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.
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
