Jump to Navigation

A Meeting of Minds, of Times

 
Ytte Skovlund's picture
Storylines:
Faction:
Submission type:

 

 

Hyle told me you are a soldier.”

 

Ytte looked up from her meal. Reavy had been standing at The Waffelhus counter for at least five minutes in silence waiting for Theis while he prepared her sandwiches and drink to go.

 

That is correct.” Ytte pushed her now empty plate forward and swivelled in her seat to face the tall, powerfully built woman. She guessed Reavy was probably 10cm taller than herself in her heavy black boots, although she was not wearing the massive black armours that she was when Ytte first saw her two night ago at Hyle’s house. Today Reavy wore a much lighter skin tight leather outfit with a plunging neck line which displayed her decolletage admirably. Despite this, Reavy was amply armed. The impressing sniper rifle hung from her back and the handle of a savage looking knife poked from the scabbard hanging at her thigh.

 

For several long moments two pairs of steely blue eyes regarded the other, appraising, sizing one and other up.

 

Reavy noted the old sawn off shotgun holstered at Ytte’s hip, her long flowing blonde hair from under which blue eyes stared back. Ytte wore just a plain blue t-shirt through which she noted two nipples poked at the thin material atop small breasts. Ytte didn’t look like any soldier she had been used to. She didn’t look particularly powerful or muscular, Reavy was singularly unimpressed with Ytte as a military clone. Except for two things. Her eyes, and her bearing. Ytte showed an air of authority and dicipline.

 

Theis coughed and placed Reavy’s lunch pack on the counter, His intervention broke the pseudo-feline stand-off. He felt relieved as the bristling ceased and Reavy placed a few chips on the counter then headed for the door.

 

As she reached the door, Reavy turned, her face devoid of any emotion

 

Do you want to spar with me?”

 

Ytte turned in her seat and faced Reavy, a thin Teutonic smile appeared on her lips, She figured this was Reavy’s way of offering some form of friendship. Theis involuntarily glanced down at the ‘red-pedal.’

 

Naturlich. May I choose the weapon?” Ytte replied, Reavy nodded. Ytte made that damned smile again. “Sabre.”

 

Reavy nodded again. “Meet me behind my house.” Reavy knew Hyle would be non too pleased to hear of her brawling in the street. Far better to be discreet. Out of sight is out of mind, after all.

 

 

She knew she had one somewhere. Reavy delved into the storage box. Finally she retrieved the old sword just as the sound of Ytte’s horse was heard outside. Clever bitch, Reavy thought. The sword looked dull in her hands. As dull as her sword fencing skills.

 

Ytte waited by her horse as Reavy appeared. Ytte tied her hair back behind her head then untied a dark leather roll from which she produced her sabre. Unlike Reavy’s, this one shone brightly, the sun flashed on it as she tied the scabbard to her belt.

Ytte turned to face Reavy and drew, she swiped the sword from left to right then back again twice before saluting, holding the sabre vertically in front of her face. From the handle hung two velvet tassels, one Prussian Blue, the other white. She folded her off-hand behind her back. Reavy nodded in return.

 

Fifteen seconds later, as she was picking her sword out of the grass, Reavy was mentally adjusting her appraisal of Ytte. Ytte was probably 70 kilo’s soaking wet! How in hell did she just disarm her!

 

A minute later, Reavy bent down to pick up her sword again, this time the third time. She was acquiring a growing respect for this damned woman. She stood up to face Ytte once more. Ytte saluted the sword and advanced. Reavy wished she had chosen pistols, hand-to hand melee, baseball bats, anything except sabres.

 

Ten Minutes later Ytte had the point of her sabre poised at the bottom of the V of Reavy’s leather outfit. Reavy was on her back, looking up. Ytte smiled.

 

My father gave me my first sabre for my fourth birthday.” Ytte volunteered as she replaced the sabre in it’s scabbard. “I figure he really wanted a son.” Ytte offered her hand to pull Reavy back onto her feet. “Tell me more about your rifle.”

 

Reavy masked her chagrin of being bested quite well as she lead Ytte indoors but accorded Ytte more respect than she had originally given. In fact she was warming towards Ytte a little.

