Elide
Elide's brows raise, smile gone, as Deimos takes up a demonstration. Her fingers flex and she looks at his raised sword thoughtfully, his words reflecting as recognition in her gaze. She is a willowy, lithesome thing. Easily carved into pieces of inorganic flesh should she find herself unfairly disadvantaged in such an encounter. A dummy could not retaliate, and she had cut it down with this knowledge, but... perhaps she should have been treating it less like an inanimate object and more like a real opponent. Words came to mind, something she'd read before; 'the worst mistake you can make is to underestimate the enemy'.
Her jaws tense. She determines to try again, lifting her sword to do so, averting her gaze back to the dummy, when Aisha's voice cuts through.
Surprise alights her features when the woman tells her that she has power, an objective. It's not often that Elide receives recognition, especially not so openly. It stuns her, falters the words on her lips, because she knows that alone won't save her. She dips her head in acknowledgement. The lifted sword stoops back to her side.
It doesn't matter though, what she might say, because Deimos invites her to spar against Aisha - and Aisha is more than ready. She almost makes a show of it, discarding her furs, drawing the sword carried on her hip, and striking a battle-ready pose.
And suddenly, Elide smiles again. That familiar hunger recoils at her center, drawing her sword back up. It's of a different make than Aisha's, and so is Elide's posture, but this doesn't bother her. She stands with more rigidity on the surface but, underneath, she is ready to move.
So she takes the advice, she bears the sword by her midsection, blade down, no intention of lifting it over her head for a mighty blow. Her smile is gone, the stony focus and composure taking its place. There isn't much more contemplation before she moves forth, presenting her left foot first even though the swing comes from the right with a quick, successive step. This is aimed to disarm Aisha, to make the move {initially} unpredictable - whether that works or not is up to the other woman's interpretations.
Her sword clashes against Aisha's with intent, both hands on its hilt, steps rushed forward to push and pressure, to rise and bend and break, to give no room for escape. She doesn't underestimate Aisha's ability to counter her with ease, but she does wonder how she'll do it, dark gaze lifting to try to read the Attuned's face as she engages.
(Elide rolled a 14 on hit)
Her jaws tense. She determines to try again, lifting her sword to do so, averting her gaze back to the dummy, when Aisha's voice cuts through.
Surprise alights her features when the woman tells her that she has power, an objective. It's not often that Elide receives recognition, especially not so openly. It stuns her, falters the words on her lips, because she knows that alone won't save her. She dips her head in acknowledgement. The lifted sword stoops back to her side.
It doesn't matter though, what she might say, because Deimos invites her to spar against Aisha - and Aisha is more than ready. She almost makes a show of it, discarding her furs, drawing the sword carried on her hip, and striking a battle-ready pose.
And suddenly, Elide smiles again. That familiar hunger recoils at her center, drawing her sword back up. It's of a different make than Aisha's, and so is Elide's posture, but this doesn't bother her. She stands with more rigidity on the surface but, underneath, she is ready to move.
So she takes the advice, she bears the sword by her midsection, blade down, no intention of lifting it over her head for a mighty blow. Her smile is gone, the stony focus and composure taking its place. There isn't much more contemplation before she moves forth, presenting her left foot first even though the swing comes from the right with a quick, successive step. This is aimed to disarm Aisha, to make the move {initially} unpredictable - whether that works or not is up to the other woman's interpretations.
Her sword clashes against Aisha's with intent, both hands on its hilt, steps rushed forward to push and pressure, to rise and bend and break, to give no room for escape. She doesn't underestimate Aisha's ability to counter her with ease, but she does wonder how she'll do it, dark gaze lifting to try to read the Attuned's face as she engages.
(Elide rolled a 14 on hit)
never before had the song of war
been the song of hope ascending
been the song of hope ascending
