[Training] dodging red flags

Zavien

The Risen Sun

Sol gives a chirp from his perch on the wall and Zavien turns around, already expecting the visitor. "Flora." He offers the Queen a bright smile, disguising the bit of unease that still sits in his chest. Perhaps it's a bad idea to meet with her after the conversation he'd had with Kai, but the needs of the city are above any discomforts he may have, and it's not like she's the one who threatened his relationship.

Still, he makes sure the training ground is cleared for them, where no prying ears or nosey faces might overhear their early morning meeting. Without the mass of bodies, dripping sweat, or huffs of exertion, the space has yet to warm up, making Zavien's long sleeve all the more necessary when he'd been working through a few sword movements to loosen his muscles.

Lowering his sword, he crosses the sand to greet her, his eyes shining despite the early hour, alert and ready to go. "Anything specific you want to work on today?"

Lead with light, even in shadow

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Spice is the first to reply, a bright trill of greeting chiming off the stone walls as she catches sight of Sol. The little dragon wings upward with an elegant flutter, circling once before settling along the edge of a banner, white scales gleaming faintly in the pale Deepforst light.

"Heya!" Flora calls as Zavien turns, one hand lifted in a wave and a smile already blooming across her face. Despite the early hour and Stormbreak’s sharper chill, she looks radiant and utterly unbothered by the weather; wrapped in a plush, black sweater that slouches off one shoulder, tucked into dark jeans and tall leather boots. Her curls are swept into a high ponytail that bounces as she walks, golden hoops glinting at her ears and a familiar confident swing in her step.

She surveys the cleared training ground with an impressed lift of her brow. "Oh wow, right to business, huh?" she teases, laughter humming at the edges of her voice as he skips right past any potential small talk.

The smile she flashes him is quicksilver-bright before she reaches for her belt, drawing out two feathered daggers. They glint faintly in the morning light, delicate-looking and deadly as ever. She tosses one lightly in her palm, catching it by the hilt without ever breaking eye contact.

"I’ve only ever trained how to fight alone," she says, with a shrug of one shoulder. "What I’ve never really been shown is how to work with someone on the field." There’s curiosity in her tone, but challenge too—, playful, sharp-edged. "So....wanna to show me the best way to tag-team an enemy?" Her brows bounce, curls swinging as her head tilts just slightly, mischief and steel wrapped in the same smile.

Zavien

The Risen Sun

The Queen looks as perky and put together as always, her teasing tendencies flashing in their usual bright tone. Laughing, Zavien shrugs his shoulders, never one for small talk or delaying the topics at hand. "Would you prefer to start with the boring stuff?" He hadn't taken her for someone who likes to waste time, but he's happy to backtrack if that's what she wants. Still, he adds for clarification, "I figured we could talk while we spar or after we've warmed up." It takes some of the weight off the 'business' portion of their meeting, especially since he always seems to think better when he's moving. 

His eyes follow her daggers, cataloguing them in his usual soldierly way. The request surprises him, a pleased glint forming in his eyes, thinking of the wealth of familiarity he has with teams and group cooperation as a Dragoon. "Sure. We could walk through some strategies against the dummies in the corner or...." His eyes flash to the glinting gold lounging at the top of the wall, a grin on his face as he finishes, "maybe the dragons want to be our opponents?" Sol puffs his chest, chirping his agreement and offering a glimpse of his teeth in what anyone could guess is a smile. The little dragon looks to his friend, excitement making his tail drag across the stones in a flicking wag.

Lead with light, even in shadow

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Flora flashes a mischievous grin as Zavien dives straight in. "Oh, what?" she tosses back with a mock gasp, hand over her chest. "Asking how I’m doing is boring for you, huh?" The smirk that follows makes it clear she’s not even remotely offended, curls bouncing as she steps fully into the sparring circle. "And here I thought you liked me."

But any sting is softened by the way her gaze flicks toward the dragons overhead. As Zavien suggests them as opponents, her brows lift in interest, followed swiftly by a nonchalant shrug. "Sure," she says, already sliding her real daggers back into their sheaths. "But if that’s the case, I’m definitely not using these." Her smile is all teeth, a little too bright, a little too confident. "One too-well-aimed strike and I’d take one of them out."

Spice trills knowingly from her perch, clearly in agreement, and Flora sends her a wink before glancing around the training yard. "Got any wooden daggers stashed around here?" she asks, already turning a slow circle to scan the racks. "Otherwise, I’ll take a practice sword."

