[Training] A good thing to catch

set aside your soul

New Haven—he mouthed the name silently as he walked, the syllables feeling strange, the gravel crunching beneath his boots rather than the loam he once knew. It was the first time he’d set foot here since the settling of this town. Now, where silence had once reigned, there was life.

The air smelled of tilled soil and wildflowers, the sweetness of lantern oil and bread drifting from the open windows of houses that lined the road. Flowerbirrh was alight here. People worked away in their yards, starting gardens and cleaning up the evidence of Deepfrost. Some fought against memory mud that threatened to overtake their walkways, and some went to help their neighbors.

As he walked, his chest ached—a mix of sorrow with something gentler. He could see Cordelia in the shadowed corners of the settlement, in the shining sunlight that came down. She would love this town, a better and broader home for people than it had been for them, once upon a time.

He remembered when Kings End had been all ruin and solitude, a place where even hope had felt exiled. And yet here it was—proof that life returned, that hands other than his had built something enduring. It made him miss his wife.

“New Haven,” he said again as he turned a corner, leading him out of the town proper where the houses started to spread apart and the green came in rolling, brilliant waves.

Noah

let tomorrow realize itselt

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

Mud. Mud. Mud. Every day it's there, claiming parts of her regardless of how she tries to avoid it. It consumes hours of her day, a brackish wash of thought on how she could keep it at bay or how she might just need to embrace it as an inevitability. She'll be free of it for a while, a brief, blessed respite where her world is more than mud. Cruelly it returns with the slightest misstep, either her own, or some rogue passerby that sends it splattering back to her awareness.

She's filthy with it today.

Seething, she presses her fingers against her cheek, arm bending with the draw of the bow once more. Her eyes slide beneath the brim of her hat, skating over the ridge of her pointer finger, locking on Noah right as her arrow springs from the bowstring. It sinks into the stump across from her with a satisfying thump.

Tight lipped with frustration not done wearing itself out yet, she lowers the bow with all the quick and sharp motions of someone deeply inconvenienced. Might have just ignored him, but part of her is looking for something to strike against that might kick back; could knock all the mud from her. "Need something?" she asks of him, an edge to the query. He has a wondering sort of look to him, the sort tourists around here get when they're taking everything in. He also looks like he could deliver something worthwhile.

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive

set aside your soul

The sound of the arrow finding its mark drew Noah’s attention as surely as a heartbeat in still air. The twang of bowstring, the thud into wood were both familiar, grounding sounds. He turned toward them, glacier eyes following the line of shot to the woman. Mud clung to her boots and clothes, a stubborn shadow of the season that refused to release its hold, but her aim was steady. Her frustration hadn’t reached her hands.

“Not particularly,” he said after a beat, voice even and low, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly. ”Just my first time in town.” He didn’t mention how he had lived here once, well before the town was established and full of life.

He thought about lifting his hand and going on his way, but hesitated. He cleared his throat, and stepped closer—just a few feet. “You shoot well.” His glacier flicked to her target and back, thoughtful. “The bow’s a fine one too.” He didn’t reach for it—wouldn’t—but there was the unmistakable familiarity of someone who knew the craft down to the string. “You practicing for the sake of it, or…?” He trailed off, brows raising to let her fill in the blanks.

Noah

let tomorrow realize itselt

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

The worst part about the mud? Sometimes she doesn't want to fight it. Sometimes, it brings its own sort of comfort; a familiar devil, and certainly not the worst of them out there. She considers in those moments just giving in and letting the mud engulf her, just to see what shape she takes on the other side of drowning instead of treading water. It's when she thinks like that, she knows she needs to shower.

Clearly not unbothered by mud, Colt's attire is not so grimy as Noah might think on closer inspection. Old stains, perhaps, and some dappling on the lower parts of her. "Welcome," she greets, but it lacks any real warmth despite the practiced smile that follows on the heels of it. Though, a touch of something real flickers to life on the edges at the compliment he delivers. It's said smooth and simple enough that it doesn't strike her like he's burying something else inside it, the way praise has always appeared like a distraction for teeth to her.

She doesn't respond to it, not directly, just tilts her head and gives the bow a little twist in her grip. "Drinking only works sometimes. The others...need a little bit more fire power I find," she doesn't elaborate on what times she means, but she does shift towards him a touch more. "You shoot?" Her bow might not be gilded by Frey like her arrows are, but that he could see the craftsmanship just the same suggests he knows his way around a trigger bowstring.

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive

set aside your soul

Noah nodded, slowly but steadily. There was a humility there, settled on stone confidence. ”I do. I’m a hunter by trade, from Halo.” He shifted his weight, boots settling firmly in the gravel as he met her gaze without flinching.

Then his eyes drifted to her bow again, keenly aware of the tension threaded through her shoulders and coiling in the air, perhaps from his attuned nature, or perhaps from years spent observing other people, he cleared his throat. It wasn’t just practice keeping her out here. It was something trying to chew its way under her ribs. He understood that feeling far too well. “If you want someone to shoot alongside, I can keep pace. Or push it, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

A small, sure grin touched his mouth. “Your choice. I’m not here to waste your arrows.”

Noah

let tomorrow realize itselt

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

Another thing about mud. He It just thinks it can grab hold of her and it won't leave something behind? Even dust lingers to some extent, surely the mud doesn't expect her to just move on like it had been nothing this whole time, like it didn't completely alter the dirt roads? She certainly should have known better than to walk through it, so she's just as much to blame, and that part pisses her off too, because she tried not to. Admittedly, she didn't try very hard, but now she's wondering if she had, would she be stupidly standing here waiting for the mud to dry up, already knowing it's not even possible with how deep it's settled in the trenches of these walkways. The mud might have gone north, but she's never been more swamped by it.

He offers some explanation and she nods slowly, fitting the words to the image of him easily enough. At his offer though, that's when her expression really breaks into something pleasant at last. "Oh honey, I'm always interested in pushing." Her smile tilts to the same extent as her head, leaning in with even sharper interest in this man now. "Never a waste so long as you're aiming at something."

She draws back, lifting her bow from the ground with a twirl, her fingers grasping it back into a firm hold as she tightens up for some actual shooting. "Could always use more practice trying to nail a moving target, if you think you're fast enough to keep dodging 'em? I can't heal you and I'd hate to have you die on me, but ain't exactly easy to practice with arrows that won't sting." Her choice, he said, and she hopes he can back that up because she'd rather like to fire on him. She's ready when he is.

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

Noah’s breath slipped out in a slow, steady stream as he weighed her offer. It stirred a familiar pulse beneath his ribs, a memroy that tasted like adrenaline. Though that time, it had been his idea.

He had done this before—once, back in Torchline’s heat, sand clinging to his ankles while Maeve loosed arrows at him. He’d taken the shots in human form then, trusting muscle and instinct to keep him ahead of the fletching whisper of her arrows. He remembered tthe thrill of forcing his body just fast enough, just far enough. Remembered, too, that he hadn’t always been fast enough.  Perhaps this time lynx form would suit best. He would be faster, compact, closer to the ground where her angles would be trickier and his movements cleaner. It was the smarter choice, and the safer one. He trusted his reflexes, trusted the animal’s instincts braided into his own.

He was sure this woman wouldn’t pull punches any more than Maeve had, especially since unlike in the case with Maeve, Noah didn't have to give any instruction beforehand. “I’ve dodged arrows before,” he said, voice low with a steady certainty. "So this should be fun." Then he shifted.

The lynx gave a firm nod, and readied. She said she could heal him, after all.

NOAH

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

The easy confidence of his response has her grin widening further. There’s nothing quite like getting to watch someone who’s adept at their work, and while dodging maybe isn’t the usual line of boasted skills for most, it’s no easy feat (she knows, she’s tried and failed plenty) and it is a valuable ability. Even better, he says it’ll be fun. She laughs honestly at that, tilting the bow in her arm towards him. ”I think I just might like you yet,” she murmurs, though he’s already bounding away as the cutest little Lynx.

Affording a moment to awww after him, she then steadies up and reaches back for an arrow. She withdraws it from the enchanted quiver, it’s super sharp point catching the light with a wicked gleam as she nocks it. He said he could dodge, and it looks like he could take a hit or two from her beside, not that she’s hoping it comes to that, though she’s no idea that misheard her and thinks she can heal him when she very much cannot. She dips into the stance of drawing the arrow back, one eye closed and taking aim, steadily leading in the way she expects he’ll run. She exhales once, long and steadying, then lets the arrow fly towards him.

---

1/4 fires a sharpened arrow at him

The Pencil Sharpener | An earthen quiver that sharpens any arrow placed inside.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Upgraded | Cost: Action

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

The lynx moved the instant the bowstring snapped.  This form always felt like slipping into something inevitable. The world sharpened. Every sound crisped at the edges. He could hear her exhale clearly. Instinct took hold of Noah’s body, pulling him low and sharp to the right as the arrow sliced through the space where his shoulder had been a heartbeat before. It hissed past his ear, but did not touch him. Gravel scattered beneath his paws as he pivoted, the shift smooth, practiced and elegant.

Ears pinned forward, muscles coiled, he circled wide, offering her a moving target that dared her to keep up. He didn’t run in a straight line, though. Instead he darted in a weaving pattern, quick bursts of motion punctuated by sudden, staccato pauses that let him read her posture for the briefest of moments. Eyes sharp and quick, usually following the speediest hares the same color as snow across the tundra and through the Greenwing. Today, he was determined to let instinct outpace memory.

[1/4]

NOAH

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

She doesn't pull back immediately, but remains poised as if still aiming, carrying the arrow via her sightline, breath, and posture despite the fact it's long since sailed away from each of those measurements, nothing better than a spring to shove it forth. It's tiring to hold it, but she's just begun, and the effect seals the response of her hit into each calculated movement. Would have had him, if he hadn't dipped so expertly. The neutral focus on her face cracks into a small, impressed smile.

It should be worth noting that usually an arrow is best loosed at unsuspecting targets. When hunting, it's the element of surprise combined with the accuracy that lands your kills. In battle, what limited experience she has, she suspects her foes will be actively coming at her instead of dancing around in a field with every loose and limber move they have. Today won't be about if she can mark him, again she'd rather not have to figure out a way to patch him up, but if there'd be any moments where she could have shot him, were he someone less aware, or slower, or more violently inclined to close the distance between them and make his movements more fluid. She isn't tracing blood today, but shadows.

She reaches back behind her head to gather another arrow from her quiver and puts it back in place. Her arms hold the bow and arrow firm and solid, pulling back as she squints and leads and guesses again at where he might go. She hasn't been watching long enough to find any discernible pattern yet, because even in a supposed chaotic frolic, he'll have a favorite series of moves—ones that are easier to pull off because the body is secretly very lazy, probably using the side he's a little bit stronger on but doesn't even notice, or avoiding an old wound that hasn't ever healed quite the same. So for now, she looses a shot, not quite in the dark, but the haze of possibilities and ideas that make it all wonderfully gray.

---

2/4 fires a sharpened arrow at him

The Pencil Sharpener | An earthen quiver that sharpens any arrow placed inside.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Upgraded | Cost: Action

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

The second arrow left her bow with a different rhythm—he heard it in the tension of her exhale, the slight shift of her stance, the subtle recalibration of her aim. He surged left first in a deliberate, almost too obvious a dodge and then cut sharply back the opposite way as the arrow whistled toward him. It curved closer this time, her aim clever, anticipating one of the easier paths he could have taken. The fletching brushed the longer fur along his flank as it passed, grazing but not striking. A clean near-miss. She was learning him.

He caught his momentum in a low skid across the gravel, stones scattering beneath his paws and thunking into nearby puddles of mud.  He used the slide rather than fought it, tucking weight into his haunches and springing forward again. His tail flicked to correct his balance as he veered toward the leftmost edge of their makeshift field, far enough to force her to turn, but not far enough to break the dance.

He paused only long enough to meet her gaze across the distance, ears pricked, eyes bright with challenge.

[2/4]

NOAH

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

He’s undeniably beautiful as he moves. Managing to be graceful and powerful, adorable and terrifying, all at once. His skills remain strong as he dodges her next arrow, never letting up on his dance of survival. Although, she’s content with how close she managed to get despite everything. ”You’re very good at this!” she hollers out to him. Maybe it should be no surprise given his extra limbs and smaller shape, but he’s the one taking all the risks, and one mistake could be painful. It’s not easy to maintain a high level of focus for a long time, or to constantly be bounding and shifting, muscles better at releasing energy in bursts usually.

She readies another arrow, her stance forced to shift more as he swings around wider, pushing her now too. She squints, taking aim, steps slow but moving. Her own motion now is a new factor to build in, and with less certainty, she fires an arrow at him again.

---

3/4 fires a sharpened arrow at him

The Pencil Sharpener | An earthen quiver that sharpens any arrow placed inside.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Upgraded | Cost: Action

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

With the way he was moving, it didn’t matter that had misheard her. Thus far, healing was not necessary. No arrows sunk into his skin. They didn’t even slice into him in their passing. He was able to dodge neatly, cleanly, and with a smooth precision that only gave whisper to one thing:

Noah had once been a demigod.

Noah turned and spun, spine coiling tight before he sprang left—then abruptly veered right in a sudden, deceptive twist. If he could break her rhythm, tangle a thread of uncertainty into her next aim, he would take that advantage. Each motion was deliberate: the sharp stop that wasn’t quite a stop, the leap that landed half a stride shorter than it should have, the pause just long enough for her to think she’d seen a pattern forming. Then he bolted again. The lynx angled his path wide, then abruptly cut inward—inviting her to wonder for a heartbeat if he meant to rush her, or simply to force her to rethink her shot entirely.

The twinkle came to his glacier eyes as he flicked them to hers momentarily, a jesting, taunting look that read like a challenge to her compliment. 

---

[3/4]

NOAH

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

As expected, her movement added into the mix makes her shot land further out, less precise and sure. He's also a continued jumble of motion, and it appears perhaps he caught onto her trick, seeming to purposefully ramp up the random spring of his coiling and bounding directions. The faintest chuckle leaves her, barely audible even to her, because damn if that isn't frustrating as hell, but also delightfully problematic.

She reminds herself not to get hasty, her next arrow nocked and ready as she squints down the sight of her arm and trails him with her aim. It soon becomes exhausting, trying to pinpoint not only his current position, but where he might be in time for her arrow to strike, darting to and fro so rapidly she's swinging her arm back and forth like an indecisive radio dial. It's only when he twists and begins to rush at her that she suddenly sucks in a breath, the thrill of adrenaline spiking, cutting through some of her throughs with a decisive call for action. In an actual fight, she would not have time to dawdle, and honestly with him approaching her, it made it easier to keep him in line of the arrow.

So she fires, quick and sure and half prompted by instinct, but she aims at his shoulder as the slope of it comes for her.

---

4/4 fires a sharpened arrow at him

The Pencil Sharpener | An earthen quiver that sharpens any arrow placed inside.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Upgraded | Cost: Action

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive