56/Practice Makes Perfect

Practice Makes Perfect
Date of Scene:	21 February 2020
Location:	A dojo in Little Odessa
Synopsis:	Alexander and Dinah spar at a dojo. Dinah agrees to take a student.
Cast of Characters:	Alexander Aaron, Dinah Lance

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Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The forms always come natural to him. The muscle memory so settled in the way his mind is wired, the ease and smoothness of the motion. But it's not just that. It's the taut control, the way he must hold his body in check and tense the firm cords of muscle in his arms and legs. Just that steady clean progression, brings a sense of peace to his mind as he moves. Bare feet light upon the tatami mat. His slow footsteps utterly silent as he shifts weight from one stance, to the other.
    It brings him a peaceful state of mind.
    Yet it is the sparring that he does not care for.
    At least here, amongst the students who train in the classically decorated martial arts school. Master Yamamoto had taught here for thirty seven years, and had long since surpassed the prejudice the neighborhood had for him. All it took was for a visit from the Russian mafia and for his handling of it. A way that is still the stuff of myth in this small riverside neighborhood With how one day they were going to tear the place down. The next... they were students.
    And so it was here that Alexander Aaron trained, his father likely having him obligated to focus there. And as all students he had to spar. But with his talents...
    It was never easy.
    And so when he was called forth to the mats. One could read it in his stance, and his expression, if one were talented enough. It was not disrespectful. No, far from it. More it was clear he was not /trying/. The way they twisted him around at times and threw him to the mat. The almost effortless way he moved with the subtle direction. A picture perfect uke. But he did not contest. And whenever Yamamoto brought it up...
    "I'm sorry, sensei. I will try to do better."
    But it was clear. This boy of Mr. Aaron's, he did not have the killing intent. Nor the instinct. Such a shame.

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Between running the flower shop by day and running in fishnets by night, Dinah Lance doesn't have a lot of time to work out with others. Yes, she works out every day, performing her series of personal regimens. But visiting an actual dojo is not something she can often do.
    Visiting a dojo run by a teacher of Master Yamamoto's skill and reputation is, quite simply, a rare treat.
    Dinah tries to be humble in the martial arts world, in spite of her own skill. However there are times when the mention of Master Otomo's name is more than enough to open doors to an otherwise closed dojo. And this is one of those times.
    The petite blonde enters the dojo, stopping just inside to remove the black biker boots at the door out of respect. Wearing jeans, a snug-fitting t-shirt, and a leather jacket, she carries a gym bag slung over one shoulder. Greeted by one of the older students, she bows and soft words are exchanged. Gestures are made, pointing her to the locker room. Another bow, then the woman steps over to change. Along the way, her gaze shifts to the various students in the room. Examining. Assessing. Make no mistake about it, this small woman most CERTAINLY has the heart of a raptor.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    That casual glance, that passive assay. She may be modest about her abilities, but she has that utter talent to just read the people as she walks by. If she were Shiva she likely would be uncharitable. Dross and nothing. Nothing with her interest at first glance. There are people there who clearly are there mainly for physical fitness. Some that might have some talent in a local field. One tall man that if he stopped living his life entirely right now might be able to make a name in the professional competition circuit.
    And then there is Alexander.
    He is taller than her, well-built though that loose gi hides his form well, but not to her trained eye.
    One of the older students takes the role as judge and stands between Alexander and a larger black-belted student. A glance is spared back and forth, then he says sharply while cutting the air with a slicing hand downward. "Hajime!"
    And the match begins.
    It's a rapid fire back and forth. Hand to hand exchange, a sharp front kick from the larger man towards Alexander. Clean blocks cracking back and forth with the fabric snapping with motion. Thirty seconds, no more, no less. Then the man throws Alexander over his leg and holds him to the mats...
    And all done. The two are up and back. And she knows all she needs to know.
    She likely had seen the times he could have struck and held back. The precise footwork that he used to set himself up over and over and over in positions where one strike could have ended the entire match. But he did not strike. It was all in the body language. The tensing was there signalling intent. Then gone.
    And then he's back down seated on the edge of the mats as others participated.

