[outfit]

Now that school has been in session for nearly a month, classes had started to pick up and get past their introductory swing. Kit considered this a very good thing, since her mind, like her body detested not being active to its full potential. The drawback was that sometimes Kit had to sacrifice her training sessions to make sure she had ample time to complete her schoolwork.

Today was a catchup day for Kit. Not schoolwork- she'd already caught up on everything she need for Monday. Today was catchup for all her training, with a little bit of practical schoolwork thrown into the mix.

She had temporarily borrowed a couple suits of armor and set them up in the classroom, along with a table of bottles, boxes and other targets. She needed to get some good old fashioned dueling practice in. She had another table set up of to the side with a few books on dueling spells, stances and techniques she would probably refer to as the session wore on. She'd also brought one of her fencing sabres with her as well, to mix things up a bit. Actually, she'd love to experiment with mixing wand and foil dueling, but for that she needed a proper partner to test its actual effectiveness.

Even so...it couldn't hurt to try, could it?

Her wand in her left hand and sabre in her right, Kit took her stance and cast a charm over one of the suits, causing the fasions of the plates to come undone and fall clattering to the floor.

She had barely finished her incantation when she pivoted and lunged, stabbing the empty air with a backhanded thrust right where a person's torso would be if there had been a real person under the suit.

Satisfied, Kit drew away, keeping herself in a defensive posture out of sheer habit. Yes, that had worked quite nicely, she thought. Of course, the chances of her fighting anyone in a suit of armour was relatively slim, but it couldn't hurt to be prepared.

The clattering of the metal plates to the stone floor had been almost excessively loud. Kit was hoping a wandering professor wouldn't come in; she wasn't sure they'd appreciate her using the suits at target practice.

Rather uncharacteristically, Sasha had lingered in bed for quite some time that Saturday morning.  Most weekends saw him up and out - usually getting a good jog or swim and a few assignments out of the way before heading to brunch.  But, on this particular Saturday morning, Sasha had remained in his bed, reading with the curtains around his bed drawn. 

He'd lingered in bed until well after the last of his dormmates had left the dorm for the Great Hall.  The hesitation hadn't been out of any new found sense laziness or exhaustion.  It had simply been out of an attempt to limit how much he broadcast the previous day's encounter with three Slytherins at the Quidditch pitch.  The results of that day had achieved a brilliant shade of purple and green and Sasha preferred to avoid questions if he could manage it. 

Once the dorm had been empty, Sasha had slipped out of bed and gathered his books.  The hood of his school robes pulled up over his head, Sasha made his way quickly out of Ravenclaw tower in search of a quiet place to study where he was unlikely to be disturbed. 

Given the couple brilliant bruises on his face, it seemed unlikely the library would provide him with peace and solitude to work in. 

One of the unused classrooms seemed the best option.  Sasha had been making his way down one of the corridors when a sudden loud crash drew his attention towards one of the classrooms. 

Should he investigate?  Was he expected to investigate?  As prefect, probably so.  If he didn't and it was some student trapped under something big (and by the sounds of it) metal, he could just imagine the lectures he'd get from both Snark and Professor Bombay if he simply walked away.  Filled with resolve, he tugged the door open and glanced around the room.

He recognized the fifth year, of course.  He and Kit shared a number of classes.  And, he'd heard rumors of her 'extra-curricular' activities but he wasn't expecting to walk in on the Gryffindor with sword in hand.  Sasha froze, watching her a moment before realizing he was, more than likely, intruding. 

"I'm - I'm sorry," he muttered.  "I didn't think ... I was just making sure- I'm ..."  He wasn't really sure what he was trying to say. 

I'm - I'm sorry

Kit turned at the sound of a voice. Of course the crash was likely to cause attention. Maybe next time she should have gone with a silencing charm. Not to mention that she couldn't hear anyone approach in the time it took for all the metal to hit the floor.

"Oh, hello Mr. Schlagenweit," Kit said politely, as if there was nothing out of he ordinary or unusual about walking into a person dueling a suit of armor with Muggle and wizarding means. Of course, for Kit, it wasn't.

Though what WAS unuusal were the bruises on her classmate's face. Kit's eyes flickered briefly to them and she scowled inwardly. She didn't know Schlagenweit  that well, but she knew enough to believe that he was neither clumsy or fight prone.

didn't think ... I was just making sure- I'm ...

"It's quite alright," she assured him. "I would have probably investigated if I heard a noise like that myself."

Her thoughts once again drifted to the young man's injuries (though not her eyes; it would be incredibly rude to stare).

"Perdon me for asking,  but might I inquire what happened?" she asked. A bit forward, yes, but then again when it came to injuries, she could be less than subtle and it wasn't like anyone with bruises like that could honestly expect no one to notice.

Sasha offered Kit a slightly awkward and uneasy grin.  It was impossible to tell if the Gryffindor would have been able to see the grin, with it partially obscured by the edges of the hood of his robes.  But, the shy shrug would have been more obvious, regardless of his current attire. 

"'Allo."  As ordinary as this image may seem to Kit, it was far from what Sasha might have expected to see when he opened the door.  Again, Sasha glanced between the unfortunate suit of armor and back at Kit.

Kit didn't seem upset about the intrusion.  Nor did she seem on the verge of chasing him back out.  Sasha committed himself to the interaction and moved a little further in the room.   

"Well, it's not exactly something you expect to come across in every room," Sasha pointed out.   "Do ... do you practice often?"   

No - it didn't surprise Sasha at all that Kit had noticed the less than normal state of his face.  The color that flooded his face as he shrugged and looked down probably didn't really help, either.  "It's not much," he said, dismissively.  "You know how it is."  Though, of course, maybe she didn't.  Here she was jabbing a sword around.  She may not fall victim to critical students as regularly as he did. 

It seemed pointless to try to keep hiding the effects of the previous afternoon so Sasha brushed the hood of his robes back.  He set his books down on a desktop.  "I guess I did something to offend some of the other students," he offered, vaguely.  Even if she didn't find herself in his shoes, perhaps that was enough explanation for her to gather his meaning.  If he could avoid saying 'I got beat up' word for word, he'd rather avoid it.

Schlagenweit returned Kit's own greeting, albeit a bit more awkwardly. She followed his gaze to the heap of metal that had been a suit of armor with some amusement. Showing off was unbecoming in a lady, but when someone happened to stubble across Kit's exploits it was difficult not to be just a bit proud of herself.

She laughed when the Ravenclaw pointed out that students dueling suits of armor wasn't a very common sight.

"You do have a point," Kit said. "And yes, I practice every day, though the location and..ah..targets vary."

She was fairly certain that most of her housemates had gotten used to the sight of dueling empty armor, since a lo of her practice was done in the common room in the early hours of the morning before breakfast.

When Schlagenweit blushed after Kit asked about his injuries, Kit did feel a bit bad for prying. It was obviously a sensitive subject (literally and figuratively).

When she listened to his "explanation" Kit's eyes narrowed. Her hands clenched a little tighter around her wand and fencing sabre. If there was one thing, one type of person she detested it was a bully.

"Offending some of he other students" was it? That was a euphemism for bullying if she'd ever heard one. She couldn't imagine Schlagenweit doing or saying something that would incite such behaviour of a reasonable person. Unfortunately there were many less than reasonable persons on campus who would be "offended" at someone's presence, especially when alone.

"I see," Kit said flatly. "My condolences."

 She wasn't quite sure how to respond beyond that. She didn't know Schlagenweit well enough to press for more details, though she wanted to. Just asking what she had had obviously made him uncomfortable. Asking if he had reported tit was similarly discounted, because h was already a prefect a reporting it to a Head Student or professor could just make that sort of thing worse. Whatever children were told otherwise, the most effective way to handle that sort of thing was by your own means.

Saying something along the lines of "I hope you gave as good as you got" seemed childish, though not unlike someting a younger Kit would say and do (if someone ever gave Kit a black eye, she'd make sure said person would have walking difficulty for at least a week).

"I hope you managed to come to a resolution that will avoid repeating the incident," she said, finally choosing a subtle way of asking the "but you should see the other guy" question and hoping he didn't just lie down at take it. Something to prevent them from coming back for seconds. Of course, Kit was always more than willing to be a "deterrent." Starting fights were unladylike, but finishing them or starting them in defense of another was acceptable. But again, she didn't know Schlagenweit that well and it would have been more than a little presumptuous to suggest .

There, really, wasn't anywhere neutral for Sasha to settle his gaze on though, for several minutes, he tried a variety of different options.  By principle, looking directly at Kit was out of the question.  Not that Sasha could have given a concrete answer as to why, if someone were to ask.  His gaze flickered, quickly, past the weapon in her hand.  And, frankly, staring off into space was just ... awkward. 

Finally, his line of sight settled on the pile of metal that had once been a suit of armor.  Not because it was less awkward but, for whatever reason, it seemed to pique his curiosity.  A question flickered, unwelcomed, through his head.  How old was that suit of armor?  Given the armor's place of residence, it could be quite old.  He knew, logically, that the armor could be put back just as it was with magic. 

But, despite the question his mind posed in his own head, Sasha was, largely, intrigued and - even slightly jealous of Kit's chosen past time.  He turned his attention away from the armor and looked over at Kit.  Not that he'd ever really been interested in fencing, directly.  But, in general, "as a kid, I always wanted to get into that - you know, medieval stuff.  Not that fencing is just ... I know it's more, it can be contemporary.  But, like those reenactment groups?  Well - it's probably more ... a muggle thing," he concluded on his own, his gaze finally leaving the pile of armor and moving towards Kit. 

Whether any of that would make sense to her, he didn't have a clue.  He knew Kit from classes, of course.  And, this year they were both prefects.  But, beyond that, Sasha hadn't gotten to know the Gryffindor very well. 

He'd tried to be discrete and careful about his choice of words but Kit seemed to have no problem reading between the lines.  A fresh tinge of color blossomed on his face and Sasha looked back towards the suit of armor. 

"Resolution?" Sasha repeated.  He looked up again.  He wasn't sure what she meant by 'resolution' but the second part was easier to respond to.  "I haven't managed to avoid it, yet.  I doubt it's going to change.  I ... It wasn't -" It wasn't that bad?  He'd had worse?  "I just have to be more careful, next time."  How that would help, he wasn't sure. 

Kit watched Schlagenweit's eyes flit about the room with interest. She wasn't sure if he just had a short attention span or twitchy.

When his gaze finally returned to Kit herself he started talking again. Medieval reenactments? She raised her eyebrows, curiosity peaked. Not that she hadn't heard of such a thing, mind you, but she was rather surprised to hear Schlagenweit talk about them in such a manner. She hadn't really pegged him for a medieval reenactment type.

"No, I now what you mean," she said. "Fencing's really the only way to do any semblance of swordplay outside reenactments anymore and it is, as you said, relatively modern."

She twirled the hilt in her hand and glanced down at her weapon fondly before looking back up at her fellow prefect. "I don't suppose you've ever been to a Renaissance  Faire?" Kit asked.

She had a few times. She wasn't sure if it was really her thing, though it certainly was her sister and father's. But usually some of the bigger ones had some small fencing competitions. Not to mention the hearkening back to the hayday of chivalry and knights, something that was very much up Kit's alley.

When Schlagenweit flushed at her words, Kit confirmed her guesses were right on the mark. And that she probably shouldn't push the matter further. Even if the "be more careful comment" had her nearly bursting at the seams. It was hard enough to erase the frown and angry creased brow into a neutral expression.

It was not her place to go try and "resolve" the matter for Schlagenweit. Not unless he requested it, and they didn't really know each other that well yet. Sometimes, things like this made Kit wish she was a boy. Most bullies, while foulmouthed, boorish and crude, at least had been raised with enough sense not to raise a hand (or wand) to a girl. As it was unbecoming of a lady to start a fight, that meant that Kit was greatly restricted in putting bullies in there place (as she so wanted to do) unless said bullies threw the first punch or another participating member of a "conflict" requested her aid.

"I see," she finally said, pursing her lips together. Hmmm. Awkward. Now what? She wasn't forward enough to offer him her services to resolve the matter.

And idea occurred to her.

"Would you like to take a stab, pardon the pun, at fencing?" she asked him pleasantly. "It's not really reenactment but it might give you a feel for it and help you decide if you want to give a more antique method a try."

And teach him some self defense skills, like avoiding getting hit. Hmm? Ulterior motives? Nooooo.

It was always nice when Sasha didn't have to launch into explanations about muggle things.  He distinctly remembered how much amusement Beatrix found in his explanation of the rules of football.  It was a great game - lots of fun but, somehow, when one got into explaining how one ball was kicked around a field by a bunch of people running in short shorts, football seemed to pale in comparison to things like quidditch. 

But, at least, football was enjoyable to most muggles.  Even amongst muggles, the idea of reenactment groups weren't exactly popular conversation.  Explaining that was bound to be several times worse. 

Sasha nodded.  "And, fencing's more refined than the ... you know..."  He paused a moment, sifting around in his head for the best choice of words.  "It's not just bashing each other."  Which seemed to be the swordplay tactics of choice amongst reenactment types.  More knights in shining armor in full out battle swordplay (or the romanticized version of it) rather than the twelfth century Spaniards dueling over a woman fencing. 

He shook his head, almost imperceptibly.  "I always wanted to go.  There are a few of them every summer around Bavaria -  a few of the bigger ones, too.  You know, the ones that have the full set up.  Complete with the jousting tournaments.  I always wanted ... to do that."  His voice trailed off, an almost confessional tone to the admission.  "Never was allowed to, though.  My schedule's pretty tight over the summer."  Even if there was room in the schedule, it was highly unlikely he would have gotten permission.  Renaissance Faires definitely fell into the category of 'frivolous fantasy only suitable for those that have nothing better to do with their time or hope for in their future.'

"I'm sorry," he offered, shaking his head.  He knew well enough that Kit's frown wasn't directed at him, necessarily.  But, he also knew he was responsible for it.  Either way, the appeasement behavior had become firmly ingrained years ago.  Unfortunately, Sasha had always found it was much more effective in more civilized (and less bully-ish) crowds. 

A small grin twitched at the corners of Sasha's mouth as he considered the sword in Kit's hand.  There was a certain irony to this situation though Sasha couldn't identify what, specifically, gave him that impression.  "I actually took about a year and a half of sabre - but I wasn't progressing fast enough so they took me out of it.  I didn't really have time with riding, though."  All nice and interesting but he was avoiding the question. 

"I don't know how much I remember."  More avoiding the question.  More agreeing without agreeing.