[Training] [OPEN] Polishing the Family Silver

{{A request for any who wish to join this thread: I often have trouble loading/reading posting tables, so I would appreciate if people don’t use them here. Thank you!}}

Neither of his run-ins with the haunted squash had ended with Jigano feeling particularly proud of himself. His little game of tag had left him exhausted and bruised, and he’d gotten his sword stuck in a gourd when he’d tried to impress a pretty girl. He was, admittedly, a little out of practice in the finer points of bladework, but he hadn’t realized just how out of shape he’d become since his unexpected trip between worlds. Or maybe it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘becoming’ as an overreliance on magic and charms to give him the semblance of strength and durability. With those stripped away he was, well, he was simply… himself.

There were, theoretically, worse things to be, but he needed to become better. He had spent the last several years of his life hiding from his past, carrying the scars, the guilt… but he hadn’t grown any stronger from hauling that weight around his shoulders. Clearly. He was out of the world-saving business… but he was making new friends here, away from all the reminders of his past failures, and he wanted to be able to save them if it came down to it.

Which was, more or less, why the white haired, blue-eyed man was standing in the afternoon sunlight, practicing his lunges against individual leaves fluttering in the gentle breeze, trying to pin or slice them before they fell, red and gold, to the ground at his feet. His clothing was simple but well-made, tightly-woven linen and soft leather in pale greens and warm browns, and though his attention was fiercely focused on his task his senses were open to the woodland around him, as only an Attuned's could be.

Ashe had been trying to do better. Truly, she was. She was still painfully lost, but gods she was trying. That had to count for something, didn't it? She had gone to see friends, she had.. she'd opened herself up to something she was sure she'd never have again, and so far? She'd stopped considering losing herself completely. Instead, she found herself refocusing her attention, skirting away from the pain and the anguish and doing what she did best: avoided those bullshit feelings so she could do what she needed to do.

She was going to get out of this place one way or another, but her mother had been right. Hiding away in the woods, living there, nothing more than a drunken husk of the hellstorm she was? It wasn't like her. So the assassin was doing as Vervain had bade her: she was lighting the damn fire under her ass. Starting with training again. She'd lapsed in her consistency and care for it that episode she suffered, but today she was working her way back up to her usual glory with a three mile run. She'd get back to five, eventually more, but her lack of sleep and lack of food left her less capable than she had been months ago in Northaven.

Ashe had only reached the end of her first mile down a well worn game trail of the Woodlands when she heard the familiar sound of... a sword whisking through the air. She was on the alert immediately as the small-framed woman slowed her pace to a walk, and it was with absolute silence that she followed the sound without thought.

She watched from the distance of a few trees, standing entirely still until she vanished from sight entirely. She didn't know this man, had never met him or seen him. She watched his lunges with narrowed eyes.. assessed her surroundings carefully before seeming herself free of an ambush.. and she moved, revealing her form as she stepped into the clearing where the man slashed at leaves.

"You look like you could use a sparring partner," the wolf girl said smoothly in way of greeting. She reached back and pulled Reckoning from its scabbard at her back, and the dark metal of her sword glinted in the muted light of fall. She spun it deftly in her hand a moment, tilting her head at him. "Name's Ashe " she said as she watched him with piercing fire blue eyes. How smart was the man? Did he have any sense of self preservation not to trust her, or was he complacent and safe in his life? She leveled her sword and quirked a brow at him, the side of her mouth pulling into a half smirk.

Jigano

Jigano had been paying attention to his surroundings, but somehow had missed the approach of the woman through the dry autumn leaves. He spun at her voice, rapier dropping immediately into a guard stance as he eyed her warily. Blue eyed, like him, but dark haired instead of light - as was her blade. Not a sword he wanted to pit his rapier against, however sturdy his sword had once been. It had lost too much of its magic in the crossing, not only the enchantments to hurt his foes but also those that protected it, and even the starmetal that had formed its core had somehow been transmuted to simple steel. Excellent steel, silvered with skill and still forged by the hand of a master craftsman... but no longer something he could swing with impunity.

And he was the son of a master smith, as well, even if his talents hadn't run in that direction. He knew a dangerous blade when he saw one - and a strange one. It hadn't been forged in any normal way that he knew of, which meant some kind of magic in its making, likely folded into the blade along with the steel - or other metal - that formed its heart.

It was held by a cocky creature, too, in both stance and expression. Younger than him, but with a sword like that, well... only a fool would make assumptions that youth meant inexperience. He hadn't been that much older when he'd helped his... friends... hold off a Myrmidon, after all.

And she had snuck up on him.

"Not at all... Ashe," he spoke, keeping his voice level and his eyes on her. "Merely an exercise in active meditation. If I'm disturbing your corner of the woods I'll be on my way to somewhere else." His sword stayed still in his hand, held defensively but angled so as to be non-threatening - at least, not directly.

Ashe couldn’t help the flash of satisfaction when the white-haired male spun on her, entirely on his guard. Her eyes glimmered as she regarded him and his delicate rapier, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet. He was smart, at least, not to trust her presence. She wouldn't have hurt him of course, this assassin wasn't in the business of slaying innocent people anymore, not for anything. She had been done being a knife in the hands of a monster some time ago. Maybe she'd discovered she was really fucking bad at saving people, helping people.. but that didn't mean she was ready to return to what she was good at.

Then he.. he didn't want to spar? Ashe's smirk fell into a frown at that, watching him drop to a subtler guard, and the curved tip of Reckoning sagged towards the ground. She looked him over - fit, not a whole lot older than her, and seemed to hold that rapier with confidence.. maybe a worthy opponent. She held his blue gaze with her own, and she wondered at his name. She nearly smiled - why was it refreshing to meet someone that held some kind of paranoia? Everyone had been so complacent in Northaven, no one had grasped the terrifying demons that stalked them from the shadows, the bloody crusade she and her friends had been on to try and save them while they all squabbled over petty blueblood politics.

”Active meditation?” she echoed. Teirnan, one of the senior assassins, had been pretty damn fond of meditating.. and she'd hated it. Still hated it. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced him over, and then to the falling leaves. Meditation had largely only been forced on her by Teirnan, and even then it was for the purpose of learning how to focus and recognize magic use before it hit her. Otherwise, things like that had been largely met with scorn and disapproval by the other four seniors.. and Master. Ashe pursed her lips and looked back at the man with the rapier.

”I'm the one who disturbed you right? This isn't my corner.” Though she wouldn't have minded a slice of territory around this new world to call her own. She casually waved her sword back in the direction of the trail she'd been jogging. ”I mean, if you'd rather keep stabbing at leaves I can go, Mister…?”

It was a relief when the tip of her sword sagged, but Jigano didn't drop his guard. He didn't like that she'd snuck up on him, or the abilities that indicated. She'd been cocky before - likely for a reason if she'd been able to watch him unnoticed for any length of time - and her frown of disappointment didn't make her any less dangerous than the earlier smirk. He'd omitted his name deliberately, not wanting to draw further attention to himself or give her something to trace him with. Old habits, and quick reactions that had once served him well.

Less useful now, perhaps, in a land where white hair on a young person was even rarer than it had been back home, and he couldn't help but draw attention. Nor could he easily disguise himself or simply move on; he'd lost the magic that he'd once relied on for such illusions, and the disconcerting barrier locking them all in prevented escape in any longterm sense.

If only his gear had still had its enchantments he would have been more confident! Without them, though, his best defense was to retreat... but he was uncertain of his ability to do even that against someone whose skills he had yet to see in action.

”Yes?” he agreed hesitantly as the newcomer repeated his phrasing and appeared to reevaluate him – for good or ill he wasn’t sure. Had she really not heard of it? Then again, there were many for whom even normal meditation was as good as a fairy tale. ”Calming the mind while moving the body. For some, it’s easier than trying to achieve mental focus while sitting still.” More pedantic than he preferred, but in times of stress bad habits tended to surface. A patron received the information they asked for, as free from bias as he could deliver it.

He truly hadn’t been expecting the abrupt… courtesy? of her ceding the small glade to him, but when she waved the sword he tensed, bringing his own blade to a stronger guard. He might have felt embarrassed when it turned out to be not an attack, but a request for his name… but he still didn’t trust her farther than he could throw her.

And he was not a strong man, physically speaking.

”Jigano,” he granted her, managing a semblance of grace in the delivery of his name. ”And I am… not fond of being surprised, or approached by strangers with drawn steel.” Slowly, reluctantly, he let his guard drop a little, acknowledging that she’d ceased openly threatening him. ”What, may I ask, are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

If focusing while moving the body was active meditation, then she did that pretty damn frequently. While Ashe knew how to remain still for hours at a time, movement, action, doing was more her speed. She watched him carefully with sharp eyes, a slow smile creeping back over her lips. He was so on edge! She was far more used to being steeply underestimated - as tiny as she was, many dismissed her as no true threat. It was a fact that served her well as Northwind's most infamous assassin.

Jigano. She commit the name to memory with his face, and she thought about shifting just to take in his scent. Her smile opened up into a full grin that looked like it should have been baring fangs, and she nodded. "Fair enough, Jigano," she said. Smart man. The wolf girl glanced down to Reckoning, smirking to herself just barely. Kalt had been masterful in his crafting of this blade, and she cared for it as lovingly as she cared for her old dagger. She had missed Candor sorely since she lost it to that great stone beast in Northaven, but this gleaming sword had been surpassing that fine dagger by miles.

She paused for a moment, considered making up something stupid like hunting for pumpkins or looking for someone's life to end. Not exactly the best way to earn herself a training partner, however, and so she opted for honesty. "Jogging," she said simply. "I don't usually encounter people on my runs - thought I'd come and take a look myself."

She glanced at her sword again, and then with an expert flip of the weapon in her hand, she spun it back behind her and slid it home to its scabbard once more... perhaps with a soft sigh. "So am I to take it as a no then?" she asked. "I make a good training partner." The convincing was done in good nature, a hint of humor in her tone. Anyone that knew Ashe knew that training and sparring was perhaps the only way she knew how to "bond" with anyone. Thinking back... it was how she had gotten to know most all of her friends. Even when she had first met her mother she requested they train together. What could she say? Combat was how she had gotten to know everyone for the majority of her life. She tried not to consider how not normal that was. Fighting people to make friends (or not) was her normal.

"Would sticks make you feel better than swords?" she asked wryly. Training the guild.. there had been no dulled weapons allowed.

‘Jogging’ wasn’t something Jigano had ever engaged in for recreation. It was the sort of thing one did while being chased, or racing a countdown. There were, however, tales of some mythical creatures that did so for fun… or, at least, a certain value of that word. He couldn’t help but arch a pale brow at her reasoning, but more in surprise than disbelief. ”Do you jog by here often?” She might very well; he was new enough that he was still exploring and had yet to determine any patterns to the places he’d found.

He relaxed further when the black sword was sheathed, lowering his own blade slowly so it no longer crossed between them. She seemed genuinely disappointed that he hadn’t immediately accepted her… observation - not quite demand, but neither so courteous as an offer – for a sparring partner. ”I’m also not used to being approached by strange women in the forest looking to start a fight,” he pointed out wryly, allowing himself a little humor now that the immediate threat of a bladed lunge was past – or at least, delayed. ”So I hope you can forgive my caution, Ashe.” True, she was petite… but the most talented and cold-blooded killer he had ever known – and spent over a year traveling with - had been shorter than this woman, and that one had moved with similar silence over every terrain. No, of all people Jigano was the last one to underestimate someone based on height or appearance. Especially in a world where he was still learning the rules.

But a decision had to be made, and soon. To accept her presence and try to figure out who and what she was… or to ask her to move along, and retreat himself.

Damn, but his curiosity was going to get him killed sooner rather than later.

”Sticks… might do for training,” he agreed cautiously, sheathing the rapier at last, though his stance remained tense and wary. ”And would save the wear and tear on our blades.” And the chance that her heavier sword might damage or break his lighter one, if her skill with it matched her silent movement. ”I think I saw one that will work for me over there, in fact.” He nodded to the side, from the direction he’d approached the little clearing, though he waited to start moving until he saw what direction she would go. ”Is this something you do often, then?”

