Lay of the Land (Open)

[Yuzuki Isawa]

A gal… Another first. Yuzuki was used to being referred to as a drunkard, a fool, or some address bearing a diminutive connotation to the female gender. The word was unfamiliar, and, combined with her fellow fighter’s unique accent, further cemented her suspicion that the other was a foreigner. And, given the fact that she recognized neither the accent nor the style of clothing, Dusty wasn’t from a nearby land either. That thought brought a slim amount of approval from the samurai, a sense of comradeship perhaps. Two travelers in a faraway land...

“I call it Drunk Fu.” She finally replied after a moment of deliberation. Perhaps it was the sense of identification, or perhaps alcohol had loosened her tongue, but for once, she actually didn’t brush off the question. “I suppose you could say I invented the style.” She added nonchalantly, violet eyes unblinking.

[Dusty Dawson]

"Oh?" Dusty said, genuinely surprised. Not only was it a strange and unique style...but one that the stranger had invented on her own? Now that sure was something else. And to be so frank about it, as well. The other woman was a very odd, yet intriguing, person. Of course, she had been meeting quite a number of interesting people in her travels.

"Wow, ain't ever met someone who invented their own style o' fightin' before!" she said, "You must be some serious type o' fighter! So...wait...that mean you actually gotta be drunk to do it?"

Dusty was growing more and more curious. She simply had to know everything about this strange method of fighting. Sure, she knew how to handle herself...after all, she had the training. But, it was a simplistic military style. There was not much finesse to her fighting, it was all practical. Protect yourself and make sure you hurt the other guy first. At least that's how she had always boiled it down.

[Yuzuki Isawa]

Yuzuki remained silent at Dusty's exclamation, shrugging off what she supposed to be a compliment. After all, she had done nothing spectacular. Drunk Fu was merely a hodge podge of styles, all focusing on extreme unpredictability. It was not the flashiest of martial arts, nor the strongest...but nonetheless, she supposed she took some pride in the style.

Her usual, faint smile curved up a notch at the ensuing question, the naivety of which a reflection of Dusty's straightforward candidness. It was refreshing to meet such a pure soul, somehow untainted by the greed and evils of the world.

"No," she replied simply, pausing. "The central tenet of Drunk Fu depends on being drunk in form but not in spirit. Being actually inebriated helps achieve the form, which, once mastered, requires neither inebriation nor active thought. It becomes a form of...reflex." The long-winded explanation left her aching for another drink. That was waaay too many words in a day, but her style deserved a no lesser introduction. And there was a certain friendliness about Dusty, an untapped country charm. It beckons all about to trust the red-head, and, in her case, to speak more than she cares to.

[Dusty Dawson]

"Huh..." it was a simple statement. Perhaps a little too simple, given the other's generosity in sharing the finer points of her fighting style.

"You'll have ta show me some more o' that! Only slow down a bit...ain't gonna be able to follow all them moves at normal speed." she chuckled and scratched at the back of her red mane. "Well, I can't thank ya enough for tellin' me about it. Say...did I get 'round ta asking for your name?"

Dusty, having not known Yuzuki from before, was unaware of her usual speaking habits. However, given the quiet tone to her voice, it seemed as though it was one that had seen little use. For her part, the ex-soldier was simply glad to have met yet another foreigner who had such an interesting story. Her journey had truely been meeting all of her expectations.

[Yuzuki Isawa]

Judging from the redhead's confused expression, Yuzuki garnered that her description hardly resonated with Dusty. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Judging from the brawl earlier, Dusty shunned elaborate styles. Her stances and strikes had an elegant simplicity to it; there were no tricks or fancy moves, only speed and agility.

When her name was asked of, she hesitated. Was there any reason in giving out her name? Even to her occasional employers, she was nothing more than "swordsman," "warrior," or the likes. Then again, her name wasn't often sought of. Most of her illicit employers, wishing for whatever deed committed to be forgotten, have no reason to ask her name.

"Yuzuki." She said finally. Then, after a short pause, she added, "Yours?" Then, remembering the previous question, she tried again at her explanation. "There are no set moves. Drunk Fu is about instincts and reflex, every move predicated by an opposing action. So, if you truly desire a demonstration, I would need you to attack me."

[Dusty Dawson]

"Name's Dusty! Dusty Dawson." She bobbed her head, after the introductions were passed. It was good to have a name that she could put with the face. Once more, she was shown how wrong her impression on the strange style was. Apparently, it was no simple task to master such an odd form. Like most things, it required practice.

"Ya don't say?" she laughed, "Well, you'll pardon me if I don't rush for a demonstration! At least not when I got a hat full of money on m'hands. This type o' neighborhood'll snag that right up the minute I put it down. Still, I might take ya up on that offer...a good friendly spar'd be nice, instead of another one o' them impromptu brawls."

She paused for a moment as she looked down at the very object she had mentioned, "Well, Yuzuki...what ya say we go find a friendlier establishment to spend this here money. If your gonna be kind enough to drop it in my hat, the least I can do is buy ya a round or two!"

[Yuzuki Isawa]

Dusty? She thought, throwing the redhead a curious look. That was hardly a feminine name, and, unless the name had some foreign meaning she was unaware of, her current companion hardly seem to be swept by wind and dust.

The mentioning of sparing surprised her. It was not quite what she meant when she explained her technique. Nonetheless, the idea of a challenge intrigued her. How long has it been since she last fought someone semi-competent? She shook away the thought. Sparring accomplishes nothing, she should not be sidetracked from her quest--

"Well, Yuzuki...what ya say we go find a friendlier establishment to spend this here money. If your gonna be kind enough to drop it in my hat, the least I can do is buy ya a round or two!"

Her ears perked up at the mentioning of drinks. If she had one weakness, alcohol is it. "I'll thank you in advance then." She said, content on following Dusty.

[Dusty Dawson]

"Well, alright then!" grinned the detective. While in such a "colorful" section of Venus, it seemed that drinking buddies were in short supply. At least when she was in the service, she had plenty of fellow soldiers to pal around with and drink a pint or ten.

"Let's see what we can find, 'round here..." as she trailed off, she led her fellow foreigner through the dirty streets of Night's Doorstep. Of course, Dusty had absolutely no idea where she was going. It was, after all, her first day in the city...and the first time she had come across a sizable population in quite some time.

It was an odd, zig-zagging pattern, as Dusty searched for a fine looking establishment. Not the easiest thing to find. But, she made the most of it. All the while, she would remark to her quiet companion about some of the more interesting landmarks that had remained in the section. An old building here, sketchy looking business there. It was all just very fascinating.

"Hey, what about this place?" she indicated a purveyor of drinks and "good times" dubbed the Bard and Balista.