The Salle, Monday Morning

[bitchprince]

It was Monday morning, and Arthur was not about to let one little sorceress (or one not-so-little guilt complex) keep him from running the morning's training. Besides, Lady Alice might well come 'round, and now that the injury was nearly healed he needed to get as much training in as he could.

So he strode into the salle as he always did, his eyes locked on the practice blades. Time for work.

[[ open salle, kids. and now in the right comm! ]]

Comments

[notyourpawn.livejournal.com]

"Then you have my sympathies," she said, extending her torso slightly and shifting her weight from one foot to the other, trying to find the proper stance. "For whatever ills befell your land to make such a decree necessary."

She tried one or two swings with the sword. "I feel terribly clumsy, with this," she confessed.

[bitchprince]

"You'll be flapping about like a duck for the forseeable future," Arthur agreed, "But once you settle in, it'll feel as if it an extension of your arm." He glanced aside to watch her swing, then broke out of his own stance so he could wander over to make a few adjustments. "Arms straighter," he said, with a gesture, "Steady, slow, and with purpose. Don't rush it."

A halt.

"And thank you."

He'd been yelled at far too much about ways that had been so normal but months previous; different considerations had fallen on his neck like a choke collar, and he hadn't realised quite how much he'd needed to breathe just once.

He really was grateful - even if it had been but a small 'thanks'.

[notyourpawn.livejournal.com]

An extension of her arm. The vorpal blade had been that. It wasn't so ludicrous to believe that this strange sword could be, as well.

This time, the motion was more of a slice. Slash. Tearing through an imaginary card guard's skin.

Very nice.

"Not at all," she said easily. "Am I at least a threatening sort of duck?"

[bitchprince]

"You've got the instincts of a magnificently threatening duck," he agreed, lifting his chin to acknowledge her movements. "We'll see if we can put some measure of technique to your enthusiasm."

Under Arthur's training, everyone got criticism - even queens.

[notyourpawn.livejournal.com]

"Any would be an improvement," she said coolly, unruffled by his critique. "Though I haven't suffered for my lack of grace. Blows are blows, and wounds are wounds."

[bitchprince]

"And any one good blow ends a fight to the death," he said, settling back into stance to show a few slow, slow practice movements, "But that doesn't mean we can't increase our chances."

[notyourpawn.livejournal.com]

"Or, at the very least, look less like a duck while doing so," she said, trying to slow her motions to match his.

[bitchprince]

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, my lady."

[notyourpawn.livejournal.com]

"I did say 'less,'" she laughed. "That's hardly setting my expectations very high."

[bitchprince]

"Mmm," he hummed, "I'm not so sure of that."

It had just enough sarcasm in it to keep from sounding completely serious. "Focus on your control before you try for any speed or strength. That'll be your task for the week."