Get a Grip

Take a breath. (Elhaym)

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The Diamond of Kalea is located on Kalea's extreme west coast and called as such because its completely made of a crystalline substance called Skyglass. Home of the Alvina of the Stars, cultural mecca of knowledge seekers, and rife with Ethaefal, this remote city shimmers with its own unique light.

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Get a Grip

Postby Laszlo on March 18th, 2012, 5:45 am

Spring 78th, 512
About ten chimes before thirteenth bell.


There're too many things I haven't done yet.
There're too many sunsets I haven't seen.
You can't waste the day wishing it'd slow down.
You would have thought that, by now, I'd have learned something.


ImageStanding in the sunlight, Laszlo leaned himself against at post away from the shade. It made his skin glitter, as if it had been patted in gold dust, matching the gilded highlights in his blond hair. The graceful lilac curves of his horns took on a mild glow of their own, semi-translucent and thirsty for the warmth and light of his matron goddess. It was nearly Summer now, and yet a stubborn chill persistently clung to the Ethaefal's lean form. He could never seem to get warm.

He told himself it was the memory of the mountains where he had spent so much time this past season, where the only warmth came in small doses from pitiful campfires in the dead of night and early morning. Even now, Laszlo was still occasionally surprised to wake up in his bed with a roof above him, and four walls protecting him. It was so difficult to accept that the engulfing landscape of the Kalean Unforgiving had finally slipped into the past.

Breaking from his thoughts, Laszlo spared a glance skyward. He had arrived earlier than she had asked him to. The Ethaefal wanted to make a good impression here in Lhavit, so why not be punctual? Elhaym, the scarred Acolyte from days before, had required his presence here in the Sharai Peak, at an elegantly crafted courtyard overlooking some man-made pasture. Laszlo had only been given a when and where; he was still waiting on the why. It annoyed him to think he was responding to the beck and call of some arrogant guard type, but he didn't want to be thought of as insolent. He would at least see what this was about.

Excuse me. Can you tell me how to get to Sharai Peak?

Oh, hello! Yes! It's across the southern bridge. Just go south, past Piramba's. You'll find it eventually.

Really? That's it?

Well… yes. Just go south.


Despite having the only vaguest knowledge of Lhavit's layout, Laszlo had arrived here in only a matter of minutes. Alvadas could make getting from point A to point B last seconds, or hours, or months if it was feeling very cruel. He could get used to this unchanging reality, he decided. Abalia on the other hand was still adjusting. She hated it.

Laszlo found the Sharai Peak had fewer buildings and less skyglass than the other peaks, but it was much more lush and green than the others. This alone might have made it his favorite peak of Lhavit so far, but he hadn't seen all the others yet.

The courtyard was just beyond the bridge, its skyglass pillars glistening like mother-of-pearl. It was bordered by a long, thin pavilion which provided shaded seating. Interweaving designs were carved into the stone styles that evened the terrain into a solid platform, worn down by footfalls and eroded by wind over some unknown amount of time. The air was lightly perfumed with the charming scent of the Okomo herd grazing nearby, the large goatlike creatures native to the peaks of Lhavit. The locals were fond of them, seeming to prefer them to horses. And, honestly, they were handsome animals.

Laszlo, unfortunately, just wasn't very fond of animals. That was certainly apt to change, eventually, but for now he was glad to have some distance between himself and them. Idly he stood waiting, watching a shepherd wander through the surprisingly flat and lush, if small, field. His job looked pitiful, but he was smiling.
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Get a Grip

Postby Elhaym on March 18th, 2012, 7:34 am

Image

It had been a stroke of luck to find among the throng of people in Lhavit, but his position had given him away just as much as the horns on his head. Nestled on a glittering bench of skyglass and stone, Lazslo had been writing just as he had before. With her patrol for the day almost at an end (and today it was blessedly supervised by a senior Shinya), she had had little time but to approach him and ask him to meet her later. Well, it probably had come off as more of a demand in her haste, but that was all the better.

Now she trudged towards the secluded spot she had asked… no, told him to meet her at. Gone was her Acolytes uniform, replaced by the more standard fare she wore when the Shinya demanded no more of her time. Her shirt was a thin and black, covering her breasts and torso but leaving her shoulders bare. It fit snugly, bunching up a bit at her waist where it was met by a pair of flowing black pants that cut off midway down her calves. To top off her dreary ensemble, a pair of blackened leather sandals plopped with her steps. She cradled a large bundled of cloth in her left elbow, unconsciously hiding the scarring that traveled up her arm past her shoulder and to her neck. There were no bandages to hide that today.

She saw him at once, leaning against one of the pillars and staring out at the Okomo fields. Her pace quickened, her unburdened hand reaching to adjust the black band of cloth that canted over face and hid the most horrific of her wounds. If the plop plop plop if her sandals did not announce her presence enough, she reached out with the tip of her bundle and poked at his backside with it.

"You came."

She sounded almost surprised.

"Pretty, aren't they."

Her bundle was promptly laid against the railing, and then she herself hooked her arms over it and leaned forward. A single roving eye took in the sights, but thus far she hadn't really made eye contact with him.

"Such a simple life, taking care of animals. No one expects anymore from him. I wish it were that easy for everyone… well, anyway. I called you out here for a reason, Laszlo. You have something I want, no… something I need."

Now she turned, heaving herself up from her stooped position over the railing. She looked up at his face, trying to decipher his mood. Thus far she hadn't exactly gained the infallible perception Shinya seemed to just snap their fingers and attain at some point, but she tried.

"And right now you're probably thinking I can go eat Okomo shit. Okay, okay."

She turned from him, taking a few steps and beginning to pace up and down the covered walkway they occupied alone. Without thinking she folded her scarred arm behind her back when she faced him, and moved it back in front of her when she turned so that he would not have a chance to really see. Her pinky and ring finger were shortened to the first knuckle, a fact she tried to hide.

"I meant what I said before. I'm still not quite sure about you, but I think I was wrong about your friend Duvalyon. He's… well, the point is I meant what I said. I'm not wise or patient, but I do care about this place. I'll protect it however I can, but my way doesn't always work. I don't know how many more times I can get hurt by just charging in before I won't get up again. I need to try something different, Laszlo. I need you to help me, and you can. You're a Hypnotist, you know things about it. I want to know too."

"Whoa, what? Absolutely not! I am not teaching you, or anyone hypnotism. It's bad enough that I know-..."

Elhaym waved her hand sharply, cutting him off mid-sentence with her own barrage of words. "No, no no! I don't want to learn how, I want to learn why. I want to know what it is and how it affects people. What are the limitations, the signs, the feelings you can make. Laszlo, I didn't feel a thing when you pushed me. How is that even possible?"

She let out a sigh, and her body seemed to sink into itself as if some crushing weight was pressing her into the ground. Her head tilted back, giving her lone eye a view of the fine details of the stonework that covered the small path. it was lined with skyglass that danced with light.

"If you can help me, I can help you. You said so yourself, you have no other way to protect yourself. If you give me knowledge, then I can give you knowledge too. Aren't there people in the world you want to protect? Laszlo, understand what I'm asking you. I've crashed through my whole life with only my fists to solve my problems, and I'm tired of it. I need more. I'm tired of being fucking ignorant."

This woman was almost a different creature altogether than the one he had encountered before. Perhaps it was the lack of her colors, the stark blue of the Shinya, that made her so much more vulnerable to the world. Her armor was gone and the woman was naked to the world, and despite her powerful legs and her well muscled arms she looked weak. If it meant showing him something she hated about herself, so be it. The knowledge was what she needed, not only for her own sake but for her city's as well… and it didn't stop with simple lessons on Hypnotism. The Ethaefal were a mystery as well, and that was a mystery she wanted to solve. She needed more weapons, and so she thought, perhaps he did as well.

"Will you?

Her one eye pleaded with him, but she straightened her back and stood taller. Her maimed hand curled into the remnants of a fist unconsciously, a habit she had picked up while trying to keep the scar tissue from constricting her joints. Let me try this… just once, something different, she thought. I have nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

Since returning from the Unforgiving to a changed Lhavit, Elhaym's life had been in upheaval. Clinging from one ideal to the next as if she were hanging on for dear life had instilled a sense of desperation in her born from the desire to keep herself from ever slowing down. That would mean time alone, to think, to contemplate things that had happened that she had never given herself time to mull over… it had been so long now, too long. Facing all those things were too much to handle right now. She buried herself in her quest, and Laszlo had just become a part of it.


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Get a Grip

Postby Laszlo on March 18th, 2012, 11:46 pm

At first, Laszlo could only stare at her, confusion clouding the gold of his eyes. His mouth hung open, in want of saying something, but he was speechless. Not only was he dumbfounded by her unusual request, but although he recognized the scarred woman from before, this was not the same Elhaym he remembered. Before him stood a completely different person, pleading with him, almost small and meek. Her single visible eye was helpless and vulnerable, soft like the surface of a pond. Last time they had met, she frightened him and put him on the defensive. Now she was so helpless that Laszlo was reminded of how pathetic he was when he groveled to a Symenestra for help.

The Ethaefal looked in one direction, then the other, then back over his shoulder at the Okomo shepherd, as if the words he was looking for could be found there. This was why she has asked him to meet her at the Sharai? Of course, he was relieved that she didn't actually want to learn hypnotism, but this wasn't much better. Was she really so afraid of hypnotism that she would shed her armor and dignity to beg knowledge from him?

Finally, Laszlo looked down, letting go of a reluctant sigh as his features strained to show the conflict in his head. He turned his eyes up again with a grimace. "No. I won't." A hand combed through his sweeping blond hair, which poured back over his face in a glittering cascade. There was a pause as he slowly inhaled, time he used to formulate a more complete response. "Are you really asking me to explain Hypnotism to you? I understand that it's frightening not to have control over your own mind, and I'm sorry if it startles you to remember what I did, but you're asking too much from me. Telling you how it works, giving you that kind of knowledge could only end up badly for both of us."

This was like asking a serpent to give up its venom. To understand Hypnotism was to defeat it. Not only would Laszlo be disarmed, but every Hypnotist she came across ran the risk of being exposed if she recognized what they were doing.

As his frustration mounted, Laszlo gave Elhaym another onceover. "Is this serious, what you're doing?" He swept a hand at her. "Are you trying to play me? Do you think I'm an idiot? You take off your armor and act like a helpless little girl, and you think I'll forget how you hounded me the other day? I'm still a little sore, you know. You basically assaulted me just because I have a Symenestra for a friend, one who hasn't even done anything. What makes you think I'm remotely interested in helping you? You have nothing I need." Barking an angry laugh, Laszlo pushed himself away from the pillar and slipped his hands into his pockets. The pavilion's shadow poured over him as he began pacing in front of her.

He wasn't buying this act for a moment. Laszlo was a liar; he understood deception. There was a chance that Elhaym was genuine, that she really was afraid of magic as Hanei had said, but she was also a city protector. An emotionally unstable one at that. She might have been clever enough to figure out that she couldn't force any secrets out of Laszlo, and wanted to appeal to his sensitive side to pull information out of him. Knowing how to pick out Hypnotism could damn every wizard hiding within the city. It wasn't Laszlo's problem if they didn't register themselves, but it seemed their right to defy regulations if they chose to.

"Humans are so susceptible to ignorance and fear. Maybe you, more than anyone else I've met here. You can't seem to decide whether you loathe me or need my approval. I'm not going to give you reasons to be paranoid about every new person you meet, and I'm not going to give the Shinya any information that could start a witch hunt. I'll obey the laws, and I'll keep my head down, but I want absolutely nothing to do with you. Understand? I don't want any trouble here. I have enough problems. So why don't you just leave me alone?"
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Get a Grip

Postby Elhaym on March 19th, 2012, 4:32 am

Image

She took it. His scathing retort wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, but she took it. In truth she had expected him to nod calmly and begin explaining the nature of what he had done in depth, but as he spoke she realized how attached he must have become to his closely guarded secret. Then his reply becoming more heated.

You take off your armor and act like a helpless little girl, and you think I'll forget how you hounded me the other day?

Her face twisted into a harsh frown, and her lone eye bored into him like a drill. I did you a favor, you twit, but you don't seem to understand. I don't need to ask, I can simply take. I gave you the benefit of a doubt because I've already troubled you, but again you show your recklessness.

Her fists, both whole and ravaged curled into tight fists. Her arms vibrated as the muscles they bore grew taut, and it was all she could do not to lay into him once more… and not with a simple body blow. No one understood her it seemed, even some of her Shinya brethren thought that of her as troubled. Still, they accepted her because of what she had done for them and the sacrifices she had made. This one, this son of a bitch, he knew nothing about her and presumed to tell her why she asked for what she did?