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah lingers in the locker room doorway long enough to watch the match. It's long enough. A small nod, then the short blonde disappears into the locker room. She emerges a few minutes later wearing a gi of her own, belted in black. Blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail to keep it out of the way, hands and feet bare.
    While Dinah was changing, the older student returned to speak to the sensei. Yes, apparently she was expected. She approaches the circle of students around the room, turning to face the Master with a formal bow. He speaks. "My children, Miss Lance has asked for the honor of training with us this evening. You will extend to her the courtesy of an honored guest." And with that, he offers her an open-handed gesture and yields the floor.
    There is no hesitation as she chooses... not the large, black-belted student. But Alexander. He is still substantially taller than she is, and as she steps onto the mat she points to him. "You."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    When she had passed there had been a brief moment when he caught her eye. Just an instant where those blue-green hazel irises find the ocean blues of her own and his gaze follows. And in that moment she'd get the feeling for him, that sworling sense of chi and awareness. And for a moment... he was awake when their power each became more fully aware of the other. To some it would be called simply body language, micro-tells, or even primal instinct.
    But when she had taken up a place upon the mats in her gi and that well-worn black belt. He was paying full attention.
    "Yes, sensei." The honorific granted in full knowledge of what she is. But there is still that subtle hesitation.
    But before she even has a chance to ask of him what she will he seems to key into her wishes and instantly rises. There is the short sharp thap-thap-thap of bare feet upon the tatami mat then he is standing before her. He bows respectfully.

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah returns the bow, keeping eye contact. A small smile touches her lips, then. "Hajime!" she declares. The woman settles into a ready stance that reflects variations on many styles. Apparently there will be no need for a judge.
    There is no hesitation, either. The moment the match starts with that single word, the woman attacks. Ready or not. Either ironically or perhaps even deliberately, she opens with the same combination as the taller student who defeated Alexander just minutes earlier.
    Exactly. The. Same. Strike for strike, kick for kick. She's baiting him. Drawing him out. Testing his responses.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    From without, the entire school watches this, the other students gazing on with curiousity. Master Yamamoto standing there attentive and to the side, intrigued as well. To them it is a simple exercise, and such a perfectly executed one. None of them perhaps recognize what she is doing, not even the student she's mimicking. Yet Alexander. He knows.
    And she can read it in those eyes of his.
    It's suddenly a war. Not with her, but internally as she can sense the blurring roil of thoughts that flicker through him, reflected ever so subtly on his shift in stance, the tension in his face. She takes that stance, states the declaration for there to be a 'Beginning' and he uncurls into the attack.
    She will find him there, meeting her, movement for movement. Strike, snap, block. He is firm, making the needed touch of his forearm to hers just enough to slip that attack to the side. She moves in and his shin comes up perfectly to catch the knife's edge of her bare foot upon his leg. His bicep brushes hers as he makes a circular block and steps in.
    For a second each is fully aware of the other. The breath shared, the tensed forms. The subtle scents. Then they are past...
    And at precisely the thirty second mark she reaches the point where she moves to perform the take down that other student used to gain the win. She reaches in, her hip ready for the throw...
    And he rises to the occasion. Slipping beneath and around. Behind. There is a brush of gi against gi, the fabric rasping as he slips under her arm and turns it to try and lock it into place. A perfect counter.
    But one he does not finish with. As if abruptly realizing he should not embarrass Sensei's guest. He retreats as if he had lost grip, retaking stance.

