sunnydalealum | (no subject)

It's final exams week at the Slayers' Academy. Which means that about five young women were called in by Sarge at the beginning of the week, and told something to the effect of Right, miss. Sometime this week you're going to get tapped by surprise and put through twenty-four hours of whatever we can throw at you. Can't say what day, can't say when, but you've got to outlast the clock and acquit yourself well, 'cos surviving unharmed by hiding under the bed's for pussies.

The workout rooms off the upper-level armory are usually deserted this late at night. But there's a light on in one of them, and a familiar sound coming from inside: the thrup-thud of feet moving rapidly from one stance to the next, the flat slap of wood or flesh against padding.
lord, give me grace and dancing feet / and the power to impress
Jordie's there, alone in the room, beating hell out of a training dummy with one of the practice fake-Scythes.
lord, give me grace and dancing feet / let me outshine the moon
Which is a circumstance that would make a lot more sense if she hadn't finished her exam about four hours ago.

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Jordie starts to giggle.

"Can I teach her to say whatevs and hella cool?"

"Yes to whatevs, but leave hella until she's at least ten." Spoon says firmly, "Penny doesn't really get to cuss...she's effectively mute without her translator. She can manage yautja, but hasn't vocal cords."

"No cursing until she's at least ten, got it."

A beat, and she starts to giggle again.

(Even with Slayers, sleep deprivation will eventually cut in.)

"That's me girl." Spoon says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "Come away now, luv. When was the last time you slept? You sound like me on the tail end of a bender.

"I will deny until I die that I giggle. Ever."

"I slept!" she protests, but she's moving with him toward the door, if slowly. "After the exam was over. Um ... three hours worth."

"Even Slayers need more than that." Spoon says, keeping her shoulders firmly under his arm so she can't easily slip away, "Point me toward the barracks...wait, hood."

He tugs it up with his other hand. Anonymous black hood for the win.

"I couldn't stay asleep." It's more a complaint than a defense.

"The dorms are around the other side of the main building."

"I can sit with you until the next trial starts, if you want." Spoon says. He'd do the same for his daughters. (Okay, he'd blow off the trial entirely for his daughters, but the thought is there.)

"...No, I'm okay, really."

She comes to a halt just inside the door of the workout room.

"Anyway, they won't let you into the dorms."

"You'd be surprised what I've done that I'm not allowed." Spoon informs her cheerfully from the depths of the hood.

Cheerfully, but in a harsh rumble that he sweet-talked his translator into providing so he wouldn't sound like Spoon. "And, luv, okay would mean that you weren't working yourself exhausted just after passing with flying bloody colours."

"I wasn't working myself exhausted," and this time her voice is defensive. "I just -- Spoon, passing the exam doesn't mean I'm done. It means I'm just getting started. It means the real work's coming."

She's looking up into the hood. Her eyes are searching for his, and there's no lie in them.

Spoon sighs and says, "Yeah, but you need to rest. If you don't, you'll get tired and get killed. I don't want to go to your funeral, Jordie. Don't make me do it. Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

Jordie bites her lip and drops her gaze at the word funeral, but she's nodding.

And looks up again when she says "I will. I promise."

Spoon smooths her hair back and nods slowly, "Good. Lost too many people, luv. Can't lose another one."

Her jaw sets again.

A harsh whisper: "Yeah."

There is a moment of silence before Spoon says, "Spiritually either."

Now she's avoiding his eyes.

"I'll be okay."

"You'd better." Spoon says, "Take whatever care you need of yourself, because there is only one Jordie in all the worlds."

Slow and hesitant, she looks up at him.

"Spoon? Could you ...?"

"Could I what, lass?" he asks quietly from the depths of his hood.

There's color rising in her face again.

"Could you take the hood down? Just, just for a minute?"

Spoon doesn't have to look to know that nobody who might have to fight him is around, so he nods in confusion and does so.

"I ... I'm gonna head back to the dorms in a minute. And, and I really shouldn't smuggle you in, 'cause Sarge could show up there at any time, there's still a couple of us have to run the exam."

She's got the box held under one arm; her fingers are twisting together in front of her.

"And I don't know when they're gonna send me off, so I might not see you again before I go."