ten_fwd | Gym

Current Location: Deck 12, Gymnasium

Entry tags:

Gym - OTA

There was a time when Annie was in a gym at least six days out of seven. Ages eleven to sixteen, during her time at the Career Academy (a slightly grandiose name for quite a glorified school club, but it wasn't until Annie was a victor herself that she recognized the self-depreciating humour in the name). Before school and after school, training and training and training. After that, when she was washed out, no gyms, but she kept up the physical activity - and exceeded it, fishing being what it is. As a victor, she ran most mornings, or swum. Worked out. Sparred with Finnick. She'd noticed if she didn't, her mind got worse, her fits of hysteria (anxiety attacks, Beverly had called them) more frequent.

But it's been six months since she's done anything properly physical regularly. When her mood's been stable, she's turned the holodeck into a running track, but that hasn't been nearly anything like five or six days out of seven.

She's twitchy, which goes a way to explain how she winds up in the gymnasium, trailing her fingers over the bo staffs in their rack. She'd been good at spears in the Academy, and although the idea of stabbing now makes her uneasy, she's still good at wielding a staff. She can get her fiancé (tall, built, twice her size and lethal) on his back.

Annie picks up one of the staffs and hefts it, giving it an experimental twirl. It's well-balanced, and she smiles, quiet and shy and delighted.

But despite that delight, and how practically she's already dressed (boots, trousers, simple blouse under her loose jacket, hair braided), she doesn't make any further movements towards any of the practice mats.

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The other place Beverly can be found that isn't sickbay, Ten Forward, or the Arboretum is the gym. Unlike a lot of people, Beverly isn't much of a weight-lifter. She prefers things like meditation, which she usually ends up doing through the Klingon form of Mok'bara. It's usually so effective at clearing her mind that it was what she used often in Zelien, at least towards the end of her stay, and now when Annie walks in Beverly isn't even paying attention to the room. She might be if something threatened her little bubble, but right now? No.

It isn't until after Annie has chosen her staff and Beverly has gotten through a sequence of the Mok'bara form that she finally pauses, intending to reset and start again. Instead, she pauses fully, noticing her new companion.

"I didn't realize anyone else was in here."

She was just that distracted.

"I was tryin' not to disturb you," Annie admits then, automatically and casually resting her staff across her shoulder. It's a move with a bit of swagger to it, but as soon as she notices that she's done it, she winces and swings the staff down and holds it with both her hands.

She's not a Career any more. She's not. That confident girl managed to think her way into terror years before she ever set foot in the Capitol.

"I. What were you doing, Beverly? It didn't really look like you practising to fight."

Beverly's smile warms a touch and she gives her head a little shake of reassurance. "Believe me, there's little that can interrupt me in the middle of that." As Annie could probably tell, Beverly gets involved in what she's doing, hyper focused to the point that she blocks out everything else, including her own thoughts and worries. That is, of course, the entire point.

"I wasn't," she admits. "It's the basis for a form of Klingon combat called Mok'bara. It's said to clear the mind, so I use it more as a form of meditation, to keep my mind clear and focused, especially when I have too much time to let my mind wander to less pleasant things." Like Zelien, which she is sure she doesn't need to clarify for Annie.

"Actually, it might do you some good, too. I could teach you, if you'd like." She won't be as good as Worf, but she's taught a fair few people by now. Besides, it really might help Annie with her anxiety.

It seems a dangerous state. Or, a potentially dangerous one. But then, maybe Beverly trusts this ship and everyone in it enough to choose to do it.

The idea makes the area between Annie's shoulder-blades itch. She's not like Finnick or Naia, that sharp awareness of surroundings that never ever leaves isn't something she carries with her all the time. Good awareness, yes, and she can get distracted. Zone out entirely, and have no idea what is going on until she's called back. But purposefully going into that state outside her room or her house?

Her mouth tilts at that, not really convinced.

