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The Salle, Thursday Afternoon, After Classes

Elspeth found the local oddities to be more intriguing than overwhelming, in general. Still, it was a relief to retreat to the salle and work through her sword exercises. It was one tiny spot of normal in a great sea of something else entirely.

[Open!]

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He wasn't sure how good she was, but he knew better than trying to make this easy. With his mind in focus, he moved, suddenly appearing on her right and attempting a stab with the sword.

[bedtime!]

Fiona was fast. The stab was partially blocked and partially dodged as the yo yo shot out aiming at for head.

[night!]

He ducked, aiming a quick stab at her leg with the knife before moving away, now to her left side. This might be even better training than using the blades.

She turned her leg to send the knife sailing just past it and flicked her wrist as she pulled down; the thing about yo yos, much like boomerangs, is that one can also attack on the way back.

Leto had to use all his concentration to avoid it. Ending up a safe distance from Fiona, he asked: "Have you killed with that?"

She looked down at the yo yo for a moment before shaking her head.

"No."

But the pause before it said she had killed. She decided to plow right on.

"I did almost get my Uncle Aaron, though. I suppose that's why he gave it to me."

What she hadn't said was audible enough. "He must trust you then," Leto replied, attacking her right shoulder.

She said nothing as she used the short sword now to push the blade away. It was almost natural to spin in to him to send her elbow at his chest.

But she didn't think Aaron trusted her. She just thought he liked her. Her sinking suspicion was that he'd be glad for some challenge from her if and when the Council decided they were too dangerous to live.

As natural as it was for him to dodge and move away, while aiming a stab at the hand holding the yo-yo. She was beautiful when fighting.

Her hand pulled back even as the yo yo shot forward, aiming for his hand.

He was good. Blood pumping, her muscles working, she felt a fierce grin settle on her mouth. This was good.

The yo yo brushed against his hand and he clung to the knife, letting out a gasp. He swung the sword to block the yo yo returning.

Fiona's eyes went wide and he wasn't the only one who gasped as her instinct, her desire to protect her present, willed an edge to the thread that would be able to slice right through the sword.

She jumped back, not breathing hard but her eyes were dark and just a touch dangerous. Her mouth, open, showed lightly clenched teeth; she fought the feeling of triumph that she'd brushed his hand with the dismay of willing an edge, wanting to cut, almost too easily.

Her reaction did surprise Leto a little, but he didn't know quite why. Hoping the emotions would distract her, he dropped the sword, grabbed the other knife from his leg, and launched himself at her, one knife aimed for her throat and the other at her belly; prepared to stop before he actually injured her. They had no shields, after all.

Her eyes went wider, then hard, as the yo yo swung out in a spin, a cutting edge willed to them, her face resembling her mother in the most frightening way.

Part of her was screaming, but the greater part was cold and sharp. She would never cut him, never want to, but the same couldn't be said of his weapons.

Edited 2009-05-16 16:11 (UTC)

One knife got in the way of the yo yo, and the blade fell to the floor as Leto still clung to the hilt. He registered this but ignored it for the moment, focussing on the attack of the other knife.

She knew as soon as she moved to twist, to block, to do anything that she would be too late. It was an amateur's mistake, a moment wasted in thinking that should have been acting. He'd won.

She was simultaneously relieved and annoyed.

Still, it had been close. Leto remained still for a moment, his knife against her skin, watching Fiona. He hadn't been afraid - fear was the mind killer - but something told him to be cautious.

He took a few steps back, catching his breath. Be on your guard was the insistent advice of quite a few of the ancestors within, and Leto knew they were right. And still, she had been beautiful with the look of battle in her eyes.

The knife against her skin felt almost intimate and even though it had made her wince, a part of her was sad it was over.

"I have a lot to learn," she said with a quick bow of her head. It was pretty much a nod.

"Sorry about the knife."

"The school seem to have enough practise knives, but perhaps you shouldn't break them all," Leto replied, jokingly, hiding his emotions. "You are good, Fiona."

She looked at him without speaking for a moment, somehow both shocked and perhaps even a little hurt at his decision to joke. She swallowed and lifted her head, deciding to focus on the compliment.

"Thanks," she said, sure to keep a bite from her tone. She wasn't angry. She was...conflicted. And felt a little like her breath was caught inside her.

"You too. Obviously."

He gave a slight nod. "Let me know if you need to spar some other time," he said. Clearly the joke hadn't been well received, but he felt it best to keep things light.

She stepped forward, engaging him again if only in conversation. There was something here, some thread hanging loose, and she wasn't letting go of it quite yet. If he told her it wasn't the time, she'd let things be but until that point--

"I wouldn't have cut you," she told him earnestly. A little too quickly as well.

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to look amused.

She shook her head.

"It only cuts what I want it to cut," she told him.

"And you trusted I would block it?" he asked, face neutral, not questioning the truth of the statement.

The Salle, Thursday Afternoon, After Classes

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