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+----- Thread: [Training] water we going to do with you? (/showthread.php?tid=13054)
water we going to do with you? - Nova - 07-25-2026
After her session with Marcus, Nova's still itching to train. She'd done fine - of course she had, she's awesome - but it doesn't relieve the aching need to do better. She can't sleep, can't eat, can't leave knowing that nothing has truly changed - that she hasn't changed. She doesn't feel any different, and she hasn't proven anyone wrong. So Nova does what she always does when nothing seems to be going her way.
She shows off.
Standing in the middle of the ring, she stares down the training dummy, magic coursing unfiltered through her veins. Dressed in a starry purple sweater and tie-dye rainbow leggings with pink strands in her hair, the scowl she wears looks almost adorable, pinching at her features like a toddler with a pout. But the subtle wind in her hair and the icy glimmer of her fingertips hint at a deeper power that would silence most laughter.
Clenching her jaw, she flicks a hand towards the dummy. In a matter of heartbeats, ice forms into glittering shards that fly lightning quick through the air to imbed themselves into the hay-filled chest of the imaginary person, the frozen water spreading to encapsulate the torso.
But it's not enough.
She swipes another hand, clearing the ice into water before slashing it back towards the dummy in arcs of ice, ripping through the fabric with a loud tearing sound. The water evaporates into thin air like it had never existed, but her frown persists, obviously still displeased with her performance.
RE: water we going to do with you? - Icarus - 07-25-2026
Icarus had gone to the training grounds with a sword in hand, prepared to unleash his precise and already practically-perfect sword forms on an unsuspecting dummy, planning on letting the muscle memory control his moves until he was aching from the strain and drenched in a healthy sheen of sweat. The chip on his shoulder was aching, the hours spent in the ring dedicated to the singular purpose of being better, of working to defend, to make Deimos proud. Wait, no, not that last one, he swears. Icarus shakes his head, droplets of sweat flicking from his curls as he tries to chase away that intruder. He's about to redouble his efforts and hoist his sword once more when he sees shattering shards of ice absolutely decimate a training dummy, disemboweling its poor dummy guts until hay scatters on the floor.
Icarus' breath catches in his quest. For all his water magic mastery, he's never had the strength to use it as brutally as this stranger does, never twisted the water at his beck and call until it crystallizes into a weapon under his very touch. It's a reactive magic to him, defensive and supportive, but it could never replace the sword in his hands. What would it mean he could conjure such weaponry out of thin air and command it to his whims? Still, this woman's mastery is excellent, and as much as she scares Icarus (even with her sparkling smatters of freckles across her face), he wants to know how she gained such ease with her magic.
[say]"Excuse me,"[/say] Icarus calls, stepping forward, still a respectful distance away but not calling from the other side of the room. [say]"How did you learn how to do that?"[/say]
RE: water we going to do with you? - Nova - 07-25-2026
Nova lets out a huff of breath thick with magic, tiny ice crystals forming in the air before her eyes. Her eyebrows lower, scrutinizing the ribbons of fabric and patches of fallen straw. She'd much rather the dummy where obliterated, strewn across the arena in tiny shards of frozen wood and burlap. But alas, it still stands, mocking her.
About to unleash another barrage of ice and fury, Nova raises a hand only to pause when a voice floats towards her. It's soft and polite, at odds with the simmering discontent in her chest, at odds with the gruff voices of most soldiers she's run into here. And when she turns to look, she's met with a similarly unlikely appearance in a young man. The sword he carries appears comfortable in his hand, like he rarely goes anywhere without it, his movements suggesting he might not even know he's still holding it. His hair is slick with sweat, eyes alight with intrigue, but he's almost... timid?
It's surprising, her brows furrowing before he even asks the question. [say]"Use magic?"[/say] she asks, assuming he must not have any of his own if he needs to ask her. After all, it's not necessarily something she'd 'learned' to do as much as something she was born to do.
Considering that point, Nova taps a finger against her chin, tilting her head as the frustrations fall to the back of her mind. [say]"Well, I got it from my mom."[/say]
RE: water we going to do with you? - Icarus - 07-26-2026
Icarus winces at himself for her obvious answer. He should have been more specific with his question, but he wasn't used to having to ask specific questions. As a soldier, he answers them in short, clipped 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' and putting his body to the task with the single-minded determination that was expected of him. He cannot blame this woman -- Nova, he thinks? He had heard rumors around the barracks of someone staying in Halo with dangerous grace and glittery on her face -- for the obvious, playful tilt of her head as she answers the question he asked.
Sheathing his sword, he takes another hesitant step forward. [say]"Sorry. I didn't ask that right. I meant..."[/say] He makes a small gesture to the standing corpse of the training dummy, the straw hanging out of it and strewn on the floor next to it. [say]"How'd you learn to use it like that?"[/say] She wields it like he wields his sword, a dangerous extension of his body, so innate and instinctual it didn't look like she was conjuring as much as just reaching for something that was already there.
His wrist twists by his side and he works up a thin tendril of water, letting it weave and snake around his whirling wrist. It's a thin, whirling thing, unobtrusive and even gentle as it moves around his wrist. Nothing like the shards of ice Nova crystalized and sent hurtling towards the unsuspecting training dummy. [say]"I've got it too,"[/say] He says quietly, perhaps a little obtusely as the proof of his statement winds around his wrist. [say]"But I don't use it like you do."[/say]
RE: water we going to do with you? - Nova - 07-26-2026
Nova can understand anyone's awe and disbelief when faced with such brilliance, but her head remains tilted, as if she's trying to explain how to breathe. It's not something she's ever had to study or learn, pulling magic and elements from the air like they've always existed there, waiting to answer her call. It hasn't always been as strong, and yet, she's naturally known how to control it from the beginning, the only limit being her imagination.
Shrugging her shoulders, Nova explains, [say]"I've always just been able to do it."[/say] Her dad had given her some tips on integrating her magic into other attacks like punches, but the raw, unfiltered power has never ceased to flood forth when she needs it.
The young man sheathes his sword, apparently deciding that she's his new focus rather than whatever training he'd been doing before. When the delicate tendril of water coils around his wrist, she begins to understand why.
Her chin lifts, sunlight catching star-freckled cheeks when he compliments her. A small smile grows, the insecurities and frustrations losing ground when pitted against her ego. [say]"That's because I'm me,"[/say] she says. Of course he can't use his magic like she does. Nova might not know much, but she knows [say]"No two pieces of glitter fall the same and no two snowflakes are identical. You have to use it like you."[/say]
As if she hasn't just dropped the wisest advice she's ever spoken, Nova flashes him a bright smile, excitement sparking in her eyes. [say]"I could help you practice if you want."[/say]
RE: water we going to do with you? - Icarus - 07-27-2026
Huh. Icarus had never thought about it that way. His magic was his, had never known a time where he couldn’t do it, but he’d always shirked the responsibility of using it out of fear of what he could do with it. But he didn’t have to. Just as Nova wields it as something sharp, an offensive slash against a world who wanted to hurt her, maybe Icarus could use it for his means.
Her offer sends a jolt of thrill and utter fear through his bones, the wicked slashes of the training dummy still fresh in his mind and the hay strewing across the floor like fresh-spilled blood. If he got graciously injured during training the company would never let him hear the end of it, and he could guarantee Deimos would never let him out of the barracks ever again.
Still, his offer sparkled at him like the freckles glittering across her face. His fingers itches for something he couldn’t name, to try and use the advice she had bestowed upon him. Pushing his damp curls out of his face, he ties his hair back in a secure ponytail and inches his feet shoulder-width apart into a secure fighting stance.
[say]”I’d appreciate that,”[/say] He says quietly, as if Nova had handed him something grand and expensive and very breakable. Conjuring up a more water, dual tendrils of writing streams circle his hands, shining and cold. They look like shackles, almost, the way he conjures them around twisting wrists, and he waits for Nova to instruct him as she sees fit.