[Training] for old time's sake

Wessex! comes from behind her, from the farmhouse, and she hardly knows what she’s doing before Rory sweeps her into a hug, arms around her, and she finds herself awkwardly patting him back. The Ascended doesn’t touch others very often anymore. It’s… tolerabley nice, she decides, after they part. Feels odd, but also comforting. But before she can answer his question, the woman looks around and gestures for them to move in to the barn, and assuming that he follows, slides the door shut behind them. “It’s good to see you too. You ok?” she begins with a half-smile, moving into the center and leaning against a support beam. “I was captured; first by the Fae, and then they handed me over to Zariah. I managed to escape in the Greatwood with some help, but it was close… too fucking close, Rory.” The pit, the lightning storm, the draining magic, the intervention. It's been a whirlwind couple of days and it shows - just a little. In the way she's overly cautious, in the occasional pause to stop and listen to the environment, in the faintest grimace at admitting she could have lost. Lost her life, lost everything. Her inability to be sure if she could have escaped on her own, or not. That’s what haunts her at night. It’s not that she isn’t enough, isn’t strong enough or fast enough, it’s that she’s realized she can’t fight Zariah up close - and that’s what she’s currently good at. So, this walking weapon either needs some long-range offensive options, or she needs to get faster, or both. And if Rory is anywhere near Wessex’s headspace, he could probably use a physical outlet. To get rid of some nervous energy. To think more clearly. To just… function in this environment. And since they aren’t the kind of friends who fuck, so that just leaves fighting. “Up for a friendly spar?” she asks, not wanting to spend too much time dwelling on her feelings. “I could use some work against magic.” She needs to learn how to fight it, just in case she ever has to again. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm