[SE] [Training] jab well done

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

This time Lena flew – out over the boundaries of King’s End, silver and rose feathers taking rise on the summer thermals and the eaves of ease along the breeze – searching, as she’d always done in Stormbreak, for pockets of serenity or enamel of tranquility. The Last Step had been a favorite last time, perhaps because she could land upon the upper stones and dangle her feet over the ledge, never bothered by the heights with her own shifts within to consider – a fall wouldn’t amount to anything when the skies weren’t even her limits.

Mittens hovered close behind, and they eventually landed upon the top stone. Neither daunted by the precariousness, Lena shifted back, sitting and settled amidst the rock, and judging portions left in her basket. All the herbs and stores were different here, and there’d been plentiful enough sweetgrass lately to plant in their own new gardens, and to potentially make some sort of dessert this evening.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

Briefly, before meeting up with Hadama and the rest of them for the eradication of void creatures - Asta takes the scenic route. This time, taking him toward the Last Step - a space which he hadn’t visited, despite seeing its ascending staircase far in the distance. Where it goes, the butcher doesn’t know. But if the rumors were anything to believe, they essentially ended up nowhere but the clouds.

So, call him intrigued, but the butcher finds himself drifting up the stairs, silent and curious as he takes in the view from this height. He’s never had a flighted shift, never had anything that brought him up tot these heights except for the visits on a sky ship. And so, quietly pleased with being able to take it in on his own terms, he’s surprised to note that he isn’t alone as he nears the top.

And it’s a familiar face. “Lena, darling. What a pleasant surprise.” The butcher hums, cane set between his legs with both hands resting easily on it - his too sharp smile aimed at her as his tail flits against his heels.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Ever since the void viper incident with Liam, Mittens had remained on high alert. Not usually overly protective, simply predacious and minatory by default, the snowball had become a vicious little hovering menace over the past few days, and alerted Lena well before the butcher arrived towards the set of stairs, steps, and stones.

That it was Astaroth though set her at ease, even if it many others couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say the same. She lifted her head up from her sweetgrass sorting with a welcoming grin, while her companion simmered in the background, stone eyes glaring. “Hello! What brings you out here?”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

Drawing nearer with a nod to the menacing snowball – reminded briefly (as he usually was with the sight of the companion) of his time in Halo, the butcher’s smile is aimed at Lena as her question airs between them. “I am on my way to a meeting to eradicate some of the void beasts.” He offers easily, having zero reason to lie, least of all to her.

“I have yet to warm up, however. These old joints do not work the way they used to.” He tacks on with a joke, the low hum of a laugh escaping him as he sighs and returns his attention to Lena in spite of the joke he’s offered. “What brings you out this way?” He asks, tilting his head as he sees the tips of the green sweetgrass.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

“How lovely,” she joked, giving a quirk of a smile in response. She arched a brow at the notion of his ‘old joints’, shaking her head a little. “I can probably send you home with some herbs that might help with that.” As for her, she showed off a bundle she’d already snagged. “My own form of hunting,” winking, trying to keep her spirits up and away from notions of Stormbreak. “We had to move recently, and I figured I’d get some pieces for my new garden.” And if that sounded disappointed or dismayed, she’d certainly done her best to hide it.

Recalling some of their latest ventures, she grinned again. “Have you become any better with the bow?”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

Chuckling softly as he shakes his head, his shark tooth smile is aimed at her offer. “I appreciate the offer, but I will be fine. Thank you.” He murmurs softly, even as he drifts closer to inspect the bundle she’s plucked, hearing her own version of hunting. Something that he can appreciate, even if his own hunting is far different and bloodier than the likes Lena likely does.

There’s understanding in the panes of his face as she mentions the recent move - something tickling the back of his mind as he recalls that she’d lived in Stormbreak before, and with the fall of the Tower… Well. Her tone does’t seem to suggest that she wants to talk about it more, so he nods in understanding, before puffing a little laugh out from his chest, his smile brightening a touch.

“Gods no. I have realized I am more adept in close range, so I have been embracing that. What about you, darling?” He asks, inclining his head slightly.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

She nodded at his refusal, and perhaps remained glad at his tact for avoiding any other inquiries gesturing towards the recent Stormbreak debacles. The other question though has her laughing, shaking her head as she adjusted some ties and strings on the herbs to keep and hold them steady for the eventual journey back.

