[Training] nature offers a violence

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

Deimos didn’t survive many wars to be bested by someone who’d barely held a sword before.

So while she thought her ploy clever, he’d seen it. He’d viewed it scores of times – in spars and skirmishes, in battles and conflicts, and in his own training grounds. They’d implemented familiar motions again and again, repetitive, muscle memory honed frays and encounters. And it’d be most unwise to think he wouldn’t move; as if he would stand around listless and languid. That’d never been who he was.

He'd expect a multitude of things. Perhaps she should’ve predicted that too.

Because instead of taking the hit, he snorted and maneuvered out of the way, a short and quick shift to the left. Using the opportunity, he kept the rotation of his sword arm going, intending to make a rapid movement towards her ribs.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

Aurelia saw his sword coming too late.

The dull thud of the practice blade hitting her ribs sent a wave of pain through her side, and this time, it stopped her cold. She gasped, backing away instinctively, feeling the weight of the fight settle heavily on her shoulders. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, but something deeper gnawed at her—something that wasn’t just physical exhaustion.

Deimos had barely broken a sweat, his movements fluid, controlled. Every attempt she’d made to outthink or outmaneuver him had fallen flat. Clever tricks, feints, even trying to predict his movements—it hadn’t worked. He’d seen everything coming, and each strike felt like a reminder of just how outmatched she was.

She stepped back again, lowering her sword.

It wasn’t hesitation. It wasn’t a ploy or a moment of recalculating her strategy.

It was surrender.

“I can’t,” she panted, “I can’t keep up with you.”

Her gaze fell to the ground, the sting of admitting defeat bitter on her tongue, but there was no denying the truth of it. She wasn’t ready for this. Not yet. Not by a long shot.

“I thought if I just tried harder, if I kept pushing, I’d eventually get there. But no matter what I do, I can’t—” She stopped herself, teeth gritted against the wave of frustration that threatened to boil over.  "What am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost defeated. “Keep failing until it makes sense?”

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

Truthfully, Deimos didn’t expect the next reaction. Maybe he should’ve; but he also didn’t know all her inner workings, sentiments of arrogance, pride, presumption, or anything of the like. He ceased immediately once she lodged into some surrender form, pulling his sword into his grasp, brow arching, surprised by the bizarre turn of events.

But when the explanations came with all the signs of physical, and potentially mental exertion, he sighed. “Perhaps that is the first issue. This should not be about winning or losing. You are learning.” Had he known she wanted to spar into conquest and glory, he wouldn’t have even humored her prior letter. That hadn’t been the point of the exercise. His rumble took on a more calm and composed distinction, eyeing a few gawkers who immediately vanished from the scene. “You should not be able to keep up with me. You do not have my experience, and I hope you understand that is a good thing.” It meant that she’d missed out on the many horrors of war. “But you have already achieved much in this short spar.” And simply because he’d seen the clever bouts a mile away, didn’t mean others would do the same.

Taking another long and deep breath, he finally glanced back at her quiet and dismal form. He was half-tempted to roll his eyes at the antics, but opted for the more distinguished approach. “I did not realize you believed this was a victory or defeat situation.” Shrugging, because it wasn’t, and he’d never offered the roles as such, the Sword persisted in explanations. “I never exceeded my instructors either. That was the point. Why learn from someone easily trounced?” Unless it was to bolster her ego, and in that case, remained wholly unlikely by his standards. “There has been no failure, for there was nothing to lose, except perhaps opportunity.” Like now, if she would rather wallow in self-loathing. “But we can stop here if you prefer.”

[FIN]

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls