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+---- Thread: [o] Stepping off the sidelines (/showthread.php?tid=11982)
Stepping off the sidelines - Marcus - 09-01-2025
Marcus had been to the barracks before, though never like this. As a boy he’d come with his bow, loosing arrows at straw targets set up along the wall while the guards drilled in formation. He remembered watching from the edges, wide-eyed, as soldiers sparred with blades and shields, magic and shifts, their strikes echoing off stone.
But he wasn’t here to watch. Not anymore.
The clash of sparring rang from the courtyard beyond, drawing him forward. When he stepped through the wide doors, the familiar grounds stretched out before him. A pair of guards were locked in combat at the center, while others leaned on spears, waiting their turn. Marcus rolled his shoulders, steadying himself. He’d never stepped into that circle before. His training had always been quieter, more distant, made for healing and not for fighting.
But he wanted to learn.
RE: Stepping off the sidelines - Theea - 09-01-2025
I probably shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here. I don’t know anyone. I’ve never even set foot this far into the Palace—but my nosiness has a habit of dragging me where it shouldn’t, and today is no exception.
I slip into the training grounds anyway, keeping to the edge while the clang of steel and the shuffle of boots echo off stone and snow. A pair of guards circle in the center, blades flashing; I can’t help bouncing on the balls of my feet, fingers finding the pommel of my new shortsword. It sits right at my hip like it was meant to be there. No oversized jacket today—this one fits. Fingerless gloves. Pants that actually taper where they should. Learning how to dress feels like learning a new kind of armor.
When I spot Marcus—familiar from the supply lodge with Damien—I brighten and drift his way, keeping my profile small so none of the “you don’t belong here” types clock me too fast. I slide in at his side with a conspiratorial grin, eyes flicking to his weapon and back.
[say]“Marcus, right?”[/say] I tip my chin toward the sparring ring. [say]“You here to fight too? I’m hunting someone to test this thing on”—[/say] I pat the shortsword with shameless pride, [say]“—before I go and knock Damien silly with it.”[/say]
RE: Stepping off the sidelines - Marcus - 09-01-2025
Marcus hadn’t expected to hear his name, so when he turned, the sight of Theea tugged a genuine smile from him before he could think to hide it. Relief warmed his chest, dissolving the nerves that had coiled there since he stepped through the barracks doors.
[say]"Yeah,”[/say] Marcus said almost dumbly, shifting some on his heels. [say]"Looking to get some experience under my belt."[/say] His cerulean gaze caught on the way she patted her shortsword. It made his lips twitch into a grin of his own. [say]“Looks good on you. The sword, I mean.”[/say] He suddenly busied himself adjusting this scarf, pretending not to notice the warmth creeping across his ears. He cleared his throat. [say]“If you want to try it out, I’d be glad to spar with you.”[/say]
He gave a small, almost boyish shrug, the corner of his mouth lifting. [say]“We could keep it simple. First clean strike wins?”[/say] His eyes lingered on her a moment too long before he forced himself to glance back toward the sparring ring, where steel still clanged against steel.
RE: Stepping off the sidelines - Theea - 09-01-2025
His compliment lands like a warm spark, and I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face. I notice the bloom of color at his ears and decide, mercifully, to pretend I don’t.
[say]“Thanks,”[/say] I say instead, patting the hilt. [say]“Sparring sounds great. Daggers are my thing, so… new toy, new tricks.”[/say]
I tilt my head and my black braid slips off my shoulder with the motion. His eyes are a deep, saturated blue; mine are glacial and bright, and for a heartbeat we just… meet there. Then I nod toward a quieter edge of the arena and pad that way.
The ground looks clear until my boot tests it—packed snow, slick as glass. I shift my weight, scuffing for purchase, rolling my ankles to find the give. Perfect. I glance back, a sharp little smile tugging at my mouth.
[say]“First clean hit,”[/say] I confirm, chin tipping toward the space between us. [say]“Nice and simple.”[/say] A quick wink over my shoulder. [say]“And if the ground’s slippery, that’s just more fun, right?”[/say]
I square up with a loose guard, blade low and ready, knees soft to ride the slide. Breath ghosts in front of me; my fingers flex around the leather wrap.
[say]“You want the first move, Marcus?”[/say]
RE: Stepping off the sidelines - Marcus - 09-22-2025
Marcus hesitated for a moment when she asked if he wanted the first move. His hands flexed at his sides, suddenly aware of how empty they were. He shot a quick glance over to the racks of weapons off the side of the ring.
[say]“Hold on,”[/say] he muttered, half to himself, and trotted over to the line of practice weapons stacked against the stone. Spears, staves, blunted blades—all worn from years of drills. His fingers hovered over the hafts, indecisive, before settling on a spear. The wood was nicked and the iron head dulled, but the weight felt solid when he lifted it. Familiar, even.
It reminded him of his father’s—longer, heavier, and alive with fire when wielded. That weapon had always seemed impossibly large when Marcus was younger, spitting arcs of flame into the sky during hunts and battles. This practice spear was nothing like that, stripped of power and glory, but Marcus held it a little straighter all the same. If nothing else, it was a shape he recognized. It was the only type of weapon he had even held, as he considered his bow a tool more than a weapon.
Turning back toward Theea and closing the distance once more, he gave a short nod, planting the butt of the spear into the packed snow to steady himself. He stepped forward, boots crunching and sliding slightly on the slick surface. For a second he wavered, then let the spear’s length guide him into motion. He swept low first, the haft dragging just above the ground to test her footing, then angled the tip up in a quick jab toward her side. His motions were quick and unpracticed, rough and untrained.
[1/4]
RE: Stepping off the sidelines - Theea - 10-02-2025
He heads for the racks and I track him without moving, trying to read the set of his shoulders, the way his hands hover before they settle. Spear. Familiar, then. Good reach, rough grip.
When he comes back I square up again, knees soft. His sweep skims in—easy step over, heel kissing ice. The jab follows and I twist with it, feel the cool rush of iron pass my coat, braid flicking my collar. Momentum carries me through; I let it. I pivot on the slick, slide half a step and bring the flatside of my shortsword across toward his shoulder—clean, controlled, training-true, no edge.
Breath ghosts between us; I grin.
[say]“Nice choice.”[/say] I chirp, eyes flicking up to those saturated blues as the blade whistles in. [say]“Where’re you from, Marcus?”[/say]
RE: Stepping off the sidelines - Marcus - 10-11-2025
She slipped into motion like it was second nature, light on her feet, weight shifting with an ease. Where he braced against every patch of ice, she seemed to flow over it, boots skimming the surface instead of fighting it. The shortsword swung and slapped flat across his shoulder, and the look in Theea's eyes told him she trusted her body more than the blade itself, but at least knew its limits.
She looked alive in motion—focused, bright, a spark burning against the cold courtyard. The admiration that surged through him was sudden and startlingly clear. She moved like the foxes that they caught and relocated for Damien. And he was steady, deliberate, more earthbound in his movements. An oak compared to a reed. He had to work just to follow her footwork. But he did. He turned his head and tucked his chin, bringing the butt end of the spear back up with his dominant hand. [say]"Halo, born and bred. Generations deep."[/say] He grunted, then used the horizontal position of the spear now to push against her and hopefully knock her back, off balance. Disturb her elegant and quick movements.
[2/4]