flameguard | mygod | pc catchall

[ moon moon mention

show me what you're feeling, he says, and rondo nods, his shoulders squaring as he takes a deep breath. okay.

and - he will. rondo is effusive and passionate as a person, and as a swordsman, he is no different. especially like this. he tends to lean into a power-forward style of fighting, as unrelenting as his mentor once was, and though there are some areas where it's clear the problem they discussed before of his blade not being his does shine through, they're less and less. there's emotion in the way that he spars back, too. there's frustration. grief. the endless weight of utterly pointless loss. it's always pointless.

(It's hard to promise to protect someone. Hubris. All it takes is one person stronger than you to ruin things.)

he's able to match iwatooshi blow for blow, for the most part - he's not unused to polearm like weapons, nor is he afraid of going on the attack. he, too, is measured, able to maintain the proper conduct of a spar, but his grip on his sword is white knuckled, and at a moment when they clash close, iwatooshi can see rondo's eyes are wet.

after a while of this, he leaps back, breathing hard - and exhales harshly, rubbing his wrist across his eyes. ]

[ iwatooshi easily matches his style, himself favoring strength and bold action in battle. it's enlightening to see the changes in rondo's ability, how his emotions power him - it's almost comforting, in its familiarity. with each attack, parry, or counter, he accepts the emotions that rondo gives him, offering his own in return, a combination of frustration, sorrow, and resignation.

unlike rondo, he doesn't cry. death isn't a stranger to one such as him, who has tasted the blood of hundreds, even thousands on his blade. but any loss of life is to be mourned, and it shows in the weight of his strikes, the unbridled power he puts behind them. iwatooshi doesn't relent until rondo backs off, setting the weighted end of his weapon on the ground and offering a respectful bow. ]

We've hardly managed to befriend them before losing them. [ he thinks of the ink from today and before, how concerned this young man is with helping others and his potential failure. ] Fate can be cruel, can't it?

[ fate. what a word to use.

he returns the bow, pressing his hand to his heart, respectful. the spar was perfect for getting out the extra energy, the frustration and desperation, and as it ends, he feels wrung out and raw - better than before, at least. unwound. more grounded.

he places fisteralda back in its sheath, and he does not cry, taking in a deep breath to keep himself from doing so. ]

... We were supposed to have more time. [ two months, they had said. ] And to be locked in last night... there was nothing we could have done.

We were.

[ they never know how long they’ll have. it’s a tragic reminder to treasure what little time they do have. ]

I thought we’d be able to protect one another from the cultists, but they have unexpected power to be able to confine us like that. [ frowning, as he thinks of rondo’s tattoos. ] Surprise attacks like this catch even the best warriors off-guard. That must be why they did it.

mygod | pc catchall | iwatooshi

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