Winter 11th 513 AV
Oryani eyed her new ‘student’ of sorts. A mutual friend between them had pulled out a favor on her, this man a thing or two about the shortbow. In all honesty, she was really just a beginner herself… but the person had mentioned that teaching often led to you learning more about it as well. So… here she was. She’d managed to find (and borrow) a target from the Watch, though with a quick explanation of her reasoning. They were quite pleased with the idea of a new member, and though her mentor had offered to help… she’d decided against it. It would simply be awkward to have the teacher of your teacher there.
She stood before the target, bow in her right hand, and arrow grasped in her left. ”What’s your name again? Da- Da something.” She glanced over as she said this, watching and waiting for an answer. When a name came, she’d reply bluntly with ”Right. Oryani Darkeye.” She’d positioned herself a little behind and to his right, so she could see his shooting arm easily, and she could see his. Unless he favored his left hand, like she did. In all honesty, her ‘teaching’ at the moment was more copying what she remembered her mentor doing… Sadly, with her hands full, she had to forgo the usual motions that went with Pavi… but that was one of the few problems of being armed. Other than accidentally stabbing yourself with an arrow or something.
Khal, her Strider, was standing a little ways off. He was used to this kind of encounter, but had sniffed the man when they’d first met curiously. Usually if the Chatakwe was practicing her bow, the other person around was someone older and more familiar. Still, he’d left to clear away from any stray arrows, taking a bite out of some nearby grass that looked particularly tasty. Her scimitar was strapped to his Yvas… she still needed to train with that some more, as she was practically useless with the weapon.
After the Drykas had answered her question, Oryani would pose another, though this one a little more complicated than the last. ”So what can you do with a bow?” she inquired, slightly sternly, shifting her own in her grip. The carved handle felt nice and familiar in her hand, though the pattern was slightly worn down after a few years of use. The bow meant a lot to her, and she hated to think of the day it broke, and she’d have to buy a new one. That would be utterly terrible… She shook her head of the thought, reminding herself of the current job,
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