LtCmdr. Talos Dakora - Beatings From Home
Travis
((Gymnasium, Deck 4 - USS Artemis-A))
Talos had been pleasantly surprised when he’d received the invite from The Artemis’ Chief Physician. He had no idea that Genkos was a practitioner of the uniquely Betazoid martial art, but then again, the man was full of surprises.
He still remembered the first time he’d produced a collapsible sword from his prosthetic leg. That had certainly been unexpected.
As Talos stepped through the doors to the Artemis’ gym, he saw that Genkos had already done the work of preparing their arena in the large open flex space. It was a long, thin runway of a mat, with padding placed strategically alongside.
Before he could scrutinize the arena further, his attention was drawn to an unusual sight. Genkos, folded in half like a taco, stared up at him from between his own legs. The teal fabric of his form-fitting body suit strained tightly across the Doctor’s rump, leaving little to Talos’ imagination.
Adea: Aha! Talos, good to see you.
Talos replied as he set his gym bag next to the bench and untied the robe-like tunic that covered his own skin-tight black leotard before draping it over the bag.
Dakora: You too. ::He gestured toward the stretching doctor.:: Excellent mobility by the way.
He smirked as Genkos unfolded himself and took a sip from his drink. Producing a water bottle and a towel from his bag, he set them on the bench as well.
Adea: When was the last time you played a bout of tassa’akai?
It had been years since Talos had held an akai in a real match. Not since his final year in the Academy. Hells. Had it really been that long?
He had loved it at the time —feeling his opponent’s intent ripple through his mind just moments before the strike came, the satisfying crack of the Akai clashing, the focused silence that followed each parry. There was an intimacy to it, an honesty. No bluffing. No posturing. Just awareness, movement, and thought all wrapped into one fluid motion.
Talos had missed it.
Dakora: It’s been a while. ::He shrugged.:: Not since the last time Lieutenant Prala wiped the floor with me back in the Academy. I limped into my Tactical Final the next morning feeling like a cargo sled had run me over.
Adea: Response
He nodded as he began to shake out his muscles and do a little stretching of his own.
Dakora: Yeah, I might be a little rusty. ::He smirked.:: But it’s not every day that someone offers to beat me with a stick in the name of tradition. I couldn’t refuse.
Adea: Response
Finishing his stretches, Talos unclipped his akai from his belt, extending the baton with a satisfying snap and giving it an experimental twirl. The weight felt familiar, like an old melody remembered in muscle and reflex. These days, he seemed to spend more time behind a desk than running drills or training. It was a nice change of pace.
With a nod to Genkos, Talos stepped barefoot onto the mat and moved to his end of the narrow arena. He stretched his shoulders, rolled his neck, and exhaled slowly, letting the ambient buzz of the ship fade until only the stillness between thoughts remained.
Dakora: Ready when you are.
Adea: Response
Talos dropped into the starting stance— knees bent slightly, akai held loosely at the ready, mind wide open.
He inhaled slowly through his nose, his gaze locked on the wiry doctor. Reaching out, his consciousness brushed against Genkos’ coming away with an impression like a song heard from the apartment next door. There was a rhythm —an intent— but the details weren’t quite clear.
Talos’ grip tightened on his Akai as he surged forward.
Closing the gap between them in a few quick steps, he feinted right before attempting a standard hip strike to the left.
The metallic thwack of Genkos’ parry told him it hadn’t landed. He pushed back against the pressure, backing off a few paces to regroup.
Dakora: ~Thought I had you for sure. ::He beckoned him forward with his off hand.:: Let’s see what you’ve got.~
Adea: Response
LtCmdr. Talos Dakora
USS Artemis-A
O238811CD0