I need to grow, here I could be, Don't have to do this perfectly
They were done, him having arrived as a blank canvas, a clean slate, Deimos an artist, leaving his impressions and carefully controlled strokes against him. He was well worn, tired but not pushed to the limit of his endurance - he felt like he'd just had a hell of a workout, which was exactly what he'd done.
He had a hell of a sunburn still, too.
A half-smile tilted his mouth at Deimos' words, as he made no real motion to accept or deny his critique. He might've done well - but he could always do better, he had to do better. The only way to get there though, was to keep working, keep trying, keep doing better. He had a baseline to start with now, an estimation of his skills, and guidance to improve it.
He was… excited, to see what his baseline would be like in the future, what he might be able to show Deimos in a month, or a season, or a year.
"Of course," he would practice in Halo, hell, he'd practice wherever he went. Wandering back to the watering station, he drank deeply, before bending over the bucket and scooping water to splash up over his face, amazed at the amount of heat his face was radiating with its burn.
"Oasis," he nodded, returning the training blade to the stand, running a hand through his sweat-and-water-soaked hair. "A soak sounds nice," gods, but he was tired, and hot. It was as if the aftermath of such exercise was weighing down on him heavier than the movement itself, the adrenaline of the moments of combat fading and leaving behind a mildly sunstroked haze in its wake.
He'd be alright, ultimately, his determination and stubborn will to just keep going stronger than a cosmic sunburn.
--
Fin! Thank you Heather <33
He had a hell of a sunburn still, too.
A half-smile tilted his mouth at Deimos' words, as he made no real motion to accept or deny his critique. He might've done well - but he could always do better, he had to do better. The only way to get there though, was to keep working, keep trying, keep doing better. He had a baseline to start with now, an estimation of his skills, and guidance to improve it.
He was… excited, to see what his baseline would be like in the future, what he might be able to show Deimos in a month, or a season, or a year.
"Of course," he would practice in Halo, hell, he'd practice wherever he went. Wandering back to the watering station, he drank deeply, before bending over the bucket and scooping water to splash up over his face, amazed at the amount of heat his face was radiating with its burn.
"Oasis," he nodded, returning the training blade to the stand, running a hand through his sweat-and-water-soaked hair. "A soak sounds nice," gods, but he was tired, and hot. It was as if the aftermath of such exercise was weighing down on him heavier than the movement itself, the adrenaline of the moments of combat fading and leaving behind a mildly sunstroked haze in its wake.
He'd be alright, ultimately, his determination and stubborn will to just keep going stronger than a cosmic sunburn.
--
Fin! Thank you Heather <33
CHULANE
