rakuen | Backdated to Rest Day

Entry tags:

Backdated to Rest Day

Characters: Spain and you.
Format: [action] or prose
This log is: Open
Location: Outside the battle arena
Summary: Spain has a football and wants to play with Rakuen. Obviously there is only one ball so feel free to threadjack to take it away. Or you can pretend you already got it back and just start a new thread, haha.

On the rest day, anyone on their way to the Mercantile or Residential areas can find Spain just outside the arena. Now that he doesn't have to worry about getting into any fights or penalties of any sort, today is a good day to relax and have fun.

Spain has a football and is showing off different tricks. All seems to be going well until he tries to do a rather complicated one which sends the ball rolling away. . .

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... and comes to a stop against Britannia's foot. She's been watching Spain for a little while now, trying to figure out what exactly is so fun about bapping around a small ball pointlessly. Spain sure as heck looked like he was having fun, but she's still rather dubious.

Numbers, after all, find the strangest things entertaining. But she did promise him she would play if he fought and won, and he did, so she will. Never let it be said that Britannia breaks her promises.

Which is why she's currently standing in a pair of sneakers and the school's gym uniform, version a la shorts.

It takes Spain a moment to find the ball. When he sees it, he grins at Britannia, "Well?" He asks, "It's more fun if you kick it back, I promise."

"Like if I kick it at you?" The question seems harmless, but there's a glint of mischief in her eyes as she settles her foot on top of the ball and rolls it back and forth, getting a feel for it.

"Sí." Her implication go over his head. "Who else are you going to kick it at right now?"

That question earns a laugh as she takes a step or two back, prepping herself for the shot. "I guess you've got a point!" And then- wham!

But while her strength might be impressive, even dulled as it is by the city, at least her aim might be crap...

Spain gets ready for the kick when-- he screams, ducking to get out of the way and crashing onto the ground. The ball bounces against the arena wall with a loud smack, bouncing back, and rolling until it's between the two of them. Looking up from his position on the ground, Spain makes a face at Britannia,

"That was-- ay, are you trying to kill me?!"

"No? Wasn't I supposed to kick it at you?" Britannia's tone is questioning and a little bit confused. Why is he all the way down there on the ground, avoiding her pass?

"Did I kick it too lightly? I know I'm not as strong as I usually am but I thought that was pretty good..."

"You could have taken off my head!" Okay, no, that was an exaggeration and he could have easily returned it but he wasn't expecting it. Scrambling back onto his feet, he goes to get the ball, "Don't kick so hard! You'll hurt other people. And yourself too!"

"I will?" Spain's statement is met with surprise as she watches him pick up the ball. It's less the concern that she might hurt others and more that she could hurt herself. How would kicking a ball hurt her? Isn't it just making a motion with your body, exerting a little bit of force? Surely that never hurt anyone...

"Sí." He turns the ball in his hands and thinks of how to explain what he means. After a moment's thought, he drops the ball onto the ground and places the tip of his toe against it, "If you kick it wrong, like this, you could hurt your foot." He turns his foot slightly.

"This way, you don't shatter your toe and have to limp for weeks."

Don't mind Britannia's face as it just sort of. Goes blank.

"Kicking a ball won't really shatter your toe. ... will it?" Hi, just look at the confused horror on her face. Soccer isn't really a big thing in Britannia, them being more appreciative of gentlemanly games like polo, cricket and chess. As such, that's the only reason she still doesn't know the rules of it despite being nearly 200 years old.

"You'd be surprised!" He smiles at her, oblivious to her horror. "I know it's just a game but you can still get hurt if you aren't careful."

There's a pause and Spain tilts his head curiously, "Have you played before?"

Shaking her head carefully, she gives a little shrug in following, as if that explains why she hasn't. Despite the sport's popularity in England, after the loyalists came to the New World, there wasn't exactly any interest in cultivating teams for it to compete in world tournaments. Especially when you consider the history of warfare that came shortly afterward.

So while it's used in recreation, it's a lesser sport and not considered important.

"I'm pretty good at polo though." She points out, feeling the need to redeem herself.

"Polo?" Spain makes a face at this. It isn't a bad face and it's more surprised than anything. Polo wasn't a very common sport and it certainly wasn't one anyone could play. "Well, polo is fun but not everyone can just get a horse, you know?"

And as he thinks of what to say next, he moves his foot and begins to balance the ball. "All right, I'll teach you how to play. Lucky you! You're going to learn from the best in the world. What do you say?"

As her need to be defensive lets up, it's gradually replaced by a strange feeling of excitement.

It takes her a moment to realize it's because of what Spain is currently doing, that is, willingly interacting with her. Back at her house, the European barely gave her the time of day and all of their interactions were initiated by her, making it no secret that he really didn't care for his situation.

