[Training] from this chaos

Unwinding from another patrol with the rest of the soldiers, circumventing and circulating along the Citadel walls, and then back again, had ensured his restless energy had succumbed for a while – heightened senses, alert to anything and everything, maneuvering under power and prowess, but by the time he’d returned to the outskirts of the barracks, his eyes had already cast their wake upon the Academy.

Where he was certain Ru had sequestered herself in – as she’d done seasons and months prior.

Feeling very juvenile, boyish, and irritating, he rolled his shoulders, and snagged some snow from nearby, rolling it into a perfected sphere as he advanced upon the building. Pinpointing the Valkyrie’s office had been relatively easy, he could see her outline near the window, and he simply opted to bide his time. Slow, methodical steps. Determined, stalwart march.

And then hurling the snowball straight into the glass – not even bothering to hide himself, hoping to watch her jump in surprise or launch into annoyance.

Admittedly, the Valkyrie had never envisioned a life behind a desk when imagining her later years, after children and triumph. Triumph was of course more subjective, and most of her avaricious ways had faded in light of Caido's particular brand of cruelty, but the fact is - this was not the path she ever saw for herself.

Teaching. Running a school, even one devoted to the mastery of magic.

Far less elegant and inspiring than her dreams.

She is hard at work with their first lesson plans when the snowball impacts against the window, startling her violently. She half-springs from her desk, shoving it backwards with the force of her thighs rising beneath it, and is already turning with fangs elongated in defensiveness when slitted pupils find Deimos laughing beyond the pane. Her scowl deepens, but there is a clear tick of amusement that begrudgingly follows in its wake, living in the quiver of the corner of her mouth.

Opening the window, she leans halfway out of it, comfortable in her ability to leap from it if the fancy strikes her. [say]"Most children come to the door to ask to play,"[/say] she informs him imperiously, even as her own eyes shine with budding mischief. Moments later she uses her magic like a whip, stirring up the snow with the air around him to try and spray his face with the loose layer on top.

Precision-lined snowballs and matching movements ensured his laughter was damned to echo and reverberate along the outer lining of the Academy’s walls. It might have engulfed to one resounding from deep in his chest, had there been more time, but Ru was there within an instant – and Deimos didn’t say he was relieved to see her not lost amidst doldrums, but it was clear in his ensuing antics.

The insult scarcely bothered him, enough to push a self-deprecating jibe and volley her way. [say]“But I am not like most,”[/say] came on a wrinkled nose and corresponding juvenile makeshifts, features much the same as the cascade of air battered at his face. Rolling his eyes, he reflected and rebounded it back towards her in the same volley, pushing the chilling particles away, flickering them in her direction with corresponding Air incantations, then allowing them to dissipate. [say]“Need a break?”[/say]

He earned her surprise fair and square, and so she does not begrudge him his humor and satisfaction. It keeps the shadows at bay to see him smiling and laughing out in the snow, a vision she always wants to see him portraying. Enzo's words have done much to improve her recently, and even Hotaru is self-aware enough to know that.

[say]"You're special, certainly, though in the more insulting sense,"[/say] she quips back through a grin that slowly grows at his playful needling. Their components are too well matched some days for these attacks to work well, and the buffeting rejection of her revenge doesn't inspire disappointment or frustration as it would with anyone else. His offer makes her roll her eyes to the heavens in relief, shoving the window higher as she lifts a leg to brace against the sill. [say]"Gods, do I,"[/say] she effuses, and gracefully throws herself from the window, easing her descent with her magic instead of her shifts. The ice and frost crunch delightfully beneath her feet, more crackly now in the summer, and she bends to scoop a handful of it into a ball that she immediately throws Deimos' way. Behind him, a small spark of electricity aims for his glutes, hoping to pin him between the two attacks that ensue immediately upon his invitation of engagement.

[say]“I do not know what you mean,”[/say] portrayed in a heightened jawline and false sense of superiority, the Sword made room as she settled into agreement and fled via the window. Snorting, he sought to prepare his own set of volleys and maneuvers when –

The pressing sparks straight to his glutes left a sharp, prickling sensation, and a low growl flickering through his throat. [say]“Really,”[/say] he murmured, as if she was above such motives, or that he wasn’t already seeking out the assemblages of revenge.

Shifting efficiently, even with the pain residing and rampaging down the back of his thighs, he gave a smirk bordering on seditious – and forged a massive snowball. Snagging it from the ground, he utilized his brute strength to simply hurl it in her direction – though not without a surprise of his own – waiting until just the last moment for it to break apart into multiple barrages via water, earth, and air, instead of just one vicious arrangement.

Admittedly, she hadn't exactly anticipated that that would work. Her own eyes go wide with delighted surprise, as if she has been given a gift of great magnitude that she can scarcely believe it was even possible to exist, much less receive. His growled question is merely the cherry on top, and a delighted laugh escapes her, eyes still wondrously large. She'd done it, she'd actually done it - she zapped Deimos right in the ass.

Seconds from jubilant celebration, she is knocked backwards into the snow as in her distraction he launches his own attack, one that hits her full-on with little more than a surprised squeal and the belated raising of her forearms in front of her face. Winded on her back from both the fall and her ensuing laughter, she rustles around with hand and magic alike to get one of her ice spheres free, forsaking her slingshot in favor of lobbing it at Deimos' feet in hopes of the explosive ice inside encasing his legs.

He rolled his eyes at her laughter; perhaps the only credit she’d receive. But it was better to hear the delight than anything else – because he could remember the sobs, despair, melancholy, and everything else as if it were only yesterday.

Deimos was permitted his own bark of mischief as the elemental range ensured she was taken right off her feet. Yet, even with a smug grin, he waited for some sort of repercussion (ah, there it was), in the form of more ice, more rallying volleys. With little hesitation, he snagged at the incantations and returned them back with mastery and power over their wiles – changing them swiftly from shards into droplets, ensuring there was a raining cascade swarming towards her direction. Maybe even overhead. Like her own personal cloud.

He is quite attuned to his air incantations, something Hotaru is well aware of - it comes as easy to him as breathing it seems, despite the menagerie of abilities he holds. This particular tactic is a favorite of his, likely because it's immensely amusing to witness from the other side, so Hotaru is rather well-prepared for it.

Her own air is weaker, but strong enough to create a small dome over her head that keeps at least half of the water at bay while she scoops up snow into her hands to ball quickly and begin pelting at him, one after another. Preferring speed and persistence over accuracy or size. Each assisted with a little extra push of air behind it to aid in their course as she launches them, laughing under her breath all the while as she is sufficiently distracted from work and woes alike.

A vague snort rumbled through, eyes rolling again as she made a barrier against the air and water proportions – with not much more time to amass any other attack when her assault came reeling back. He managed to avoid some of the sudden, rampaging, pelting snowballs, but one hit him directly in the shoulder and left a mark along the furs – before his own were subsequently launched, intentionally aiming for a whitewash along her features.

The booming laughter probably followed and reverberated around the Academy building for few instances more, prior to further and future instigations. [say]“Race you to the market,”[/say] with a cheeky, boyish grin, and all intentions of ensuring she had snagged something to eat while out in the fresh air, and not distracted by melancholy or work.

And if he cheated by flying off immediately, then so be it.

[FIN <3]