[Training] [se] stronger than all of it

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