 

 

I have the sights set at the moment for 1000 meters but in automatic, this one can fire four shots a second.” Reavy explained, pointing out the magazine and the fire selector of the rifle.

 

Ytte turned the rifle on her hands. What Reavy was explaining was almost akin to witchcraft compared to those weapons she had become familiar with during her army days.

 

We were issued with Dreyse rifles. They were the leading edge of technology then. A good man would be able to fire 12 shots a minute. Even that was much more than the Danes and their muskets, they could only manage four a minute on a good day. This is …. Fanstiche!”


toys


 

Reavy smiled. “That assault rifle there.” She pointed at the bench. “It can fire 10 a second. Maybe you should get one?”

 

Ytte laughed a little “Maybe.” She smiled, Reavy was actually a lot more talkative than she had imagined. But clearly guns were her specialist subject. She realised that if Reavy could shoot anything like as well as she could talk, choosing the sabre was the perfect choice this morning. Ytte decided to try a different tack.

 

So, tell me what you think of Hyle.”

 

Reavy paused, considering her answer.

 

It's... hard to describe. She's special. When you run into someone in this godforsaken wasteland who is clean, beautiful, isn't a prostitute, doesn't try to stab you in the back, actually doesn't kill people and makes waffles, that has to get your attention. One of the few people who managed to stop me from pulling the trigger.”

 

Ytte pondered the answer. She could relate to Reavy’s view of Hyle. But then, Reavy was nothing like the meat-headed, gung-ho enforcers she had seen on her brief visit to Post 23. She decided to probe a little deeper while Reavy seemed more open.

 

But she seems to dislike military types, how come you two ended up together, it seems so unlikely.”

 

Reavy rested her behind on the bench, placing her hands on the top either side, she relaxed and smiled.

 

"If you're a military type that shoots troublemakers in her town for quite a while, it gets you bonus points. And I've been doing that since three Mayors before Hyle. Though how we ended up together was kinda funny. Was one a party, gotten drunk and when i get drunk I tend to be way more relaxed, usually ends up with me flirting with women. I generally don't expect it to work, especially not if it's a woman who's straighter than that Straight Jacket guy. But after this one party I’d gotten invited to a sauna... had no idea what it is. Turns out sitting naked in hot steam with someone can bring people together.”

 

Ytte watched Reavy, something calm and happy exuded from Reavy as she talked about Hyle. She recalled Hyle had spoken once about the Reavy she loved. The one under the armour. The one few people saw. Ytte wanted to add to the picture a little more.

 

"But she seems a pacifist, How does that sit with your military training or attitudes ?"

"It doesn't. Especially since i can't just sit around. Tried that. Drives me crazy when my brain is not concentrating on possible threats, operational planning or execution of that plan for a long time. I can sit somewhere two days waiting for a target to show up, but I can't sit at home in a peaceful town. Sometimes I get wounded, which is even worse. Can see how it strains her. Then I get punished by having to wear high heels or put on make-up." Reavy said the last sentence with a laugh, stretching her back as she looked at Ytte.

Ytte laughed along she could see Reavy’s point about Hyle.

Do you see that as a punishment?”

Reavy paused… clearly thinking.

 

 

 

 ((  written with additonal input from Reavy))

 

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

((Great pic, great story... is there going to be a part 2?

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Reavy's picture

That saber fight nicely depicts the reason why Reavy uses guns even in melee :D

zy9ekl.png

Veronica Volt's picture

I almost expected, as the Reavy strikes back, dressed in black, saber in hand, breathing heavy from fighting, to say "Yes Ytte, i am your mother!'. Great post! I look forward to reading the return of the Ytte.

Joe Spivey's picture

Reavy as a mother...? *Tries really really hard but hasn't got enough imagination juice to see it*

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Reavy's picture

Actually Reavy did adopt Allriae at one point. It did end up looking more like a military training than parenting though :D

zy9ekl.png

Joe Spivey's picture

Lol, yes, i think i remember that.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Hyle Troy's picture

yes. part two is being discussed :)

I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, like Grandad, than screaming, like his passengers



Main menu 2

Blog | by Dr. Radut