Ashe flicked a fire-blue gaze to the bare and brittle trees around them as a chilled wind rattled their branches together, and her eyes fell back on him with a wry smile. "No, I don't," she answered. While Ashe ran every day, she stuck to meandering game trails, trying to find a new way every day, and some days she picked entirely different places from the woodlands. Since she started her workouts again, she stayed true to unpredictability. Old habits and all that.

Her smirk grew into a slow grin, and she crossed her arms over her chest to tilt her head at the white-haired male. He wasn't so bad, was he? It had been a long while since she'd met anyone knew, not since leaving the vast empire of Northwind for the small settlement of Northaven - where everyone knew almost everyone. She had yet to decide which she liked better - knowing everyone and everyone knowing her, or becoming anonymous again and the uncertainty of strangers. What kinds of intentions lurked in this man?

"Fair enough, Jigano," Ashe quipped back with her smile, narrowing her eyes at him. "But I wanted to spar, not fight. There's a difference."

She glanced between him and where he'd indicated for sticks, and she pursed her lips in thought. While sticks didn't carry the same weight or balance as a blade, he had a point - it would save her sharpening the blade later. She didn't wait for the man to move, Ashe stepped with ever-silent feet over the leaves of the forest floor,. She was keenly aware of Jigano as she moved in a modest arc around him and to the area he'd indicated, brilliant eyes scanning for... ah!

Ashe swooped down and turned back with a stick held at the ready towards her unexpected companion, eyes glimmering. The stick was the right length to mimic her sword, close in shape, but of course it was dramatically lighter than the fine blade. She gave it a few experimental twirls in her hand as she made careful steps around him, keeping the stick level and her eyes sharp - awaiting his move. "Are you from here?" she asked casually.

One pale brow arched at the abrupt answer, but he let it be, keeping focused on the woman's body language even after she put her sword away. Sometimes what wasn't said could be as telling as what was, and he knew a great deal about physical reactions and reading truth from lies. It was easier when he wasn't on edge and wondering if he was about to be running or fighting, though, and he relied on his instincts as best he could.

A breeze brought another scattering of red and gold autumn leaves from the trees around them, but he didn't so much as blink as they fluttered down between the two tense humans. He smiled tightly at her quip, without showing his teeth in the expression. "What a civilized place you must come from," he murmured, only half-joking. "Are you a soldier, or guard of some sort? Perhaps a knight-errant?" Not likely the last, but not impossible. But she was a warrior of some sort, if she sought out play-fighting for fun and training. Jigano wasn't sure he ever had crossed blades with another person when it wasn't in deadly earnest, or done as part of a choreographed performance. There hadn't been a lot of in-between in his line of work. Learn fast... or die trying.

He watched Ashetta move, no less wary now that their weapons were both sheathed - he had lost his quickest defense, after all. But her eerily silent steps only took her to the spot he'd indicated to claim a stick of a length similar to her blade. His brow went back up at her showy twirls, and he chose a spot a littler further away to search for his own 'weapon' - always keeping her in the corner of his eye. "I'm afraid not," he responded, not nearly as casual as he made it sound. "And something tells me you aren't, either. Are you one of the Northaven folk, then? Or from someplace... else?" He straightened with stick in hand, bringing it into the same guard position he had used earlier with his sword, and waited on the balls of his feet for her to make a move across the intervening distance between them.

Ashe nearly laughed outright at Jigano's guess at her profession. "Knight-errant?" Her voice was incredulous, but she couldn't exactly expect the white-haired man to have any clue. She shook her head with a scoff that could have been a laugh. DId she honestly look like a knight? Kalt would get a fucking kick out of that one. A knight. "No, certainly none of those things." She thought for a moment as she circled him, gauging the shift of his weight, the wary look in his eye. "Assassin," she finally admit, as her eyes assessed his stance with militant effeciency. She made no mention of her skill, her infamy, no matter how deeply she wanted to. Northwind's greatest assassin. There were times she missed the noteriaty.

