A; Monday mid-morning; park and playground [There's a basketball court Lithuania is more excited than she rightly should be, probably, but it's only reflected in the very rapid tail wagging of Laima. Lithuania has to go on a hunt for a basketball, but when she finally gets one, she's quick to put it to use, making baskets easily and occasionally playing some strange game of keep-away with Laima, who is apparently used to playing with basketballs enough to know to try to strike it gently with her nose and not her teeth. Lithuania is surprisingly good at keeping this basketball away from a large wolf dog.
Anyone who she notices approaching will get waved at.] Do you know how to play?
B; Wednesday morning, hotel lobby [Lithuania is sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby with a sword. Just one sword, gleaming as new as the day it was forged, and the look she had on her face approaches reverence as she checks it over for any sign of damage, wear, or age.]
C; Thursday afternoon; near the fire pit [Lithuania has missed the feeling of a sword in her hands. Oh, she never gave the practice up--even when swords became obsolete, she practiced. Even when being caught with a weapon would have resulted in awful punishment, she snuck in sessions in empty rooms or out of the way acres of land. But it's been six weeks without really touching one of her own swords, and years and decades and centuries thinking this particular one lost or melted down. It's only fair to put it through its paces.
She moves with practiced ease through each swing of the sword, moving it as a natural extension of her arms and letting one motion flow into the next. Her feet seem to float through the motions, one-two-three-four, like a dance with sharp steel. It's obvious, here, that she is a woman with a thousand years' experience in war; it is obvious, as well, that in the acts of war she feels the most comfortable. Five-six-seven-eight--she really missed this.]
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[There's a basketball court Lithuania is more excited than she rightly should be, probably, but it's only reflected in the very rapid tail wagging of Laima. Lithuania has to go on a hunt for a basketball, but when she finally gets one, she's quick to put it to use, making baskets easily and occasionally playing some strange game of keep-away with Laima, who is apparently used to playing with basketballs enough to know to try to strike it gently with her nose and not her teeth. Lithuania is surprisingly good at keeping this basketball away from a large wolf dog.
Anyone who she notices approaching will get waved at.] Do you know how to play?
B; Wednesday morning, hotel lobby
[Lithuania is sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby with a sword. Just one sword, gleaming as new as the day it was forged, and the look she had on her face approaches reverence as she checks it over for any sign of damage, wear, or age.]
C; Thursday afternoon; near the fire pit
[Lithuania has missed the feeling of a sword in her hands. Oh, she never gave the practice up--even when swords became obsolete, she practiced. Even when being caught with a weapon would have resulted in awful punishment, she snuck in sessions in empty rooms or out of the way acres of land. But it's been six weeks without really touching one of her own swords, and years and decades and centuries thinking this particular one lost or melted down. It's only fair to put it through its paces.
She moves with practiced ease through each swing of the sword, moving it as a natural extension of her arms and letting one motion flow into the next. Her feet seem to float through the motions, one-two-three-four, like a dance with sharp steel. It's obvious, here, that she is a woman with a thousand years' experience in war; it is obvious, as well, that in the acts of war she feels the most comfortable. Five-six-seven-eight--she really missed this.]