likeblueblazes | We can always play by ear. [Tris]

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tris prior

We can always play by ear. [Tris]

To say that the sheer scope of Off the Wall intimidates Ophelia proves an understatement; her eyes widen as she takes in the various people running, climbing, leaping, and crashing off of various obstacles. There is a sense of recklessness to their movements - a kind of recklessness that Ophelia envies, usually, from a distance. When Jax told her to seek a woman named Tris, she had no idea what she was signing up for.

Still. She steadies herself; she takes a deep breath, and she presses her lips together in determination. She needs to practice self-defense. If she wants to protect Flavia, let alone herself, she needs to be prepared to do so, no matter how unadylike it might require her to become.

Tightening her hair from where it hangs behind her in an uncharacteristic ponytail, Ophelia decides to hell with her nerves. Potential new threats aren't going to wait for her to maintain her composure. Shoulders squared, she ventures up to the front desk, ignoring some of the odd looks thrown her way for her outfit choice of a pencil skirt and a blouse.

A woman sits behind the desk, with short hair and a face that seems both young and wise all at once. She could be her own age, Ophelia thinks, taking in the sight of the other girl.

"Excuse me," she says, placing her hands on the edge of the front desk mostly to keep herself steady. "I'm looking for a woman named Tris? I was told she was really good for self-defense."

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Every now and then, we have new customers who come in and request certain instructors. Typically it's Sassy or Shevaun for their experience. Now and then, we get a few customers who ask for Tobias, either for the intensity of his training or for his looks. I sometimes wish I had a ring to flaunt, for the latter, though I'd never say it.

Occasionally, people request me, but I always get surprised.

"You've found her," I say, holding out a hand. "Tris Prior."

"Oh," Ophelia blinks, taken aback a bit. She certainly wasn't expecting to meet the girl at the front desk, but she supposes life works in funny ways like that. At first glance, she doesn't appear to be threatening, but Ophelia knows how appearances can be deceiving. And Jax, the intimidating man she'd met at the boxing gym, highly recommended Tris. There's nothing left to do but reaches out and shake her hand.

"I'm Ophelia de Luce," she introduces herself. "I was told you are great for self-defense. I'd like to learn more about it."

The wounds on her neck have faded a bit, but they remain prominent, even as she no longer needs much besides a bandage on them.

"I do teach beginning self-defense," I agree, shaking her hand. "And all of my students seem to like me, so I suppose I am." I am not so fixated on truth as Candor, but I understand their disinterest in false modesty. It feels like a betrayal to myself and to the girl who's sought me out for my skills.

"Do you want to sign up? I have a class in about a half hour that you can sit in on if you want to see what it's like?"

"A man named Jax recommended you," Ophelia explains, as if they might prove of some use to their conversation and her burgeoning interest in learning to defend herself. "And he seems to know what he's talking about, in terms of fighting."

"That would be wonderful," she admits. "How much does it cost per class?"

"He did?" That, honestly, takes me by surprise. I remember him, a large man with a proud stance who'd looked at me in more surprise than respect. Maybe he's more charitable than I would have expected. Or smarter.

"It's a hundred and forty for a ten-week course and twenty for drop ins," I explain. "You save sixty dollars if you sign up for a full session and I can work with you more consistently."

"He told me, and I quote: 'She'll kick your ass and you'll thank her for it,'" Ophelia does her best to adopt Jax's accent, with little success, considering the thickness of her own. But she smiles, regardless.

She chews on her lip, considering the cost. She does have to watch her spending, considering college approaching. But this seems like a reasonable expense, especially after she just got attacked.

"Alright," she nods. "I'll watch and decide at the end of the class, if that is alright with you?"

I laugh, both at his words and the other woman's imitation. "I'm glad he thinks well of me."

Watching her face, I take a moment and guess at her age, the way she's clearly weighing options in her head.

"I can give you a tour until then. Are you a student, by the way?"

"I would hate to wind up on his bad side," she admits, recalling their training session at the gym. She could only imagine how he might make use of his muscles in an actual fight.

"A tour would be great," she smiles again, determined to see more of Off the Wall. "And yes, I am. Currently a senior at the high school, though I'll be graduating soon."

"If you're going to attend college, we have a ten percent off discount on classes." There's something in her expression that's hidden beneath her poise and pencil skirt, like she's come here expecting to be forged into something. It makes me want to stoke the fire for her.

"Okay." I reach under the desk and show her one of our bracelets. "There's a microchip in this. Once you sign up, it grants you access to the gym and any classrooms you're attending. Follow me."

"Oh really?" She perks up at the mention of that. Her experience with shopping has taught her to value any and all sales and discounts she might come across. Ten percent off is welcome news, indeed. "I should be. I sent in my acceptance letter to Barton just the other month!"

Ophelia doesn't necessarily want to have to make use of the skills she might acquire here, but neither does she want to feel helpless. Having Flavia for a sister has taught her well the importance of bravery, and she thinks these lessons just might be able to lend her some courage.

She glances at the bracelet, taking it in. "More technological wonders, I see," she says. "Alright. We are we off to first?"

"Perfect. If you can show us your student e-mail or an ID, we can set it up," I say. I put the bracelet away and tap my own against the gate. Laughing, I explain, "We used to have keychains, but they kept falling off and getting lost."

I walk her through the main area, showing Ophelia all the boxes and catwalks. "We rearrange this area every twenty-four hours for people and then all of the classes are in the smaller rooms here."

"I should have my student e-mail set up soon, I think," Ophelia replies, watching Tris press her bracelet against the gate. "Keychains do seem like they would be a hassle." Especially with all of the movement that goes on here, she thinks.

"So it changes every day?" Ophelia asks, glancing around as they walk through the gym's main location. "How come?"

"So that people can adapt. Parkour is all about interacting with your environment, going from rooftop to rooftop or trees or..." I shrug, gesturing at the people who are swinging, rolling, leaping from place to place.

"You can use this space too, as long as you complete a safety course or show one of the instructors that you can handle yourself safely."

"Basically running around like mad?" She says, watching as a girl who appears similar in both age and build to her runs towards a ledge of some kind, before leaping onto it and spinning as she jumps off. There's a manic energy to this sort of thing; Ophelia finds herself lured by the actions of those around her.

"A safety course?" She wonders what that entails. It makes sense, of course. She can easily see how people might get hurt here.

"The goal is to get from one place to another in the shortest, must direct way. If that means going over rooftops, then so be it," I explain. It's the gym's specialty, though they've branched out to other, easier classes just in case.

"So this area changes and then all of those doors here lead to the classrooms." I go, first to the the dance room with the barre and poles and tap my wrist against the key.

"Wow," Ophelia murmurs as she continues watching the people in the gym all around them. "That sounds rather intense. But a good work-out, I suppose." With a pang, she realizes that she could easily see Harriet participating in an activity like this.

"Okay," she nods, following her into the classrooms. "Ooh, a dance studio?" She perks up at the thought. It would be nice to learn to dance.

"Yeah. I'm not here very often and it's mostly dance as exercise and pole dancing, which is actually incredibly difficult," I admit, smiling. People tend to look down on the erotic dancing until they realize how much strength it requires.

"You dance?"

"Pole dancing?" She repeats, startled as she wonders what that might entail. She is still not very acquainted with the modern styles of dancing yet.

"No, but I do enjoy watching ballet," she admits. She wonders if taking dance lessons might help improve her own stamina; if they might add strength to her desire to improve her own self-defense.

"It's a kind of erotic dance. Sometimes a woman named Helen comes in and she's really great at it." I can't help glancing sideways and trying to gauge the way Ophelia will react at he idea of erotic dance when she carries herself so carefully.

"The other rooms all look the same," I say, opening up the classroom where I'll be teaching today. "Mirror wall and mats that we take down or put away."

"Erotic dancing?" Ophelia feels her face burn brightly at the thought, trying to imagine what such a style of dancing could possibly entail. Just the name of it makes her squirm in both curiosity and discomfort. "I mean. I'm sure it's very...fascinating. I'm glad people enjoy it." She doesn't feel more prim or proper than in that moment, her face red underneath Tris' gaze.

"Alright," Ophelia nods, glancing around at the classroom. It seems comfortable enough for a variety of sized classes, she thinks. She wonders how many will be in here today. "So do you change classrooms often, or do you have your own, personalized room?"

I nod. "It's harder than it looks. I tried it once and my muscles were sore for two days." I can't help tacking on the qualifier, a reminder that its origins don't mean it's any less than other kinds of dance. It still takes strength and grace.

"No. What I need for my classes is pretty straightforward. We just stay in one room to keep things simple." As I talk, I start unfolding thin floor mats for my students to walk and sit on.

"I don't think I'm quite ready to take on so much potential soreness, myself," she replies wryly. Not that she could ever imagine herself taking erotic dance lessons; as much as Darrow has opened her mind in many ways, such a dance style holds little appeal for her.

"I see," she says, moving to start helping Tris unfold the mats. "How large are your classes, generally?"

"All my time slots are capped at twenty people a session. It gives me enough time to work with people on on one." It's hardly bigger than my Dauntless initiate class. Or at least the size it had been at the start, before we were slowly chipped through one by one.

"We also have open days, if you ever want to look at our other classes on offer. Anyway, take a seat in that chair." I gesture at one of the two chairs we have in the corner for observers. "I need to set up the mats."

"Twenty people," Ophelia repeats, trying to picture the room with the number of students Tris mentions. She likes the idea of a smaller class; more room to learn and also less people to make herself a fool in front of. Still, the prospect is a tad intimidating, considering Ophelia has grown up with governesses and private tutors all her life.

"Oh? What days are those?" She asks, curious, as she moves to sit in the chair Tris indicates. "I think I would like to see what else this place has to offer."

"Second Friday of every month. You just sign a waiver and you can explore however you like, so today is a freebie, really." There's something about Ophelia that makes me certain she'll come back. As long as she just sits, I'm not breaking any rules.

"We also have a schedule online. In the Calendar section."

"Noted," she replies, repeating the words in her mind. If she keeps doing so, she hopes, she'll remember later to write that information down. "And thank you. That is a really nice opportunity." A chance for people to try before they dedicate themselves to a practice. It's not something Ophelia's used to, but she appreciates having the chance to, now that she's here.

"I'll have to look up the website later," she says, settling into her chair as she waits for class to start.

"I'll give you a flyer after."

I make quick work of all the folded up mats, hauling them to the floor and flattening them as my students trickle in. The experienced ones know what to do and sit at the edge, beginning to stretch as the rest follow.

"Thank you," Ophelia nods, settling into her chair more as she watches the students beginning to filter into Tris' classroom. It seems her that Tris' classes have a wide range of appeal, judging from the variety of people filing in. Some of them go right over to the mats and start stretching; Ophelia watches them with interest, taking note of how they start and progress in their routines.

It's fascinating, she thinks, observing a class.

It's a pretty standard class, starting them off with stretches and then a relay of martial arts falls, teaching them to fall forwards and backwards in a way that they can get up and not get hurt. Then I drill them through punches and blocks, then kicks, before pairing them off to practice as I walk around to see how each pair is doing.

Between assisting students, I glance over at Ophelia to see how she likes it.

Ophelia sits comfortably in her chair, but she focuses keenly on the activity happening around her. She's surprised that Tris starts them off by having them fall, but when she thinks about it, it's one of the most practical pieces of advice one could obtain. She especially concentrates on the various kicks and punches, however. Observing the class, the desire to learn how to defend herself burns stronger than ever.

She nods when Tris glances over, smiling. She is enjoying getting to watch, though she itches to try some of these moves for herself.

She's got a watchful eye and I know immediately that I've made the right choice in letting her sit in. Clearly, Ophelia wants to and is determined to learn and I'll be glad to teach her. I understand what it is, wanting to become stronger.

After class is over, I stay behind to answer any questions with my students or with Ophelia.

Ophelia finds that time passes by sooner than she realizes; she seems to blink, and Tris' class has ended, students letting out, covered in sweat, but smiling. She finds that she has certainly made her mind up; she has no doubts. With de Luce resolution, she is determined to take up self-defense lessons.

As Tris lingers behind after class, Ophelia approaches her.

"That was really amazing to watch," she says. "I learned a lot from just observing it all. Do you always go through each routine the same way each class? Or so you switch it up?"

"Same schedule, but different techniques. Like you saw, today was all about what to do if someone grabs your hair. Next will be about getting out of someone's grip and so on," I explain. If I'm clinical about it, I don't think of the way I had to fight off being grabbed from behind by Peter and Al, having to fight them off.

"So, want to sign up?"

"Ah, I see," Ophelia says. There seems to be so much to learn about self-defense; she hardly knows where to begin processing all the possibilities for it. "So focusing on different methods each class? That seems practical and smart."

She doesn't even have to pause consider, at this point.

"Yes, I believe I would," she tells her.

"Perfect." I grin and gesture to the mats. "Let me take care of these and we can go downstairs and get you signed up."

I realize that I can't wait to see her learn either.

"Let me help you with those," Ophelia offers, getting up from her chair to start rolling up the mats with Tris. "And yes, that sounds fine to me."

She finds that she's deeply looking forward to her first class. She only regrets that she didn't think to sign up sooner.

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We can always play by ear. [Tris]

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