As an empire, that really shouldn't matter but... she can't deny, this seems to be a lot more fun. So she smiles, a little more sincerely than usual, and shrugs as she tosses out a joke. "That you might not be the best in the world soon."

Being an empire is a sad thing and it's something Spain would be able to relate to if he knew it was a thing they had in common at all. Yes, Spain is still quite certain that Britannia is a little nation pretending to be an empire. Empires don't exist back at home anymore! And they haven't existed in a very long time.

"Oh, no, I'm the best and that isn't going to change." Once he sees Britannia is ready, he kicks the ball once in the air and again at her, "Kick it back. Not too hard this time!"

She wishes someone had told him about the parallel worlds theory already. Or maybe he's treating that possibility like he's treating her existence: impossible.

Still, as he passes the ball to her, she quickly tries to run what she knows of the sport through her head. No hands, don't kill your opponent... uuuuuuhm- oh, I'm not supposed to kick with my toes, just the side of my foot so I'm standing in the wrong position to- And as she tries to correct her footing, the ball is already there and she needs to kick it back but she's already a split second too late and-

Well ultimately her foot ends up connecting with air when she swings, sending herself off balance and onto her ass.

Well. "... I don't think I did that right."

Oh, someone had explained the theory of alternate realities to him before! But that was before he knew about multiple worlds too so of course, Spain didn't believe it and he hasn't thought about it much since then.

. . . Honestly, he's probably forgotten most of it by now.

Spain gets ready to kick the ball back once she does but realizes that isn't going to happen any time soon. He watches as she falls and covers his mouth with his hand to hide a smile. No, who is he kidding, he laughs and goes over to help her.

"Don't worry, you'll get it right soon."

Spain, the word for you is quickly becoming aggravating.

"I would believe that more if you weren't laughing." Still, she accepts the hand up and brushes her shorts off a little, frowning at the small grass stain she's already acquired. Well, those were a part of recreation too she'll deal with that. Once she's gotten grass bits off of her clothing, she'll dust off her hands and go to retrieve the ball, trying to use the sides of her feet to nudge it over.

Then (with a small breath she won't admit to taking) she bats it over to Spain, focusing on both control of the direction and her own power. It rolls smoothly over the grass... but is probably a little on the wide side.

You mean it hasn't been the word before.

"Aw, cheer up! If you make a mistake, it isn't so bad if you can laugh at it." He waits a moment to make sure she didn't hurt herself and then steps back to give her some room. Though the ball is off target, it's a good kick and he goes to retrieve it. "Good! That was good, let's try a few more times though."

And he kicks it back. This will probably repeat for another few minutes with Spain offering little tips and suggestions along the way.

"If I make a mistake, I'm supposed to learn from it." She remarks automatically, frowning as she watches it go off course and tries to understand why it did that. As they begin passing back and forth, her kicks steadily improve until they're making their way towards Spain's feet every time. His tips are definitely helping and the rest she'll have to pit on her ability to adapt which is, admittedly, rather impressive.

Eventually, as her kicks become stronger (but still within reason) and more confident, her smile grows.

"There we go!" Spain cheers her along the entire time. It's obvious that he's having fun and when he sees that she's enjoying herself too, it makes it even better. Finally, he'll stop the ball and applaud, "Muy bien, very good. You've mastered the first step."

"And now for the next one." He rolls the ball some with his foot and gives her her next assignment, "Now, try to take it away fro me."

And he takes off running with the ball, "And keep your hands to yourself! And don't tackle me! This isn't America's football! And if you do, I'll give you a red card, understand?"

"Huh?" When Spain starts running off with the ball, he catches her by surprise causing her to hesitate for a second too long before she's chasing after him, trying to close the sudden distances between the two of them. As she does this, she tries to figure out what exactly he means by 'America's football' while also keeping her eyes on the ball bouncing between his feet.

"What's America's football like?" She gets out between breaths, the last part of her sentence accenting as she sticks her foot out and tries to snag the ball away with the tip of her foot.

Oh, it isn't going to be that easy, Britannia! When Spain sees her coming in, he moves the ball away. Spain might not be an empire anymore but some habits don't change. Spain is known for being incredibly possessive in play and doesn't give the ball up easily. He's going rather easy on her though so she gets pretty close.

"Well!" He begins but it's hard talking while doing this at the same time, "You carry the ball first! And--" Running, running. . . "More physical!"

Honestly the only reason Britannia was probably able to catch up with him is because of her long stride. Admittedly, she isn't in the greatest of shape, though it has nothing to do with her diet. Her figure is fine, it's merely her stamina because she's had no real cause for strenuous exercise. Horse riding and knightmare piloting, sure, but when it comes to prolonged exertion, she's in trouble.

As such, her breath is already starting to come pretty hard as she considers her options, then decides it's all or nothing and picks up the pace.

"Like basketball?" The question is breathless as she gets behind him and tries to hook his feet out from under him with a leg sweep.

Backdated to Rest Day

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