DEIMOS
the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times
for I have burned too many times
Calloused fingers rested along the pommel and hilt of his blade, nodding in understanding of both statements. “I try to find something I can learn from each fighter.” How to utilize faster, swifter movements, for it would always be a downfall with his height and mass, how to coordinate trickier evasions and dodges, breaking away from all his formal training, incorporating what he knew from muscle memory within necessary moments. Even those relatively new and inexperienced had things to share as they were instructed, as they were honed; different angles, different approaches, different nuances and complexities he might have never experienced. “And magic is always tempting,” and within the notion he smiled – just as resolved to sometimes wading instantly into the multitudes of incantations at his disposal. Especially in longer-ranged instances, where he yearned to keep himself and any other brethren away from danger for as long as possible.
He rotated the weapon in his hand for a moment, before nodding at her assent. He’d try an alternative track this time; launching for her shoulder once more, on a quick, keen notion, but intentionally stopping short, the serrated edges not touching either armor, flesh, or bone. “Think about what you can do to repel, and then how you can attack efficiently.” There were many options – upwards, over the top of his sword, heading for his own shoulders, clavicle, neck, or beyond, downwards, pinioning for his chest or abdomen – or even ricocheting over the weapon in his grasp.
He rotated the weapon in his hand for a moment, before nodding at her assent. He’d try an alternative track this time; launching for her shoulder once more, on a quick, keen notion, but intentionally stopping short, the serrated edges not touching either armor, flesh, or bone. “Think about what you can do to repel, and then how you can attack efficiently.” There were many options – upwards, over the top of his sword, heading for his own shoulders, clavicle, neck, or beyond, downwards, pinioning for his chest or abdomen – or even ricocheting over the weapon in his grasp.
the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life
for I have been drowning all my life
