Brawls and Braisers

Evander wasn't feeling today, he was already totally mentally done with the day. He hadn't done well with Ancient Greek, and he spooked the pegasi again. Now it was lunch, and he just wanted the day to be over. Done. Redo. Not that that was going to happen.

He piled food onto his plate, then got up and headed to the braised to send an offering to his father. Not that it ever did any good. Or that he even liked his father. He muttered a prayer, not really paying attention, then turned and ran right smack into someone, their two plates colliding together in a crash. "You stupid, uncoordinated baffoon, watch where you're going!" Evander snarled, looking at his ruined food on his now equally ruined orange shirt. He looked up for a moment and saw his sister Chiara, and it just made him even more foul tempered.

I walk over to get my food and see someone has dropped food on the ground and I slip and fall. I try to get back up but I fall down again. OK! Who spilled food on the ground?! My perfectly good powder pink dress is ruined! Evander if I find out you did this, you will so regret it! I start fuming.

Evander was more focused on the fist coming at him than anything else, until someone called his name. He was distracted for a split second, enough that his dodge wasn't quite enough. The punch grazed him, but it was enough to make his ears ring. His anger boiled at the pain and he slammed his knee up, aiming to hit Chiara's sternum.

He turned his head to find who else was threatening him. "Rosalina! Blame this dog! And if you ever threaten me again, I will rip your head off and throw in a braisier as offering!" He bellowed.

Evander was not as graceful or formally trained as Chiara, but he was fast and strong. He blocked and dodged several hits, and absorbed a few to his torso, but was able to avoid getting hit in a weak area like the solar plexus or the kidneys. He kept his face clear too. It was just like regular street fighting.

One punch thrown, Evander grabbed at Chiara's wrist with his large hand. If he could get her grip, he could pull her into an arm lock or knock her legs out from under her. Then he was going to pound her into oblivion.

OOC: Chiara's pretty much everything but graceful..

BIC: The punches, kicks and hits continued, Mr D saying stuff like "kids calm down" or "Clara, leave Elvis alone" from time to time but his lack of care was obvious. Chiara broke her wrist out of his grip and pushed forward, aiming to slam him against the Hermes table. They had moved around the place a bit, rolling on the floor and standing back up but Chiara had fought Evander enough to know it could go either way. They were as strong and skilled as the other one.

OOC: You have two ox fighting in a china shop, which ox is more graceful? :-P

IC:

Evander spun as Chiara moved forward, but slipped on the food on the ground, he tries to catch his balance, but couldn't save it, slamming his large body sideways into the table, sending plates scattering. "Sorry!" He said completely out of habit before throwing an elbow at Chiara's back. He was not going to let the know it all punk win. She walked on everyone, and she was going to learn to respect him.

OOC: You're saying that only because she's a girl.

BIC: His elbow slammed into her shoulder, sending her tumbling back. She grabbed some sharp pieces of China and tossed them at him like she'd throw her knives, aiming them with skill and precision at his sternum and stomach. Behind them, Chiron called for them to stop in a loud voice.

OOC: Silat requires some grace. MCMAPs and pankration do not.

IC:

Evander probably would have been skewered with several bowl and plate shards if he hadn't grabbed a large salad bowl as soon as he realized what she intended with those shards. "What the h*ll?! That is NOT kosher!"

He would have thrown the bowl at her except for Chiron yelling. He didn't go after her, though he wanted to. That was a dirty trick, and he had been avoiding dirty tricks like using the pottery as weapons. Or shoving her head into a braisier. Or throwing a small Aphrodite kid at her.

He kept the bowl ready, still up like a shield. He didn't trust her to stop. Not if she was going to fight dirty. And he was totally going to short-sheet her bed tonight.

"Good reason to fight. You're a lot more likely to win." Evander retorted, taking a deep breath, then wincing hard. He didn't wince nearly as hard when Chiron said dishes. He was used to being on detention in one school or another. Lava dishes sucked, but right now not nearly as much as his ribs.

The problem with adrenaline is the temporary numbing effects. Fight or flight reflex, in Evander always set to fight, caused decreased sensation as a protection method to finish a hazardous task before succumbing to pain. Once the danger is passed, the pain you didn't know you had hits you full force.

Bruised ribs all around, most likely, but his hard fall on the Hermes table meant he probably had a few cracked ribs too. His torso felt like a freshly pummeled piece of meat, tenderized and ready to be cooked. His shins were bruised, and when he tried to stand up to brush himself off, his scarred thigh protested enough that he unceremoniously sat back down again.

"Uh...Chiara? Do you have any spare nectar?" He asked through gritted teeth.

Chiara wiped away the blood trickling from her nose, panting. Dishes... ew. Well at least it wasn't stable cleaning, the stench had a thing of staying with you for several days, no matter how many showers you took.

She heard Evander and gritted her teeth before fishing out her emergency pack from her pocket and tossing him a square.


OOC: Short, mobile

Evander caught the square of ambrosia, causing a flair of sharp stabbing pain to radiate through his chest and arm. He groaned, but couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity as well. Everything hurt because he and Chiara had just tried to kill each other, so who does he ask for help from? Of course, his sister. "Thanks, sis."

He ripped open the bag and shoved the square in his mouth. It was dry as toast, but tasted like fresh oranges. The texture was awful and always almost made him retch, but he was hurting enough that it didn't matter. Warmth spread through his torso as the bones started to reknit and the muscles started to heal. He'd be sore a day or two, but fine. And he bet he would get into another scuffle before then.