"Yes Laszlo, I am ignorant and scared. Look at my fucking face. Do you think I fell in a campfire? A girl did this to me, barely old enough to have bled for the first time. Her name was Orianna Dechastis, and she liked to knit and read poetry. She was known as kind, and took in the other students who studied with her as if she were their sister. No young woman was more well liked than Orianna. But she was a reimancer, and when that storm hit her magic tore her mind to pieces, and it nearly tore me to pieces too."

She turned her head and spat, putting some distance between them with brisk and harsh steps. The memory of that pain was still fresh. "Do you think you're any better than Orianna? You're not. She was kind, but her magic turned her into a murderer… frothing at the mouth and hungering for death. You think this is about a witch hunt? Oh, I wish it was. If I had the power, I would round up every mortal being that could harness their djed in any way, and put them to the sword. I would burn every book on the subject and kill anyone who defied my will on the matter. And when that was done, when every facet of this curse had been destroyed, I would climb the highest peak in the land, and skewer myself for the world to see so they could witness the death of magic in this world."

Her voice seethed with contempt, and whatever defenseless girl she had shown him before melted back into the hard and gruff front she had shown him before. If she was armored before, now she was clad in the thickest Isurian steel ever known.

"Think that insane, if you want. I know it sounds insane, and I also know it will never happen. If only it could… they would hate me, oh gods, they would. For years people would curse my name. But I believe in a hundred years, every sentient being in this world would look back and remember me fondly for delivering them from the evil that crawls under both of our skins..."

She sighed, letting her tight fists uncurl as she turned them to stare into her palms. One was butchered with burn scars; pale in some spots and darker in others, and the stubs of her two fingers lost past their first knuckle ever the reminder of reimancy's power.

"But I can't just kill everyone. I can't save everyone that way, so what am I to do? Give up? Pretend that it's not a big deal, that we should all be allowed to meddle with power we have no right to, and others who haven't been inflicted by the psychotic desire for power we both share should just accept it? Don't scoff at me, Laszlo. You prove you're own hunger for power in your denial; you want your secrets, your power, all to yourself."

She trudged back to face him, craning her neck to meet his eyes. How could someone who looked so divine be so blind? He actually felt the need to protect other mages, those who would sell him out in a moment's notice if it meant their own safety.

"I refuse to do nothing. So I do what I can do, and that is learn. If there is a threat to this city in the making, I have no choice but to understand it. Whether it's magic, or a Symenestra. And you will help me. You say I have nothing you need, but you are wrong."

Her arms were already moving to her side, and something inside of her silently stirred. The palms she had taken in earlier seemed to vanish from her consciousness, replaced by something ethereal and cloaked in shadow. Her astral self pulled itself free from her flesh, starting at the tips of her fingers and wiggling it's way free all the way to her elbows. The exuberance of it's release filled her with a tingling feeling, like stretching after being stuffed into a tiny box for years. So Laszlo could touch her mind with no trace; so she too could touch his body with no warning. Her forearms dangled limp at her sides, but that was hardly noticeable to one who was not accustomed to watching for a projectionist's strike.

"Hypnotism is your shield. Well then, defend yourself Laszlo. Can you truly protect yourself with only one flawed weapon?"

With that, her invisible appendages stretched and snaked forward to his lower legs. She could not see them, but she was just as aware of them and their position as she would have been her real arms. The nook in the back of each knee was where she would take a hold, yet that was not all she had planned. She spared a glance towards the shepherd, but he had disappeared into his fields and was engrossed with his flock. The were otherwise alone, all the better. The Shinya would not approve of her overt methods of persuasion.

Elhaym's lower body came to life in a blur that showed nothing less than precision control. Her right knee curled and rose up to her chest before rushing forward to plant her foot directly into his gut. Her worn and soft sandals would save him from a crushing blow from her heel, but the force was well the same. Yet in that instant she would also grab for his knees with her astral arms, and pull them towards her. She wanted him flat on his back, and so it would be so.

The entire display was only a second in the making, a slice of time that came and went in an instant. The offending foot came back to the dusty ground as she took in the view of Laszlo's beaten and falling body. The harshness of it caused his garments to flap, revealing a long scar on his side. It seemed Hypnotism was not so infallible a shield, as she had attempted to prove once again. She walked towards him softly, crouching next to him as her arms dangled and brushed against the ground.

"You were right when you said I don't know if I loathe you or need you. Perhaps it is both, but I think you should ask yourself the same question of me, Laszlo. I see you've had a near brush with death once already. Don't you have anything in this world you want to protect? I can show you, teach you, what I know. I do not ask for something for nothing… you cannot protect everyone from everything, but I can give you a good start."

Unseen to his eyes, her arms snaked forward once again. This time they were not meant to threaten, only to make him aware of them if he had not had time to notice before. The idea of taking a hold of his throat intruded, but that was too much. Hurting Laszlo was really not high on her priority list, but she would continue too if he persisted in forcing her hand. Eventually, he would realize that Elhaym Vormav was like most women; she did not take no for an answer easily. Gingerly she tried to cup her hands on his cheeks, as a woman would if she were to give a man a kiss. She did not do that, of course. They only light touched his skin, making the presence of an astral body known… and his imagination may well do the rest for her.

If having her mind assault unseen and unknown frightened her, perhaps the same threat to his body may have an impact. She wanted him to feel the same unease she did in the presence of something she did not understand, and spark some hunger for what it was. Anything she would do to make him more pliable to her will, even if it meant giving her own secrets.


OOC NoteI cleared the assumption that Laszlo would indeed have been knocked down by her attack with Laszlo's player before posting.


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Get a Grip

Postby Laszlo on March 19th, 2012, 5:53 am

The air grew thick and stagnant as something new changed about Elhaym. Laszlo took an apprehensive step backward. Something was happening, he could see a light coming alive in her eyes, but the woman was still. She made no move toward him, and yet he could sense danger prickling the hair on his arms and the back of his neck.

Her warning came too late for him to react, but he quickly realized that had been her intention. Even when he tried to step back, something caught him at his knees. Laszlo was still digesting Elhaym's twisted philosophy when she reared back and shot her foot back into his chest. The impact compressed his ribcage and forced him to gasp. The unidentifiable pressure behind his knees pulled his legs from under him. What surprised Laszlo the most was the hard, rigid earth that slammed into his back. He coughed breathlessly; a globule of cold spittle was caught on his lower lip.

For a long moment he simply lied there, trying to suck in air as the pain from Elhaym's attack set in. It was like a fire that lit in the center of is chest, burning under his skin, slowly spreading through his body and limbs until every corner of him just hurt. Laszlo's skull pounded behind his eyes, his vision temporarily blackening from (presumably?) a rush of blood. It was then that something smooth and stiff touched upon his cheeks, cradling his face like a pair of hands, but it did not feel like flesh. It was not cold, nor hot, but it felt alive as the wind on his skin.

