Damien
"I never see you at the club!"
Okay? I never see you at the creek
Okay? I never see you at the creek
The staff whistled low, and Damien caught the motion just in time. He shifted his weight hard to the side, boots scraping across the ice-slick surface as he yanked one leg back and let the other take the brunt of his balance. The swipe missed clean, but only because he moved like a man who’d learned to keep his legs under him in bad terrain.
Straightening, Damien gave a short huff of a laugh, dry and unbothered. “Thought the point was you wanted me to hit you,” he said, brow ticking up, the staff braced again in front of him.
He didn’t press forward immediately, just adjusted his grip and stance, testing the wood against his calloused palms. The gleam in his eyes said he wasn’t discouraged—if anything, he looked more intrigued. “Guess I should’ve expected you’d make me earn it.”
He didn’t linger on defense any longer. Twisting the length of wood in his hands, Damien stepped back in with a sudden jab toward Deimos’s midsection—not a wild swing this time, but a tighter thrust, testing for openings.
Straightening, Damien gave a short huff of a laugh, dry and unbothered. “Thought the point was you wanted me to hit you,” he said, brow ticking up, the staff braced again in front of him.
He didn’t press forward immediately, just adjusted his grip and stance, testing the wood against his calloused palms. The gleam in his eyes said he wasn’t discouraged—if anything, he looked more intrigued. “Guess I should’ve expected you’d make me earn it.”
He didn’t linger on defense any longer. Twisting the length of wood in his hands, Damien stepped back in with a sudden jab toward Deimos’s midsection—not a wild swing this time, but a tighter thrust, testing for openings.
(Training 2/4)
