There was not a drop of perspiration on Kyra's brow when she opened the door to see Madeira on the stoop, hand already posed to ring the bell impatiently again.
"Welcome back", the old woman's smile was a satisfied glow. Madeira's shoulders dropped as the tension she had been carrying for a bell dissipated.
"Things went well I take it." The Spiritist nodded in greeting and removed her own flat shoes, which she left beside Moritz' at the door. Kyra invited her further inside with a wave of her hand.
"The boy takes instruction well, seems determined to learn and is tough, getting right back up after he's hit. Yes, I'd say it went well."
Through a door at the other end of her small, utilitarian cottage a wide space suddenly opened up. A training room of some sort, with padded floors and weapon racks on the wall. Years of sweat and breath had soaked into the walls far beyond the hope of any household cleaning solution, leaving it to smell forever of rough fights and talc. And in the middle of it was Moritz, bare foot and looking no worse for wear.
Madeira smiled for the boy. She desperately wanted to go to him, but she feared embarrassing the boy in front of his teacher. So she stayed back, hovering by the wall. This place had a feeling similar to that of the temples that dotted Lhavit, like this is where fitness and sweat was worshipped and soft-handed little creatures like her were not meant to be there. "How was your first fight lesson?" she asked.
"It'll be the first of many I hope." Kyra slipped in behind Madeira, her bound feet making no sound of the cushioned floor. "How would you like to be my permanent student?" she turned to Moritz and folded her corded arms, her grin a pale sickle slice across her dark face.
Madeira blinked, surprised. Whatever happened while she was gone, it seemed to have convinced the ex Shinya of his potential.
Kyra rubbed her chin as she looked the boy up and down, like she was looking at more than just his body. Like spirit and determination was something that could be measured with the eye. "Have you ever thought of joining the Shinya when you grow up, boy?"
"Welcome back", the old woman's smile was a satisfied glow. Madeira's shoulders dropped as the tension she had been carrying for a bell dissipated.
"Things went well I take it." The Spiritist nodded in greeting and removed her own flat shoes, which she left beside Moritz' at the door. Kyra invited her further inside with a wave of her hand.
"The boy takes instruction well, seems determined to learn and is tough, getting right back up after he's hit. Yes, I'd say it went well."
Through a door at the other end of her small, utilitarian cottage a wide space suddenly opened up. A training room of some sort, with padded floors and weapon racks on the wall. Years of sweat and breath had soaked into the walls far beyond the hope of any household cleaning solution, leaving it to smell forever of rough fights and talc. And in the middle of it was Moritz, bare foot and looking no worse for wear.
Madeira smiled for the boy. She desperately wanted to go to him, but she feared embarrassing the boy in front of his teacher. So she stayed back, hovering by the wall. This place had a feeling similar to that of the temples that dotted Lhavit, like this is where fitness and sweat was worshipped and soft-handed little creatures like her were not meant to be there. "How was your first fight lesson?" she asked.
"It'll be the first of many I hope." Kyra slipped in behind Madeira, her bound feet making no sound of the cushioned floor. "How would you like to be my permanent student?" she turned to Moritz and folded her corded arms, her grin a pale sickle slice across her dark face.
Madeira blinked, surprised. Whatever happened while she was gone, it seemed to have convinced the ex Shinya of his potential.
Kyra rubbed her chin as she looked the boy up and down, like she was looking at more than just his body. Like spirit and determination was something that could be measured with the eye. "Have you ever thought of joining the Shinya when you grow up, boy?"