Zavien

The Risen Sun

Her indignation sparks more laughter, his hands raising and head shaking like he refuses to let the accusations take hold. After all, he's grown up around enough women to know a trap when he hears one. "That sounds like a trick question." His eyes are bright, watching her infectious energy seep closer with every bouncing step. Letting his hands fall, his smile teases knowingly. "Because I wouldn't have asked you here if I didn't like you." 

The daggers are disappearing, the dragons crooning their agreement. Zavien feels the slight chill of certainty from her words, grateful that Sol won't be facing down the seemingly inconspicuous yet deadly weapons and more than a little intimidated by the Queen's beaming confidence. His smile doesn't dim, but there's a relief that they're on the same team when he nods his head. "Good to know."

He walks to the edge of the ring, an armory of wooden and padded practice weapons organized in their racks. "Oh definitely. We've got some wooden daggers, but they won't fly nearly as well as those. They're usually for close combat practice." Zavien grabs a few of the small wooden knives that look like kid toys, raising them for Flora to inspect if she choses. Meanwhile, he indicates to the other portions of equipment when he adds, "We also have staffs, practice swords, and even wooden arrows if you're feeling adventurous. Up to you."

Lead with light, even in shadow

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Flora just grins, wicked and unrepentant. She’s been known to lob the occasional conversational landmine for fun, and just because Zavien spotted this one doesn’t mean she’s about to wave a white flag. "Oh weird," she says, her tone dripping with faux innocence. "Here I thought you called me up to thank me for sending you all my handsome and capable soldiers." She gives a dramatic blink, like she’s shocked her own generosity didn’t warrant a fruit basket.

Trailing after him, her curls bounce with each step, and she surveys the rack of options with the casual appraisal of someone more interested in style than practicality. "Normally I just use my daggers," she admits, reaching out to trail her fingers along the assortment of wooden weaponry. "But I guess it’s probably time to branch out."

Her gaze lands on the staff and something in her expression shifts; familiarity, maybe, or just curiosity wrapped in nostalgia. "Ooooh, a lot of the Fae used these in the Greatwood where I grew up," she says, reaching for it with an impressed little coo. "They made it look very dramatic. Lots of flipping and spinning."

Flora, naturally, attempts exactly that.

She swings the staff in a wide arc, twirling it through her fingers in a way that’s more flair than form, her sweater riding slightly up as she spins once with it in hand. The result is flashy, if not especially functional. Above her, Spice lets out a delighted, hiccupy little chirp of laughter, clearly entertained by her bonded’s sudden shift into a very extra martial artist.

Flora pauses mid-spin, staff planted (a little off-centre) and brows bouncing toward Zavien with a grin. "Convincing, right?"

Zavien

The Risen Sun

"I mean, there's that too." She's made the boring business unavoidable now, and Zavien just shakes his head and gives in, continually impressed by her ability to effortlessly navigate the political scene. Despite his own inexperience, he at least has the wherewithal to treat the request as more than friendly when his voice shifts to something more serious. "Although I was hoping you'd let them stick around a little longer - or send them back after LongNight, since the Tower has hit some unforeseen delays." He won't regale her with the tantalizing tales of negotiating contracts and disruptive ROUS and supply complications unless she's really interested, presuming she'll let him know if that's a deciding factor. 

Knowing they'll get the project done either way - if quite a bit slower - he's not wholly concerned about it as they peruse the racks of practice weapons. Flora's choice doesn't surprise him, but her words catch his attention with quiet appraisal. It's something he doesn't often remember about her; that familial connection to Remi, his participation in the Greatwood, the leagues of history she possessed before she'd ever become Queen. For someone so young, it's impressive - and sad, to think about all the pain and change she's had to endure. 

Yet it doesn't diminish her light, the way she flourishes the staff like a baton with a ribbon on the end, a dancer looking to entrance her audience. It does make him smile, his arms crossing as he monitors the footwork and positioning like he would a recruit, even if his expression is too amused to be critical. "It'll look intimidating for someone who doesn't know how to fight with a staff." The implication is there, the knowledge that against a lesser opponent, she wouldn't have a problem, but in an experienced arena, she might struggle. 

Zavien adjusts his shoulders as he grabs a staff of his own. "Maybe try less flare and more control." He works through a few spinning movements similar to her own, except that the air wraps tight around the force of the staff, his muscles guiding it seamlessly through the arcing motions. The weapon nearly whistles with the force of the momentum, sand and fabric rustling before a quiet whoosh finally sounds from the controlled snap of the wood coming to a complete stop mid-motion, ending in a mirror position of hers - with the staff centered perfectly at her. 

Grinning, he stands, gesturing to the sand. "Why don't you copy my movements in a mirrored fight against each dragon, then we can join together at the end?" Hearing the plan and his very important person status in it, Sol takes his place across from Zavien, trying to look intimidating when the Dragoon takes a standard staff stance against him. The dragon even lets out a growl, legs spreading like he plans to pounce the moment the signal is given.

Lead with light, even in shadow

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Flora laughs, the sound tumbling out warm and easy despite the early chill. Her brows rise a beat later as Zavien slips that oh-so-casual request into the mix. Shrugging, she rolls one shoulder with an effortless grace, curls swaying behind her. "Things always take longer than you think they will." The words come with the sort of knowing cadence that speaks to too many projects gone sideways, too many delays dressed in bureaucratic lace. "You can absolutely keep them a bit longer." Her grin tips sly, golden, but not unkind. "And if it’s looking grim, I can always pop up and lend a hand. Between the two of us—" she waggles her fingers in a vaguely magical swirl "—we could probably channel and get the harder bits wrapped up. Instant scaffolding. No back pain."

When Zavien takes the staff and begins to move, Flora steps back, twirling hers idly while watching with a smirk that slowly melts into something more appreciative. His demonstration is sharp, clean, and effortless. As the staff slices through the air with a whistle and settles perfectly centred on her, she gasps theatrically and offers him a smattering of applause, before straightening and nodding with an exaggerated solemnity. "Alright, alright. Point taken."

Overhead, Spice lets out a curious chime, wings flaring in a loose hover as she mirrors Sol’s attempt at intimidation. It’s not especially convincing—her gleaming white scales and glittering eyes make her look more like an expensive heirloom ornament than a battle-ready beast—but she flutters gamely into position.

Flora eyes her bonded with a raised brow. "You know I’m not going to go easy on you, right?" Then, shifting her grip lower on the staff, she rears back like she’s swinging for the fences and takes a playful swipe at the air where Spice floats. The little dragon dodges easily, spiralling upward in a gust of snowy wingbeats and trilling with delight.

---

1/4

Zavien

The Risen Sun

Grinning, his head dips and bobs in a humorous agreement of time's consistent ability to be inconsistent. It doesn't bother him too much, certain the task will be done eventually, although wishing it was a little easier to give people an answer on when. All he can count on is having Flora's soldiers there to support them along the way - and apparently the Queen herself. 

Zavien tilts his head, amused by the idea of bypassing some of the headaches with a simple channeling. "Hm. That doesn't sound like a bad idea. It would certainly save everyone a little work." He smiles, not a fan of taking the 'easy' way but finding that there's plenty of work still to be done after. Shrugging his shoulders, he gladly embraces all suggestions, more than ready to get the Tower up and running. "Either way, we appreciate your help and that of your soldiers."

But then they're getting to the non-boring stuff, his staff whirling through the air to point at the Queen. Flora's exaggerated acceptance has him laughing, taking the praise with a nonchalance that belies years of practice that have dulled his pride in simple muscle memory, even as his eyes glitter from the polite flattery. It doesn't stop him from moving straight into the drill, watching her swipe at Spice with a sweeping swing. 

"A little wider grip and an offset stance might help. Then you can easily twist into another strike." Letting her see the middle and lower staff placement of his hands, Zavien places one foot forward as he moves to attack Sol's similarly bobbing figure. His staff curves through the air, the dragon dodging easily before the wood twists in a sudden change of direction when he steps again, guiding the weapon in a fluid motion that nearly clips at a membranous gold wing. 

---

1/4

Lead with light, even in shadow

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Flora bounces her eyebrows at Spice, her grin turning sharp with challenge as she watches Zavien adjust his grip and flow into that elegant strike. "Oohhhhhhh," she echoes with theatrical awe, nodding as if she’s just unlocked the secrets of the universe. "Okay, okay. I think I get it."

Adjusting her stance, she spreads her hands wider along the staff and pivots her boots into the sand with exaggerated readiness. "Alright, you,' she says to Spice, voice low and ominous in the most unserious way possible. "I’mma getcha this time."

She steps into the swing like she means it, her sweater stretching slightly across her shoulders as she lifts and drives the staff up in one clean arc. Spice flutters just out of reach—again—so Flora twists sharply and follows through with a second swing, lower this time, aiming to catch the little dragon in the middle of her smug mid-hover.

But Spice, clearly thriving under the sudden attention, lets out a delighted chirp as she spins out of range. Her wings fan wide and, with the kind of dramatic flair Flora would normally be proud of, the dragon exhales a sudden, glittering blast of icy air. "Spice!" Flora yelps, throwing her staff up like a shield.

It does not help.

