The Salle, Monday Morning

[bitchprince]

Fighting Ben still in SP last night had been somewhat cathartic. It hadn't been cathartic enough not to send Arthur back down to the salle with a sword and a mission to use it. So there he was, slicing clean but sure along the lines of a dummy with said practice sword.

There were few times in the week he felt anywhere near at ease. This was probably the most reliable.

[[ and open. wew, last of my spam ]]

Comments

[cutsthestrings.livejournal.com]

She gave him a snort before stepping into the clear area. Taking his comment as criticism for a failure she hadn't even accomplished, she swept into the routine a little faster than he'd performed it for her. She didn't misstep, her footwork clean as she cut the air.

She added the twirl at the end, as he had, before gritting her teeth and launching into the second exercise at the same speed.

Fiona turned to him then, sword down, a bit of a smile on her face.

[bitchprince]

This was starting to get pretty aggravating all around, as Arthur squashed down on a little voice in the back of his head going why can't you be that good with all of this unfamiliar weaponry? I'd expect my son to be no less than and ad infinitum.

He brushed his thumb and forefinger across the bridge of his nose, shaking it off. "So you can," he said. "Good."

[cutsthestrings.livejournal.com]

She just nodded, glad she'd proved worth his time.

"Next?"

[bitchprince]

"Next," he said, "You're going to do that again. Then we'll see about adding something else to your repertoire."

She was disturbingly fast and he really didn't like it.

[cutsthestrings.livejournal.com]

He wasn't the only one. The League hadn't signed their death warrants because they didn't like Eliot's hair, after all.

She nodded and 'anticipated', repeating the drill a little faster still and again adding the second drill to the end of it. If that wasn't what he wanted, he could yell at her.