Elide
Elide can't help but relax with a small smile on her face as Noah falls into step behind her, following her into the target training area. There's little in the way of much more conversation as she readies her crossbow and fires a well-practiced shot. At his compliment, a knowing look is struck in his direction, "It's easier when the target isn't moving."
She moves back to allow him adequate room, watching how he steadies himself against the weight of the throw. Her eyes follow the spear as it moves through the air with intention rather than speed, an impressed frown upon it hitting the target. Noah, however, seems less pleased with this.
Better with the bow indeed. While, in her opinion, the crossbow is the better weapon, she also understands Noah's appreciation for his family's traditions. She herself has learned to appreciate them, as well, and there is nothing inherently wrong with using the bow either. It can be a strong weapon in the right hands, and she knows that Noah is definitely proof of that. He needs no confirmation from her, of course.
Her brows raise at the want for more of a spar, though, and then he says something she's not quite expecting. Maybe she should have. Her chin tilts downward at the prompted thought of her brother's death and she frowns again - this time not because she's impressed. But she makes no more mention of the subject since Noah doesn't seem to have anything else to say about it.
"Well, in that case, let's move on to the sword," she turns sharply and rests the crossbow on a nearby weapons rack. She trades it for a simple shortsword, something that can easily be swung with one hand. It has a different weight and feeling from the longswords she's practiced with more recently.
"Here," she grabs one for Noah and offers the hilt out towards him. Simultaneously, she asks, "How has everything been for you over these last few years?"
When they are both ready, so long as he has no qualms, she'll give him the opportunity of first strike with an encouraging nod.
She moves back to allow him adequate room, watching how he steadies himself against the weight of the throw. Her eyes follow the spear as it moves through the air with intention rather than speed, an impressed frown upon it hitting the target. Noah, however, seems less pleased with this.
Better with the bow indeed. While, in her opinion, the crossbow is the better weapon, she also understands Noah's appreciation for his family's traditions. She herself has learned to appreciate them, as well, and there is nothing inherently wrong with using the bow either. It can be a strong weapon in the right hands, and she knows that Noah is definitely proof of that. He needs no confirmation from her, of course.
Her brows raise at the want for more of a spar, though, and then he says something she's not quite expecting. Maybe she should have. Her chin tilts downward at the prompted thought of her brother's death and she frowns again - this time not because she's impressed. But she makes no more mention of the subject since Noah doesn't seem to have anything else to say about it.
"Well, in that case, let's move on to the sword," she turns sharply and rests the crossbow on a nearby weapons rack. She trades it for a simple shortsword, something that can easily be swung with one hand. It has a different weight and feeling from the longswords she's practiced with more recently.
"Here," she grabs one for Noah and offers the hilt out towards him. Simultaneously, she asks, "How has everything been for you over these last few years?"
When they are both ready, so long as he has no qualms, she'll give him the opportunity of first strike with an encouraging nod.
I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire
for something beyond the daily life
for something beyond the daily life
