06-10-2009, 12:03 AM
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Nice!
The moments they stayed in that pose seemed to stretch on forever and the boy's body felt like it had almost turned to stone. He was as unmoving as a statue as he stood there, holding the tip of his sword to her. Even at her smile he didn't not completely relax, though his eyes lost some of that fire. But then she released her grip on his other arm and his muscles relaxed. A breathe expelled from him that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It had only be a test, a kind of lesson. As she moved away he dropped his sword and rested the weapon on the ground for a moment. Haven gave her a crooked smile. "You had me worried for a second there." But that surprise and worry had struck that lesson home hard. He could never let his guard down, even when he thought he had achieved some sort of small victory.
As Cwmfen retrieved her sword the Aatte youth took deep breaths to regain his composure. This wasn't for the faint of heart. He needed to be strong. For himself, but especially for those he protected. He needed to harden himself for the world of combat (though he didn't want to harden himself in social interactions, he didn't want to lose his identity). He nodded at her words. He would need to work on brawling with his teeth and claws as well. He would prefer fighting with the sword, but it would be necessary for him to know how to fight without it as well. As she had taught him, he needed to be prepared for anything. He watched as she raised her blade above her head and then gracefully brought it down through the empty air. The pupil listened to her words, storing them deep inside him as he had before.
Haven followed suit, raising his longsword above his head with both hands. He did his best to copy her movement, bringing the blade down in a slow and steady arch. She breathed out each time she brought her arms down and he followed that cue. He tried to think of it as if his arms were a lever that pushed the air from him as they moved downward. The number she gave was daunting, but he didn't doubt for a moment that it was true. Practice was the key. Without practice all the courage in the world would count for nothing. Even when she stopped he continued to bring his sword down in that steady motion. His mind focused on the movements of the blade and of his body, trying to memorize everything that seemed of some importance.
The moments they stayed in that pose seemed to stretch on forever and the boy's body felt like it had almost turned to stone. He was as unmoving as a statue as he stood there, holding the tip of his sword to her. Even at her smile he didn't not completely relax, though his eyes lost some of that fire. But then she released her grip on his other arm and his muscles relaxed. A breathe expelled from him that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It had only be a test, a kind of lesson. As she moved away he dropped his sword and rested the weapon on the ground for a moment. Haven gave her a crooked smile. "You had me worried for a second there." But that surprise and worry had struck that lesson home hard. He could never let his guard down, even when he thought he had achieved some sort of small victory.
As Cwmfen retrieved her sword the Aatte youth took deep breaths to regain his composure. This wasn't for the faint of heart. He needed to be strong. For himself, but especially for those he protected. He needed to harden himself for the world of combat (though he didn't want to harden himself in social interactions, he didn't want to lose his identity). He nodded at her words. He would need to work on brawling with his teeth and claws as well. He would prefer fighting with the sword, but it would be necessary for him to know how to fight without it as well. As she had taught him, he needed to be prepared for anything. He watched as she raised her blade above her head and then gracefully brought it down through the empty air. The pupil listened to her words, storing them deep inside him as he had before.
Haven followed suit, raising his longsword above his head with both hands. He did his best to copy her movement, bringing the blade down in a slow and steady arch. She breathed out each time she brought her arms down and he followed that cue. He tried to think of it as if his arms were a lever that pushed the air from him as they moved downward. The number she gave was daunting, but he didn't doubt for a moment that it was true. Practice was the key. Without practice all the courage in the world would count for nothing. Even when she stopped he continued to bring his sword down in that steady motion. His mind focused on the movements of the blade and of his body, trying to memorize everything that seemed of some importance.