09-01-2025, 09:51 PM
== Sveneja Timeline ==
Mara wandered towards the holodeck. The Security Chief had her own approach to workout gear. She shunned the tight-fitting clothes worn by most of the rest of the crew, going instead with baggy sweatpants, a hooded sweatshirt and high-top sneakers. Inevitably everything was black.
I’m sure that counsellor would tell me I’m self-repressin’ again. She can fuck off too. I can’t turn up to lift or train in a fuckin’ bikini or those stupid stretchy pants that feel like the seam is about to split my twat in half. It don’t work for me.
Calleja’s appointment and proficiency with anything bladed had caused a surge of interest in training with melee weapons. She didn’t have time to lead every single session herself but she’d been heavily involved in training the trainers. So far she’d refused to issue any permits for carrying a knife on regular duty - hers was still the only valid one on the crew much to the chagrin of at least two Klingon officers - but she looked forward to the day that her team proved themselves worthy.
She let herself into the holodeck to see the simulation already loaded. With a sigh she approached Ardanna.
“You know I’m an urban creature, right? This green shit ain’t my normal habitat,” she joked with a feral grin. Dark eyes picked out the weapons table and she picked up a combat blade.
“I swear, if I have to give one more lecture on proper use of a knife, I’m gonna use it on the idiot concerned.” She flicked the weapon around in her hand so the blade was pointing down. “They all wanna use them like this. And they’re all wrong. You know what they call people who use knives with the blades down? The deceased. You got two moves with any power behind them. A big overhead cut, and if you try that I’ll have carved my full name and comm frequency across your gut before you get the knife halfway down. Or what’s basically a punch with a blade out the back of your hand.”
The Bandaran demonstrated both strokes with a look of utter disdain on her face.
“That’s it. That’s all you got.” She reversed her grip again with a dexterity born of far too many years wielding knives. “Like this though? Galaxy is at your mercy. It’s true what they say. Way to a man’s heart is actually through his stomach. And holdin’ the damn knife properly, blade up, you can get enough force behind your stroke to actually get it there too.”
The grin was back on her lips as she tossed the blade back onto the table.
“What’s the drill? You got somethin’ in mind, other than a lecture on the basics from an angry bitch?” Mara asked.
Mara wandered towards the holodeck. The Security Chief had her own approach to workout gear. She shunned the tight-fitting clothes worn by most of the rest of the crew, going instead with baggy sweatpants, a hooded sweatshirt and high-top sneakers. Inevitably everything was black.
I’m sure that counsellor would tell me I’m self-repressin’ again. She can fuck off too. I can’t turn up to lift or train in a fuckin’ bikini or those stupid stretchy pants that feel like the seam is about to split my twat in half. It don’t work for me.
Calleja’s appointment and proficiency with anything bladed had caused a surge of interest in training with melee weapons. She didn’t have time to lead every single session herself but she’d been heavily involved in training the trainers. So far she’d refused to issue any permits for carrying a knife on regular duty - hers was still the only valid one on the crew much to the chagrin of at least two Klingon officers - but she looked forward to the day that her team proved themselves worthy.
She let herself into the holodeck to see the simulation already loaded. With a sigh she approached Ardanna.
“You know I’m an urban creature, right? This green shit ain’t my normal habitat,” she joked with a feral grin. Dark eyes picked out the weapons table and she picked up a combat blade.
“I swear, if I have to give one more lecture on proper use of a knife, I’m gonna use it on the idiot concerned.” She flicked the weapon around in her hand so the blade was pointing down. “They all wanna use them like this. And they’re all wrong. You know what they call people who use knives with the blades down? The deceased. You got two moves with any power behind them. A big overhead cut, and if you try that I’ll have carved my full name and comm frequency across your gut before you get the knife halfway down. Or what’s basically a punch with a blade out the back of your hand.”
The Bandaran demonstrated both strokes with a look of utter disdain on her face.
“That’s it. That’s all you got.” She reversed her grip again with a dexterity born of far too many years wielding knives. “Like this though? Galaxy is at your mercy. It’s true what they say. Way to a man’s heart is actually through his stomach. And holdin’ the damn knife properly, blade up, you can get enough force behind your stroke to actually get it there too.”
The grin was back on her lips as she tossed the blade back onto the table.
“What’s the drill? You got somethin’ in mind, other than a lecture on the basics from an angry bitch?” Mara asked.