The Ethaefal took a breath then, exhaling ever so gently as those invisible hands drew away. Magic, he knew. Not any magic he could identify, but the air was tight with djed, and moreover, Elhaym sounded like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Another coarse breath flowed into him, and pain released its paralytic hold on his body. With one hand he wiped the saliva off his lip; the other felt at the edge of his shirt and tugged it back down to cover his scars again. They were none of her business.

It had been a mistake to reproach her, to give her his candid opinion. Even Laszlo should have known that. Why was it so hard to learn that people simply didn't like being told off? Still, even when he had forced himself to be polite the other day, it felt like swallowing bile. There was no winning with her. He would have to play it her way, wouldn't he?

"Gnh…" Laszlo painstakingly rolled to his side, grasping at his aching chest with one arm as he propped himself on the opposite elbow. He pulled his knees in, mostly for balance, but partially because a large part of him would have loved to curl into a fetal position and pout. Hypnotism could have prevented that, he thought bitterly. "Gods… there's nothing subtle about you, is there…" He coughed, pushing himself upright. Mouth wide open, he breathed experimentally for another moment or two, just to be sure his lungs still worked. Then he looked up at Elhaym. "What in Syna's name was that? If you're offering to teach me, I don't think I want to know."

She wanted to kill every magic user. Laszlo could almost understand a desire to purge djed manipulation from the world, but to do it through violence and massacre? That did sound insane. How could any reasonable person think that way? Could she hear herself? "I'll count myself lucky that no one single mortal has the right or ability to pass judgment on the world." Not quite ready to stand himself up again, Laszlo slid across the ground toward a nearby post and set himself against it. Resting an elbow on his knee, he held his forehead up in one palm and closed his eyes to ease away the fading ache in his head.

"I do have people to protect, Elhaym. My friend, and my lover. By Fall, I'll… I'll have a son or daughter to look after, too. Gods, I'm glad he can't see me now." Laszlo massaged his temple with two fingers, just above the base of his horn. "Fine, since you're so insistent. If you think you can show me a way to protect against people like you, I'll tell you want you want to know."

Laszlo lowered his hand, raising is amber eyes to meet Elhaym's lone one. Her story had indeed touched him. Seeing a young girl turned into a crazed killer by the Wild Djed of the Storm must have left deeper scars than the ones on her face and arm. "But only if you give me your word that this information is only for you, Elhaym, and not the Shinya. You're not going to start hunting down hypnotists after this, right? And you're not going to start hurling accusations at someone who could be innocent, without proof? I won't be a catalyst for unprovoked, righteous bloodshed."

He rubbed at his chest in lament. "I might ask your consent, for this. I will let you know before I touch your mind, but it will be easier to perform demonstrations if you know what to expect."
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Get a Grip

Postby Elhaym on March 19th, 2012, 7:09 am

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It was hard not to feel sorry for Laszlo as she peeled her astral limbs away from his face. He was an unfortunate casualty of her desires, swept into a current that even she could barely control. What must be done would be done however, and she settled back onto her haunches as he collected himself. No lasting damage had been done; the blow would have been painful no doubt, but there were numerous other places she could have struck had she intended to truly hurt or cripple the Ethaefal. Fortunately for him, she was not quite so vicious as she seemed to come off… in her own mind's eye, anyhow.

She folded her legs underneath her and straightened her back, trying to smooth away the angry vibrations that rattled her insides. She truly was too easy to tempt into action, a facet of herself that thus far she had had no success in disarming. Her lone eye closed as she began to breath in and out rhythmically, expelling the surge of emotions she had gone through as best she could. Whether or not he agreed, she needed to center herself. At last, he spoke.

"Subtlety is not my strong suit, no."

She said it almost with a hint of dismay, but managed to keep the majority of that out of her voice. Slowly the world returned to focus as her eye opened to take in the form of him curling his knees to his chest against the pillar he rested upon. "No, like you, I will not teach. It is called Projection; harnessing your astral body and commanding it into the physical world. What you felt upon your face was a piece of my soul."

She would not teach it even if she had the skill to initiate someone, unless the Shinya required her to do so. It grated her that her own Order had not even batted an eye at it's own requirements for magical usage since the events earlier this Spring, but that was a battle for another day. She returned her attention to Laszlo as his stray comment about her own harsh mindset settled in, and she nodded in agreement. She believed in what she had said, but that didn't make the heinous act of actually going through with it any easier to imagine.

The air seemed to grow thicker as they spoke, and Elhaym detected the peculiar smell that always seemed to signify a sudden onset of rain. Her eye found it's way up and through the pillars of stone and skyglass to the sky beyond, and her nose had not lied. Massive clouds of thick black and grey were gathering. The cover over their heads would be much appreciated soon. Her attention returned to Laszlo as he disclosed his future as a father, and then, there it was. Agreement. Elhaym smiled.

"You have my word then. You're in no danger of being responsible for poor hypnotists being murdered in their beds as they sleep peacefully by brigands wearing blue robes. Remember, we tolerate mages in this city. We even train them. I wish it wasn't so, but it is what it is. I ask this of you for myself, and no one else."

As she spoke her astral arms went astray, winding their way around her body and contorting slightly from the shape of elongated arms to take a hold of the bundle she had propped against the railing earlier. Her fingers wrapped around it, one of even her astral hands suspiciously missing two fingers. It seemed what was lost to the body was lost to the soul as well. A pity, that, she thought as the bundle floated towards her and plopped into her lap. Once it was in place, she set to reattaching her arms. It was a slow process, and she took extra care to align the ghost and it's shell perfectly before conjoining them.

Her face beamed in pleasure after having finally gotten her way. Why couldn't he have just said yes in the first place? So much emotional upheaval and pain could be avoided with simple compliance. Yet that was not the way of the world, and more often than not she had to fight for her desires, big and small. She supposed then that that may be why victory always tasted so sweet. She could not be greedy in her triumph however; she had promised Laszlo an even trade. Forceful and unwarranted harassment aside, she did have a certain measure of honor that she would abide by.

"I thought you would, if I'm to understand what it is you do. You can, but you must explain what you're doing. Before you do, though..."

She reached with her newly brought to life hand, relishing the feeling of the braided cord that tied the bundle together. A quick tug and the knot fell apart, and she placed the bulky cloth between them before unraveling it further. Once she unfolded it fully, the contents were obvious. Two sheathed swords lay side by side on a square of the thick blue fabric. One looked slightly more beat up, with darkened patches on the leather of the hilt that Elhaym knew to be blood. The other was brilliant in it's construction, from the tip of the sheath to the metal cap of the hilt. Silver dragonflies were embossed all up the surface of the sleek black sheath, and the hilt was wrapped in firm yet also supple leather.

"I told you I would give you the means to protect yourself, and I did not lie."

She reached forward, taking a hold of the more worn blade and setting it in her lap. "This is mine; the other is yours. For now, anyhow. It belonged to one of my ancestors, so it is quite old. Still, every sword deserves a story… and thus far that blade has none. Mine has… well, in any case, consider this proof of our agreement. Take it."

That very moment a solid sheet of rain fell upon Lhavit, crashing onto the covered walkway and sloshing over the sides. The sound drowned out everything, and somehow it created a sense of peace within her. She knew little of the Ethaefal, but she did know that this one was a creature of Syna. His earlier comments even confirmed that a bit, she assumed. Whether or not a storm blotting out his patron Goddess would be conceived as an ill sign was unknown to her, but there it was. A torrential downpour.


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Get a Grip

Postby Laszlo on March 20th, 2012, 5:01 am

Real rain. Not slow motion, upside down, or on fire. Just cold, wet, and predicable. It was nice, another benefit to having left the insanity of Alvadas. Laszlo shrugged in surprise as the rain fell upon his shoulders, quickly soaking into his clothing and weighing down his hair. Though Summer was just a few weeks off, the chill it brought to the air was biting, and he shivered.

Before reaching for the sword, Laszlo turned his head and sent a cautious glance skyward. Syna's brilliant radiance was still there, lurking behind the clouds, visible through thin veins of light that parted the gray. For now she wore a veil, surrendering the sky to Zulrav, but she wasn't gone.

Laszlo exhaled into the wet air, turning to Elhaym again sitting in front of him. Thin streams of coursing water clawed over the black, sleek scabbard, caressing around the ornamental dragonflies. It almost looked innocuous there on the ground, laid out on soft, blue linen, but it was a weapon. Not wanting to incur the wrath of Elhaym's impatience, Laszlo leaned forward and pulled the remaining sword into his own lap. Grasping the hilt, he withdrew it from its sheath enough to get a glimpse of its silvery blade. Beautifully crafted though it was, it was designed to cause death. Magic was often described as a double-edged blade, but somehow this instrument seemed so much more deadly.

"A sword," he breathed thoughtfully, clapping the scabbard to the hilt again. "I've thought about learning to use one, if only for self-defense, but I'm not sure I have it in me to attack someone else." The mirror cracks into a perfect spiderweb. She gasps. Laszlo looks down to the dagger in his hand, its hilt pressed into her ribs. He can't see the blade. "At least, with Hypnotism, no one gets hurt but the user. Don't get me wrong, I'm not turning you down. I don't lack the gall to hold a blade. I'm just… apprehensive about the idea."

There was also the duality of Laszlo's existence. During the day and night, he was physically an entirely different person. If he learned balance and poise in one form, he may have to relearn it for the other. Would his Symenestra form be more agile, or would his Ethaefal form be more durable? Perhaps they would both have their advantages, and their weaknesses.

Elhaym had lent him a blade that belonged to her ancestor, to show her end of this arrangement. It felt unfair, even if Laszlo was holding onto a priceless artifact. Revealing the secrets of Hypnotism in exchange for holding a blade didn't sound like an even exchange. The Acolyte was teaching a man to fish. Laszlo was teaching a woman how to drain the lake. "Hypnotism isn't necessarily a weapon. It's more like a utility. It's an art of suggestion and persuasion, not force. That's why it loses its power when the target becomes aware of it. It requires a gentle hand."

With his free hand, Laszlo rubbed at his chest again through his wet, heavy shirt. Taking advantage of his day form, he applied his celestial talent to the newly born bruises still forming upon his reddened skin. The pain diminished, a little, but an acute soreness remained. It would have to do. "The manipulation of djed plays a smaller part than you might think. It operates more on charisma, body language, and observation. Hypnotism has to feel natural; the target has to think their mind is their own. If you try to instill the feeling of happiness to someone who's presently drowning, it probably won't work." He paused awkwardly. "Well not you-you. I'm not teaching you how to use it. But the general you, as in… oh never mind."

Laszlo lifted one hand, wet from the rain, and extended it toward Elhaym. He spotted a note of hesitance on her face, but he persistently waited. "Just take my hand. I'm not going to do anything to it." Once she complied, Laszlo gently closed his fingers around her smaller hand. She was a strongly built woman, but her fingers were still slender and feminine. As much as she knocked him around, it was easy for Laszlo to forget that she was just a woman. "Hypnotism doesn't use any grand gestures or incantations. It's subtle and deceptive. There are four or five primary ways of manipulating your target, but there's always room for creativity. A beginner hypnotist is easy to spot because he can only use about three different methods with any success: eye contact, voice and touch."

At the last word, Laszlo's fingers adjusted slightly. Elhaym was aware of his magic, so he would have to be more assertive to make her feel it. No single, subtle method would work, so he used all three. The djed prickled the skin of his hand, itched at his eyes, and tasted spicy and tingled on his tongue. Because it was easy, and Laszlo was prone to self-indulgence, he used his own handsome appearance to inspire a warm, fluttering feeling of attraction in Elhaym toward the Ethaefal. His gold eyes were intensely locked on hers, almost luminous despite the low light of this rainy afternoon. Rosy lips were gently parted, the rain dripping from the contours of his face.

He let go of her hand, resting it again on the sword's scabbard. "A beginner generally sticks to suggestions. He seems trustworthy, despite other traits that may suggest otherwise. He might be charming, or funny. Or he may go the other route and make himself more intimidating. A swordsman might add flair to the drawing of a sword by literally inspiring his opponent to fear him. Hypnotists generally avoid being overt, though. It's against our… creed."

Laszlo continued, but lowered his eyes, afraid that Elhaym might become angry at what he was about to say. "I'm not a beginner. Actually I'm quite good at what I do. It takes practice, but a good Hypnotist knows what to look for in another person before he tries to push them. I can make you feel whatever I want you to feel, and if you didn't know that I was doing it, you wouldn't think to accuse me. People don't understand themselves, and that's where a Hypnotist takes advantage. Many people are angry all the time, and don't really know why. They may blame others, or try to cure it, but they don't question that the emotion is there. Some people are lost, or depressed, or always hoping. Recognizing that and working with it ensures a Hypnotist's success. A target's best defense is a sound mind.

"You, for example, strike me as someone who is emotionally unstable. That makes you easy to manipulate. I don't have to understand you to control you, because you already understand yourself more than I could. All I had to do, the other day, was implant a strong suggestion that you should remove your foot from my shoulder. Your own mind invented the reasons why. Maybe you felt shame, or you just felt awkward. Hell, maybe you were even sorry. I didn't give you an emotion, because that would have been pushing too hard. I just needed to use a light touch. Less is more."


He paused, taking the moment to lick rain off his lips and rewet is mouth. The blond curls of his hair were thoroughly soaked and dark now, clinging to the sides of his face and neck, and plastered around the elegant curves of his horns. Water dripped from the tips of them continuously, creating a steady patter upon his shoulders. "Suggestions are easy. I can also put thoughts into your head, clearly worded in your own voice." Golden eyes flashed upward with a sudden flourish.

He can't do that, Elhaym would think at that moment, with a thought louder than any others in her head. She would have heard it in her own voice, with her own natural inflection: a hybrid mishmash of Syliran and Lhavitian accents.

"Yes I can," Laszlo remarked cattily, though he quickly winced. Pushing that thought into her head, so soon after pouring so much effort into making her feel, had sent a sharp spasm of pain into his temple. He grunted softly and rubbed at the base of his horn. "Those are trickier, because if I made you think, 'I wonder if there are flying wolf hounds', you'd know that thought wasn't your own." A desire bloomed in the back of Laszlo's mind, wanting to subject Elhaym to more Hypnotism. She was willing, and she had given her consent. Why not test himself, to see if he could manipulate a conscious target? Ever since revealing himself to Seven and Victor, he had wanted more of a challenge.

Laszlo shivered, but not from the cold. He bit his tongue before speaking. "I need a break before I show you more. This is far too tempting. I've overgiven before. It's extremely painful, and last time there was a lot of blood. I know it's raining but I'd like to avoid that for now. I like this shirt."
Last edited by Laszlo on March 21st, 2012, 4:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Get a Grip

Postby Elhaym on March 21st, 2012, 5:23 am

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Water crossed her face like a fluid spiderweb, absorbing into the cloth that hid her missing eye from the world until it reached it's limit and began dribbling the excess down onto her face. The sight of Laszlo taking the blade and looking at it thoughtfully was a good one. If only more people would put their trust in steel and in themselves rather than djed and trickery, the world would be a better place. No safer, in truth, but at least more honest.

"I can't say I agree with you that your talents hurt no one but yourself… but I am glad the blade is heavy in your hand. Apprehension is exactly what you should feel. When you draw it, it should be without hesitation… but the day you are no longer bothered by the fact that you did is the day you should put it aside forever. If one could overgive with their body, that would be the point that they had."

She let the silence linger a bit as he seemed to consider something before she interrupted with a final thought. "It is an elegant weapon, and will suit you well. It is also known to the Shinya, so they may ask you how you acquired it. Tell them it was a gift from me to you, nothing more. I will deal with their questions."

When he lapsed into his lecture, she relaxed her body but kept her posture straight. It was difficult to watch him as he spoke, with the nonchalance of his face and gestures… her lone eye closed, and his words spun around in her mind before being absorbed. She didn't notice Laszlo's odd ability to lesson his own pain somehow as she could not see, but she did listen.

"I understand." She said when he began to stutter, her smoky voice relating her own unease at hearing the intricacies of his craft. She heard the rustling of wet clothing scraping against flesh and a slight difference in the sound of the rain. The world appeared again slowly, and his hand was outstretched for her to presumably take. Of course she had accepted that she would have to do this, but giving some free reign to make their thoughts your own was unnerving.

With the slight taste of bile in her throat, she took his hand.

Yet as he spoke, she felt something slide over and through her like a wave. Had she really never truly looked at him? His eyes were like honey, his skin smooth and soft… the divinity of his face was marred by his simple clothing. Elhaym's heart began to race as she felt desire's crushing weight press upon it. He was beautiful, elegant, and his voice was rich and powerful... how long had it been? He could take her right now, if he wanted to. He was beautiful, and...

His hand slipped away. Slowly, the urges she had felt seemed to slip away as his eyes turned back into something menacing and capable of harm, lips that could spew venom into her mind and a touch more threatening than that of her blade's edge. His words were telling; if riling her up that way wasn't overt, what was? They lingered there, the embers of desire slowly extinguishing. Had he even intended that, or was that her own mind filling in the blanks, as he had said…

He was powerful, and he admitted his skill freely.

Yet he claimed to not only influence her indirectly, but create actual thoughts? Impossible. Her thoughts could be twisted, perhaps, but there was simply no way for something her own mind didn't create to be there… He simply could not do that.

"Yes, I can."

Elhaym shook her head and blinked, immediately pressing her palm against her forehead in disbelief. At the very least that last push seemed to have affected him, and that gave her some small measure of comfort. Her own weakness in Projection was totally unknown to him, and rightly so. If he could see the weariness that was only now beginning to creep through her from the strain of her simple astral tasks, her limitations would be far too apparent. In a contest of djed, their powers were on a different level.

"Don't strain yourself, Laszlo. I don't know what overgiving is to you, but I know what it is to me. Rest."

Elhaym's body slid into an upright position as if she were a snake, the motion entirely fluid. Her sword was swept into her left hand, carried firmly despite her three fingered grip. She turned from him, seeking the shelter from the rain in the covered walkway… and shelter from him. She had asked for it, but his display had only brought more questions and more doubt into her mind. That was the real reason for her warning; his safety was her concern as a citizen, but overgiving did strange things to a mind and his was the last she wanted to be unstable in this moment.

If her reckless personality made it so easy to manipulate her, then perhaps there was something to be said for the Shinya's focus on meditation and calm neutrality. That sudden realization shed new light on her training here in a city full of magic, and perhaps her instructor's insistence that she control her emotions. There were so many things in the world she didn't understand, but she had told herself she would try… if only for the good of the people who had shown her so much kindness.

Shhhhhnkkk!

Ah, but a blade… that she understood. A fine cutting edge, and you draw it like so. If you're opponent moves this way, you hold it like this, and if they move to strike from here, you swing like that. True, she was no swordsman, but martial talent was in her blood. She held the newly drawn blade with her right hand, and stared at the reflection of her scarred face upon it's well polished surface. The thought of just cutting him down right then and there wafted through her mind softly, and that she knew was her thought and her thought alone. His art was a dangerous one. So how was it that…

"You say you've used this to help people. How?"

She turned back to him, and swung her sword through the air to her side. It lingered there, though presumably not as a threat. This very blade had saved her life in a way, and holding it made her feel a little bit stronger. Perhaps it would also serve to keep him on his guard as well, and not to assume too much of their agreement. She had not lied when she had whispered that mocking, bitter-sweet nothing into his ear. There are things he would do well not to unearth in her mind.


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Get a Grip

Postby Laszlo on March 21st, 2012, 6:45 am

Putting his palm to the flat, rough stone of the courtyard, Laszlo arduously pushed himself to his feet. The sword clasped in his other hand rattled gravely in its sheath, its shifting weight reminding the Ethaefal that it wasn't going anywhere. It was still a lethal weapon, sharpened and waiting to taste flesh. Odd, that a work of art so well-crafted was inspired by a tradition of bloodshed more ancient than humans—probably more ancient than the gods themselves. Immortalized in metal and carven designs, Elhaym's unfamiliar lineage lived through this sword, presumably crafted or given to her ancestor, and passed through her family. Almost like a soul, actually. Or an Ethaefal, in a more romantic sense.

Slowly, Laszlo followed Elhaym under the pavilioned walkway. He was in no hurry to get out of the rain; though he was soaked through, the weather hardly bothered him. Syna's son was grateful to be outdoors during the daytime, whether the sky was blue or dark gray. Sunlight still poured everywhere, mottled though it was. Rain was purifying water, smelling thick and almost metallic, washing away the day's dust from his skin. It was easy to forget, even for Laszlo sometimes, that he was an inhuman creature not meant for this world. Some parts of him belonged to the ebb and flow of nature and the world eternal, more than the flesh, blood, and procured clothing that walked in the city streets.

Under the roof, the rain no longer pummeled him or sang in his ears. It was still cold, even colder now that Kalean breezes swept through the pavilion and brushed by the both of them. The long space they occupied was empty but for them, enclosed by glass walls of falling water that plodded the earth in thick streams. Pregnant, low-lying clouds, heavy with moisture, rolled in until they licked the edges of the Sharai, covering the view of the mountains beyond in a cottony shroud. Laszlo remembered then that Lhavit was not apart from the Misty Peaks, but an glittering captive within.

He stopped in place when Elhaym drew her sword and swung it.

Neither the Okomo nor their shepherd seemed to mind the rain, but when a roll of thunder mumbled in the sky, they seemed to stir and move closer together. The shepherd began leading them to a large, sheltered pen some distance across the mostly flat, landscaped field—somehow even more verdant and lush-looking in the darkened, gray sunlight.

Laszlo turned his attention to the back of Elhaym's head, watching the soft ribbons of light play on her sodden, black hair. By now, he'd had time to contemplate an answer to her question. He had never, not really helped anyone with his Hypnotism, at least not in any way they had consented. Laszlo had assisted Symenestra doctors by calming the surrogates they treated. Much like he had done with Elhaym, it was easy to reassure them with his immaculate, beautiful face and his golden, glittering eyes. With Seven… "In Alvadas, I had a friend. A Dra," the Symenos term word rolled off his tongue with a foreign flourish; the 'r' fluttered, "from Lhavit, actually. Seven Xu. In a hypnotic trance, I helped him recover memories he had long forgotten about his father. A trance is a bit like a state between sleeping and awake. A person is much more… pliable. It can open doors that might otherwise be locked shut when someone is conscious." All you have to do is close the door. Do you hear me? Close the door, Seven. "Don't worry, it's not something even a master could force. The subject has to be willing." Or coerced.

The sword rattled again as Laszlo lifted it in front of his face, examining the hilt. With his other hand, he drew the scabbard down again, exposing the base of the blade. It shone far too brightly in this dim light, almost as if it were calling him.

Warm, amber eyes flitted back to Elhaym. Laszlo could still remember the look on her face when for a single moment, he had owned her. The mask of contempt she wore when she broke out of it was frightening, but did she still remember how she felt? Was she still thinking about it? About him? Not that it mattered. Laszlo couldn't begin considering walking the paths he begun in Alvadas and only recently strayed from. With the slightest effort, he could control her again, make her easier to handle. So much in his life had gone awry lately, out of his control. This uneasy alliance between them could be made to develop so much more smoothly.

He chuckled, suddenly, forcing his eyes downward. "And, ha ha, there was the time when Abalia brought a new beau into my tavern just to make me jealous. Some tripe about another woman—she misunderstood. When I didn't give her the reaction she wanted, she just got furious. Started smashing up my bar, throwing mugs and wine bottles. I had to use a dose of Hypnotism just to calm her down." Laszlo exhaled through his nose, but his smile again faded quickly. "Actually, to this day I don't think she knows I did that."

Becoming brave, Laszlo took a few more steps forward, coming along beside Elhaym and gazing down at her. Whatever mirth had been in his expression a moment ago was gone. He was serious again. Even his rich baritone was more even as he spoke. "I'm sorry, did I hear you right? You're giving me your ancestor's sword?" He glanced over his shoulder, as if someone could be watching them. A Shinya's sword? There must have been some law against that. "I couldn't possibly accept that. I don't even know how to use it. Even if you showed me, there's no guarantee I wouldn't just smash it in two against one of these posts in a mad accident."
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Get a Grip

Postby Elhaym on March 21st, 2012, 8:34 am

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His story of helping a Lhavitian was heard, but the fact that he had mentioned a Dra… in truth, Elhaym didn't really know what that meant. What she did know is that it referred to the Symenestra as that is when she had heard the term used. It seemed Laszlo threw his lot in with the spiders of Kalinor as a rule. What he described was exactly the sort of thing she feared in Hypnotism… somewhere she knew that her longing for him in that moment had little to do with his face, and more then enormous chasm in her heart that had formed with the disappearance of her lover. Her lover… mentor… and greatest friend. Elhaym bit down on her lower lip, and thanked Zintila and all the other god's above when he renewed his speech.

She forced a chuckle. Really, she forced it.

"It's probably best she doesn't find out."

A sigh escaped her lips, remembering how he had only moments ago told her how her emotional weakness made her such an easy target. She wanted to tell herself never again, that she would become as hard and cold as stone so that she could never be manipulated so easily. Yet the memory of the first night they were together on his balcony, naked and sweating as the wind swept across them from over the mountains… she had never felt more alive than in that moment, not even in the midst of a fight for her life. Laszlo's revelations about the power of Hypnotism were troubling, and she would indeed take note of them. Some things in life however she could not give up just for the sake of being immune to one tiny facet of coercion.

He had taken a step closer and seemed to loom over her, but his physical presence did not intimidate her. His eyes were far more dangerous than his height.

"You heard right. What's it to you? It's a blade; pretend it's brand new if it suits you."

Elhaym ground her teeth together as she tried to clear her head. Her hand tightened around the leather of her blade's hilt unconsciously, the sound of bending leather lost in the patter of the rain. Her skin was goosebumped and clammy, her hair falling over her eye like a wet mop. She considered calming herself the Shinya way, but she knew that would be fruitless. Only under the mildest circumstances could she center herself, and with her heart racing and the jumble of emotions he had torn from her heart in only a matter of moments it would do her no good. Still, he didn't truly deserve her snappy comments. All he had done was what she had asked him to.

"I'm sorry. You confused me for a minute there, and I… I want to say you're wrong about my… feelings. But you're right. I try to be strong, for everyone. I'm just a woman, easy to see through and easier to manipulate it seems."

She turned to him, and peered up and into his eyes. A bold act, as far as she was concerned.

"The blade is called Tragedy. It was a gift for my ancestor, Sooyun Furuma. She departed on a voyage to Syliras as a diplomat, and was claimed by a plague that swept through the city. The sword was never gifted to her, and so it was never truly hers. The people took to calling it Tragedy during the celebration of her life when they discovered she had fallen. So… it is an old blade, a fine blade, and in a sense it was my ancestors. But it has no story. Every blade needs a story."

Elhaym took a step back, and with a jerking movement shook the water that had dropped from her hair and clothes onto her blade off in a shower of droplets. The flourish was completed when she maneuvered her blade to her front, and slowly slide it back into it's sheath with a clicking sound signifying the blade's imprisoning. With her maimed hand, she held the sheathed blade up for Laszlo to see.

"This is my sword. I only recently named it, after what happened… I am no true swordsman, but I killed a man with it all the same. When I was burned…"

Elhaym's shoulders slumped forward as she placed her right hand across the ruins of her face, her fingers curling over cloth covering the hollow socket that had once been gifted with sight. Thinking about it brought back the pain there, just like she could sometimes feel her fingers still. It had been so sharp, glass exploding into a cloud of glitter and drowning out even the pain of her burns. "I was hurt," she said, moving her hand away from her eye and motioning towards her arm. "… and I couldn't see, but people were dying. My people, the Shinya. I was screaming, and I couldn't see, and it hurt so bad. I thought I was done, or that I would die. And then I saw it laying there. My sword, and it didn't care that I had been burned or that my eye had just been sliced to ribbons. It laid there, expecting me to pick it up and keep fighting. So I did. And we won."

"Every sword needs a story. There is a cat that I've heard of, larger than most. It has a mane, sort of like a horse, but bigger and golden. The same color as your hair if they tell it true. It's called a lion, and the people say to have a lion's heart is to be courageous. I had no courage that day until I picked my blade up off the floor, and so I named her the Lioness. It is only wood, leather, and steel, but whatever it is to anyone else, to me, it is my courage. That is my blade's story thus far. Perhaps one day you can write a story about that one, though the best story you could ever write about it would be… would be that you never drew it in anger, and that as you were laid to rest you reached out, and called it Peace. Whatever happens, it's story and it's name are in your hands now. "

It felt oddly refreshing to relate that tale to him. No one had been privy to the name she had given her sword, as it had always seemed oddly personal. Perhaps his meanderings into her feelings had weakened her barriers, or maybe it was simply because he was there and listening. As nice as it was, it wasn't what she had promised. Stories and wishful thinking would not help him defend himself. She lowered her blade, and held it to her hip as if were hoisted there by a belt.

"If you carry this blade, you carry it in your belt like so. Loop it in, so that it's situated like this."

The way she had the blade situated it was essentially perpendicular to her body, most unlike the way a Syliran Knight would have his blade slung low and canted at his hip in a sword belt. It also jutted out farther, a good foot in front of her.

"The blade is curved, and elegant when it is drawn. You have seen a man draw a longsword? It's a clumsy thing, grabbing and pulling it free like he's trying to wrestle with it. This blade... well, just watch."

She took several steps back to keep him out of immediate danger before nodding that she would begin. Her breath escaped slowly as she focused; this was one of the few things she had learned to do well with her blade, if only in controlled circumstances. Her left thumb, despite it's disfigurement, made a quick motion that pushed the handguard forward a bit and exposed a tiny sliver of steel. With slow and methodical precision, Elhaym reached with her right hand and took a hold of the hilt. She inhaled sharply, and the slow and methodical movement ended in a blur. A good foot of steel flew free from the scabbard before she actually twisted it, the blade's razor edge now facing to her left rather straight up. That minute change may not have been apparent to Laszlo, but as she pushed the sheath back and thrust her right leg forward with an accompanying yell her blade came free in an arc that slashed across the pathway. It was quick indeed, and the stroke looked as though it could have killed.

Elhaym's face contorted as she released a breath and took another in, straightening her body and pulling the blade to her side while holding the sheath in her other.

"That alone will surprise many who are not familiar with this sort of sword. A lot of men think drawing the sword is something to inspire fear, like the swordsman you mentioned before. They do not realize that with this blade, drawing the sword can mean an end to the fight… sometimes before it even begins."

She nodded to him before resheathing her blade in the same flourish as she had before, though in truth it was no real flourish. It was simply the way it was done; calm, with precision, and always with respect. Hence he might have been confused why she sheathed her sword, and then immediately drew it out again. This time she did so slower, and instead of making an attack the blade simply fell to her side as she propped the laquored sheath against the railing. That brief burst of movement had felt good… the air was beginning to chill her bones. She was drenched from head to toe, and her form fitting shirt clung to her chest in ways that may have been obscene. Elhaym didn't seem to notice that bit.

"When you hold it, you should hold it with a two handed grip, except when you draw. You want your right hand to stay loose; your left should be at the bottom with the pommel resting against your palm. That is the hand that controls the blade; your right hand merely guides it. Try it, you will see. It is intuitive once you do."

She held her blade aloft to show him the way, feeling somewhat in control again. Swords were still a stranger to her, and much past what she had already said would be outside her comfort zone. Still, it felt good to see a slightly bewildered face across from her instead of the other way around.


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Elhaym
Kick! Punch! It's all in the mind.
 
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Joined roleplay: August 16th, 2010, 4:25 am
Location: Lhavit
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