“I’ve gotten a little better,” in that she could hit a target like one out of ten times, if that counted. “I’ve tried some close-range things too, but as I’m sure you could guess, I’m also not very good at those.” Her nose wrinkled, mouth softening into a sincere smile, unbothered by it – fundamentally lacking that drive to achieve violence.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

Snorting to hear that she’d gotten a little bit better with the bow, he’s glad that she might have found something worth her time — even if he doesn’t know the intricacies. As for the rest and the mention of the close combat ones, the butcher’s head tilts softly as he regards her and the sincerity of her smile.

Glancing around briefly, he nods his head. “Well, I happen to have some time if you, perhaps, would like yet another training session?” It seemed as though they often met when it came to training or attempting to catch loose creatures in the Celestine. Why mess with their tradition now? "I do happen to know a thing or two about this, as opposed to the bow."

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Her eyes widened at the thought of another training session. A part of her wanted to immediately reject, offer her calm consolations and acknowledgments, and never have to bite into the parallels of such actions again.

Except she knew better. And with Stormbreak now in the midst of its own upheaval, there’d come a time where she’d likely have to defend herself – and Lena couldn’t be the one laying down, arms upraised, surrendering immediately.

So while her face must’ve gone through a litany of emotions as her thoughts persisted and circled back, she nodded, still not exactly keen. “I could try, if you don’t mind. I know some basics.” Zavien had at least instilled the fundamentals in, no matter how awful it’d been.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

He does see the variety of emotions that bloom across her face at the suggestion, though he’s patient as he waits for her to decide which portions she wanted to indulge in. Whether to deny him the opportunity or to agree. Either was fine for the butcher, but he is a touch more eager when she nods and still harbors that hesitation.

“I do not mind at all.” He murmurs, stepping back to set the cane down and off to the side, loosening his arms and shoulders, before he straightens up. “Let us start with what you know.” He readies himself, waiting for her to take the first move, prepared to let the information determine how he’d help her learn.

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

His agreement was kind, and she wondered just how much patience he had instilled; the bow and arrow had been amidst laughter and ample failure on both sides, but here, if he was in his element…she mentally grimaced, hoping things would work well.

Stepping down from the stone works and leaving her basket to be guarded by Mittens, her features became a canvas of apprehension and trepidation again. Despite all that, she squared herself into a familiar stance, waiting for him to either say it was awful or otherwise. She knew how to evade and do some basic motions – which he’d see shortly. “All right, here goes,” she announced – biting her lip in concentration as she swung one weak-willed fist towards the Ancient’s shoulder.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

He’d ensure that things would work out as well as possible – that hopefully she’d come away with an idea of how to utilize her limbs and stances and postures without finding herself failing. That was his goal, at least, and as she squares herself into a stance that felt familiar to her, the butcher’s her mirror as she gets closer to him.

He takes note of it, though he doesn’t change her stance at all while she sets up, her announcement coming shortly before she’s swinging one weak fist toward his shoulder. Taking some pity on her, the butcher steps into the punch – her hand finding the rough scar tissue beneath the fine clothing he wears, before he steps to the side, mirroring the motion in swinging a fist toward her side – stopping just short of actually making contact. “You want to ensure that you keep your weight evenly dispersed so that you can avoid being left open. The swing will take balance from you when you are extended, so it is important to make sure you can push back on your other foot to be able to block.” Comes the soft accented hum of instruction, his position hesitating to see what she would do to get herself out of this situation.

1/4

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

His fist swinging soon after hers had her reeling; not capable of evading it. Her eyes widened further when he offered advice, kindly, when it became clear she hadn’t been very adept. “Oh. That’s probably not the first time I’ve heard that,” and she blushed, striving to come back into the regular stance, thinking about her weight distribution.

There were so many things to think about that the latter hadn’t been a crucial part of it at all. Nodding, her eyes narrowed and her brows furrowed in avid concentration, preparing another swing, but trying to keep herself balanced, effectual, so that she wouldn’t be wide open for the next onslaught. This time the fist aimed for his shoulder was less rigid and unrefined, though clearly not much power behind it – never intending to do so. “Was that better?”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

// we haven't won, and if we win, //

“It takes practice.” The butcher hums a soft laugh, remaining as she resteadies her stance, preparing to take his notes into mind as she starts the next assault. This one is much better, the awareness of just where she is proving to be a great boon for when he mimics his own attack as before.

Only this time, Lena will find that it’s easy for her to twist on her back leg to come closer to him but to the side, while his fist flares through the air beside her into empty space. “That’s great, Lena.” Comes the easy praise, slowing his movement to let her decide what to do next now that she’s gotten him this close.

2/4

Astaroth

// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //