Much like the trophy room, Kit found that the armour gallery was the perfect place for contemplation. It was not uncommon for her to spend hours in the place, pondering on battle tactics, defensives stances and advantages and disadvantages of offensive forms. Far more productive in her mind then silly things like working out the meaning of last night's dream.

No the only nights she was interested where the ones with armour and swords. Or spears. She wasn't that picky on a weapon of choice so long as it worked.

And that was precisely why she was here. Since this school erroneously lacked proper non-magic combat tactics and instead focused on useless things like broom flying, Kit had to do much of this work herself. Her only teachers were her intuition and the silent (mostly) suits that lined the gallery.

Ever so carefully, Kit removed her coat and set in on a blanket she had brought (like she would ever lay her possessions of the dirty ground) along with her wand and fencing foil.

She then adjusted her gloves, smoothed her skirt and properly walked (ladies didn't 'march' anywhere) up to a suit holding a halberd, and lifted it from the armor's grasp. She wasn't stealing, ladies didn't steal. She was temporarily borrowing and unable to ask permission because the owner was an inanimate object.

Gripping the halberd with both hands, she planted her feet and attempted a few practice swings to get a feel for the weapon. If a professor asked, she would explain the inability to obtain permission again as well as adding that this was all hypothetical. Honest.

As was rather common these days Xavier was wandering the corridors with no destination in mind. He simply just needed to move. He didn't want to be in the library, too many students, he didn't want to be in the Great Hall, too much noise and he certainly didn't want to be in his dorm room, too much Callum. For now the silent mostly empty corridors were enough for him. With his bandaged hands in his pocket he glanced in any doorway he passed by simply for something to do.

As he came to the armoury his cold grey blue eyes caught sight of something rather intersting. A fifth year Gryffindor he didn't pay any attention to, dressed in an immaculate school uniform swinging a halberd. Despite himself, this was something he just couldn't continue to walk away from. This was something that actually warranted his attention (unlike most of what was happening at school these days)

Almost soundlessly Xavier entered the room watching the girl practice swing the long staffed axe around. He found himself actually impressed with how easily she held it. The weapon of choice at Hogwarts had always been a wand. Xavier was fascinated by weapons in general and was surprised that someone like Kit, who always seemed to be too stuck for her own good would be just as enthusiastic about the non magical weaponry as he was.

"If ye don' follow through on yer swing you'll neva be able ta do any real damage." How like him to be impressed by someone and use it as a way to criticize them?

If ye don' follow through on yer swing you'll neva be able ta do any real damage

Kit spun on her heel (though careful to keep control of the weapon- the last thing she needed was flying tempered steel death) to face the newcomer. A Slytherin. Lovely. Yes yes, Ferguson was a Slytherin. He was also an exception.

However this particular example of the rule was two years above Kit and so mostly unknown expect a last name and a most disturbing rumor about violence toward a female. 

"I am quite aware of that, Mr. Tawse," Kit said as politely as she could manage (how effective it look whilst holding such a large and sharp weapon was questionable). She refrained from adding a list of her previous martial training and her belt level in jujitsu, both because she doubted he would even know what that muggle system was and because ladies did not boast so.

"Of course it is best to follow through as if your target was actually behind where he or she really is for greatest effectiveness, but as I am mostly used to my own hands or smaller bladed instruments I wanted to be sure in my handling before I started violently swinging."

Okay, she couldn't completely refrain. But really, who instructed Kit Branwell on handling weapons that hadn't been studying longer than Kit had been alive? Conceit. Another unladylike characteristic that she certainly did not possess. Of course not.

"You sound like you've had some experience," Kit continued, getting back on that nice lady-like politeness.

Kit's politeness and supposed innocence was sickening. He had never understood her and always thought of her as one of those crazy girls that thought more about being proper than being a teenager. There were certain things teenager girls were supposed to do, like giggle and talk about boys and certain things that just made them seem fake or out of place, like calling him Mr. Tawse. It wasn't like he was about to call her Ms. Branwell. The only time he used last names with a girl was when he hated them like Blake or Collins.

