soldier boy
Icarus had gone to the training grounds with a sword in hand, prepared to unleash his precise and already practically-perfect sword forms on an unsuspecting dummy, planning on letting the muscle memory control his moves until he was aching from the strain and drenched in a healthy sheen of sweat. The chip on his shoulder was aching, the hours spent in the ring dedicated to the singular purpose of being better, of working to defend, to make Deimos proud. Wait, no, not that last one, he swears. Icarus shakes his head, droplets of sweat flicking from his curls as he tries to chase away that intruder. He's about to redouble his efforts and hoist his sword once more when he sees shattering shards of ice absolutely decimate a training dummy, disemboweling its poor dummy guts until hay scatters on the floor.
Icarus' breath catches in his quest. For all his water magic mastery, he's never had the strength to use it as brutally as this stranger does, never twisted the water at his beck and call until it crystallizes into a weapon under his very touch. It's a reactive magic to him, defensive and supportive, but it could never replace the sword in his hands. What would it mean he could conjure such weaponry out of thin air and command it to his whims? Still, this woman's mastery is excellent, and as much as she scares Icarus (even with her sparkling smatters of freckles across her face), he wants to know how she gained such ease with her magic.
"Excuse me," Icarus calls, stepping forward, still a respectful distance away but not calling from the other side of the room. "How did you learn how to do that?"
Icarus' breath catches in his quest. For all his water magic mastery, he's never had the strength to use it as brutally as this stranger does, never twisted the water at his beck and call until it crystallizes into a weapon under his very touch. It's a reactive magic to him, defensive and supportive, but it could never replace the sword in his hands. What would it mean he could conjure such weaponry out of thin air and command it to his whims? Still, this woman's mastery is excellent, and as much as she scares Icarus (even with her sparkling smatters of freckles across her face), he wants to know how she gained such ease with her magic.
"Excuse me," Icarus calls, stepping forward, still a respectful distance away but not calling from the other side of the room. "How did you learn how to do that?"
Icarus
oh my little soldier boy