"It sounds a bit like rope-tying," is what she says, though. "Finnick showed me. I mean. I know how to tie knots since I was a toddler. But. He does it as a way of calming down and focusing. And showed it to me. The repetitive physical actions, instead of all just being in your own head. Is it like that?"

Beverly does trust the crew of this ship, but she also knows that if it really came down to it, she could probably manage to stave off an attack even if she was in a full state of meditation. Then again, she isn't quite the fighter that a lot of people are, even after her adventures in Zelien. Annie might be one of those who could use that meditative state to heighten her awareness of everything around her without tensing up. It's another thought to offer.

"A little yes," she agrees, tilting her head a little as she considers how to explain. "It clears my mind so that if I need to, I could concentrate on something else a little easier. It's supposed to make fighting and combat easier, more natural. You learn the steps of it and eventually, each movement comes easier and easier until you don't have to think about them. You just do. It gives my mind something to focus on, my body something to do, so that I don't have to think about whatever is bothering me. I can just... breathe."

Annie's gaze had been starting to drift as she listens to Beverly, and her brows had been creased a little in thought, but fight and combat makes her focus sharply on the older woman.

You just do.

"You learned this before you were taken to Zelion?" she asks, still frowning. "Why would you need to know how to fight?"

Starfleet favours peace, peace, peace, it seems, and Beverly's a doctor. A healer.

What purpose would there to be to fight?

They have only barely begun to scratch the surface of Zelien. Honestly, Beverly has yet to talk about in depth with anyone, even Deanna or Jean-Luc. The memories are still too new, too difficult to get past. The second Annie asks her about it, Beverly's entire demeanor changes. Her body shifts, expression closing just a little into wariness before she can smooth it out again, and tenses, just enough to show that the place her mind wandered to (see also: Zelien in its entirety) really isn't a pleasant topic.

"Like I said, I use it for meditation purposes," she explains slowly, gauging Annie's reaction as she goes. "A friend was teaching a class a few years ago and I decided it would be a good use of my time. Starfleet might advocate peace, but we are a military organization. We are all trained in some form or another for combat, even if we prefer to use it for protection rather than gain." She purses her lips for a minute before adding on, "It's saved my life a few times, especially right before I got here."

If she hadn't been able to fight in Zelien, she never would have survived. She's sure Annie can understand that.

She notices the shift. It is one things she's good at, on the spot and when she's paying attention. Body-language. And this, at least, is familiar. Victors have it. Sometimes, old sailors, too. When the kids gather 'round and want to ask about old, terrible storms. Being caught out in hurricanes far, far out in the ocean. But mostly victors.

Annie doesn't say sorry, not verbally anyway. Instead, she apologizes with her expression and hopes it's enough given how Beverly is trying to control her own.

"I see," is what she says, softly, glancing down at the staff she's still holding in front of her thighs. "That, uh. Makes sense. You don't freeze."

There's bitterness in her tone, and she hurries to cover it with a question.

"Starfleet's allowed, then. Is, are, civilians? Or is it illegal?"

Beverly did just offer, but while she doesn't really think it's a trap, she does wonder if she'll have to pretend she doesn't know.

Even just a little empathy, the smallest of nonverbal apologies, means something. Beverly gets it, even if she can't really answer very well. It still means enough to her.

"Some do," Beverly answers softly. "Some go through the Academy, graduate as full-fledged Starfleet officers, and are never prepared for everything that entails. As Starfleet officers, we are held to a higher standard than anyone else. Civilians are never expected to do what we do or to uphold our protocols. But, no matter where our loyalties are, learning to defend yourself isn't considered assault."

So Annie would be well within her rights to learn if she wanted.

There are sports with violence in Panem, in the districts. Boxing, kickboxing. Wrestling. Where the Careers go illegal is the depth, is the purpose. Is learning how to kill, not score points. Is using weapons.

Like the staff in her hands.

(But she can explain with glassmaking. She can. Twirl the pipe and blow down it to change the shape of the hot glass.)

"Explains some of what's around, here. I guess," Annie says, biting her bottom lip. "Could. Could you show me? A little?"

"Of course," Beverly answers with a smile. "You could do it with your staff, but it's easier to learn without anything in your hands."

Motioning for Annie to join her when she's ready, she settles into the first stance. "I'll show you how it goes in steps. After a few repetitions of the entire set, we can try putting the whole thing together."

She'll see how Annie does. They might not make it through the whole plan during their first try, but she has no doubt that Annie will pick up the basics very quickly.

"I don't really need the staff for anything," Annie admits, and puts it back, carefully. She can't spar with anyone not Finnick, and it's not really one of her glassmaking tools to twirl.

She hesitates, and then kneels to take off her boots and socks before slipping her jacket off and neatly folding it on top of them. At least her hair is already in a braid. Then she walks over.

"Do you want me to stand in front of you, or to the side to copy?"

"I think mirroring my movements from the side will be the best option for right now," Beverly answers. "Unless you feel more comfortable mirroring from the front."

It doesn't matter to her, as she has done this both ways before. Her own hair is too short to braid, but she did pin it up a bit to get it out of her face and she's in her Mok'bara clothes. Even after all these years, it still fits.

Giving Annie and encouraging smile, Beverly waits to see what she chooses before settling again into the first stance. She will make sure Annie gets it and then move on to the next, taking it slowly to give her friend time to mirror each of her movements.

"Side."

Front can be useful. Very useful. But the idea of focusing on something in front of her is making the skin between her shoulder-blades crawl. Not much. Just a little.

Annie settles into the same stance as Beverly, adjusting until she's balanced, and then follows.

She's a quick study, and despite all her skittishness, she knows her body and how it moves. She's also been trained in following directions.

It's exhausting, more mentally than anything else, just focusing on slowly moving. But she continues until Beverly says otherwise.

Beverly keeps her demonstration to a speed that Annie seems comfortable with, however slow or fast it ends up being. Once they've made it through one sequence, she pauses, straightening up again and glancing at Annie to see how she's doing.

"You're doing very well," she says with an encouraging smile. "Do you want to go through them individually again or shall we put them together now?"

"Put them together."

It's a flash of her old confidence, the confidence she'd had as a teenager. Learning things and putting them together quickly? That, she knew how to do. Not just training, but an innate skill she'd grown up with. She wants to see if she still has it.

And she does. She can't run through the entire sequence without a mistake, but she does it well enough that when they are done, she's grinning in something like triumph.

They still take the sequence slowly, mostly because that's how it was meant to be done, and even though Beverly had to correct a few things, they were minor enough that she doesn't mind sharing in Annie's triumph.

"Well done! You're a very fast learner, but I shouldn't be surprised. With how quickly you picked up everything else, I should have known you would pick this up just as quickly. A few more repetitions and you'll have this down in no time."

It's been years since Annie's had to learn anything completely new, or even moderately new. The last major thing had been her glassmaking, but that was five and a half years ago now.

The computers in the lab had been new, but she'd been too stressed to really feel much achievement there. But this? This, something physical, requiring her to watch and think and replicate, makes her happy in a way she's finding it hard to remember.

"Maybe you're a good teacher," is what she says, though. Complete a, "Thank you."

It's not a thanks for the compliment.

Beverly just smiles warmly and brightly in response, feeling happiness that she can offer something like this to a girl who so obviously needs even the smallest comfort and support in her life.

"Come on, let's try it again," Beverly encourages. "The more practice you have, the better your form will be and the easier it will be for you to experience the meditation part. When you know the pattern well enough, you'll be able to focus on relaxing and letting your mind rest."

That's how it usually works for Beverly, at least, and how it's supposed to work from what she can tell. She's hoping she can help Annie experience the same soon.

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Gym - OTA

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