Elide
Elide dips her head in acknowledgement, agreeing entirely with Deimos' sentiment. A new surge of ambition rises in her, taking on the form of a small yet wickedly knowing smile. Her gaze glints back up at Deimos and Aisha. She understands completely where this is sure to lead, though she also misses the silent communication. So, when Aisha speaks, Elide tilts her head. Her expression is at first, confused, but it doesn't take her long to figure it out. It makes sense now, that predatory darkness that shadows their eyes.
At Deimos' invitation, it's all Elide can do to keep herself from bursting at the seams like an excited child. Now the fun truly begins! Her normally stoic features are now grinning, and that is the only tell. Otherwise, she is moves after Deimos with control and respect. As they filter in not a moment too soon, Elide takes in the sight of the training area. The Shields are clearly a busy bunch, keeping their soldiers sharp, not using their title to sit on their laurels. Good. This is exactly what Elide is looking for.
Her grin fades into a satisfied smile but, she doesn't quite go for a weapon yet. She's considering which one to take, and in the mean time, she sheds her long, draping overshirt. Beneath is tighter, sleeveless shirt that hugs against her slender torso. It'll be easier to swing a sword if she is not weighed down by billowy fabrics and, for her, there is no need for keeping warm. With a glance around, she moves to select one of the longswords that's propped up along a nearby weapon's rack.
"I could show you my skills with the crossbow but, that would not be much of a challenge," she states simply, a bit of humor lightening her tone.
The hilt is gripped in both hands as she tests the weight and balance of it. It is a bit off-kilter, being that it has been used and abused.. quite a lot. It certainly has character, scuffs and scratches along the sharpened blade to tell its story of teaching new soldiers how to properly respect and use such a weapon. Elide needs no lectures, and she does not look to either Deimos or Aisha for direction. She merely needs to put her knowledge to practice, and this is her chance to do so.
As far as training dummies are concerned, she understands that skill is not so important here but form and confidence. So, she concentrates on that, letting her focus freeze over everything else, stilling emotions that might've once made a heart pound, blocking out the two that stood there to judge her performance. She has potential for this, and she knows it. She needn't prove it, she need only do it.
In a mighty heave, she suspends the sword over her head. It angles through the air with heavy speed, the machinations in her body responding to the strength she was pulling from it and pushing into the swing. The blade angles, twists, plummets - and the training dummy soon loses a chunk off of its head.
And yet, she finds that she is not satisfied with this single move alone. So, from the ground where the tip of the sword found its place, she reverses the swing to bring it back up, that same tip slashing through where a chest would be. The cut left is deep, but not deep enough. She strikes the exact same spot again with icy precision. Pieces of wood go flying with each sweep of the blade as she continues like this until the dummy is in a sorry state.
It is not a fancy-footed presentation, it is a cut to kill presentation, but she doesn't waver a single time. There is no heat or fire or storm in her, only dark intent. Letting everything fall back in around her, Elide lowers her weapon and looks over at her judges. If she were not an Ascended, there might be nervous sweat on her brow and a winded expression on her countenance. But she is, so there are no such remnants of fatigue or anxiety. Only the wide-eyed look she gives them, her uncertainty seeping through once and for all.
"Well, be honest." She offers a brief smile.
At Deimos' invitation, it's all Elide can do to keep herself from bursting at the seams like an excited child. Now the fun truly begins! Her normally stoic features are now grinning, and that is the only tell. Otherwise, she is moves after Deimos with control and respect. As they filter in not a moment too soon, Elide takes in the sight of the training area. The Shields are clearly a busy bunch, keeping their soldiers sharp, not using their title to sit on their laurels. Good. This is exactly what Elide is looking for.
Her grin fades into a satisfied smile but, she doesn't quite go for a weapon yet. She's considering which one to take, and in the mean time, she sheds her long, draping overshirt. Beneath is tighter, sleeveless shirt that hugs against her slender torso. It'll be easier to swing a sword if she is not weighed down by billowy fabrics and, for her, there is no need for keeping warm. With a glance around, she moves to select one of the longswords that's propped up along a nearby weapon's rack.
"I could show you my skills with the crossbow but, that would not be much of a challenge," she states simply, a bit of humor lightening her tone.
The hilt is gripped in both hands as she tests the weight and balance of it. It is a bit off-kilter, being that it has been used and abused.. quite a lot. It certainly has character, scuffs and scratches along the sharpened blade to tell its story of teaching new soldiers how to properly respect and use such a weapon. Elide needs no lectures, and she does not look to either Deimos or Aisha for direction. She merely needs to put her knowledge to practice, and this is her chance to do so.
As far as training dummies are concerned, she understands that skill is not so important here but form and confidence. So, she concentrates on that, letting her focus freeze over everything else, stilling emotions that might've once made a heart pound, blocking out the two that stood there to judge her performance. She has potential for this, and she knows it. She needn't prove it, she need only do it.
In a mighty heave, she suspends the sword over her head. It angles through the air with heavy speed, the machinations in her body responding to the strength she was pulling from it and pushing into the swing. The blade angles, twists, plummets - and the training dummy soon loses a chunk off of its head.
And yet, she finds that she is not satisfied with this single move alone. So, from the ground where the tip of the sword found its place, she reverses the swing to bring it back up, that same tip slashing through where a chest would be. The cut left is deep, but not deep enough. She strikes the exact same spot again with icy precision. Pieces of wood go flying with each sweep of the blade as she continues like this until the dummy is in a sorry state.
It is not a fancy-footed presentation, it is a cut to kill presentation, but she doesn't waver a single time. There is no heat or fire or storm in her, only dark intent. Letting everything fall back in around her, Elide lowers her weapon and looks over at her judges. If she were not an Ascended, there might be nervous sweat on her brow and a winded expression on her countenance. But she is, so there are no such remnants of fatigue or anxiety. Only the wide-eyed look she gives them, her uncertainty seeping through once and for all.
"Well, be honest." She offers a brief smile.
never before had the song of war
been the song of hope ascending
been the song of hope ascending
