[Training] [se] stronger than all of it

Deimos Long hellhound limbs had stretched and unfurled across vast fields until time seemed incapable of defining. A way to keep himself moving, a way for all the cacophonies in his head to cease, a way for the monotonous roil of failure to stop sinking deep into his spine. A Stygian blur against outcrops of fields and ferns, where they seemed ancient and new all at the same time, each foreign step a myriad of different compositions and filters, figments and fragments, until he could come upon the sea. And even then, he ran beside it, much like he would’ve as a child, ambling into sand, where here it was grass and embankments, and one false motion would mean sinking over the edge. An easy plunge. He motioned away from the sunken road until the ocean and tides were at his back. There was some level of comfort in its quiet solace, in knowing it was there and nothing else had ended yet. So eventually, he shifted, altering himself back into the Sword and not just the wild dog out in some untamed void – committed to his task. Seren would arrive eventually, and so he set about wandering further inland, away from the sharp cries of gulls, but always in view of the landscape’s surface and veneer; drawn, as he’d always been to mountains and currents alike. Belial and Zuriel had trailed after him at some point, and they meandered now – like shadows. They probably didn’t know what to do with him either. So while he waited, his mind and incantations were busy, concocting several targets as he might’ve done in his times as General of different lands. Each were in varying locations, some closer, some farther, and if there were a few designated figures on them, by some way of humor, Deimos let it remain for broken, wayward amusements. It was about all he had left anyway. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime

You have so much of everything but still you wanted more

She did not take long in catching up. Not quite able to keep up with the speed of the hellhound, Seren's lightened feet and ground-swallowing strides still left her only a few heartbeats behind. When she came bounding up to Deimos, night cloaked and tousled-haired and playfully tagged him on the shoulder, the young woman was only mildly out of breath and carried a wide grin on her face. Bright and cheerful again, after the long run. Her light was not only easy to dim - a sky where even stormclouds passed quickly by, and the capacity for finding silver linings was near endless.

"Told you I could keep up," Seren grinned, and pushed the unbound hair back out of the face. "This place is nice... I wonder if the sea freezes over in Deepfrost? It might be nice to go ice-skating if it does."

A shadow winged past the sun overhead and cast her face in blue for a moment. Umbra had returned from his hunt, scattering seagull feathers in his wake as he made ready to devour the meal.  Picking up a long white quill, Seren twirled it between her fingers for a moment, then popped open her pocket space and let it vanish into nothingness.

Casting a thoughtful glance at Deimos, she suddenly grinned and rummaged around in the starfilled void for a moment, before retracting her hand. Withdrawing, impossibly, the long wooden heft of a spear as she did so, until she was left standing with a polearm taller than herself reclined against a slender shoulder. The curved blade at the tip of the spear might be blunted for sparring, but gleamed viciously in the sun all the same - a sickle moon strayed into day, with lethal potential.

"I've been practicing," she told him, eyes glittering as she wiggled her eyebrows. "Care for some more exercise?"

Seren

Deimos The Sword had not quite worked himself into any manner of joviality as Seren had; though he did arch a brow as he put the finishing touches on the last target, wiping his hands clean and backing away. His eyes drifted towards the sea once more – for he’d yet to even think about Deepfrost, when his mind was so buried in a thousand other consequences and multitudes. “If not, an area could always be made.” Enough of his contorted, controlled water incantations, frozen over, and people could slip and slide their way along to their heart’s content. He made it a mental note, if they were ever given opportunities to not be embedded in hellholes again. Belial chirped towards Umbra, though there wasn’t a challenge in the notes – merely his eyes rounding at the semblance of feathers, diving over to one that landed nearby. But it didn’t take long for Seren to produce the weapon of her choice – and he arched a brow and permitted one round of light laughter, recognizing the polearm from his own sketches. “Fine,” he obliged, intending to makeshift his own, but narrowed his eyes first, indicating the target closest by. Did it resemble an adversary from recent events, complete with obnoxious, cartoonish features? Maybe. “Show me what you can do on that first.” Then he motioned over, intending to be on the sidelines, to watch and witness maneuvers and motions with the outfitted staff. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime

You have so much of everything but still you wanted more

There would always be a time after war, after battle, after pain and chaos and confusion. No storm lasted forever, and nights would always bring a new day. The seasons would change, as they were wont to do, and if not this winter then the one to come, or the one after that might give them time to play and make merry. Seren grinned at the notion with the young person's full conviction of immortality - nothing would ever happen to her - and cheerfuly skipped over to the indicated practice target when asked to do so.

