I need to grow, here I could be, Don't have to do this perfectly
Muscles flexed and then stretched, skin pulled taut and then relaxed, all the while he burned. He was radiating heat even without the exercise, every drop of sweat seeking to cool him down with the breeze instead searing a path across each trail it drew. But he persisted, until a break was granted, until his sides huffed with deep breaths and his brow dripped with sweat, until he heard the gruff good that Deimos gave, looking to the man for the next instruction.
He caught his breath relatively quick, though he still sweated perhaps a bit more than he normally would if he were not so sunkissed and feverish with a hint of sun-stroke slowly becoming evident. He watched the next demonstration closely still, focussing through the impending fatigue that tried to cloud his mind - he'd be finding a big cool body of water after this - and nodded as Deimos' blade expertly wound its way to the target, again and again, sure and refined movement in every stride, every swing, every intention.
Then it was his turn again, and he so wanted to do well. But as he stepped forward to try, he felt the pangs of a headache come on, fever and sunstroke combining in a spectacular head-splitting pain. Still, he swung his blade, the far end of it nudging the target, the movement as a whole hindered and rendered almost completely useless, barely a shadow of imitation of that which Deimos had demonstrated. "Ah, sorry," he said as he paused his motion, lifting his free hand to press his fingers against his eyes in an attempt to allay the pain.
"I think.. I just need a breather -" he shook his head, which did nothing to remove the pain that pounded within it. "I need.. I need water," he dared to look to the man, expecting to be told where he might find a refreshment station, a place to get a quick drink, that they might keep going.
He caught his breath relatively quick, though he still sweated perhaps a bit more than he normally would if he were not so sunkissed and feverish with a hint of sun-stroke slowly becoming evident. He watched the next demonstration closely still, focussing through the impending fatigue that tried to cloud his mind - he'd be finding a big cool body of water after this - and nodded as Deimos' blade expertly wound its way to the target, again and again, sure and refined movement in every stride, every swing, every intention.
Then it was his turn again, and he so wanted to do well. But as he stepped forward to try, he felt the pangs of a headache come on, fever and sunstroke combining in a spectacular head-splitting pain. Still, he swung his blade, the far end of it nudging the target, the movement as a whole hindered and rendered almost completely useless, barely a shadow of imitation of that which Deimos had demonstrated. "Ah, sorry," he said as he paused his motion, lifting his free hand to press his fingers against his eyes in an attempt to allay the pain.
"I think.. I just need a breather -" he shook his head, which did nothing to remove the pain that pounded within it. "I need.. I need water," he dared to look to the man, expecting to be told where he might find a refreshment station, a place to get a quick drink, that they might keep going.
CHULANE
