The water was compelling enough without Grayell in it. She sought to sink under it and come out clean on the other side. She needed to be uncontaminated by the past. It’s why she had put the blades down. Why she didn’t want them in the water with her. She despised and adored the katana in equal measure. Back in the dark, she needed it to survive. But when the dawn came? She wanted to throw it over the edge of the world.
It hadn’t plagued her quite so much since landing on this continent, until now. Water ran over her face, shoulders, the edges of her frame. She met him where the water reached mid-point on her belly.
Begin, Wolf.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell nodded and edged toward her in the water. He didn't move to attack, but instead closed the gap between them coming to rest quite close to her. His lead foot found hers on the stream floor and rested inside of it, his knee crouched and then pressing the inside of his leg to her own. He had to crouch a little more than her to match her height, but went about it in a formal manner. No clue if she had trained in this manner though...
Hm. If I make you at all uncomfortable please let me know.
His rear hand rested in front of his chest, a little to the outside. His hand was tilted back, the knife of his hand toward her, fingers open and relaxed. His front hand lifted though and formed an exotic fist, not rotated but still on it's side, the index finger not pulled in tight. He circled it outside her own lead arm slowly and then gently pressed the back of his wrist against her own.
His shoulders squared mostly and he settled a little lower... then locked eyes with her. There was but a few inches between their stomachs. Her leg and his own were checked, kicking would be night impossible this close and in this water. Their only weapons available were their hands... and at this range it would be all too easy to snap the other quite painfully. That was not the purpose of this exercise though.
We begin slowly. I move, you react. The adverse is true. Feel the attack, keep your eyes on mine. Let your body learn the sensation, teach it to counter without thought.
He stopped and then smiled a little, a quiet laugh.
And yet you probably know this. Forgive the presumption, I've been teaching some friends of late. You may move first Kiko.
His mood had altered again. They had not begun... but simply taking the time to prepare had entirely removed the thoughts that plagued him.
She waited for him to approach, and the nerves fell away. He couldn’t have known the hours of practice she done in such conditions. Oh, granted the water was swift, the lighting darker than she would have liked, but the motion fluid. Water was a wonderful way to strengthen the muscles, build strong lungs, and even better footing. Some of the best swordsman she had known had been called “water dancers”, able to swing a blade in between falling raindrops.
A quick smile ran over her features when he brought his hands up, gave the instructions and laughed.
Kaminari.
It was whisper from her mouth. Then she attacked. The left hand went high for his throat, the edge of her palm used like blade to smack inward, and the right headed straight behind it.
Her wrist slid against his own and without thought, his lead arm pressed aside. His left hand moved as quickly, an open hand rose to cover his throat and face, though his right had deflected the blow. It was a quick but supple reaction, controlled strength without so much as a hint of brute force. His left hand shifted as his right arm dropped, his fist now unwinding into a palm, pressing toward the inside of her shoulder. His left hand dropped slowly, pushing down upon the water in anticipation of her next move.
His eyes were still fixated on hers, they would not move during the exercise. He said nothing and his own counter happened inside a second, but the next move was hers.
She went with the momentum. If she had a flaw it was lack of real battle experience. The form was perfect; she knew the right motions, the right counter, and the right time to bend her body forward or back to avoid him. And while she knew that reality wasn’t the same as the training ring, oh how well she knew, her body still carried it through. She could deviate from it; she had before, when her life depended on it.
But, she always came out of those experiences in a fugue state, not sure what had happened just seconds before. Stop, Kiko, pay attention. He’ll be landing the blows otherwise. Her feet twisted under the water, up on her toes she made a darting motion forward her head dropped low and her flattened palms aimed for his diaphragm.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
His blow only glanced over her shoulder, as intended and his elbow dropped in to cover his center. His left hand had remained in a gut check but she sought to shoot above it... but her leg moved.
His right hand dropped to find an elbow and whilst his left could parry one or both blows, his leg was still checked inside hers - so he twisted and rocked into her. His knee lifted, took her front leg up and slid much higher inside her thigh - and rather than strike back he flourished both hands to cover his side as his shoulder came into her chest.
The impact was not terrible, he hadn't intended to hurt her of course. But his feet as yet had not moved. A full, fluid push to counter simple strikes, his whole body as a weapon. He slightly - ever so slightly smiled.
His eyes were on hers once more.
His hand lifted, ready to resume.
I am sure you have some questions. Feel free to ask... I've not much to hide now as you can imagine.
She rocked on her toes while the water lapping at breast, belly, and thighs. Damn. That is what you get for losing concentration. She regained her balance within a few breaths, shoulders snapping back into place. His hair was a beacon around him, and those eyes made the insides of her belly knot up.
When were you bitten?
He’d mentioned something about age, about the blood causing him to age slower. It could explain a few things.
Grayell smiled when she asked that, albeit slowly. His lead hand now pressed against hers, testing. His rear hand followed any opening seamlessly and he rocked forward to press her guard - before giving and inviting her through motion to press back. She knew the technique, she knew the benefits of conditioning. And it showed (snicker).
A long time ago. I was hunting. I barely survived... and it didn't.
That, was the first time. This time is different. This time I made a very foolish choice in order to bury my past and set things right.... and this time I was betrayed.
I have studied with the Garou a great deal and understand transendence but have not attained it. I keep trying however...
But it is difficult. To swallow the beast... their is little beauty in my life that counters it's rage. I need calm, fulfillment if I am to ever conquer it entirely. But the beast is not easily broken.
Again, a swaying as he pressed her guard, arm now shifting in an opposite arc. It brought them closer, his shoulder pressed to hers. He looked out the corner of his eyes to hers, both were almost facing the water... and he paused. His eyes were kind, something in there was better than the curse.
Thank you. This means a great deal to me Kiko.
Last Edit: Sept 23, 2011 21:00:04 GMT -5 by Grayell
She didn’t know what to say. Nevertheless, her hands knew the next attack. She went for his wrist and the back of his neck, hoping to get the move in before he finished his answer, only to find him right up against her shoulder. The space between them shrunk down to nothing and the pain in his voice was hard, brutally hard, to hear.
Hunting. Betrayal.
She wasn’t any kind of empath, or healer, and from what she could gather, his core was broken. She could teach him calm. Maybe. No. Do not get ahead of yourself. He is going home. He will find calm or he will be destroyed. It pulled at her, though. She couldn’t save Katsurou. But, she might be able to help this one.
Why, Wolf?
She made the next motions while waiting for the answer, her hip turning just enough to bring her body behind him.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
She passed by his shoulder and to his back... and with a simple step and shoved, he lifted in the water and glided just 6 or so feet. He rotated as he did so, again finding footing. His eyes had led the turn, found her with a relaxed appreciation and stayed upon her as he again shifted into stance. The water was a little deeper, lapping at his chest... but it whirled about his elbows and dragged his hair along behind him.
He sighed, taking breath and releasing it slowly. He'd come to train and found himself talking, but the movement in the water were relaxing, ebbing away the friction he'd felt when talking to Zaedus. Perhaps pummeling the crap out of each other was not the ideal respite at this time... but she'd come to train and he'd oblige just as she had.
Why what? Why am I appreciative?
He walked to her without qualm and again, arms crossed. Water dripped from his hand and onto hers... and the reflection of the moon upon the water was crystallized in her eyes. There was a sadness there. perhaps something that echoed his own... but she held it back masterfully. If only he had that same strength. Her... expressions were subtle. Almost vague. That had him curious though - she was almost reserved, withdrawn and yet, she felt comfortable enough speaking with him.
Because I need to recognize beauty. Experience it. It brings me joy, and that joy helps me smile. That smile in turn gives me hope, that hope lending me the resolve to center. Without focus, without clarity, I cannot hope to succeed in what I must do.
He shifted stance, pushing against her arm again and then shot out a palm to her stomach... and he stopped before it struck. His motion in the water had caused but a ripple, but moonlight glimmered off it now and set waves of delicate light down her face in the gloom. She was entirely beautiful and had him transfixed.
He looked down at that time, forced a change in mindset... and then threw a decent punch to her sternum. Action overcoming thought.
Zaedus appeared near the stream apart from Kiko. He had pondered Grayell's words. The Worgen was conflicted, a part of wanted to attempt to lop his head off and mount it as a trophy the other wanted to stay his hand. He looked at the stream admiring the moonlight glinting off of the cold waters. He shifted slightly revealing the silver greatsword in his hand
I have pondered your words and as a friend I will say this: If you lose control of that beast inside you, I will not give you the opportunity to destroy yourself.
He lowered his blade allowing the tip to divide the water.
You have my promise as a friend, that if it has to go that way, I will put it down.
He hefted his sword over his shoulder and took a few steps closer.
Now draw that needle old man, and lets stretch our weary muscles.