The frost rushes past the wooden shaft and hits her square in the chest and neck, tousling her ponytail and painting a delicate shimmer of frost across the curve of her jaw. She yelps again, more indignant than hurt, stamping her boot into the sand as she lowers the staff. "Okay rude," she coughs, shivering as she wipes at the chill creeping down her collar, though her tone is nothing but affectionate.

---

2/4

Zavien

The Risen Sun

He's immediately reminded of how quickly Flora learns, watching as she sweeps into a near-perfect strike against her chirping companion. It still doesn't land, but it's close enough that the attack doesn't go without retaliation, and his warm laughter tries to combat the ice clinging to her cheek. Zavien shrugs his shoulders, grinning playfully at her suffering. "That's a tough one, but you can try spinning the staff to block a decent amount. Like this." 

Sol is already hovering, smoke coiling from the slits of his nose. The moment Zavien is ready, a short burst of fire is sent his way, just as searing and dangerous as usual, but he's ready, the staff rotating quickly in his hands to become a blurring shield of wood and air. The fire buffers hot against his hands, an uncomfortable glimpse at what he could be experiencing. Then the heat is dissipating, pulled outward by the centrifugal force of the staff. 

---

2/4

Lead with light, even in shadow

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Flora watches Zavien’s movements with a little furrow of concentration forming between her brows, the frost still glittering faintly at her jawline like delicate paint. She nods slowly, catching the rhythm of his spin and the way the staff acts more like an extension of his arms than a separate weapon. "Okay," she murmurs, and glances toward Spice with a look that can only be described as challenging. The little dragon blinks once, then chirps as if accepting the dare. Flora exhales and plants her feet, wrists loosening, staff balanced. "Alright, Spice. Gimme what you got."

Obliging far too gleefully, the draconic sprite draws in a breath and exhales a ribbon of frost toward her. Flora begins to mimic the movement Zavien showed—staff spinning, arms shifting—but her rings bite cold against her fingers, bracelets rattle, and the oversized sweater bunches just enough at her elbow that she loses her grip.

Clatter.

The staff hits the ground with an unimpressive thunk, and the frost tickles up her chest again, ruffling her ponytail and stinging the edge of one ear. She blinks through the chill, then shoots Zavien a crooked, self-deprecating smile. "That one," she admits, nudging the staff with her boot, "might take some practicing."

---

3/4

Zavien

The Risen Sun

He can already see in her hold where the movement is going to fail, the stiffness that will clash with flid motion of the staff. Before he can correct or guide, she's twisting it through the air. It spins for a moment, his eyes catching the various reasons the staff is ultimately falling to the ground. This time he doesn't laugh, not wanting her to feel discouraged as he shrugs off the failed attempt. "It's not the easiest skill to master." He hands her the fallen staff, smiling in the same way he does to all the recruits who fumble through their first efforts. "I can show you the motions a little slower sometime - when our lives aren't being threatened by two vicious dragons." Zavien glances discretely at the companions, smirking his amusement at the puff of smoke and dramatic growls that would strike fear in even the bravest of mice.  

Turning back to the Queen, he raises a conspiratorial brow, pretending not to notice the gold creeping closer. "How about I do the blocking while you attack? We can tag-team them." As if to take advantage before the plan can form, Sol dives, blasting another bit of fire for Zavien to block then swerving into Flora's path. 

---

3/4

Lead with light, even in shadow

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Flora nods agreeably at Zavien’s offer to show her the movements again later, her expression entirely unbothered by the earlier fumble. "Only if you promise not to let me knock myself out with it," she says with mock gravity, curling her fingers back around the staff as though it might betray her again. Still, there’s a gleam of anticipation in her eyes—she likes a challenge, even the ones she’s bad at—though she can't help but add, "never thought I'd be getting wood handling lessons from you."

The grin that spreads across her face when Zavien suggests a tag-team is quicksilver-bright. She shifts, about to press her back to his like she’s seen in stage plays and pulp battle-dramas (complete with dramatic orchestral swells), but Sol’s movement is already sweeping into the space between them.

With a delighted laugh, Flora pivots instead, facing the incoming dragon head-on. "Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re the youngest!" she calls toward Sol, her voice playful but undercut with the focus that only appears when she’s truly engaged. Her hands adjust, grip firm and well-placed this time as she steps into the swing—angling to connect with the bulk of the golden dragon’s side—aiming for the thickest part of his scaled flank where she knows a blow will land safely.

Above her, Spice trills out a dramatic cry of battle and fans her wings wide before diving at Flora from behind. The white dragon glitters in the sun like a shard of frost, aiming to intercept before her bonded’s strike can land.

---

4/4