[Training] Sharpen your knife

We are all stardust

Zen needed a break from the crowded Citadel. Halo was proving to be a fascinating region, filled with eccentric but genuine people. He quite liked it. Even so, the noise was a bit much compared to the quiet hum of stars that he was used to. The Demi-god had procured a few throwing knives and decided that a bit of target practice was just what he needed.

Entering the Greenwing, he navigated through the trees, ducking lower branches and listening to the sounds of the forest. Zen soon stumbled upon a break in the trees, beside a rushing creek. It's melodic and consistent sound was just what he needed. Taking out three of his knives, he placed then down on a stone and chose a tree a few meters away. With his first knife in hand, the Demi-good took aim. He wasn't sure what he was doing, simply mimicking what he'd seen a solider do as he passed the barracks.

As he aimed for the tree's center and threw the blade, it hit the tree. But the hilt was what connected the instead of sticking, the knife fell to the ground. Reaching for the next knife, Zen twirled it, trying to figure out how to adjust his grip.

Noah

Reflections of the cosmos and the passage of time

Zenith

Noah

That's the price you pay
Leave behind your heart and cast away

Noah walked with steady strides, the voidblood drying black on his coat, the weight of the hunt behind him. The Greenwing whispered—leaves twitching, distant birdsong—but the stream ahead sang clear and familiar. Home wasn’t far now. Noah listened carefully, unwilling to be caught by surprise by another void creature. The herd of luxere had been interrupted by several void-touched bucks, and after bringing them down he headed towards his lodge with disappointment ringing through him. He wanted to add some fresh luxere to his stash, but the void ruined that desire for today.

The demigod stepped into the clearing, eyes already on the trail that led back to his cabin. Then he stopped. Someone stood near the edge of the trees, where the light thinned. He heard the singing and the thunk of a knife being thrown. He narrowed his eyes, watching the stranger. Not corrupted. Stepping within hearing distance to the stranger, Noah informed him, ”You’re awfully calm out here for the amount of void creatures stalking around.”

Just another product of today
Rather be the hunter than the prey

Table base by Skylark

We are all stardust

Zen's grip on his knife tightened as he heard an unfamiliar voice. He hadn't heard the hunter coming and his jaw ticked at the dangerous mistake. Silver eyed scanned the man, identifying him quickly from the younger Demi-god's time in the stars. Noah Olson. Vi's.

Internally, Zen relaxed but his posture and expression settled on neutral. Turning his eyes away from Noah, he adjusted his grip one last time and threw the knife. Unlike before, the blade hit just off-center of the trunk, sinking deeply into the tree's flesh. Glancing back at the man, stars formed in the air. Blue and purple swirling into two words. (I am.) It certainly was dangerous out here. He'd heard the calls of void-infected creatures on the wind, and it had only strengthened his resolve to improve his strength.

Reflections of the cosmos and the passage of time

Zenith

Noah

That's the price you pay
Leave behind your heart and cast away

The flicker caught his attention and he felt his spine stiffen some. The words hung in the air—blue and violet, curling like breath in winter. He read then quickly, eyebrows lifting and scrunching his forehead beneath his hood. Divine magic, no question.

He watched the starlight fade with a flicker of curiosity, and then settle to something more solid: recognition. Safrin’s touch lingered in magic like that—elegant, celestial, unflinching. Noah knew it well. She was his patron’s herald, after all. Her's was the sort of power you bowed your head to. “Do the stars always talk for you?” he asked, voice level but laced with scrutiny. Could he speak? He let his gaze settle on the stranger. There was something in the way he stood—coiled restraint, calm as if forged under pressure—was he a star?

The knife landed off-center this time. Not a miss, but not deliberate either. Something in the stranger had shifted. Had the stranger recognized him as the demigod scrutinized and speculated the man's origins? He let his eyes move from the stranger to the knives in the tree, then back. He took the chance. If he were her's, he would understand. "The void doesn’t care how bright you burn.” He lifted his hand to gesture towards the knives at the trees, "That'll help. If only a little."

Just another product of today
Rather be the hunter than the prey

Table base by Skylark

We are all stardust

Zen studied Noah's face before responding with more stars. (When I command them to do so.) The swirls of color and flickering stars were his. An echo of his mother's power and the divine energy that had crafted him. Saying that they did as he 'wished' would have been downplaying it. Which the younger Demi-god saw no need to do in front of his peer.

Noah seemed to have caught on as Zen picked up another knife. (It doesn't.) He'd have to grow stronger to the point that 'burning' was an insult. Zen needed to decimate and ruin their enemies. Whether it be the Void, those who disrespected his mother, or some other hidden adversary.

Taking a moment of consideration, Zen handed one of the knives to Noah, an invitation. (A little is a start.) The younger Demi-god refused to focus solely on his magic. It was his greatest strength, and a deep source of pride, but no doubt he'd face enemies that it proved insufficient or ineffective against. He needed tactics, alternative means of reaching his goals. Knives and hand-to-hand combat had been two alternative pathways that Zen chosen to pursue. At least for now.

Reflections of the cosmos and the passage of time

Zenith

Noah

That's the price you pay
Leave behind your heart and cast away

This one before him was interesting—controlled, young but already carved from something older. Noah didn’t trust easily, but he recognized steel when he saw it. Still, curiosity wasn’t reason enough to linger. The wind had shifted. He could feel it in the snow, the silence between trees. He couldn’t stay here, he needed to head back to Snowcloak and then eventually back to his lodge. He slid the knife bcak to the other man with a nod—acknowledgment and farewell. “Another time,” he said, already turning. No pace wasted. The stars could speak later. Right now, he had more to do.

FIN

Just another product of today
Rather be the hunter than the prey

Table base by Skylark