"I've been shown the basic stances," she told him, and began to display them as instructed. A ready stance, the spear held horizontal to the ground as she faced the target like an archer might, sideways with feet set apart and gravity low. From there the weapon could be jabbed forth towards face, shoulder, gut or wrist, towards the lower legs. Or swept up and over her head to paint sweeping cuts to those same points, devastating if they landed. Seren went on to demonstrate how the butt of the spear could be used to guard, or serve a blunt jab towards the gut and internal organs - heavy and crushing - and how different stances allowed to guard, or attack, all in a flowing series of motions that blended into one another like flowing water.

The graceful arcs of the spear was soon added to by a steady 'thunk, thunk' as the woman landed her blows on the target dummy. She moved with decent amount of certainty against the still object, never faltering or hesitating - though there was a lack of killing intent behind any of her motions. Always more intrigued by the pleasure of moving her body than driven by the need to dispose of an enemy. She certainly enjoyed winning - but it was a far cry between that and relishing the drawing of blood or destruction of an opponent.

When Seren had demonstrated all she had been taught so far, she backed away from the target and issued a polite bow to Deimos - also as instructed - and waited for his assessment. "What do you think? I really enjoy this weapon, it's a lot of fun to use."

Seren

Deimos Certainly, there was time after war – but how many of them around to enjoy it? Deimos had fought in four, survived, endured, and only occasionally found merriment, and had to muffle the snort as she skipped over to the target. A nod indicating she could begin with the basics, and he watched, eternally a scrutinizing soldier, no matter if rank had been stripped from him. Warrior prowess didn’t fade, it stayed within frames of mind and stalwart deliberations. His eyes took in formidable stances, assaults that would’ve rendered, pierced, or jabbed, but a distinct lack of ferocity. Which was fine; not everyone had to maintain the wish or desire of maiming their opponent. But there would have to be other strategies instilled, if she chose not to go that route. “Good,” he surmised, content with the demonstration. Stepping forward, his hands produced a similar polearm, blunted as well for training. He’d used staffs previously in other worlds, but had much preferred blades; this would be an incoming experience and training for him as well. “Your stances are correct, and you have the motions down.” Whether or not it would constitute muscle memory would remain to be seen. “What about disarming?” So he too formed a familiar battle stance, weighted and formidable, polearm affixed in a diagonal plunge, waiting to see how she formulated the notion of knocking the armament out and away; if natural instincts took over, or if there were other filaments contorted within. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime

You have so much of everything but still you wanted more

It was not praise, so there was no need for gratification. Seren set emotions aside and focused on the task at hand. She matched Deimos challenging pose with a ready stance of her own, and kept her eyes on his chest and hands rather than the face. Switching side with her spear she stepped quickly forward and aimed a slicing cut towards the foremost of his hands, meant to splice open a wrist should the blade have been sharpened.

Today, the worst outcome might be some bruises.

"'Best way to disarm an opponent is to remove their ability to hold a weapon'," she quoted the answer from an instructor, when she had asked them the same thing.

Seren

Deimos “Clever,” he noted; except didn’t allow his hands to be bombarded by wood. He’d long since learned those tricks and accords in training to become what he was now – and so he cast his angle elsewhere, protecting the bones and muscles of his limbs, upward, so the blow hit the pole with its necessary force. If there was a smile there for the maneuver, he’d say nothing about it. Purposeful in his tactics, the General in him still marched on. “And how do you guard when someone tries to disarm you?” Quick, fast, efficient with his movements, the warrior shifted the staff so it might come underneath hers, abrupt, keen, and strong, implemented purposefully to potentially ricochet and knock, falter and fall, out of her grip and grasp. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime

You have so much of everything but still you wanted more

Already upon connecting with the pole of his spear rather than his hand, Seren was preparing to withdraw back into a ready stance. As she took a step back and Deimos retaliated, she was able to parry his upward slash by knocking the butt of her spear against his in one decisive move, meaning to  add more momentum to it and so force it to miss. "Like that?" she suggested, too focused on the spar to talk much.

Taught to turn every defensive move into another opportunity for attack if possible, Seren quickly switched up her grip on the spear and measured a slashing cut down towards Deimos' shoulder, aimed for the portion where neck and shoulder connected.

If the lingering smile on her face and the glitter in her eyes was any indication, the girl was having a wonderfully good time right now. Every shock jolting through her hands as metal and wood connected made her want to laugh in sheer delight. A far better sensation than with a sword - though how it was different she could probably not quantify in words.

Seren

Deimos Deimos much preferred the sword; but he’d relent on blades simply for practice with another armament. It was good to have experience in a range of weaponry – and he often did – but the staff had been neglected for incantations, shifts, and serrated edges for a while now. So he snorted as she maneuvered offense into her defensive motions, exactly as he often committed, and he pivoted, twisting and turning out its scale. She gained a nod for her suggestion, but nothing more, not when he was honing in, concentrating, on the angles, on the precision. It didn’t come as naturally to him as the hilt of his favored steel, and it required a firmer disposition and dedication. With his new position, the warrior utilized the foundations by bringing the staff towards her ribs, cutting along sides and edges, intending to see how she diminished this approach. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime

You have so much of everything but still you wanted more

He dodged away from her slash and Seren withdrew in response, retreating back to maintain the distance. The main point of the spear was to offer advantage of reach and to keep opponents away, and while the long polearm was versatile at any distance Seren was not yet practiced at wielding it shortened and up close.

As a counter attack was launched, measuring a slash to her ribs, she repeated Deimos own evasive gesture and withdrew again. Back, circling around to the side, as she switched up her grip once more to the other side. Then she struck, adder quick and sent the spear forward and down, edge snaking for the inside of Deimos shin.

Seren

Deimos Tactical maneuvers, evasions, dodges; all required of individuals who yearned to fight. Because a proportion of assaults was simply knowing how to read one’s adversary, how to bend away and avoid a siege – and there’d been a reason Deimos had survived so many things for so long. So only a slight smile hastened along the corner of his mouth as she took steps to back away from his strike, then leaned into her motions again. A quick pivot backwards, a shallow turn, and they were back where they started. He could’ve taken the hit without much, save for a bruise, but relenting to her wasn’t the natural way to any armament education. This time he too moved faster, bending into speed and precision, despite his massive size, intending to bring it around to her spine, and rattle her a little there. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime

You have so much of everything but still you wanted more

Seren was rather pleased with herself up to this point. She had been moving well and remembering the stances and counters, and the spear felt light in her hand. If ever she decided to focus on any one weapon, this really might be the best choice for her.

As Deimos dodged and launched a counter of his own however, the sudden burst of speed from the deposed general clearly demonstrated the difference in their abilities. Before Seren even quite registered what he was doing, Deimos had moved to her side and swung the spear towards her back. She didn't have time to do more than register that she wouldn't be able to dodge this; then the wood connected with her spine and sent the girl sprawling, head first into the ground.

Her spear clattered away across the ground, and for a moment she was treated to the painful, disorienting sensation of drawing for breath only to find that the lungs had not shown up for work that day. When she finally was able to suck in a breath, it was with a rattling sort of cough that hurt almost as much as the landing had.

But... well. Seren was used to being knocked around. Before her eyes had cleared completely she was already crawling for her spear, arms and legs working to bring her back on her feet. It wasn't working as well as it should - nothing was - but her fingers still managed to reach the wooden haft. Grabbed it. And swung it blindly over herself, back to where she thought Deimos might be.

It didn't register until later that she had grabbed the bladed end of the weapon - something that would have cost her fingers if it had been sharpened.

Seren

Deimos The Sword blinked at the sprawling figure on the grass – arching a brow, withholding a snort at the sudden impact and descent; and only standing, hovering, a short distance away. As she coughed and hacked, clearly the wind knocked out of her, he crouched, presuming this wasn’t a snare or a way to get him closer in some vicious assault, shaking his cranium. “You all right?” And when her spear did manage to swing at him, it hit the top portion of his boot, making a light tap along that might’ve rapped or been painful if it was shin or uncovered ankle. For his part, he made a gesture to grab her weapon, gently, no pulling or tugging, until she was righted, and extended his hand too, so she might be able to gain her bearings again. “I believe that may be enough for today,” he advised, rising from the ground, waiting for her answer. If he knew anything about Seren, it could go either way – emboldened by her missteps, or content to leave it alone for another day. There was always the option of mauling the remaining targets. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime

You have so much of everything but still you wanted more

Hauled up onto her feet with Deimos' help, Seren grunted something under breath that was perhaps better off not heard. Rubbing at her back and wincing, she gave the Sword a baleful stare, fighting spirit far from extinguished... But after attempting a few steps and realizing that her spine kept wanting to bend over, the girl sighed.

"You're probably right," she grumbled. "Rats... I wanted to impress you. Not eat dirt." Spitting out some gravel to emphasise her point, Seren leaned against her spear for support. The temptation to summon a critter to immediately heal the bruise was strong, but she set it aside for later.

Might as well savor the realization of her own weakness while she was still sore.

Seren