*Early/mid sunday morning*

[soldier_blade]

 Some women studied dance, Sonya..studied combat, and decades of working alongside a collective group of men (soldiers and civilians) meant she had a fair number of basic skills under her belt. In her opinion, one of the best ways to know a person was one-on-one sparing.

One such style was from her good friend and ally, Kenshi. His preferred weapon wasn't any firearm, but the japanese Katana, and in the rare downtime they had together, once and awhile she agreed to spend a few rounds against him as a sparing partner. Doing so always meant going up against him in sword fighting. While she doubted she'd ever have his level of skill, by now she liked to think she could hold her own due to his teachings. The katana still wasn't her preferred weapon, but as a form of meditation and movement, she could appreciate the various forms to move with it.

That morning saw her somewhere between the lake and the forest, wooden training sword in hand, and going through the motions of a kata. Swinging and parrying against invisible opponents, she forced herself not to focus on home, on wondering what was going on-there was little point to that, little in worrying about what she couldn't control. She could, however, control and go through the motions of her form.

If there was anyone watching her, she didn't notice as she went through the kata, her focus and mind clear of all except where her sword moved and how her feet were placed. A kata wasn't a dance, but the way she moved, one would be hard pressed to see the difference.

Finally, she stopped, the wooden sword set infront of her, before she was even aware she was being watched.

(no subject)

[works_in_space]

Jim is out for a walk. He might visit the stables, he might not. Some days are just meant for walking. And walking is something that you don't get to do on a starship.

He makes his way around the lake on a pretty day, and takes the time to not think for once.

[ooc: in the mood for old Kirk after seeing nuKirk and liking him in ST Beyond.]

Sunday evening by the Caribbean beach

[cook_the_rude]

 Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting on a large towel or blanket at the Caribbean beach, with a picnic hamper and an iThinggie docking station looking like a retro portable radio playing baroque music from the New World.

Not far away, a small rowing boat is tied up on a fallen tree-trunk by a long rope, swaying gently in the surf.

The sun is nearing the horizon, and if this was a painting, it would be utterly disqualified for being unrealistic and kitschy.



[[OOC: There is a plot point to this, but everybody is welcome.]]