She watched her niece scramble from the fence with a faint sense of pride that hid behind her eyes. Salvia was a smart girl. She knew that she would grow into a smart woman as well — how well she did that, however, depended on more than her teachings. If she gained her mother's disdain for the Gods her father possessed, it would ruin her. If she over-reached in her desires, it would leave her the same. Tlantli was proud, but concerned, for the daughter of her non-sister and the dark Arbiter she had slowly come to feel respect and fear for.
Her own posture was more relaxed than the stance of the girl she was teaching, who bent her knees and lifted her hands in a way that Tlantli herself didn't use entirely. The Crone's weight shifted toward the ground as fire eyes studied how her niece stood. "Very good. Protect what ess importahnt." The face, the stomach, the chest. Places that their kind utilized against their prey — and each other, given the chance. Her fingers flexed and curled into fists, raising to mimic those of the pupil to even the odds. She shot out orders, tips, in Spanish, showing by example before giving Salvia a chance to test things on her own, waiting with patience and alertness as she anticipated the false attack.
<style>
.tlantli-supersimple {width:85%;font-size:12px;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:-.1px;word-spacing:.5px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;}
.tlantli-supersimple p {text-indent:40px;}
.tl-ooc {font-style:italic;line-height:12px;}
</style>
[/html]