[Training] nature offers a violence

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

The Sword knew resentment; it held a cold, acerbic touch down in the chilling denizens of his veins. Not an infrequent thing, with the taste of bitter, acrid spite, judgment and parallels of rancor, for all the disdainful moments cast about his frame in multitudes of lifetimes. He just wasn’t certain he held any for Aurelia any longer; time twisted and spurned in the same platitudes, and in between the haughty voids of those who’d thought themselves the better, the measured, the piercing, the defiant, he had so many other thoughts, machinations, and deviations to occupy himself. Maybe his discernment and conclusions lingered more on those who defied with idiocy and callousness now instead. He’d changed too, in the wake of wars and sovereignty and family; strength in foundations, trepidation in the thought of losing them all over again.

Perhaps he wouldn’t understand the sentiments held towards her until she stood before him once more anyway. The weight of grief and the methods undertaken to reckon with it was rarely endowed with sagacity.

So instead of clenching his jaw and waiting out the minutes, he’d stared upon the Temple and took in its majesty; snorting a little at the ostentatiousness, then figuring most of the Old Gods revered it simply for that alone. But he’d bowed his head, offered his sentiments and prayers to Safrin, then strode out of large, encompassing doors, still imposing as the crowd mingled around. Parting ways from some gawking eyes, he took several strides further down the length of the overwhelming building, before taking out his journals, intending to go through guild notes while he waited.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

The Trinity Temple loomed before Aurelia, its gothic spires piercing the clouds like the outstretched claws of a celestial beast. The sheer scale of the structure humbled her, a stark contrast to the untamed wilderness she had called home for so long. Sunlight filtered through the towering windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished marble floors, creating an atmosphere of reverence and awe.

Aurelia stepped across the threshold, the cool air of the temple a welcome respite from the midday sun. Her worn boots echoed softly against the stone, each step a hesitant exploration of this unfamiliar sanctuary. Her gaze swept across the vast expanse of the nave, taking in the soaring arches, the intricate carvings, and the rows of silent pews that stretched towards the distant altar.

A sense of wonder mingled with a touch of trepidation as she ventured deeper into the temple's embrace. The scent of incense, a heady blend of sandalwood and myrrh, hung heavy in the air. Her fingers brushed against the cool stone of a nearby pillar, its surface etched with ancient runes and symbols that whispered of forgotten lore.

She moved with a quiet grace, her leather tunic rustling softly against her skin. The sword, strapped securely to her back, felt reassuringly familiar, a tangible reminder of her purpose and her newfound strength.

As she navigated the corridors and dimly lit chambers, she caught glimpses of flickering candlelight and heard the hushed murmurs of prayer. The temple was alive with a subtle energy, a spiritual pulse that resonated with the depths of her own being.

Unable to locate Deimos within the temple's hallowed halls, Aurelia emerged back into the courtyard, her gaze scanning the surrounding area. There, she found him. Deimos stood tall and imposing, his dark hair catching the sunlight as he flipped through the pages of a worn leather-bound journal. The familiar sight of his broad shoulders and the quiet intensity of his focus brought a sense of anticipation.

Aurelia paused. Then, with a quiet step, she approached, her presence a subtle ripple in the tranquil atmosphere of the courtyard.

"Deimos," her voice carried a respectful warmth, "thank you for agreeing to meet with me."  She glanced around the courtyard, her gaze lingering on the towering spires of the temple. "This is quite a... unique setting for a sparring session," she remarked, a playful lilt in her voice.

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

Words flickered around and toward, and he loosened another breath before glancing over his shoulder at Aurelia; changed and not. The arch of his brow broke away the otherwise nonchalant depth of his features, eyes narrowing slightly, a very swift and careful study, before pulling away to his notebook again. “I did not think the gods would mind,” he gave with a shrug of his shoulders; movements speaking of a barbarity and effortless ease of violence long harbored and harpooned. They’d fought wars in their name after all. There were more still likely to come.

Taking those few moments, he couldn’t quite harbor the age-old bitterness, not yet or not now, and he placed the journal back into his bag, taking a few strides away from some passersby, until the courtyard opened another wake of space – only some bowed heads nearby along stone benches. “I had business to attend to here anyway.” Mostly of the guild variety, and not of the void – though its touch within Stormbreak meandered more towards the reigning seat than anything else, save for a few creatures. “How much have you practiced?” His jawline jutted towards the blade strapped to her back. “Inexperienced” could mean any number of things.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

The sun beat down on the empty courtyard, casting long shadows that loomed across the weathered stone, a stark reminder of the passage of time and the weight of history.

She felt like an intruder, a trespasser in a sacred space. The Abandoned; outcasts in a city built for the Old Gods. And yet, here she stood, a celestial blade strapped to her back, a gift from the very goddess she was supposed to be forsaken by. The irony was as sharp as the sword's edge, a twisted joke that echoed the dark humor of her own life.

"I've been practicing as much as I can," she admitted, her voice rough around the edges, "swinging it around mostly, trying to get a feel for it. Managed to fight off some void creatures with it." She shifted her weight, the sword a heavy presence against her back. "But without a teacher..." She trailed off, a nervous laugh escaping her lips, "it's like trying to read a map in the dark. You know you're going somewhere, but you're not sure if you're headed in the right direction."

"I need your help, Deimos," she said, her voice low and earnest, "I need to know if I'm doing this right. If I'm even... worthy of it."

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

Deimos often felt like an intruder here too – but it was purposeful and direct, a line of sedition he readily enjoyed. Stormbreak could have its history of racism, animosity, and hatred, but there they were, standing amidst the pillars with Abandoned blood lining their entities anyway. All of their blinded ambitions and aspirations eventually faded away into the present, where the leagues of bigoted and intolerant voids collapsed upon themselves. So his head remained high and his pride stayed intact, and he wasn’t going to be looking down in these midsts and towering walls. He’d done his part, and so had the rest.

Listening to Aurelia’s speech, his brow stayed arched, and mood otherwise neutral. She sounded like a new recruit, once swinging their blades alone at home and simply getting the feel for it. Nodding at the implications, he figured on where they could start, save for the end comment. Drawing his own sword, his eyes narrowed speculatively, before pinpointing solely on her. “You do not need to be worthy to defend yourself.” She could take that strange, embedded notion off her shoulders; he wasn’t going to listen to some dramatic, maudlin disposition. Moving away from all the sentiments completely, because that statement alone notched a few cords of irritation in his soul, he gave her the first direction. “Show me your stance.” Then they could work from there.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

The simplicity of his words, their unwavering truth, struck a chord within Aurelia. Life had taught her the harsh realities of survival, the primal instinct to fight for one's life, regardless of perceived worthiness. The blade, a gift from Safrin, was not a symbol of divine favor, but a tool; a means to an end. With a quiet nod, she pulled it from its sheath.

Aurelia's stance, while rooted in the fundamentals of combat, betrayed her lack of formal sword training. Her feet were planted firmly, shoulder-width apart, offering a solid base. Her knees were slightly bent, ready to spring into action. Her grip on the sword's hilt was firm, knuckles growing white with tension, but her shoulders were hunched.

The blade itself was held at an awkward angle, its tip pointed slightly downwards, hindering its potential reach and power. Her posture lacked the fluidity and grace of a seasoned swordsman. There was a subtle stiffness in her movements, a hesitancy that betrayed her inexperience with the weapon.

Aurelia's emerald gaze remained fixed on Deimos. She held her breath, every muscle taut, as if bracing for a blow.

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

With no argument or dispute, they could move on into the beginning of the lesson, with one sentiment already complete. She needn’t carve herself into a martyr to carry a blade; he, and so many others, certainly never had.

He was a formidable and experienced instructor, and as he scrutinized, walking around her to ensure the stance was complete, he picked apart the faultiness that would already give her a disadvantage well before she ever swung the weapon. “Your balance and weight in your feet is fine, however, you need to straighten through your shoulders and your back. Otherwise, you are already losing power and movement.” Sometimes it came from a lack of core, or perhaps even nerves itself, for his brow arched at the downward angle. It would all come from time, practice, and composition, but he wasn’t going to set her upon the path of dissolution and rampaging immediately either.

So he drew alongside her, positioning himself exactly as he would in any other fight – but turned his armament so that he was ready for any motion coming his way. Second nature and muscle memory, from years upon years, since he was young and gangly. “Try this,” encouraging her to mirror the sentiments.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

Deimos' words hit Aurelia like a cold splash of water, a stark reminder that even years of scrapping and surviving couldn't replace proper training. Her shoulders tensed, a familiar knot of frustration forming in her gut. She'd always been good on her feet, quick and agile, but damn if he wasn't right. She was holding herself back, her posture all hunched up like a scared rabbit.

She watched him move, the way he held the sword, the subtle shifts in his weight, the power coiled in his every muscle. It was like watching a goddamn ballet, except with a deadly weapon instead of a tutu. Years of practice, of discipline, were etched into his every move.

Aurelia took a deep breath, trying to loosen the knots in her shoulders, to straighten her spine like he'd shown her. The sword felt different in her grip, less like a burden and more like an extension of her own will.

"Like this?" she asked, her voice rougher than she intended. It was a small change, a tweak in her posture, but it felt like trying to rewire her whole body.

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

Survival often made its mark in fragmentary endeavors – it had its parallels, justifications, and necessities, but training could convey and assist in enduring and remaining alive in more than just mere perseverance. It would enhance the skills she’d snagged and grasped along the way; lending to better outcomes for the future, rather than reveling in anything she’d scraped by before.

He watched as she altered her stance; a stronger core and disposition, a sword that could do something other than hover downward and flail around. “Good,” he nodded, moving several feet in front of her now, so there would be room for when they began their striking means. “You will have to practice that frequently. Not for long – but enough times so it becomes a habit.” A couple minutes here and there; adjustments on feet, paying attention to the balance of her shoulders, the weight of her distinction. It all mattered when motions had to be so ready and precise.

Facing her now, yards off, the Sword stalked into a mirror image of the stance once more. “Now, how would you attack?” Much like he concocted with a majority of his Shields, he wanted the thought process before the plunge; for there were multitudes of options available, and he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Thinking had a critical role to play, and was utilized far less frequently than he’d like.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

Aurelia absorbed Deimos' praise with a flicker of satisfaction. It was a small victory, a validation of her efforts. But she knew this was just the beginning. The path to mastery was long and arduous, but she was determined to walk it.

"I will," she vowed, her voice firm and resolute. "Every day, until it becomes second nature."

She watched as Deimos faced her, his movements full of precision and power. A shiver of anticipation ran through her. This was what she had come for, a chance to learn from a true master, to push her limits and unlock her full potential.

His question, however, caught her off guard. How would you attack? It was a simple query, yet it opened a Pandora's box of possibilities. Her mind raced, analyzing the distance between them, the subtle shifts in his posture, the potential vulnerabilities and openings.

She hesitated, her grip on the sword tightening. There were countless ways to initiate an attack, each with its own risks and rewards. But which one was the right choice? Which one would demonstrate her understanding of combat, her ability to adapt and strategize?

A moment of silence stretched between them, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the nearby trees and the distant calls of unseen birds. Aurelia's brow furrowed in concentration, her gaze flicking between Deimos' poised form and the blade in her hand.

With a deep breath, Aurelia lunged forward, the blade arcing in the sunlight. Her movements were swift and deliberate, a feint towards Deimos' chest designed to draw his attention there. Should he move to parry it, she would pivot and aim a true strike at his exposed flank.

That's assuming he fell for the initial deception, of course.

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

All the promises she made mattered very little if she didn’t follow through on them; so it would be a matter of time, patience, and ability before those vows could truly be trusted. But he nodded just the same, waiting for her to figure out the parameters and options laden before her. It was clear her mind was working, calculating through the complexities in dealing with him, and her own inexperience. But that was how one learned, through trial, error, and mistake after mistake. He didn’t need to see an apt demonstration of anything, save for thought, because then they had something to work with.

She moved eventually, lunging, clearly trying to maneuver him towards a specific range. But having seen this over a hundred times before, the Sword merely slid to the left, completely out of her extension and opted feint, amused. “A thoughtful idea.” For it was; she could’ve simply wandered towards him with no notion and been annihilated for it with anyone else. “Your feet gave you away.” He gestured towards her limbs with his blade, and utilized that distraction to maneuver the flattened portion of the blade towards her shoulder, as if to slap or touch or pinpoint. “Now, how would you defend?”

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

When her blade jabbed at thin air, she felt the breath she'd been holding billow out of her lungs in a disappointed huff. She supposed, then, she'd have to be extremely lucky to land a 'successful' hit against him. Just looking at him, she knew his defenses may as well have been an impenetrable wall of stone. Yet still he praised the thought behind her moves, well, praised-ish. She followed his gesture to look down at her feet, which had apparently pointed at her true target. 

Her lips curled in dissatisfaction, her frown deepening as she realized that he'd taken advantage of that small moment of inattention to direct his sword at her. For a few seconds, she felt her breath shorten. "You're stronger than me," she pointed out the obvious, but the thing about it was that it left her feeling optionless, "I can't possibly beat you if we clash our swords. You'll win that battle on brute force alone."

Still, she didn't want to give up, so she tried what made the most sense to her without taking too long to think on it. She leaped a step backward, pulling her shoulder away from the edge of the blade, and struck his sword hard from a sideward angle in the hopes that it would be enough to counterattack.

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

Given Aurelia had asked him, a known swordsman down to his title, perhaps she should’ve had an inkling of what she’d potentially accomplish. It wouldn’t be down to hitting or maiming Deimos – especially when this had been one of the few times she’d held one, and he’d utilized them since he was a child – but learning how to utilize, strategize, and contemplate. That would bear far more knowledge, sagacity, and experience, than pouting.

To which he arched his brow at her irritated huff, snorting in return. “Me, and many others.” Correct in her assertion she wouldn’t be besting him in strength, speed, or fortitude, she’d have to wager and strive in other areas. Surely she couldn’t believe he’d be going easy on her – he’d never done it for any of his constituents. “That is why I am encouraging you to think.”

At the very least she was determined, leaping backwards and away from his barely maneuvered blade, before striving to counterattack. He held it there, absorbing the blow, tilting his head, pondering if she’d forgotten her own statement. “And you try elsewhere,” he added with a grin, purposefully motioning towards the left, and swinging the training armament towards her knees, implying another option while making her defend this one as well.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls

Aurelia

these nightmares all bend
silver linings are all i need

He was faster, stronger, more experienced. But she didn’t need to be any of those things, not if she could think two moves ahead.
 
His blade came in low, swinging toward her knees, and for a brief, reckless moment she thought about taking it just to prove she could. No. That was pride talking, and pride would get her killed. She danced back instead, the tip of his sword cutting the air close enough to feel its hiss.
 
She didn’t go for the obvious counter—didn’t raise her sword in some show of defiance. He’d expect that, would be ready to swat her aside like an insect. Instead, she moved fast, faster than she thought possible, and circled to his left, the ground beneath her boots giving her just enough grip to pivot cleanly. His swing carried him forward, just enough.

That’s when she struck.

She lunged, not toward his blade, but his arm—his sword arm, exposed for a split second. Her sword sliced through the air, aimed not for a killing blow but for the wrist, the place where grip met steel. If she could knock it loose, even just a little, she might have him.

so please just hold onto me
these demons, they're old to me