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah moves with him in the dance, strike for strike, block for block. She can see the change in him, as can Master Yamamoto as well, most certainly. He is the taller and the stronger, but the blonde woman is certainly not hampered by the size difference.
    Breathing together, it's as if they are working towards that one, crucial moment. She slips in for the throw... he adjusts to counter... locks her arm... and then he doesn't finish.
    No sooner does he step back with the feigned slipped grip than she speaks a single word, loudly and clearly. "No!"
    Back into her own stance, she nods once to him. "Again!" Rewinding the routine a few moments, the dance resumes. Strike, block, counter, kick-kick.
    Only this time, as they approach the timing of that fateful throw the blonde takes things off the rails. Her style shifts, changing completely. She moves in close and STAYS in close, bodies in contact nearly all the time now with her back against his chest. Fabric brushes against fabric, she is all elbows and feet and open-hand blows. A feigned wrist-grab, almost daring him to try and grab her from behind.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Her voice is like a whipcrack across the dojo, it snaps him to focus, to full attention as his gaze locks with hers. She tells him again, and so they retake their places. He strikes his stance, hips turned, one hand forward and raised, the other low and open at his side, front foot slightly off of that rough tatami. Then she signals their return. And they move together perfectly. Through the same strikes, through the same steps, only the sound of their breathing and the slight thap-thap of their bare feet on the mats.
    Then they reach that fateful moment. And she changes styles. Close in now, and the dance is no longer choreographed between them. It is less the Okinawan Karate that Master Yamamoto was teaching, and as he watches he recognizes this, one eyebrow lifting.
    But what causes the old master to be all the more surprised is that when Dinah changes style, Alexander changes right with her. Almost as if it were instinct. She moves in close, jiu-jitsu? Systema? She might see glimpses of that as they each grasp and push, jockeying for position. She'll feel his leg between hers as he tries to grasp her lapels and turn her. For an instant they stand close, and faint beadlets of sweat cause a subtle shine upon his brow and that powerfully built bare chest hidden beneath that gi jacket. She slashes out with an elbow and it forces him to the side to evade, giving her back to him.
    And this time he takes the bait. A strong arm slithering over her shoulder, forearm along the strength of her neck, grasping, seeking to pull her to him and for his hands to link together as he tries to gain that choke and lock it down. It's an intense moment, almost timeless as she can feel the blazing warmth of him behind her. Take in that masculine scent of exertion as there's the soft whisper of his rough breath against the supple curve of her neck. And then there is his voice in her ear as he tries to focus his chi with a low, "Tsssssaah."

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah almost smiles as he slips the choke hold onto her. He is taller and easily out-weighs her; the advantage should be his. This close, even with her back to him she -feels- his presence. His movements. This is extremely close combat, where Dinah truly excels. Having worked through the initial forms once more, Dinah is also beginning to sweat beneath the fabric of the gi. Breathing faster, the blonde hair is damp where it brushes his cheek.
    The natural response for most people in her position would be to struggle, to fight to clear their airway. Dinah's response is similar, but not her actual reaction. Her thumb finds a pressure-point just inside and above his elbow, numbing his strong arm down to the fingers. A slight turn of her head swishes blonde hair across his face, putting her chin into her shoulder against future choke attempts and letting her slip from his grasp. Rather than twisting away to evade, however, she pushes back against him with her butt while reaching down.
    His foot is between her own, and with her lower stance it's an easy thing for her to reach behind his ankle and draw it up between her legs. Suddenly. Forcefully.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    She'll feel that jolt of tension in his arm as she presses hard with her thumb. It takes her but a moment to find it, seeking across the taut forearms and then digging in to feel that rough /give/ to know she's found the right spot and pressed hard. His eyes narrow as he tries to maintain, tries to pull her back and off her balance, yet that serves to put his leg forward exactly where she wants it.
    Her head turns and the brush of her hair is enough of that brief distraction for her to complete the movement, her rear pressing back into him and breaking his balance partially. Then she grabs the back of his ankle and /pulls/ and whatever is left of his balance is stolen.
    But not his control as he hits the mats, though he falls almost picture perfectly, hands out to dissipate the impact upon the tatamis with loud slaps of bare hands. Yet that does nothing to stop her and her control of his leg as he takes a moment to recover, his other foot flattening on the mats to try and gain leverage.

