Who

Evka, Ulrika

What

Evka and Ulrika cross paths in the sparring room.

When

It is midmorning of the first day of the fourth month of the seventeenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Weyr, Sparring Room

OOC Date 12 Jun 2019 04:00

 

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"Ma'am? You do outrank me now, you know that right?"


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Sparring Room

The sparring room of the guard barracks is wide and square, with a high vaulted ceiling. The floor is wooden, the stain and varnish long since worn off. All manner of weapon that one could imagine the Pernese training with line one wall, open use for those that are there for practice. There are also the expected punching bags and dummies, as well as padded mats to prevent anyone from busting their behind. Near the door a few benches are set out for a person to catch their breath. Sweat and body permeate the overall atmosphere.


It's a cold-ish morning in Southern Weyr and instead of attending to the mountain of hidework she has waiting for her, Evka's decided to go down to the sparring room for a bit of a workout before she begins a day of hides and cross-eyed disbelief. She's in hide pants, boots and a sleeveless tank. her hands are wrapped better than they were the other night, though there's bandaging under the wrapping. She'd done quite the number on her knuckles and has no intention of repeating the action. It's quiet when she enters and she's grateful, having been wanting to avoid the guard's training hour. She begins a set of stretches, sitting on the floor and reaching for her toes in different positions.

The chill in the air is a good thing; it just means Ulrika can push a little harder before it gets too hot. While she has her own hidework to tend to, she also needs to meet with the guard captain. It just so happens that the meeting is later, which gives her ample time to work out her mounting aggressions in the sparring room on the practice dummies and heavy bags. A quick change later and she's in the sparring room proper, in shorts and a tank top, with hands and bare feet wrapped. She does pause at the sight of Evka, though; they might both visit the place, but rarely do their schedules sync up like this. "Ma'am," is offered along with a salute. Ulrika has no knot on her and, with that, the usual - the traditional - rules do not apply.

Evka looks up when Ulrika enters, and coincidentally salutes right about the same time. Evka follows protocol, knot or no. The fact that they greet at the same time has Evka chuckling. "Ma'am? You do outrank me now, you know that right?" Still, there's a relaxed smile for the Jr Weyrwoman and Evka stands, finishing out her stretch routine in a few yoga like positions.

"Aye, well. No knot on my shoulder right now," Ulrika points out with a quirked smile. "It's polite, regardless." Guard territory is a strange thing, really; and it might be different at Ista than it is here, but she holds to it. While the Weyrsecond settles into her stretches, Ulrika starts in on her own, a familiar routine starting at the neck and working all the way down in a gradual process. "Reckon we're going to see more than a few women coming here to work things out," she observes obliquely, while stretching her arms out a bit.

Evka nods. "I'm betting you're right." is agreed with a chuckle. Routine finished, she moves towards a punching bag and begins a few warm up rounds. "I just need a workout where I'm not getting side-eyed."

"You and me both," Ulrika replies, her tone uncharacteristically grim. Stretches transition into calisthenics, though it's nothing strenuous thus far. Just a calculated sequence of bodyweight exercises that are plenty sufficient to finish warming up. "Reckon I should apologize for one small thing," she remarks after Evka's started laying into the punching bag. "Been hearing that the guards have been reporting more issues with those Telgari riders. But from what I'm hearing, it's not M'kel as is reviewing the hidework." Her sources could be wrong, of course, and her tone suggests as much. In truth, she hopes they're wrong.

Evka listens as she begins her workout, but as Ulrika continues, she slows to a stop. When Ulrika speaks her last, Evka looks around conspiratorially, just to make sure they're alone, even looking up in the rafters for flizzen. "He's not, it's all on my desk. It's nothing I can't handle, I did it when Va'os was down, so I've had this workload before. And never you worry, it's probably best I see the reports rather than M'kel anyway. I'm still Weyrsecond and I still have the authority to dole out a punishment or ten." She grins and goes back to punching.

A final sequence of exercises is pushed through and Ulrika pauses at the end to check her wraps and the state of her bun - still severe, still pristine. Their state of aloneness is one she checked earlier, but there's a sense of approval that Evka thinks to do the same. "Good," she intones, jaw tight for just a moment. "I asked the captain to have the guards be more alert to the issues, to spread word among the weyrfolk as best they could to get more information on it. Not sure how much it's working, but I reckon I've seen more hides full of notes these past few sevens," months? She frowns; time is a slippery beast when things are dire, "than I have in all my turns as a guard." She moves to a heavy bag to start in on it, a few testing jabs followed by harder, solid slugs. "I'm glad you're not afraid to throw your weight around as needed, Evka. Let me know if there's anything we can do to support you, aye?"

Evka chuckles dryly. "Send M'kel back to Telgar maybe?" She asks in no way seriously, they're stuck with him until the next time the senior rises and is caught by someone else. "Glad to know I'm not the only one trying to keep things from crumbling in the background. I'm not so sure of things as they are." She's quiet then for a while as she finishes out her routine with the punching bag, quietly taking her rage out on something that won't get her landed in the brig.

