Duck and Weave (Open)

1, 2. 1, 2. 1, 2. The pattern kept going and going, Zen practiced the basic one two's of his fighting style in the training area. This was after class when he had that small confrontation with that snow-haired doe. The entirety of it hadn't been the whole reason why he showed up and started practicing, but it ultimately had him thinking about the different perspectives of the people who inhabited the world. The lion made that the point of his concentration and each punch resembled something. One, his views, two the others. Each one had equal strength and was just as integral as the other. One was could be perceived as stronger because of the bias put into it, but if a person shared the same amount of favoritism toward another point of view, then it becomes equal in strength. The paradox is that both are always equal in weight, but biases put up the perception that one is stronger than the other.

Dressed in a pair of black sweat pants and a white, fitted tank-top, with his hair tied into a very large, very blonde ponytail that billowed, the young man ditched his usual armor and had it off to the side. This was the training arena, after all. Anyone could have decided they'd want to take him on, so he prepared to have everything at his disposal. Until then, however, he just practiced his simple combinations. Eventually, he began to mix it up. Threw in a simple jab, jab, body combo, then continued to step up each regimen. His sharp breaths left his lips with each punch thrown.

Fancy footwork was what he had. Despite his stature, Zen knew how to keep himself moving with speed and precision. A visible sweat began to build on his features after an hour or so of really going at it. Yet, he didn't feel fatigued or even close to it.

"I can see her point, I really can, but... She limits herself to just the logic in front of her! Things aren't as simple as one-plus-one equals two, it just isn't ever that simple." He told himself and that's when he threw in a quick, strong roundhouse kick. Then that's when he ducked and weaved, throwing his punches with full force and will. The air distorted slightly around each one and his face displayed utmost seriousness, as he moved across the area. Zen was fast and thus, his movements were hard to read. "Just like fighting, there isn't no one formula. Anything can happen at any time... Especially in a world like this, logic can easily be defied!" The lion reasoned.

He roared out at that final thought and threw a heavy punch into the ground. His aura brightened up around him and when that fist connected to the ground, it caused an earthquake in his general vicinity. However, nothing broke, nothing exploded, it was all just controlled energy. A single fist print was all he left in the ground after he removed it, followed by him letting out a sigh of respite. "That felt good. Maybe that's what everyone needs some time, a good moment of meditation on philosophy, while punching the crap out of something."

A hardy laugh exited his lips at the conclusion. Angelina Luna wasn't wrong one bit, she was right in her own regard, but what really got to him was how close-minded she was. Maybe she's opened to others' opinions once she has prolong exposure to them. That was his wishful thinking, he didn't know the woman at all to make such an assumption... Didn't mean he couldn't try.

Life in Syne was peaceful. Which in a strange way, put Chakide on edge. He had woken up in a start, the scene of his father's death plagued his dreams. In silence he gathered his Syne Academy issued gym clothes, his sword and Kutetea, his gauntlet. The weasel faunus left his room and his three slumbering roommates. The young man made his way for the training room, there he spent every morning working on his swordsmanship and other various forms of combat. Unlike many of the students in Battle Schools, Chakide lacked a ranged weapon, he had never crafted his own weapon either, he had ideas but had never focused on it enough to make it. Instead he focused on his ability to adapt to different combat scenarios, avoid damage, and to take the damage when dodging was impossible.

He spent a majority of his time, since his father's death, in Atlas. There he trained to become a strong Huntsman but was expelled due to his inability to, as the Headmaster worded it, put other's before himself. The young man didn't deny this flaw, Chakide held no love for those unable to handle their own issues. He worked as hard as he could to protect people but that didn't mean he felt the need to hold their hands. If they couldn't handle their own problems then why should he do it for them? The idea that he had to babysit annoyed him.

On his way to the training room he noticed many Huntsmen and Huntresses meandering while talking about an episode of some show they watched the night before. Normally this sort of idle chit-chat didn't bother Chakide but he normally didn't wake up from a dream that involved his father being burned to cinders. The very topic of something that didn't help them prepare to help keep them or someone else alive, sent him into an even more noticeable rage. The people that he walked past seemed to take note of his attitude and steer clear.

Once at the Training Room Chakide pushed open one of the doors and could hear the shifting of feet, the exhalation of breath and the smell of sweat. There was also a voice, someone was talking while training. Chakide's curiosity curbed his rage and nudged him to investigate. A large blond man was executing different attack drills. He moved with power and a type of grace only seen in the truly dangerous. The combatant seemed to be speaking to himself about an encounter with someone. Though the context was lost on Chakide he thought he understood why the man was here. He was working off frustration. Something Chakide was also here to do.

The man, whom upon further investigation proved to be a lion faunus, let out a laugh that carried well throughout the room. His words had carried as well, something that gave Chakide a way to interact rather than to have an awkward intro. "Philosophy and violence. A bit of a contradiction in some beliefs." He said as he descended the few steps to the training room floor. "Though I'd say I'm a firm believer in that idea myself." Chakide spoke with a calm that was betrayed by the tense state of his muscles. "Are you finished or would you like a sparring partner?"

Zen's ears perked to the sound of footsteps, followed by the voice of a young male. He turned in the voice's general direction to gaze upon the man directly. A dark-skinned male of a muscular build, dreadlocks, and his own two weapons. Apparently he shared in the same philosophy and that brought a big grin to his features. "Good to hear. You'd be surprised by the amount of people who can't see beyond what's directly in front of them." He stated with a simple shrug and shake of his head.

When inquired about whether or not he needed a sparring partner, Zen gave him a thumbs up and nodded. "I could always do with one." The lion stated. Even without the features, just one sniff in his direction (not noticeable) and he could tell that the person in front of him was a faunus. They just had that scent which gave off a different pheromone than other humans. "So how do you want to go about this? Barebones or fully geared?" The question came and that's when the hunter went to going about his warm-up exercises.

The lion started with squats and did so with controlled motion and breathing. Each and everyone done was performed with the same timing. His body had to stay warmed up and loose, lest he cramp and cool-down. A warrior can't have his own body against him even in a friendly spar. That's likely why there was a persistent smile on Zen's face. He enjoyed staying in a constant, hot-blooded state.