"Are Northaveners so obvious?" she asked with a narrow of her eyes upon him. Suspicion prickled up her spine - how exactly would he know to pin her with the others of the settlement? Was his wariness of her an act? It easily could be. She had stumbled upon him, she remined herself. He had not come to her, there were no intentions to be had.. were there? She tried to throttle down the paranoia - no one was targeting her anymore.

The raven-haired girl abruptly made her first move. Her feet shifted and she darted forward with a full inhale, and she swept her stick to strike first for his ribs with her exhale. Whether the hit landed on his ribs or clacked against his stick, she swept around him and flicked her own 'weapon' down to strike at the back of his thigh. If she hit him, if she missed, it didn't matter - she danced quickly away to hopefully avoid any strikes from the man.

"So if you aren't from here, and you aren't one of us Northaven folk, then where are you from?" she continued on mildly, as if they weren't clashing... sticks. Sigh. "Were you talented with swordplay there?"

None of those things? Really? Once again that pale brow rose, a polite indicator of his incredulity as well as an invitation for her to continue. And continue she did… with an answer that startled the bard out of his usual careful control. Shock showed plainly on his face, and then pain--

His chest constricted, heart skipping a beat as memories tried to flood his thoughts, but he couldn’t -- wouldn’t -- deal with them right now. Riz… His gasp for air was slight and, for a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately seeking his center, his control, earned after years of searching.

Shut. It. Down. The words were stern, from a younger man, more innocent, less wounded – but still pragmatic. Drawing in a full breath, Jigano opened his eyes again, beautiful blue gone glacier-cold as he watched Ashetta with the same wariness mixed with something far more complex.

He didn’t ask for more – didn’t need more. He knew more about assassins than he’d ever wanted to, first-hand. The encounter had gone from startling to cautiously curious and now to grim tension on his part as he hefted his stick with a palm gone slick with emotions more complicated than simple fear.

”So numerous,” he corrected coldly.

He was watching her expectantly, waiting for the first move – and she didn’t disappoint. She came on the attack but he didn’t even try to meet the first swing. He hadn’t trusted the parry of his sword, and he was even less sure of his stick, so instead of a block he dodged, back and to the side on the diagonal, flicking his stick out not to attack but to touch her “blade” lightly – and maintain the contact, following her around and spinning dancer-graceful on the leaf-strewn grass. Of course an assassin would try to get behind him – that was Riz’s favorite place to be, even after he’d lost the element of surprise, and the woman did exactly as he’d expected.

Jigano’s jaw tightened and he twisted as Ashetta struck for his leg, this time flicking his stick down into bastard gardent and guiding her own just barely outside his thigh. He tried to riposte back on her, following her weapon with a twist of his wrist, but she was too quick even for his lunge, fading back before he was even close to tagging her.

”Elsewhere,” he replied tightly, shifting to circle and watch her guard. ”And only as much as I needed to get by.” This time as he finished speaking he advanced, striking not immediately for her body but for the inside wrist of the  hand holding the stick in a jab that followed through – whether it made contact or not – with a twist of his wrist to come at her shoulder from a slightly different inside angle – not killing blows, but disabling ones if it had been steel in his hand. Then, as she had done, he ghosted retreat, again at an angle designed to draw her after him.

The moment she mentioned just what she was, she sensed the shift in Jigano. Her eyes flashed and narrowed, and she stopped herself from smiling. That's better, she thought. She was used to all kinds of reactions when people found out she was an assassin, and she'd had far worse than what this man was displaying. Maybe she didn't kill people as her profession anymore - she had fought in blood and pain and despair to free herself from those shackles - but it would be a part of her for the rest of her life.

He had smoothly side-stepped her test blow to the ribs, following her and just barely tapping his stick against hers. Not bad, she thought, especially as her blade glanced away from his leg. He was quicker than she'd given him credit for, and she felt a cool calm sweep into her. She kept careful track of his movements as she stayed just out of his reach, keeping her feet moving over the rotting leaves of the woodlands.

Ashe quirked a brow at Jigano - she couldn't fault him for the vagueness, she had been, and she was an assassin after all. She saw his blow coming for her wrist - ouch, no thank you - and it was simple enough for the strike to miss. In the same fluid movement of pulling her arm back, her upper half dipped back to avoid his smooth follow-through. She followed his movement as he slipped by her, turning and keeping her front facing him. The assassin had to resist the urge to snap her stick in two, to switch to dual wielding. Once it had been a trademark. It had become a source of frustration ever since she lost her left pinky.

"By the looks of it, you needed to be quite a bit," she observed quietly. ”Do you miss your old world?” She wasted no time, darting forward with a soft exhale. She smoothly directed her stick towards his hip before she flipped it back, her feet not stopping as she slipped by him, her body angled towards him. She aimed a slash for his center as she swept by, falling into a defensive stance.

She was good, of course - he'd known that from the moment he'd realized she'd snuck up on him. Familiar with a blade, more so than him, from how eagerly she'd unsheathed her own to offer challenge - however couched in the pretty word of 'sparring.' But hearing that she'd been an assassin had changed how he viewed both her and the match, from cautious game to something far more intense - at least for him.

Sword fighting had always been more about the dance, for him; the graceful footwork, the sinuous spin of body and wrist. He hadn't set out to become a fighter, after all. He would never have survived as one, without his magic to rely on, or his friends to hold the front line. In more recent years he hadn't had much choice... but then, the opponents he faced had not been nearly so impressive, either.

Ashetta... was.

She evaded his first, light strike and the second more debilitating one with a fluid grace a part of him couldn't help but admire, even as a different part ground his teeth in frustration. All he outwardly showed, however, was the intense concentration and grim determination he had begun the fight with, feet moving over the ground in pattern that he'd hoped would provide an opening--

She spoke and the bard's eyes sharpened in recognition. This was his trick: distracting his enemy with clever wordplay so his sword could slip inside their guard. Wait for it... When she moved he was ready, stepping back to pull his hip out of reach and pulling his own blade back into short guard to protect his body-- the right move as she slashed and he once more deflected, though the nature of the guard prevented him from riposting as he turned with her. It didn't stop his counter attack a moment later, however - his right arm rising to the third quarter, crossbody and shoulder height as he twisted his wrist, bringing his stick around the outside of Ashetta's in a deft move that would be difficult - or at least, useless - with a longsword, even as slipped back with his left foot to present her a very narrow profile of his body. They were close enough from their last exchange that he only needed to extend - a jab at the assassin's face, aimed right between her eyes, and none too gentle.

"Not particularly," he spoke as he attacked, giving her back the same medicine, though with the breath control of one used to speaking and moving at once. "This world... suits me."

He's quick, she observed as he deflected each of her blows with the clack of sticks echoing into the crisp air. A smiled flicked over Ashe's lips as she slid her foot back, deep breaths making her feel lighter with every tense and feather of muscle. Jigano might not have been enjoying their encounter, but it was a kind of relief for this assassin. Day in, day out vigorous training being her life for thirteen years, she had been sorely missing this release.

She kept easy track of his movements - fluid and graceful.. but predictable for Northwind's greatest assassin. Nonwithstanding her ego, she was fast, and she did not not hesitate. Ashe narrowed her eyes as he swept easily to the outside of her "blade", and his jab towards her head forced her to dip sideways. She stepped around to the front of him, following through in her dodge of Jigano's stick. She swung her stick for his left side, her lip feathering into either a snarl or a smile as she darted swiftly forward to follow her strike.

She moved to slip around him - hardly more than a wisp as she flipped her stick around in her grasp, and with a half turn, she jabbed the back and to the tender small of his back. "I find it suffocating," she stated with controlled breath, unphased by conversation in combat - it had been the harsh reality of her life since she was five. Ashe quickly danced away once more - with her strength, she knew better than to engage for any more than rapid blows and dodges. "Just... a cage. Theres a bigger world."

As she faced him and prepared for his retaliation, she decided she didn't mind sparring with the aparently grouchy male.