Not good enough (OPEN)

Until today, Aras had not realized just how much he failed at left-handed shooting. The precision and control he’d possessed when using his right hand all but disappeared when he swapped sides. He’d practiced so frequently with his right that it had become second nature to him, where he hardly had to think when he was shooting at an unmoving target. At some point, muscle memory took over, and the only thing he had to worry about was aiming.

But switch to the left, and everything immediately became unfamiliar. He’d gotten so used to one way of doing things that changing it up took a severe toll on his performance. The movements that had become habitual were no longer, and he was suddenly forced to re-learn basic things like how to grip the pistol so he could hang onto it without the recoil killing his wrist. It was more than slightly frustrating, and after half a day’s practice he, a sharpshooter for the SEG, was only marginally better than a novice who’d picked up a gun for the first time that day.

His right hand, still bandaged, hung loose at his side. Now that the injury had put him out of commission for a few weeks or more, Aras had realized the importance of ambidexterity in using weapons. He wasn’t going on another mission for a while yet, but until his right hand healed completely, he was pretty fucked if a shifter decided to attack him. Which was the reasoning behind the decision to become at least proficient in left-handed shooting. Which, in turn, was why he was currently embarrassing himself on the practice field, missing the target entirely a good fifty percent of the time. The range master’s expression had morphed from perplexed to concerned to amused throughout the course of the day. The range master recognized Aras after the first few times he’d practiced here and was currently deriving much entertainment at the unprecedented drop in the marksman’s scores. Aras was rather less amused.

The woman practicing on the target next to his didn’t seem to be having much luck, either. She’d been here even longer than he had today, but it looked like she’d finally given up. For now, at least. She’d probably pick the pistol up again soon. The people who joined the SEG weren’t the type to give up easily.

A break sounded nice, however. Aras set his own gun down and turned toward the woman with a shrug and a wry smile. Try and try again, right?



OOC: Don’t mind me jumping in, do you? :)

The woman’s reaction wasn’t a particularly warm one. Polite, yes, but distant. The SEG had a lot of those sorts, didn’t it. They were supposed to be comrades-in-arms, but Aras didn’t often feel that way towards the other soldiers. Now that he’d begun to spend more time at headquarters, he’d made friends among the ranks, but fewer than he would’ve expected. A common goal held them together, but said goal didn’t appear to facilitate camaraderie amongst the soldiers.

He’d never talked to this woman before, though he’d seen her around the base. He’d certainly recognize her if he saw her again, simply because the two of them had been at the range, standing next to each other for the past few hours. He’d gotten several chances to watch her shoot; between rounds, he’d been forced to take a frustratingly long pause to reload with only one fully functional hand. At first, he’d assumed that the woman’s accuracy was suffering because of extenuating circumstances, much like his own case. However, that impression hadn’t lasted long. A few rounds later, it because quite clear that she had very little training with a handgun.

“If you don’t mind me saying—try using both hands, instead of just one. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, and keep your shoulders square.” Aras knew that if she’d been watching his subpar shooting, he must come off as pretentious. Still, explaining to her what he’d been taught years ago might help refresh his memory and help him recall those subtleties and nuances that had since become instinct—for one hand. He essentially had to re-learn everything for the other.



OOC: So I wasn’t sure what Zhi was doing wrong, so I sort of just made it up. XD; Tell me if you want anything changed.

Despite his apparent lack of skill, the woman paused to consider his words. She did as he advised, correcting her stance and bringing up her other hand to support the gun before firing off several rounds at her target. The improvement was slight, but noticeable. With a more proper technique, her group became tighter, though still some ways off-target. At any rate, the woman seemed to be more satisfied with the latest group than any of her previous ones. Lowering her weapon, she turned around and gave him a searching look.

"Do you usually shoot with only your left hand, or has something happened lately?"

Holding up his bandaged hand, Aras shook his head. “The raids happened. I usually use both hands, or my right. So I’m not usually this bad,” he assured her with a good-humored grin.

He extended his good hand, feeling a bit odd that he had to shake hands with his left for the time being. Just another one of those many little inconveniences he never would’ve noticed if Avet hadn’t decided make a chew toy out of his dominant hand. Changing had become a hassle, typing had slowed down to a snail’s pace, and writing legibly had simply become out of the question. How fortunate for him that there were shifters out there to teach him the importance of ambidexterity.

“The name’s Aras Duval.” He supposed the proper thing to do would’ve been to give his rank along with his name, but even though he’d explained himself already, he didn’t exactly want this woman wondering why the SEG recruited such incompetent marksmen.



OOC: Sorry about the delay. Been busy with classes and such lately.

The woman stared at his hand as if it were an entirely foreign object that she had no idea what to do with. Somewhat taken aback by her reaction, Aras was about to lower his hand—it didn’t look like she was in the habit of shaking hands—when she took it hesitantly. She didn’t come off as the timid sort, nor was her grip one that betrayed a shy character, so Aras wasn’t certain why she’d been so unwilling to simply shake hands. And when she introduced herself, he thought he detected a slight unsteadiness in her voice that wasn’t there before. No-one would ever call him intimidating, so why was this woman suddenly acting as if he were?

“Did you get the demon who messed up your hand?"

Demon? This wasn’t the first time he’d ever heard of a shapeshifter referred to as such, but the term was usually used by the superstitious and parents trying to scare their children into submission. (Eat your peas, or the demons will come to get you! And the like.) It wasn’t a word the SEG used. The shapeshifters were too real, too much of a concrete, factual threat for the soldiers to think of them as something so… occult.

“Um, yes. He was captured.” Not by Aras, technically, but he could spare her the details. No need to embarrass himself further in front of a new acquaintance. She was an odd one, but it would be rude to ask her why her demeanor had suddenly changed, or why she was acting so strange. Coming from someone who knew a certain Reyes Ando, that Aras thought this Zhi Ranka strange meant something.

“Why did you call them demons?” Rude to ask her directly, at least.



OOC: Um. There is no reason why this is so late. Actually, there are several, but you probably don’t want to hear a lengthy explanation. :P