eswareinmal | Gotta fight gotta strike...

Entry tags:

Gotta fight gotta strike...

WHO: Alanna and anyone who wants to learn to fight
WHAT: Training
WHERE: The Training Field
WHEN: ALL THE TIME :|
WARNING(S): None

Sir Alanna's routine is stringent. She wakes before dawn to stretch for about an hour. Then she eats. Then she heads to the stable to feed and clean her horse. After that, she heads to the training field, where she stores duplicates of her favorite weapons as well as spares for anyone who might want to use them.

She starts with the sword, running through one-person 'sets', demonstrating for anyone who might be there so early in the day. Then she practices with her axe, then the knives, then finally the bow and arrow. By lunch time she's covered in sweat, but she doesn't bother to shower after her meal. She heads straight back to the field so begin proper lessons, whatever is called for that day.

This is her routine, every day, unless something horrible happens to set things awry. If the sun is shining, Alanna is training or caring for her horse.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bakura blinked once, but gave no protest. "You know how to do that too?"

"My Gift is for healing," she explained, still deadly serious, "but it can do other things too. Come with me."

She started towards a dry patch of earth where the grass was worn down from training abuse.

"Sit," she instructed, and sat opposite him.

He nodded, folding his legs under him, feeling a bit of giddy, nervous anticipation.

"Close your eyes and get comfortable," she ordered, "I'm going to teach you to meditate." And perhaps with the Sight gifted her by the ember she wore around her neck, determine just what sort of Gift he possessed.

"I want you to think of something small. A spinning top, or the flame of a candle. Think of that and nothing else."

He nodded, eyes closing, the image of a top very easily coming to his minds eye. Getting it to be the only thing, however, was far harder, as there were worries and curiosity to contend to.

Looking past the physical would give her a glimpse of green lined white robes and the soft white glow that he had called upon earlier permeating his entire self, almost as if it were him.

"Focus on your image," she instructed, lowering her voice so as not to interrupt his focus. "There's nothing else. No wind, no sun, no self. Everything else is darkness."

She watched, making sure that his power didn't leap from himself out of his control. Mentally she cursed herself for not putting up a barrier first.

"Ignore everything else," she told him, standing up to draw a circle around them while she still could.

Bakura's left hand twitched slightly as he tensed, the words pulling at a memory that he didn't at all like to think of that had been lingering in the back of his mind since he had woken up in the forest.

Normally, he wasn't at all afraid of the dark. It was comforting and familiar and held mysteries waiting to be explored. But when it devoured everything... when the darkness became the Darkness that tore at him...

She constructed the magic circle wide enough to contain the power radiating from him, which turned out to be a great deal larger than she would have liked for their training space to be. Fortunately there was no one close by, or she might have been interrupting their training. It would simply have to do. It had been too long since she'd had a student in the magical arts.

"Relax," she said, still softly, once she was back where she started. Her voice coming from a new direction might have been distracting.

"The object of your focus, it's inside of you. It is you. Contain yourself to that small point in space. Nothing else matters."

No. No, something was wrong. There was--

He tensed further, shoulders hunching in. There was something--

A jumble of words spilled out into his memory, garbled and mixed together, varied and unfamiliar, mixing with images that he couldn't place. A man with short red hair standing next to one who's hair was an icy blue, his eyes black where they should be white. Confidential conversation in whispering tones over a cup of tea in a room that was almost empty, looking across the chessboard at eyes there were cold as ice, then sunken black that radiated dark glee, then a warm brown that held such affection--

Too much. It was too much, he was going to drown, he was going to---!

With a sharp cry he pulled himself back from the rush of things that were seeking to haul him under, a sphere of almost translucent energy forming around him as he toppled, protecting him from hitting the ground.

She winced, thinking how lucky it was that she had put up the circle in time. Getting to her feet, she stood over the other boy.

"Are you hurt?"

"N--no, I-- I don't think so..."

Slowly, the shield around him faded and he sunk the last quarter inch to the ground.

"Again?" she asked, not wanting to push him if he was too worn out from their first exercise. Clearly he needed the training.

He shook his head. "I don't want to get near that again..."

"You'll have to eventually," she warned him. "Without control over your powers you're a danger to yourself and everyone around you."

There was an uncomfortable pause. "There's no other way...?"

"Meditation teaches you to contain your powers," she explained patiently. "Trying to control it by sheer force of will is far more dangerous than I'm willing to let you risk."

Bakura was quiet a moment. "But nothing happened until now... If I've been here for as long as people say... shouldn't something have happened before..?"

"As long as people say?" He made it sound as though he wasn't sure himself. Which would make sense, when combined with his lack of knowledge about his powers, if he had lost some memories.

"Perhaps you knew something about controlling it back then."

"Aaa..." There was the belated realization that he had given away the game before he gave a soft sigh. "Maybe... This is the first time I had any hint that I even had them.... so maybe it's something unconscious now...?"

She sighed.

"It's possible, but it's still dangerous. If you're only subconsciously in control, what happens in an emergency?" Nothing good.

"I don't know..." Bakura admitted softly, rubbing his left hand slightly.

She gave him a long, hard look, but finally softened. He was obviously very confused, and meditation was going to be hard for him.

"Does that hurt?" she asked, nodding towards his hand.

"Eh? Aaa--- it's nothing, it's nothing, don't worry about it!" he assured quickly. "It's just a little stiff, that's all!" It was in far better shape than he kept expecting it to be, after all! And even if it wasn't, he didn't want any fuss made over it. Fuss led to questions how he had gotten it, after all...

Alanna had been a soldier for most of her life; far too long to press personal issues that he clearly didn't want to talk about.

Of course, as a healer, she also couldn't ignore someone else's pain, no matter how badly they wanted her to.

"I could heal it for you, either way."

He shook his head. "It's already healed as well as it can be..." he said softly. There was a feeling of experience behind that. Even if he couldn't remember much of the last 2 years, he knew he had tried healing it before.

(no subject)

shorterinperson - 2012-04-02 00:55 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only