No one had really provoked him into showing the less personable traits he'd inherited from his parents yet. Trunks still wasn't nearly as bad as either Vegeta or Bulma could be, but that didn't mean he was completely immune. His manners were mostly Gohan's influence, and his own growing up slightly isolated thanks to the Android's Reign.
Well, and some of Bulma's "Do as I say, not as I do!" attitude and lessons too.
The cannon though made him raise an eyebrow, but the ball of energy? That made Trunks laugh. Mirthful AND smug, as this was territory he was very familiar with. "Really? Now you're playing my game." Hands up above his head for a split second as he gathered energy, forming a ball of his own golden-white energy. Slowly turning blue as it charged, before he brought his hands out in front of him.
Braced, and firing his own ball of energy back to intercept her own.
Oh, she knew. And he could intercept as he wanted -- she kept a steady onslaught of energy spheres hurling at him, two smaller and then one larger and more powerful as the weapon overcharged. Not much variance; she was baiting him, trying to convince him that she thought she could overwhelm him like this and establishing a predictable pattern she could break as soon as a good opportunity presented itself.
They could do this for awhile, honestly. It wasn't the first time Trunks had been in this kind of battle of energy, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Not hard at all for him to counter her blasts with his own, and hopefully it was convincing. Because he definitely inherited his brains from both his mother and father. Bulma was a genius in most things, but Vegeta was crafty in battle.
She had to know this wouldn't work to overwhelm him; ergo it was a trap of some kind. He just had to decide if he wanted to play along, or if he wanted to spring his own. Or, he could channel his alternate self--and be a little shit. "You know you can't win this way, right? And I KNOW you know it, so stop playing with me already."
"Maybe I'm just practicing," she said, smiling more than she would have thought. "You're hardly putting up much of a fight at the moment. It's much like firing an ether cannon at a stationary target."
"You'd prefer a moving target?" Trunks called back, stopping his own volley in favor of dodging the energy attacks. Still on the ground too, as he hadn't yet taken to the air. "Try and hit me then. IF you can, I might be impressed."
Oh yes, the smirk and quirk of his brow with that taunt were definitely like his father's.
Especially since Trunks took to the air now, upping his speed and focusing purely on dodging to get closer and closer to her. Not quite as fast as he could go--he wasn't blurring or moving so fast he seemed to teleport. Yet.
Not that his speed and agility weren't up to the task, but it wasn't so perfectly easy; the energy balls homed in on biosignatures, meaning they were chasing him. But even so, she knew perfectly well she wouldn't so much as sting him that way.
Which is why as soon as he got within range, what she fired from her cannon was not a ball, but a column, rushing through the air at lightspeed towards him.
The chasing him was certainly a new wrinkle, but Trunks did enjoy a challenge. Even if it wasn't in his blood, he did appreciate competition and pushing his limits. Still, she was planning something--he knew it. Battle instincts, or experience, or something.
The column had green-eyes widen, then narrow. Arms coming up in a guard in front of him, and Trunks pulled more energy and power around him. Bracing himself but also diving for the column itself. Moving to push through it, aiming for the ground at her feet if he could.
Clever as her plan might have been -- and even anticipating that in some way he'd manage to react faster than the speed of light -- she had not planned for him to move forward while enduring it. No sooner did the column let up then there he was, completely unexpected by her!
The problem with his maneuver, was that momentum was hard to stop. Trunks managed to shift just enough to get his feet under himself, as he hit the ground. Along with all the energy around him from his own aura, and whatever blasts had followed him.
It was like being at the center of an explosion, ground churned up and gravel thrown around from the concussive force as the blast made a crater. Grass flattened, their coats and her hat blown away, and Trunks in the center of the crater.
Still glowing, crouched, and with his arms crossed and braced. Mostly unscathed and unhurt thanks to his powering-up, but with definite rips and burns to his clothing. A hole over the knee, wind-sheared rips in his shirt; cloth ripped, but the man unharmed.
Wary, but also with clear concern in his voice. "Morag?"
Huge explosions, as it happened, weren't an unfamiliar peril to her. Of course, normally she had a Blade's help in protecting herself from them, but damned if she was going to let that slow her down.
The blast knocked her back, off her feet to start with, but she rolled with the impact till the raw strength in her body could take over and force herself into a slide on her boots and one gloved hand. She didn't even think about her own situation, her clothes ripped in several places where friction had shredded them and her fair skin standing out brightly against the dark uniform colors. As soon as she got bracing beneath her, she took off at a run straight back towards him, exchanging cannon for blades as she moved.
The quick recovery did impress him; he'd hoped she hadn't been badly injured and was pleasantly surprised to find she didn't seem too much so as well. Not if she was charging at him, drawing her swords anyways.
Not that his surprise was obvious as soon as it was clear what she was doing. Up out of the crater, and Trunks charged forward too. The smirk was gone, mostly so he could focus and push her more to her limits as well as his own. Striking out with a high kick once in range, before transitioning to a low punch combo.
Fully expecting her to block or dodge his strike as he did the same. Keeping them each within range of each other. If one moved further away, the other gave chase. Trunks was slowly upping his speed, while keeping the power of his strikes controlled, mostly.
Mòrag's swords flared bright with plasma as she blocked and counterstruck, dodging easily out of the way of those attacks she didn't block as she fell into a familiar dueling form. Her own hits came out stronger and with greater determination behind them as she urged herself to draw out more of his ability. All the while a smile shone on her face, the light of her blades reflected brilliantly in her eyes.
As they continued, his smirk came back--and despite sharper green-eyes, enjoyment of the challenge was seen in their depths under the intensity and focus. "I might actually be a tiny bit impressed." Teasing arrogance in his voice--nowhere near like his father or mother had.
As she'd lunged in a strike that he'd twisted away from, Trunks reversed himself quickly, hand striking up fast to grab over her own on the blade. Blocking and moving with the motion when she countered with her other blade to grab that hand too. Grip firm and he stepped into her guard.
"I could say the same," Mòrag said over her blades, not letting up on the strength behind them so he couldn't easily push her back. The plasma was roaring-hot to her, making a few sweat drops bead on her temples. What a nuisance that was! "I might still consider you a worthwhile challenge even if Brighid was here."
He wasn't trying to push her back too easily; she was strong and he was stronger and physically overpowering her wouldn't be good training for either of them now would it? "That'd be a nice bluff if I believed it." Definite cockiness in the tone. "You know what I'm like on the battlefield, and I'm holding back right now."
"And I lack a Blade," she said with a smirk. "Taking pride in standing up to a woman who's essentially unarmed?
She WAS enjoying this. Normally banter like this didn't escape her, even in a spar. Maybe she was getting too relaxed outside of Mor Ardain... but she found herself not minding too much.
"Not at all. Even without a Blade" Emphasizing the capital B on the word no less. "I don't think of you as unarmed or any less dangerous." Trunks countered, teeth visible as he smirked as normally he did not get to enjoy banter like this.
He rarely had people he could spar or train against after all.
"Even for training though, I'm holding back. Unless you'd like to try something new?"
Trunks would've actually been less surprised if she'd gone for a different area. Shifting only slightly and her knee still hit his stomach. Green-eyes widened and blinked for a second, before he laughed. Not mocking at all, more a genuine chuckling laugh from his chest.
"Like I said--dangerous and never unarmed."
It did nothing else, but inspire a rare moment of mirth and a grin.
"Hmph. All the more reason I'll spar you on Alrest someday."
She hadn't thought that would work, but... still, the hope had been there. Fine. She had to try something else. That something else took the form of her pushing up against the grip he had on her blades, then stepping in as she twisted her elbow around straight towards his cheek.
Considering that action brought her even closer, since he'd already been in her guard, in to HIS guard--there wasn't much room to move. Head tilting to the side, Trunks knew that wouldn't avoid the strike fully. Especially with their close quarters...
So he pushed back on her grip in turn and brought up his own knee towards her hip, aiming to take her up and off her balance.
Her reaction came fierce and reflexively, no meaningfully conscious thought behind it: she curled her own leg, clamping his in turn quite powerfully. If he stayed up so would she; if she went down so would he. Parity either way in her mind.
It hadn't been expected but he also couldn't blame her reaction. It was one he might've pulled himself; twisting slightly for some leverage and trying to bring his knee slightly higher. Trunks dropped slightly into a controlled fall, loosing his grip from hers and taking the advantage inside her guard to shove her own arms wide open.
Green-eyes narrowed and he continued the motion and brought his other leg up, and shoved. Hard. Even without the power and tangle of her leg around his (which would've worked for a normal person), it would've been hard to stay in close with the throw.
Straight up in the air, fast and high.
Which gave Trunks the second to spring back on his hands, and back to his feet in a crouch. And for realization to set in, green eyes widening and a curse bit off.
Just like that, her feet left the ground, and she flew upwards. Not an unaccustomed thing in and of itself -- but as the ground grew further away, she had to reluctantly acknowledge that this was, indeed, a problem. She might be sturdy enough to fall more than the average person, but not this far!
Maybe it had been the heat of the moment, both invested in the fight even if it was just sparring...