"If I could, I would. Just haul him over Theidith's back, trussed neat as you please, to drop him off at their Weyr's entrance." The words are hissed, broken up by the measured impact of one fist, then the other, against the bag. Ulrika's words dip into a growl, but not aimed at Evka, "You're not alone, aye. I reckon Ryott's got her ear to the ground as regards to domestic matters," the division of labor being what it is, it's likely no secret that Ryott's wrangling the Headwoman and her staff, "and I'd be surprised if folks don't start pushing back some as the hatching draws nearer." With the wildlings, the decree, the low candidate numbers… it might not be a lot of pressure, but it's building. It's her turn to lapse into silence after, her efforts doubling down to beat the stuffing out of the bag. The fury might be controlled, but there is a lot of it to vent.

Evka is eyeing the punching bag for a moment before she begins again, this time a bit more visciously than before. "Ha… I'd pay to see that happen." She says of M'kel being trussed up and dropped off. "Doubt his bronze would ever allow it though." Evka rolls her eyes and soon has the punching bag swaying so that she has to dodge to avoid it, and be a bit more careful with her hits. She seems to avoid the bag easily enough, old dancing skills allowing her to weave and dodge quite effectively. "How are you and Ryott fairing as Jrs? I'm not as involved now that you aren't Weyrlings anymore."

The slugging intensifies for a moment, hard hits swapped out for a flurry of punches. Ulrika pauses after to catch her breath, knuckles of one hand pressed to the bag. "Aye, well. Theidith is a force of nature when she wishes to be. As it is, I doubt that bronze will rise to chase in the next Senior flight." Somehow, some way, they'll find a way to prevent him. The tall blonde steps away from the bag a little, gaining some distance before she starts to kick it, front kicks and roundhouses laid into it with the same degree of ferocity. She's not nearly as elegant in her movements; she's brute efficiency, through and through. "Can't speak of Ryott much, but I reckon she's doing well enough." But of herself? "Could be better, aye. I'm no fan of hidework, never have been, so." She's surviving. "And you?"

Evka rolls a look at Ulrika that might suggest she'd rather be dead than dealing with all the BS right now. The momentary lapse in focus has the punching bag hitting her hard in the side and with a grunted "OOOOF!" She's knocked on her behind and cussing through the weezing breaths she's taking. She's alright, just had the wind knocked out of her a bit. "Sh-shells that hurt…." She groans when she can talk and stand up. But that's what she gets.

She definitely expected that look, but Ulrika (perhaps to her credit) doesn't crack a grin at the other woman's misfortune. It's just filed away, even as she lands another kick - and holds there, balanced on a foot, fists up, while Evka's laid out by her own bag. Brows lift abruptly and she eases her foot down, only to pad over to wehre the other woman is left to wheeze on the floor. "Aye, well. Better than a gut punch," she reckons, glancing at the bag. Then it's down to Evka again, a hand offered to help her up should she need it. "Should've clarified there. Other than shoveling the shit that man makes, how're you doing?" Her mouth pulls to a side. Pensive: "Aye, but he's making a lot of it, isn't he. Be surprised if the wildlings don't just-" she trails there, grimacing a little at some thought or another.

Evka gladly takes the hand up and nods in agreement to Ulrika's first. "Aye, there's leagues of shit to be shoveled, but other than that I'm mostly fine. Might be stiff later…" SHe takes a big breath and is relieved when stabbing pain isn't the result. Nothing broken or bruised then. Or at least, not badly bruised. "Serves me right for not paying attention."

There's a grunt for that and Ulrika waits until it seems that Evka's alright before she looks for her skin of water and a small towel to dry off with. "It happens," she intones along the way. "But, aye, it's a reminder of what happens when a body gets complacent." An ugly reminder all the way around, really. She takes a pull from her water before offering it to the other woman, brows quirked. "As long as you're good, that's what matters, aye?"

Evka takes the chance to do the same as Ulrika and nods in ascent. "Aye, I suppose you've got the right of it there." SHe moves to the communal water pitcher and pours herself a glass, one arm cradling her side a bit. She looks at the candle that marks the hours with a groan. "I'm going to have to head out soon… that hidework isn't doing itself." She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. Mentally preparing. "I'll keep an eye out for more guard reports."

There's a grunt, a nod, and Ulrika towels her face off, only to drape the towel over her shoulders. She grimaces in sympathy for the hour. "Aye, well. I'll see if some of the lads can sneak some jokes or something in there to make it a bit bearable for you," she offers with a grin that's just a little crooked. "I'm still waiting on the guard captain to rear his head, so I reckon I'll be here a while yet." Not that she's complaining; it's just a little more time in the quiet and cool to deliver righteous fury to those bags. "If you need anything, holler."

Evka nods. "I'll keep that in mind." She even returns a smile. After toweling off she can't really delay any longer and she gathers her things. "THanks for the chat Weyrwoman. Have a good day aye?" Evka gives a half salute and breezes out of the room, doing some breathing excersizes to help herself stay calm during the tedium of hidework.

"Aye, clear skies, Weyrsecond," Ulrika returns the salute with her customary, formal one, and waits until Evka's ventured out of the room before she returns to the heavy bag. She has work to do, aye, but first? She has to get her head clear and there's only one way to do that right now. Then will come the meetings, the hidework, and everything else that her knot carries with it. Later.

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