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Neither of his run-ins with the haunted squash had ended with Jigano feeling particularly proud of himself. His little game of tag had left him exhausted and bruised, and he’d gotten his sword stuck in a gourd when he’d tried to impress a pretty girl. He was, admittedly, a little out of practice in the finer points of bladework, but he hadn’t realized just how out of shape he’d become since his unexpected trip between worlds. Or maybe it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘becoming’ as an overreliance on magic and charms to give him the semblance of strength and durability. With those stripped away he was, well, he was simply… himself.
There were, theoretically, worse things to be, but he needed to become better. He had spent the last several years of his life hiding from his past, carrying the scars, the guilt… but he hadn’t grown any stronger from hauling that weight around his shoulders. Clearly. He was out of the world-saving business… but he was making new friends here, away from all the reminders of his past failures, and he wanted to be able to save them if it came down to it.
Which was, more or less, why the white haired, blue-eyed man was standing in the afternoon sunlight, practicing his lunges against individual leaves fluttering in the gentle breeze, trying to pin or slice them before they fell, red and gold, to the ground at his feet. His clothing was simple but well-made, tightly-woven linen and soft leather in pale greens and warm browns, and though his attention was fiercely focused on his task his senses were open to the woodland around him, as only an Attuned's could be.
Neither of his run-ins with the haunted squash had ended with Jigano feeling particularly proud of himself. His little game of tag had left him exhausted and bruised, and he’d gotten his sword stuck in a gourd when he’d tried to impress a pretty girl. He was, admittedly, a little out of practice in the finer points of bladework, but he hadn’t realized just how out of shape he’d become since his unexpected trip between worlds. Or maybe it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘becoming’ as an overreliance on magic and charms to give him the semblance of strength and durability. With those stripped away he was, well, he was simply… himself.
There were, theoretically, worse things to be, but he needed to become better. He had spent the last several years of his life hiding from his past, carrying the scars, the guilt… but he hadn’t grown any stronger from hauling that weight around his shoulders. Clearly. He was out of the world-saving business… but he was making new friends here, away from all the reminders of his past failures, and he wanted to be able to save them if it came down to it.
Which was, more or less, why the white haired, blue-eyed man was standing in the afternoon sunlight, practicing his lunges against individual leaves fluttering in the gentle breeze, trying to pin or slice them before they fell, red and gold, to the ground at his feet. His clothing was simple but well-made, tightly-woven linen and soft leather in pale greens and warm browns, and though his attention was fiercely focused on his task his senses were open to the woodland around him, as only an Attuned's could be.