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah has control of his leg and she's not about to give it up easily. She hears him land loudly on the mat and feels the jolt along his leg, but she's not about to give him even a moment to recover. Dinah weighs about a buck-thirty, fully clothed and soaking wet. She settles back onto his abs... hard... with her full weight. Hauling upward on his captured leg, she shifts her own leg to keep his other one pinned to the mat.
    He's not going anywhere, and she has an arm wrapped around his trapped leg. If they -had- a referee, this would be a good time to call the match. She leans back a bit, perhaps testing his flexibility, before she speaks in a low voice. "You have fought honorably. Do you yield?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    She has control, and there is a tension in it. And the people watching, the students, are confused and not sure what they are seeing. The sensei of this dojo, however, is more aware and he looks troubled. Though he does not interfere. For he may realize this is a learning instance, a learning instance for a pupil who should perhaps not be his pupil. His features darken.
    Yet there upon the mats, for Alexander at least, the world has shrunk entirely to only her. She holds onto his leg, draws it with her as she sits upon his rock hard abdomen, tensed so with that subtle jolt of pain she inflicts with the twist and pull of his leg so close to her chest. And that limb under her control, the steady pulse pounding, the well-developed calf and thigh clench and she will feel some resistance, yet he is very flexible, almost like a dancer under her control.
    She makes her query and their eyes meet. He will nod and then says quietly, "I do." As his hand taps upon the mats three times, as if to observe the proper forms.

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah holds the leg until the bigger man yields. Blue eyes meet his own and her lips pull into a small smile. Rising quickly, she turns and waits for Alexander to rise. Formality must be adhered to, of course. Only after bows are exchanged, with eye contact, does she relax her form and turn towards the dojo's sensei.
    "Please forgive my departure from form, Master Yamamoto. I saw the opportunity to teach one of your students during the bout. I should have discussed this with you before presuming to teach in your dojo." And with that, the blonde bows more deeply to Master Yamamoto.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The old master frowns, but when Otomo-Sensei's student says this must be done, he understands that it must be so. He gives her a nod followed by a bow as well, only slightly less deep as is proper for the master of the dojo. He straightens and then turns his gaze upon Alexander as the youth rises. That dark gaze falls upon him and he nods slowly. Yet there is still displeasure in the way he holds himself.
    "Class is over today. Senshi," He looks to Dinah, declaring her a warrior as is her due. "My dojo is yours for the next three days. Use it as you will." That said he moves off toward the office even as the students file out. Yet their departure is not without confusion. Something just happened, assuredly. Just they're not sure what.
    But Alexander remains there on the edge of the mats. At times he looks after Sensei Yamamoto, at other times he finds his eyes drawn to her. Time passes as people begin to depart, but then he tells her, simply... "Thank you."

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah thanks Master Yamamoto and bows once more. Watching the sensei and the other students file out, her gaze shifts towards Alexander. Dinah makes a small adjustment to her gi only then. When Alexander speaks, she turns to give him her full attention.
    "You hold back, first with your fellow students and then with me." she declares. It's not a question, either. "I can feel the strength in you. The chi. And also the fear. You are afraid of yourself, I think." The woman pauses to look up at him, then. "Or do I miss the mark?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The cubbies are cleared, the students are pulling their shoes on and gathering their articles. It's only once the last one has departed, though not without sparing a second parting glance back at them, that Alexander meets her gaze fully.
    She can see his features shift, expression tensing. His head turns away slightly as those hazel irises, pale blue that blurs to a vibrant green, distance... then return to her. He says levelly to her, tone firm as he murmurs. "I had fallen asleep. Allowed myself to feel I had seen everything there was to learn. You have given me cause to wake."
    That is an answer, and with the two of them still there, still in the sanctity of the dojo there is still that faint roil of chi between them. The unspoken primal intensity between two warriors. Yet his regard for her is a multi-tiered thing. She can likely sense the esteem he holds her in from simply their testing of each other. She can most likely feel the subtle growl of that desire for him to face her again. But there is another aspect, an attraction that he may well be trying to hide by focusing on the contest, the training, the learning.

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah's nostrils flare, her stance relaxed and easy and centered. Yet also like a coiled spring. Yes, the intensity flows between them, from one warrior to another. For a moment she remains silent as he speaks, then her blonde locks bob when she nods once more. "Yes. That's a good description for it, I think." she replies.
    "Complacency has no place within the heart of a warrior. Yes or no. Do or don't. Fight or surrender. You're trying to do this halfway. I've seen it before." She's *lived* it before. "It would be better to hang up your gi than to continue like this. The real question is, what do you want to do?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The answer is instant, and she can /feel/ it in what would be the dragon's roar as their chi entwines as his eyes flare. "I will fight." He tells her, firmly, intensely. As if there was no other alternative, as if he had an option save to be who he was, the Son of War. Yet she does not have that insight into him. She only has this moment, this feeling, this low level growl between them that seems to demand they face each other again, to strain and strive against each other again until one is the clear victor.
    Perhaps she has awoken something indeed. And to the naked eye no one could tell what had changed between them. But something had. The rise in tension. The way he turned his leg slightly to the side, shifted his balance off of his back foot. It was almost as if a gauntlet had been thrown down before her. It carried the intensity, the desire to struggle and find the warriors within them.
    He takes a deep breath. Holds it, and then his lips give a hint of a smile as his own blond hair is pushed back from his eyes and he murmurs. "And what will you do, Senshi?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
    Dinah returns that smile, noting in her peripheral senses the shift of his balance. His stance. His demeanor. Yes, she can tell that something has changed. The uncertainty is gone, and she looks pleased.
    She knows what he wants, of course. The woman can feel the need for him to fight again. The need for victory. But that is not part of the process, at least not right now.
    "Will you continue to study with Master Yamamoto, then? There is still much he could teach you, if you were to let him."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    His brow beetles as he looks to the side and then he shakes his head slowly, "I will not." He lifts a hand to the back of his neck and for an instant there is that youth again, thoughtful and distant. He looks back with those eyes that are so like the ocean, still shaking his head a little as he adds. "I have... I had learned all I could from him. Some time ago." Which may be true in one way, perhaps not another. Perhaps the insult is too great. Perhaps he will not be able to remain a student. But the future swirls before him, chaotic as so much is at that stage of life.
    His gaze returns to her and his smile returns slightly, just to the corner of his mouth, a little sad or resigned in some way. But then resolved.
    Then his eyebrow lifts as he murmurs, "Was there a suggestion you would make?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
    The response doesn't surprise Dinah, and her expression shows it. Just the whisper of a smile at his admission, then she nods a little. Once. "Then you will do the honorable thing by him." Again, this is less of a suggestion than an instruction. "In private, not with the other students present."
    The woman looks him over, then, as if assessing him for the first time. "If you wish to fight, then you will need a teacher. I have spent much of my time studying and learning, and I have never taken an actual student of my own." Dinah pauses once more, almost as if reconsidering what she will say next.
    "I am willing to discuss this further. Come and see me once you have talked with Master Yamamoto. I work out at Grant's Gym in Gotham City."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There is wariness there in the youth's eyes. Perhaps a tinge of surprise but it is not fearful. For she has seen such in the gaze of others and this one before her. He is without fear. But he nods slowly, inhaling and holding that breath for a moment before he murmurs. "I will look for you then. And I will do right by the master I have so ill-used." He accepts the blame, and will not shirk it. Mature for someone his age, but then he has lived much life in his years.
    But then his lip twists a little and he asks, "But..." Some hint of the formality falls from his tone as his voice takes on a vibrance then he murmurs. "What should I call you? Other than sensei. For whom should I ask?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
    For a moment there is a look of amusement in Dinah's blue eyes. Who indeed? Black Canary? Siu jerk jai? "Ask for Dinah Lance." she replies simply. "The owner is Ted Grant. He'll be a bit protective, but he's sort of family." Ted Grant, former heavyweight champion. "I'll let him know to expect you."