One Two Punch (open)

[Gwyn Locksley]

Gwyn Locksley did not brood. In general she was a fairly happy person, though one easily annoyed by the stupidity of others, but she wasn't one to be so deeply affected by anything that she would do what people labeled 'brooding'. Or such had been the case before her last trip home. Apparently finding out she had a long lost brother who could rival her in all the skills she prided herself on being the best at really put a damper on her mood.

Still, she did not brood, not in the most traditional sense of flopping around listlessly and moaning about how unfair life was. That was more Costin's style. No, Gwyn's level of brooding included, though was not limited to, pummeling the hell out of a punching bag in the school gym, which was what she was doing now.

And if maybe, just maybe, she was picturing her new brother's face while doing so nobody would ever know.

[Mordred Le Fey]

It had been a while since Mordred had done any form of practice, with sword, bow or even fists (Unless you counted a few drunken brawls, and he never did), and so, with nothing better to do, Mordred decided to head to the gym for some sword practice. He only had three classes today, and he had already decided they were a waste of time, and practice would be time much better spent.

He reached the gym and pulled a longsword from the practice rack, heading into the gym to find a dummy to hack to pieces for half an hour. He hadn't expected anyone to be in there, and so he quietly pushed the door open and snuck inside when he heard the gentle thuds of someone punishing a punching bag. As he slipped inside, he noted who was attacking the bag and raised an eyebrow.

Not bad...

He quietly found a spot nearby, and leaned back against the wall behind her, resting the sword on the floor crossing his ankles. He watched her for a few more minutes, before smirking as he spoke up; "So who pissed you off then?"

[Gwyn Locksley]

Gwyn had no idea she was no longer alone, no clue that she was being watched, until a familiar voice startled her. Grabbing the punching bag to stop its movements, she turned around to find Mordred smirking at her, looking the perfect picture of relaxed and casual. How long had he been standing there? It would never do to let her guard down like this.

"You haven't heard yet?" she asked, wiping one arm over her forehead. She had been home for a month and had assumed her mother had wasted no time in sending a letter to Guinevere to tell her and everyone at Camelot about Richard. Of course that didn't guarantee the news getting back to Mordred here at Tintagel but it would make things a lot easier if it had. "And I'm not pissed off, I'm just... thinking."

She had almost said 'confused', but to admit such was to show weakness, and that wasn't something she did often around anyone, let alone the boy she had grown up practically idolizing.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred couldn't conceal the smirk that emerged at her response. "Sure, thinking." He raised an eyebrow at her, pushing himself away from the wall and leaning the sword against it before walking to the punching bag and standing behind it, holding it to steady it. "Well, you're less likely to injure yourself if you think with a spotter." He nodded at her as he braced himself against the bag. "And don't tense up like that when you hit it, you'll tire out much faster. Less of a problem when your opponent is stuffed and made of leather, more of a problem when you're thinking against someone's jaw." He grinned at her.

"Anyway, you know me.  I keep to myself, never one to gossip.  Head in the books while the world passes me by."  He winked at her conspiratorially.  "Of course, if you're talking about the return of the prodigal son and all the joy and happiness that has followed, I haven't heard a thing.  Not a clue what you're talking about, to be honest.  Oblivious, that's me."  He thumped the punching bag a couple of times.  "Come on, hit the thing like you mean it.  Show me what you're made of, Locksley."


"So anyway... how is life now the prodigal son has returned to the fold?" He asked. Tact had never been something he felt was worth his time. "Happy families?" He smirked at her from behind the bag.

[Gwyn Locksley]

Gwyn wanted to huff that she didn't need a spotter, she was doing just fine on her own, but she knew he was right. She was emotionally charged right now, and when people got like that they made mistakes. She had never had to worry about that before, had usually made fun of people that let their feelings get in the way of their judgment, yet here she was, doing the same.

Sighing, she gave a nod in return before striking the punching bag again. She instantly regretted it when Mordred started critiquing her, though. She stopped a moment to glare at him, “I'm fine. I can beat this thing all day,” she replied, but when she resumed her training she made special note to loosen up.

Really, if she were to accept fighting advice from anyone, Mordred was one of the few who could get away with it.

Unfortunately, he was part of the Camelot crew, who were close friends of her family. Of course he'd heard, and of course he wouldn't just let it go undiscussed. He gave her a brief moment of peace to think otherwise before jokingly admitting to it. She scoffed at the words, and set her jaw at his goading. She did as instructed and punched harder. Right, right, left. But he kept talking, asking her to talk. She didn't want to, didn't want to even think about her stupid new brother who had shown up out of the blue to take away everything that her and Eddie had worked for and deserved. “Oh, it's lovely,” she bit out, sarcasm positively dripping from her words. “So great he even followed us here.”

[Mordred Le Fey]

He watched her as she followed his instructions and began to land punches on the bag again, nodding as she loosened up and immediately improved her blows. "Course you can..." He smirked at her, bracing the bag so her blows had more power.

He couldn't help but laugh at the sarcasm in her voice, raising an eyebrow at the news that he'd even come to school. "He's here?" He asked in surpise. "Footwork, Locksley!" He called out - he'd spent a lot of time in the training yards at Camelot, and had started helping with the training of the younger knights and squires, and found himself slipping easily back into that role now.

"Didn't mummy and daddy want to keep him close, make up for all that lost time?" He asked. "I mean, sure, I understand them wanting to ship you off here," he teased her with a smile, "But haven't they got a tonne of catching up to do with big brother?"

[Gwyn Locksley]

Mordred sounded surprised when she revealed that Richard was here at Tintagel as well, and Gwyn took that as validation that it was a stupid idea. Unconsciously this time she did as told, her mind so focused on other things that she welcomed the instructions.

He spoke of her parents, speaking in a mocking tone at first, then teasing, and everything he said made sense. Everything he said was exactly what Gwyn had been thinking when she had claimed to need to come back to Tintagel. She had thought she could escape Richard here, leave him behind and have time to figure out where she stood, but no. “You would think so, right?” she replied, huffing out a breath between punches. “I guess they wanted him to have the same experiences as me and Eddie, or wanted us to bond or some such bollocks.” She landed a particular hard punch with that. Maybe her parents had realised what an ass he was and wanted to get rid of him too. Okay, so that thought brought a slightly evil looking smirk to her lips.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Her punches were getting better and stronger, and Mordred found himself having to work a little more to keep the bag stready. He nodded approval as he saw her follow his instructions, and, in full training mode, praised a particularly good hit with one of his rare ‘good job’s.

“Ah, that ever important sibling bonding time.” Mordred laughed. “Maybe they’re just scared he’s so brainwashed he’ll murder them in their sleep without you there to protect them.” He winked at her. It may have been veiled in teasing and a little flirting, but Mordred meant the compliment - he’d met few people, particularly girls, as skilled in combat and shooting as Gwyn was, and he had a lot of respect for her abilities. Aided by the fact that she could probably beat him in various disciplines, if he ever gave her the chance.

At a particularly hard punch, Mordred was knocked backwards by the bag and stumbled slightly, nodding at her with an impressed look on his face. “I think the bag might have had all it can take,” he laughed, letting go of it and grabbing some chalk and strips of linen from a nearby equipment stand and beginning to wind it around his hand. “Fancy seeing how good you are when your punching bag can hit back? Might come in useful with the new brother being around.” He grinned.

[Gwyn Locksley]

Gwyn barely heard the praise, she just kept punching, kept fighting, kept the adrenaline flowing. She appreciated Mordred's laugh, that he found this as ridiculous as her, though his joke not so much. “It's not so hard to believe,” Gwyn stated. “He was raised by dad's mortal enemy, so I would bet he was raised to hate Robin Hood. And now he's suddenly back, knows who they are, and of course they're going to accept him with open arms.”

Honestly, was it really that far fetched? Sounded more likely than Vaisey just letting him walk away and go home to his long lost parents. Maybe that was the plan all along, but her parents had thwarted it by sending him here, or maybe that was just the beginning! Maybe he had come here willingly to try to dispose of Eddie and herself instead!

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts when Mordred stumbled back, she wasn't too distracted that she didn't notice his impressed expression. Mordred, impressed by her. He indicated he was done and she frowned in disappointment, flexing her hands and giving them a shake. They ached dully, but she ignored it. Walking over to the wall, she uncapped her bottle and took a long drink of water before his question hit her. Slowly capping it again, she turned back and grinned at him. Oh, did she ever. “You sure you're up for this?” she said, shaking her hands out a few more times and making sure her wraps were still good.

[Mordred Le Fey]

She had a point. He couldn't help but wonder how his parents could accept him back so willingly after he'd been raised by their enemy. How did they know he hadn't been brainwashed to kill them all? But, he was here, not there and so the parents were safe.

Finishing his wraps and chalking his hands, he clapped them together to get rid of the excess and grinned at her. "Are you?" He asked, with an eyebrow raised.

He moved to the middle of the hall and got into a sparring stance, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and bringing his fists in front of his face. He grinned again at her. "So, what are you going to do about him then? You're not one to stand aside and let him walk over you, so what's the plan?"

[Gwyn Locksley]

She met that challenging brow with a confident grin. “Come now, Mordred, you know me. I was born ready.” Honestly, it wasn't far from the truth. Some days she thought she had been born fighting. She had certainly taken to it much sooner and easier than Eddie had, and the gap between them only widened as she grew older and stronger.

“Plan?” Gwyn questioned, facing off against Mordred and sizing him up. “I just need to step up my training and prove that I'm still better than him.” As if to make her point she stepped in, faking a right before going for a left jab.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred couldn’t help but grin at her statement. It wasn’t probably true, he thought to himself, she’d been almost as good a fighter as him since the day he met her. And he’d never admit it, but she was a better shot than he’d ever be.

“I do love some good sibling rivalry,” he grinned as he watched her movements carefully. She might be an incredible shot, but his forte was hand to hand combat, and his reflexes were second to none. He dodged her jab and brought his right arm up to block her, catching her fist in his hand.

“You’re going to have to work harder than that if you want to prove anything.” He taunted her, testing her - he knew that the worst thing in a hand to hand fight was to allow yourself to get riled up by your opponent, and Mordred believed in training the mind as much as the body.

[Gwyn Locksley]

“I am not surprised,” Gwyn replied, grinning back. Growing up in Camelot, there had to be a lot of sibling rivalries because, well, there were a lot of siblings. And half siblings. And not really related but sort of close enough siblings. Honestly, it was just a big old confusing mess, but there must have been some prime rivalries around, even if many of them were too proper to really let it show.

Mordred dodged her first strike, not surprisingly. There was a reason Gwyn looked up to him, because he was the best as far as she was concerned. Maybe there were more seasoned knights who were better, but to be so good at such a young age was what she strove for. She could have done without the condescending 'catching her fist' bit, though.

“He doesn't stand a chance,” she said confidently, shaking Mordred off. Bouncing from foot to foot, she went in low, trying to use their height difference to her advantage.

[Mordred Le Fey]

"That's the spirit!" Mordred grinned, hands back to a defensive position as Gwyn pulled her hand back and took at offensive stance. He watched her carefully, waiting for her next move, and jumped backwards as she went for a low attack.

"You're getting predictable," He grinned at her, before quickly going on the offensive, feigning left before jabbing right and aiming for a light punch in her ribs.

"Maybe that's the problem with the new brother, maybe you're being predictable with him too. Maybe you need to catch him off guard, show him who's better that way."

[Gwyn Locksley]

Hearing Mordred call her predictable, Gwyn faltered for the briefest moment, but it was all he needed. His quick switch to the offensive at that moment took her off guard and the strike to her ribs landed causing her to stumble back a step. Holding her hand to her ribs she clenched her teeth and glared up at him, but it was more herself she was angry with. Herself and Richard.

“Oh yeah? And how would you propose I do that?” she shot back, taking a defensive stance this time and nodding that she was ready again. Let him come at her again; she would not let him get to her this time.