Luciana felt her lips stretch in a grim smile as her blow actually landed. However, she was tired from the exertion already. That, plus the triumph from her victory caused her to drop her guard for a few crucial seconds.
So she instinctively glanced upward at the dragonling's cry. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd done, and she dropped her gaze immediately, but the damage was already done.
Amaris' swing was already almost completed by the time the Hammer tried to twist out of the way. So the blow hit her 'good' shoulder, in what would've been a crippling strike if they'd been going all out. As it was, she grunted. Then she held up her left hand, palm out, as she lowered her weapon to the ground.
[say]"Good match. You bested me at the end there."[/say] Rubbing at her various injuries, she jerked her chin at the mace the Blade fell. [say]"Any suggestions for improvements? Balance, length, weight?"[/say]
A final swing, a final connection, and victory was reached. The Blade was satisfied, the sensation rolling through the bond as Dramyrth crooned a pleased note above them - he was very pleased indeed, happily crediting himself with the win even if it was his bondmate who wore the bruises from the effort.
[say]"Good match,"[/say] nodding, she agreed with the sentiment, before considering the weapon in her hand with a critical eye. She shifted her weight carefully, the bruises making her a bit tender, but still perfectly capable of walking and testing the weight of the mace.
[say]"It forces you into close quarters and is a bit cumbersome,"[/say] she delivered with a tone that spoke 'all business'. [say]"But I cannot deny that upon impact, it would be devastating."[/say] Holding the weapon out straight before her like she might when checking a sword's straightness, she waited until her arm was shaking with the effort of holding the weight (which wasn't terribly long, given the amount of exertion she'd just done), before lowering it once more.
[say]"Greater reach might provide slightly more leverage,"[/say] she suggested, before offering it back to the Hammer. [say]"Would a hilt with adjustable length be possible?"[/say]
Resting the head of her weapon on the ground, Luciana nodded at Amaris' words about the bout. However, the Hammer was quiet as the Blade assessed the mace. Frowning at the other woman's words, the smith rubbed at her arm. [say]"I can make something longer for sure. Though at that point you might as well use a staff."[/say]
Scratching under her chin, her brow furrowed. [say]"I could probably make something adjustable. But it would be a bitch to do, and impossible to do it during a fight, because I'd have to lock it in place, basically."[/say] Hefting her own weapon, she examined it, running her hands along the shaft.
Perhaps it was her own constant sense of internal self-doubt that made her sensitive to the Hammer's comments, made her feel like even though they were just discussing something as innocuous as changing the design of weapons, her opinion was unworthy. But Amaris tightly schooled her expression, maintaining the air of seriousness, of post-spar adrenaline, of a practiced weapons-user offering insight into ways she'd like a particular weapon to function.
[say]"It needn't be too much longer,"[/say] the Blade clarified, worried she had not been clear enough with her words. [say]"Just a few inches - no more than a hand's width."[/say] She was mildly disappointed that it would seem unlikely to be adjustable in battle, but then the Blade wasn't sure she could envision herself using it in battle. [say]"I trust you to know the limitations."[/say] she shrugged, before offering a small smile. Dramyrth promptly landed upon her shoulders, gently to mind the fatigue and bruises the spar left upon her. He purred quietly to his bondmate, but gave an air of over-protectiveness otherwise, sharp golden eyes focussing on the weapon-maker.
[say]"Let me know if you need me, or one of the Dragoons, to test anything again."[/say] Idly, she scratched at the dragon's chin, pulsing a quiet sense of gratitude to him across the bond they shared. Returning the weapon to the woman, she gave a nod before turning to make her departure from the training grounds, to metaphorically lick her wounds, and perhaps scheme to ask a god about weapons that could carry fire along the length of their blade.
--
Fin! Thanks Crooks!
