Hey, starchild, are you listening?
Thwack. The dagger landed point first, a finger's breadth from the center. Thud. It's sibling lodged next to it, quivering with force. Seren squinted, and adjusted her stance. Thunk. The third knife finally found its mark, right in the center of the butt. Nodding to herself with a pleased look at the neat grouping, she looked around for archers in action, then went up to retrieved the blades. Apparently, fluke had nothing to do with her victory over Aisha in their game of 'darts'. She was good at throwing. Good enough that she had to struggle to actually free the knives from the target; it made her smirk quietly to herself.
It also made the girl set the knives aside, and cross the training hall to pick up a sword. This weapon she did not feel any confidence with. Even the blunted edges of the heavy sparring sword made her uneasy, all too aware of the cruel purpose for which they were designed. Seren kept adjusting her grip on the handle as she looked out over the room in search for a partner. There were plenty of other people around, from recruits to instructors to seasoned veterans, paired up in spars or grouped, moving through exercises with varying degrees of grace and expertise. A sprawling tapestry of movement, the picture of brisk efficiency and intent.
Her chest warmed with a sense of belonging as she watched them. And her body itched, too, with a need to keep moving; there was no time to just stand around.
It also made the girl set the knives aside, and cross the training hall to pick up a sword. This weapon she did not feel any confidence with. Even the blunted edges of the heavy sparring sword made her uneasy, all too aware of the cruel purpose for which they were designed. Seren kept adjusting her grip on the handle as she looked out over the room in search for a partner. There were plenty of other people around, from recruits to instructors to seasoned veterans, paired up in spars or grouped, moving through exercises with varying degrees of grace and expertise. A sprawling tapestry of movement, the picture of brisk efficiency and intent.
Her chest warmed with a sense of belonging as she watched them. And her body itched, too, with a need to keep moving; there was no time to just stand around.
Seren