No sooner was the half-curse out of his mouth, then Trunks kicked off the ground himself. Flying up--fast--to come from underneath and catch her. Not that Morag was any kind of damsel in distress, it was just easier to catch her that way. One arm around her back and shoulders, the other under her knees, and still with startled green-eyes.
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Well, and some of Bulma's "Do as I say, not as I do!" attitude and lessons too.
The cannon though made him raise an eyebrow, but the ball of energy? That made Trunks laugh. Mirthful AND smug, as this was territory he was very familiar with. "Really? Now you're playing my game." Hands up above his head for a split second as he gathered energy, forming a ball of his own golden-white energy. Slowly turning blue as it charged, before he brought his hands out in front of him.
Braced, and firing his own ball of energy back to intercept her own.
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She had to know this wouldn't work to overwhelm him; ergo it was a trap of some kind. He just had to decide if he wanted to play along, or if he wanted to spring his own. Or, he could channel his alternate self--and be a little shit. "You know you can't win this way, right? And I KNOW you know it, so stop playing with me already."
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Oh yes, the smirk and quirk of his brow with that taunt were definitely like his father's.
Especially since Trunks took to the air now, upping his speed and focusing purely on dodging to get closer and closer to her. Not quite as fast as he could go--he wasn't blurring or moving so fast he seemed to teleport. Yet.
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Which is why as soon as he got within range, what she fired from her cannon was not a ball, but a column, rushing through the air at lightspeed towards him.
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The column had green-eyes widen, then narrow. Arms coming up in a guard in front of him, and Trunks pulled more energy and power around him. Bracing himself but also diving for the column itself. Moving to push through it, aiming for the ground at her feet if he could.
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It was like being at the center of an explosion, ground churned up and gravel thrown around from the concussive force as the blast made a crater. Grass flattened, their coats and her hat blown away, and Trunks in the center of the crater.
Still glowing, crouched, and with his arms crossed and braced. Mostly unscathed and unhurt thanks to his powering-up, but with definite rips and burns to his clothing. A hole over the knee, wind-sheared rips in his shirt; cloth ripped, but the man unharmed.
Wary, but also with clear concern in his voice. "Morag?"
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The blast knocked her back, off her feet to start with, but she rolled with the impact till the raw strength in her body could take over and force herself into a slide on her boots and one gloved hand. She didn't even think about her own situation, her clothes ripped in several places where friction had shredded them and her fair skin standing out brightly against the dark uniform colors. As soon as she got bracing beneath her, she took off at a run straight back towards him, exchanging cannon for blades as she moved.
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Not that his surprise was obvious as soon as it was clear what she was doing. Up out of the crater, and Trunks charged forward too. The smirk was gone, mostly so he could focus and push her more to her limits as well as his own. Striking out with a high kick once in range, before transitioning to a low punch combo.
Fully expecting her to block or dodge his strike as he did the same. Keeping them each within range of each other. If one moved further away, the other gave chase. Trunks was slowly upping his speed, while keeping the power of his strikes controlled, mostly.
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As she'd lunged in a strike that he'd twisted away from, Trunks reversed himself quickly, hand striking up fast to grab over her own on the blade. Blocking and moving with the motion when she countered with her other blade to grab that hand too. Grip firm and he stepped into her guard.
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She WAS enjoying this. Normally banter like this didn't escape her, even in a spar. Maybe she was getting too relaxed outside of Mor Ardain... but she found herself not minding too much.
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He rarely had people he could spar or train against after all.
"Even for training though, I'm holding back. Unless you'd like to try something new?"
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NOT for any vulnerable regions! She was aiming for his stomach!
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"Like I said--dangerous and never unarmed."
It did nothing else, but inspire a rare moment of mirth and a grin.
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She hadn't thought that would work, but... still, the hope had been there. Fine. She had to try something else. That something else took the form of her pushing up against the grip he had on her blades, then stepping in as she twisted her elbow around straight towards his cheek.
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So he pushed back on her grip in turn and brought up his own knee towards her hip, aiming to take her up and off her balance.
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Green-eyes narrowed and he continued the motion and brought his other leg up, and shoved. Hard. Even without the power and tangle of her leg around his (which would've worked for a normal person), it would've been hard to stay in close with the throw.
Straight up in the air, fast and high.
Which gave Trunks the second to spring back on his hands, and back to his feet in a crouch. And for realization to set in, green eyes widening and a curse bit off.
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No sooner was the half-curse out of his mouth, then Trunks kicked off the ground himself. Flying up--fast--to come from underneath and catch her. Not that Morag was any kind of damsel in distress, it was just easier to catch her that way. One arm around her back and shoulders, the other under her knees, and still with startled green-eyes.
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