”Mmh. Torchline could use that fire in our militia,” a voice rumbled from the doorway, casting a shadow in the light of the rising moon. The tall King had to duck to slip inside the training grounds, but he was unmistakable from the moon-steel of his long hair to the golden tattoos that crossed the bare brown skin of his muscular torso. His legs were clad in black leather trousers embroidered with hand-stitched silver stars but his feet were as bare as they ever were when he had them as he walked inside and looked around with quiet approval at the training equipment and practice weapons stored along the walls.
His trident tapped lightly against the ground with every other footfall, but he no longer leaned it for support. He moved with a fresh confidence and a lightness to his step for all that he was a large and heavy man as he approached, emerald eyes sparking with recognition of the Ancient who was losing herself in the physical exertion of her training.
”Your aggression is good,” he acknowledged with a dip of his head. ”But how is your defense?” Setting the trident to lean against the wall, he moved into the boxing ring and raised his hands in front of him, fingers curled lightly into fists as he waited for Maea to join him.
His trident tapped lightly against the ground with every other footfall, but he no longer leaned it for support. He moved with a fresh confidence and a lightness to his step for all that he was a large and heavy man as he approached, emerald eyes sparking with recognition of the Ancient who was losing herself in the physical exertion of her training.
”Your aggression is good,” he acknowledged with a dip of his head. ”But how is your defense?” Setting the trident to lean against the wall, he moved into the boxing ring and raised his hands in front of him, fingers curled lightly into fists as he waited for Maea to join him.
