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This was the third hobby this week. Three. The first was sculpting, which could have been fine except it got everywhere. On his cloths, his hair- he had to spend at least an hour just to get it all off. He could barely hide the distaste on his face as he left that one. The second went a little better, but..
Well, he wasn’t used to lacking in something. Painting seemed like a great skill to have- and he wasn’t even being sarcastic with that part! But the idea of not being even moderately good at something did something to his heart that he despised. Something that burned, made him want to scream. Shelby told him that it was something called shame. Whatever. Also, not even that, but a strange guy kept staring at him the whole time. Like, yeah, he’s hot, but damn, the whole time? That’s creepy. Did he like, wear something wrong? He sighed. He didn’t care if a human judged him- he was a vampire for god sake..
The last he was going to try was fencing. Which, he also found ridiculous. Yes, he was wonderful at fighting, don’t get him wrong, but with a sword? Really? He had claws and fangs sharper than any human metal there could be, and they expected him to fight with a bendy metal stick? To what, itch his enemies?
For Shelby, he promised himself. Just this once, and if even this doesn’t work, he’ll give up and.. he didn’t have an answer. Ugh. This better be worth his time.
The building was so plain and white. Nothing out of the ordinary, which isn’t saying a lot, since humans seemed to have changed for the boring route the six hundred years he was asleep. Anything too bold, too different was eradicated. Even he wasn’t as harsh and judgmental when he ruled over Oakhurst. A receptionist greeted- well, more.. acknowledged his presence. Manners these days.
“Hello, welcome to Emovere Fencing. How can I help you today?” The girl didn’t even look up.
He would have been amazed at the amount of emotion in her voice if he wasn’t so irritated already.
“I signed up for a sabre” was that how one says that? He sure hoped it was. “Fencing meetup today,”
“Name?”
“Scott.” He hesitated for a moment- before adding: “Goldsmith. Scott Goldsmith.”
“Your piste is the last one in the back.”
He attempted to say thank you and tried to get- the last piste.. according to the videos he watched with Shelby last night- that should be the line where one fences on. Wait, no, he had to probably get- the chain mail armor whatnot on. Fencing without that would make him look stupid.
It took way longer than it should’ve to get it on. What happened in that changing room shall stay in that changing room. In his defense, he didn’t know it had a single sliver earing on the helmet. Almost like someone was sabotaging his attempts of blending in on purpose, the man staring at him yesterday and now this.. he was beginning to think maybe leaving his safe, comfortable apartment was a bad idea.
His first opponent- eh, the term he should use was probably like, friend, or something, because this was a meetup, but he couldn’t possibly care less- was a young woman- maybe in her twenties? With loose ginger braids that seemed to fail in its purpose of keeping her hair out her face.
“Hi! I’m Gem! You are?” She smiled as she shook his hand, her helmet under her other arm.
“Scott. Nice to meet you.” Gem.. he could swear he heard that name before.
He shoved the heavy helmet onto his head after going to his spot, again, if the videos he watched were right and his memory of learning sparring back in the days served him correctly, which it seemed to have. He followed her actions: extend the arm holding the sword, point towards knee, hilt to lips, lower sword.
“Pret? Allaz!” The guy with the score counter said. Somewhere in his brain, it clicked into translation. He was ready alright.
Spoiler alert: he was not very ready. This might have because the girl immediately jumped up in the air before even he could react. She was fast- focusing in footwork and lounges, jumps, hopping rather than where she struck, which was why he managed to escape. Move in a line, move in a line- he reminded himself. Those old lessons with Mr. Boring Old Man actually was helping. What a surprise.
She scored the first point. And another. Then another. Until she was a healthy five points ahead of him. He wasn’t expecting her to be this good. He had to actually concentrate now- what good would he be if he lost to a human?
With some well-needed focus, he could hear her hitch in a breath before attacking, how she tensed before she lunged. One of many pros of being a vampire: better senses.
She was still faster than he could understand for a human, though. He’d need to improvise if he wanted to win- and he did. He focused on dodging the best he can- tire her out a little bit more- and there.
She was a little slower than she was before, allowing him to block the low strike he barely could even move out of the way of before. Using his newfound advantage, he pushed forward, closing the space between them before striking.
The next moves came to him easier than it was before: move, parry, get closer if possible, strike, dodge, try to counter attack. It- well, it felt great. He spent the last year restricting himself, restraining every movement to be better, whatever better was, and it was grating down on him. This? This felt freeing. All his instincts pointed the way to victory, and for once- he didn’t feel the need to control it. It felt wonderful.
He score the last few points, with her still somehow sneaking a couple more onto him. He lowered his mask, giving her a fist bump. Is that what the kids did nowadays? It better be.
“That was so fun- pleasure fencing with you, Scott.” She grinned. Like- she felt like Shelby, almost, with her friendliness and radiating energy. Maybe not quite though. She had something he couldn’t quite tell to her. Strange.
