metem_logs | "It's the eye of the tiger; it's the thrill of the fight..."

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"It's the eye of the tiger; it's the thrill of the fight..."

Characters: Baldr, Tyr (possibly others?)
Date/Time: Terribly backdated to the weekend of February 1, 2013
Location: Los Angeles, CA
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fighting.
Summary: Sean has driven down the length of the state of California to start training with Tyr...

So, Sean wasn't usually terrible at a good spar. He was a regular lifter and had even been thrown into a random Akido and Tae-Kwon-Do class. Lying on his back after a sound leg sweeping, he can't help but chuckle, though mostly at himself. "Maybe I should just move down here for a month." Wiping his face with a hand, he hopped back up onto his feet.

It struck Sean as particularly odd that these odd Powers That Be would turn to physical tactics as opposed to the creepy and weird as they had during the holidays. In theory, wouldn't that be a better way to catch someone off-guard?

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"Thursday nights at eight... seven Central and Mountain." He stepped back a few paces, rolling his head around to stretch his neck before crouching down slightly. "All right. Same maneuver?"

"Yeah," Tyr agreed, moving into position. "Remember, look high, that'll help you determine when the strike is coming."

He nodded, attempting to keep Tyr's words of wisdom while fighting in mind. "So, if I were coming at someone, I should probably not look them directly in the eye." With that, he did pay more attention to Tyr's movements as he started for him, almost in an attempt at grappling. "Like this?" Damn, he felt like a nerd.

"That's right," Tyr explained. "though you can't let yourself get complacent." Tyr moved down, just under Sean's reach and as the arms moved over him, he sprang back up with an uppercut from his left hand.

Sean should have known something was coming. And perhaps he did, but the closed fist to the jaw was still a surprise, and it made his teeth clack together. His feet decided to not stay planted on the floor, and down went Sean. Despite the many times he'd ended up on his ass that day, bungled on the fall. He swore he saw stars and birds from his head bouncing off the floor.

He groaned and sat up slowly rubbing the back of his head. "Dude."

"Oh geez, I'm sorry, Sean," Tyr said coming over to offer Sean some help back up. "You okay?"

He blinked a few times before grabbing Tyr's hand. "Uh... I think so. I can still see and I haven't passed out, so I guess that's a good thing." He winced at the growing goose egg on his noggin and sighed. "Got any aspirin? Or an ice pack?"

Tyr goes over to his gym bag, pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to Sean before getting a bottle out of his pants pocket. "Tylenol work?"

"Works for me. Thanks." He smiled briefly as he took the water and the Tylenol. Easier on the gut, anyway." He tapped out two pills and tossed them into his mouth before chasing it with a long pull of water. "Gotta ask where you learned to do that."

"Well," Tyr began, trying to make it sound less crazy. Realizing he couldn't, he spilled. "About a couple centuries back as a Triad monk."

He arched a brow. "So... in addition to this whole deity thing, there are other lives to remember?" Sean gave a short laugh, feeling skeptical but knowing that he honestly couldn't. Not after the things that he had seen. "You gotta teach me that when my head isn't throbbing."

"Some of us," Tyr admitted. "Some have had several past lives, others went directly from their first life to the current one. I had several." Tyr smiled. "Sure thing. Okay, let's head back to my place and get something to eat."

"Sounds like a damn fine plan to me." He moved to get his bag, heading out with Tyr. "Hey... thanks for all this. Still trying to wrap my head around it, but I appreciate it."

Tyr gives Sean a pat on the shoulder. "You're welcome, Sean. C'mon, I'll drive."

"Since you drove us here, I was hoping so." He chuckled, albeit softly because of his throbbing noodle.

Sif was there to greet the guys at the door.
"Hi boys. Hope you're hungry," she said cheerfully. The house was filled with the scents of her cooking: Swedish meatballs, a broccoli-cheese casserole, and, of course, several dozen sugar cookies.

"How was practice?" she asked, brushing a kiss over Tyr's cheek and offering a hug to Baldr.

Tyr smiles, kissing Sif's cheek in turn.

"Famished, hon," Tyr assured. "He's learning, bit-by-bit, but he's learning."

He smiled and gave the dear hostess a gentle hug. "Learning to get my rear handed to me and how not to fall, but learning."

As he pulled away, he grinned. "Dinner smells amazing."

"My grandma's recipes for Swedish meatballs and broccoli-cheese casserole," Sif said.

"I helped!" Carl announced proudly. "Hi, Dad. Hi, Uncle Baldr. Dad! Dad, will you teach me too? Pleeeeeeeeeeease?"

"Maybe another time, Carl. Not now. It's time for dinner. What does everyone want to drink? And before you ask, you're getting milk, young man," Sif told her son.

"Sounds delicious."

"Oh did you now?" Tyr chuckles, picking his son up in a hug. "When you're older, Carl," Tyr assured. "I'll take a Pepsi, hon."

He chuckled at Carl and couldn't help but ruffle his hair slightly. "Hey, little dude." To Sif with a smile, though he did not ruffle her hair, "And I'll just have water, thanks."

"Can I have it choclit, Mom? Please?" Carl asked, turning on the proverbial Bambi eyes.

Sif smiled and shook her head a little.
"All right. One Pepsi, one water, and one chocolate milk," she said, "Otherwise, everything's on the island counter. Feel free to help yourselves. Plenty there, so take as much as you want."

"Uncle Baldr, Uncle Baldr! Sit by me, 'kay?" Carl said.

Tyr chuckled fondly before putting his son down and then heading to the table.

He couldn't help but chuckle at Carl's insistence, and he patted him on the back. "Sure thing, buddy." But something about hearing the boy call him 'Baldr' made him take pause. His smile faded into an expression more appropriate of bewilderment, and he slowly followed suit behind his hosts.

Children. A snowball fight; appropriate for the early spring. Forget-Me-Nots peeking up through some of the melt. Young faces and equally young voices long forgotten.

Sif got a plate dished up for Carl, and then one for herself after serving the drinks.
"Anything else I can get for anyone?" she offered.

"Hey, Uncle Baldr? You OK?" Carl asked, looking up at the faraway look on his face.

Sean blinked down at Carl and managed a smile. The last thing he wanted was for him to worry. "Yeah, bud. I'm okay. Just... bumped my head earlier and it kinda hurts. I'm all right. Better get to eating, though, before your plate gets cold."

He smiled up at Sif, though it didn't quite reach his eyes as he meandered to plate himself up some grub.

Tyr looked at Sean, concerned, but he made sure it didn't reach his face. He didn't want to worry Carl, but he would ask Sean later what was wrong.

Sif lightly touched Sean's shoulder as she moved past him.
We can discuss it later, was the wordless sentiment.

"OK," Carl conceded as he started to eat. "Mom kisses it if I get hurt. But it's usually fixed by then anyway."

Sean laughed a bit and spooned some of the amazing-looking-and-smelling food onto his plate. "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure your mom isn't going to kiss it better for me." He glanced over to Tyr and winked. "Your dad might, though. If only because he's my brother."

"Brother..." Baldr's concern was palpable as he took to Tyr's ear in the presence of the snarling Fenrir. "Are you certain?"

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"It's the eye of the tiger; it's the thrill of the fight..."

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