[Day 3] Epee Round 2: Pine, T. vs. Johnwayne

By the miracle of her own skill, Elya had been able to recover and dominate her previous bout, despite having grabbed a lefty epee by mistake. She'd spent an adequate amount of time berating herself after the fact, but she'd won and was willing to accept that she was skilled enough to overcome her own rare bouts of stupidity. In fact, she'd even done considerably well during her decathlon events, second to none in the four hundred meter, and second to only Circe Lyon in the javelin hurl. The second day had given her an opportunity to atone for her miserable showing during her first few events, and with her poor performance all but washed away by her domination of the second day, the Johnwayne was eager for her next bout.

District Two, as a whole, had utterly destroyed the competition in epee — every single person in the second round was from the stony district she wore on her uniform. In the no-rules, no-holds-barred epee event, it made perfect sense. District One was finesse and polish and precision where District Two was brute force and 'creative' tactics. The former were more suited to foil and sabre, where there were rules and constraints; the latter, to epee and combat where anything went. And despite their strong showing in the last Games, District Four continued to be an afterthought in Elya's mind.

She was up against a boy from her district, in fact, as there weren't any other options. Pine like Ares — though, likely, he was as sick of being called out for it as she was for being Johnwayne like Dan. No, much as she'd loved her big brother, and glad as she was that he and his name were still on the minds of the nation, she was and always would Johnwayne like Elya and no one else.

She gave an stiff salute and slid her mask down over her iron gaze, taking her place across the strip and ready to bore holes in the plank of Pine she was presented with.


BLNgbbu81-4
[time]

He'd matched her, point for point. It was okay of course — the bout was young and the one-eyed girl didn't need to put that comfortable distance between both of their scores just yet. Such a gap would be comfortable, yes, but it would hardly be interesting.

She picked up the tempo, light on her feet, unleashing half a dozen viper-quick feints on the Pine boy, raining a hellfire of misdirection down on him. That was how she fought — with a precision that was not just exact but sneaky.

Her opponent fired off a quick quip, though if it was meant to be polite or demeaning, Elya hadn't the slightest idea. It didn't matter, really — she wouldn't be thrown off by the "Best of luck, Johnwayne, though I'm sure you won't need it."

"No," she agreed, beating his blade away to go in for a strike center-mass, "I won't." Her lip curled up in a satisfied smirk. Time and time again, her life had proven that Elya Johnwayne had lost where luck was involved, so she'd had to make due with only skill all this while.

Current score: 3
+
nq_g4hmv1-4

Boring or not, stranger or not, still her opponent — Pine — Tobias — was able to keep up. He even threw in a two-handed jab, which had earned a nod of respect and a note of frustration from Elya — the move wasn't, of course, within the weapon's rules, but the official hadn't seen or hadn't cared. Besides, she'd been a student of the School of Cowboy Dan, where everything that was possible was fair. As it was in life, there was no such thing as cheating.

That being said, Elya always lacked the good fortune for getting away with such things in regulated bouts, and as such wasn't going to press her luck. She didn't need to. Even within the confines of the rules, she had enough tricks up her sleeves to pull ahead. And her favorite one always came out of nowhere:

The flèche was named for a fired arrow, and Elya shot herself at her opponent that quick. Launching off the ball of her back foot, she drove at him, arm and sword extended as one, and, though they were in close quarters, she flew down the piste past him after making her touch to avoid getting nailed with a counterattack. As she made her way back to her line to start another point, she allowed herself a glance at the illuminated red lamp and a small accompanying smile. Surprise strikes had always been a family favorite.

Current score: 5
+
A||Exf_j1-4

She was too disciplined to be frustrated with how neck-and-neck the score was. And yet, she couldn't help but think that she ought to have finished him off already. It was growing clearer and clearer that Tobias Pine was not nearly as practiced at swordplay as the One-eye, and that realization brought a level of sense to the bout. Great fighters struggled harder against the untrained than they did against other skillful ones — that was why districts like five and nine and twelve were able to bring home victors at all. Elya understood why, of course; when you were trained against an opponent who knew what they were doing, you expected that of everyone you faced.

Or maybe this Pine was good — near her level, if not on it — and Elya Johnwayne was just too proud to admit it.


Current score: 6
+
|AJIbT3y1-4

"You move at a fast pace, Johnwayne."

There was a time when a remark like that would've drawn at least a smirk out of her — a smile, even, if they'd been her brother's words — but those days had past. Her face remained impassive, tempered steel beneath the metal mesh of her mask. Tobias Pine meant nothing to her beyond the colored light on her half of the scoreboard.

"Don't bother to keep up," she replied, cold and indifferent. The trouble was, he had been. The match had dragged; she needed to leave him in the dust. Her blade darted inward, viper-quick, in an effort to do just that.


Current score: 8
+
rQis8fGa1-4

"Trust me, Elya, I'm just about done trying."

It threw her, to hear her name. It made the whole thing feel personal, when before it had just been two masks and jackets, two blades, two famous last names. It made her skin crawl, that the playing field had changed so rapidly. Just about done trying. And who hadn't been there before? How easy it was to say so in a no-stakes bout. Done trying. One-armed, one-eyed, bloodstained and battered, the image of her brother admitting defeat crawled into her brain and under that covered wagon to die the hundredth death he'd died there that week.

Fuck. She was stone, she was steel, she was strong — it wasn't supposed to throw her. Nothing was supposed to throw her — she didn't have chinks in her armor because she never needed armor — because she was only armor, all armor down to the thick of her, with nothing underneath.

And yet, there she went. Tobias Pine had never passed her before, often tied but had never been winning. And yet, there it was. One point down, with the bout nearing its close. Elya did not let herself wonder how it had happened; she knew, and even if she didn't — well, wondering why you were losing was often how you got in that predicament in the first place.

With a deep breath, she steeled herself and gave a final push to retake the bout.

"So let it end."


Current score: 11
+
3pKUDXjz1-4