He kept to his side of the room with his cold blue grey eyes on the weapon and his arms crossed over his chest, "Me Granda is a collector, anythin from fifteenth century renaissance ta modern muggle weapons. He taught me a few thins here an' there but I prefer boxin' meself." He glanced down at his currently bloodied bandages. The blood had browned and the wraps themselves were different from those that he wore when actually boxing.

He unfolded his arms and took a few steps forward, "So how does a proper lady like yerself end up being able ta wield a halberd?" He was still rather mystified by the concept. As much as he thought she was a stupid prissy girl that was completely fake with her overtly innocent manners he was still impressed by her ability to wield such a weapon.

Kit kept her eyes on Tawse. She wasn't entirely trusting around Slytherins in general, though at the moment she was more curious about if he really did know anything about weaponry. And that was when she noticed his banged hands. He looked like he had gotten into quite the scuffle, though it wouldn't be polite to point it out unless he mentioned it first.

Me Granda is a collector, anythin from fifteenth century renaissance ta modern muggle weapons. He taught me a few thins here an' there but I prefer boxin' meself

Know he really did have Kit's undivided attention.

"Really know?" Kit said with a slight smile. "Your grandfather sounds like an interesting man. And formidable. Did he teach you boxing as well?"

A grandfather that collected and (by the sounds of it) actively practiced with a variety of weapons, even muggle ones. Perhaps this was another key example of why she shouldn't just assume all Slytherins were pureblood muggle-haters. She might just owe Mr. Tawse an apology.

So how does a proper lady like yerself end up being able ta wield a halberd?

"You make it sounds like proper ladies can't know self-defense," Kit said, still with a little smile. "I confess to have a fascination with medieval weaponry, and since there's not much of a competitive forum for it, I mainly focus on practice fencing and martial arts- jujitsu mostly, nothing quite like boxing."

She was tiny and delicate-looking, she would admit it, and a direct hit by a trained boxer would probably no go over well. Hence learning how to not get hit or redirect attacks.

"The halberd, though, I haven't actually wielded one before," Kit confessed. "I've handled spears at Muggle Renaissance Faires and I thought I could try this since they're similar."

Xavier uncrossed his arms and moved closer to the girl feeling it was safe enough. He didn't think she was about to take a swing at him if he got too close, and well if she did he could always knock her out. He already had a horrible reputation from back handed Maddie during the Halloween dance, what's one more girl in self defense?

He nodded in general about Grandad Wentworth. He was probably the only good thing to come from that blood line. He knew that muggles had their place in society and that was far away from wizards but he didn't seem to hate them or at least their inventions. Xavier himself admitted that muggle pistols were absolutely fascinating if not a little confounding. He had no idea how they made those little bullet things shoot out but he did know he was a great shot with one, "Me Da's Da'. He taught me ta box an' a few otha thin's when I was younger. He's thee only person on me Da's side I still associate wit." Anna, Athilia and even Great Aunt Sophia had no idea that even after his father left Xavier had been spending time whenever possible with his grandfather. It made him wonder whether Henry Sr. knew about his father's infidelity and was trying to raise Xavier through a sense of guilt for his father leaving him.

He shrugged his shoulders his expression still rather stoney, "I don' think it's impropa fer a lady ta learn self defense, I jus neva expected ye to. Ye always seemed like thee kind tha' would prefer a wand ova a sword." He moved closer in and tentatively attempted to adjust her grip on the Halberd, "Ye wanna spread yer hand jus a lil more or ye'll loose yer grip." He said it softly enough looking at her hands rather than her face. He knew he was imposing but since she had already said she wasn't used to the weapon he supposed it wouldn't be too insulting to her.

"Thee halberd has a bit more heft ta it, I'm sure ye cin tell, a tighter wider grip is often needed ta compensate." He looked her over again and let a small smirk curve his other wise expressionless mouth, "I always thought ye were a pureblood, though I don see yer parents takin ye to a Muggle Faire if ye were."

Kit didn't move as Tawse closed the distance. Why would she? They were just two students having a casual conversation about medieval weaponry and hand-to-hand combat methods. Talking shop as it were.

She listened as he talked about his family, hinting about some inter-family strife. And a lack of contact with his father. "I see," Kit said, not entirely sure how she was supposed to respond to that revelation. Since she didn't really no Tawse all that well, she thought it might be overstepping her bounds to pry to deeply into an absence of a father, if that was really what he was suggesting. "Does he still instruct you? I'd imagine he'd be quite fit for his age."

A boxing grandfather? Now that would be something to see. Of course, one of Kit's secret ambitions was when she got to a grandmother-y age to be still fully capable of taking down young 20-something upstarts. That and correcting posture. Senior citizens seemed to have that lovely luxury of eccentricity and instruction.

The conversation turned away from family elders and Kit was pleased to hear Tawse was not against ladies learning self defense. He was just surprised she had. Which frankly, surprised Kit. She didn't see how she would give someone that impression. Odd.

"Well in some respects I do prefer a wand- it is a very powerful and useful weapon with a lot of variation and uses," Kit said. "But it always seemed to me that the best and quickest way to defeat another wizard was to disarm them. Not a lot of wizards know how to fight- properly fight that is- without a wand. And even less people muggle and wizard can fight with their bare hands and feet. It just seemed to me that someone who really wanted to be a great duelist should know how to use anything available."

When she would ever need to know how to wield a halberd was a little bit questionable. But- if the situation ever called for it, on the slim chance she would need to know, she would be able to answer the call.

Even better now that Tawse was helping her grip. Kit allowed him to alter the position of her hands on the weapon, since he seemed more knowledgeable then her and who was she to deny potential instruction, no matter where it came from?

She was also suddenly glad that Tawse was looking at her hands and not her face because she suddenly felt a rush of warmth that was not from an inefficient heat flow design in the castle's blueprints. Most of her instructors were older than her by at least a decade and encountered in an official classroom setting. Anyone she encountered her own age, Kit would help with, certainly not the other way around. But dear heavens girl, get a grip. And not just on the weapon.

Kit managed to compose herself (she hoped) before he looked back up. "Yes, I was noticing the difference,"  she said. "Forgive me if I'm too forward, but your hands...have you been practicing boxing recently?"

Well since they were right there moving her hands, she felt it was a legitimate and fair question. Professionalism. Thy name was Kit Branwell. Whose pulse had been increased by weapon handling long before Xavier Tawse's entrance, thank you very much.

When he brought up her heritage, however, Kit didn't really feel inclined to smile or smirk back. She did have hopes, considering his story about his grandfather and apparent close relations, but even so....

"My parents are witch and wizard, but my father is Muggle-Born," Kit said politely, waiting to gauge his reaction.

"Granda is ratha fit fer his age, but then when ye run dozens o' menageries cross thee UK it comes wit thee territory. Can' work wit exotic even mundane magical creatures witout gettin' a bit o' muscle to ye." Thinking of how strong his Grandfather was and how dedicated he was to his work made Xavier wonder if he would have ever gotten into the family business if his father had stuck around. He also wondered if his Grandad had ever met Peyton and given his other grandson the same kind of instruction Xavier had received, "I don' git ta see 'im as much as I'd like ta these days. Most o' me holidays are spent wit me Mam's family." He purposely left out just who that entailed. He wasn't sure what kind of wizarding world connections Kit had but he didn't want to run the risk of repeating his fight with Madeline over the criminal tendencies of his family.

Xavier nodded, "I commend thee effort. Not enuff wizards think tha way. They think magic's all they eva need, neva thinkin' wha would happen if tha was taken away." With her hands in a better position Xavier backed away and stalked off to one of the other suits of that was carrying a medieval styled polearm. He lifted the weapon from the armour's clenched hand and with one fluid motion spun around, twirling the weapon and executing a few thrusts and parries as if he were fighting an invisible opponent.

"Umm well I had bin boxin'." He twirled the 29 inch wood and iron weapon again, "but I wasn' wearin any wraps. Nearly broke me hands." Xavier had initially been taught how to box as a way to release all the anger he had pent up over his father leaving. It had helped in the beginning but now he just used it as an excuse to hurt himself whenever he got angry.

"Fair enough." He said simply in regards to her parentage. Despite what most thought of him Xavier wasn't a true purist. He didn't hate someone for who their parents decided to marry. At least both of her parents were magical even if her grandparents were. The only people he felt uneasy around were muggle borns. He just didn't understand them, how or why they were born.

Turning back to Kit he held his weapon at his side, "So ye eva do any duelin witout a wand?"

The more Tawse...Xavier...talked about his grandfather, the more interesting he seemed to become. Kit confessed to be quite fascinated. A studier of magical creatures and muggle weaponry. She wondered if he had experimented with jousting and how to bring it into a magical forum. And if he had some tips for mixing muggle and wizard dueling. She thought she was making headway, but the input from an oder more experience wizard would be appriciated. However, considering she wasn't all to famuliar with Xavier, it would be a little forward of her to ask. If that relationship changed in the future, however....

The increase in pulse and heartrate was soooo completely due to the exertion she'd already been putting into the weapon she held. It had absolutely nothing to do with a continuation of her last thought coinciding with Xavier's compliment.

Even if she was kind of a little sad Xavier moved his hands. It was for...how helpful he had been. Really. Oh dear heavens girl, pull it together. 

"My thoughts exactly," Kit said, watching him pick up the polearm, "Being too confident in a single weapon or mode of attack can be just as dangerous as being unarmed."

But then she got to watch him swing the weapon and found herself very, very impressed. And studying his technique. He defiantly had learned a thing or two from his grandfather. And he must have been practicing on his own time. Along with boxing without protective wraps.

She was almost a pleased with his response to her heritage as the polearm handling. Kit smiled at his next question.  Kit shifted her feet and did a few quick thrusts of the weapon before answering the Slytherin.

"Whenever the opportunity presents itself," she said. "Though sadly most of my opponents of late have been stuffed or hollow."

A rare sparkle ran across his cold grey blue eyes. He had been having a horrible time over the past month. He had been neglecting his friends, his girlfriend (if he couldn't even still call Bella that) his studies, his Professors and his food. He had been falling apart at the seams and had no idea how to put himself back together and no one seemed willing to help, or at least not that he'd noticed. However being alone with Kit was refreshing, talking about weapons and fighting, all those horrible depressing thoughts were washed away and he was happy to stay in that moment, at least for the time being. He doubted that the small amount of happiness and contentment he was feeling right now was going to continue on once he left the Gryffindor behind.

He turned towards her and bowed rather formally with his weapon in hand, "Well then Ms. Branwell, consider the opportunity presenting itself." He gave her a rare and soft smile his own eyes sparkling again.

He had no idea how the prim and proper Gryffindor would react. He hoped she'd throw herself into it and impress him as much as she already had. It had been a long time since he had dueled with anyone. He had passed on joining the duelling club at school due to the fact that they only focused on duelling with wands. He missed the days when he could go to his father's ancestral home and duke it out with his grandfather or one of his cousins. He had cut out most of his father's family when Henry disappeared and even more after Cinaed had been released from Azkaban.

Kit was glad Xavier had gotten Kit's hint about dueling here and now with the weapons on hand. Although, she wasn't sure how much more forward she could get short of attacking him outright as a response. Which of course, would have not been proper. Etiquette dictated one waited for a mutually accepted duel invitation before one tried to behead someone.

It was situations like these that were prime example of Kit's fashion choice: skirts  wide enough to allow a full range of motion and opaque tights for..well obvious reasons, really. Just because her mother's side was Scottish didn't mean she had to follow all of their traditions.

She smiled at Xavier, adjusting her stance and grip.

"How polite of you, allowing the lady to go first," she said. It was her way of saying 'bring it on.'

A heartbeat later, Kit was sprinting  straight at the Slytherin, angling herself for a powerful downward thrust.

Xavier's eyes sparkled as Kit accepted his invitation for a duel. Perhaps throwing himself into it would keep his mind off things. Like how much he hated his father, how much he wanted to pummel Peyton but couldn't bring himself to do it, and how much he longed to hold Bella but didn't know how to apologize for being such an idiot and ignoring her lately. He didn't think it would be long before the blue haired Slytherin broke up with him.

With his legs spread evenly apart he held the polearm parallel to the stone floor catching Kit's downward strike. She was good. He had expected as much but it still caught him slightly off guard. He needed to focus and step up his game if he was going to come out the victor in this little practice.

He lifted the polearm and pushed her back a bit to give himself an opening. With a step forward her swung low right about waist height. In real combat it wouldn't have been an ideal strike. It could cause a fair amount of damage but nothing fatal. The main purpose of it was to throw her off, to catch her when she wasn't expecting it. Surely she'd expect him to attack higher up, or even lower down to cut her down. In a split second as his axe headed toward her hip line he chided himself for not using a spell to dull the blade. It wouldn't really do him well if he ended up actually hurting her.

A duel. A real duel, sans-wands. Despite her almost religious zeal toward practicing her martial arts, Kit's legitimate dueling interactions have been scare. To be perfectly honest, she was worried she would not be able to advance to her second-degree brown belt when she tested for it the coming summer.

Perhaps if this initial duel went well she and Xavier could spar regularly, or at least repeatedly. While some of the Slytherin's housemates were certainly...aggressive, she doubted few of said aggressors had any sort of marital discipline. Or any discipline.

So she eagerly went into her first attack. She honestly wasn't surprised that it didn't hit. She didn't expect it too. She wanted to test Xavier. Get a feel for how he fought. How he moved. His reflexes. His strength.

Considerable, she decided when she got pushed back. She didn't try to stop herself, but concentrated on maintaining her balance and keeping her eyes on Xavier. He was much stronger than her, that much was apparent. If she was going to win, she had to be creative. She had to compensate for her lack of brute strength. She had to block Xavier's quick attack.

Kit pivoted, standing her weapon straight up and planting it on the ground, bringing the shaft between herself and the poleaxe. She followed through her steps, using the momentum and to lift herself up in the air, pressing down on the halberd and swinging around, aiming a kick at Xavier's head.

With his strength having been put into the swing to her hip his body was still following through by the time she launched herself up to kick at his head. Thrown off by the sudden movement her foot connected directly with the side of his face causing stars to burst behind his eyes and his body to fall to the floor.

However he was not out just yet.

Rolling to his back he raised his weapon and waited until she had both feet planted on the floor again. He had to admit that was a good move and he'd likely have a good red mark on his cheek from where her foot had connected. Thank Salazar she wasn't one of those girls that wore those ridiculous high heels. One of those spikey death traps to the face and Xavier could have lost an eye.

Once she was firmly planted on the ground again he swung his lips lashing out with his leg to try and trip her. From there he'd be able to get the upper hand, get to his feet while she was still trying to recover from falling. Although that all depended on whether his sweep to her feet actually caught her off guard and she didn't manage to defend herself from such an attack.

Kit couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction when her foot connected to Xavier's face. First blow went to her. Of course the last blow was the one that ultimately mattered, there as nothing wrong with a little self-satisfaction.

Of course the downside of her unorthodox attack was that she ended up very unsteady on her feet and she wasn't fast enough to regain her balance completely to defend or counter attack as effectively as she thought she should. In short- she was open. Not a good place to be.

Xavier was a smart opponent. He must have seen her opening and taken advantage of it, because sure enough his leg came out, catching her feet and sending her to the floor. Instead of trying to stop her fall, she used the momentum to send her into a crouch, dropping her weapon (another risky, possibly suicidal move if she wasn't surrounded by armed suits of armour) and tumbling away from Xavier. She regained her feet quickly, grabbed a spear from a nearby suit and spun back to face Xavier, now several feet away.

"You're very good," she said, breathing heavily between words. Her hair was no doubt mussed from her roll and she was itching to check her clothing for stains, but she couldn't deny she was having the most fun sparring that she had had in a long time.