. It's not her whole life story, but Acacia doesn't pretend it is. She makes eye contact with Adira as she speaks, though. Pronouncing the words carefully.
"Probably why," Acacia finishes, "I'm so screwed up."
She gives a little wave, tilting her hand at the wrist, pointing at herself from head to toe.
"Look fine to me," replies Adira, deliberately adopting Acacia's tone of voice, her method of speaking. It isn't done to mock--not at all. Simply done to create a better rapport with the other girl.
"You seem clean, at least." She could be a speed junkie or a PCP freak but she kind of doubts it.
"Military, huh. Probably tough, then," she obeserves, with a nod. Yeah, the military life runs through her family as well, an odd mix of traditions...
She's about to say more when the bell goes off. "Mn. Got class." Turning, she pulls out a pen, and a scrap of paper, jots down a number.
Turns again, and puts it in Acacia's hand. "Here. My cell number. Call me if you want." She begins to walk through the building, with a short wave as she goes.
Acacia grips the note between thumb and forefinger, before folding it and slipping into a pocket. She turns her head, calling down the corridor at Adira's turned back.
"Sure," Acacia replies, simply.
She just might.
Log created on 07:14:38 03/23/2008 by Adira, and last modified on 14:50:35 03/23/2008.