The conversation broke her customary routine. She was listening to him instead of watching the hands or his eyes. She should have dropped low to block the punch, but her brain was more focused on the reason. And with the loss of that conversation she didn’t even attempt to recover. There was another punch headed her way and instead of moving to counter it she sprung up out of the water and dove over his hand.
She hit the surface head first with a sharp splash, feet pulled in seconds behind it. She didn’t go far the water was too murky at this late of an hour, and truthfully she couldn’t have said why she reacted that way. She just did it without thought.
She came up out of the water only a few steps away, breath blown out in a rush and her voice jittery.
You’re focusing on beauty to remain human?
It made sense. Sort of, every mammal had instincts, but only humans created… she had to stop for a minute and think.
Then Zaedus appeared out of nowhere, again, and she had an excuse to back away. They obviously needed the space more than she did.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell smiled as she dove away and resurfaced and as she looked to him, he folded his left hand over his right palm, bowed and relaxed.
It seems we're interrupted by my endearing friend here.
That was a quip, though he knew full well Zaedus was not joking... not in the slightest. He took long strides through the water, hands pulling his hair from his shoulders. But when he hit the shore, his legs folded under him and he pulled his blade across his lap, hands then resting on his knees. His eyes closed for a moment... and then reopened to look upon the water.
Allow me to answer you both.
A warrior must appreciate beauty or he has no understanding nor purpose. To kill without recognition of such beauty is to murder. To be a true warrior, one must recognize beauty in all things and in that knowing, have full understanding of how terrible his purpose is. He may kill without remorse, but in knowing the gift of all life, he practices better judgement, he attains a mindset that prevents him killing without purpose.
When such a warrior is resigned to take a life, he does so with the complete knowledge that he, in that act; is removing something of beauty from the world. In coming to terms with this, he can act immediately, decisively. He will not entertain thoughts of vengeance or sport, he will not strike in haste or strike in error, only crippling his foe. A man with this understanding should understand all things, his sense of justice and honor resolute, his purpose unquestionable. A warrior that does not embody these things is incomplete... a fighter. There lays the difference between being able to fight.... and being able to not fight.
This needle as you put it Zaedus, is a beautiful thing. It has given something to the world, it brings joy in it's appearance, but it's intent is cruel. It is but a tool, it's fate decided by it's wielder. It is the very personification of the smith who crafted it and should I continue to possess it, will be the embodiment of my very soul and warrior spirit.
Shall this blade ever be drawn, it will be drawn to kill. Henceforth I cannot simply entertain your request. If you insist, I have a knife that I will gladly wield. Should this blade be used to kill, it will be done so with honor and respect. It will be decisive, my stroke to the best of my ability, my mind free of apprehension. When this blade strikes, it will do so with the full knowledge that I intend to kill.
Should this blade never strike, then I have perfected my art. Should I never need to kill again, I have mastered the true purpose of the warrior.
Grayell took the blade in both hands, resting it on his palms.
This blade is the very symbol of the wolf. A terrible power that lays concealed and should only be released with the express reason to kill... kill without question. That is why I undertake this quest.
She intended to slip away until Grayell’s voice cut through the air and what he said held more than just resolve; it was a warrior’s code. She listened as he laid out the terms to Zaedus, watched while he left the stream and went to his knees with the blade out upon them.
It suited him; the water, the dark sky, and the steel across his folded thighs. She had thought earlier, Grayell would have been right at home with her father’s soldiers and she saw it repeated here. Her father had few trusted advisors and even less friends. He was not a man for public acclaim or adulation, or one of those men you heard from in every village across the land.
No, he didn’t sit idly by and boast of this battle or that one. Instead, he was happiest pruning the lotus flowers in the early morning light, listening to her mother sing. He never enjoyed war. He never looked for it. But, when it came he had the same tenacity she heard in Grayell's words.
Commendable and not just that, if he could control the wolf, then he was tougher than all the warriors she had ever seen.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell stood from the ground now and lifted the blade across his shoulders. One hand lazily hung off the handle and he patted Zaedus on the shoulder with a grin and a chuckle.
Perhaps another time. You, however; should be smoking the excessive amount of meat your brought into camp. I don't believe in waste and neither do you I am certain.
Grayell headed for the camp with a chuckle, smiling. It wasn't entirely the training he had been looking for, but it was therapeutic nonetheless. Incredibly so in fact. He paused by Kiko's weapons and looked upon them for a moment.... and then looked to her again, still smiling.
Well. I think I've worked up an appetite and a want for conversation. If you'd like to join me Kiko, I'd be mighty obliged.