Wessex might be uncertain if Rory would practice, but she needn't worry: he would, because he still very vividly remembered the faces of Edrei and Ashetta as they promised to kill him. And if he could prevent, that, well... He was rather invested in his own existence, and in prolonging it. It might take him a long, long time before he could rely on his skills with a physical weapon, but magic? Magic felt.. easier.
He felt strangely pleased to draw a chuckle from her with his mock attack, glad for the break from all the grim and hopeless prospects of the world. It was a little ray of sunlight (starlight) in his darkness, and he gave her a small, grimacing grin.
But then they were back in business. Wessex handled the knife like Rory handled horses: with ease and familiarity, her fingers and the smooth, cold, deadly surfaces old friends. Rory drank it all in, sometimes stepping around her, sometimes just cocking his head, to watch it from a different angle, noting the way her fingers wrapped around the hilt in the different positions.
He liked the first hold. It looked relatively secure and easy, but still dangerous. (Duh. Knives were sharp objects.) Then Wessex changed hold and made two mock stabs towards him, which had him stepping back slightly. She had demonstrated the jabs very slowly, but he couldn't help but think of how devastating such a thing would've been, had she moved with her natural speed... He would've been dead before he knew it.
He shivered slightly, watching her walk away with the knife concealed, then drop into a stance, ready to punch holes in someone's body.
"Right," he said, sounding more firm than he felt. Walking towards her with his knife just loosely laid over his palms he stopped close-ish, demonstrating the first hold—decently, ish, and waited for her corrections. Once she had fixed his grip he moved the knife experimentally through the air a couple of times, feeling how it moved. Then he moved on to the second hold, and let her correct him, before repeating the process of feeling how it moved through the air.
Then he switched back to the first hold. "I don't think I have a ready stance," he admitted ruefully, but he.. well, he tried; he put his feet a little further apart for balance, bent slightly at the knees and shifted his weight forward onto the balls of his feet. It was easier to spring into motion that way, after all.
Training post 4/4!
He felt strangely pleased to draw a chuckle from her with his mock attack, glad for the break from all the grim and hopeless prospects of the world. It was a little ray of sunlight (starlight) in his darkness, and he gave her a small, grimacing grin.
But then they were back in business. Wessex handled the knife like Rory handled horses: with ease and familiarity, her fingers and the smooth, cold, deadly surfaces old friends. Rory drank it all in, sometimes stepping around her, sometimes just cocking his head, to watch it from a different angle, noting the way her fingers wrapped around the hilt in the different positions.
He liked the first hold. It looked relatively secure and easy, but still dangerous. (Duh. Knives were sharp objects.) Then Wessex changed hold and made two mock stabs towards him, which had him stepping back slightly. She had demonstrated the jabs very slowly, but he couldn't help but think of how devastating such a thing would've been, had she moved with her natural speed... He would've been dead before he knew it.
He shivered slightly, watching her walk away with the knife concealed, then drop into a stance, ready to punch holes in someone's body.
"Right," he said, sounding more firm than he felt. Walking towards her with his knife just loosely laid over his palms he stopped close-ish, demonstrating the first hold—decently, ish, and waited for her corrections. Once she had fixed his grip he moved the knife experimentally through the air a couple of times, feeling how it moved. Then he moved on to the second hold, and let her correct him, before repeating the process of feeling how it moved through the air.
Then he switched back to the first hold. "I don't think I have a ready stance," he admitted ruefully, but he.. well, he tried; he put his feet a little further apart for balance, bent slightly at the knees and shifted his weight forward onto the balls of his feet. It was easier to spring into motion that way, after all.
Training post 4/4!
