#dypw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXxTRnxmY-c

Robin doesn't bother turning his head at the sound of footsteps behind him. He cracks a wide smile, knowing who's behind him, although her footsteps sound very different.

“Hurry up, you cock!” Lee barks, her voice shaky. Robin laughs, pushing himself to stand up, dusting himself off. His smile softens some, as does his entire face, shoulders slumping with a long sigh.

His eyes rest on his best friend, all dressed up. Her face clear of piercings, her normally ruffly brown hair smoothed into a long, high ponytail, just for the moment. Her lips look just a little shinier and redder, with the edges of her eyes darker with makeup.

Covering her body is a crisp, white dress, conforming to her body and fanning out with lace at the bottom. Her dark, freckled shoulders are exposed, with bands coming from the sides of the dress to loop loosely around her arms and give more movement. A keyhole opening for her chest, of course, with the rest moving up her neck and collarbones.

“You look beautiful.” Robin says, almost breathlessly.

“Whatever.”

“That's not how you accept compliments.”

“How then?” Lee asks honestly, her voice cracking a little. She does seem desperate, in a sense; she wants the wedding day to be perfect, and it's only a few months away. Robin smiles again.

“Compliment me, say I look good.”

Lee frowns, looking him up and down before quizzically into his eyes. “You're just wearing your guard captain uniform like always.”

“I think it looks quite good on me!”

Lee groans and rolls her eyes. “The gold shoulder-plates look really great with your hair.”

“Thank you. The color of your dress makes your eyes look brighter. See, that's how you do it. Accept it, counter it.” Robin explains, as if it's obvious. The captain before him lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“Right. Okay. Got it.” Lee says slowly. “Now what?”

“Now we dance.”

Lee's head snaps up to make eye contact with Robin, taking a step back and pointing a finger at him. “No! No, no no, no no no no! No!”

Robin laughs and rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers to make the lights dim just enough to make shadows around their light. “You want it to be perfect, don't you?”

Lee frowns, smoothing her dress out. “Yes.” she avoids eye contact with him.

Robin puts his hand out to her. “Then dance.”

Lee hesitates, rubbing her arm, looking honestly shy. She looks down to her feet and then back to her friend's hand, slowly reaching out to take it, gingerly placing her hand over his. “A-Alright.” she stammers.

Robin smiles gently, pulling her over to him until her chest bumps against his. He moves her arm out a little, clasping her hand in his, moving his other hand onto her back to pull her close until there's no air between them.

“There. Step one.”

“This is very uncomfortable.”

“Really?”

“I mean, it's just...” Lee sighs a little, her eyes darting off to the side. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

Robin squeezes her hand. “That's alright, I'm here to teach you, aren't I?”

Lee looks back to him slowly, their bodies so close their noses almost touch. Robin's smile is gentle but wide, warm and encouraging, enough to get her to crack just the tiniest smile. “Yeah.” she says with a deep exhale.

Robin takes one step to the side, keeping his hand flat on her back to keep her body pressed against his. She looks uncertain, but moves her feet to follow his, accidentally stepping on his foot from their closeness.

“Sorry.”

“That's fine. Just watch it next time, it'll hurt a lot more with someone who has open toed shoes.”

“How do you know what type of shoes she's going to wear?”

“I'm just planning ahead.” Robin laughs, squeezing her hand. Lee still looks uncertain, but she lets out a few giggles with him, sliding her feet off his. “Let's try again.”

He sidesteps. Lee sidesteps.

“Good!” Robin says encouragingly. Lee squeezes his hand.

“Next step.” she says confidently.

Robin just shrugs, sidestepping, his grip suddenly firming on her hand. She gives him a very brief look of confusion before he steps away from her, raising his arm up and using his grip on her hand to make her turn. On instinct she does, mostly on her toes, finally stopping once facing him again.

“Oh! I know that one!” she says quickly, but still looks somewhat bewildered.

“Yeah, everyone does.” Robin smiles and pulls on her arm to tug her back, hugging his arm around her back. “That's the flashiest bit. Think you can get it down pretty quick?”

“Hell yeah I can!” Lee says with a more relaxed smile. “Dazzle me, star boy. Next step.”

“This isn't the time for a challenge, captain.” Robin chuckles.

“Always challenge time.”

“Right, right.” Robin smiles, pulling her closer.

“Hey, Robin?” Lee asks, her voice slightly soft.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

i didnt have time to edit this EEWWWWWWW  W W WW

“How many of you have seen pirates fighting?” I put my hand up next to me to stop any voices or movement. “Don't actually answer.”

I take my sword out of it's sheath, jostling it in my hand a little. “Pirates have a very fluid style of fighting, their entire body goes into it and they keep their joints loose. It's very relaxed.” I let my shoulder relax and my arm bend just a little at the elbow, turning my wrist towards the sky and holding the sword forward in that position. “But while it's relaxed, it can also be very fast and very precise; and instead of putting their whole body into the small, precise movements, it's all in the wrist or the arm, tiny trigger muscles.”

“And for defense,” I continue, straightening my arm until the blade of the sword is adjacent to my arm and my shoulders to make one long, pointed line. “traditional guard fighting is very stiff. This style ensures that you keep your shoulders straight and your chest stiff, your body locked and still, only to move your arm while you fight, whereas pirates put their whole body into every movement.”

“While both styles are good,” I let my arm drop into a more relaxed position, “pirates cannot be guards, and guards cannot be pirates. And in this day and age the traditional Lancaster guard fighting style is becoming harder and harder to compensate with; it's pure defense, no offense at all. Pirates are mostly offense, but they combine it with defense; the defensive measures they take are offensive measures if executed correctly.”

“Are we going to fight today or not?” one of the guards groans from the line, the others turning to shoot a small glare at him. I find myself frowning, although I actually want to smile at the opportunity I was given.

“Sure,” I say, with just a hint of venom in my tone, spinning my sword in my hand. “I've already taught you some fighting techniques, come test them out on me, won't you? What's your name again?”

“Jack,” the guard says proudly, taking his sword from his sheathe and walking to me.

“Come at me first, Jack.” I say smugly, not bothering to get in a position as he does. He gets into a familiar position, straight back, straight legs, turning his body into a straight line with his arm pointed out at the shoulder. I admire it only for a moment, proud of myself for teaching them the 'correct' position well enough.

He slashes his sword in a downward motion towards me, but I swing my sword around quickly enough to block it away. I don't move to push his sword forward, as someone fighting in typical pirate style would, I only let it clash against mine and let Jack push on it. My entire shoulder moved with moving my sword, and in the moment I felt the energy of the other guards shift.

I suddenly step to the side, and the pressure Jack puts on my sword makes him stumble forward and almost fall. I flip my sword in my hands and toss it just enough for it to slip into the sheathe on it's own, grabbing onto Jack's waist while he regains his footing, suplexing him back over my head and then quickly standing up again.

I dust myself off and fix the sword in my sheathe, turning to the lineup of guards, who all have a surprised look on their faces. I clear my throat with a small smile. “As I was saying, pirates have a fluid and offensive style of fighting, and Lancaster guards have a stiff, defensive style of fighting. While sparring with Jack, I combined the two; I put my entire body into the movement of bringing my sword up to my chest, which made the movement less heavy on my arm. I didn't tense any muscles but my pectorals for the movement and my biceps and shoulders to hold it in place, it's less tense. Instead of pushing against his sword during the block like a pirate would do, because it's offense, I did the guard thing and held it steady, letting Jack push against me. I stepped to the side to let Jack fall forward on his own weight, which is another pirate move. I could have broken his neck with the last move and the fight would be over. And in a real battle, every move I just made would have been so quick it's as if Jack stepped forward and tripped onto his own back.”

Jack stands up and groans, scrambling back to his spot with a bright red face.

“Does anyone else wish to interrupt me while I'm teaching, or have we seen enough?”

All the guards quickly shake their heads, suddenly seeming more alert and interested in what I have to say. They seem more excited to learn how to really fight instead of stand there like a board next to doorways 24/7; even though that's mostly what they'll do.

“Who taught you this, sir?” one of the guards asks, excitement in her eyes to hear the answer.

“A good friend of mine, James Morgan,”

“Morgan?”

“Yes, Morgan, the Morgan pirate family line. How do you think I know all of this in such great detail, watching? I was taught.”

“You're friends with James Morgan, sir?”

Will lets out an audible scoff and chuckle from the end of the line. I quickly glare at him, trying not to let a blush rise to my cheeks.

“Yes, I am, but that's not important. I created the new fighting style with mine and his in mind, and at some point during your training and orientation James will join us and teach you a little bit more on offense...with my supervision.”

“I want to meet him!”

“Hell yeah!”

“I can't believe you're friends with James Morgan...”

I roll my eyes and stay still, waiting for the talking to calm in the line until I snap my fingers. “Enough with that, you lot,” I say loudly, and the students all quiet down instantly. “Find sparring partners and fight without either style influencing you, just have fun and do what you want. The best part of the joint fighting style is it leaves a lot of room for improvisation and originality, seeing as there's no book to follow for it.”

The students break off into individual sparring partners, picking friends they had made, some even grouping into groups of 3. I keep careful watch of who fights with who, just so I can separate them when I pick teams later so they don't grow too accustomed to each other's style.

Will doesn't choose anyone and only comes up to my side. “Friends, huh?”

“If you make a crack like that during a training session, I'll have you fired and I'll send insurgents to jump you once you leave property.”

Will laughs and rolls his eyes. “Alright, whatever.”

“Don't say whatever. It's not proper.”

The bridge is tiny, made out of rough, grey stone. It's a very short walk across, with the gap down to the river being much, much longer. The walk to get to it is even longer; the path has been reduced to breadcrumbs and it's a couple hours deep into the woods from the mansion.

The entire bridge is made of stone, with the small rails on either side coming up in hourglass shapes, topped with the final bar of decorated, earthy stone. Moss and weather had worn down the chiseled date of the bridge itself, but it was obvious it was made when the first homeowners moved on to the cove. Nature had almost completely claimed it; vines hung down from the assortment of trees surrounding the area, moss grew on everything and the stone looked as if it was melting into black tar near the bottom.

Dropping from the bridge to the roaring river under it seemed daunting; you could survive, if you were a good swimmer, but it was no easy task to even walk to the edge. The river was always active, always lively, rushing with stark white foam and smooth river stones showing through the calmer parts of the water. The end of a rope hung from one of the rails on the bridge; the remnants of a rope swing, and hopefully not something like a noose. Most likely the former, seeing as a family lived here.

I thought I was the only one who knew about it, too. I had been making many trips down to this little remote bridge to calm down and collect my thoughts, and it was almost becoming a nightly routine. I was surprised to find someone else sitting on the edge I usually do.

Nonetheless, I clear off moss next to her and swing my legs over the edge. Now all that keeps me from slipping would be my hands rooted on the stone. “What are you doing out here?”

Lee lets her head hang back, taking a deep breath. “What are you doing out here?”

“I'm always here.”

“Why, snowflake?”

“I like it here.”

“Maybe I like it too. Don't have to have a motive to enjoy the scenery.”

“It's 3 AM,” I remark, glancing up to the stars through the thick, green canopy of tree leaves. Lee laughs hoarsely and looks back down to the water, a fair drop below us, swinging her legs slowly.

“I just have things to think about.” she says, almost forlornly. I don't think I've ever heard her voice this...quiet. She's always yelling or laughing or there's an edge to her tone, but it's flat, but deep. Soft, even.

I exhale softly and lean back on the balls of my palms. “Yeah, me too.”

“What's your excuse?”

“Just...a lot of people died because of something I did.”

“Welcome to the club,” Lee looks down to the water, her long hair falling over her shoulders and shielding her face from my gaze. The moon shines brightly through the leaves, casting long shafts of pale light down onto us; but despite the fair lighting, even her hair looks dull.

The captain raises her head again, her eyes looking tired and drained of color. Normally they're clear and radiant, but it looks like someone smudged the vibrant color of her irises into a muddy, dark brown.

“You know,” I say, trying to keep my tone from dropping too much. “I always sit on the edge like this.”

“What, does it make you feel special?” it's obvious she isn't amused with my choice of conversation, but I don't let it get to me.

“It's kind of comforting, I guess.” I shrug one shoulder. “It would be pretty devastating to fall from this height without being prepared.”

“I guess,” she sighs. “why is that comforting?”

“Because if I really, really wanted to, I could just fall. That easy. But every time I come here and dangle my legs off the edge, I end up going home in one piece. And then I know I don't actually want to.”

“You're an idiot.”

“But it works, and it makes me feel good.”

Lee moves one of her hands off the edge, leaning down to pull both of her shoes off and toss them onto the stone base behind us. She then strips herself of her jacket and unbuttons her shirt, until she's down to her light, baggy pants and her tightened undershirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, furrowing my brow slightly.

“I'm gonna drop, are you gonna come or not?” she says casually, pulling a strip of vine down from above us and using it to tie her hair up.

“Are you kidding me? You could die.”

“Or I couldn't, and I could have a very good time splashing around in water that hasn't been touched in centuries.” Lee shoots me a smile, settling on the stone railing. “So?”

I look back down to the water; rushing fast, foam coming up on the sandy edges of it, rocks big enough to poke out of the white bubbles. Even if we did survive the fall, there's a good chance we'd be swept up in the current and drown then.

Without giving it a second thought, I carefully move my hands off the edge, pulling my shoes, jacket and shirt off and tossing them back with Lee's. I hesitate before pulling my robotic arm off; if I don't die from the rapids, I'd die from electrical shock. “I'm gonna get you if we die doing this.”

Lee smiles more and fixes her hair some. “And I'll let you, if we do. You ready?”

I can't help myself smiling, stretching wide on my face. The day before had been bad. A new responsibility, a big one at that, and it was tearing up my nonexistent 'friendship' with James, and probably some with Rose too. Falling off a bridge into rushing water didn't sound like the worst thing that could happen.

“Hey, if this works, do you wanna restore the rope swing?”

“What, tonight?”

“Plenty of vines, plenty of time!”

My smile shakes a little, nerves starting to get the best of me, so I move my hand to grab onto hers on the rail. “Yeah, we should do that. You ready?”

“Oh I'm ready.”

We both close our eyes and hold our breath at the same time. Her grip on my hand turns and tightens, as we move both of our hands off the rail and push off just slightly with our feet.

It's air for a long time, as her hand rips from mine. My eyes open as soon as I hit the water, and I'm stunned still for a few seconds just from how cold it is. The shock subsides relatively soon, enough for me to pull my head out of the water and grab onto one of the protruding rocks in the rapids. Once the water clears from my eyes, Lee grabs my wrist and pulls me up onto one of the sandy shores of the river.

“It worked, you bastard!” she laughs, her clothes soaked and sticking to her body, her hair a wet, matted mess, and I know I would look the same if I wore a shirt.

“I-It did! We made it! Y-You good?”

“Am I good?! I'm great! This is great!”

I smile some, standing up and shaking my head to rid some of the water from my hair, making her laugh. “Don't spray that shit on me, boy.”

“I'm gonna!” I bark teasingly, running my hand through my hair. “But hey, since we survived, you owe me a brand new rope swing.”

“Oh yeah!” she snaps her fingers, bouncing on her bare feet in the sand. “Rope swing rope swing rope swing!”

“Go get one of the vines, I'll climb back up to the bridge, we'll build it together and use it until the sun comes up and people start getting worried.” I can't help but smile even more, watching all the color and life return to her skin. She pumps her fists up in the air for a brief moment, diving back into the river to get to the other side and reach one of the low hanging, tough vines.

I watch her move, letting out a few heavy pants. She wasn't so bad. We never got time to talk or get to know each other; she was never nice or mean to me. Lee seemed fun.

We could definitely be friends. Maybe we'd make this a routine; this bridge would just be our little spot. And when we both feel drained and tired we'd come to this place, hang on a vine and drop into dangerous, rushing rapids.