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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 25, 2010 20:08:02 GMT -5
Blaise hadn't any reason to speak, and Rhys didn't seem to have anything to say, which left them walking the rest of the way in silence. That was just as well, really, since Blaise got all he needed from the scent of Rhys' emotions.
When the at last reached the gym, Blaise made his way to the equipment, which seemed to consist mostly of wooden training weapons. Near the back, however, he finally managed to find the actual sports equipment. The majority of it was basketballs, soccer balls, and the like, but after a few minutes he managed to find a large net and set of poles. It was surprisingly light -- the poles seemed to be made of plastic -- and after a few minutes, Blaise managed to set them up in the gym.
"Ready to play, Adler?" he called, his voice taunting. He took his spot behind the net, tossing the ball in one hand. He slid one foot behind him, readying his racket in the other hand. He grinned.
"I'm going to serve from this box"-- Blaise tapped the square on the floor with his foot-- "and it has to bounce once on your side of the net, no more and no less. If it goes out of bounds before it bounces, you win the point. If it bounces before it goes out of bounds, I win the point. If it bounces twice on your side of the net, the point goes to me. Forty points wins the set, and two sets wins the match."
He bounced the ball once, then caught it again, waiting for Rhys to move into position.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 25, 2010 21:19:35 GMT -5
Rhys took his place on the other side of the net, racket in hand. He tried to judge how Blaise was standing and holding his racket and do something similar. Try to hit the ball so that it hits the ground, but away from the other guy; got it.
"Any time," he twanged. So long as he didn't look like he was trying too hard, he should be fine...
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 25, 2010 21:55:32 GMT -5
Blaise took a deep breath, feeling the smooth leather handle of the racket in his hand. It had been several weeks since he'd so much as set foot on a tennis court, but this...he was playing against a novice. Really, it wouldn't hurt him to hold back just a bit, at least at first. It would be a nice warm up.
Blaise took a step back, lining up his feet so that he was angled directly toward Rhys. He would give him an easy serve to start with, and determine how he would play from there.
He tossed the ball high into the air, then gave the racket a gentle swing, sending the ball hurdling toward Rhys.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 25, 2010 22:15:49 GMT -5
Rhys watched the ball coming down close to him and stepped quickly over behind it, swiping at the ball as it bounced back up from the hardwood floor. It ended up more as a scoop-and-toss than a hit, like a cat batting at a toy, and it barely limped over the net far enough to get hit back over.
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 25, 2010 22:29:38 GMT -5
Blaise cursed under his breath in French. "Damn it, can't you swing a racket right?" he snapped, diving forward toward the net. He narrowly swept the ball across the net, sending it spiraling onto the other side of the court and away from Rhys.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 25, 2010 22:31:50 GMT -5
Rhys dashed over to the other side of the court before the ball got there, waited a beat to see if it would bounce, and backhanded it hard towards the other boy.
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 25, 2010 23:12:25 GMT -5
The other boy hit the ball with too much force and too little control. The ball whizzed over the net and passed the line, knocking against the wooden bleachers and rolling somewhere behind them.
"If this is the longest you can last, maybe I should just do this on my own," he teased. Blaise smirked, grabbing another tennis ball. He bounced it once on the floor.
"Fifteen - love." Blaise tossed the ball high in the air, hitting it in an arc. The ball flew high over the net, then touched down right in front of the net.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 25, 2010 23:18:58 GMT -5
"Third time's the charm," Rhys growled through an evil grin, then lunged at the ball as it was bouncing past him. He knocked it in a nice arc back towards Blaise, then took half a second to regain his footing.
Less quipping, more moving, he thought, a little about himself and a little not. The challenge was already making him feel better.
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 25, 2010 23:30:40 GMT -5
Blaise shifted forward, giving the ball an easy underhanded swing and sending it back into Rhys' court. He'd take this set easy; Rhys was mediocre even for a beginner, and he didn't want to wear himself out while Rhys was still figuring out how to hold the damn racket.
"You're swinging it with your wrist," he shouted. "This is tennis, not ping pong. Keep your wrist straight. Swing with your shoulder."
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 25, 2010 23:52:19 GMT -5
Rhys watched Blaise move with interest, then moved a couple of steps to the left and knocked the ball back over the net, following Blaise's advice.
"So how long've you been doing this?" he replied.
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 26, 2010 0:05:58 GMT -5
Blaise stepped to the side, sweeping the ball back across the net. Rhys seemed to be trying to copy him, which wasn't a horrible strategy, though it would only get him so far.
"Elementary school. I've been playing in leagues since I was ten. What about you, do you play any sports?"
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 26, 2010 0:16:24 GMT -5
"Nope." Rhys jogged over to the other side and knocked the ball back. Ten? Rhys was scrawny when he was ten. Hell, he was scrawny now. There never seemed to be much point in sports, it was just more prep-school bastards yelling at him or teasing him or ganging up on him when he tried to fight back. That was what had nearly gotten him kicked out of school in sixth grade.
He really doubted it would be any better now, when he would either seriously injure somebody or they would kick his ass anyway. 'Sport' had nothing to do with anything.
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 26, 2010 0:27:00 GMT -5
Blaise could smell the faint, unpleasant scent of anger and resentment from the other side of the court, like bleach and chili peppers. Something about mentioning sports seemed to set him off.
"Not a sports fan, I take it?" Blaise dashed across the court and whacked the ball back with more force, making sure to aim it away from Rhys.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 26, 2010 0:31:28 GMT -5
Rhys ran over to the other side of the court again and just made it, knocking the ball somewhere or other over the net in a high, lazy arc.
"Not really," he called back. "I don't do teams."
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 26, 2010 0:40:33 GMT -5
"Neither do I," he replied. "That's why I play tennis."
Blaise surged forward, backhanding the ball over the net. The ball bounced once, just barely inside the line, then rolled out toward the double doors.
"That's another point to me," Blaise replied. He gave a somewhat feral grin. The other boy wasn't much of a challenge, but it still gave Blaise a twisted sort of satisfaction to be beating him.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 26, 2010 0:49:46 GMT -5
Rhys stood there for a moment, catching his breath and staring at Blaise. Jackass or not, if he had to room with this guy... he wanted to do this more often.
He walked over to grab the ball, since Blaise didn't seem to be doing it. "So who serves this one? You again?"
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 26, 2010 1:05:59 GMT -5
"Normally the ball alternates each point," he said, "which means it's your serve. Throw the ball and hit it before it touches the ground. If your first serve misses, you get a second chance."
Blaise stretched his arms slightly. He was used to much more movement on the court than this.
"You announce the score before you serve," he explained. "The first two points are worth fifteen points each, and the third is worth ten points. Since you haven't won a point yet, the score is love - thirty."
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 26, 2010 15:15:33 GMT -5
Rhys grabbed the ball and walked back over to the court. He placed his legs apart, took a deep breath, and tossed the ball straight up.
He took a step back, and keeping the best form he could mimic, swung at the ball; it hit the edge of the racket soundly and made a straight, slow path over the net, heading straight for the floor behind it.
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 26, 2010 15:48:44 GMT -5
Watching him objectively, it wasn't a terrible serve. Rhys had some potential, and he had the sense to imitate an experienced player rather than just swing blindly at the ball. His reflexes were slightly better than average, though his biggest flaw was easily his lack of control. Blaise wasn't quite sure whether he wanted him to be any good or not. It would be nice to have someone he could play with on his own level -- not that Rhys was likely to catch up to him any time soon.
Blaise skidded toward the net, but he already knew the point was going to Rhys. The ball quickly lost momentum, arcing over the net and landed on the floor, bouncing twice, barely more than ankle high. He made a soft growling sound deep in his throat, fighting back the temptation to pulverize the net with his racket.
He scooped the ball up into his hand, not so much as glancing back at Rhys. He walked back to the back corner, lined up his form, and hurled the ball high into the air. "Thirty - fifteen!" Blaise took one great swing, hitting the ball straight for Rhys' face.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 27, 2010 0:05:52 GMT -5
Rhys was still processing the fact that he'd gotten points when he realized the ball was heading towards his face. He snapped back and brought his arm up to his face, but not quickly enough; the ball hit him full-force in the nose, and for a moment, he saw stars.
The pain tangled up with lingering resentment and exploded into a frothy mess of emotion in his stomach that made his knees buckle. A sick, firey sensation ran through his limbs, and he had a brief moment of euphoria before he realized what was happening and clamped down on it hard. Half-curled up in the floor, he snarled through teeth that weren't quite small enough for his mouth anymore; he felt fur along his forearms and his legs had shifted strangely. He tried to impose his will on his body and force it back into shape, through the burning feeling and the temptation to just kill.
He could see tiny drops of his own blood on the floor, and shut his eyes. Not helping. Really not helping.
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 27, 2010 0:35:01 GMT -5
Blaise gripped the tennis racket so hard his knuckles turned white, lowering it slightly so that he was almost guarding himself with it. His left foot shifted slightly behind him, and his whole body tensed, preparing to bolt if needed. Time seemed to slow down slightly, and underneath the overwhelming stench of cat, Blaise could smell resentment and the sharp scent of pain. The hair on the back of Blaise's neck prickled.
He wasn't quite sure what he should do. Rhys certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to attack him... Rhys might not have been terribly athletic, but Blaise wasn't enough of an idiot to believe he could face a leopard. Blaise was fast, though, and small. He could outrun him, if he needed to.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 27, 2010 1:00:58 GMT -5
He lay there toppled over, frothing in pain and nausea, fingers folding backwards into claws and ripping against the wood floor. The effort of holding himself together felt like his brain was ripping in two. Eventually, the pain and exertion overtook the sick feeling, and in the second before his body gave out, he forced himself back.
Rhys lay still for nearly a minute, recovering, before he pushed himself back up into a sitting position. His shoes had come off, and he slipped them back on; they had small holes part of the way through the sole, but those had been there before. A tiny tuft of yellow fur was stuck between the tongue and the laces.
He looked over at Blaise, a haunted expression all he could muster. "Don't-" his voice broke, and he swallowed before continuing. "Don't. Fucking. Do that."
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 27, 2010 23:50:54 GMT -5
Blaise stared blankly at the other boy, not quite sure what to feel. The racket felt heavy in his hand. The scent around Rhys was bitter, like vinegar.
"Are you alright over there, Adler?" he called, shading his eyes from the bright overhead lights.
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Post by Rhys Adler on Apr 28, 2010 0:37:40 GMT -5
Rhys staggered to his feet and took a deep breath before responding.
"Hungry..." He looked at Blaise. "I'm out. Sorry. You wanna get something to, uh, eat with me, though... you're welcome."
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Post by Blaise Park on Apr 28, 2010 1:21:50 GMT -5
Blaise thought for a moment, fishing a tennis ball from underneath the stands. The scent of vinegar faded until Blaise could only smell the faint scent of heat and sweat, the sort of stench that never seemed to leave a high school gym.
Blaise dabbed his damp forehead with the back of his hand. They hadn't played for very long, but between the game and the moist heat, he had worked up a healthy sheen. It hadn't been much, but he supposed it was better than nothing. Until he could find someone who would actually play the sport, Rhys would be adequate. He could at least consistently hit the ball over the net.
He rested the racket over his shoulders, looking back up at Rhys. "Alright," he said, shrugging. "I haven't had dinner yet."
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