THE REBEL PATH / lucia

[COLT MADISON.]

[align=center][div style="width: 370px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.4; color: black;"]— It was early in the morning; the sun had only risen an hour ago, though it was tucked away behind a blanketing of pale gray clouds. A gentle frozen rain dusted the mountainside - an obvious sign that spring was coming, considering that it was not falling as snow. Colt found himself on the bank of a small, trickling stream, not far from the lodge itself. He'd positioned himself in a combat stance, his sharp brown gaze glued to his own reflection in the water below. For a few minutes, he would shadowbox, watching his form in his reflection and making corrections as needed. After a bit, he would drop to the ground and rep out around fifty pushups. Once that was done, he was back up again, shadowboxing once more. Rinse, wash, repeat - over and over, until sweat was beading on his forehead despite the cold.

Combat training was quite the stress relief for Colt. That might have come as a surprise, considering he'd been forced to train for hours on end, day in and day out, since he was a toddler. Most would think that he'd be tired of it, itching for a break. But it was quite the opposite, actually; he enjoyed the routine, the familiarity. It brought him comfort, let him block out his thoughts for a little while and take out his aggression in a healthy way. He didn't have the same resources at the lodge that he did in the Ring, but that was alright - he still enjoyed the training. Besides, he needed to keep his skills sharp.

After his fifth round of shadowboxing, the mercenary would pause, letting out a breath and allowing his muscles to relax. With a sigh, he sat down on a nearby boulder, grabbing his water bottle from beside him and taking a long drink. He would rest for a few minutes before it was time for his second cycle.

[truce.]

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Lucia was resilient, but a woman who never quite had the opportunity to showcase her capabilities. The Stirling’s patriarchy had been a long-standing tradition for generations, all of which hindered the women from getting to truly show their worth and be as appreciated in the family business. But why should the men have all of the fun when they’d often lack the strategic intelligence to manage a company without being guided by their egos and fury-fueled testosterone? Lucia could only quirk a brow begrudgingly as she’d silently observe the series of mistakes that her male counterparts would make in the name of the Stirling enterprise.

She had what it took to be just as good, if not better than the men in her family — she was sure of it. And, as she walked Ripley around the territory in the early hours of the morning, an idea cropped up as she noticed Colt some distance away, training hard by himself. Brows bunched together, looking over her shoulder as if she expected her family to be breathing down her neck, before she approached with her arms tight across her chest as Colt had a moment's break.

❝ Where’d you learn how to do all of that? ❞ She enquired with curiosity, lips curled downwards as she went to lean her side against a tree trunk. It reminded her of the sort of exercises that William was obsessed with doing to maintain his toned figure, but surely Colt looked to have years of experience looking at his good form and stamina. Nothing that her brother could have taught him in such a short space of time.

With a moment of hesitation, Lucia shrugged half-heartedly before she challenged, ❝ I bet I could do it, too. ❞ Lips quirked playfully, glancing over her shoulder again before looking back at Colt and wagging her brows. ❝ Teach me your ways? ❞ 

[COLT MADISON.]

[align=center][div style="width: 370px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.4; color: black;"]— "Where'd you learn how to do all of that?" Colt blinked and lifted his head as Lucia approached him, breathing still heavy, sweat dripping down his forehead and off the end of his nose. He lifted his eyebrows slightly, his chest tightening at her question. It was an easy one to tiptoe around, sure - he could give any old vague answer - but he still hated getting questions about his past in general. Hated having to lie right to his groupmates' faces. He wished that would just leave it alone.

He took another swig of his water, letting out a breath. "The group I grew up in was real big on combat training," he would tell her which - technically wasn't a lie. "I've had some good teachers." Yeah, professional mercenaries were pretty good teachers - especially when messing up had dire consequences. They expected perfection from him and the other trainees, nothing less - even when they were very young children.

"I bet I could do it, too. Teach me your ways?" Colt's face lit up at Lucia's request; he was more than happy to pass on some of his combat knowledge to a friend. He noticed that she seemed guarded, closed-off - like she was hesitant about asking to train with him. Had Colt known the reason why - that her family didn't train women to fight - he would be incredibly confused. After all, he'd grown up training side by side with girls and boys alike, doing the exact same exercises, completing the same jobs. The concept of women being frailer and less capable was not one that had ever crossed Colt's mind; many of the strongest mercenaries in the Ring were women.

At her request, he got back up to his feet, smiling. "Yeah, sure. I've never been much of a teacher myself, but I can give it a shot." He rolled out his shoulders, looking around. "What do you wanna focus on? Hands-only combat? We could do some stuff with knives, too."