He schooled his face to be polite. “It was great. See you.. around?” That was horrible attempt at talking. What was that? Hanging around with only Shelby and Drift must have changed him somehow 'cause that a pathetic attempt at saying goodbye. Gem, being the kind person Scott assumed her to be, gave him one last smile before she grabbed her water bottle and joined her group of friends.
He won the next few way too easily. No one could give him the challenge Gem did. Ugh- did all human hobbies have to be so dependent on the company someone keeps? All he wants is some fun, surely that can’t be that hard..
It took him a few rounds to remember that he was supposed to be acting like a human, such as taking way too many breaks. It was stupid, though- surely they can live without taking a water break every second- and look at that he forgot to fill up his own. This is what living in the modern days gets him. So much annoyances.
Scott made his way to one of the many water fountains located around the gym. Another was next to him, someone who felt oddly familiar. Seemed like that was the kind of people he was gonna meet today. People who gave him deja-vu.
The man had one bleached part of his hair, a style he would say almost matched Apo. Apo- there’s a name he hasn’t thought of in a while, and thank god for that, she was a menace while he knew her. Hm. Maybe he deserved some of it. Was that understanding? Or guilt? He couldn’t tell.
After filling up his bottle with tap water, which was more than a little disgusting to drink, even if Scott wasn’t a vampire, cause- c’mon, that probably had so many germs in it!- he returned to where his group was supposed to be: the last row. Thank god it was easy to remember.
Scott zoned out, vaguely making notes of each players’ fighting styles- their tells and whatnots. He could have just stayed that way too- if not for the fact his phone chimed with a soft ring, with a message from Shelby. ‘Come home by ten i invited drift over :)’ oh. It was ten past nine- he could probably sneak another match before he left.
When he volunteered to go next, the other who partnered up with him was someone he’s hadn't before. At least not on the mat fencing- a completely blank canvas. At least the round would be slightly different. He was lean- a few inches shorter than him- but had that fire in his eyes, not unlike Gem’s earlier on. Someone who was already sizing him up- like he was studying an opponent. Hopefully he won’t be late for supper.
If the former was like a deer, good at jumps and lunges and movement, this guy was a wolf. His movements were preciser than Scott expected- quickly earning a point from him. That seemed to be the trend today.
He took in a quick breath, focusing once more. His opponent moved with confidence and precision- with almost no tell at all- no tense muscles or breath taken before any strikes. He spent half the time just trying to dodge the other’s attack.
He gave up on trying to be in the defensive, and counter attacked as soon as he was allowed to, aiming for arms- places one usually won’t expect. He tried the same way he did before- block, move closer and strike- but after allowing him two points, the other completely changed styles- much more offensive, using his wrist to his advantage- something Scott was definitely not ready for.
They traded attacks, testing each other and their boundaries, seeing how close they could lunge, how fast the other could recover, until it became a flurry of exchanges, glints of metal and soft clangs as their swords crashed against each other, blocked a strike them immediately tried to sneak in another.
For the first time in a while, he felt. Felt something positive, that is. A warm feeling that lit up his heart and made his limbs feel more agile, alive. It felt like he was drinking human blood again- a feeling which he relished much to his guilt. He, then, felt a stab of familiar annoyance at the fact that it was something to even be guilty about. Scott couldn’t survive without feeling a little rush- and it wasn’t even like he was hurting anyone! Conscience, be silent!
There was a point in where he was ahead- and yes, it felt great, thank you for asking- but, to his surprise, the stranger won at the end, and he didn’t even look exhausted! Even with the extra stamina vampirism gave him, Scott sure was.
“That was great. Nice fencing with you. Oh- I almost forgot- what’s your name?” Curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction sure brought it back, and he gathered he could at least get a name. It’s been a whole hour, and no one even came close beating him- okay, save a good few people, but his point still stands- but no one actually beat him- except of this stranger who seemed to have popped out from thin air.
“Good to have met you too.” Is that it? No name? Wow, that’s rude.
He could almost see the gears in the stranger’s head turn behind his eyes- weighing consequences, perhaps, but of what? He mused over this for a moment before the stranger spoke again.
“Here- my number. Call me if you ever want to meet again.” Oh so that’s a little fast- numbers? Already? That may have broken a record, or something. Not only that, but the stranger’s voice lacked any shyness or humor someone offering a number after five minutes of knowing each other would have. It was.. unusual- but for some reason, he felt inclined to take it. Possibly simple curiosity- or maybe a want for more relationships other than Shelby and Drift. Whichever it was, he accepted the offer with a smile.
“Sounds good to me. See you around, Mr. I still don’t know your name?” Scott answered- and to his surprise, the other smiled. Barely- but hey, least that meant he was probably human.
“You’ll figure it out. See you around, Goldsmith.” How was he supposed to figure someone’s name out? The letter read a number and a signature: A.V. Which was again, insane, because who knows how many people has that initial in New York City?
It was only after he was unlocking the door to his apartment, an apology and excuse at the tip of his tongue for being late to dinner- only by a few minutes, he’d say- that he realized he never told the stranger his name.