The Salle, Wednesday, Mid-Day

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric was frustrated.

No, contrary to what one might expect, that frustration didn't have anything to do with any particular flowers or scents around the island. In fact, the frustration had everything to do with his complete and utter inability to use a sword.

He glared at the practice sword in his hand -- one of the lightest ones available, in fact -- and almost began swearing at it before he sighed, collected himself, and began once again his unpracticed swings at the practice dummy.

Goddammit, he was going to learn how to use a sword, if only for his Rangering workshop.

[Expecting one in particular, but open salle is open!]

Comments

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

"So, stance -- shoulders, grip, feet -- and then swing?" Eric brought the sword up in a half-decent approximation of a ready stance, and swung, hesitantly. He made a face. "Okay, I can tell that one sucked." He steadied himself again, and made another swing, more confident. "Better?"

[bitchprince]

"Keep doing it," Arthur advised, "I'll tell you when to stop."

He leaned back slightly to keep his eyes on what Eric was doing - but that wasn't easy in its own right. "What's your name?"

Oh, right, details.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

"Eric," he replied, as he kept going, his confidence growing with every swing. His form got a little better as he did so. He still had a ways to go before he could be considered a swordsman, but the potential was, perhaps, there. "Eric van der Woodsen."

[bitchprince]

"Eric. All right," Arthur said, in what could almost be termed jovial if there wasn't a firm shot of sarcasm in it, "Now you might actually not take your toes off."

He gave his own practice sword a twirl. "I don't have the time to bother training you properly right now," he said, idly, "But let's see if you can keep a drill."

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

"Just keep doing this, you mean?" Eric asked. It wasn't like he'd never been exposed to sarcasm before; it would take a lot more than that to get to him. "Or is there something more specific you want me to do?"

[bitchprince]

"One strike does not make a drill," he said, his listen to me, I know what I'm doing, you maggot voice firmly in place as Arthur took his own position and slowly - slowly - worked his way through the base drill he'd tried to teach Fiona the other day.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric immediately started following along, a half-step behind, as he did his best to commit the drill to memory. "Can I see that one more time?" he asked, when they'd finished.

[bitchprince]

"Just this once," Arthur sighed.

Because it was totally such a hardship to get to show off. He shifted back into the drill with fluid ease, like he'd been born to do it.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Following along again, this time with Arthur rather than the half-step behind, Eric made sure he had the motions down -- and that he wasn't too distracted by Arthur himself. The boy was quite something to watch, after all.

"Thanks," he said, when they'd completed it. "I'll do my best."

[bitchprince]

"I'm sure you will," Arthur told him. That was encouraging. Really.

Mollified at the fact that his favourite weapon would go undefiled for yet another few minutes, at least, Arthur pulled away from the scene to return to his own drills.

They were far more complex. There were a few more twirls thrown in for good measure. They did not seem thrown in.

Arthur was just a natural showoff.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric was focusing on his drill. Really, honestly, he was.

But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't getting distracted by watching Arthur do what he did best.